Già era dritta in sù la fiamma e queta
per non dir più, e già da noi sen gia
con la licenza del dolce poeta,
quand' un'altra, che dietro a lei venìa,
ne fece volger li occhi a la sua cima
per un confuso suon che fuor n'uscia.
Come 'l bue cicilian che mugghiò prima
col pianto di colui, e ciò fu dritto,
che l'avea temperato con sua lima,
mugghiava con la voce de l'afflitto,
sì che, con tutto che fosse di rame,
pur el pareva dal dolor trafitto;
così, per non aver via né forame
dal principio nel foco, in suo linguaggio
si convertïan le parole grame.
Ma poscia ch'ebber colto lor vïaggio
su per la punta, dandole quel guizzo
che dato avea la lingua in lor passaggio,
udimmo dire: “O tu a cu' io drizzo
la voce e che parlavi mo lombardo,
dicendo 'Istra ten va, più non t'adizzo'
perch' io sia giunto forse alquanto tardo,
non t'incresca restare a parlar meco;
vedi che non incresce a me, e ardo!
Se tu pur mo in questo mondo cieco
caduto se' di quella dolce terra
latina ond' io mia colpa tutta reco,
dimmi se Romagnuoli han pace o guerra;
ch'io fui d'i monti là intra Orbino
e 'l giogo di che Tever si diserra.”
Io era in giuso ancora attento e chino,
quando il mio duca mi tentò di costa,
dicendo: “Parla tu; questi è latino.”
E io, ch'avea già pronta la risposta,
sanza indugio a parlare incominciai:
“O anima che se' là giù nascosta,
Romagna tua non è, e non fu mai,
sanza guerra ne' cuor de' suoi tiranni;
ma 'n palese nessuna or vi lasciai.
Ravenna sta come stata è molt' anni:
l'aguglia da Polenta la si cova,
sì che Cervia ricuopre co' suoi vanni.
La terra che fé già la lunga prova
e di Franceschi sanguinoso mucchio,
sotto le branche verdi si ritrova.
E 'l mastin vecchio e 'l nuovo da Verrucchio,
che fecer di Montagna il mal governo,
là dove soglion fan d'i denti succhio.
Le città di Lamone e di Santerno
conduce il lïoncel dal nido bianco,
che muta parte da la state al verno.
E quella cu' il Savio bagna il fianco,
così com' ella sie' tra 'l piano e 'l monte,
tra tirannia si vive e stato franco.
Ora chi se', ti priego che ne conte;
non esser duro più ch'altri sia stato,
se 'l nome tuo nel mondo tegna fronte.”
Poscia che 'l foco alquanto ebbe rugghiato
al modo suo, l'aguta punta mosse
di qua, di là, e poi diè cotal fiato:
“S'i' credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria sanza più scosse;
ma però che già mai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
sanza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.
Io fui uom d'arme, e poi fui cordigliero,
credendomi, sì cinto, fare ammenda;
e certo il creder mio venìa intero,
se non fosse il gran prete, a cui mal prenda!,
che mi rimise ne le prime colpe;
e come e quare, voglio che m'intenda.
Mentre ch'io forma fui d'ossa e di polpe
che la madre mi diè, l'opere mie
non furon leonine, ma di volpe.
Li accorgimenti e le coperte vie
io seppi tutte, e sì menai lor arte,
ch'al fine de la terra il suono uscie.
Quando mi vidi giunto in quella parte
di mia etade ove ciascun dovrebbe
calar le vele e raccoglier le sarte,
ciò che pria mi piacëa, allor m'increbbe,
e pentuto e confesso mi rendei;
ahi miser lasso! e giovato sarebbe.
Lo principe d'i novi Farisei,
avendo guerra presso a Laterano,
e non con Saracin né con Giudei,
ché ciascun suo nimico era cristiano,
e nessun era stato a vincer Acri
né mercatante in terra di Soldano,
né sommo officio né ordini sacri
guardò in sé, né in me quel capestro
che solea fare i suoi cinti più macri.
Ma come Costantin chiese Silvestro
d'entro Siratti a guerir de la lebbre,
così mi chiese questi per maestro
a guerir de la sua superba febbre;
domandommi consiglio, e io tacetti
perché le sue parole parver ebbre.
E' poi ridisse: 'Tuo cuor non sospetti;
finor t'assolvo, e tu m'insegna fare
sì come Penestrino in terra getti.
Lo ciel poss' io serrare e diserrare,
come tu sai; però son due le chiavi
che 'l mio antecessor non ebbe care.'
Allor mi pinser li argomenti gravi
là 've 'l tacer mi fu avviso 'l peggio,
e dissi: 'Padre, da che tu mi lavi
di quel peccato ov' io mo cader deggio,
lunga promessa con l'attender corto
ti farà trïunfar ne l'alto seggio.'
Francesco venne poi, com' io fu' morto,
per me; ma un d'i neri cherubini
li disse: 'Non portar; non mi far torto.
Venir se ne dee giù tra ' miei meschini
perché diede 'l consiglio frodolente,
dal quale in qua stato li sono a' crini;
ch'assolver non si può chi non si pente,
né pentere e volere insieme puossi
per la contradizion che nol consente.'
Oh me dolente! come mi riscossi
quando mi prese dicendomi: 'Forse
tu non pensavi ch'io löico fossi!'
A Minòs mi portò; e quelli attorse
otto volte la coda al dosso duro;
e poi che per gran rabbia la si morse,
disse: 'Questi è d'i rei del foco furo';
per ch'io là dove vedi son perduto,
e sì vestito, andando, mi rancuro.”
Quand' elli ebbe 'l suo dir così compiuto,
la fiamma dolorando si partio,
torcendo e dibattendo 'l corno aguto.
Noi passamm' oltre, e io e 'l duca mio,
su per lo scoglio infino in su l'altr' arco
che cuopre 'l fosso in che si paga il fio
a quei che scommettendo acquistan carco.
Already was the flame erect and quiet,
To speak no more, and now departed from us
With the permission of the gentle Poet;
When yet another, which behind it came,
Caused us to turn our eyes upon its top
By a confused sound that issued from it.
As the Sicilian bull (that bellowed first
With the lament of him, and that was right,
Who with his file had modulated it)
Bellowed so with the voice of the afflicted,
That, notwithstanding it was made of brass,
Still it appeared with agony transfixed;
Thus, by not having any way or issue
At first from out the fire, to its own language
Converted were the melancholy words.
But afterwards, when they had gathered way
Up through the point, giving it that vibration
The tongue had given them in their passage out,
We heard it said: "O thou, at whom I aim
My voice, and who but now wast speaking Lombard,
Saying, 'Now go thy way, no more I urge thee,'
Because I come perchance a little late,
To stay and speak with me let it not irk thee;
Thou seest it irks not me, and I am burning.
If thou but lately into this blind world
Hast fallen down from that sweet Latian land,
Wherefrom I bring the whole of my transgression,
Say, if the Romagnuols have peace or war,
For I was from the mountains there between
Urbino and the yoke whence Tiber bursts."
I still was downward bent and listening,
When my Conductor touched me on the side,
Saying: "Speak thou: this one a Latian is."
