[4] A mountainous district in Sardinia, inhabited by people of barbarous customs.

CANTO XXIV. Sixth Ledge: the Gluttonous.--Forese Donati.--Bonagiunta of Lucca--Pope Martin IV--Ubaldin dalla Pila.

--Bonifazio.--Messer Marchese.--Prophecy of Bonagiunta concerning Gentucca, and of Forese concerning Corso de' Donati.--Second Mystic Tree.--The Angel of the Pa.s.s.

Speech made not the going, nor the going made that more slow; but, talking, we went on apace even as a ship urged by good wind.

And the shades, that seemed things doubly dead, through the pits of their eyes drew in wonder at me, perceiving that I was alive.

And I, continuing my discourse, said, "He[1] goeth up perchance for another's sake more slowly than he would do. But, tell me, if thou knowest, where is Piccarda[2] tell me if I see person of note among this folk that so gazes at me." "My sister, who, between fair and good, was I know not which the most, triumphs rejoicing in her crown already on high Olympus." So he said first, and then, "Here it is not forbidden to name each other, since our semblance is so milked away by the diet.[3] This," and he pointed with his finger, "is Bonagiunta,[4] Bonagiunta of Lucca; and that face beyond him, more sharpened than the others, had the Holy Church in his arms:[5]from Tours he was; and by fasting he purges the eels of Bolsena, and the Vernaccia wine."

Many others he named to me, one by one, and at their naming all appeared content; so that for this I saw not one dark mien. For hunger using their teeth on emptiness, I saw Ubaldin dalla Pila, and Boniface,[6] who shepherded many people with his crook. I saw Messer Marchese, who once had leisure to drink at Forum with less thirst, and even so was such that he felt not sated. But as one does who looks, and then makes account more of one than of another, did I of him of Lucca, who seemed to have most cognizance of me. He was murmuring; and I know not what, save that I heard "Gentucca" there[7] where he felt the chastis.e.m.e.nt of the justice which so strips them. "O soul," said I, "who seemest so desirous to speak with me, do so that I may hear thee, and satisfy both thyself and me by thy speech." "A woman is born, and wears not yet the veil,"[8] he began, "who will make my city pleasant to thee, however men may blame it.[9] Thou shalt go on with this prevision: if from my murmuring thou hast received error, the true things will yet clear it up for thee. But say, if I here see him, who drew forth the new rhymes, beginning, 'Ladies who have intelligence of Love'?"[10] And I to him, "I am one, who, when Love inspires me, notes, and in that measure which he dictates within, I go revealing." "O brother, now I see," said he, "the knot which held back the Notary,[11] and Guittone,[12]

and me short of the sweet new style that I hear. I see clearly how your pens go on close following the dictator, which surely befell not with ours. And he who most sets himself to look further sees nothing more between one style and the other." [13]

And, as if contented, he was silent.

[1]Statius; more slowly, for the sake of remaining with Virgil.

[2] The sister of Forese, whom Dante meets in Paradise (Canto III.).

[3] Recognition by the looks being thus impossible.

[4] Bonagiunta Urbiciani; he lived and wrote in the last half of the thirteenth century.

[5] Martin IV., Pope from 1281 to 1284.

[6] Archbishop of Ravenna.

[7] Upon his lips.

[8] Of a married woman.

[9] This honorable and delightful reference to the otherwise unknown maiden, Gentucca of Lucca, has given occasion to much worthless and base comment. Dante was at Lucca during his exile, in 1314. He himself was one of those who blamed the city; see h.e.l.l, Canto XXI.

[10] The first verse of the first canzone of The New Life.

[11] The Sicilian poet, Jacopo da Lentino.

[12] Guittone d' Arezzo, commonly called Fra Guittone, as one of the order of the Frati Gaudenti. Dante refers to him again in Canto XXVI.

[13] He who seeks for other reason does not find it.

As the birds that winter along the Nile sometimes make a flock in the air, then fly in greater haste, and go in file, so all the folk that were there, light both through leanness and through will, turning away their faces, quickened again their pace. And as the man who is weary of running lets his companions go on, and himself walks, until he vents the panting of his chest, so Forese let the holy flock pa.s.s on and came along behind, with me, saying, "When shall it be that I see thee again?" "I know not," I replied to him, "how long I may live; but truly my return will not be so speedy, that I shall not in desire he sooner at the sh.o.r.e;[1] because the place where I was set to live, denudes itself more of good from day to day, and seems ordained to wretched ruin." "Now go," said he, "for I see him who hath most fault for this[2] dragged at the tail of a beast, toward the valley where there is no disculpation ever. The beast at every step goes faster, increasing always till it strikes him, and leaves his body vilely undone. Those wheels have not far to turn," and he raised his eyes to heaven, "for that to become clear to thee which my speech cannot further declare. Now do thou stay behind, for time is so precious in this kingdom, that I lose too much coming thus at even pace with thee."

