Canto 24

In that part of the young year when the sun tempers his locks beneath Aquarius,¹³⁴ and now the nights decrease toward half the day,¹³⁵ when the hoar frost copies on the ground the image of her white sister,¹³⁶ but the point of her pen lasts little while, the rustic, whose provision fails “gets up and sees the plain all whitened o’er, whereat he strikes his thigh, returns indoors, and grumbles here and there, like the poor wretch who knows not what to do; again goes out and picks up hope again, seeing the world to have changed face in short while, and takes his crook and drives forth his flock to pasture”: in like manner the Master made me dismayed, when I saw his front so disturbed, and in like manner speedily arrived the plaster for the hurt. For when we came to the ruined bridge, the Leader turned to me with that sweet look which I first saw at the foot of the mount.¹³⁷ He opened his arms, after some counsel taken with himself, looking first well at the ruin, and laid hold of me. And as one who acts and considers, who seems always to be ready beforehand, so lifting me up toward the top of a great rock, he took note of another splinter, saying, “Seize hold next on that, but try first if it is such that it may support thee.” It was no way for one clothed in a cloak, for we with difficulty, he light and I pushed up, could mount from jag to jag. And had it not been that on that precinct the bank was shorter than on the other side, I do not know about him, but I should have been completely overcome. But because all Malebolge slopes toward the opening of the lowest abyss, the site of each valley is such that one side rises and the other sinks.¹³⁸ We came, however, at length, up to the point where the last stone is broken off. The breath was so milked from my lungs when I was up that I could no farther, but sat me down on first arrival.

Early in the year, when the sun warms his hair beneath Aquarius,¹³⁴ and the nights are growing shorter, approaching half the length of the day,¹³⁵ frost copies the image of her white sister on the ground.¹³⁶ But the trace of her pen lasts only a little while. At such a time, a farmer whose supplies are running low “gets up and sees the plain covered in white. He strikes his thigh, goes back inside, and grumbles as he wanders about, like a poor wretch who does not know what to do. Then he goes out again and regains hope. He sees how quickly the world has changed its face, and takes his crook and drives his flock out to pasture.” In the same way, I was dismayed when I saw how troubled the Master looked. And just as quickly, relief came for my distress. When we reached the ruined bridge, the Leader turned to me with that same sweet look I had first seen at the foot of the mountain.¹³⁷ He studied the ruins and thought for a moment. Then he opened his arms and took hold of me. Like someone who plans as he acts and always seems prepared, he lifted me toward the top of a great rock. He spotted another projection and said, “Grab hold of that next, but first test whether it can support you.” This was no path for someone wearing a cloak. Even with him unburdened and me being pushed up, we could barely climb from one rocky point to the next. And if the bank had not been lower on this side than on the other, I cannot say what would have happened to him, but I would have been completely overcome. All of Malebolge slopes toward the opening of the lowest abyss. So each valley lies with one side rising and the other sinking.¹³⁸ At last, though, we reached the point where the last stone had broken off. The climb had drained so much breath from my lungs that I could go no farther. As soon as I arrived, I sat down.

“Now it behoves thee thus to put off sloth,” said the Master, “for, sitting upon down or under quilt, one attains not fame, without which he who consumes his life leaves of himself such trace on earth as smoke in air, or in water the foam. And therefore rise up, conquer the exhaustion with the spirit that conquers every battle, if by its heavy body it be not dragged down. A longer stairway needs must be ascended; it is not enough from these to have departed; if thou understandest me, now act so that it avail thee.” Then I rose up, showing myself furnished better with breath than I felt, and said, “Go on, for I am strong and resolute.”

“Now you must shake off your laziness,” said the Master. “No one wins fame while sitting on cushions or under a quilt. Without fame, a person who lives out their life leaves as much trace on earth as smoke in the air or foam on water. So get up and overcome your exhaustion with your spirit. The spirit wins every battle if the heavy body does not drag it down. You still have a longer stairway to climb. It is not enough to have left these behind. If you understand me, now act on what I have said.” Then I got up, pretending I was less out of breath than I felt, and said, “Go on, for I am strong and determined.”

Up along the crag we took the way, which was rugged, narrow, and difficult, and far steeper than the one before. I was going along speaking in order not to seem breathless, and a voice, unsuitable for forming words, came out from the next ditch. I know not what it said, though I was already upon the back of the arch that crosses here; but he who was speaking seemed moved to anger. I had turned downwards, but living eyes could not go to the bottom, because of the obscurity. Wherefore I said, “Master, see that thou go on to the next girth, and let us descend the wall, for as from hence I hear and do not understand, so I look down and shape out nothing.” “Other reply,” he said, “I give thee not than doing, for an honest request ought to be followed by the deed in silence.”

We climbed the crag by a rugged, narrow, difficult path, far steeper than the one before. I talked as I went, so I would not seem out of breath. A voice came from the next ditch, too garbled to form words. I could not tell what it said, though I was already on the crest of the arch that crosses the ditch. But the speaker seemed angry. I looked down, but living eyes could not see the bottom because of the darkness. So I said, “Master, please go on to the next ridge and let us climb down the wall. From here I can hear but cannot understand, and I can look down but cannot make anything out.” “I will answer you only by doing as you ask,” he said. “An honest request deserves to be granted without a word.”