And I, who had beforehand my reply
In readiness, forthwith began to speak:
"O soul, that down below there art concealed,
Romagna thine is not and never has been
Without war in the bosom of its tyrants;
But open war I none have left there now.
Ravenna stands as it long years has stood;
The Eagle of Polenta there is brooding,
So that she covers Cervia with her vans.
The city which once made the long resistance,
And of the French a sanguinary heap,
Beneath the Green Paws finds itself again;
Verrucchio's ancient Mastiff and the new,
Who made such bad disposal of Montagna,
Where they are wont make wimbles of their teeth.
The cities of Lamone and Santerno
Governs the Lioncel of the white lair,
Who changes sides 'twixt summer-time and winter;
And that of which the Savio bathes the flank,
Even as it lies between the plain and mountain,
Lives between tyranny and a free state.
Now I entreat thee tell us who thou art;
Be not more stubborn than the rest have been,
So may thy name hold front there in the world."
After the fire a little more had roared
In its own fashion, the sharp point it moved
This way and that, and then gave forth such breath:
"If I believed that my reply were made
To one who to the world would e'er return,
This flame without more flickering would stand still;
But inasmuch as never from this depth
Did any one return, if I hear true,
Without the fear of infamy I answer,
I was a man of arms, then Cordelier,
Believing thus begirt to make amends;
And truly my belief had been fulfilled
But for the High Priest, whom may ill betide,
Who put me back into my former sins;
And how and wherefore I will have thee hear.
While I was still the form of bone and pulp
My mother gave to me, the deeds I did
Were not those of a lion, but a fox.
The machinations and the covert ways
I knew them all, and practised so their craft,
That to the ends of earth the sound went forth.
When now unto that portion of mine age
I saw myself arrived, when each one ought
To lower the sails, and coil away the ropes,
That which before had pleased me then displeased me;
And penitent and confessing I surrendered,
Ah woe is me! and it would have bestead me;
The Leader of the modern Pharisees
Having a war near unto Lateran,
And not with Saracens nor with the Jews,
For each one of his enemies was Christian,
And none of them had been to conquer Acre,
Nor merchandising in the Sultan's land,
Nor the high office, nor the sacred orders,
In him regarded, nor in me that cord
Which used to make those girt with it more meagre;
But even as Constantine sought out Sylvester
To cure his leprosy, within Soracte,
So this one sought me out as an adept
To cure him of the fever of his pride.
Counsel he asked of me, and I was silent,
Because his words appeared inebriate.
And then he said: 'Be not thy heart afraid;
Henceforth I thee absolve; and thou instruct me
How to raze Palestrina to the ground.
Heaven have I power to lock and to unlock,
As thou dost know; therefore the keys are two,
The which my predecessor held not dear.'
Then urged me on his weighty arguments
There, where my silence was the worst advice;
And said I: 'Father, since thou washest me
Of that sin into which I now must fall,
The promise long with the fulfilment short
Will make thee triumph in thy lofty seat.'
Francis came afterward, when I was dead,
For me; but one of the black Cherubim
Said to him: 'Take him not; do me no wrong;
He must come down among my servitors,
Because he gave the fraudulent advice
From which time forth I have been at his hair;
For who repents not cannot be absolved,
Nor can one both repent and will at once,
Because of the contradiction which consents not.'
O miserable me! how I did shudder
When he seized on me, saying: 'Peradventure
Thou didst not think that I was a logician!'
He bore me unto Minos, who entwined
Eight times his tail about his stubborn back,
And after he had bitten it in great rage,
Said: 'Of the thievish fire a culprit this;'
Wherefore, here where thou seest, am I lost,
And vested thus in going I bemoan me."
When it had thus completed its recital,
The flame departed uttering lamentations,
Writhing and flapping its sharp-pointed horn.
Onward we passed, both I and my Conductor,
Up o'er the crag above another arch,
Which the moat covers, where is paid the fee
By those who, sowing discord, win their burden.
Ulysses' speech ends, his tongue of fire erect (i.e., not waving about [Inf. XXVI.85-89]) and stilled.
This innocent detail – Virgil's dismissal of Ulysses – will resurface at v. 21 with the addition of rather striking information about the language of Virgil's last words to Ulysses, uttered but not recorded here.
The next flame-enclosed shade, who will turn out to be a modern-day Ulysses, Guido da Montefeltro, was well known enough that he never has to be identified in more than indirect ways (vv. 67-78). Born ca. 1220, Guido was one of the great Ghibelline captains of the last third of the thirteenth century, winning a number of important victories for the nonetheless eventually unsuccessful Ghibelline cause. He was reconciled to the Church in 1286, but then took up his soldiering against the Guelphs once again, finally desisting only in 1294. In 1296 he joined the Franciscan order (v. 67). However, in the following year Pope Boniface VIII cajoled him into re-entering the world of military affairs, this time working against the Ghibellines (the Colonna family, which held the fortress of Palestrina, Roman Praeneste, as detailed in the text [vv. 85-111]). Guido died in 1298 in the Franciscan monastery at Assisi.
While other pairs of preceding cantos contain those who had committed the same sin (VII-VIII [the wrathful]; X-XI [heretics]; XV-XVI [sodomites]; XXIV-XXV [thieves]), only XXVI and XXVII treat two major figures guilty of the same sin, perhaps suggesting how closely Guido and Ulysses are related in Dante's imagination.
This simile is derived either from various histories (Pietro di Dante mentions Orosius and Valerius Maximus [Pietro1, comm. to vv. 7-12]) or from Ovid (Ars amatoria I.653-656). The ancient tyrant of Agrigento (in Sicily), Phalaris, had the Athenian Perillus construct for him a brazen bull in which he could roast his victims alive. Their screams were transformed into what resembled the bellowings of a bull. Once the instrument of torture was finished, Phalaris ordered that Perillus be its first victim, thus testing his handicraft. It worked. Ovid's moral to the story (Ars amatoria I.655-656) seems to be echoed in Dante's verse 8: 'there is no law more just than that the craftsman of death should die by his own handicraft.'
For studies of this simile see Richard Lansing (“Submerged Meanings in Dante's Similes [Inf. XXVII],” Dante Studies 94 [1976], pp. 61-69) and William Cook and Ronald Herzman (“St. Eustace: A Note on Inferno XXVII,” Dante Studies 96 [1976], pp. 137-39), the latter pointing to an inverse parallel, found in the Golden Legend, to the martyred St. Eustace.
These verses make clear for the first time how the mechanics of speech of the fraudulent counselors work; their words are formed by their tongues, within their fires, and then produced by the tips of their flames. When Guido first appeared (v. 6) he was apparently only mumbling about his pain within his flame.
Guido's address to Virgil not only insists that the Roman poet was speaking his (native – see Inf. I.68) Lombard, i.e., north Italian, dialect, but then offers in evidence his exact words. What are we to understand about the language in which Virgil first addressed Ulysses (Inf. XXVI.72-75)? Was it the same as this? Or is this, as seems more likely, the colloquial manner in which he sends him away? The entire problem has vexed many a commentator, and no simple resolution has as yet emerged. Now see Francesco Bruni (“Istra: una falsa ricostruzione dantesca?” in Omaggio a Gianfranco Folena, ed. Pier Vincenzo Mengaldo [Padua: Editoriale Programma, 1993], pp. 419-28) on the problems associated with finding any attested presence of the term, in this form, in Dante's Italy and the possibility that it is a Dantean coinage.
