The Divine Comedy Volume Ii Part 7

[1] Removing the first P that the Angel of the Gate had incised on Dante's brow.

As on the right hand, in going up the mountain,[1] where sits the church that dominates her the well-guided[2] city above Rubaconte,[3] the bold flight of the ascent is broken by the stairs, which were made in an age when the record and the stave were secure,[4] in like manner, the bank which falls here very steeply from the next round is slackened; but on this side and that the high rock grazes.[5] As we turned our persons thither, voices sang "Beati pauperes spiritu"[6] in such wise that speech could not tell it. Ah, how different are these pa.s.ses from those of h.e.l.l! for here through songs one enters, and there below through fierce lamentings.

[1] The hill of San Miniato, above Florence.

[2] Ironical.

[3] The upper bridge at Florence across the Arno, named after Messer Rubaconte di Mandella, podesta of Florence, who laid the first stone of it in 1237; now called the Ponte alle Grazie, after a little chapel built upon it in 1471, and dedicated to Our Lady of Grace.

[4] In the good old time when men were honest. In 1299 one Messer Niccola Acciaioli, in order to conceal a fraudulent transaction, had a leaf torn out from the public notorial record; and about the same time an officer in charge of the revenue from salt, for the sake of private gain, measured the salt he received with an honest measure, but that which he sold with a measure diminished by the removal of a stave.

[5] The stairway is so narrow.

[6] "Blessed are the poor in spirit." As Dante pa.s.ses from each round of Purgatory, an angel removes the P which denotes the special sin there purged away. And the removal is accompanied with the words of one of the Beat.i.tudes.

Now we were mounting up over the holy stairs, and it seemed to me I was far more light than I had seemed on the plain before.

Whereon I, "Master, say, what heavy thing has been lifted from me, so that almost no weariness is felt by me as I go on?" He answered, "When the P's that almost extinct[1] still remain on thy countenance shall be, as one is, quite erased, thy feet will be so conquered by good will that not only they will not feel fatigue, but it will be delight to them to be urged up." Then I did like those who are going with something on their head, unknown by them unless the signs of others make them suspect; wherefore the hand a.s.sists to ascertain, and seeks and finds, and performs that office which cannot be accomplished by the sight; and with the fingers of my right hand outspread, I found only six those letters which he of the keys had encised upon my temples: looking at which my Leader smiled.

[1] Almost extinct, because, as St. Thomas Aquinas says, "Pride by which we are chiefly turned from G.o.d is the first and the origin of all sins." He adds, "Pride is said to be the beginning of every sin, not because every single sin has its source in pride, but because every kind of sin is born of pride." Summa Theol., II. 2, quaest. 162, art. 7.

CANTO XIII. Second Ledge the Envious.--Examples of Love.--The Shades in haircloth, and with sealed eyes.--Sapia of Siena.

We were at the top of the stairway, where the mountain, ascent of which frees one from ill, is the second time cut back. There a cornice binds the hill round about, in like manner as the first, except that its arc bends more quickly. No shadow is there, nor mark which is apparent [1] so that the bank appears smooth and so the path, with the livid color of the stone.

[1] No sculptured or engraved scenes.

"If to enquire one waits here for people," said the Poet, "I fear that perhaps our choice will have too much delay." Then he set his eyes fixedly upon the sun, made of his right side the centre for his movement, and turned the left part of himself. "O sweet light, with confidence in which I enter on the new road, do thou lead us on it," he said, "as there is need for leading here within. Thou warmest the world, thou s.h.i.+nest upon it; if other reason prompt not to the contrary, thy rays ought ever to be guides."

As far as here on earth is counted for a mile, so far had we now gone there, in little time because of ready will; and towards us were heard to fly, not however seen, spirits uttering courteous invitations to the table of love. The first voice that pa.s.sed flying, "Virum non habent,"[1] loudly said, and went on behind us reiterating it. And before it had become quite inaudible through distance, another pa.s.sed by, crying, "I am Orestes," [2]

and also did not stay. "O Father," said I, "what voices are these?" and even as I was asking, lo! the third, saying, "Love them from whom ye have had wrong." And the good Master: "This circle scourges the sin of envy, and therefore from love are drawn the cords of the scourge. The curb must be of the opposite sound; I think that thou wilt hear it before thou arrivest at the pa.s.s of pardon.[3] But fix thine eyes very fixedly through the air, and thou wilt see in front of us people sitting, and each is seated against the rock." Then more than before I opened my eyes; I looked in front of me, and saw shades with cloaks in color not different from the stone. And when we were a little further forward, I heard them crying, "Mary, pray for us!" crying, "Michael," and "Peter," and all the Saints.

