Canto XI had been without event after its first nine lines (the visit to the tomb of Pope Anastasius). Since the action now picks up from there, some distance along the rim of the abyss (see Inf. XI.115), the poet reminds us of the last canto's opening description of a rocky ledge leading down, now adding a detail: there is something unpleasant on that slope. The reader's curiosity must wait until verse 12 (Inf. XII.12) to be slaked.

For the landslide near Trent (in northern Italy, carrying down into the river Adige) and discussion of it in Albertus Magnus, De meteoris, see Singleton's comment to these verses (XII.4-6): Benvenuto da Imola was the first to identify the landslide as that at Slavini di Marco and to mention Albert's reference to it. Opinion is divided as to whether Dante actually visited this landmark or had merely read about it in Albert's treatise, which was well known to him. This is the first simile since Inferno IX.112-117, thus creating the longest stretch in the poem between similes except for that between Paradiso VI.1 and VIII.15 (unless we were to count the brief comparison at Par. VII.8-9 as a simile).

'The infamy of Crete' is the Minotaur (only identified by name at Inf. XII.25), half man and half bull, conceived by the sexually venturesome Pasiphaë [wife of Minos, king of Crete] with a bull, when she placed herself in a wooden replica of a cow in order to enjoy a bovine embrace. See Purgatorio XXVI.87 for another reference to her on the Terrace of the purgation of lust. As Singleton points out in his commentary (to XII.12), the fact that the Minotaur is 'sprawling' indicates probably that he has four legs, as does the simile (Inf. XII.22-25) describing his enraged movements. If that is so, Dante has turned from the usual Classical understanding, which lends him a bull's head and a man's body, to develop his own version of the mythical creature, with a bull's body and the head of a man. For the Minotaur's appearance see the study by Botterill (“The Form of Dante's Minotaur,” Forum Italicum 22 [1988], pp. 60-76), who, almost alone, remains unconvinced that Dante's creature has a man's head and bull's body, and two articles by Achille Tartaro (“Il Minotauro, la 'matta bestialitade' e altri mostri,” Filologia e critica 17 [1992], pp. 161-86; “Il Minotauro e i Centauri,” in I “monstra” nell'“Inferno” dantesco: tradizione e simbologie [Spoleto: Centro italiano di studi sull'alto medioevo, 1997], pp. 161-76.).

The Minotaur had his labyrinthine home on Crete, where his violence was kept under some control by feeding to him a yearly tribute from Athens of seven maids and seven youths. Virgil taunts and thus distracts him, reminding him that he was killed by Theseus, instructed by the monster's 'sister' Ariadne and guided by her thread back through the labyrinth. Now Dante is of course no vengeful Theseus, nor has Virgil's purpose been to convince the Minotaur that he is, but to taunt him, reminding him of his maddening defeat and death.

Since the Minotaur is the first infernal guardian whom we meet within the walls of Dis (the rebel angels, the Furies, and the unseen Medusa were located on the city's ramparts in canto IX), we might want to consider in what way he is different from those we have met in the Circles of incontinence, Minos (the 'step-father' of the Minotaur, as it were – canto V), Cerberus (canto VI), and Plutus (canto VII). Like Charon (canto III) and Phlegyas (canto VIII), Minos has a general function, 'judging' all the damned souls who confess their besetting sins to him (Charon ferries all across Acheron, Phlegyas seems to be employed in replacing temporarily escaped sinners in the Styx). Thus only Cerberus (gluttony) and Plutus (avarice) would seem to represent a particular sin of incontinence. The Minotaur (and the matter is much debated) seems to represent the entire zone of Violence, as Geryon (canto XVI) will represent Fraud and the Giants (canto XXXI), Treachery. (There is no such figure for incontinence, perhaps because Charon and Minos at the beginning of the area in which incontinence is punished have taken up enough 'demonic' poetic space.) If this hypothesis is correct, then the Minotaur's function is precisely similar to that of Geryon and of the Giants, and he is the gatekeeper for the entire seventh Circle (see Inf. XII.32). For his connection to violence see Boccaccio's commentary (to XII.11-13): 'When he had grown up and become a most ferocious animal, and of incredible strength, they tell that Minos had him shut up in a prison called the labyrinth, and that he had sent to him there all those whom he wanted to die a cruel death.' Rossetti (comm. to XII.12-15) sees the Minotaur as being associated with all three sins of violence punished in this Circle: 'The Minotaur, who is situated at the rim of this tripartite circle, fed, according to myth, on human limbs (violence against one's neighbor); according to the poem [v. 14] was biting himself (violence against oneself) and was conceived in the “false cow” (violence against nature, daughter of God).'