Perhaps because he cannot see clearly from within his flame, Guido cannot tell whether Virgil (or Dante, for that matter) is a living soul or a dead fellow-sinner, just now come down from Italy to spend eternity here. The reason for Dante's insistence on this detail will be made plain when Guido reveals himself only because he does not believe that Dante will ever resurface to tell his miserable story.
When Guido died (1298) the peace in Romagna had not yet been confirmed, as it was the following year (see Torraca's comm. to Inf. XXVII.39). The region of Romagna is situated in the eastern north-central part of Italy.
Not only is Guido an Italian (latino), he is that Italian whom Dante had designated as most noble (lo nobilissimo nostro latino) in Convivio IV.xxviii.8. Commentators have been concerned about this apparent contradiction; for an attempt to mitigate it see Lino Pertile, “Inferno XXVII. Il peccato di Guido da Montefeltro,” Atti dell'Istituto Veneto di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti 141 (1982-83), pp. 171-75. If, however, Dante had changed his mind about a number of his positions in Convivio, as others believe, there is no reason to find the contradiction anything less than intentional. Further, he may not have known of Guido's involvement with Boniface when he wrote the passage praising him in Convivio. See the note to Inferno XXVII.106-111.
Virgil's passing the questioning of Guido (a modern) over to Dante reminds us of his insisting on it for Ulysses (an ancient) in the previous canto (Inf. XXVI.73-75).
Dante's reference to Romagna answers Guido's first question: there is peace – of a sort – there now.
Dante now enlightens Guido (and only an expert in the political and geographical lore of the region would understand his elliptical speech) about the condition of seven cities and fortified towns of Romagna, governed by various tyrants: Ravenna, Cervia, Forlì, Rimini, Faenza, Imola, and Cesena. Guido had been in military action in many of them, with mixed results.
Having answered some of Guido's concerns (whom he as yet does not recognize), Dante asks for a similar favor, offering fame in the world as a reward.
Guido's response, made familiar to English readers by T. S. Eliot as the epigraph to The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, makes it clear that, for him, report among the living would bring infamy, not fame. Since he believes that Dante is a damned soul, and thus unable to regain the world of the living, he will speak. For the ingenious argument that Guido knows that Dante is alive, only feigning that he does not in order to concoct a self-favoring narrative that Dante will carry back to the world, see Joseph Markulin (“Dante's Guido da Montefeltro: A Reconsideration,” Dante Studies 100 [1982], pp. 25-40). The first view seems unlikely, because the poet spends so much time with the details of Guido's lack of knowledge of Dante's condition; the second, because the tale he tells is in fact damning enough.
Guido sums up his life in a single line: he went from bad to good. In fact, he went from bad to good to bad again. Dante may have reflected that his own life was exactly the opposite in its movements, from good to bad, but then from bad to good. Guido did not have a Beatrice to lead him back to the true path, only a Boniface.
Boniface VIII, according to Guido, led him from his life of religious retreat back into political machinations. Like Francesca da Rimini, Guido da Montefeltro blames his fall upon another; like her he will tell Dante the reasons for it (see Inf. V.119, where Dante asks Francesca to tell 'a che e come' (how and by what signs) she came into Love's power; Guido will tell Dante 'e come e quare' [Latin 'why,' more precisely 'in what respect'] (how and why) the reasons for his fall into perdition.
According to contemporary documents, Guido was actually referred to as 'the fox.' His quality of astutia, or 'cunning,' further identifies him with Ulysses (see the note to Inf. XXVI.58-63). For astutia as an attribute of Guido's personality, see Lino Pertile, “Inferno XXVII. Il peccato di Guido da Montefeltro,” Atti dell'Istituto Veneto di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti 141 (1982-83), pp. 166-70.
Guido's nautical metaphors clearly relate him, perhaps more plainly than before, to Ulysses. For the curious notice on the part of Filippo Villani (in his life of Guido Bonatti) that Guido da Montefeltro was 'full of all cunning [astutia]' and that he was known among the Italians as 'the new Ulysses' see Hollander (“The Tragedy of Divination in Inferno XX,” in Studies in Dante [Ravenna: Longo, 1980]), p. 142. This would suggest either that, in Dante's day, Guido was actually referred to in this way, or that Filippo, an impassioned reader of Dante, is freely interpreting the reason for the juxtaposition of these two great figures in Inferno.
Guido speaks of his contrition, confession, and satisfaction as though they were the merest of conveniences to attain an end. Do we believe, on the strength of this account, that he had actually fooled God?
Guido's vicious slam of Boniface, with its concomitant enthusiasm for the abandoned devotion to crusading, is not in any respect at odds with Dante's own thoughts. Boniface is attacking Palestrina and its Christian inhabitants, none of whom had joined the Saracens in their re-taking of Acre in 1291, until then the only remaining Christian possession in the Holy Land, or gone there only to do business with the enemy. Instead of attacking the infidel (or back-sliding Christians) he moves against his co-religionists. For a quite different view, one which holds that Dante was in fact critical of earlier papal exhortations to engage in crusading, see Brenda Deen Schildgen, “Dante and the Crusades,” Dante Studies 116 (1998), pp. 95-125.
Boniface cares nothing for Christians, according to Guido (and Dante). Not only does he not oppose the heathen in order to make war on his own, he does not honor his own holy orders, nor those of Guido the friar. The use of the term capestro (cord) here has implications for those who believe that the corda at Inferno XVI.106 is a reference to Dante's status as a Franciscan. (See the note to Inf. XVI.106-108.)
In the fourth century Constantine, suffering from leprosy, had Pope Sylvester I brought to him from his cave on Soracte (where he was in hiding because of Constantine's persecution of Christians) to cure him. When the pontiff did so, Constantine converted to Christianity (and ended up in paradise, according to Dante [Par. XX.55-60]); but he also out of gratitude gave Sylvester authority over the western empire, centered in the city of Rome. (See the note to Inf. XIX.115-117.)
Penestrino is modern Palestrina and was ancient Praeneste. The Colonna family were in rebellion against Boniface's authority and had defended themselves in this fortress.
Boniface's claim is utterly false, as Guido will learn. His reference to Celestine V here makes it seem all the more likely that it is he who is referred to in Inferno III.59-60 (see the note to Inf. III.58-60).
Silence as a defensive weapon against this pope was probably the only way out; but his imposing insistence was too much for Guido, and he makes his bargain.
A continuing debate follows verse 110. Did Dante read these words in chroniclers who preceded him (e.g., Riccobaldo of Ferrara, Francesco Pipino of Bologna, both of whom wrote before 1313, if we are not sure exactly when), or did they get them from Dante? For the key texts in the dispute see Singleton (comm. to Inf. XXVII.67). Some contemporary commentators (e.g., Bosco, introductory note to Inf. XXVII) favor the precedence of Riccobaldo's chronicle, perhaps written between 1308 and 1313, and believe that Dante's account (and revision of his former positive view of Guido) derive from it.
