Purgatory: Canto VI. Ante-Purgatory
Ante-Purgatory.--More spirits who had deferred
repentance till they were overtaken by a violent death.--Efficacy
of prayer.--Sordello.--Apostrophe to Italy.
When a game of dice is broken up, he who loses remains sorrowful,
repeating the throws, and, saddened, learns; with the other all
the folk go along; one goes before and one plucks him from
behind, and at his side one brings himself to mind. He does not
stop; listens to one and the other the man to whom he reaches
forth his hand presses on him no longer, and thus from the throng
he defends himself. Such was I in that dense crowd, turning my
face to them this way and that; and, promising, I loosed myself
from them.
Here was the Aretine,[1] who from the fierce arms of Ghin di
Tacco had his death; and the other who was drowned when running
in pursuit. Here Federigo Novello [2] was praying with hands
outstretched, and he of Pisa, who made the good Marzucco seem
strong.[3] I saw Count Orso; and the soul divided from its body
by spite and by envy, as it said, and not for fault committed,
Pierre do la Brosse,[5] I mean; and here let the Lady of Brabant
take forethought, while she is on earth, so that for this she be
not of the worse flock.
[1] The Aretine was Messer Benincasa da Laterina, a learned
judge, who had condemned to death for their crimes two relatives
of Ghin di Tacco, the most famous freebooter of the day, whose
headquarters were between Siena and Rome. Some time after, Messer
Benincasa sitting as judge in Rome, Ghino entered the city with a
band of his followers, made his way to the tribunal, slew
Benincasa, and escaped unharmed.
[2] Another Aretine, of the Tarlati family, concerning whose
death the early commentators are at variance. Benvenuto da Imola
says that, hotly pursuing his enemies, his horse carried him into
a marsh, from which he could not extricate himself, so that his
foes turned upon him and slew him with their arrows.
[3] Federigo, son of the Count Guido Novello, of the
circumstances of whose death, said to have taken place in 1291,
nothing certain is known. Benvenuto says, he was multum probus, a
good youth, and therefore Dante mentions him.
[4] Of him of Pisa different stories are told. Benvenuto says, "I
have heard from the good Boccaccio, whom I trust more than the
others, that Marzucco was a good man of the city of Pisa, whose
son was beheaded by order of Count Ugolino, the tyrant, who
commanded that his body should remain unburied. In the evening
his father went to the Count, as a stranger unconcerned in the
matter, and, without tears or other sign of grief, said, 'Surely,
my lord, it would be to your honor that that poor body should be
buried, and not left cruelly as food for dogs.' Then the Count,
recognizing him, said astonished, 'Go, your patience overcomes my
obduracy,' and immediately Marzucco went and buried his son."
[5] Of Count Orso nothing is known with certainty.
[6] Pierre de is Brosse was chamberlain and confidant of Philip
the Bold of France. He lost the king's favor, and charges of
wrong-doing being brought against him he was hung. It was
reported that his death was brought about through jealousy by
Mary of Brabant, the second wife of Philip. She lived till 1321,
so that Dante's warning may have reached her ears.
When I was free from each and all those shades who prayed only
that some one else should pray, so that their becoming holy may
be speeded, I began, "It seems that thou deniest to me, O Light
of mine, expressly, in a certain text, that orison can bend
decree of Heaven, and this folk pray only for this, -- shall then
their hope be vain? or is thy saying not rightly clear to me?[1]
[1] Virgil represents Palinurus as begging to be allowed to cross
the Styx, while his body was still unburied and without due
funeral rites. To this petition the Sibyl answers:--Desine fata
Deum flecti sperare precando:--Cease to hope that the decrees of
the gods can be changed by prayer."--Aeneid, vi. 376.
And he to me, "My writing is plain, and the hope of these is not
fallacious, if well it is regarded with sound mind; for top of
judgment vails not itself because a fire of love may, in one
instant, fulfil that which he who is stationed here must satisfy.
And there where I affirmed this proposition, defect was not
amended by a prayer, because the prayer was disjoined from God.
But truly in regard to so deep a doubt decide thou not, unless
she tell thee who shall be a light between the truth and the
understanding.[1] I know not if thou understandest; I speak of
Beatrice. Thou shalt see her above, smiling and happy, upon the
summit of this mountain."
[1] The question, being one that relates to the Divine will,
cannot be answered with full assurance by human reason.
