CANTO XIII.

CANTO XIII.Ere Nessus landed on the other shoreWe for our part within a forest[418]drew,Which of no pathway any traces bore.Not green the foliage, but of dusky hue;Not smooth the boughs, but gnarled and twisted round;For apples, poisonous thorns upon them grew.No rougher brakes or matted worse are foundWhere savage beasts betwixt Corneto[419]roamAnd Cecina,[419]abhorring cultured ground.The loathsome Harpies[420]nestle here at home,10Who from the Strophades the Trojans chasedWith dire predictions of a woe to come.Great winged are they, but human necked and faced,With feathered belly, and with claw for toe;They shriek upon the bushes wild and waste.‘Ere passing further, I would have thee know,’The worthy Master thus began to say,‘Thou’rt in the second round, nor hence shalt goTill by the horrid sand thy footsteps stay.Give then good heed, and things thou’lt recognise20That of my words will prove[421]the verity.’Wailings on every side I heard arise:Of who might raise them I distinguished nought;Whereon I halted, smitten with surprise.I think he thought that haply ’twas my thoughtThe voices came from people ’mong the trees,Who, to escape us, hiding-places sought;Wherefore the Master said: ‘From one of theseSnap thou a twig, and thou shalt understandHow little with thy thought the fact agrees.’30Thereon a little I stretched forth my handAnd plucked a tiny branch from a great thorn.‘Why dost thou tear me?’ made the trunk demand.When dark with blood it had begun to turn,It cried a second time: ‘Why wound me thus?Doth not a spark of pity in thee burn?Though trees we be, once men were all of us;Yet had our souls the souls of serpents beenThy hand might well have proved more piteous.’As when the fire hath seized a fagot green40At one extremity, the other sighs,And wind, escaping, hisses; so was seen,At where the branch was broken, blood to riseAnd words were mixed with it. I dropped the sprayAnd stood like one whom terror doth surprise.The Sage replied: ‘Soul vexed with injury,Had he been only able to give trustTo what he read narrated in my lay,[422]His hand toward thee would never have been thrust.’Tis hard for faith; and I, to make it plain,50Urged him to trial, mourn it though I must.But tell him who thou wast; so shall remainThis for amends to thee, thy fame shall blowAfresh on earth, where he returns again.’And then the trunk: ‘Thy sweet words charm me so,I cannot dumb remain; nor count it hardIf I some pains upon my speech bestow.For I am he[423]who held both keys in wardOf Frederick’s heart, and turned them how I would,And softly oped it, and as softly barred,60Till scarce another in his counsel stood.To my high office I such loyalty bore,It cost me sleep and haleness of my blood.The harlot[424]who removeth nevermoreFrom Cæsar’s house eyes ignorant of shame—A common curse, of courts the special sore—Set against me the minds of all aflame,And these in turn Augustus set on fire,Till my glad honours bitter woes became.My soul, filled full with a disdainful ire,70Thinking by means of death disdain to flee,’Gainst my just self unjustly did conspire.I swear even by the new roots of this treeMy fealty to my lord I never broke,For worthy of all honour sure was he.If one of you return ’mong living folk,Let him restore my memory, overthrownAnd suffering yet because of envy’s stroke.’Still for a while the poet listened on,Then said: ‘Now he is dumb, lose not the hour,80But make request if more thou’dst have made known.’And I replied: ‘Do thou inquire once moreOf what thou thinkest[425]I would gladly know;I cannot ask; ruth wrings me to the core.’On this he spake: ‘Even as the man shall do,And liberally, what thou of him hast prayed,Imprisoned spirit, do thou further showHow with these knots the spirits have been madeIncorporate; and, if thou canst, declareIf from