The Divine Comedy

by Dante Alighieri

in, say, a thousand years, more reputation

  than if you went from child’s play to the grave?

  What, to eternity, is a thousand years?

  Not so much as the blinking of an eye

  to the turning of the slowest of the spheres.

  All Tuscany once sounded with the fame

  of this one who goes hobbling on before me;

  now, one hears scarce a whisper of his name,

  even in Siena, where he was in power

  when he destroyed the rage of Florence (then,

  as much a shrew as she is, now, a whore).

  The fame of man is like the green of grass:

  it comes, it goes; and He by whom it springs

  bright from earth’s plenty makes it fade and pass.”

  And I to him: “These truths bend my soul low

  from swollen pride to sweet humility.

  But who is he of whom you spoke just now?”

  “That’s Provenzan Salvani, and the stone

  is on him,” he replied, “for his presumption

  in making all Siena his alone.

  So he goes on and has gone since his death,

  without a pause. Such coin must one pay here

  for being too presumptuous on earth.”

  And I: “But if the souls that do not mend

  their sinful ways until the brink of life,

  must wait below before they can ascend

  (unless the prayers of those whom God holds dear

  come to their aid) the period of their lives—

  how was he given license to be here?”

  “At the peak of his life’s glory,” said the ghost,

  “in the Campo of Siena, willingly,

  and putting by all pride, he took his post;

  and there, to free his dear friend from the pains

  he suffered in the dungeons of King Charles,

  stood firm, although he trembled in his veins.

  I say no more; and though you well may feel

  I speak in riddles, it will not be long

  before your neighbors’ actions will reveal

  all you need know to fathom what I say.

  —It was this good work spared him his delay.”

  NOTES

  1-24. THE PRAYER OF THE PROUD. The sinners on each cornice of Purgatory recite a prayer appropriate to their particular penance. The prayer spoken by the souls under the stones is, of course, an extended form of the Lord’s Prayer, and Dante’s choice of it must be understood by its relevance to the sin of Pride.

  The Lord’s Prayer is so basic to Christian practice, and so much the possession of every Christian child, that its very nature as a primer of the creed must explain its first relevance here. If Pride is seen as a blind and arrogant assertion of secondary things (self, power, family name, talent, etc.), it follows that such a wrong emphasis on what is secondary can only be arrived at by ignoring what is primary. It is in these terms, I believe, that Dante’s intent can be best grasped. The proud must begin over again as children, learning the first expression of the first principles of faith. It is exactly relevant that the first child’s prayer is also the most central to Christian belief. Note, moreover, that every petition of the prayer is for the grace of humility and subservience to God’s will, and that the last petition is for the good of others.

  1-3. Our Father . . . not by Heaven bounded: God lives in Heaven by choice, not in confinement. He is drawn to Heaven by the greater love (greater than His love for man) he bears his first works (the Angels) in His first realm (Heaven).

  6. Thy quickening breath: The breath of life.

  21. but deliver us from him: In the original form, the Lord’s Prayer reads, “Deliver us from the Evil One.”

  22-24. This last petition: The last petition is for deliverance from the Evil One. It is obviously not needed by the souls in Purgatory proper, since they are no longer subject to temptation, but is offered up (a happy instance of concern for others) for the souls of those left behind on earth, and perhaps also in Ante-Purgatory.

  25. us: Refers not to the Poets but to all mankind.

  28. unequally tormented: As Dante has already indicated (X, 134-135) the burdens of the sinners varied according to the degree of their sin.

  30. the world’s foul sediment: The traces of pride and worldliness surviving in each soul.

  33. by those . . . God’s love: No other prayer helps. Cf. Belacqua, IV, 130-135.

  43. for my companion, who is burdened still: Virgil’s famous tact hardly shines brilliantly in begging these souls, bowed as they are under their enormous loads, to help Dante so heavily burdened with his own flesh.

  47. could not tell which of those souls had spoken: It must be remembered that Dante and Virgil are standing above the souls, who are bent to the ground under slabs of stone that must, in some cases at least, completely hide them from sight.

  53. stiff neck: A recurring Biblical figure for pride and obstinacy. Cf. Acts, vii, 51: “Ye stiffnecked and uncircumcised in heart and ears.” (An interesting piece of language.) See also Exodus, xxxii, 9, and xxxiii, 3, 5.

  58-72. THE ALDOBRANDESCHI. Guglielmo Aldobrandesco (Gool-YELL-mo Ahl-doe-brahnd-ESS-coe) was a powerful Ghibelline of the Sienese Maremma, and Count of Santafiora, the district Dante has already cited as a lawless robber-barony. Little is known of Omberto, and such accounts as there are contradict one another, though all agree that he was excessively proud of his lineage. The Aldobrandeschi were in constant conflict with Siena. In 1259, according to varying accounts, the Sienese either besieged the Aldobrandeschi castle in Campagnatico (Cahm-pahn-YAH-tee-coe), killing Omberto in battle, or their agents crept in and strangled Omberto in bed. Since Dante refers to it (line 66) as an event known to every child, he was probably following the account in which Omberto, though with very few men at his disposal, scorned his enemies, refused to surrender, killed many Sienese, and even made a mad charge into the thick of the enemy’s forces, where he was killed after giving a bloody account of himself. Omberto’s words seem to indicate that his main motive in this action was utter contempt for those who opposed him. Thus (lines 64-65) his scorn was so great that he died for it.

