CANTO XVI.

Now could I hear the water as it fell

To the next circle[479] with a murmuring sound

Like what is heard from swarming hives to swell;

When three shades all together with a bound

Burst from a troop met by us pressing on

'Neath rain of that sharp torment. O'er the ground

Toward us approaching, they exclaimed each one:

'Halt thou, whom from thy garb[480] we judge to be

A citizen of our corrupted town.'

Alas, what scars I on their limbs did see, 10

Both old and recent, which the flames had made:

Even now my ruth is fed by memory.

My Teacher halted at their cry, and said:

'Await a while:' and looked me in the face;

'Some courtesy to these were well displayed.

And but that fire--the manner of the place--

Descends for ever, fitting 'twere to find

Rather than them, thee quickening thy pace.'

When we had halted, they again combined

In their old song; and, reaching where we stood, 20

Into a wheel all three were intertwined.

And as the athletes used, well oiled and nude,

To feel their grip and, wary, watch their chance,

Ere they to purpose strike and wrestle could;

So each of them kept fixed on me his glance

As he wheeled round,[481] and in opposing ways

His neck and feet seemed ever to advance.

'Ah, if the misery of this sand-strewn place

Bring us and our petitions in despite,'

One then began, 'and flayed and grimy face; 30

Let at the least our fame goodwill incite

To tell us who thou art, whose living feet

Thus through Inferno wander without fright.

For he whose footprints, as thou see'st, I beat,

Though now he goes with body peeled and nude,

More than thou thinkest, in the world was great.

The grandson was he of Gualdrada good;

He, Guidoguerra,[482] with his armèd hand

Did mighty things, and by his counsel shrewd.

The other who behind me treads the sand 40

Is one whose name should on the earth be dear;

For he is Tegghiaio[483] Aldobrand.

And I, who am tormented with them here,

James Rusticucci[484] was; my fierce and proud

Wife of my ruin was chief minister.'

If from the fire there had been any shroud

I should have leaped down 'mong them, nor have earned

Blame, for my Teacher sure had this allowed.

But since I should have been all baked and burned,

Terror prevailed the goodwill to restrain 50

With which to clasp them in my arms I yearned.

Then I began: ''Twas not contempt but pain

Which your condition in my breast awoke,

Where deeply rooted it will long remain,

When this my Master words unto me spoke,

By which expectancy was in me stirred

That ye who came were honourable folk.

I of your city[485] am, and with my word

Your deeds and honoured names oft to recall

Delighted, and with joy of them I heard. 60

To the sweet fruits I go, and leave the gall,

As promised to me by my Escort true;

But first I to the centre down must fall.'

'So may thy soul thy members long endue

With vital power,' the other made reply,

'And after thee thy fame[486] its light renew;

As thou shalt tell if worth and courtesy

Within our city as of yore remain,

Or from it have been wholly forced to fly.

For William Borsier,[487] one of yonder train, 70

And but of late joined with us in this woe,

Causeth us with his words exceeding pain.'

'Upstarts, and fortunes suddenly that grow,

Have bred in thee pride and extravagance,[488]

Whence tears, O Florence! thou art shedding now.'

Thus cried I with uplifted countenance.

The three, accepting it for a reply,

Glanced each at each as hearing truth men glance.

And all: 'If others thou shalt satisfy

As well at other times[489] at no more cost, 80

Happy thus at thine ease the truth to cry!

Therefore if thou escap'st these regions lost,

Returning to behold the starlight fair,

Then when "There was I,"[490] thou shalt make thy boast,

Something of us do thou 'mong men declare.'

Then broken was the wheel, and as they fled

Their nimble legs like pinions beat the air.

So much as one _Amen!_ had scarce been said

Quicker than what they vanished from our view.

On this once more the way my Master led. 90

I followed, and ere long so near we drew

To where the water fell, that for its roar

Speech scarcely had been heard between us two.

And as the stream which of all those which pour

East (from Mount Viso counting) by its own

Course falls the first from Apennine to shore--

As Acquacheta[491] in the uplands known

By name, ere plunging to its bed profound;

Name lost ere by Forlì its waters run--

Above St. Benedict with one long bound, 100

Where for a thousand[492] would be ample room,

Falls from the mountain to the lower ground;

Down the steep cliff that water dyed in gloom

We found to fall echoing from side to side,

Stunning the ear with its tremendous boom.