such members e’er is loosed a shade.’90Then from the trunk came vehement puffs of air;Next, to these words converted was the wind:‘My answer to you shall be short and clear.When the fierce soul no longer is confinedIn flesh, torn thence by action of its own,To the Seventh Depth by Minos ’tis consigned.No choice is made of where it shall be thrownWithin the wood; but where by chance ’tis flungIt germinates like seed of spelt that’s sown.A forest tree it grows from sapling young;100Eating its leaves, the Harpies cause it pain,And open loopholes whence its sighs are wrung.We for our vestments shall return againLike others, but in them shall ne’er be clad:[426]Men justly lose what from themselves they’ve ta’en.Dragged hither by us, all throughout the sadForest our bodies shall be hung on high;Each on the thorn of its destructive shade.’While to the trunk we listening lingered nigh,Thinking he might proceed to tell us more,110A sudden uproar we were startled byLike him who, that the huntsman and the boarTo where he stands are sweeping in the chase,Knows by the crashing trees and brutish roar.Upon our left we saw a couple raceNaked[427]and scratched; and they so quickly fledThe forest barriers burst before their face.‘Speed to my rescue, death!’ the foremost pled.The next, as wishing he could use more haste;‘Not thus, O Lano,[428]thee thy legs bested120When one at Toppo’s tournament thou wast.’Then, haply wanting breath, aside he stepped,Merged with a bush on which himself he cast.Behind them through the forest onward sweptA pack of dogs, black, ravenous, and fleet,Like greyhounds from their leashes newly slipped.In him who crouched they made their teeth to meet,And, having piecemeal all his members rent,Haled them away enduring anguish great.Grasping my hand, my Escort forward went130And led me to the bush which, all in vain,Through its ensanguined openings made lament.‘James of St. Andrews,’[429]it we heard complain;‘What profit hadst thou making me thy shield?For thy bad life doth blame to me pertain?’Then, halting there, this speech my Master held:‘Who wast thou that through many wounds dost sigh,Mingled with blood, words big with sorrow swelled?’‘O souls that hither come,’ was his reply,‘To witness shameful outrage by me borne,140Whence all my leaves torn off around me lie,Gather them to the root of this drear thorn.My city[430]for the Baptist changed of yoreHer former patron; wherefore, in return,He with his art will make her aye deplore;And were it not some image doth remainOf him where Arno’s crossed from shore to shore,Those citizens who founded her againOn ashes left by Attila,[431]had spentTheir labour of a surety all in vain.150In my own house[432]I up a gibbet went.’FOOTNOTES:[418]A forest: The second round of the Seventh Circle consists of a belt of tangled forest, enclosed by the river of blood, and devoted to suicides and prodigals.[419]Corneto and Cecina: Corneto is a town on the coast of what used to be the States of the Church; Cecina a stream not far south of Leghorn. Between them lies the Maremma, a district of great natural fertility, now being restored again to cultivation, but for ages a neglected and poisonous wilderness.[420]Harpies: Monsters with the bodies of birds and the heads of women. In theÆneidiii., they are described as defiling the feast of which the Trojans were about to partake on one of the Strophades—islands of the Ægean; and on that occasion the prophecy was made that Æneas and his followers should be reduced to eat their tables ere they acquired a settlement in Italy. Here the Harpies symbolise shameful waste and disgust with life.[421]Will prove, etc.: The things seen by Dante are to make credible what Virgil tells (Æn.iii.) of the blood and piteous voice that issued from the torn bushes on the tomb of Polydorus.