  Omberto’s death broke the power of the Aldobrandeschi, their rule passing to the Sienese. Thus (lines 67-69) his pride destroyed not only Omberto but all of his line and its adherents.

  60. I do not know if you have heard the name: One of those Dantean touches that must not be missed. As Omberto goes on to say, he was, while alive, overweeningly proud of his father’s fame. The proud mention of him may, thus, be taken as a relapse into his besetting sin. He immediately covers it with a deliberate act of modesty, as if to say, “You probably never heard of him.” The fact is that everyone in Italy would have known of Guglielmo Aldobrandesco.

  73. I had bowed low, better to know his state: I think Dante intends an ambiguity here. He had bowed low physically better to hear Omberto, and he had bowed low in the spirit of humility better to experience the state of those who purify themselves of pride by making themselves humble. Line 78 reinforces this second meaning.

  79. Od’risi: Oderisi d’Agobbio. Agobbio or Gubbio is a small city in Umbria, and was known to the Romans as Eugubium. Oderisi was a famous illuminator of manuscripts and a miniaturist. He is reputed to have illuminated many Vatican manuscripts on Papal commission. He probably died in Rome in 1299, though the record is not certain.

  As Omberto typifies pride of lineage, Oderisi typifies the pride of the artist avid for reputation. Dante’s praise of him may be a test to see how a Proud-one so recently dead (within the year) would respond.

  83. Franco Bolognese (Bo-lo-NYEA-zeh): Oderisi’s student. He was alive in 1300 (hence the “now” of line 84). A few mentions of his name and some disputed traces of his work still exist, but the words Dante puts into Oderisi’s mouth will have to explain themselves, there being no other record.

  Note especially that Dante cites little-known artists working in what is generally
considered to be a minor art. He could, of course, have demonstrated artistic pride in artists of much greater stature, but his point is certainly the more strongly made when he presents great pride swelling in little men.

  86-87. I never would have granted him first place: Oderisi may mean that in his lifetime he so desired to excel that he would have labored for greater mastery and so have wrested first place from his student. In context, however, the far more likely meaning is that he was then too proud to admit what he now, in his new-found humility, well knows.

  88-90. Nor would I have been among these souls: Oderisi would still have been in Ante-Purgatory enduring his delay had he waited for a deathbed repentance. while I still had in me the power to sin: While I was yet alive.

  91-93. The difficulty of Dante’s condensed way of speaking is here compounded by his easy way with mixed metaphors. Sense: “O talented men [of arts, crafts, government, and every human attainment], what a vanity it is to seek to be known as foremost in your field! How short a while the laurel crown stays green, unless the age that succeeds you is graceless [i.e., lacks the talent to produce rivals who will excel you].”

  94. Cimabue: Giovanni dei Cimabui (Joe-VAH-nee day Tcheem-ah-BOO-ee), 1240?-1308. He was esteemed by his Florentine contemporaries as the master painter. His particular innovation was in liberating painting from strict Byzantine domination in favor of a more natural style. If he is no longer hailed as a supreme master, succeeding ages have generally been aware of his genius.

  95. Giotto (DJAW-toe): A shepherd boy who became Cimabue’s pupil and who went on to excel his teacher, becoming the true father of the Renaissance tradition of painting from nature. He was probably a friend of Dante’s. The most familiar portrait of Dante is one commonly, but uncertainly, attributed to Giotto.

  97-99. THE TWO GUIDOS. The first is Guido (GWEE-doe) Cavalcanti (1250?-1300), a fellow poet whom Dante saluted in the Vita Nuova as “he whom I call first among my friends.” (See also Inferno, X, 52 ff. for a different feeling toward him.) The other Guido, whose poetic glory was shorn by Cavalcanti, is generally taken to be Guido Guinizelli (Gwee-nee-TZELL-ee) of Bologna (died approx. 1275-1276).

  Dante may mean himself by “the man who will un-nest them both,” or he may be making a general statement. Good arguments can support either interpretation. If it is argued that Dante, his head bowed in humility and observing the terrible penance of the proud, would not be praising himself, it can as forcibly be shown that Dante has already (Inferno, X, 52 ff.) asserted his poetical supremacy to Guido, ascribing it modestly to the fact that Guido did not give his whole devotion to the high models Dante took for his own.

  108. the turning of the slowest of the spheres: The Ptolemaic cosmography attributed to the Sphere of the Fixed Stars a west-to-east rotation of 1 degree per 100 years, hence 36,000 years for one revolution. (See Il Convivio, II, 6, lines 140-143.)