[1] Of Purgatory.

[2] Corso de' Donati, the leader of the Black Guelphs and chief cause of the evils of the city. On the 15th September, 1308, his enemies having risen against him, he was compelled to fly from Florence. Near the city he was thrown from his horse and dragged along, till he was overtaken and killed by his pursuers.

As a cavalier sometimes sets forth at a gallop from a troop which rides, and goes to win the honor of the first encounter, so he went away from us with greater strides; and I remained on the way with only those two who were such great marshals of the world.[1]

And when he had entered so far before us that my eyes became such followers on him as my mind was on his words,[2] there appeared to me the laden and l.u.s.ty branches of another apple-tree, and not far distant, because only then had I turned thitherward.[3] I saw people beneath it raising their hands and crying, I know not what, toward the leaves, like eager and fond little children who pray, and he they pray to answers not, hut, to make their longing very keen, holds aloft their desire, and conceals it not. Then they departed as if undeceived:[4] and now we came to the great tree that rejects so many prayers and tears. "Pa.s.s further onward, without drawing near; the tree[5] is higher up which was eaten of by Eve, and this plant has been raised from that." Thus among the branches I know not who was speaking; wherefore Virgil and Statius and I, drawing close together, went onward along the side that rises.[6] "Be mindful," the voice was saying, "of the accursed ones,[7] formed in the clouds, who, when glutted, strove against Theseus with their double b.r.e.a.s.t.s; and of the Hebrews, who, at the drinking, showed themselves soft,[8] wherefore Gideon wished them not for companions, when he went down the hills toward Midian."

[1] "A marshal is a ruler of the court and of the army under the emperor, and should know how to command what ought to be done, as those two poets knew what it was befitting to do in the world in respect to moral and civil life."--Buti.

[2] Could no longer follow him distinctly.

[3] In the circling course around the mountain.

[4] Having found vain the hope of reaching the fruit.

[5] The tree of knowledge, in the Earthly Paradise: Canto x.x.xII.

[6] On the inner side, by the wall of the mountain.

[7] The centaurs.

[8] Judges, vii. 4-7.

Thus keeping close to one of the two borders, we pa.s.sed by, hearing of sins of gluttony followed, in sooth, by wretched gains. Then going at large along the lonely road, full a thousand steps and more had borne us onward, each of us in meditation without a word. "Why go ye thus in thought, ye three alone?" said a sudden voice; whereat I started as do terrified and timid beasts. I lifted up my head to see who it might be, and never were gla.s.s or metals seen so shining and ruddy in a furnace as one I saw who said, "If it please you to mount up, here must a turn be taken; this way he goes who wishes to go for peace." His aspect had taken my sight from me, wherefore I turned me behind my teachers like one who goes according as he hears.[1] And as, harbinger of the dawn, the breeze of May stirs and smells sweet, all impregnate with the herbage and with the flowers, such a wind I felt strike upon the middle of my forehead, and clearly felt the motion of the plumes which made mime perceive the odor of ambrosia. And I heard said, "Blessed are they whom so much grace illumines, that the love of taste inspires not in their b.r.e.a.s.t.s too great desire, hungering always so far as is just."[2]

[1] Blinded for the instant by the dazzling brightness of the angel,Dante drops behind his teachers, to follow them as one guided by hearing only.

[2] "Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness."--Matthew, v.6.

Dante has already cited this Beat.i.tude (Canto XXII.), applying it to those who are purging themselves from the inordinate desire for riches; he there omits the word "hunger," as here he omits the "and thirst."

CANTO XXV. Ascent to the Seventh Ledge.--Discourse of Statius on generation, the infusion of the Soul into the body, and the corporeal semblance of Souls after death.--The Seventh Ledge: the l.u.s.tful.--The mode of their Purification.