Markulin (“Dante's Guido da Montefeltro: A Reconsideration,” Dante Studies 100 [1982], pp. 25-40) considers the possibility that Guido has invented the battle between St. Francis and the black Cherub (a member of the second highest rank of angels, associated with knowledge). Discomfort with the scene has been abroad for a while. Castelvetro (comm. to verse 114) did not hide his annoyance, seeing that Dante had portrayed the soul of Francis as having made an error in thinking that Guido was to be saved and thus could not possibly have been sent from heaven by God (and was consequently wasting his time), for which reasons he criticizes Dante for not speaking with greater reverence.
Guido's son Bonconte will be caught up in a similar struggle between devil and angel, with the angel winning (Purg. V.104-105). Such a scene may find justification in medieval popularizing art, but Castelvetro is right to complain about its theological absurdities. On the other hand, Dante is writing a poem and not a treatise. That he repeats the motif would seem to indicate that we are meant to take it 'seriously.' See the note to Inf. XXIII.131.
Perhaps the most discussed issue in these two neighboring cantos is developed from this verse. What precisely is 'fraudulent advice' (consiglio frodolente)? Is it the sin that condemns Guido? Is Ulysses, in the previous canto, condemned for the same sin? Fraudulent counsel is giving someone evil advice (whether or not it is effective advice) or acting in such fraudulent ways as to lead others into harming themselves. Since Virgil leaves the sins of the eighth and ninth bolgia unnamed (see Inf. XI.52-60 and note), this is the only indication we have for a clear determination of the sin punished in these two cantos. Any other solution seems less satisfactory, if there have been many who have been eager to try to find one. The American debate in the last century was initiated by Anna Hatcher's claim (“Dante's Ulysses and Guido da Montefeltro,” Dante Studies 88 [1970], pp. 109-17) that Guido's sin was not false counsel; her view was countered by James G. Truscott (“Ulysses and Guido,” Dante Studies 91 [1973], pp. 47-72), but then affirmed by Markulin (“Dante's Guido da Montefeltro: A Reconsideration,” Dante Studies 100 [1982], pp. 25-40). As the reader has noted, debates about the nature of the precise sins referred to in various passages (e.g., Inf. VII, XI, XV [see discussions at the notes to Inf. VII.118-126; Inf. XI.76-90; and Inf. XV.13-21]) are a fairly frequent feature of Dante studies and often involve considerable ingenuity.
While Dante, in Convivio III.xiii.2, clearly states that fallen angels cannot philosophize, since love is a basic requirement of true philosophizing and they are without love, it is clear that they can use logic, one of the tools of philosophy.
This fallen angel does the 'right thing' and stops his descent with his victim at Minos. See the note to Inf. XXI.39.
Unlike Ulysses, who ends his speech with a certain majesty, Guido insists upon his bitterness, realizing eternally his foolishness in his having given over his chance for love and salvation when he did the bidding of Boniface. The canto opens with Ulysses' flame calm and steady (vv. 1-2) and ends with that of Guido writhing.
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Già era dritta in sù la fiamma e queta
per non dir più, e già da noi sen gia
con la licenza del dolce poeta,
quand' un'altra, che dietro a lei venìa,
ne fece volger li occhi a la sua cima
per un confuso suon che fuor n'uscia.
Come 'l bue cicilian che mugghiò prima
col pianto di colui, e ciò fu dritto,
che l'avea temperato con sua lima,
mugghiava con la voce de l'afflitto,
sì che, con tutto che fosse di rame,
pur el pareva dal dolor trafitto;
così, per non aver via né forame
dal principio nel foco, in suo linguaggio
si convertïan le parole grame.
Ma poscia ch'ebber colto lor vïaggio
su per la punta, dandole quel guizzo
che dato avea la lingua in lor passaggio,
udimmo dire: “O tu a cu' io drizzo
la voce e che parlavi mo lombardo,
dicendo 'Istra ten va, più non t'adizzo'
perch' io sia giunto forse alquanto tardo,
non t'incresca restare a parlar meco;
vedi che non incresce a me, e ardo!
Se tu pur mo in questo mondo cieco
caduto se' di quella dolce terra
latina ond' io mia colpa tutta reco,
dimmi se Romagnuoli han pace o guerra;
ch'io fui d'i monti là intra Orbino
e 'l giogo di che Tever si diserra.”
Io era in giuso ancora attento e chino,
quando il mio duca mi tentò di costa,
dicendo: “Parla tu; questi è latino.”
E io, ch'avea già pronta la risposta,
sanza indugio a parlare incominciai:
“O anima che se' là giù nascosta,
Romagna tua non è, e non fu mai,
sanza guerra ne' cuor de' suoi tiranni;
ma 'n palese nessuna or vi lasciai.
Ravenna sta come stata è molt' anni:
l'aguglia da Polenta la si cova,
sì che Cervia ricuopre co' suoi vanni.
La terra che fé già la lunga prova
e di Franceschi sanguinoso mucchio,
sotto le branche verdi si ritrova.
E 'l mastin vecchio e 'l nuovo da Verrucchio,
che fecer di Montagna il mal governo,
là dove soglion fan d'i denti succhio.
Le città di Lamone e di Santerno
conduce il lïoncel dal nido bianco,
che muta parte da la state al verno.
E quella cu' il Savio bagna il fianco,
così com' ella sie' tra 'l piano e 'l monte,
tra tirannia si vive e stato franco.
Ora chi se', ti priego che ne conte;
non esser duro più ch'altri sia stato,
se 'l nome tuo nel mondo tegna fronte.”
Poscia che 'l foco alquanto ebbe rugghiato
al modo suo, l'aguta punta mosse
di qua, di là, e poi diè cotal fiato:
“S'i' credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria sanza più scosse;
ma però che già mai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
sanza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.
Io fui uom d'arme, e poi fui cordigliero,
credendomi, sì cinto, fare ammenda;
e certo il creder mio venìa intero,
se non fosse il gran prete, a cui mal prenda!,
che mi rimise ne le prime colpe;
e come e quare, voglio che m'intenda.
Mentre ch'io forma fui d'ossa e di polpe
che la madre mi diè, l'opere mie
non furon leonine, ma di volpe.
Li accorgimenti e le coperte vie
io seppi tutte, e sì menai lor arte,
ch'al fine de la terra il suono uscie.
Quando mi vidi giunto in quella parte
di mia etade ove ciascun dovrebbe
calar le vele e raccoglier le sarte,
ciò che pria mi piacëa, allor m'increbbe,
e pentuto e confesso mi rendei;
ahi miser lasso! e giovato sarebbe.
Lo principe d'i novi Farisei,
avendo guerra presso a Laterano,
e non con Saracin né con Giudei,
ché ciascun suo nimico era cristiano,
e nessun era stato a vincer Acri
né mercatante in terra di Soldano,
né sommo officio né ordini sacri
guardò in sé, né in me quel capestro
che solea fare i suoi cinti più macri.
