Divine Comedy: Inferno, Dante Alighieri [most read books in the world of all time .txt] 📗

departed from life, and the city of Bacchus had become enslaved, long while she wandered through the world. Up in fair Italy lies a lake, at foot of the alp that shuts in Germany above Tyrol, and it is called Benaco.[2] Through a thousand founts, I think, and more, between Garda and Val Camonica, the Apennine is bathed by the water which settles in that lake. Midway is a place where the Trentine Pastor and he of Brescia and the Veronese might each give his blessing if he took that road.[3] Peschiera, fortress fair and strong, sits to confront the Brescians and Bergamasques, where the shore round about is lowest. Thither needs must fall all that which in the lap of Benaco cannot stay, and it becomes a river down through the verdant pastures. Soon as the water gathers head to run, no longer is it called Benaco, but Mincio, far as Governo, where it falls into the Po. No long course it hath before it finds a plain, on which it spreads, and makes a marsh, and is wont in summer sometimes to be noisome. Passing that way, the cruel virgin saw a land in the middle of the fen without culture and bare of inhabitants. There, to avoid all human fellowship, she stayed with her servants to practice her arts, and lived, and left there her empty body. Afterward the men who were scattered round about gathered to that place, which was strong because of the fen which surrounded it. They built the city over those dead hones, and for her, who first had chosen the place, they called it Mantua, without other augury. Of old its people were more thick within it, before the stupidity of Casalodi had been tricked by Pinamonte.[4] Therefore I warn thee, that if thou ever hearest otherwise the origin of my town, no falsehood may defraud the truth.”

[1] The daughter of Tiresias, of whom Statius, Ovid, and Virgil all tell.

[2] Now Lago di Garda.

[3] Where the three dioceses meet.

[4] The Count of Casalodi, being lord of Mantua about 1276, gave ear to the treacherous counsels of Messer Pinamonte de Buonacorsi, and was driven, with his friends, from the city.

 

And I, “Master, thy discourses are so certain to me, and so lay hold on my faith, that the others would be to me as dead embers. But tell me of the people who are passing, if thou seest any one of them worthy of note; for only unto that my mind reverts.”

Then he said to me, “That one, who from his cheek stretches his beard upon his dusky shoulders, was an augur when Greece was so emptied of males that they scarce remained for the cradles, and with Calchas at Aulis he gave the moment for cutting the first cable. Eurypylus was his name, and thus my lofty Tragedy sings him in some place;[1] well knowest thou this, who knowest the whole of it. That other who is so small in the flanks was Michael Scott,[2] who verily knew the game of magical deceptions. See Guido Bonatti,[3] see Asdente,[4] who now would wish he had attended to his leather and his thread, but late repents. See the forlorn women who left the needle, the spool, and the spindle, and became fortune-tellers; they wrought spells with herb and with image.

[1] Suspensi Eurypylum scitantem oracula Phoebi Mittimus. Aeneid, ii. 112.

[2] A wizard of such dreaded fame That, when in Salamanca’s cave Him listed his magic wand to wave, The bells would ring in Notre Dame. Lay of the Lost Minstrel, Canto ii.

[3] A famous astrologer of Forli, in the thirteenth century.

[4] Dante, in the Canvito, trattato iv. c. 16, says that if NOBLE meant being widely known, then “Asdente, the shoemaker of Parma, would be more noble than any of his fellow-citizens.”

 

“But come on now, for already Cain with his thorns [1] holds the confines of both the hemispheres, and touches the wave below Seville. And already yesternight was the moon round; well shouldst thou remember it, for it did thee no harm sometimes in the deep wood.” Thus he spoke to me, and we went on the while.

[1] The Man in the Moon, according to an old popular legend.

 

CANTO XXI. Eighth Circle: fifth pit: barrators.—A magistrate of Lucca.—The Malebranche.—Parley with them.

So from bridge to bridge we went, speaking other things, which my Comedy careth not to sing, and held the suffimit, when we stopped to see the next cleft of Malebolge and the next vain lamentations; and I saw it wonderfully dark.

As in the Arsenal of the Venetians, in winter, the sticky pitch for smearing their unsound vessels is boiling, because they cannot go to sea, and, instead thereof, one builds him a new bark, and one caulks the sides of that which hath made many a voyage; one hammers at the prow, and one at the stern; another makes oars, and another twists the cordage; and one the foresail and the mainsail patches,—so, not by fire, but by divine art, a thick pitch was boiling there below, which belimed the bank on every side. I saw it, but saw not in it aught but the bubbles which the boiling raised, and all of it swelling up and again sinking compressed.