We descended the bridge at its head, where it joins on with the eighth bank, and then the pit was apparent to me. And I saw therewithin a terrible heap of serpents, and of such hideous look that the memory still curdles my blood. Let Libya with her sand vaunt herself no more; for though she brings forth chelydri, jaculi, and phareae, and cenchri with amphisboena, she never, with all Ethiopia, nor with the land that lies on the Red Sea, showed either so many plagues or so evil.

We descended from the bridge where it joins the eighth bank, and I could see the pit. Inside, I saw a terrible heap of serpents. They looked so hideous that the memory still makes my blood run cold. Let Libya boast no more of her sands. Though she produces chelydri, jaculi, phareae, cenchri, and amphisboena, she has never shown so many plagues or such evil ones. Not even with all Ethiopia and the land along the Red Sea has she shown their like.

Amid this cruel and most dismal store were running people naked and in terror, without hope of hole or heliotrope.¹³⁹ They had their hands tied behind with serpents, which fixed through the reins their tail and their head, and were knotted up in front.

Among this cruel and dismal mass, naked people ran in terror, with no hope of a hiding place or heliotrope.¹³⁹ Their hands were tied behind them with serpents. The serpents drove their heads and tails through their lower backs and knotted them together in front.

And lo! at one, who was on our side, darted a serpent that transfixed him there where the neck is knotted to the shoulders. Nor O nor I was ever so quickly written as he took fire and burned, and all ashes it behoved him to become in falling. And when upon the ground he lay thus destroyed, the dust drew together of itself, and into that same one instantly returned. Thus by the great sages it is affirmed that the Phoenix dies, and then is reborn when to her five hundredth year she draws nigh. Nor herb nor grain she feeds on in her life, but only on tears of incense and on balsam, and nard and myrrh are her last winding-sheet.

Then a serpent darted at one of those on our side and pierced him where his neck meets his shoulders. He caught fire and burned faster than anyone could write an O or an I. As he fell, he was completely reduced to ashes. But when he lay destroyed on the ground, the dust gathered by itself and instantly became the same man again. So the great sages say that the Phoenix dies and is reborn as she approaches her five hundredth year. During her life, she eats neither herbs nor grain, but only drops of incense and balsam. Nard and myrrh are her final burial shroud.

And as he who falls and knows not how, by force of demon that drags him to ground, or of other attack that seizeth the man; when he arises and around him gazes, all bewildered by the great anguish that he has suffered, and in looking sighs, such was that sinner after he had risen. Oh power of God! how just thou art that showerest down such blows for vengeance!

Someone may fall without knowing how, dragged to the ground by a demon or struck by some other attack. When the person rises, they look around, bewildered by the great anguish they have suffered, and sigh as they look. That was how the sinner looked after he rose. Oh, power of God! How just you are to rain down such blows in vengeance!

The Leader asked him then who he was; whereon he answered, “I rained from Tuscany short time ago into this fell gullet. Bestial life, and not human, pleased me, like a mule that I was. I am Vanni Fucci, beast, and Pistoia was my fitting den.” And I to my Leader, “Tell him not to budge, and ask what sin thrust him down here, for I have seen him a man of blood and rages.” And the sinner who heard dissembled not, but directed toward me his mind and his face, and was painted with dismal shame. Then he said, “More it grieves me, that thou hast caught me in the misery where thou seest me, than when I was taken from the other life. I cannot refuse that which thou demandest. I am put so far down because I was robber of the sacristy with the fair furnishings, and falsely hitherto has it been ascribed to another.¹⁴⁰ But that thou enjoy not this sight, if ever thou shalt be forth of these dark places, open thine ears to my announcement and hear.¹⁴¹ Pistoia first strips itself of the Black, then Florence renovates her people and her customs. Mars draws a flame from Val di Magra wrapped in turbid clouds, and with impetuous and bitter storm shall it be opposed upon Campo Piceno, where it shall suddenly rend the mist, so that every White shall thereby be smitten. And this have I said because it must grieve thee.”

My Leader then asked him who he was. He answered, “I fell like rain from Tuscany into this cruel gullet a short time ago. I was like a mule, and a beast’s life pleased me more than a human one. I am Vanni Fucci, a beast, and Pistoia was a fitting den for me.” I said to my Leader, “Tell him not to move, and ask what sin brought him down here. I have known him as a man of bloodshed and rage.” The sinner heard me and made no attempt to hide. He turned his attention and his face toward me, and his face grew dark with shame. Then he said, “It pains me more that you have caught me in this misery than it did to die. I cannot refuse to answer your question. I am placed so far down because I robbed the sacristy of its fine furnishings. Until now, someone else has been falsely blamed for it.¹⁴⁰ But I do not want you to enjoy seeing me here. So, if you ever leave these dark places, listen carefully to what I have to tell you.¹⁴¹ Pistoia will first drive out the Black faction. Then Florence will renew her people and her customs. Mars will draw a flame from Val di Magra, wrapped in murky clouds. With a fierce and bitter storm, the flame will be met on Campo Piceno. There it will suddenly tear through the mist, so that every White will be struck down. And I have said this because it must grieve you.”