The Divine Comedy

  So we went down to the second ledge alone;

  a smaller circle of so much greater pain

  the voice of the damned rose in a bestial moan.

  There Minos sits, grinning, grotesque, and hale.

  He examines each lost soul as it arrives

  and delivers his verdict with his coiling tail.

  That is to say, when the ill-fated soul

  appears before him it confesses all,

  and that grim sorter of the dark and foul

  decides which place in Hell shall be its end,

  then wraps his twitching tail about himself

  one coil for each degree it must descend.

  The soul descends and others take its place:

  each crowds in its turn to judgment, each confesses,

  each hears its doom and falls away through space.

  “O you who come into this camp of woe,”

  cried Minos when he saw me turn away

  without awaiting his judgment, “watch where you go

  once you have entered here, and to whom you turn!

  Do not be misled by that wide and easy passage!”

  And my Guide to him: “That is not your concern;

  it is his fate to enter every door.

  This has been willed where what is willed must be,

  and is not yours to question. Say no more.”

  Now the choir of anguish, like a wound,

  strikes through the tortured air. Now I have come

  to Hell’s full lamentation, sound beyond sound.

  I came to a place stripped bare of every light

  and roaring on the naked dark like seas

  wracked by a war of winds. Their hellish flight

  of storm and counterstorm through time foregone,

  sweeps the souls of the damned before its charge.

  Whirling and battering it drives them on,

  and when they pass the ruined gap of Hell

  through which we had come, their shrieks begin anew.

  There they blaspheme the power of God eternal.

  And this, I learned, was the never-ending flight

  of those who sinned in the flesh, the carnal and lusty

  who betrayed reason to their appetite.

  As the wings of wintering starlings bear them on

  in their great wheeling flights, just so the blast

  wherries these evil souls through time foregone.

  Here, there, up, down, they whirl and, whirling, strain

  with never a hope of hope to comfort them,

  not of release, but even of less pain.

  As cranes go over sounding their harsh cry,

  leaving the long streak of their flight in air,

  so come these spirits, wailing as they fly.

  And watching their shadows lashed by wind, I cried:

  “Master, what souls are these the very air

  lashes with its black whips from side to side?”

  “The first of these whose history you would know,”

  he answered me, “was Empress of many tongues.

  Mad sensuality corrupted her so

  that to hide the guilt of her debauchery

  she licensed all depravity alike,

  and lust and law were one in her decree.

  She is Semiramis of whom the tale is told

  how she married Ninus and succeeded him

  to the throne of that wide land the Sultans hold.

  The other is Dido; faithless to the ashes

  of Sichaeus, she killed herself for love.

  The next whom the eternal tempest lashes

  is sense-drugged Cleopatra. See Helen there,

  from whom such ill arose. And great Achilles,

  who fought at last with love in the house of prayer.

  And Paris. And Tristan.” As they whirled above

  he pointed out more than a thousand shades

  of those torn from the mortal life by love.

  I stood there while my Teacher one by one

  named the great knights and ladies of dim time;

  and I was swept by pity and confusion.

  At last I spoke: “Poet, I should be glad

  to speak a word with those two swept together

  so lightly on the wind and still so sad.”

  And he to me: “Watch them. When next they pass,

  call to them in the name of love that drives

  and damns them here. In that name they will pause.”

  Thus, as soon as the wind in its wild course

  brought them around, I called: “O wearied souls!

  if none forbid it, pause and speak to us.”

  As mating doves that love calls to their nest

  glide through the air with motionless raised wings,

  borne by the sweet desire that fills each breast—

  Just so those spirits turned on the torn sky

  from the band where Dido whirls across the air;

  such was the power of pity in my cry.

  “O living creature, gracious, kind, and good,

  going this pilgrimage through the sick night,

  visiting us who stained the earth with blood,

  were the King of Time our friend, we would pray His peace

  on you who have pitied us. As long as the wind

  will let us pause, ask of us what you please.

  The town where I was born lies by the shore

  where the Po descends into its ocean rest

  with its attendant streams in one long murmur.

  Love, which in gentlest hearts will soonest bloom

  seized my lover with passion for that sweet body

  from which I was torn unshriven to my doom.

  Love, which permits no loved one not to love,

  took me so strongly with delight in him

  that we are one in Hell, as we were above.

  Love led us to one death. In the depths of Hell

  Caïna waits for him who took our lives.”