Surely he is wrathful (this canto has more uses of the word ira [wrath] than any other: Inf. XII.15, Inf. XII.33, Inf. XII.49, Inf. XII.72). As was pointed out (see the note to Inf. VII.109-114), the wrath punished in Styx was intemperate wrath, a sin of passion and not of hardened will, while the sin punished here is Aquinas's third sort of anger, that which is kept alive for cold-blooded revenge. (For a similar opinion, which insists on the distinction between the incontinence of Filippo Argenti and the intentional, willful behavior that we witness here, see Christopher Becker, “Justice among the Centaurs,” Forum Italicum 18 [1984], p. 228.) And that is the sort of mad anger we see here, first in the Minotaur (who used to eat human flesh, we should remember, and who would like to have his revenge upon Theseus), then in the Centaurs, and finally in the sinners punished in this ring.

For discussions of monsters in Dante see Gérard Luciani (Les Monstres dans la “Divine Comédie” [Paris: Lettres Modernes, 1975]) and Virginia Jewiss (“Monstrous Movements and Metaphors in Dante's Divine Comedy,” Forum Italicum 32 [1998], pp. 332-46.). For a wider discussion of the 'monstrous imagination' see Marie-Hélène Huet, Monstrous Imagination (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1993).

The possible Virgilian source (Aen. II.223-224) of Dante's simile was perhaps first noted by Tommaseo (comm. to XII.22-24): Laocoön, dying beneath the assault of the twin serpents, bellows like a stricken bull that has momentarily escaped death and is now fleeing from the altar, because the axe of his executioner has been slightly off target, allowing him a few more minutes of life.

Dante's corporality is again brought to our attention; only he moves physical things, as Chiron will duly note at Inferno XII.81 (see the note to XII.76-82)

The ruina (rockslide), just now referred to in the fourth verse of this canto, is clearly meant to be understood as having been caused by the earthquake at the Crucifixion (see Matthew 27:51). For the problematic meaning of the first use of ruina in the poem see the note to Inf. V.34. Later Virgil will say that 'here and elsewhere' the rock was broken (Inf. XII.45), pointing us ahead to Inf. XXIII.137 and Inf. XXIV.24, where Dante and Virgil will traverse another pile of similarly fallen scree.

Wrath, punished in the Styx (the fifth Circle) is here distinguished from 'bestial' wrath that is the sign of a hardened will to do violence. As was the case in Inf. XI.83 (see the note to Inf. XI.76-90) Dante uses the word 'bestial' to increase the heinousness of a kind of sin. Wrath is a sin of Incontinence; 'bestial wrath,' a sin of Violence; fraud is a sin of malice, 'mad brutishness' (treachery) a sin of greater malice. The reader should be warned that this view is not shared by many commentators. See the notes to Inferno XI.22-27 and to XI.76-90.

See Inferno IX.22-27 where Virgil tells of his previous journey down through the underworld, when he was sent to the ninth Circle by the witch Erichtho (see the note to Inf. IX.19-27).

The phrasing of Dante's che la gran preda / levò a Dite (carried off from Dis the great spoil) is likely to echo a phrase in the hymn of the Cross of Venantius Fortunatus, 'Vexilla regis prodeunt' (The banners of the King come forward – cited by Dante at Inf. XXXIV.1), where Christ is described as having harrowed the souls of the Hebrew patriarchs and matriarchs from Limbo: 'praedam tulitque Tartari' (He bore off the great spoil of Tartarus). The passage was apparently first noted by Bianchi (comm. to XII.38-39).

'Dis' here refers to Lucifer: see Inferno XXXIV.20.

Virgil's explanation of what happened in the immediate aftermath of the Crucifixion shows a correct temporal and physical understanding (he, after all, actually witnessed these phenomena 53 years after he arrived in Limbo). However, his use of the Greek poet and philosopher Empedocles (ca. 492-430 B.C.) as authority shows his ingrained pagan way of accounting for one of Christianity's greatest miracles, Christ's ransoming of souls committed to hell. According to Empedocles (first referred to at Inf. IV.138), in addition to the four elements (earth, water, air, fire) there were two others, and these governed the universe in alternating movements of love (concord) and hatred (chaos). As chaos moves toward concord, crowned by love, that very order, momentarily established, at once recedes and moves back toward chaos. This 'circular' theory of history is intrinsically opposed to the Christian view, in which Christ's establishment of love as a universal principle redeemed history once and for all. In Virgil's apparent understanding, the climactic event in Christian history marked only the beginning of a (final?) stage of chaos. For an appreciation of the importance of Virgil's misunderstanding of the meaning of the Crucifixion see Lawrence Baldassaro (“Inferno XII: The Irony of Descent,” Romance Notes 19 [1978]), p. 101. For Dante's knowledge of Empedocles' theories through Aristotle, Albertus Magnus, and St. Thomas see Giorgio Stabile, 'Empedocle' (ED.1970.2), p. 667.

