The Inferno

by Dante

  95. Dante was present at the successful siege of Caprona in 1289, a cavalryman observing the success of the mission of his Tuscan Guelphs against this Pisan stronghold. It is to his lasting credit that what he remembers for us is how the victims must have felt when they came out under a pact of safe conduct. Dante, exiled on the charge of barratry by his fellow citizens, here perhaps means to remind them that he had borne arms on behalf of the republic in its victories, the siege of Caprona in August 1289 and the previous great victory at Campaldino that June, referred to later in this scene (XXII.4–5). He was not a grafter, scheming in the dark, but a cavalryman who did his deeds in the fearsome clarity of war. There have been several attempts in the last two centuries to relate the scenes and personages of these cantos of barratry to Dante’s own experiences as accused barrator perfidiously sent into exile on this pretext (and thus presented as attacked by the twelve priors of Florence, the Malebranche), and to his military experiences, offered as vindication against such malicious and untrue charges. For cautionary remarks, urging restraint in such interpretation, see Conrieri (Conr.1981.1), pp. 38–39. [return to English / Italian]

  100–105. Dante’s fears are justified; only Malacoda’s intervention prevents the bullying devils from assaulting him with their hooks. Malacoda holds back Scarmiglione, encouraging him to await a more propitious moment for his attack. Scarmiglione is the first of the twelve devils to be named. He is apparently not included in the squad of ten put under Barbariccia’s control—see note to vv. 118–123. [return to English / Italian]

  106–111. Malacoda’s partial truth (the sixth bridge, over the bolgia of hypocrisy, is in ruins) is quickly joined to a total fabrication (the next bridge along their route is intact). All the bridges are down, as Virgil will be told by Fra Catalano in Canto XXIII.133–138. [return to English / Italian]

  112–114. This extraordinarily precise time reference is the most certain text in the poem for establishing an external date for the journey. It is 7 AM of Holy Saturday, since Christ, according to Dante (Conv. IV.xxiii.10), died at noon. In fact, Dante here is modifying the facts, if on the authority of Luke 23:44, who gives the time of the preternatural darkness as noon. Even Luke, however, is clear that Jesus died at 3 PM. Dante is willing to rewrite any text to suit his purpose.

  From this passage we learn that the events narrated in this poem occurred in Easter week of 1300. However, and as we have seen, Dante seems to be conflating two dates for the start of the journey, each of which is propitious, 25 March and 8 April (the actual date of Good Friday in 1300) in order to gain the maximum significant referentiality. See note to Inf. I.1. [return to English / Italian]

  115–117. Malacoda lies yet again, promising safe conduct. Once again Virgil is trusting, Dante not. [return to English / Italian]

  118–123. Dante’s pleasure in developing nomi parlanti (names that bespeak the quality of their possessors) is evident here. His playful naming is based on the aggressive bestial characteristics of these creatures.

  Dante’s thoroughness and care in his handling of the demons’ names is underlined by the fact that each of the ten members of the decina (from decuria, the Latin military term for a “squad” of ten troopers) is named exactly once in the following canto, as follows (with Sinclair’s [Sinc.1939.1, p. 279] English approximations of some of these names in parentheses): Barbariccia (Curlybeard—XXII.29), Graffiacane (Scratchdog—34), Rubicante (Redface—40), Cirïatto (Swineface—55), Libicocco (70), Draghignazzo (Vile Dragon—73), Farfarello (94), Cagnazzo (Low Hound—106), Alichino (112), and Calcabrina (133). [return to English / Italian]

  125–126. Malacoda lies again: the devils understand that they are to take Dante and Virgil by surprise, attacking Dante later on. [return to English / Italian]

  127–132. Dante’s pleas to Virgil will fall on deaf ears, but we sense already (and will shortly have confirmed) that he, not his guide, understands what the devils are up to. [return to English / Italian]

  133–135. Virgil’s response to Dante’s question, based on correct observation and resultant correct interpretation of the devils’ true motives, marks yet another moment in this canto in which the reader is nearly forced to observe how harshly the guide is being treated by the author. In recent years there has been an increasing acknowledgment of what should have been clear to any reader who is willing to give over the notion that the Comedy is essentially an “allegorical” poem in which the character Virgil represents “Reason.” See, among others, Bacchelli (Bacc.1954.1), Ryan.1982.2, Holl.1984.3. [return to English / Italian]