  110. this one: Provenzano Salvani, the Ghibelline chief of Siena at the battle of Montaperti (see Inferno, X, 85-87, 91-93, and note to 32-51). After the defeat of the Florentine forces, he led the cry for the destruction of Florence. In 1269 the Florentines defeated the Sienese at Colle di Val d’Elsa, and Salvani, taken prisoner, was beheaded on the field of battle.

  116. He: God is constantly identified with the Sun in Dante. Here the identification is especially apt.

  127-132. But . . . how was he given license to be here?: Salvani died, as noted, in 1269. He has, therefore, been dead thirty-one years. Dante assumes that he put off repentance till the end. Normally, therefore, he would have had to wait in Ante-Purgatory for a period equal to his lifetime, and though his exact age at death is not known, his normal delay would still have years to run. Dante asks the cause of this exception and Oderisi tells of an incident of great self-abasement that won special grace for Salvani. See below.

  133-138. The incident here referred to is variously told, but the gist of it remains the same in all accounts. A friend of Salvani’s was captured, probably by Charles of Anjou at Tagliacozza, and held for a great ransom to be paid within a month, failing which the friend would be executed. Salvani, despite his great pride, posted himself in the Piazza del Campo in Siena and begged alms to raise his friend’s ransom. Whether beggars do especially well in Siena, or whether Salvani’s action was the sort of thing we now call a “promotional campaign,” the sum was made up and the friend freed.

  Note how the law is still, as in Hell, an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, but now in reverse: as ye merited, so shall ye be rewarded—with the additional boons that may be procured by the prayers of the pure in heart.

  139-142. I say no more: Still another of the dark prophecies of impending exile Dante hears throughout his journey. (His “neighbors” are, of course, the Florentines. Their “actions” will be to exile him, thus forcing him to beg as did Salvani. Then only will he understand what it means to tremble in his veins.) Dante left Florence in 1301 and a decree of banishment was read against him in 1302. He never returned.

  It is especially appropriate that Dante should be reminded of his banishment to beggary at just this point. Dante, as he makes clear later, was especially concerned about Pride as his own besetting sin. The reminder of his banishment serves aptly to humble him.

  Canto XII

  THE FIRST CORNICE

  The Proud

  The Rein of Pride The Angel of Humility

  VIRGIL instructs Dante to arise from where he has been walking bent beside Oderisi and to move on. Dante follows obediently, and soon Virgil points out to him THE REIN OF PRIDE carved in thirteen scenes into the stone beneath their feet. The scenes portray dreadful examples of the destruction that follows upon great pride.

  The Poets pass on and find THE ANGEL OF HUMILITY approaching to welcome them. The Angel strikes Dante’s forehead with his wings and, though Dante does not discover it till later, THE FIRST P instantly disappears without a trace, symbolizing the purification from the sin of Pride. The Poets pass on, up a narrow ASCENT TO THE SECOND CORNICE, but though the way is narrow, Dante finds it much easier than the first, since steps have been cut into it, and since he is lighter by the weight of the first P. As they climb they hear the first beatitude, Beati pauperes spiritu, ring out behind them, sung by the Angel of Humility.

  As oxen go in yoke—step matched, head bowed—

  I moved along beside that laden soul

  as long as the sweet pedagogue allowed.

  But when he said: “Leave him his weary trail:

  here each must speed his boat as best he can

  urging it onward with both oars and sail”—

  I drew myself again to the position

  required for walking: thus my body rose,

  but my thoughts were still bent double in contrition.

  I was following my Guide, and we had put

  those laden souls behind us far enough

  to make it clear that we were light of foot,

  when he said, without turning back his head:

  “Look down. You will find solace on the way

  in studying what pavement your feet tread.”

  In order that some memory survive

  of those who die, their slabs are often carved

  to show us how they looked while yet alive.

  And often at the sight a thought will stir

  the passer-by to weep for what has been—

  though only the compassionate feel that spur.

  Just so, but with a far more lifelike grace—

  they being divinely wrought—stone figures covered

  the track that jutted from the mountain’s face.

  Mark there, on one side, him who had been given

  a nobler form than any other creature.

  He plunged like lightning from the peak of Heaven.

  Mark, on the other, lying on the earth,

  stricken by the celestial thunderbolt,

  Briareus, heavy with the chill of death.

  Mark there, still armed, ranged at t
heir father’s side,

  Thymbraeus, Mars, and Pallas looking down

  at the Giants’ severed limbs strewn far and wide.

  Mark Nimrod at the foot of his great tower,

  bemused, confounded, staring at his people

  who shared at Shinar his mad dream of power.

  Ah, Niobe! with what eyes wrung with pain

  I saw your likeness sculptured on that road

  between your seven and seven children slain!

  Ah, Saul! how still you seemed to me, run through

  with your own sword, dead upon Mount Gilboa,