[422]My lay: See previous note. Dante thus indirectly acknowledges his debt to Virgil; and, perhaps, at the same time puts in his claim to an imaginative licence equal to that taken by his master. On a modern reader the effect of the reference is to weaken the verisimilitude of the incident.[423]For I am he, etc.: The speaker is Pier delle Vigne, who from being a begging student of Bologna rose to be the Chancellor of the Emperor FrederickII., the chief councillor of that monarch, and one of the brightest ornaments of his intellectual court. Peter was perhaps the more endeared to his master because, like him, he was a poet of no mean order. There are two accounts of what caused his disgrace. According to one of these he was found to have betrayed Frederick’s interests in favour of the Pope’s; and according to the other he tried to poison him. Neither is it known whether he committed suicide; though he is said to have done so after being disgraced, by dashing his brains out against a church wall in Pisa. Dante clearly follows this legend. The whole episode is eloquent of the esteem in which Peter’s memory was held by Dante. His name is not mentioned in Inferno, but yet the promise is amply kept that it shall flourish on earth again, freed from unmerited disgrace. He died about 1249.[424]The harlot: Envy.[425]Of what thou thinkest, etc.: Virgil never asks a question for his own satisfaction. He knows who the spirits are, what brought them there, and which of them will speak honestly out on the promise of having his fame refreshed in the world. It should be noted how, by a hint, he has made Peter aware of who he is (line 48); a delicate attention yielded to no other shade in the Inferno, except Ulysses (Inf.xxvi. 79), and, perhaps, Brunetto Latini (Inf.xv. 99).[426]In them shall ne’er be clad: Boccaccio is here at great pains to save Dante from a charge of contradicting the tenet of the resurrection of the flesh.[427]Naked: These are the prodigals; their nakedness representing the state to which in life they had reduced themselves.[428]Lano: Who made one of a club of prodigals in Siena (Inf.xxix. 130) and soon ran through his fortune. Joining in a Florentine expedition in 1288 against Arezzo, he refused to escape from a defeat encountered by his side at Pieve del Toppo, preferring, as was supposed, to end his life at once rather than drag it out in poverty.[429]James of St. Andrews: Jacopo da Sant’ Andrea, a Paduan who inherited enormous wealth which did not last him for long. He literally threw money away, and would burn a house for the sake of the blaze. His death has been placed in 1239.[430]My city, etc.: According to tradition the original patron of Florence was Mars. In Dante’s time an ancient statue, supposed to be of that god, stood upon the Old Bridge of Florence. It is referred to inParad.xvi. 47 and 145. Benvenuto says that he had heard from Boccaccio, who had frequently heard it from old people, that the statue was regarded with great awe. If a boy flung stones or mud at it, the bystanders would say of him that he would make a bad end. It was lost in the great flood of 1333. Here the Florentine shade represents Mars as troubling Florence with wars in revenge for being cast off as a patron.[431]Attila: A confusion with Totila. Attila was never so far south as Tuscany. Neither is there reason to believe that when Totila took the city he destroyed it. But the legend was that it was rebuilt in the time of Charles the Great.[432]My own house, etc.: It is not settled who this was who hanged himself from the beams of his own roof. One of the Agli, say some; others, one of the Mozzi. Boccaccio and Peter Dante remark that suicide by hanging was common in Florence. But Dante’s text seems pretty often to have suggested the invention of details in support or illustration of it.