  136–139. The devils either prepare to make or have already made a farting sound with their tongues stuck through their teeth in answer to Malacoda’s prior “war-signal” of a fart. See Sarolli’s appreciation of this low-mimetic scene as part of the tradition of musica diaboli, the hellish music that stands in total contrast with the heavenly music we shall hear in Paradiso (Saro.1971.1, pp. 5n., 363–80). The perverse devils turn their mouths into anuses in preparing to answer Malacoda’s (and he is surely aptly named in light of this sound) turning his anus into a bugle, the gestures constituting a sign of “understanding among the malefactors and a sign of their derision for Virgil’s self-confident misreading of their intentions” (Holl.1984.3, p. 90). [return to English / Italian]

  INFERNO XXII

  1–12. The similetic array of signals for troop movements in battle or for the start of a sporting event, a small catalogue of things and techniques domestic and foreign, is, we remember, the poet’s way of responding to the demonic fart that concluded the last canto and ushered Dante off on his journey under the guidance of the decuria, Malacoda’s squad, now under the control of Barbariccia. Vv. 4–5 are generally taken to refer to the battle of Campaldino in 1289.

  This, even if it is not a “true simile,” is the first of eleven canto-opening similes in the poem. See Inferno XXIV.1–18; XXX.1–27; XXXI.1–6; Purgatorio VI.1–12; XVII.1–12; Paradiso IV.1–9; XVII.1–6; XXIII.1–12; XXIX.1–9; XXXI.1–15. [return to English / Italian]

  13–15. Professor Kevin Brownlee, in a seminar at Dartmouth College in 1985, suggested that these verses and the atmosphere of the entire scene in XXI and XXII reflect some earmarks of the French fabliau: physical violence, proverbial remarks, animalistic traits, physically stronger characters being bested by cleverer weak ones. For the farcical elements in these cantos see Spitzer (Spit.1942.1 and Spit.1944.1). [return to English / Italian]

  19–30. The two similes describe the actions of the barrators in motion and at rest. They only move to relieve their pain for a moment or to duck under the pitch (thus increasing their pain) in order to avoid a hooking by the devils—a pain still more disturbing, as well as embarrassing.

  It was apparently a current belief that dolphins approached ships when they sensed that a storm at sea was brewing. [return to English / Italian]

  37–39. Dante claims to remember the names as they were called out by Malacoda (Inf. XXI.118–123) and then repeated by various of the demons in the course of the action. [return to English / Italian]

  48–54. “Ciampolo, name given by the commentators to a native of Navarre, who … describes himself as a retainer of King Thibault II of Navarre [1253–70], in whose service he practiced [barratry]” (T). About Ciampolo (for “Gian Paolo,” pronounced “Giampolo”) we know nothing except what is furnished by the early commentators. [return to English / Italian]

  59–60. Barbariccia, as leader of the troupe, intervenes to allow Virgil the opportunity for further questions. Cirïatto had gored Ciampolo as he dangled from the end of Graffiacane’s hook (vv. 55–57). Now Barbariccia extends his long arms around the place where the pitchy sinner stands to ward the others off: he wants Ciampolo for himself. (This view and our translation respect the readings of the details of this passage and of v. 123 in the Bosco/Reggio commentary.) [return to English / Italian]

  64–66. Virgil wants to know, on behalf of Dante, whether there are other Italians in the pitch. The
word latino, while it may of course mean “Latin,” more frequently in Dante means “Italian,” as in Conv. IV.xxviii.8, where Guido da Montefeltro is referred to as “lo nobilissimo nostro latino” (the most noble of us Italians). See also Purg. XI.58 and Purg. XIII.92. [return to English / Italian]

  67. Ciampolo says that he has come from one who hails from a place near Italy; as we shall learn (v. 82), he speaks of Sardinia. [return to English / Italian]

  70–75. Two devils can barely be restrained; indeed, before Barbariccia once again asserts his authority, allowing Virgil yet another question, Libicocco succeeds in giving Ciampolo a second wound (see vv. 55–57 for Cirïatto’s earlier thrust into his flesh). [return to English / Italian]

  81–87. “Frate Gomita, Sardinian friar who, having been appointed [ca. 1294] chancellor or deputy of Nino Visconti of Pisa, judge of Gallura, abused his position to traffic in the sale of public offices. Nino turned a deaf ear to all complaints against him until he discovered that the friar had connived at the escape of certain prisoners who were in his keeping, whereupon Nino had him hanged forthwith” (T). For Nino see note to Inf. XXXIII.1–3. [return to English / Italian]

