41. Bonturo: Bonturo Dati, a politician of Lucca. The phrase is ironic: Bonturo was the most avid grafter of them all.
51. Sacred Face: Il volto santo was an ancient wooden image of Christ venerated by the Luccanese. These ironies and the grotesqueness of the Elder’s appearance mark the beginning of the gargoyle dance that swells and rolls through this Canto and the next.
52. Serchio: A river near Lucca.
61. You had best not be seen: It is only in the passage through this Bolgia, out of the total journey, that Dante presents himself as being in physical danger. Since his dismissal from office and his exile from Florence (on pain of death if he return) was based on a false charge of grafting, the reference is pointedly autobiographical. Such an autobiographical interpretation is certainly consistent with the method of Dante’s allegory.
79. Malacoda: The name equals “Bad Tail,” or “Evil Tail.” He is the captain of these grim and semi-military police. I have not translated his name as I have those of the other fiends, since I cannot see that it offers any real difficulty to an English reader.
97-99. Pisan infantry . . . Caprona, etc.: A Tuscan army attacked the fortress of Caprona near Pisa in 1289 and after fierce fighting the Pisan defenders were promised a safe-conduct if they would surrender. Dante was probably serving with the Tuscans (the opening lines of the next Canto certainly suggest that he had seen military service). In some accounts it is reported that the Tuscans massacred the Pisans despite their promised safe-conduct—an ominous analogy if true. In any case the emerging Pisans would be sufficiently familiar with the treacheries of Italian politics to feel profoundly uneasy at being surrounded by their enemies under such conditions.
110-11. If you must go on, etc.: Malacoda is lying, as the Poets will discover: all the bridges across the Sixth Bolgia have fallen as a result of the earthquake that shook Hell at the death of Christ. The great rock fall between the Sixth and Seventh Circle (see Canto XI) was caused by the same shock, as was the ruin at the entrance to the Second Circle (see Canto V).
112-14. in just five hours . . . a thousand two hundred and sixty six years and a day: Christ died on Good Friday of the year 34, and it is now Holy Saturday of the year 1300, five hours before the hour of his death. Many commentators (and Dante himself in the Convivio) place the hours of Christ’s death at exactly noon. Accordingly, it would now be 7:00 A.M. of Holy Saturday—exactly eight minutes since the Poets left the bridge over the Fourth Bolgia (at moonset).
In the gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke, however, the hour of Christ’s death is precisely stated as 3:00 P.M. Dante would certainly be familiar with the Synoptic Gospels, and on that authority it would now be 10:00 A.M.
As far as the action of the poem is concerned the only question of consequence is the time-lapse from the bridge over the Fourth Bolgia to the talk with Malacoda, a matter of eight minutes or of three hours and eight minutes. One certainly seems too short, the other needlessly long, and while either answer can be supported with good arguments, this may be another case of literal worrying of “poetic” accuracy.
138-40. tongues . . . trumpet: The fiends obviously constitute a kind of debased military organization and these grotesqueries are their sign and countersign. Dante, himself, in his present satyr-like humor, finds them quite remarkable signals, as he goes on to note in the next Canto.
Canto XXII
CIRCLE EIGHT: BOLGIA FIVE
The Grafters
The Poets set off with their escorts of demons. Dante sees the GRAFTERS lying in the pitch like frogs in water with only their muzzles out. They disappear as soon as they sight the demons and only a ripple on the surface betrays their presence.
One of the Grafters, AN UNIDENTIFIED NAVARRESE, ducks too late and is seized by the demons who are about to claw him, but CURLYBEARD holds them back while Virgil questions him. The wretch speaks of his fellow sinners, FRIAR GOMITA and MICHEL ZANCHE, while the uncontrollable demons rake him from time to time with their hooks.
The Navarrese offers to lure some of his fellow sufferers into the hands of the demons, and when his plan is accepted he plunges into the pitch and escapes. HELLKEN and GRIZZLY fly after him, but too late. They start a brawl in mid-air and fall into the pitch themselves. Curlybeard immediately organizes a rescue party and the Poets, fearing the bad temper of the frustrated demons, take advantage of the confusion to slip away.
I have seen horsemen breaking camp. I have seen
the beginning of the assault, the march and muster,
and at times the retreat and riot. I have been
where chargers trampled your land, O Aretines!
I have seen columns of foragers, shocks of tourney,
and running of tilts. I have seen the endless lines
march to bells, drums, trumpets, from far and near.
I have seen them march on signals from a castle.
I have seen them march with native and foreign gear.
But never yet have I seen horse or foot,
nor ship in range of land nor sight of star,
take its direction from so low a toot.