Ere Nessus landed on the other shoreWe for our part within a forest[418]drew,Which of no pathway any traces bore.Not green the foliage, but of dusky hue;Not smooth the boughs, but gnarled and twisted round;For apples, poisonous thorns upon them grew.No rougher brakes or matted worse are foundWhere savage beasts betwixt Corneto[419]roamAnd Cecina,[419]abhorring cultured ground.The loathsome Harpies[420]nestle here at home,10Who from the Strophades the Trojans chasedWith dire predictions of a woe to come.Great winged are they, but human necked and faced,With feathered belly, and with claw for toe;They shriek upon the bushes wild and waste.‘Ere passing further, I would have thee know,’The worthy Master thus began to say,‘Thou’rt in the second round, nor hence shalt goTill by the horrid sand thy footsteps stay.Give then good heed, and things thou’lt recognise20That of my words will prove[421]the verity.’Wailings on every side I heard arise:Of who might raise them I distinguished nought;Whereon I halted, smitten with surprise.I think he thought that haply ’twas my thoughtThe voices came from people ’mong the trees,Who, to escape us, hiding-places sought;Wherefore the Master said: ‘From one of theseSnap thou a twig, and thou shalt understandHow little with thy thought the fact agrees.’30Thereon a little I stretched forth my handAnd plucked a tiny branch from a great thorn.‘Why dost thou tear me?’ made the trunk demand.When dark with blood it had begun to turn,It cried a second time: ‘Why wound me thus?Doth not a spark of pity in thee burn?Though trees we be, once men were all of us;Yet had our souls the souls of serpents beenThy hand might well have proved more piteous.’As when the fire hath seized a fagot green40At one extremity, the other sighs,And wind, escaping, hisses; so was seen,At where the branch was broken, blood to riseAnd words were mixed with it. I dropped the sprayAnd stood like one whom terror doth surprise.The Sage replied: ‘Soul vexed with injury,Had he been only able to give trustTo what he read narrated in my lay,[422]His hand toward thee would never have been thrust.’Tis hard for faith; and I, to make it plain,50Urged him to trial, mourn it though I must.But tell him who thou wast; so shall remainThis for amends to thee, thy fame shall blowAfresh on earth, where he returns again.’And then the trunk: ‘Thy sweet words charm me so,I cannot dumb remain; nor count it hardIf I some pains upon my speech bestow.For I am he[423]who held both keys in wardOf Frederick’s heart, and turned them how I would,And softly oped it, and as softly barred,60Till scarce another in his counsel stood.To my high office I such loyalty bore,It cost me sleep and haleness of my blood.The harlot[424]who removeth nevermoreFrom Cæsar’s house eyes ignorant of shame—A common curse, of courts the special sore—Set against me the minds of all aflame,And these in turn Augustus set on fire,Till my glad honours bitter woes became.My soul, filled full with a disdainful ire,70Thinking by means of death disdain to flee,’Gainst my just self unjustly did conspire.I swear even by the new roots of this treeMy fealty to my lord I never broke,For worthy of all honour sure was he.If one of you return ’mong living folk,Let him restore my memory, overthrownAnd suffering yet because of envy’s stroke.’Still for a while the poet listened on,Then said: ‘Now he is dumb, lose not the hour,80But make request if more thou’dst have made known.’And I replied: ‘Do thou inquire once moreOf what thou thinkest[425]I would gladly know;I cannot ask; ruth wrings me to the core.’On this he spake: ‘Even as the man shall do,And liberally, what thou of him hast prayed,Imprisoned spirit, do thou further showHow with these knots the spirits have been madeIncorporate; and, if thou canst, declareIf from such members e’er is loosed a shade.’90Then from the trunk came vehement puffs of air;Next, to these words converted was the wind:‘My answer to you shall be short and clear.When the fierce soul no longer is confinedIn flesh, torn thence by action of its own,To the Seventh Depth by Minos ’tis consigned.No choice is made of where it shall be thrownWithin the wood; but where by chance ’tis flungIt germinates like seed of spelt that’s sown.A forest tree it grows from sapling young;100Eating its leaves, the Harpies cause it pain,And open loopholes whence its sighs are wrung.We for our vestments shall return againLike others, but in them shall ne’er be clad:[426]Men justly lose what from themselves they’ve ta’en.Dragged hither by us, all throughout the sadForest our bodies shall be hung on high;Each on the thorn of its destructive shade.’While to the trunk we listening lingered nigh,Thinking he might proceed to tell us more,110A sudden uproar we were startled byLike him who, that the huntsman and the boarTo where he stands are sweeping in the chase,Knows by the crashing trees and brutish roar.Upon our left we saw a couple raceNaked[427]and scratched; and they so quickly fledThe forest barriers burst before their face.‘Speed to my rescue, death!’ the foremost pled.The next, as wishing he could use more haste;‘Not thus, O Lano,[428]thee thy legs bested120When one at Toppo’s tournament thou wast.’Then, haply wanting breath, aside he stepped,Merged with a bush on which himself he cast.Behind them through the forest onward sweptA pack of dogs, black, ravenous, and fleet,Like greyhounds from their leashes newly slipped.In him who crouched they made their teeth to meet,And, having piecemeal all his members rent,Haled them away enduring anguish great.Grasping my hand, my Escort forward went130And led me to the bush which, all in vain,Through its ensanguined openings made lament.‘James of St. Andrews,’[429]it we heard complain;‘What profit hadst thou making me thy shield?For thy bad life doth blame to me pertain?’Then, halting there, this speech my Master held:‘Who wast thou that through many wounds dost sigh,Mingled with blood, words big with sorrow swelled?’‘O souls that hither come,’ was his reply,‘To witness shameful outrage by me borne,140Whence all my leaves torn off around me lie,Gather them to the root of this drear thorn.My city[430]for the Baptist changed of yoreHer former patron; wherefore, in return,He with his art will make her aye deplore;And were it not some image doth remainOf him where Arno’s crossed from shore to shore,Those citizens who founded her againOn ashes left by Attila,[431]had spentTheir labour of a surety all in vain.150In my own house[432]I up a gibbet went.’