And I, "My lord, let us go on with greater speed, for now I mu
not weary as before; and behold now how the bill casts its
shadow." "We will go forward with this day," he answered, "as
much further as we shall yet be able; but the fact is of other
form than thou supposest. Before thou art there-above thou wilt
see him return, who is now hidden by the hill-side so that thou
dost not make his rays to break. But see there a soul which
seated all alone is looking toward us; it will point out to us
the speediest way." We came to it. O Lombard soul, how lofty and
scornful wast thou; and in the movement of thine eyes grave and
slow! It said not anything to us, but let us go on, looking only
in manner of a lion when he couches. Virgil, however, drew near
to it, praying that it would show to us the best ascent; and it
answered not to his request, but of our country and life it asked
us. And the sweet Leader began, "Mantua,"--and the shade, all in
itself recluse, rose toward him from the place where erst it was,
saying, "O Mantuan, I am Sordello of thy city,"[1]--and they
embraced each other.
[1] Sordello, who lived early in the thirteenth century, was of
the family of the Visconti of Mantua. He left his native land and
gave up his native tongue to live and write as a troubadour in
Provence, but his fame belonged to Italy.
Ah, servile Italy, hostel of grief! ship without pilot in great
tempest! not lady of provinces, but a brothel! that gentle soul
was so ready, only at the sweet sound of his native land, to give
glad welcome here unto his fellow-citizen: and now in thee thy
living men exist not without war, and of those whom one wall and
one moat shut in one doth gnaw the other. Search, wretched one,
around the shores, thy seaboard, and then look within thy bosom,
if any part in thee enjoyeth peace! What avails it that for thee
Justinian should mend the bridle, if the saddle be empty? Without
this, the shame would be less. Ah folk,[1] that oughtest to be
devout and let Caesar sit in the saddle, if thou rightly
understandest what God notes for thee! Look how fell this wild
beast has become, through not being corrected by the spurs, since
thou didst put thy hand upon the bridle. O German Albert, who
abandonest her who has become untamed and savage, and oughtest to
bestride her saddle-bows, may a just judgment from the stars fall
upon thy blood, and may it be strange and manifest, so that thy
successor may have fear of it! [2] For thou and thy father,
retained up there by greed, have suffered the garden of the
empire to become desert. Come thou to see Montecchi and
Cappelletti, Monaldi and Filippeschi,[3] thou man without care:
those already wretched, and these in dread. Come, cruel one,
come, and see the distress of thy nobility, and cure their hurts;
and thou shalt see Santafiora[4] how safe it is. Come to see thy
Rome, that weeps, widowed and alone, and day and night cries, "My
Caesar, wherefore dost thou not keep me company?" Come to see the
people, how loving it is; and, if no pity for us move thee, come
to be shamed by thine own renown! And if it be lawful for me, O
Supreme Jove that wast on earth crucified for us, are thy just
eyes turned aside elsewhere? Or is it preparation, that in the
abyss of thy counsel thou art making for some good utterly cut
off from our perception? For the cities of Italy are all full of
tyrants, and every churl that comes playing the partisan becomes
a Marcellus?[5]
[1] The Church-folk, the clergy, for whom God has ordained, --
"Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's."
[2] Albert of Hapsburg, son of the Emperor Rudolph, was elected
King of the Romans in 1298, but like his father never went to
Italy to he crowned. He was murdered by his nephew, John, called
the parricide, in 1308, at Konigsfelden. The successor of Albert
was Henry VII. of Luxemborg, who came to Italy in 1311, was
crowned at Rome in 1312, and died at Buonconvento the next year.
His death ended the hopes of Dante.
[3] Famous families, the first two of Verona, the last two of
Orvieto, at enmity with each other in their respective
cities,--types of a common condition.
[4]The Counts of Santafiora were once the most powerful
Ghibelline nobles in the Sienese territory. Their power had
declined since the Hohenstaufen Emperors had been succeeded by
the Hapsburgs, and they were now subjected to the Guelphs of
Siena.
[5] That is, a hitter opponent of the empire, as the Consul M.
Claudius Marcellus was of Caesar.
My Florence! surely thou mayst be content with this digression,
which toucheth thee not, thanks to thy people that for itself
takes heed. Many have justice at heart but shoot slowly, in order
not to come without counsel to the bow; but thy people has it on
the edge of its lips. Many reject the common burden, but thy
people, eager, replies without being called on, and cries, "I
load myself." Now be thou glad, for thou hast truly wherefore:
thou rich, thou in peace, thou wise. If I speak the truth, the
result hides it not. Athens and Lacedaemon, that made the ancient
laws and were so civilized, made toward living well a little
sign, compared with thee that makest such finespun provisions,
that to mid November reaches not, what thou in October spinnest.
How often in the time that thou rememberest, law, money, office,
and custom, hast thou changed, and renewed thy members! And if
thou mind thee well and see the light, thou wilt see thyself
resembling a sick woman, who cannot find repose upon the
feathers, but with her tossing seeks to relieve her pain.
repentance till they were overtaken by a violent death.--Efficacy
of prayer.--Sordello.--Apostrophe to Italy.
