The Divine Comedy Volume Ii Part 8

[8] The Pisans.

"I see thy grandson,[1] who becomes hunter of those wolves upon the bank of the fierce stream, and terrifies them all. He sells their flesh,[2] it being yet alive; then he slays them, like an old wild beast; many of life, himself of honor he deprives.

b.l.o.o.d.y he comes forth from the dismal wood;[3] he leaves it such, that from now for a thousand years, in its primal state it is not rewooded." As at the announcement of grievous ills, the face of him who listens is disturbed, from whatsoever side the danger may a.s.sail him, so I saw the other soul, that was turned to hear, become disturbed and sad, when it had gathered to itself the words.

[1] Fulcieri da Calvoli, so named by Villani (viii. 69), "a fierce and cruel man," was made podesta of Florence in 1302. He put to death many of the White Guelphs, and banished more of them.

[2] Bribed by the opposite party.

[3] Florence, spoiled and undone.

The speech of one and the look of the other made me wishful to know their names, and I made request for it, mixed with prayers.

Wherefore the spirit which first had spoken to me began again, "Thou wishest that I abase myself in doing that for thee which thou wilt not do for me; but since G.o.d wills that such great grace of His s.h.i.+ne through in thee, I will not be chary to thee; therefore know that I am Guido del Duca. My blood was so inflamed with envy, that had I seen a man becoming joyful, thou wouldst have seen me overspread with livid hue. Of my sowing I reap this straw. O human race, why dost thou set thy heart there where is need of exclusion of companions.h.i.+p?

"This one is Rinier; this is the glory and the honor of the house of Calboli,[1] where no one since has made himself heir of his worth. And between the Po and the mountain,[2] and the sea[3] and the Reno,[4] not his blood alone has become stripped of the good required for truth and for delight; for within these limits the ground is so full of poisonous stocks, that slowly would they now die out through cultivation. Where is the good Lizio, and Arrigo Manardi, Pier Traversaro, and Guido di Carpigna? O men of Romagna turned to b.a.s.t.a.r.ds! When in Bologna will a Fabbro take root again? When in Faenza a Bernardin di Fosco, the n.o.ble scion of a mean plant? Marvel not, Tuscan, if I weep, when I remember with Guido da Prata, Ugolin d' Azzo who lived with us, Federico Tignoso and his company, the house of Traversara, and the Anastagi, (both the one race and the other is without heir), the ladies and the cavaliers, the toils and the pleasures for which love and courtesy inspired our will, there where hearts have become so wicked. O Brettinoro! why dost thou not flee away, since thy family hath gone, and many people, in order not to be guilty? Well doth Bagnacaval that gets no more sons; and ill doth Castrocaro, and worse Conio that takes most trouble to beget such counts. Well will the Pagani do when their Demon shall go from them;[6] yet not so that a pure report of them can ever remain. O Ugolin de' Fantolin! thy name is secure, since one who, degenerating, can make it dark is no longer awaited. But go thy way, Tuscan, now; for now it pleases me far more to weep than to speak, so much hath our discourse wrung my mind."

[1] A n.o.ble Guelph family of Forli.

[2] The Apennines.

[3] The Adriatic.

[4] Near Bologna.

[5] These and the others named afterwards were well-born, honorable, and courteous men in Romagna in the thirteenth century. What is known of them may be found in Benvenuto da Imola's comment, and in that of Scartazzini.

[6] The Pagani were lords of Faenza and Imola (see h.e.l.l, Canto XXVII); the Demon was Mainardo, who died in 1302.

We knew that those dear souls heard us go; therefore by silence they made us confident of the road. After we had become alone by going on, a voice that seemed like lightning when it cleaves the air, came counter to us, saying, "Everyone that findeth me shall slay me," [1] and fled like thunder which rolls away, if suddenly the cloud is rent. Soon as our hearing had a truce from it, lo!

now another with so great a crash that it resembled thunderings in swift succession: "I am Aglauros who became a stone."[2] And then to draw me close to the Poet, I backward and not forward took a step. Now was the air quiet on every side, and he said to me, "That was the hard curb[3] which ought to hold man within his bound; but ye take the bait, so that the hook of the old adversary draws you to him, and therefore little avails bridle or lure. Heaven calls you, and around you circles, displaying to you its eternal beauties, and your eye looks only on the ground; wherefore He who discerns everything scourges you.

[1] The words of Cain--Genesis, iv. 14.

[2] Daughter of Cecrops, changed to stone because of envy of her sister.

[3] These examples of the fatal consequences of the sin.

CANTO XV. Second Ledge: the Envious.--An Angel removes the second P from Dante's forehead.--Discourse concerning the Sharing of Good.--Ascent to the Third Ledge: the Wrathful.--Examples of Forbearance seen in Vision.

As much as appears, between the beginning of the day and the close of the third hour, of the sphere that ever in manner of a child is sporting, so much now, toward the evening, appeared to be remaining of his course for the sun.[1] It was vespers[2]

there,[3] and here midnight; and the rays struck us across the nose,[4] because the mountain had been so circled by us that we were now going straight toward the sunset, when I felt my forehead weighed down by the splendor far more than at first, and the things not known were a wonder to me.[5] Wherefore I lifted my hands toward the top of my brows, and made for myself the visor that lessens the excess of what is seen.