There was a cord about my middle tied,

With which I once had thought that I might hold

Secure the leopard with the painted hide.

When this from round me I had quite unrolled

To him I handed it, all coiled and tight; 110

As by my Leader I had first been told.

Himself then bending somewhat toward the right,[493]

He just beyond the edge of the abyss

Threw down the cord,[494] which disappeared from sight.

'That some strange thing will follow upon this

Unwonted signal which my Master's eye

Thus follows,' so I thought, 'can hardly miss.'

Ah, what great caution need we standing by

Those who behold not only what is done,

But who have wit our hidden thoughts to spy! 120

He said to me: 'There shall emerge, and soon,

What I await; and quickly to thy view

That which thou dream'st of shall be clearly known.'[495]

From utterance of truth which seems untrue

A man, whene'er he can, should guard his tongue;

Lest he win blame to no transgression due.

Yet now I must speak out, and by the song

Of this my Comedy, Reader, I swear--

So in good liking may it last full long!--

I saw a shape swim upward through that air. 130

All indistinct with gross obscurity,

Enough to fill the stoutest heart with fear:

Like one who rises having dived to free

An anchor grappled on a jagged stone,

Or something else deep hidden in the sea;

With feet drawn in and arms all open thrown.

FOOTNOTES:

[479] _The next circle_: The Eighth.

[480] _Thy garb_: 'Almost every city,' says Boccaccio, 'had in those

times its peculiar fashion of dress distinct from that of neighboring

cities.'

[481] _As he wheeled round_: Virgil and Dante have come to a halt upon

the embankment. The three shades, to whom it is forbidden to be at rest

for a moment, clasping one another as in a dance, keep wheeling round in

circle upon the sand.

[482] _Guidoguerra_: A descendant of the Counts Guidi of Modigliana.

Gualdrada was the daughter of Bellincion Berti de' Ravignani, praised

for his simple habits in the _Paradiso_, xv. 112. Guidoguerra was a

Guelf leader, and after the defeat of Montaperti acted as Captain of his

party, in this capacity lending valuable aid to Charles of Anjou at the

battle of Benevento, 1266, when Manfred was overthrown. He had no

children, and left the Commonwealth of Florence his heir.

[483] _Tegghiaio_: Son of Aldobrando of the Adimari. His name should be

dear in Florence, because he did all he could to dissuade the citizens

from the campaign which ended so disastrously at Montaperti.

[484] _James Rusticucci_: An accomplished cavalier of humble birth, said

to have been a retainer of Dante's friends the Cavalcanti. The

commentators have little to tell of him except that he made an unhappy

marriage, which is evident from the text. Of the sins of him and his

companions there is nothing known beyond what is to be inferred from the

poet's words, and nothing to say, except that when Dante consigned men

of their stamp, frank and amiable, to the Infernal Circles, we may be

sure that he only executed a verdict already accepted as just by the

whole of Florence. And when we find him impartially damning Guelf and

Ghibeline we may be equally sure that he looked for the aid of neither

party, and of no family however powerful in the State, to bring his

banishment to a close. He would even seem to be careful to stop any hole

by which he might creep back to Florence. When he did return, it was to

be in the train of the Emperor, so he hoped, and as one who gives rather

than seeks forgiveness.

[485] _Of your city, etc._: At line 32 Rusticucci begs Dante to tell who

he is. He tells that he is of their city, which they have already

gathered from his _berretta_ and the fashion of his gown; but he tells

nothing, almost, of himself. Unless to Farinata, indeed, he never makes

an open breast to any one met in Inferno. But here he does all that

courtesy requires.

[486] _Thy fame_: Dante has implied in his answer that he is gifted with

oratorical powers and is the object of a special Divine care; and the

illustrious Florentine, frankly acknowledging the claim he makes,

adjures him by the fame which is his in store to appease an eager

curiosity about the Florence which even in Inferno is the first thought

of every not ignoble Florentine.

[487] _William Borsiere_: A Florentine, witty and well bred, according

to Boccaccio. Being once at Genoa he was shown a fine new palace by its

miserly owner, and was asked to suggest a subject for a painting with

which to adorn the hall. The subject was to be something that nobody had

ever seen. Borsiere proposed liberality as something that the miser at

any rate had never yet got a good sight of; an answer of which it is not

easy to detect either the wit or the courtesy, but which is said to have

converted the churl to liberal ways (_Decam._ i. 8). He is here

introduced as an authority on the noble style of manners.