When a game of dice is broken up, he who loses remains sorrowful,
repeating the throws, and, saddened, learns; with the other all
the folk go along; one goes before and one plucks him from
behind, and at his side one brings himself to mind. He does not
stop; listens to one and the other the man to whom he reaches
forth his hand presses on him no longer, and thus from the throng
he defends himself. Such was I in that dense crowd, turning my
face to them this way and that; and, promising, I loosed myself
from them.
Here was the Aretine,[1] who from the fierce arms of Ghin di
Tacco had his death; and the other who was drowned when running
in pursuit. Here Federigo Novello [2] was praying with hands
outstretched, and he of Pisa, who made the good Marzucco seem
strong.[3] I saw Count Orso; and the soul divided from its body
by spite and by envy, as it said, and not for fault committed,
Pierre do la Brosse,[5] I mean; and here let the Lady of Brabant
take forethought, while she is on earth, so that for this she be
not of the worse flock.
[1] The Aretine was Messer Benincasa da Laterina, a learned
judge, who had condemned to death for their crimes two relatives
of Ghin di Tacco, the most famous freebooter of the day, whose
headquarters were between Siena and Rome. Some time after, Messer
Benincasa sitting as judge in Rome, Ghino entered the city with a
band of his followers, made his way to the tribunal, slew
Benincasa, and escaped unharmed.
[2] Another Aretine, of the Tarlati family, concerning whose
death the early commentators are at variance. Benvenuto da Imola
says that, hotly pursuing his enemies, his horse carried him into
a marsh, from which he could not extricate himself, so that his
foes turned upon him and slew him with their arrows.
[3] Federigo, son of the Count Guido Novello, of the
circumstances of whose death, said to have taken place in 1291,
nothing certain is known. Benvenuto says, he was multum probus, a
good youth, and therefore Dante mentions him.
[4] Of him of Pisa different stories are told. Benvenuto says, "I
have heard from the good Boccaccio, whom I trust more than the
others, that Marzucco was a good man of the city of Pisa, whose
son was beheaded by order of Count Ugolino, the tyrant, who
commanded that his body should remain unburied. In the evening
his father went to the Count, as a stranger unconcerned in the
matter, and, without tears or other sign of grief, said, 'Surely,
my lord, it would be to your honor that that poor body should be
buried, and not left cruelly as food for dogs.' Then the Count,
recognizing him, said astonished, 'Go, your patience overcomes my
obduracy,' and immediately Marzucco went and buried his son."
[5] Of Count Orso nothing is known with certainty.
[6] Pierre de is Brosse was chamberlain and confidant of Philip
the Bold of France. He lost the king's favor, and charges of
wrong-doing being brought against him he was hung. It was
reported that his death was brought about through jealousy by
Mary of Brabant, the second wife of Philip. She lived till 1321,
so that Dante's warning may have reached her ears.
When I was free from each and all those shades who prayed only
that some one else should pray, so that their becoming holy may
be speeded, I began, "It seems that thou deniest to me, O Light
of mine, expressly, in a certain text, that orison can bend
decree of Heaven, and this folk pray only for this, -- shall then
their hope be vain? or is thy saying not rightly clear to me?[1]
[1] Virgil represents Palinurus as begging to be allowed to cross
the Styx, while his body was still unburied and without due
funeral rites. To this petition the Sibyl answers:--Desine fata
Deum flecti sperare precando:--Cease to hope that the decrees of
the gods can be changed by prayer."--Aeneid, vi. 376.
And he to me, "My writing is plain, and the hope of these is not
fallacious, if well it is regarded with sound mind; for top of
judgment vails not itself because a fire of love may, in one
instant, fulfil that which he who is stationed here must satisfy.
And there where I affirmed this proposition, defect was not
amended by a prayer, because the prayer was disjoined from God.
But truly in regard to so deep a doubt decide thou not, unless
she tell thee who shall be a light between the truth and the
understanding.[1] I know not if thou understandest; I speak of
Beatrice. Thou shalt see her above, smiling and happy, upon the
summit of this mountain."
[1] The question, being one that relates to the Divine will,
cannot be answered with full assurance by human reason.