Ma come Costantin chiese Silvestro
d'entro Siratti a guerir de la lebbre,
così mi chiese questi per maestro
a guerir de la sua superba febbre;
domandommi consiglio, e io tacetti
perché le sue parole parver ebbre.
E' poi ridisse: 'Tuo cuor non sospetti;
finor t'assolvo, e tu m'insegna fare
sì come Penestrino in terra getti.
Lo ciel poss' io serrare e diserrare,
come tu sai; però son due le chiavi
che 'l mio antecessor non ebbe care.'
Allor mi pinser li argomenti gravi
là 've 'l tacer mi fu avviso 'l peggio,
e dissi: 'Padre, da che tu mi lavi
di quel peccato ov' io mo cader deggio,
lunga promessa con l'attender corto
ti farà trïunfar ne l'alto seggio.'
Francesco venne poi, com' io fu' morto,
per me; ma un d'i neri cherubini
li disse: 'Non portar; non mi far torto.
Venir se ne dee giù tra ' miei meschini
perché diede 'l consiglio frodolente,
dal quale in qua stato li sono a' crini;
ch'assolver non si può chi non si pente,
né pentere e volere insieme puossi
per la contradizion che nol consente.'
Oh me dolente! come mi riscossi
quando mi prese dicendomi: 'Forse
tu non pensavi ch'io löico fossi!'
A Minòs mi portò; e quelli attorse
otto volte la coda al dosso duro;
e poi che per gran rabbia la si morse,
disse: 'Questi è d'i rei del foco furo';
per ch'io là dove vedi son perduto,
e sì vestito, andando, mi rancuro.”
Quand' elli ebbe 'l suo dir così compiuto,
la fiamma dolorando si partio,
torcendo e dibattendo 'l corno aguto.
Noi passamm' oltre, e io e 'l duca mio,
su per lo scoglio infino in su l'altr' arco
che cuopre 'l fosso in che si paga il fio
a quei che scommettendo acquistan carco.
Already was the flame erect and quiet,
To speak no more, and now departed from us
With the permission of the gentle Poet;
When yet another, which behind it came,
Caused us to turn our eyes upon its top
By a confused sound that issued from it.
As the Sicilian bull (that bellowed first
With the lament of him, and that was right,
Who with his file had modulated it)
Bellowed so with the voice of the afflicted,
That, notwithstanding it was made of brass,
Still it appeared with agony transfixed;
Thus, by not having any way or issue
At first from out the fire, to its own language
Converted were the melancholy words.
But afterwards, when they had gathered way
Up through the point, giving it that vibration
The tongue had given them in their passage out,
We heard it said: "O thou, at whom I aim
My voice, and who but now wast speaking Lombard,
Saying, 'Now go thy way, no more I urge thee,'
Because I come perchance a little late,
To stay and speak with me let it not irk thee;
Thou seest it irks not me, and I am burning.
If thou but lately into this blind world
Hast fallen down from that sweet Latian land,
Wherefrom I bring the whole of my transgression,
Say, if the Romagnuols have peace or war,
For I was from the mountains there between
Urbino and the yoke whence Tiber bursts."
I still was downward bent and listening,
When my Conductor touched me on the side,
Saying: "Speak thou: this one a Latian is."
And I, who had beforehand my reply
In readiness, forthwith began to speak:
"O soul, that down below there art concealed,
Romagna thine is not and never has been
Without war in the bosom of its tyrants;
But open war I none have left there now.
Ravenna stands as it long years has stood;
The Eagle of Polenta there is brooding,
So that she covers Cervia with her vans.
The city which once made the long resistance,
And of the French a sanguinary heap,
Beneath the Green Paws finds itself again;
Verrucchio's ancient Mastiff and the new,
Who made such bad disposal of Montagna,
Where they are wont make wimbles of their teeth.
The cities of Lamone and Santerno
Governs the Lioncel of the white lair,
Who changes sides 'twixt summer-time and winter;
And that of which the Savio bathes the flank,
Even as it lies between the plain and mountain,
Lives between tyranny and a free state.
Now I entreat thee tell us who thou art;
Be not more stubborn than the rest have been,
So may thy name hold front there in the world."
After the fire a little more had roared
In its own fashion, the sharp point it moved
This way and that, and then gave forth such breath:
"If I believed that my reply were made
To one who to the world would e'er return,
This flame without more flickering would stand still;
But inasmuch as never from this depth
Did any one return, if I hear true,
Without the fear of infamy I answer,
I was a man of arms, then Cordelier,
Believing thus begirt to make amends;
And truly my belief had been fulfilled
But for the High Priest, whom may ill betide,
Who put me back into my former sins;
And how and wherefore I will have thee hear.
While I was still the form of bone and pulp
My mother gave to me, the deeds I did
Were not those of a lion, but a fox.
The machinations and the covert ways
I knew them all, and practised so their craft,
That to the ends of earth the sound went forth.
When now unto that portion of mine age
I saw myself arrived, when each one ought
To lower the sails, and coil away the ropes,
That which before had pleased me then displeased me;
And penitent and confessing I surrendered,
Ah woe is me! and it would have bestead me;
The Leader of the modern Pharisees
Having a war near unto Lateran,
And not with Saracens nor with the Jews,
For each one of his enemies was Christian,
And none of them had been to conquer Acre,
Nor merchandising in the Sultan's land,
Nor the high office, nor the sacred orders,
In him regarded, nor in me that cord
Which used to make those girt with it more meagre;
But even as Constantine sought out Sylvester
To cure his leprosy, within Soracte,
So this one sought me out as an adept
To cure him of the fever of his pride.
Counsel he asked of me, and I was silent,
Because his words appeared inebriate.
And then he said: 'Be not thy heart afraid;
Henceforth I thee absolve; and thou instruct me
How to raze Palestrina to the ground.
Heaven have I power to lock and to unlock,
As thou dost know; therefore the keys are two,
The which my predecessor held not dear.'
Then urged me on his weighty arguments
There, where my silence was the worst advice;
And said I: 'Father, since thou washest me
Of that sin into which I now must fall,
The promise long with the fulfilment short
Will make thee triumph in thy lofty seat.'
Francis came afterward, when I was dead,
For me; but one of the black Cherubim
Said to him: 'Take him not; do me no wrong;
He must come down among my servitors,
Because he gave the fraudulent advice
From which time forth I have been at his hair;
For who repents not cannot be absolved,
Nor can one both repent and will at once,
Because of the contradiction which consents not.'
O miserable me! how I did shudder
When he seized on me, saying: 'Peradventure
Thou didst not think that I was a logician!'
He bore me unto Minos, who entwined
Eight times his tail about his stubborn back,
And after he had bitten it in great rage,
Said: 'Of the thievish fire a culprit this;'
Wherefore, here where thou seest, am I lost,
And vested thus in going I bemoan me."
When it had thus completed its recital,
The flame departed uttering lamentations,
Writhing and flapping its sharp-pointed horn.
Onward we passed, both I and my Conductor,
Up o'er the crag above another arch,
Which the moat covers, where is paid the fee
By those who, sowing discord, win their burden.
