Canto 29

The many people and the diverse wounds had so inebriated mine eyes that they were fain to stay for weeping. But Virgil said to me, “What art thou still watching? why is thy sight still fixed down there among the dismal mutilated shades? Thou hast not done so at the other pits; consider if thou thinkest to count them, that the valley circles two and twenty miles; and already the moon is beneath our feet; the time is little now that is conceded to us, and other things are to be seen than thou seest.” “If thou hadst,” replied I thereupon, “attended to the reason why I was looking perhaps thou wouldst have permitted me yet to stay.”

The many people and their varied wounds had so overwhelmed my eyes that I wanted to stay and weep. But Virgil said to me, “What are you still watching? Why are you still staring down at those dismal, mutilated shades? You did not do this at the other pits. If you mean to count them, remember that the valley is twenty-two miles around. And the moon is already beneath our feet. Little time remains for us, and there are other things to see.” “If you had paid attention to why I was looking,” I replied, “perhaps you would have let me stay longer.”

Meanwhile my Leader went on, and I behind him went, already waking reply, and adding, “Within that cavern where I just now was holding my eyes so fixedly, I think that a spirit of my own blood weeps the sin that down there costs so dear.” Then said the Master, “Let not thy thought henceforth reflect on him; attend to other thing, and let him there remain, for I saw him at the foot of the little bridge pointing at thee, and threatening fiercely with his finger, and I heard him called Geri del Bello.¹⁹⁵ Thou wert then so completely engaged on him who of old held Hautefort¹⁹⁶ that thou didst not look that way till he had departed.” “O my Leader,” said I, “the violent death which is not yet avenged for him by any who is sharer in the shame made him indignant, wherefore, as I deem, he went on without speaking to me, and thereby has he made me pity him the more.”

Meanwhile, my Leader went on, and I followed, already replying, “In the cavern where I was just staring, I think a spirit of my own blood weeps for the sin that costs so dearly down there.” Then the Master said, “Think no more about him. Attend to other things, and let him stay there. I saw him at the foot of the little bridge, pointing at you and threatening you fiercely with his finger. I heard him called Geri del Bello.¹⁹⁵ You were then so absorbed in the one who once held Hautefort¹⁹⁶ that you did not look that way until Geri had gone.” “O my Leader,” I said, “his violent death has not yet been avenged by anyone who shares in the shame. That made him indignant, and so, I think, he went on without speaking to me. That has made me pity him all the more.”

Thus we spake far as the place on the crag which first shows the next valley, if more light were there, quite to the bottom. When we were above the last cloister of Malebolge so that its lay brothers could appear to our sight, divers lamentations pierced me, that had their arrows barbed with pity; wherefore I covered my ears with my hands.

We talked as we walked to the point on the crag where the next valley first came into view. If there had been more light, we could have seen all the way to its bottom. We stood above the last cloister of Malebolge, where we could see its lay brothers. There, cries of suffering pierced me like arrows barbed with pity, so I covered my ears with my hands.

Such pain as there would be if, between July and September, from the hospitals of Valdichiana and of Maremma and of Sardinia¹⁹⁷ the sick should all be in one ditch together, such was there here; and such stench came forth therefrom, as is wont to come from putrescent limbs. We descended upon the last bank of the long crag, ever to the left hand, and then my sight became more vivid down toward the bottom, where the ministress of the High Lord—infallible Justice—punishes the falsifiers whom on earth she registers.

The suffering here was like what there would be if all the sick from the hospitals of Valdichiana, Maremma, and Sardinia¹⁹⁷ were gathered in one ditch between July and September. The stench was like that of rotting limbs. We descended along the last bank of the long crag, always keeping to the left. Then I could see more clearly down toward the bottom. There, infallible Justice, the servant of the High Lord, punishes the falsifiers she records on earth.

I do not think it was a greater sorrow to see the whole people in Egina sick, when the air was so full of pestilence that the animals, even to the little worm, all fell dead (and afterwards the ancient people, according as the poets hold for sure, were restored by seed of ants), than it was to see the spirits languishing in different heaps through that dark valley. This one over the belly, and that over the shoulders of another was lying, and this one, crawling, was shifting himself along the dismal path. Step by step we went without speech, looking at and listening to the sick, who could not lift their persons.

I do not think it was sadder to see all the people of Egina sick than to see the spirits suffering in separate heaps throughout that dark valley. In Egina, the air was so full of disease that all the animals died, even the smallest worms. Afterwards, according to the poets, the ancient people were certainly restored from the offspring of ants. In the valley, one spirit lay across another’s belly, and another across someone’s shoulders. Another crawled along the bleak path. We walked on step by step without speaking, watching and listening to the sick, who could not lift themselves.