And I, "My lord, let us go on with greater speed, for now I mu
not weary as before; and behold now how the bill casts its
shadow." "We will go forward with this day," he answered, "as
much further as we shall yet be able; but the fact is of other
form than thou supposest. Before thou art there-above thou wilt
see him return, who is now hidden by the hill-side so that thou
dost not make his rays to break. But see there a soul which
seated all alone is looking toward us; it will point out to us
the speediest way." We came to it. O Lombard soul, how lofty and
scornful wast thou; and in the movement of thine eyes grave and
slow! It said not anything to us, but let us go on, looking only
in manner of a lion when he couches. Virgil, however, drew near
to it, praying that it would show to us the best ascent; and it
answered not to his request, but of our country and life it asked
us. And the sweet Leader began, "Mantua,"--and the shade, all in
itself recluse, rose toward him from the place where erst it was,
saying, "O Mantuan, I am Sordello of thy city,"[1]--and they
embraced each other.
[1] Sordello, who lived early in the thirteenth century, was of
the family of the Visconti of Mantua. He left his native land and
gave up his native tongue to live and write as a troubadour in
Provence, but his fame belonged to Italy.
Ah, servile Italy, hostel of grief! ship without pilot in great
tempest! not lady of provinces, but a brothel! that gentle soul
was so ready, only at the sweet sound of his native land, to give
glad welcome here unto his fellow-citizen: and now in thee thy
living men exist not without war, and of those whom one wall and
one moat shut in one doth gnaw the other. Search, wretched one,
around the shores, thy seaboard, and then look within thy bosom,
if any part in thee enjoyeth peace! What avails it that for thee
Justinian should mend the bridle, if the saddle be empty? Without
this, the shame would be less. Ah folk,[1] that oughtest to be
devout and let Caesar sit in the saddle, if thou rightly
understandest what God notes for thee! Look how fell this wild
beast has become, through not being corrected by the spurs, since
thou didst put thy hand upon the bridle. O German Albert, who
abandonest her who has become untamed and savage, and oughtest to
bestride her saddle-bows, may a just judgment from the stars fall
upon thy blood, and may it be strange and manifest, so that thy
successor may have fear of it! [2] For thou and thy father,
retained up there by greed, have suffered the garden of the
empire to become desert. Come thou to see Montecchi and
Cappelletti, Monaldi and Filippeschi,[3] thou man without care:
those already wretched, and these in dread. Come, cruel one,
come, and see the distress of thy nobility, and cure their hurts;
and thou shalt see Santafiora[4] how safe it is. Come to see thy
Rome, that weeps, widowed and alone, and day and night cries, "My
Caesar, wherefore dost thou not keep me company?" Come to see the
people, how loving it is; and, if no pity for us move thee, come
to be shamed by thine own renown! And if it be lawful for me, O
Supreme Jove that wast on earth crucified for us, are thy just
eyes turned aside elsewhere? Or is it preparation, that in the
abyss of thy counsel thou art making for some good utterly cut
off from our perception? For the cities of Italy are all full of
tyrants, and every churl that comes playing the partisan becomes
a Marcellus?[5]
[1] The Church-folk, the clergy, for whom God has ordained, --
"Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's."
[2] Albert of Hapsburg, son of the Emperor Rudolph, was elected
King of the Romans in 1298, but like his father never went to
Italy to he crowned. He was murdered by his nephew, John, called
the parricide, in 1308, at Konigsfelden. The successor of Albert
was Henry VII. of Luxemborg, who came to Italy in 1311, was
crowned at Rome in 1312, and died at Buonconvento the next year.
His death ended the hopes of Dante.
[3] Famous families, the first two of Verona, the last two of
Orvieto, at enmity with each other in their respective
cities,--types of a common condition.
[4]The Counts of Santafiora were once the most powerful
Ghibelline nobles in the Sienese territory. Their power had
declined since the Hohenstaufen Emperors had been succeeded by
the Hapsburgs, and they were now subjected to the Guelphs of
Siena.
[5] That is, a hitter opponent of the empire, as the Consul M.
Claudius Marcellus was of Caesar.
My Florence! surely thou mayst be content with this digression,
which toucheth thee not, thanks to thy people that for itself
takes heed. Many have justice at heart but shoot slowly, in order
not to come without counsel to the bow; but thy people has it on
the edge of its lips. Many reject the common burden, but thy
people, eager, replies without being called on, and cries, "I
load myself." Now be thou glad, for thou hast truly wherefore:
thou rich, thou in peace, thou wise. If I speak the truth, the
result hides it not. Athens and Lacedaemon, that made the ancient
laws and were so civilized, made toward living well a little
sign, compared with thee that makest such finespun provisions,
that to mid November reaches not, what thou in October spinnest.
How often in the time that thou rememberest, law, money, office,
and custom, hast thou changed, and renewed thy members! And if
thou mind thee well and see the light, thou wilt see thyself
resembling a sick woman, who cannot find repose upon the
feathers, but with her tossing seeks to relieve her pain.
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