It was the hour in which the ascent allowed no delay; for the meridian circle had been left by the Sun to the Bull, and by the Night to the Scorpion;[1] wherefore as the man doth who, whatever may appear to him, stops not, but goes on his way, if the goad of necessity p.r.i.c.k him, so did we enter through the gap, one before the other, taking the stairway which by its narrowness unpairs the climbers.

[1] Taurus follows on Aries, so that the hour indicated is about 2 P.M. The Night here means the part of the Heavens opposite to the Sun.

And as the little stork that lifts its wing through will to fly, and dares not abandon the nest, and down it drops, so was I, with will to ask, kindled and quenched, coming even to the motion that he makes who proposes to speak. Nor, though our going was swift, did my sweet Father forbear, but he said, Discharge the bow of speech which up to the iron thou hast drawn." Then I opened my mouth confidently, and began, "How can one become thin, where the need of nourishment is not felt?" "If thou hadst called to mind how Meleager was consumed by time consuming of a brand this would not be," he said, " so difficult to thee; and if thou hadst thought, how at your quivering your image quivers within the mirror, that which seems hard would seem easy to thee. But that thou mayst to thy pleasure be inwardly at ease, lo, here is Statius, and I call on him and pray that he be now the healer of thy wounds." "If I explain to him the eternal view," replied Statius, "where thou art present, let it excuse me that to thee I cannot snake denial."[1]

[1] Here and elsewhere Statius seems to represent allegorically human philosophy enlightened by Christian teaching, dealing with questions of knowledge, not of faith.

Then he began, "If, son, thy mind regards and receives my words, they will be. for thee a light unto the 'how,' which thou askest.[1] The perfect blood which is never drunk by the thirsty veins, but remains like the food which thou removest from time table, takes in time heart virtue informative of all the human members; even as that blood does, which pa.s.ses through the veins to become those members.[2] Digested yet again, it descends to the part whereof it is more becoming to be silent than to speak; and thence, afterwards, it drops upon another's blood in the natural vessel. There one and the other meet together; the one ordained to be pa.s.sive, and the other to be active because of the perfect place[3] wherefrom it is pressed out; and, conjoined with the former, the latter begins to operate, first by coagulating, and then by quickening that to which it gives consistency for its own material. The active virtue having become a soul, like that of a plant (in so far different that this is on the way, and that already arrived),[4] so worketh then, that now it moves and feels, as a sea-fungus doth; and then it proceeds to organize the powers of which it is the germ. Now, son, the virtue is displayed, now it is diffused, which issues from the heart of the begetter, where nature is intent on all the members.[5] But how from an animal it becomes a speaking being,[6] thou as yet seest not; this is such a point that once it made one wiser than thee to err, so that in his teaching he separated from the soul the potential intellect, because he saw no organ a.s.sumed by it.[7] Open thy heart unto the truth that is coming, and know that, so soon as in the foitus the articulation of the brain is perfect, the Primal Motor turns to it with joy over such art of nature, and inspires a new spirit replete with virtue, which draws that which it finds active there into its own substance, and makes one single soul which lives and feels and circles on itself. And that thou mayst the less wonder at this doctrine, consider the warmth of the sun which, combining with the juice that flows from the vine, becomes wine. And when Lachesis has no more thread, this soul is loosed from the flesh, and virtually bears away with itself both the human and the divine; the other faculties all of them mute,[8] but memory, understanding, and will[9] far more acute in action than before. Without staying, it falls of itself, marvelously to one of the banks.[10] Here it first knows its own roads. Soon as the place there circ.u.mscribes it, the formative virtue rays out around it in like manner, and as much as in the living members.[11] And as the air when it is full of rain becomes adorned with divers colors by another's rays which are reflected in it, so here the neighboring air shapes itself in that form which is virtually imprinted upon it by the soul that hath stopped.[12] And then like the flamelet which follows the fire wherever it shifts, so its new form follows the spirit. Since thereafter from this it has its aspect, it is called a shade; and by this it shapes the organ for every sense even to the sight; by this we speak, and by this we laugh, by this we make the tears and the sighs, which on the mountain thou mayst have perceived. According as the desires and the other affections impress us the shade is shaped; and this is the cause of that at which thou wonderest."

[1] The doctrine set forth by Statius in the following discourse is derived from St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theol., i. 118, 119, who, in his turn, derived it from Aristotle. It is to be found, more briefly stated, in the Convito, iv. 21.

[2] A portion of the blood remains after the veins are supplied; in the heart all the blood receives the virtue by which it gives form to the various organs of the body.

[3] The heart.