Ulysses' speech ends, his tongue of fire erect (i.e., not waving about [Inf. XXVI.85-89]) and stilled.
This innocent detail – Virgil's dismissal of Ulysses – will resurface at v. 21 with the addition of rather striking information about the language of Virgil's last words to Ulysses, uttered but not recorded here.
The next flame-enclosed shade, who will turn out to be a modern-day Ulysses, Guido da Montefeltro, was well known enough that he never has to be identified in more than indirect ways (vv. 67-78). Born ca. 1220, Guido was one of the great Ghibelline captains of the last third of the thirteenth century, winning a number of important victories for the nonetheless eventually unsuccessful Ghibelline cause. He was reconciled to the Church in 1286, but then took up his soldiering against the Guelphs once again, finally desisting only in 1294. In 1296 he joined the Franciscan order (v. 67). However, in the following year Pope Boniface VIII cajoled him into re-entering the world of military affairs, this time working against the Ghibellines (the Colonna family, which held the fortress of Palestrina, Roman Praeneste, as detailed in the text [vv. 85-111]). Guido died in 1298 in the Franciscan monastery at Assisi.
While other pairs of preceding cantos contain those who had committed the same sin (VII-VIII [the wrathful]; X-XI [heretics]; XV-XVI [sodomites]; XXIV-XXV [thieves]), only XXVI and XXVII treat two major figures guilty of the same sin, perhaps suggesting how closely Guido and Ulysses are related in Dante's imagination.
This simile is derived either from various histories (Pietro di Dante mentions Orosius and Valerius Maximus [Pietro1, comm. to vv. 7-12]) or from Ovid (Ars amatoria I.653-656). The ancient tyrant of Agrigento (in Sicily), Phalaris, had the Athenian Perillus construct for him a brazen bull in which he could roast his victims alive. Their screams were transformed into what resembled the bellowings of a bull. Once the instrument of torture was finished, Phalaris ordered that Perillus be its first victim, thus testing his handicraft. It worked. Ovid's moral to the story (Ars amatoria I.655-656) seems to be echoed in Dante's verse 8: 'there is no law more just than that the craftsman of death should die by his own handicraft.'
For studies of this simile see Richard Lansing (“Submerged Meanings in Dante's Similes [Inf. XXVII],” Dante Studies 94 [1976], pp. 61-69) and William Cook and Ronald Herzman (“St. Eustace: A Note on Inferno XXVII,” Dante Studies 96 [1976], pp. 137-39), the latter pointing to an inverse parallel, found in the Golden Legend, to the martyred St. Eustace.
These verses make clear for the first time how the mechanics of speech of the fraudulent counselors work; their words are formed by their tongues, within their fires, and then produced by the tips of their flames. When Guido first appeared (v. 6) he was apparently only mumbling about his pain within his flame.
Guido's address to Virgil not only insists that the Roman poet was speaking his (native – see Inf. I.68) Lombard, i.e., north Italian, dialect, but then offers in evidence his exact words. What are we to understand about the language in which Virgil first addressed Ulysses (Inf. XXVI.72-75)? Was it the same as this? Or is this, as seems more likely, the colloquial manner in which he sends him away? The entire problem has vexed many a commentator, and no simple resolution has as yet emerged. Now see Francesco Bruni (“Istra: una falsa ricostruzione dantesca?” in Omaggio a Gianfranco Folena, ed. Pier Vincenzo Mengaldo [Padua: Editoriale Programma, 1993], pp. 419-28) on the problems associated with finding any attested presence of the term, in this form, in Dante's Italy and the possibility that it is a Dantean coinage.
Perhaps because he cannot see clearly from within his flame, Guido cannot tell whether Virgil (or Dante, for that matter) is a living soul or a dead fellow-sinner, just now come down from Italy to spend eternity here. The reason for Dante's insistence on this detail will be made plain when Guido reveals himself only because he does not believe that Dante will ever resurface to tell his miserable story.
When Guido died (1298) the peace in Romagna had not yet been confirmed, as it was the following year (see Torraca's comm. to Inf. XXVII.39). The region of Romagna is situated in the eastern north-central part of Italy.
Not only is Guido an Italian (latino), he is that Italian whom Dante had designated as most noble (lo nobilissimo nostro latino) in Convivio IV.xxviii.8. Commentators have been concerned about this apparent contradiction; for an attempt to mitigate it see Lino Pertile, “Inferno XXVII. Il peccato di Guido da Montefeltro,” Atti dell'Istituto Veneto di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti 141 (1982-83), pp. 171-75. If, however, Dante had changed his mind about a number of his positions in Convivio, as others believe, there is no reason to find the contradiction anything less than intentional. Further, he may not have known of Guido's involvement with Boniface when he wrote the passage praising him in Convivio. See the note to Inferno XXVII.106-111.
Virgil's passing the questioning of Guido (a modern) over to Dante reminds us of his insisting on it for Ulysses (an ancient) in the previous canto (Inf. XXVI.73-75).
Dante's reference to Romagna answers Guido's first question: there is peace – of a sort – there now.
Dante now enlightens Guido (and only an expert in the political and geographical lore of the region would understand his elliptical speech) about the condition of seven cities and fortified towns of Romagna, governed by various tyrants: Ravenna, Cervia, Forlì, Rimini, Faenza, Imola, and Cesena. Guido had been in military action in many of them, with mixed results.
Having answered some of Guido's concerns (whom he as yet does not recognize), Dante asks for a similar favor, offering fame in the world as a reward.
Guido's response, made familiar to English readers by T. S. Eliot as the epigraph to The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, makes it clear that, for him, report among the living would bring infamy, not fame. Since he believes that Dante is a damned soul, and thus unable to regain the world of the living, he will speak. For the ingenious argument that Guido knows that Dante is alive, only feigning that he does not in order to concoct a self-favoring narrative that Dante will carry back to the world, see Joseph Markulin (“Dante's Guido da Montefeltro: A Reconsideration,” Dante Studies 100 [1982], pp. 25-40). The first view seems unlikely, because the poet spends so much time with the details of Guido's lack of knowledge of Dante's condition; the second, because the tale he tells is in fact damning enough.
Guido sums up his life in a single line: he went from bad to good. In fact, he went from bad to good to bad again. Dante may have reflected that his own life was exactly the opposite in its movements, from good to bad, but then from bad to good. Guido did not have a Beatrice to lead him back to the true path, only a Boniface.
Boniface VIII, according to Guido, led him from his life of religious retreat back into political machinations. Like Francesca da Rimini, Guido da Montefeltro blames his fall upon another; like her he will tell Dante the reasons for it (see Inf. V.119, where Dante asks Francesca to tell 'a che e come' (how and by what signs) she came into Love's power; Guido will tell Dante 'e come e quare' [Latin 'why,' more precisely 'in what respect'] (how and why) the reasons for his fall into perdition.
According to contemporary documents, Guido was actually referred to as 'the fox.' His quality of astutia, or 'cunning,' further identifies him with Ulysses (see the note to Inf. XXVI.58-63). For astutia as an attribute of Guido's personality, see Lino Pertile, “Inferno XXVII. Il peccato di Guido da Montefeltro,” Atti dell'Istituto Veneto di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti 141 (1982-83), pp. 166-70.