We went with the ten Fiends—ah, savage crew!—
but “In church with saints; with stewpots in the tavern,”
as the old proverb wisely bids us do.
All my attention was fixed upon the pitch:
to observe the people who were boiling in it,
and the customs and the punishments of that ditch.
As dolphins surface and begin to flip
their arched backs from the sea, warning the sailors
to fall-to and begin to secure ship—
So now and then, some soul, to ease his pain,
showed us a glimpse of his back above the pitch
and quick as lightning disappeared again.
And as, at the edge of a ditch, frogs squat about
hiding their feet and bodies in the water,
leaving only their muzzles sticking out—
so stood the sinners in that dismal ditch;
but as Curlybeard approached, only a ripple
showed where they had ducked back into the pitch.
I saw—the dread of it haunts me to this day—
one linger a bit too long, as it sometimes happens
one frog remains when another spurts away;
and Catclaw, who was nearest, ran a hook
through the sinner’s pitchy hair and hauled him in.
He looked like an otter dripping from the brook.
I knew the names of all the Fiends by then;
I had made a note of them at the first muster,
and, marching, had listened and checked them over again.
“Hey, Crazyred,” the crew of Demons cried
all together, “give him a taste of your claws.
Dig him open a little. Off with his hide.”
And I then: “Master, can you find out, please,
the name and history of that luckless one
who has fallen into the hands of his enemies?”
My Guide approached that wraith from the hot tar
and asked him whence he came. The wretch replied:
“I was born and raised in the Kingdom of Navarre.
My mother placed me in service to a knight;
for she had borne me to a squanderer
who killed himself when he ran through his birthright.
Then I became a domestic in the service
of good King Thibault. There I began to graft,
and I account for it in this hot crevice.”
And Pigtusk, who at the ends of his lower lip
shot forth two teeth more terrible than a boar’s,
made the wretch feel how one of them could rip.
The mouse had come among bad cats, but here
Curlybeard locked arms around him crying:
“While I’ve got hold of him the rest stand clear!”
And turning his face to my Guide: “If you want to ask him
&nbs
p; anything else,” he added, “ask away
before the others tear him limb from limb.”
And my Guide to the sinner: “I should like to know
if among the other souls beneath the pitch
are any Italians?” And the wretch: “Just now
I left a shade who came from parts near by.
Would I were still in the pitch with him, for then
these hooks would not be giving me cause to cry.”
And suddenly Grafter bellowed in great heat:
“We’ve stood enough!” And he hooked the sinner’s arm
and, raking it, ripped off a chunk of meat.
Then Dragontooth wanted to play, too, reaching down
for a catch at the sinner’s legs; but Curlybeard
wheeled round and round with a terrifying frown,
and when the Fiends had somewhat given ground
and calmed a little, my Guide, without delay,
asked the wretch, who was staring at his wound:
“Who was the sinner from whom you say you made
your evil-starred departure to come ashore
among these Fiends?” And the wretch: “It was the
shade
of Friar Gomita of Gallura, the crooked stem
of every Fraud: when his master’s enemies
were in his hands, he won high praise from them.
He took their money without case or docket,
and let them go. He was in all his dealings
no petty bursar, but a kingly pocket.
With him, his endless crony in the fosse,
is Don Michel Zanche of Logodoro;
they babble about Sardinia without pause.
But look! See that fiend grinning at your side!
There is much more that I should like to tell you,
but oh, I think he means to grate my hide!”
But their grim sergeant wheeled, sensing foul play,
and turning on Cramper, who seemed set to strike,
ordered: “Clear off, you buzzard. Clear off, I say!”
“If either of you would like to see and hear
Tuscans or Lombards,” the pale sinner said,
“I can lure them out of hiding if you’ll stand clear
and let me sit here at the edge of the ditch,
and get all these Blacktalons out of sight;
for while they’re here, no one will leave the pitch.
In exchange for myself, I can fish you up as pretty
a mess of souls as you like. I have only to whistle
the way we do when one of us gets free.”
Deaddog raised his snout as he listened to him;
then, shaking his head, said, “Listen to the grafter
spinning his tricks so he can jump from the brim!”
And the sticky wretch, who was all treachery:
“Oh I am more than tricky when there’s a chance
to see my friends in greater misery.”
Hellken, against the will of all the crew,
could hold no longer. “If you jump,” he said
to the scheming wretch, “I won’t come after you
at a gallop, but like a hawk after a mouse.
We’ll clear the edge and hide behind the bank:
let’s see if you’re trickster enough for all of us.”
