Canto 14

“Who is this that circles our mountain ere death have given him flight, and opens and shuts his eyes at his own will?”¹⁷² “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,¹⁷³ and a hundred miles of coarse 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 Pelorus¹⁷⁴ is cut off, is so teeming that in few places it passes 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,¹⁷⁵ 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,¹⁷⁶ and at them disdainfully it twists its muzzle.¹⁷⁷ It goes on falling, and the more it swells so much the more the accursed and ill-fated ditch finds the dogs becoming wolves.¹⁷⁸ Descending then through many hollow gulfs, it finds foxes¹⁷⁹ 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.

“Who is this circling our mountain before death has given him flight, opening and closing his eyes as he pleases?”¹⁷² “I do not know who he is, but I know he is not alone. You are closer to him, so ask him. Speak gently, so that he will answer.” Two spirits on my right leaned toward each other and spoke about me. Then they turned their faces up to speak to me. One of them said, “O soul who travels toward heaven while still in your body, please comfort us. Tell us where you come from and who you are. We marvel at the grace you have been given, as anyone must at something that has never happened before.” I replied, “A little stream winds through the middle of Tuscany. It rises on Falterona,¹⁷³ and a hundred miles is not enough for its course. I bring this body from its banks. There would be no point in telling you who I am, for my name is not yet well known.” “If I understand you correctly,” replied the one who had spoken first, “you are speaking of the Arno.” The other said to him, “Why did he conceal the river’s name, as one does with horrible things?” The spirit he asked replied, “I do not know, but surely the name of such a valley deserves to perish. The river begins in a rugged mountain chain, from which Pelorus¹⁷⁴ is cut off. The chain there is so high that it rises higher in few places. From that source to the place where the river restores what heaven draws from the sea, all men drive virtue away like an enemy, as they would a snake. The rivers receive their waters from what heaven draws from the sea. The men of the valley do this either because of some misfortune of the place or because evil habits urge them on. So the inhabitants of that wretched valley have changed their nature. They seem to have fed at Circe’s trough. “The river first makes its poor way among foul hogs,¹⁷⁵ who are better suited to acorns than to human food. Then, as it descends, it finds curs that snarl more than their strength warrants,¹⁷⁶ and it turns its muzzle away from them in disdain.¹⁷⁷ It continues downhill, and the more it swells, the more the accursed and ill-fated ditch finds the dogs becoming wolves.¹⁷⁸ Then, descending through many deep hollows, it finds foxes¹⁷⁹ so full of deceit that they do not fear being trapped by cunning. I will not stop speaking, though someone else hears me. And it will be well for him if he later remembers what a truthful spirit reveals to me.

“I see thy grandson,¹⁸⁰ who becomes hunter of those wolves upon the bank of the fierce stream, and terrifies them all. He sells their flesh,¹⁸¹ it being yet alive; then he slays them, like an old wild beast; many of life, himself of honor he deprives. Bloody he comes forth from the dismal wood;¹⁸² he leaves it such, that from now for a thousand years, in its primal state it is not rewooded.” As at the announcement of grievous ills, the face of him who listens is disturbed, from whatsoever side the danger may assail him, so I saw the other soul, that was turned to hear, become disturbed and sad, when it had gathered to itself the words.

“I see your grandson,¹⁸⁰ who becomes a hunter of those wolves on the bank of the fierce stream. He terrifies them all. He sells their flesh¹⁸¹ while they are still alive. Then he kills them like an old wild beast. He robs many of their lives and himself of his honor. He comes out of the grim wood covered in blood.¹⁸² He leaves it so ravaged that it will not grow back as it once was for a thousand years.” When someone hears of terrible suffering, their face shows distress, whatever direction the danger may come from. So I saw the other soul, who had turned to listen, grow distressed and sad as he took in the words.

The speech of one and the look of the other made me wishful to know their names, and I made request for it, mixed with prayers. Wherefore the spirit which first had spoken to me began again, “Thou wishest that I abase myself in doing that for thee which thou wilt not do for me; but since God wills that such great grace of His shine through in thee, I will not be chary to thee; therefore know that I am Guido del Duca. My blood was so inflamed with envy, that had I seen a man becoming joyful, thou wouldst have seen me overspread with livid hue. Of my sowing I reap this straw. O human race, why dost thou set thy heart there where is need of exclusion of companionship?

The words of one and the look of the other made me want to know their names. So I pleaded with them to tell me. The spirit who had spoken to me first began again, “You want me to humble myself by doing for you what you will not do for me. But since God wills that his great grace shine through you, I will not withhold my name from you. Know, then, that I am Guido del Duca. My blood was so inflamed with envy that if I had seen someone becoming joyful, you would have seen me turn pale. From what I sowed, I reap this straw. O human race, why do you set your hearts on things that cannot be shared with others?