While I was gazing down there fixedly, my Leader, saying, “Take heed! take heed!” drew me to himself from the place where I was standing. Then I turned as one who is slow to see what it behoves him to fly, and whom a sudden fear unnerves, and delays not to depart in order to see. And I saw behind us a black devil come running up along the crag. Ah! how fell he was in aspect, and how rough he seemed to me in action, with wings open, and light upon his feet! His shoulder, which was sharp and high, was laden by a sinner with both haunches, the sinew of whose feet he held clutched. “O Malebranche[1] of our bridge,” he said, “lo, one of the Ancients of Saint Zita[2] put him under, for I return again to that city, which I have furnished well with them; every man there is a barrator,[3] except Bonturo:[4] there, for money, of No they make Ay.” He hurled him down, and along the hard crag he turned, and never mastiff loosed was in such haste to follow a thief.

[1] Malebranche means Evil-claws.

[2] One of the chief magistrates of Lucca, whose special protectress was Santa Zita.

[3] A corrupt official, selling justice or office f or bribes; in

general, a peculator or cheat.

[4] Ironical.

 

That one sank under, and came up back uppermost, but the demons that had shelter of the bridge cried out, “Here the Holy Face[1] avails not; here one swims otherwise than in the Serchio;[2] therefore, if thou dost not want our grapples, make no show above the pitch.” Then they struck him with more than a hundred prongs, and said, “Covered must thou dance here, so that, if thou canst, thou mayst swindle secretly.” Not otherwise cooks make their scullions plunge the meat with their hooks into the middle of the cauldron, so that it may not float.

[1] An image of Christ upon the cross, ascribed to Nicodemus, still venerated at Lucca.

[2] The river that runs not far from Lucca.

 

The good Master said to me, “In order that it be not apparent that thou art here, crouch down behind a splinter, that may afford some screen to thee, and at any offense that may be done to me be not afraid, for I have knowledge of these things, because another time I was at such a fray.”

Then he passed on beyond the head of the bridge, and when he arrived upon the sixth bank, he had need of a steadfast front. With such fury and with such storm, as dogs run out upon the poor wretch, who of a sudden begs where he stops, they came forth from under the little bridge, and turned against him all their forks. But he cried out, “Be no one of you savage; ere your hook take hold of me, let one of you come forward that he may hear me, and then take counsel as to grappling me.” All cried out, “Let Malacoda[1] go!” Whereon one moved, and the rest stood still; and he came toward him, saying, “What doth this avail him?” “Thinkest thou, Malacoda, to see me come here,” said my Master, “safe hitherto from all your hindrances, except by Will Divine and fate propitious? Let us go on, for in Heaven it is willed that I show another this savage road.” Then was his arrogance so fallen that he let the hook drop at his feet, and said to the rest, “Now let him not be struck.”

[1] Wicked tail.

 

And my Leader to me, “O thou that sittest cowering among the splinters of the bridge, securely now return to me.” Whereat I moved and came swiftly to him. And the devils all pressed forward, so that I feared they would not keep their compact. And thus I once saw the foot-soldiers afraid, who came out under pledge from Caprona,[1] seeing themselves among so many enemies. I drew with my whole body alongside my Leader, and turned not mine eyes from their look, which was not good. They lowered their forks, and, “Wilt thou that I touch him on the rump?” said one to the other, and they answered, “Yes, see thou nick it for him.” But that demon who was holding speech with my Leader turned very quickly and said, “Stay, stay, Scarmiglione!”

[1] In August, 1290, the town of Caprona, on the Arno, surrendered to the Florentine troops, with whom Dante was serving.

 

Then he said to us, “Further advance along this crag there cannot be, because the sixth arch lies all shattered at the bottom. And if to go forward still is your pleasure, go on along this rocky bank; near by is another crag that affords a way. Yesterday, five hours later than this hour, one thousand two hundred and sixty-six years were complete since the way was broken here.[1] I am sending thitherward some of these of mine, to see if any one is airing himself; go ye with them, for they will not be wicked. Come forward, Alichino and Calcabrina,” began he to say, “and thou, Cagnazzo; and do thou, Barbariccia, guide the ten. Let Libicocco come also, and Draghignazzo, tusked Ciriatto, and Graffiacane, and Farfarello, and mad Rubicante. Search round about the boiling pitch; let these be safe far as the next crag, that all unbroken goes over these dens.”

[1] By the earthquake at the death of the Saviour.

 

“O me! Master, what is it that I see?” said I; “pray let us go alone without escort, if thou knowest the way, for I desire it not for myself. If thou art as wary as thou art wont to be, dost thou not see that they show their teeth, and threatcn harm to us with their brows?” And he to me, “I would not have thee afraid. Let them grin on at their will, for they are doing it at the boiled wretches.”

Upon the left bank they wheeled round, but first each had pressed his tongue with his teeth toward their leader for a signal, and he had made a trumpet of his rump.

 

CANTO XXII. Eighth Circle: fifth pit: barrators.—Ciampolo of Navarre.—Fra Gomita.—Michaci Zanche.—Fray of the Malebranche.

I have seen of old horsemen moving camp, and beginning an assault, and making their muster, and sometimes setting forth on their escape; I have seen runners through your land, O Aretines, and I have seen freebooters starting, tournaments struck and jousts run, at times with trumpets, and at times with bells, with