FOOTNOTES:[418]A forest: The second round of the Seventh Circle consists of a belt of tangled forest, enclosed by the river of blood, and devoted to suicides and prodigals.[419]Corneto and Cecina: Corneto is a town on the coast of what used to be the States of the Church; Cecina a stream not far south of Leghorn. Between them lies the Maremma, a district of great natural fertility, now being restored again to cultivation, but for ages a neglected and poisonous wilderness.[420]Harpies: Monsters with the bodies of birds and the heads of women. In theÆneidiii., they are described as defiling the feast of which the Trojans were about to partake on one of the Strophades—islands of the Ægean; and on that occasion the prophecy was made that Æneas and his followers should be reduced to eat their tables ere they acquired a settlement in Italy. Here the Harpies symbolise shameful waste and disgust with life.[421]Will prove, etc.: The things seen by Dante are to make credible what Virgil tells (Æn.iii.) of the blood and piteous voice that issued from the torn bushes on the tomb of Polydorus.[422]My lay: See previous note. Dante thus indirectly acknowledges his debt to Virgil; and, perhaps, at the same time puts in his claim to an imaginative licence equal to that taken by his master. On a modern reader the effect of the reference is to weaken the verisimilitude of the incident.[423]For I am he, etc.: The speaker is Pier delle Vigne, who from being a begging student of Bologna rose to be the Chancellor of the Emperor FrederickII., the chief councillor of that monarch, and one of the brightest ornaments of his intellectual court. Peter was perhaps the more endeared to his master because, like him, he was a poet of no mean order. There are two accounts of what caused his disgrace. According to one of these he was found to have betrayed Frederick’s interests in favour of the Pope’s; and according to the other he tried to poison him. Neither is it known whether he committed suicide; though he is said to have done so after being disgraced, by dashing his brains out against a church wall in Pisa. Dante clearly follows this legend. The whole episode is eloquent of the esteem in which Peter’s memory was held by Dante. His name is not mentioned in Inferno, but yet the promise is amply kept that it shall flourish on earth again, freed from unmerited disgrace. He died about 1249.[424]The harlot: Envy.[425]Of what thou thinkest, etc.: Virgil never asks a question for his own satisfaction. He knows who the spirits are, what brought them there, and which of them will speak honestly out on the promise of having his fame refreshed in the world. It should be noted how, by a hint, he has made Peter aware of who he is (line 48); a delicate attention yielded to no other shade in the Inferno, except Ulysses (Inf.xxvi. 79), and, perhaps, Brunetto Latini (Inf.xv. 99).[426]In them shall ne’er be clad: Boccaccio is here at great pains to save Dante from a charge of contradicting the tenet of the resurrection of the flesh.[427]Naked: These are the prodigals; their nakedness representing the state to which in life they had reduced themselves.[428]Lano: Who made one of a club of prodigals in Siena (Inf.xxix. 130) and soon ran through his fortune. Joining in a Florentine expedition in 1288 against Arezzo, he refused to escape from a defeat encountered by his side at Pieve del Toppo, preferring, as was supposed, to end his life at once rather than drag it out in poverty.[429]James of St. Andrews: Jacopo da Sant’ Andrea, a Paduan who inherited enormous wealth which did not last him for long. He literally threw money away, and would burn a house for the sake of the blaze. His death has been placed in 1239.[430]My city, etc.: According to tradition the original patron of Florence was Mars. In Dante’s time an ancient statue, supposed to be of that god, stood upon the Old Bridge of Florence. It is referred to inParad.xvi. 47 and 145. Benvenuto says that he had heard from Boccaccio, who had frequently heard it from old people, that the statue was regarded with great awe. If a boy flung stones or mud at it, the bystanders would say of him that he would make a bad end. It was lost in the great flood of 1333. Here the Florentine shade represents Mars as troubling Florence with wars in revenge for being cast off as a patron.[431]Attila: A confusion with Totila. Attila was never so far south as Tuscany. Neither is there reason to believe that when Totila took the city he destroyed it. But the legend was that it was rebuilt in the time of Charles the Great.[432]My own house, etc.: It is not settled who this was who hanged himself from the beams of his own roof. One of the Agli, say some; others, one of the Mozzi. Boccaccio and Peter Dante remark that suicide by hanging was common in Florence. But Dante’s text seems pretty often to have suggested the invention of details in support or illustration of it.