  88. “Michael Zanche, Governor of Logodoro in Sardinia; he seems to have acted as intendant for Enzio, natural son of the Emperor Frederick II, who received the title of King of Sardinia on his marriage with Adelasia di Torres, heiress of Logodoro and Gallura; after Adelasia’s divorce from Enzio, Michael married her, and assumed the government of the Sardinian provinces, which he retained until c. 1290, when he was murdered by Branca d’Oria of Genoa (Inf. XXXII.137)” (T). Toynbee’s data, based on indications found in the early commentators, is currently treated with some caution. [return to English / Italian]

  91–96. Once again the conversation between Ciampolo and Virgil is interrupted by the devils’ vicious sport, with order being maintained only by Barbariccia’s firm insistence. De Robertis has noted the parallels between Ciampolo and the protagonist as objects of the devils’ attention (DeRo.1981.1, p. 3). [return to English / Italian]

  97–99. As crafty as his keepers, Ciampolo uses Dante and Virgil to set up his countermeasures, offering to bring to the surface barrators who will speak their language, Tuscans and Lombards (he has evidently caught the linguistic marks of their birthplaces in their accents). Dante, of course, is variously recognized as a Tuscan from his speech, but it comes as something of a surprise when we discover Virgil actually speaking in Lombard dialect (Inf. XXVII.20–21). [return to English / Italian]

  100–123. The game Ciampolo devises involves the following ploys on his part and reactions by the Malebranche: (1) Ciampolo’s cleverly indirect invitation to the devils to withdraw so as not to frighten off (putative) emergent Tuscans and Lombards whom he, sitting down to show his own apparent good faith, will whistle up if there are no devils visible; (2) Cagnazzo’s understanding that this is a ruse; (3) Ciampolo’s countermove: “But you must give them room. Do you think I would cause my fellow-sufferers still greater suffering?” (of course he would!); (4) Alichino’s being won over by Ciampolo’s wiles, mainly because he is so eager for a fight, whether Ciampolo is tricking them or not; he gets all his mates, even the suspicious Cagnazzo (and Barbariccia, we must surmise), to move down behind the ridge so as not to be visible from the pitch and challenges Ciampolo to try to escape him, if he dare; (5) Ciampolo’s dive from the ridge as he makes good his escape. The rhythm of this central action in Canto XXII parallels that in the previous canto, in which two observers have entirely different interpretations of the same phenomena. Cagnazzo and Alichino here respectively play the parts of Dante and Virgil in the previous scene: Cagnazzo and Dante discern the motives of Ciampolo and the devils, respectively, while Alichino and Virgil do not.

  At v. 123 we have translated the noun proposto as “designs,” i.e., “intention,” as Bosco/Reggio argue in their comment to this verse. [return to English / Italian]

  124–144. The postlude to Ciampolo’s escape also is filled with action: (1) Alichino speeds after the Navarrese but cannot catch up with him; (2) Calcabrina takes out his rage on Alichino, whose gullibility led to the loss of their plaything; (3) they both fall into the pitch. [return to English / Italian]

  145–150. Barbariccia directs four of his band to fly across to the other side of the ditch as part of a rescue mission, while he and the remaining three extend their hooks from the top of the bank, which the ten had hidden behind, in a mutual effort to pull their fallen comrades from the gluey pitch. [return to English / Italian]

  151. Virgil and Dante seize the occasion to escape. [return to English / Italian]

  INFERNO XXIII

  1–3. The quiet opening of the canto compares the two travelers to pairs of Franciscan mendicants. As John of Serravalle reminds us in his comment to this passage, the more authoritative of the two traditionally went before. Thus, when we consider the considerable time spent in exploring Virgil’s difficulties in the preceding two cantos, we probably ought to perceive the delicate irony inherent in these verses. [return to English / Italian]