[1] "They have no wine."--John ii. 3. The words of Mary at the wedding feast of Cana, symbolic of a kindness that is a rebuke of envy.

[2] The words of Pylades, before Aegisthus, when contending with Orestes to be put to death in his stead.

[3] At the stair to the third ledge, at the foot of which stands the angel who cancels the sin of envy.

I do not believe there goes on earth to-day a man so hard that he had not been p.r.i.c.ked by compa.s.sion at that which I then saw. For when I had approached so near to them that their actions came surely to me, tears were drawn from my eyes by heavy grief. They seemed to me covered with coa.r.s.e haircloth, and one supported the other with his shoulders, and all were supported by the bank.

Thus the blind, who lack subsistence, stand at pardons[1] to beg for what they need, and one bows his head upon another, so that pity may quickly be moved in others, not only by the sound of the words, but by the sight which implores no less. And as to the blind the sun profits not, so to the shades, there where I was now speaking, the light of Heaven wills not to make largess of itself; for a wire of iron pierces and sews up the eyelids of all; even as is done to a wild sparrow-hawk, because it stays not quiet.

[1] On occasion of special indulgences the beggars gather at the door of churches frequented by those who seek the pardons to be obtained within.

It seemed to me I was doing outrage as I went on, seeing others, not myself being seen, wherefore I turned me to my sage Counsel; well did he know what the dumb wished to say, and therefore waited not my asking, but said, "Speak, and be brief and to the point."

Virgil was coming with me on that side of the cornice from which one may fall, because it is encircled by no rim. On the other side of me were the devout shades, that through the horrible st.i.tches were pressing out the tears so that they bathed their cheeks. I turned me to them, and, "O folk secure," I began, "of seeing the lofty light which alone your desire holds in its care, may grace speedily dissolve the sc.u.m of your consciences so that the stream of memory through them may descend clear,[1] tell me, for it will be gracious and dear to me, if there be a soul here among you that is Latin, and perhaps it will be good for him if I learn it." "O my brother, each is a citizen of one true city,[2]

but thou meanest, who lived in Italy while a pilgrim."[3] This it seemed to me to hear for answer somewhat further on than where I was standing; wherefore I made myself heard still more that way.

Among the others I saw a shade that was expectant in look; and, if any one should wish to ask, How?--like a blind man it was lifting up its chin. "Spirit," said I, "that humblest thyself in order to ascend, if thou art that one which answered me, make thyself known to me either by place or by name." "I was a Sienese," it answered, "and with these others I cleanse here my guilty life, weeping to Him that He grant Himself to us. Sapient I was not, although I was called Sapia, and I was far more glad of others' harm than of my own good fortune. And that thou mayst not believe that I deceive thee, bear if I was foolish as I tell thee. The arch of my years already descending, my fellow-citizens were joined in battle near to Colle[4] with their adversaries, and I prayed G.o.d for that which He willed. They were routed there, and turned into the bitter pa.s.ses of flight; and I, seeing the pursuit, experienced a joy unmatched by any other; so much that I turned upward my audacious face, crying out to G.o.d, 'Now no more I fear thee;' as the blackbird doth because of a little fair weather. At the very end of my life I desired peace with G.o.d; and even yet my debt would not be lessened by penitence,[5]

had it not been that Pier Pettinagno,[6] who out of charity was sorry for me, held me in memory in his holy prayers. But thou, who art thou that goest asking of our conditions, and bearest thine eyes loose as I think, and breathing dost speak?" "My eyes," said I, "will yet be taken from me here but a little time, for small is the offence committed through their being turned with envy. Far greater is the fear, with which my soul is in suspense, of the torment beneath, and already the load down there weighs upon me. And she to me, "Who then hath led thee here up among us, if thou thinkest to return below?" And I, "This one who is with me, and says not a word: and I am alive; and therefore ask of me, spirit elect, if thou wouldst that I should yet move for thee on earth my mortal feet." "Oh, this is so strange a thing to hear," she replied, "that it is great sign that G.o.d loves thee; therefore a.s.sist me sometimes with thy prayer. And I beseech thee, by that which thou most desirest, if ever thou tread the earth of Tuscany, that with my kindred thou restore my fame. Thou wilt see them among that vain people which hopes in Talamone,[7] and will waste more hope there, than in finding the Diana[8] but the admirals will stake the most there.[9]