Guido's nautical metaphors clearly relate him, perhaps more plainly than before, to Ulysses. For the curious notice on the part of Filippo Villani (in his life of Guido Bonatti) that Guido da Montefeltro was 'full of all cunning [astutia]' and that he was known among the Italians as 'the new Ulysses' see Hollander (“The Tragedy of Divination in Inferno XX,” in Studies in Dante [Ravenna: Longo, 1980]), p. 142. This would suggest either that, in Dante's day, Guido was actually referred to in this way, or that Filippo, an impassioned reader of Dante, is freely interpreting the reason for the juxtaposition of these two great figures in Inferno.
Guido speaks of his contrition, confession, and satisfaction as though they were the merest of conveniences to attain an end. Do we believe, on the strength of this account, that he had actually fooled God?
Guido's vicious slam of Boniface, with its concomitant enthusiasm for the abandoned devotion to crusading, is not in any respect at odds with Dante's own thoughts. Boniface is attacking Palestrina and its Christian inhabitants, none of whom had joined the Saracens in their re-taking of Acre in 1291, until then the only remaining Christian possession in the Holy Land, or gone there only to do business with the enemy. Instead of attacking the infidel (or back-sliding Christians) he moves against his co-religionists. For a quite different view, one which holds that Dante was in fact critical of earlier papal exhortations to engage in crusading, see Brenda Deen Schildgen, “Dante and the Crusades,” Dante Studies 116 (1998), pp. 95-125.
Boniface cares nothing for Christians, according to Guido (and Dante). Not only does he not oppose the heathen in order to make war on his own, he does not honor his own holy orders, nor those of Guido the friar. The use of the term capestro (cord) here has implications for those who believe that the corda at Inferno XVI.106 is a reference to Dante's status as a Franciscan. (See the note to Inf. XVI.106-108.)
In the fourth century Constantine, suffering from leprosy, had Pope Sylvester I brought to him from his cave on Soracte (where he was in hiding because of Constantine's persecution of Christians) to cure him. When the pontiff did so, Constantine converted to Christianity (and ended up in paradise, according to Dante [Par. XX.55-60]); but he also out of gratitude gave Sylvester authority over the western empire, centered in the city of Rome. (See the note to Inf. XIX.115-117.)
Penestrino is modern Palestrina and was ancient Praeneste. The Colonna family were in rebellion against Boniface's authority and had defended themselves in this fortress.
Boniface's claim is utterly false, as Guido will learn. His reference to Celestine V here makes it seem all the more likely that it is he who is referred to in Inferno III.59-60 (see the note to Inf. III.58-60).
Silence as a defensive weapon against this pope was probably the only way out; but his imposing insistence was too much for Guido, and he makes his bargain.
A continuing debate follows verse 110. Did Dante read these words in chroniclers who preceded him (e.g., Riccobaldo of Ferrara, Francesco Pipino of Bologna, both of whom wrote before 1313, if we are not sure exactly when), or did they get them from Dante? For the key texts in the dispute see Singleton (comm. to Inf. XXVII.67). Some contemporary commentators (e.g., Bosco, introductory note to Inf. XXVII) favor the precedence of Riccobaldo's chronicle, perhaps written between 1308 and 1313, and believe that Dante's account (and revision of his former positive view of Guido) derive from it.
Markulin (“Dante's Guido da Montefeltro: A Reconsideration,” Dante Studies 100 [1982], pp. 25-40) considers the possibility that Guido has invented the battle between St. Francis and the black Cherub (a member of the second highest rank of angels, associated with knowledge). Discomfort with the scene has been abroad for a while. Castelvetro (comm. to verse 114) did not hide his annoyance, seeing that Dante had portrayed the soul of Francis as having made an error in thinking that Guido was to be saved and thus could not possibly have been sent from heaven by God (and was consequently wasting his time), for which reasons he criticizes Dante for not speaking with greater reverence.
Guido's son Bonconte will be caught up in a similar struggle between devil and angel, with the angel winning (Purg. V.104-105). Such a scene may find justification in medieval popularizing art, but Castelvetro is right to complain about its theological absurdities. On the other hand, Dante is writing a poem and not a treatise. That he repeats the motif would seem to indicate that we are meant to take it 'seriously.' See the note to Inf. XXIII.131.
Perhaps the most discussed issue in these two neighboring cantos is developed from this verse. What precisely is 'fraudulent advice' (consiglio frodolente)? Is it the sin that condemns Guido? Is Ulysses, in the previous canto, condemned for the same sin? Fraudulent counsel is giving someone evil advice (whether or not it is effective advice) or acting in such fraudulent ways as to lead others into harming themselves. Since Virgil leaves the sins of the eighth and ninth bolgia unnamed (see Inf. XI.52-60 and note), this is the only indication we have for a clear determination of the sin punished in these two cantos. Any other solution seems less satisfactory, if there have been many who have been eager to try to find one. The American debate in the last century was initiated by Anna Hatcher's claim (“Dante's Ulysses and Guido da Montefeltro,” Dante Studies 88 [1970], pp. 109-17) that Guido's sin was not false counsel; her view was countered by James G. Truscott (“Ulysses and Guido,” Dante Studies 91 [1973], pp. 47-72), but then affirmed by Markulin (“Dante's Guido da Montefeltro: A Reconsideration,” Dante Studies 100 [1982], pp. 25-40). As the reader has noted, debates about the nature of the precise sins referred to in various passages (e.g., Inf. VII, XI, XV [see discussions at the notes to Inf. VII.118-126; Inf. XI.76-90; and Inf. XV.13-21]) are a fairly frequent feature of Dante studies and often involve considerable ingenuity.
While Dante, in Convivio III.xiii.2, clearly states that fallen angels cannot philosophize, since love is a basic requirement of true philosophizing and they are without love, it is clear that they can use logic, one of the tools of philosophy.
This fallen angel does the 'right thing' and stops his descent with his victim at Minos. See the note to Inf. XXI.39.
Unlike Ulysses, who ends his speech with a certain majesty, Guido insists upon his bitterness, realizing eternally his foolishness in his having given over his chance for love and salvation when he did the bidding of Boniface. The canto opens with Ulysses' flame calm and steady (vv. 1-2) and ends with that of Guido writhing.
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Già era dritta in sù la fiamma e queta
per non dir più, e già da noi sen gia
con la licenza del dolce poeta,
quand' un'altra, che dietro a lei venìa,
ne fece volger li occhi a la sua cima
per un confuso suon che fuor n'uscia.
Come 'l bue cicilian che mugghiò prima
col pianto di colui, e ciò fu dritto,
che l'avea temperato con sua lima,
mugghiava con la voce de l'afflitto,
sì che, con tutto che fosse di rame,
pur el pareva dal dolor trafitto;
così, per non aver via né forame
dal principio nel foco, in suo linguaggio
si convertïan le parole grame.