  4–18. The fable runs roughly as follows: a mouse, wishing to cross a river, is advised by an apparently friendly frog to allow himself to be attached to that frog by a string, to which project he consents. Once the frog, mouse in tow, reaches midstream, he dives in an attempt to drown the mouse. An overflying kite, or hawk, seeing the struggling mouse atop the waters, dives down, captures and kills the mouse—and the attached frog, a bonus. It seems sensible to believe that, as the protagonist reviews the events of the prior canto, he thinks of two things: the aptness of the fable to the situation of Ciampolo (mouse), Alichino (frog), and Calcabrina (kite), as well as to his own: Dante (mouse), Virgil (frog), and the Malebranche (kite). Thus the beginning and the end of the fable are particularly apt to his situation: in order to reach the next bolgia he has tied himself to Virgil, and now the kite must be on its way. That Virgil should be cast in the role of the double-dealing frog seemed so unlikely that apparently no one, before Guyler, pp. 35–40, suggested as much. While this writer agrees with him, the complexity of the passage, it should be noted, guarantees that its meaning will continue to be debated.

  The words “mo” and “issa” are both dialectical forms, meaning “right now,” derived from the Latin modo (used again in this canto at v. 28 and a total of twenty-five times in the poem) and ipsa hora (see Purg. XXIV.55). Hollander (Holl.1984.3), p. 93, suggests that the choice of words for “now” accentuates the imminent and immediate danger in which Dante finds himself.

  The absolute source of this fable of “Aesop” is not known, but it seems that Dante may have been acquainted with both the collection circulated under the name Romulus, which McKenzie (McKe.1900.1) says is the (Carolingian) collection adverted to by the various fourteenth-century commentators who discuss the passage, and the later one (12th century) assembled by Waltherius Anglicus. Clara Kraus (“Esopo,” ED, vol. 2, 1970, pp. 729–30) points out, following McKenzie, that this particular fable derives from an unknown non-Aesopic source, even if the poet presents it as being by him. (Dante had referred to Aesop once previously: Conv. IV.xxx.4. For the question of sources see also Mandruzzato (Mand.1955.1) and Guyler (Guyl.1972.1), pp. 29–31, the latter reviewing the discussions of McKenzie, Larkin (Lark.1962.1 and Lark.1966.1), and Padoan (Pado.1964.1) and eventually favoring Waltherius as source text. [return to English / Italian]

  19. For Dante’s hair, curling tight with fear, Pietro di Dante adduces Aeneid II.774: “steteruntque comae” (and my hair stood on end). The setting for the scene is the night of the destruction of Troy. A few lines earlier (v. 733), Aeneas is warned by his father, Anchises, to flee: “nate,…fuge, nate; propinquant” (my son, my son, flee—they are coming closer). Moments later, Aeneas realizes that he has lost Creusa, and turns back to the flaming city to find her. His wife’s ghost appears to him in a vision that is the cause of his hair standing on end. If Dante was thinking of this scene, as Pietro believed, he has perhaps p
ut Anchises’ warning about the fast-approaching Greek marauders into his own mouth, the advice he might have expected to have heard from Virgil, his “father,” and the author of that scene. For these observations see Hollander (Holl.1984.3), p. 94. [return to English / Italian]

  25–30. As Mark Musa (Musa.1977.1) has pointed out, Virgil, here and elsewhere (Inf. IV.51; X.17–18; XVI.119–120; XIX.39; XXVI.73–74), is either accorded by the protagonist or confers upon himself the power of “reading Dante’s mind.” Musa shows that, rather than the power actually to read the protagonist’s thoughts, Virgil’s capacity is one of heightened rationality, not the kind of supernatural power enjoyed by Beatrice, who, like all beatified souls, has precisely the ability to read the unvoiced thoughts of others; in other words, Virgil is able to fathom what Dante is thinking from the context of the experiences that they share, and nothing more than that.

  Dante refers to mirrors being made by backing clear glass with lead in Convivio III.ix.8. [return to English / Italian]

  34–36. The Malebranche are back, the “kite” of the fable, about to pounce on “mouse” and “frog.” [return to English / Italian]

  37–45. This simile, classical in form, seems to have no classical counterpart (although the fires of dying Troy may come to mind), whether in image or in language; rather, it seems to be among those that Dante draws from contemporary experience, ruinous fires being a pronounced feature of medieval town life. Virgil’s customary paternal role here is resolved into a maternal one. That we should take this surprising change as meant positively is guaranteed by a later scene, just as Virgil has left the poem and returned to Limbo. At this moment of greatest pathos involving Dante’s love for his guide and teacher, Dante turns back to him as a frightened child runs to his mother (Purg. XXX.44), only to find him gone forever. [return to English / Italian]