[1] The sun was still some three hours from his setting. The sphere that ever is sportive like a child has been variously interpreted; perhaps Dante only meant the sphere of the heavens which by its ever varying aspect suggests the image of a playful spirit.

[2] Dante uses "vespers" as the term for the last of the four canonical divisions of the day; that is, from three to six P.M.

See Convito, iv. 23. Three o'clock in Purgatory corresponds with midnight in Italy.

[3] In Italy.

[4] Full in the face.

[5] The source of this increase of brightness being unknown, it caused him astonishment.

As when from water, or from the mirror, the ray leaps to the opposite quarter, and, mounting up in like manner to that in which it descends, at equal distance departs as much from the falling of the stone,[1] as experiment and art show; so it seemed to me that I was struck by light reflected there in front of me, from which my sight was swift to fly. "What is that, sweet Father, from which I cannot screen my sight so that it avails me," said I, "and which seems to be moving toward us?" "Marvel not if the family of Heaven still dazzle thee," he replied to me; "it is a messenger that comes to invite men to ascend. Soon will it be that to see these things will not be grievous to thee, but will be delight to thee as great as nature fitted thee to feel."

[1] I.e., the perpendicular, at the point of incidence.

When we had reached the blessed Angel, with a glad voice he said, "Enter ye here to a stairway far less steep than the others."

We were mounting, already departed thence, and "Beati misericordes"[1] had been sung behind us, and "Rejoice thou that overcomest." [2] My Master and I, we two alone, were going on upward, and I was thinking to win profit as we went from his words; and I addressed me to him, thus enquiring, "What did the spirit from Romagna mean, mentioning exclusion and companions.h.i.+p?"[3] Wherefore he to me, "Of his own greatest fault he knows the harm, and therefore it is not to be wondered at if he reprove it, in order that there may be less lamenting on account of it. Because your desires are directed there, where, through companions.h.i.+p, a share is lessened, envy moves the bellows for your sighs. But if the love of the highest sphere[4]

had turned your desire on high, that fear would not be in your breast; for the more there are who there say 'ours,' so much the more of good doth each possess, and the more of charity burns in that cloister."[5] "I am more hungering to be contented," said I, "than if I had at first been silent, and more of doubt I a.s.semble in my mind. How can it be that a good distributed makes more possessors richer with itself, than if by few it is possessed?"[6] And he to me, "Because thou fastenest thy mind only on earthly things, from true light thou gatherest darkness.

That infinite and ineffable Good which is on high, runs to love even as the sunbeam comes to a lucid body. As much of itself it gives as it finds of ardor; so that how far soever charity extends, beyond it doth the eternal bounty increase. And the more the people who are intent on high the more there are for loving well, and the more love is there, and like a mirror one reflects to the other. And if my discourse appease not thy hunger, thou shalt see Beatrice, and she will fully take from thee this and every other longing. Strive only that soon may be extinct, as two already are, the five wounds that are closed up by being painful."[7]

[1] "Blessed are the merciful."

[2] At the pa.s.sage from each round, the Angel at the foot of the stairs repeats words from the Beat.i.tudes adapted to those purified from the sin punished upon the ledge which is being left.

[3] In the last canto, Guido del Duca had exclaimed, "O human race, why dost thou set thy heart there where companions.h.i.+p must needs be excluded!"

[4] The Empyrean.

[5] "Since good, the more Communicated, the more abundant grows."

Milton, Paradise Lost, v. 73.

[6] "True love in this differs from gold and clay, That to divide is not to take away."--Sh.e.l.ley, Epipsychidion.

[7] The pain of contrition.

As I was about to say "Thou satisfiest me," I saw myself arrived on the next round,[1] so that my eager eyes made me silent. There it seemed to me I was of a sudden rapt in an ecstatic vision, and saw many persons in a temple, and a lady at the entrance, with the sweet action of a mother, saying, "My son, why hast thou done thus toward us? Lo, sorrowing, thy father and I were seeking thee;" and when here she was silent, that which first appeared, disappeared.

[1] Where the sin of anger is expiated.

Then appeared to me another, with those waters down along her cheeks which grief distils when it springs from great despite toward others, and she was saying, "If thou art lord of the city about whose name was such great strife among the G.o.ds, and whence every science sparkles forth, avenge thyself on those audacious arms, that have embraced our daughter, O Pisistratus." And the lord appeared to me, benign and mild, to answer her, with temperate look, "What shall we do to him who desires ill for us, if he who loves us is by us condemned?"[1]

[1] Dante translated this story from Valerius Maximus, Facta et dicta mem., vi. 1.

Then I saw people kindled with fire of wrath, killing a youth with stones, loudly crying to each other only, "Slay, slay." And I saw him bowed by death, which now was weighing on him, toward the ground, but in such great strife he ever made of his eyes gates for heaven, praying to the high Lord, that He would pardon his persecutors, with that aspect which unlocks pity.[1]