  This was the piteous tale they stopped to tell.

  And when I had heard those world-offended lovers

  I bowed my head. At last the Poet spoke:

  “What painful thoughts are these your lowered brow covers?”

  When at length I answered, I began: “Alas!

  What sweetest thoughts, what green and young desire

  led these two lovers to this sorry pass.”

  Then turning to those spirits once again,

  I said: “Francesca, what you suffer here

  melts me to tears of pity and of pain.

  But tell me: in the time of your sweet sighs

  by what appearances found love the way

  to lure you to his perilous paradise?”

  And she: “The double grief of a lost bliss

  is to recall its happy hour in pain.

  Your Guide and Teacher knows the truth of this.

  But if there is indeed a soul in Hell

  to ask of the beginning of our love

  out of his pity, I will weep and tell:

  On a day for dalliance we read the rhyme

  of Lancelot, how love had mastered him.

  We were alone with innocence and dim time.

  Pause after pause that high old story drew

  our eyes together while we blushed and paled;

  but it was one soft passage overthrew

  our caution and our hearts. For when we read

  how her fond smile was kissed by such a lover,

  he who is one with me alive and dead

  breathed on my lips the tremor of his kiss.

  That book, and he who wrote it, was a pander.

  That day we read no further.” As she said this,

  the other spirit, who stood by her, wept

  so piteously, I felt my senses reel

  and faint away with anguish. I was swept

  by such a swoon as death is, and I fell,

  as a corpse might fall, to the dead floor of Hell.
r />   NOTES

  2. a smaller circle: The pit of Hell tapers like a funnel. The circles of ledges accordingly grow smaller as they descend.

  4. Minos: Like all the monsters Dante assigns to the various offices of Hell, Minos is drawn from classical mythology. He was the son of Europa and of Zeus who descended to her in the form of a bull. Minos became a mythological king of Crete, so famous for his wisdom and justice that after death his soul was made judge of the dead. Virgil presents him fulfilling the same office at Aeneas’ descent to the underworld. Dante, however, transforms him into an irate and hideous monster with a tail. The transformation may have been suggested by the form Zeus assumed for the rape of Europa—the monster is certainly bullish enough here—but the obvious purpose of the brutalization is to present a figure symbolic of the guilty conscience of the wretches who come before it to make their confessions. Dante freely reshapes his materials to his own purposes.

  8. it confesses all: Just as the souls appeared eager to cross Acheron, so they are eager to confess even while they dread. Dante is once again making the point that sinners elect their Hell by an act of their own will.

  27. Hell’s full lamentation: It is with the second circle that the real tortures of Hell begin.

  34. the ruined gap of Hell: See note to Canto IV, 53. At the time of the Harrowing of Hell a great earthquake shook the underworld shattering rocks and cliffs. Ruins resulting from the same shock are noted in Canto XII, 34, and Canto XXI, 112 ff. At the beginning of Canto XXIV, the Poets leave the bolgia of the Hypocrites by climbing the ruined slabs of a bridge that was shattered by this earthquake.

  THE SINNERS OF THE SECOND CIRCLE (THE CARNAL): Here begin the punishments for the various sins of Incontinence (The sins of the She-Wolf). In the second circle are punished those who sinned by excess of sexual passion. Since this is the most natural sin and the sin most nearly associated with love, its punishment is the lightest of all to be found in Hell proper. The Carnal are whirled and buffeted endlessly through the murky air (symbolic of the beclouding of their reason by passion) by a great gale (symbolic of their lust).

  53. Empress of many tongues: Semiramis, a legendary queen of Assyria who assumed full power at the death of her husband, Ninus.

  61. Dido: Queen and founder of Carthage. She had vowed to remain faithful to her husband, Sichaeus, but she fell in love with Aeneas. When Aeneas abandoned her she stabbed herself on a funeral pyre she had had prepared.

  According to Dante’s own system of punishment, she should be in the Seventh Circle (Canto XIII) with the suicides. The only clue Dante gives to the tempering of her punishment is his statement that “she killed herself for love.” Dante always seems readiest to forgive in that name.

  65. Achilles: He is placed among this company because of his passion for Polyxena, the daughter of Priam. For love of her, he agreed to desert the Greeks and to join the Trojans, but when he went to the temple for the wedding (according to the legend Dante has followed) he was killed by Paris.