Reader, here is new game! The Fiends withdrew
from the bank’s edge, and Deaddog, who at first
was most against it, led the savage crew.
The Navarrese chose his moment carefully:
and planting both his feet against the ground,
he leaped, and in an instant he was free.
The Fiends were stung with shame, and of the lot
Hellken most, who had been the cause of it.
He leaped out madly bellowing: “You’re caught!”
but little good it did him; terror pressed
harder than wings; the sinner dove from sight
and the Fiend in full flight had to raise his breast.
A duck, when the falcon dives, will disappear
exactly so, all in a flash, while he
returns defeated and weary up the air.
Grizzly, in a rage at the sinner’s flight,
flew after Hellken, hoping the wraith would escape,
so he might find an excuse to start a fight.
And as soon as the grafter sank below the pitch,
Grizzly turned his talons against Hellken,
locked with him claw to claw above the ditch.
But Hellken was sparrowhawk enough for two
and clawed him well; and ripping one another,
they plunged together into the hot stew.
The heat broke up the brawl immediately,
but their wings were smeared with pitch and
they could not rise.
Curlybeard, upset as his company,
commanded four to fly to the other coast
at once with all their grapples. At top speed
the Fiends divided, each one to his post.
Some on the near edge, some along the far,
they stretched their hooks out to the clotted pair
who were already cooked deep through the scar
of their first burn. And turning to one side
we slipped off, leaving them thus occupied.
NOTES
4. Aretines: The people of Arezzo. In 1289 the Guelphs of Florence and Lucca defeated the Ghibellines of Arezzo at Campaldino. Dante was present with the Guelphs, though probably as an observer and not as a warrior.
5-6. tourney . . . tilts: A tourney was contested by groups of knights in a field; a tilt by individuals who tried to unhorse one another across a barrier.
7. bells: The army of each town was equipped with a chariot on which bells were mounted. Signals could be given by the bells and special decorations made the chariot stand out in battle. It served therefore as a rallying point.
8. signals from a castle: When troops were in sight of their castle their movements could be directed from the towers—by banners in daytime and by fires at night, much as some naval signals are still given today.
19-21. dolphins, etc.: It was a common belief that when dolphins began to leap around a ship they were warning the sailors of an approaching storm.
31 ff. THE NAVARRESE GRAFTER. His own speech tells all that is known about him. The recital could serve as a description of many a courtier. Thibault II was King of Navarre, a realm that lay in what is now northern Spain.
54. and I account: Dante’s irony is certainly intentional: the accounts of the Grafters can not be concealed from God’s Justice.
66. Italians: Dante uses the term Latino, strictly speaking, a person from the area of ancient Latium, now (roughly) Lazio, the province in which Rome is located. It was against the Latians that Aeneas fought on coming to Italy. More generally, Dante uses the term for any southern Italian. Here, however, the usage seems precise, since the sinner refers to “points near by” and means Sardinia. Rome is the point in Italy closest to Sardinia.
82. Friar Gomita of Gallura (GHAW-mee-ta): In 1300 Sardinia was a Pisan possession, and was divided into four districts, of which Gallura was the northeast. Friar Gomita administered Gallura for his own considerable profit. He was hanged by the Pisan governor when he was found guilty of taking bribes to let prisoners escape.
89. Michel Zanche de Logodoro (Mee-KELL ZAHN-keh): He was made Vicar of Logodoro when the King of Sardinia went off to war. The King was captured and did not return. Michel maneuvered a divorce for the Queen and married her himself. About 1290 he was murdered by his son-in-law, Branca d’Oria (see Canto XXXIII).
Canto XXIII
CIRCLE EIGHT: BOLGIA SIX
The Hypocrites
The Poets are pursued by the Fiends and escape them by sliding down the sloping bank of the next pit. They are now in the SIXTH BOLGIA. Here the HYPOCRITES, weighted down by great leaden robes, walk eternally round and ro
und a narrow track. The robes are brilliantly gilded on the outside and are shaped like a monk’s habit, for the hypocrite’s outward appearance shines brightly and passes for holiness, but under that show lies the terrible weight of his deceit which the soul must bear through all eternity.
The Poets talk to TWO JOVIAL FRIARS and come upon CAIAPHAS, the chief sinner of that place. Caiaphas was the High Priest of the Jews who counseled the Pharisees to crucify Jesus in the name of public expedience. He is punished by being himself crucified to the floor of Hell by three great stakes, and in such a position that every passing sinner must walk upon him. Thus he must suffer upon his own body the weight of all the world’s hypocrisy, as Christ suffered upon his body the pain of all the world’s sins.
The Divine Comedy Page 22