I saw two seated leaning on each other, as pan is leaned against pan to warm, spotted from head to foot with scabs; and never did I see currycomb plied by a boy for whom his lord is waiting nor by one who keeps awake unwillingly, as each often plied the bite of his nails upon himself, because of the great rage of his itching which has no other relief. And the nails dragged down the scab, even as a knife the scales of bream or of other fish that may have them larger.

I saw two figures sitting and leaning against each other, like pans placed together to warm. They were covered in scabs from head to foot. Each scratched himself furiously with his nails, for the terrible itching had no other relief. Neither a boy grooming a horse while his master waits, nor one struggling to stay awake, ever worked a currycomb so hard. Their nails scraped off the scabs, just as a knife scrapes scales from a bream or another fish with larger scales.

“O thou, that with thy fingers dost dismail thyself,” began my Leader unto one of them, “and who sometimes makest pincers of them, tell me if any Latian¹⁹⁸ is among those who are here within: so may thy nails suffice thee eternally for this work.” “Latians are we whom here thou seest so defaced, both of us,” replied one weeping, “but thou, who art thou that hast asked of us?” And the Leader said, “I am one that descends with this living man down from ledge to ledge, and I intend to show Hell to him.” Then their mutual support was broken; and trembling each turned to me, together with others that heard him by rebound. The good Master inclined himself wholly toward me, saying, “Say to them what thou wilt;” and I began, since he was willing, “So may memory of you not steal away in the first world from human minds, but may it live under many suns, tell me who ye are, and of what race; let not your disfiguring and loathsome punishment fright you from disclosing yourselves unto me.” “I was from Arezzo,” replied one of them,¹⁹⁹ “and Albero of Siena had me put in the fire; but that for which I died brings me not here. True it is that I said to him, speaking in jest, I knew how to raise myself through the air in flight, and he, who had vain desire and little wit, wished that I should show him the art, and only because I did not make him Daedalus, made me be burned by one²⁰⁰ that held him as a son; but to the last pit of the ten, for the alchemy that I practiced in the world, Minos, to whom it is not allowed to err, condemned me.” And I said to the Poet, “Now was ever people so vain as the Sienese? surely not so the French by much.” Whereon the other leprous one, who heard me, replied to my words, “Except²⁰¹ Stricca who knew how to make moderate expenditure, and Niccolo, who first invented the costly custom of the clove²⁰² in the garden where such seed takes root; and except the brigade in which Caccia of Asciano wasted his vineyard and his great wood, and the Abbagliato showed his wit. But that thou mayest know who thus seconds thee against the Sienese, so sharpen thine eye toward me that my face may answer well to thee, so shalt thou see that I am the shade of Capocchio, who falsified the metals by alchemy; and thou shouldst recollect, if I descry thee aright, how I was a good ape of nature.”

“You there, tearing off your scabs with your fingers,” my Guide began to one of them, “and sometimes using them like pincers, tell me whether any Latian¹⁹⁸ is among those here. May your nails be enough for this work forever.” “We whom you see so disfigured here are both Latians,” one replied, weeping. “But who are you, asking us this?” The Guide said, “I am descending from ledge to ledge with this living man, and I mean to show him Hell.” At that, the two stopped supporting each other and turned trembling toward me. Others who overheard him did the same. The good Master turned fully toward me and said, “Say whatever you wish to them.” With his permission, I began, “May your memory not fade from human minds in the world above, but live on for many years. Tell me who you are and what families you come from. Do not let your disfiguring and loathsome punishment frighten you from telling me.” “I was from Arezzo,” one replied,¹⁹⁹ “and Albero of Siena had me burned. But what I died for did not bring me here. It is true that I told him, in jest, that I knew how to fly through the air. He had a foolish desire to fly and little sense, so he wanted me to teach him the art. Just because I did not make him a Daedalus, he had me burned by someone²⁰⁰ who treated him as a son. But Minos, who cannot make mistakes, condemned me to the last of the ten pits for practicing alchemy in the world.” I said to the Poet, “Was there ever a people as vain as the Sienese? Surely not even the French come close.” The other leper heard me and replied, “Except²⁰¹ Stricca, who knew how to spend moderately, and Niccolo, who first invented the expensive custom of using cloves²⁰² in the garden where such seed takes root. And except the brigade in which Caccia of Asciano squandered his vineyard and his great wood, and the Abbagliato displayed his wit. But so that you may know who is joining you against the Sienese, look closely at me. Study my face, and you will see that I am the shade of Capocchio, who falsified metals by alchemy. And if I recognize you correctly, you should remember what a good mimic of nature I was.”