“This one is Rinier; this is the glory and the honor of the house of Calboli,¹⁸³ where no one since has made himself heir of his worth. And between the Po and the mountain,¹⁸⁴ and the sea¹⁸⁵ and the Reno,¹⁸⁶¹⁸⁷ not his blood alone has become stripped of the good required for truth and for delight; for within these limits the ground is so full of poisonous stocks, that slowly would they now die out through cultivation. Where is the good Lizio, and Arrigo Manardi, Pier Traversaro, and Guido di Carpigna? O men of Romagna turned to bastards! When in Bologna will a Fabbro take root again? When in Faenza a Bernardin di Fosco, the noble scion of a mean plant? Marvel not, Tuscan, if I weep, when I remember with Guido da Prata, Ugolin d’ Azzo who lived with us, Federico Tignoso and his company, the house of Traversara, and the Anastagi, (both the one race and the other is without heir), the ladies and the cavaliers, the toils and the pleasures for which love and courtesy inspired our will, there where hearts have become so wicked. O Brettinoro! why dost thou not flee away, since thy family hath gone, and many people, in order not to be guilty? Well doth Bagnacaval that gets no more sons; and ill doth Castrocaro, and worse Conio that takes most trouble to beget such counts. Well will the Pagani do when their Demon shall go from them;¹⁸⁸ yet not so that a pure report of them can ever remain. O Ugolin de’ Fantolin! thy name is secure, since one who, degenerating, can make it dark is no longer awaited. But go thy way, Tuscan, now; for now it pleases me far more to weep than to speak, so much hath our discourse wrung my mind.”

“This is Rinier, the glory and honor of the house of Calboli.¹⁸³ No one in his family since has inherited his worth. And between the Po and the mountain,¹⁸⁴ and the sea¹⁸⁵ and the Reno,¹⁸⁶¹⁸⁷ his family is not the only one to have lost the goodness needed for truth and delight. Within those borders, the ground is so full of poisonous plants that even careful cultivation would be slow to clear them away. Where are the good Lizio, Arrigo Manardi, Pier Traversaro, and Guido di Carpigna? O men of Romagna, turned to bastards! When will another Fabbro take root in Bologna? When will another Bernardin di Fosco grow in Faenza, a noble shoot from a humble plant? Do not be surprised, Tuscan, if I weep as I remember Guido da Prata and Ugolin d’ Azzo, who lived among us. I remember Federico Tignoso and his companions, and the houses of Traversara and Anastagi. Both families have no heirs. I remember the ladies and the knights, the labors and the pleasures that love and courtesy inspired us to pursue. And there, hearts have now become so wicked. O Brettinoro! Why do you not flee, since your family and many others have gone, so as not to share the guilt? Bagnacaval does well to have no more sons. Castrocaro does badly, and Conio does worse, taking the greatest trouble to produce such counts. The Pagani will do well when their Demon is gone.¹⁸⁸ Even so, their reputation can never again be free of stain. O Ugolin de’ Fantolin! Your name is safe, since no descendant is expected to disgrace it by falling into corruption. But go on your way now, Tuscan. Our talk has so troubled my mind that I would much rather weep than speak.”

We knew that those dear souls heard us go; therefore by silence they made us confident of the road. After we had become alone by going on, a voice that seemed like lightning when it cleaves the air, came counter to us, saying, “Everyone that findeth me shall slay me,”¹⁸⁹ and fled like thunder which rolls away, if suddenly the cloud is rent. Soon as our hearing had a truce from it, lo! now another with so great a crash that it resembled thunderings in swift succession: “I am Aglauros who became a stone.”¹⁹⁰ And then to draw me close to the Poet, I backward and not forward took a step. Now was the air quiet on every side, and he said to me, “That was the hard curb¹⁹¹ which ought to hold man within his bound; but ye take the bait, so that the hook of the old adversary draws you to him, and therefore little avails bridle or lure. Heaven calls you, and around you circles, displaying to you its eternal beauties, and your eye looks only on the ground; wherefore He who discerns everything scourges you.

We knew those dear souls heard us leave, so their silence reassured us that we were on the right path. After we had gone on and were alone, a voice came toward us. It seemed like lightning splitting the air as it cried, “Everyone who finds me will kill me,”¹⁸⁹ Then it faded like thunder rolling away after a cloud suddenly bursts. As soon as the sound died away, another voice came with a crash like rapid bursts of thunder: “I am Aglauros who became a stone.”¹⁹⁰ I stepped backward rather than forward, to draw closer to the Poet. Now the air was quiet all around us, and he said to me, “That was the harsh warning¹⁹¹ that should keep people within their limits. But you take the bait, so the hook of the old adversary draws you to him. Thus neither bridle nor lure does much good. Heaven calls you and circles around you, displaying its eternal beauties, but your eyes look only at the ground. For that reason, he who sees everything scourges you.