[418]A forest: The second round of the Seventh Circle consists of a belt of tangled forest, enclosed by the river of blood, and devoted to suicides and prodigals.

[419]Corneto and Cecina: Corneto is a town on the coast of what used to be the States of the Church; Cecina a stream not far south of Leghorn. Between them lies the Maremma, a district of great natural fertility, now being restored again to cultivation, but for ages a neglected and poisonous wilderness.

[420]Harpies: Monsters with the bodies of birds and the heads of women. In theÆneidiii., they are described as defiling the feast of which the Trojans were about to partake on one of the Strophades—islands of the Ægean; and on that occasion the prophecy was made that Æneas and his followers should be reduced to eat their tables ere they acquired a settlement in Italy. Here the Harpies symbolise shameful waste and disgust with life.

[421]Will prove, etc.: The things seen by Dante are to make credible what Virgil tells (Æn.iii.) of the blood and piteous voice that issued from the torn bushes on the tomb of Polydorus.

[422]My lay: See previous note. Dante thus indirectly acknowledges his debt to Virgil; and, perhaps, at the same time puts in his claim to an imaginative licence equal to that taken by his master. On a modern reader the effect of the reference is to weaken the verisimilitude of the incident.

[423]For I am he, etc.: The speaker is Pier delle Vigne, who from being a begging student of Bologna rose to be the Chancellor of the Emperor FrederickII., the chief councillor of that monarch, and one of the brightest ornaments of his intellectual court. Peter was perhaps the more endeared to his master because, like him, he was a poet of no mean order. There are two accounts of what caused his disgrace. According to one of these he was found to have betrayed Frederick’s interests in favour of the Pope’s; and according to the other he tried to poison him. Neither is it known whether he committed suicide; though he is said to have done so after being disgraced, by dashing his brains out against a church wall in Pisa. Dante clearly follows this legend. The whole episode is eloquent of the esteem in which Peter’s memory was held by Dante. His name is not mentioned in Inferno, but yet the promise is amply kept that it shall flourish on earth again, freed from unmerited disgrace. He died about 1249.

[424]The harlot: Envy.

[425]Of what thou thinkest, etc.: Virgil never asks a question for his own satisfaction. He knows who the spirits are, what brought them there, and which of them will speak honestly out on the promise of having his fame refreshed in the world. It should be noted how, by a hint, he has made Peter aware of who he is (line 48); a delicate attention yielded to no other shade in the Inferno, except Ulysses (Inf.xxvi. 79), and, perhaps, Brunetto Latini (Inf.xv. 99).

[426]In them shall ne’er be clad: Boccaccio is here at great pains to save Dante from a charge of contradicting the tenet of the resurrection of the flesh.

[427]Naked: These are the prodigals; their nakedness representing the state to which in life they had reduced themselves.

[428]Lano: Who made one of a club of prodigals in Siena (Inf.xxix. 130) and soon ran through his fortune. Joining in a Florentine expedition in 1288 against Arezzo, he refused to escape from a defeat encountered by his side at Pieve del Toppo, preferring, as was supposed, to end his life at once rather than drag it out in poverty.

[429]James of St. Andrews: Jacopo da Sant’ Andrea, a Paduan who inherited enormous wealth which did not last him for long. He literally threw money away, and would burn a house for the sake of the blaze. His death has been placed in 1239.

[430]My city, etc.: According to tradition the original patron of Florence was Mars. In Dante’s time an ancient statue, supposed to be of that god, stood upon the Old Bridge of Florence. It is referred to inParad.xvi. 47 and 145. Benvenuto says that he had heard from Boccaccio, who had frequently heard it from old people, that the statue was regarded with great awe. If a boy flung stones or mud at it, the bystanders would say of him that he would make a bad end. It was lost in the great flood of 1333. Here the Florentine shade represents Mars as troubling Florence with wars in revenge for being cast off as a patron.

[431]Attila: A confusion with Totila. Attila was never so far south as Tuscany. Neither is there reason to believe that when Totila took the city he destroyed it. But the legend was that it was rebuilt in the time of Charles the Great.

[432]My own house, etc.: It is not settled who this was who hanged himself from the beams of his own roof. One of the Agli, say some; others, one of the Mozzi. Boccaccio and Peter Dante remark that suicide by hanging was common in Florence. But Dante’s text seems pretty often to have suggested the invention of details in support or illustration of it.

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