  74. those two swept together: Paolo and Francesca (PAH-oe-loe; Frahn-CHAY-ska).

  Dante’s treatment of these two lovers is certainly the tenderest and most sympathetic accorded any of the sinners in Hell, and legends immediately began to grow about this pair.

  The facts are these. In 1275 Giovanni Malatesta (Djoe-VAH-nee Mahl-ah-TEH-STAH) of Rimini, called Giovanni the Lame, a somewhat deformed but brave and powerful warrior, made a political marriage with Francesca, daughter of Guido da Polenta of Ravenna. Francesca came to Rimini and there an amour grew between her and Giovanni’s younger brother Paolo. Despite the fact that Paolo had married in 1269 and had become the father of two daughters by 1275, his affair with Francesca continued for many years. It was sometime between 1283 and 1286 that Giovanni surprised them in Francesca’s bedroom and killed both of them.

  Around these facts the legend has grown that Paolo was sent by Giovanni as his proxy to the marriage, that Francesca thought he was her real bridegroom and accordingly gave him her heart irrevocably at first sight. The legend obviously increases the pathos, but nothing in Dante gives it support.

  102. that we are one in Hell, as we were above: At many points of the Inferno Dante makes clear the principle that the souls of the damned are locked so blindly into their own guilt that none can feel sympathy for another, or find any pleasure in the presence of another. The temptation of many readers is to interpret this line romantically: i.e., that the love of Paolo and Francesca survives Hell itself. The more Dantean interpretation, however, is that they add to one another’s anguish (a) as mutual reminders of their sin, and (b) as insubstantial shades of the bodies for which they once felt such great passion.

  104. Caïna waits for him: Giovanni Malatesta was still alive at the writing. His fate is already decided, however, and upon his death, his soul will fall to Caïna, the first ring of the last circle (Canto XXXII), where lie those who performed acts of treachery against their kin.

  124-125. the rhyme of Lancelot: The story exists in many forms. The details Dante makes use of are from an Old French version.

  126. dim time: The original simply reads “We were alone, suspecting nothing.” “Dim time” is rhyme-forced, but not wholly outside the legitimate implications of the original, I hope. The old courtly romance may well be thought of as happening in the dim ancient days. The apology, of course, comes after the fact: one does the possible then argues for justification, and there probably is none.

  134. that book, and he who wrote it, was a pander: “Galeotto,” the Italian word for “pander,” is also the Italian rendering of the name of Gallehault, who, in the French Romance Dante refers to here, urged Lancelot and Guinevere on to love.

  Canto VI

  CIRCLE THREE

  The Gluttons

  Dante recovers from his swoon and finds himself in the THIRD CIRCLE. A great storm of putrefaction falls incessantly, a mixture of stinking snow and freezing rain, which forms into a vile slush underfoot. Everything about this Circle suggests a gigantic garbage dump. The souls of the damned lie in the icy paste, swollen and obscene, and CERBERUS, the ravenous three-headed dog of Hell, stands guard over them, ripping and tearing them with his claws and teeth.

  These are the GLUTTONS. In life they made no higher use of the gifts of God than to wallow in food and drink, producers of nothing but garbage and offal. Here they lie through all eternity, themselves like garbage, half-buried in fetid slush, while Cerberus slavers over them as they in life slavered over their food.

  As the Poets pass, one of the speakers sits up and addresses Dante. He is CIACCO, THE HOG, a citizen of Dante’s own Florence. He recognizes Dante and asks eagerly for news of what is happening there. With the foreknowledge of the damned, Ciacco then utters the first of the political prophecies that are to become a recurring theme of the Inferno. The Poets then move on toward the next Circle, at the edge of which they encounter the monster Plutus.

  My senses had reeled from me out of pity

  for the sorrow of those kinsmen and lost lovers.

  Now they return, and waking gradually,

  I see new torments and new souls in pain

  about me everywhere. Wherever I turn

  away from grief I turn to grief again.

  I am in the Third Circle of the torments.

  Here to all time with neither pause nor change

  the frozen rain of Hell descends in torrents.

  Huge hailstones, dirty water, and black snow

  pour from the dismal air to putrefy

  the putrid slush that waits for them below.

  Here monstrous Cerberus, the ravening beast,

  howls through his triple throats like a mad dog

  over the spirits sunk in that foul paste.

  His eyes are red, his beard is greased with phlegm,

  his belly is swollen, and his hands are claws