The sinners against their neighbors and/or their property are clearly identified as being guilty of the sin of violence, forza (force), the first area of malizia, according to Inferno XI.22-24.

The poet's apostrophe (see the similar ones at Inf. VII.19-21, Inf. XIV.16-18) would seem to identify two of the most immediate causes of violent acts, cupidity and wrath. See Guido da Pisa's comment to this passage: 'the violence that is inflicted on a neighbor arises either from cupidity or wrath' (comm. to XII.49-51).

Patrolling the river of blood (identified only later [Inf. XIV.116] as 'Phlegethon') from its bank are the Centaurs. Some early commentators saw in them a portrait of the bands of mercenary cavalrymen who were such an important feature of the horrendous wars of Dante's divided Italy. As Dante presents them they are seen as replicating their cruel habits as hunters in the world above. For their role as hunters, see Tartaro (“Il Minotauro, la 'matta bestialitade' e altri mostri,” Filologia e critica 17 [1992], p. 173), citing John of Salisbury, Policraticus I.iv.393d. The original centaurs, in Greek myths that came to Dante through various Latin poets, were the 'sons' of Ixion and a cloud made to resemble Juno, whom Ixion desired to ravish when Jupiter allowed him entrance to Olympus. His sperm, falling to earth, created 100 centaurs (their name reflects their number, 'centum,' and their airy beginning, 'aura,' or so believed some early commentators, e.g., Guido da Pisa [comm. to XII.55-56]; Pietro di Dante [Pietro1, comm. to XII.55-57], and John of Serravalle [comm. to XII.52-57]). Their career on earth involved attempted rape at the wedding feast of Pirithous and Hippodamia, where it was necessary for Hercules to intercede in order to disperse them. The centaurs represent the particular sin of violence to others, turned to God's use in punishing those mortals who also sinned in this way.

The centaurs take Virgil and Dante for wandering damned souls and one of them (we learn that this is Nessus at v. 67) challenges them. His words, 'Tell us from there. If not, I draw my bow' (Ditel costinci; se non, l'arco tiro), are probably modelled on Charon's to the armed figure of Aeneas (Aen. VI.389): 'fare age, quid venias, iam istinc, et comprime gressum' (tell me, even from there, why you come here, and hold your steps). The citation is perhaps first found in Daniello (comm. to XII.63).

Virgil accords greater authority to Chiron than to the other centaurs. Dante's view of him reflects the fact that he was not sired by Ixion's lust, but by the former Olympian-in-chief: 'Saturn, enamored of Philyra and fearing the jealousy of his wife, Rhea, changed himself into a horse and in this shape begat Chiron, who took the form of a centaur. Chiron educated Achilles, Aesculapius, Hercules, and many other famous Greeks, and Virgil knows at once that, because he is the wisest, he must be the leader of the band' (Singleton's commentary to XII.65]).

Nessus, on the other hand, is one of the Ixion-created centaurs. When he tried to rape Hercules' wife, Deianira, according to the ninth book of Ovid's Metamorphoses, the great hero shot him with a poisoned arrow as Nessus was crossing a stream with Deianira on his back. Dying, the centaur dipped a tunic into his own poisoned blood (thus explaining exactly what Dante meant when he says 'fashioned of himself his own revenge') and gave it to Hercules' wife, telling her that whoever put on that tunic would become enamored of her. Years later, when Hercules fell in love with Iole, Deianira gave him the tunic. He put it on, experienced excruciating pain, and committed suicide to end his agony. Vengeful, Nessus displays his connection to violence against others, and precisely that 'difficult' anger described by St. Thomas (see the note to Inf. VII.109-114). See the later reference to it, describing a sinner in the willful sin of wrath: 'de la vendetta ghiotto' (starving for revenge – Purg. XVII.122).