[488] _Pride and extravagance_: In place of the nobility of mind that

leads to great actions, and the gentle manners that prevail in a society

where there is a due subordination of rank to rank and well-defined

duties for every man. This, the aristocratic in a noble sense, was

Dante's ideal of a social state; for all his instincts were those of a

Florentine aristocrat, corrected though they were by his good sense and

his thirst for a reign of perfect justice. During his own time he had

seen Florence grow more and more democratic; and he was

irritated--unreasonably, considering that it was only a sign of the

general prosperity--at the spectacle of the amazing growth of wealth in

the hands of low-born traders, who every year were coming more to the

front and monopolising influence at home and abroad at the cost of their

neighbours and rivals with longer pedigrees and shorter purses. In

_Paradiso_ xvi. Dante dwells at length on the degeneracy of the

Florentines.

[489] _At other times_: It is hinted that his outspokenness will not in

the future always give equal satisfaction to those who hear.

[490] _There was I, etc._: _Forsan et hæc olim meminisse

juvabit._--_Æn._ i. 203.

[491] _Acquacheta_: The fall of the water of the brook over the lofty

cliff that sinks from the Seventh to the Eighth Circle is compared to

the waterfall upon the Montone at the monastery of St. Benedict, in the

mountains above Forlì. The Po rises in Monte Viso. Dante here travels in

imagination from Monte Viso down through Italy, and finds that all the

rivers which rise on the left hand, that is, on the north-east of the

Apennine, fall into the Po, till the Montone is reached, that river

falling into the Adriatic by a course of its own. Above Forlì it was

called Acquacheta. The Lamone, north of the Montone, now follows an

independent course to the sea, having cut a new bed for itself since

Dante's time.

[492] _Where for a thousand, etc._: In the monastery there was room for

many more monks, say most of the commentators; or something to the like

effect. Mr. Longfellow's interpretation seems better: Where the height

of the fall is so great that it would divide into a thousand falls.

[493] _Toward the right_: The attitude of one about to throw.

[494] _The cord_: The services of Geryon are wanted to convey them down

the next reach of the pit; and as no voice could be heard for the noise

of the waterfall, and no signal be made to catch the eye amid the gloom,

Virgil is obliged to call the attention of the monster by casting some

object into the depth where he lies concealed. But, since they are

surrounded by solid masonry and slack sand, one or other of them must

supply something fit to throw down; and the cord worn by Dante is fixed

on as what can best be done without. There may be a reference to the

cord of Saint Francis, which Dante, according to one of his

commentators, wore when he was a young man, following in this a fashion

common enough among pious laymen who had no thought of ever becoming

friars. But the simile of the cord, as representing sobriety and

virtuous purpose, is not strange to Dante. In _Purg._ vii. 114 he

describes Pedro of Arragon as being girt with the cord of every virtue;

and Pedro was no Franciscan. Dante's cord may therefore be taken as

standing for vigilance or self-control. With it he had hoped to get the

better of the leopard (_Inf._ i. 32), and may have trusted in it for

support as against the terrors of Inferno. But although he has been girt

with it ever since he entered by the gate, it has not saved him from a

single fear, far less from a single danger; and now it is cast away as

useless. Henceforth, more than ever, he is to confide wholly in Virgil

and have no confidence in himself. Nor is he to be girt again till he

reaches the coast of Purgatory, and then it is to be with a reed, the

emblem of humility.--But, however explained, the incident will always be

somewhat of a puzzle.

[495] Dante attributes to Virgil full knowledge of all that is in his

own mind. He thus heightens our conception of his dependence on his

guide, with whose will his will is blent, and whose thoughts are always

found to be anticipating his own. Few readers will care to be constantly

recalling to mind that Virgil represents enlightened human reason. But

even if we confine ourselves to the easiest sense of the narrative, the

study of the relations between him and Dante will be found one of the

most interesting suggested by the poem--perhaps only less so than that

of Dante's moods of wonder, anger, and pity.

The Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri: The Inferno · 第 16 / 34 章