[1] Being purified from sin they will retain no memory of it.

[2] "Fellow-citizens with the saints, and of the household of G.o.d."--Ephesians, ii. 19.

[3] "For here have we no continuing city, but we seek one to come."--Hebrews, xiii. 14.

[4] This was the battle in 1259, in which the Florentines routed die Sienese Ghibellines, at whose head was Provenzan Salvani. who was slain. See Canto XI.

[5] I should not yet within Purgatory have diminished my debt of expiation, but, because I delayed repentance till the hour of Death, I should still be outside the gate.

[6] A poor comb-dealer, a man of kind heart, honest dealings, and good deeds, and still remembered for them in Siena. He died in 1289.

[7] A little port on the coast of Tuscany, on which the Sienese wasted toil and money in the vain hope that by strengthening and enlarging it they could make themselves rivals at sea of the Pisans and Genoese.

[8] A subterranean stream supposed to flow beneath the city.

[9] Of these last words the meaning is obscure.

CANTO XIV. Second Ledge: the Envious--Guido del Duca.--Rinieri de' Calboli.--Examples of the punishment of Envy.

"Who is this that circles our mountain ere death have given him flight, and opens and shuts his eyes at his own will?"[1] "I know not who he is, but I know that he is not alone. Do thou, who art nearer to him, ask him; and sweetly, so that he may speak, accost him." Thus two spirits, leaning one to the other, discoursed of me there on the right hand, then turned up their faces to speak to me. And one of them said, "O soul that still fixed in thy body goest on toward heaven, for charity console us, and tell us whence thou comest, and who thou art; for thou makest us so marvel at this thy grace, as needs must a thing that never was before." And I, "Through mid Tuscany there wanders a little stream, that has its rise on Falterona,[2] and a hundred miles of coa.r.s.e does not suffice it. From thereupon I bring this body.

To tell you who I am would be to speak in vain, for my name as yet makes no great sound." "If I grasp aright thy meaning with my understanding," then replied to me he who had spoken first, "thou speakest of the Arno." And the other said to him, "Why did he conceal the name of that river, even as one does of horrible things?" And the shade of whom this was asked, delivered itself thus, "I know not, but truly it is fit that the name of such a valley perish, for from its source (where the rugged mountain chain, from which Pelorus[3] is cut off, is so teeming that in few places it pa.s.ses beyond that mark), far as there where it gives back in restoration that which heaven dries up of the sea (wherefrom the rivers have what flows in them), virtue is driven away as an enemy by all men, like a snake, either through misfortune of the place, or through evil habit that incites them.

Wherefore the inhabitants of the wretched valley have so changed their nature that it seems as though Circe had had them in her feeding. Among foul hogs,[4] more fit for acorns than for other food made for human use, it first directs its poor path. Then, coming down, it finds curs more snarling, than their power warrants,[5] and at them disdainfully it twists its muzzle.[6] It goes on falling, and the more it swells so much the more the accursed and ill-fated ditch finds the dogs becoming wolves.[7] Descending then through many hollow gulfs, it finds foxes[8] so full of fraud, that they fear not that wit may entrap them. Nor will I leave to speak though another hear me: and well it will be for this one if hereafter he mind him of that which a true spirit discloses to me.

[1] These words are spoken by Guido del Duca, who is answered by Rinieri de' Calboli; both of them from the Romagna.

[2] One of the highest of the Tuscan Apennines.

[3] The north-eastern promontory of Sicily.

[4] The people of the Casentino, the upper valley of the Arno.

[5] The Aretines.

[6] Turning westward.

[7] The wolves of Florence.