'Chiron's bowed head may be intended to suggest wisdom or an attitude of meditation, as most commentators believe, since he was considered to be the wisest of all the centaurs; but it also serves to direct the reader's gaze to the creature's breast, where its two natures, human and bestial, are joined' (Singleton, comm. to XII.70). For Chiron as teacher of Achilles see at least Statius (Achil. I.118).

Pholus, like Nessus, and unlike Chiron, whose violence is tempered (and thus made more effective?) by reason, has no better nature to recommend him. He, begotten by Ixion like Nessus, like Nessus died at the hands of Hercules in most of the various Latin versions of the tale that Dante knew, but as the result of an accident: he himself dropped one of Hercules' poisoned arrows on his foot and died.

More numerous than the classical centaurs (see the note to Inf. XII.56-57), Dante's number in the thousands, firing their arrows at any who rise more out of the river of blood than their guilt allows. We come to understand that degree of sinfulness controls the depth of immersion: sinners are variously swathed in blood up to their eyebrows (v. 103: murderous tyrants); throats (116: murderers); waists (121: plunderers); feet (125: unspecified).

Some commentators believe that Dante's conception of this river of blood was influenced by his experience as a cavalryman at the battle of Campaldino in 1289, when the slaughter made the rivulets crossing the terrain run with blood. For a description and analysis of that battle see Herbert L. Oerter, “Campaldino, 1289,” Speculum 43 (1968), pp. 429-50.

Chiron's remarks are put to the service of reminding the reader of the uniqueness of this fleshly visitor to hell. The 'realism' of the detail (when he is described as moving the bristles of his beard with an arrow) has understandably pleased many; it perhaps also forces us to wonder whether the demons of hell have a fleshly or only a spirit presence, for if Dante can move things with his body, apparently Chiron can also – his own beard with the nock of an arrow. This question is never confronted by Dante, who leaves the ontological status of the demons of hell unresolved.

One of the few references to Beatrice heard in hell. An appeal to such authority is perhaps made to Chiron in view of his unusual rational powers.

Virgil's request that one of the centaurs bear Dante on his back to cross over the river of blood will be answered indirectly, between vv. 114 and 115 (Inf. XII.114-115).

The 'tour' of the river of blood is only now ready to begin, under the guidance of Nessus, perhaps because Ovid had said of him that he was 'membrisque valens scitusque vadorum' (strong of limb and schooled in fording streams – Metam. IX.108).

Romano Penna (Paul the Apostle: Wisdom and Folly of the Cross, tr. Thomas P. Wall, vol. II [Collegeville, MN: The Liturgical Press, 1996 (1991)]), p. 276, believes that the description of the tyrants, up to their eyebrows in blood, derives from the Visio Pauli (31). Berthier (comm. [1892-97] to XII.103-106) cites the similar description in the vision (of hell and paradise) of the twelfth-century monk Alberico of Montecassino. According to Raoul Manselli, it is highly unlikely that Dante could have known this text (“Alberico,” ED.1970.1, p. 93).

With regard to tyrants Jacopo della Lana (comm. to Inf. XII.Nota), referring to Aristotelian discussions of governance, alludes to the distinction between good and bad individual rulers: 'Da uno solo può esser retta in due maniere. O quello uno rettore ha buona intenzione, e tutto suo volere è di amplificare lo bene e l'onore de' suoi cittadini: e questo tale è appellato Re. O elli ha tutta la contraria volontà d'estirpare e consumare lo bene e lo onore de' suoi cittadini. E questo è appellato tiranno, sicome dice Uguiccione: “tyrannus est pessimus et improbus rex, et dicitur a tyro, quod est angustia quod angustiat et cruciat suos”' (A single ruler may govern in two ways; either he has good intentions, acting with all his will so as to amplify the good and honor of his subjects (and he is referred to as a king), or he has the contrary desire, wishing to uproot and destroy the good and honor of his subjects. And such a ruler is referred to as a tyrant, just as Uguccione [da Pisa] says: 'a tyrant is a very bad, a wicked king, and the word derives from tyro, which is distress, because he distresses and tortures his subjects'). Dante's own negative view of tyrants, seen as serving themselves rather than the state which they govern, is found in Monarchia III.iv.10). For an overview of the historical/political interests reflected in canto XII see Umberto Carpi, “I tiranni (a proposito di Inf. XII),” L'Alighieri 12 (1998), pp. 7-31.

The first (and worst) group of the violent against others are the tyrants, including Alexander the Great and Dionysius the Elder of Syracuse. Both these identities are disputed, some modern commentators arguing for Alexander of Pherae, some for Dionysius the Younger, the son of the Elder. Singleton's notes to the passage offer convincing support for both traditional identifications (comm. to XII.107).

Ezzelino III da Romano (1194-1259), Ghibelline strongman in the March of Treviso in northern Italy, was, in Guelph eyes, a monster of cruelty. See Giovanni Villani's account of his misdeeds, cited by Singleton (comm. to XII.110). He is coupled with a Guelph, Òpizzo II d'Este (1247-1293), lord of Ferrara and a supporter of the French forces in Italy and of the Pope. His violence was rewarded in life by his murder at the hands of either his own and 'denatured' son or his illegitimate ('natural') offspring (the commentators are divided).

In handing Dante over to Nessus, Virgil does not tell him to 'mount up.' Yet this is what we should almost certainly understand is happening. The rest of the canto, until its final line, takes place with Dante looking down from Nessus' back. This is almost clear when we consider the next verse: 'A little farther on the centaur stopped.' Up to now the movements of Dante and Virgil have been noted as they made their way along; now it is the centaur's movement which is recorded. Why? Because Dante is sitting on his back. Why did the poet handle this part of the journey so delicately? Perhaps because he was aware that the scene would have been 'outrageous,' a Dante on horseback in hell, too much for a reader to accept. In such a view, he once again invites the reader to become his accomplice in making his fiction. (For discussion see Hollander, “Dante on Horseback? [Inferno XII, 93-126],” Italica 61 [1984], pp. 287-96

This slightly less bloodied crew contains 'mere' murderers, only one of whom is indicated (by periphrasis): Guy de Montfort (1243-1298), of royal English blood, in order to avenge his father Simon's murder killed his cousin, Henry of Cornwall in a church at Viterbo in 1271, supposedly while Henry was praying during the elevation of the Host. Henry's heart, returned to England, 'still drips with blood' because his murder was not avenged.

Those who rise higher out of the blood are generally understood to be the non-murderous violent. It seems likely that their counterpart group, perhaps 180^o across the river, is the final one referred to before the end of the canto (vv. 134-137). Dante recognizes many of the present group, thus perhaps asking us to understand that they are local Tuscan ruffians.

Although those who merely stand in blood are not further identified in any way, we may assume that they were the least destructive of those violent against the property of others, perhaps pickpockets and others of that ilk.

Not every reader notices that at this point Dante (astride Nessus's back, we may want to remember) crosses over the river of blood.

As he crosses toward the far side of the river (the one nearer to the center of hell) Nessus looks back over the area they have traversed (to their right), where the river grew increasingly shallow, and then looks left, where, he knows, the river bed gradually deepens until it reaches its lowest point, which coincides with the first place Dante saw, that in which the tyrants are punished. This information suggests that Dante and Virgil have traversed a semi-circle in order to reach this shallowest point, where they have forded the river. The unexplored run of the river thus also occupies 180^o of the circle.

The only group referred to in the unexplored bend of the river includes those whose violence was limited to property, the group parallel in placement to the third group seen by Dante in his journey along Phlegethon. This new group is situated roughly half way along the untraversed semi-circle. The five identified personages that he has already seen in the one he has traveled are in parallel with the five he will only hear described: Attila the Hun (ca. 406-453), Pyrrhus of Epirus (ca. 318-272 B.C.), and Sextus Pompeius Magnus (d. 35 B.C.), the son of Pompey the Great, who, according to Lucan, disgraced the family name when he turned pirate (Phars. VI.119-122). The identities of second two are sometimes disputed; one reason to think that they are as given here is that the resulting group of exemplary plunderers has in common its depredations of Rome. For a brief and clear representation of the various confusions among potential identities for Pyrrhus and Sextus see Botterill (“Inferno XII,” in Dante's “Divine Comedy”, Introductory Readings, I:“Inferno” [Special issue, Lectura Dantis Virginiana, vol. I], ed. T. Wlassics [Charlottesville, Va.: University of Virginia, 1990]), p. 156.

The 'moderns' are represented by two highwaymen named Rinier, both contemporaries of Dante. Rinier da Corneto worked the wild country around Rome, the Maremma, while Rinier Pazzo, dead by 1280, had his turf in the roads south of Florence and toward Arezzo.

His task accomplished, Nessus crosses back over the river of blood without a word. It seems clear that he would not have crossed over had he not been carrying Dante on his back.