Ma poscia ch'ebber colto lor vïaggio
su per la punta, dandole quel guizzo
che dato avea la lingua in lor passaggio,
udimmo dire: “O tu a cu' io drizzo
la voce e che parlavi mo lombardo,
dicendo 'Istra ten va, più non t'adizzo'
perch' io sia giunto forse alquanto tardo,
non t'incresca restare a parlar meco;
vedi che non incresce a me, e ardo!
Se tu pur mo in questo mondo cieco
caduto se' di quella dolce terra
latina ond' io mia colpa tutta reco,
dimmi se Romagnuoli han pace o guerra;
ch'io fui d'i monti là intra Orbino
e 'l giogo di che Tever si diserra.”
Io era in giuso ancora attento e chino,
quando il mio duca mi tentò di costa,
dicendo: “Parla tu; questi è latino.”
E io, ch'avea già pronta la risposta,
sanza indugio a parlare incominciai:
“O anima che se' là giù nascosta,
Romagna tua non è, e non fu mai,
sanza guerra ne' cuor de' suoi tiranni;
ma 'n palese nessuna or vi lasciai.
Ravenna sta come stata è molt' anni:
l'aguglia da Polenta la si cova,
sì che Cervia ricuopre co' suoi vanni.
La terra che fé già la lunga prova
e di Franceschi sanguinoso mucchio,
sotto le branche verdi si ritrova.
E 'l mastin vecchio e 'l nuovo da Verrucchio,
che fecer di Montagna il mal governo,
là dove soglion fan d'i denti succhio.
Le città di Lamone e di Santerno
conduce il lïoncel dal nido bianco,
che muta parte da la state al verno.
E quella cu' il Savio bagna il fianco,
così com' ella sie' tra 'l piano e 'l monte,
tra tirannia si vive e stato franco.
Ora chi se', ti priego che ne conte;
non esser duro più ch'altri sia stato,
se 'l nome tuo nel mondo tegna fronte.”
Poscia che 'l foco alquanto ebbe rugghiato
al modo suo, l'aguta punta mosse
di qua, di là, e poi diè cotal fiato:
“S'i' credesse che mia risposta fosse
a persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
questa fiamma staria sanza più scosse;
ma però che già mai di questo fondo
non tornò vivo alcun, s'i' odo il vero,
sanza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.
Io fui uom d'arme, e poi fui cordigliero,
credendomi, sì cinto, fare ammenda;
e certo il creder mio venìa intero,
se non fosse il gran prete, a cui mal prenda!,
che mi rimise ne le prime colpe;
e come e quare, voglio che m'intenda.
Mentre ch'io forma fui d'ossa e di polpe
che la madre mi diè, l'opere mie
non furon leonine, ma di volpe.
Li accorgimenti e le coperte vie
io seppi tutte, e sì menai lor arte,
ch'al fine de la terra il suono uscie.
Quando mi vidi giunto in quella parte
di mia etade ove ciascun dovrebbe
calar le vele e raccoglier le sarte,
ciò che pria mi piacëa, allor m'increbbe,
e pentuto e confesso mi rendei;
ahi miser lasso! e giovato sarebbe.
Lo principe d'i novi Farisei,
avendo guerra presso a Laterano,
e non con Saracin né con Giudei,
ché ciascun suo nimico era cristiano,
e nessun era stato a vincer Acri
né mercatante in terra di Soldano,
né sommo officio né ordini sacri
guardò in sé, né in me quel capestro
che solea fare i suoi cinti più macri.
Ma come Costantin chiese Silvestro
d'entro Siratti a guerir de la lebbre,
così mi chiese questi per maestro
a guerir de la sua superba febbre;
domandommi consiglio, e io tacetti
perché le sue parole parver ebbre.
E' poi ridisse: 'Tuo cuor non sospetti;
finor t'assolvo, e tu m'insegna fare
sì come Penestrino in terra getti.
Lo ciel poss' io serrare e diserrare,
come tu sai; però son due le chiavi
che 'l mio antecessor non ebbe care.'
Allor mi pinser li argomenti gravi
là 've 'l tacer mi fu avviso 'l peggio,
e dissi: 'Padre, da che tu mi lavi
di quel peccato ov' io mo cader deggio,
lunga promessa con l'attender corto
ti farà trïunfar ne l'alto seggio.'
Francesco venne poi, com' io fu' morto,
per me; ma un d'i neri cherubini
li disse: 'Non portar; non mi far torto.
Venir se ne dee giù tra ' miei meschini
perché diede 'l consiglio frodolente,
dal quale in qua stato li sono a' crini;
ch'assolver non si può chi non si pente,
né pentere e volere insieme puossi
per la contradizion che nol consente.'
Oh me dolente! come mi riscossi
quando mi prese dicendomi: 'Forse
tu non pensavi ch'io löico fossi!'
A Minòs mi portò; e quelli attorse
otto volte la coda al dosso duro;
e poi che per gran rabbia la si morse,
disse: 'Questi è d'i rei del foco furo';
per ch'io là dove vedi son perduto,
e sì vestito, andando, mi rancuro.”
Quand' elli ebbe 'l suo dir così compiuto,
la fiamma dolorando si partio,
torcendo e dibattendo 'l corno aguto.
Noi passamm' oltre, e io e 'l duca mio,
su per lo scoglio infino in su l'altr' arco
che cuopre 'l fosso in che si paga il fio
a quei che scommettendo acquistan carco.
Already was the flame erect and quiet,
To speak no more, and now departed from us
With the permission of the gentle Poet;
When yet another, which behind it came,
Caused us to turn our eyes upon its top
By a confused sound that issued from it.
As the Sicilian bull (that bellowed first
With the lament of him, and that was right,
Who with his file had modulated it)
Bellowed so with the voice of the afflicted,
That, notwithstanding it was made of brass,
Still it appeared with agony transfixed;
Thus, by not having any way or issue
At first from out the fire, to its own language
Converted were the melancholy words.
But afterwards, when they had gathered way
Up through the point, giving it that vibration
The tongue had given them in their passage out,
We heard it said: "O thou, at whom I aim
My voice, and who but now wast speaking Lombard,
Saying, 'Now go thy way, no more I urge thee,'
Because I come perchance a little late,
To stay and speak with me let it not irk thee;
Thou seest it irks not me, and I am burning.
If thou but lately into this blind world
Hast fallen down from that sweet Latian land,
Wherefrom I bring the whole of my transgression,
Say, if the Romagnuols have peace or war,
For I was from the mountains there between
Urbino and the yoke whence Tiber bursts."
I still was downward bent and listening,
When my Conductor touched me on the side,
Saying: "Speak thou: this one a Latian is."
And I, who had beforehand my reply
In readiness, forthwith began to speak:
"O soul, that down below there art concealed,
Romagna thine is not and never has been
Without war in the bosom of its tyrants;
But open war I none have left there now.
Ravenna stands as it long years has stood;
The Eagle of Polenta there is brooding,
So that she covers Cervia with her vans.
The city which once made the long resistance,
And of the French a sanguinary heap,
Beneath the Green Paws finds itself again;
Verrucchio's ancient Mastiff and the new,
Who made such bad disposal of Montagna,
Where they are wont make wimbles of their teeth.
The cities of Lamone and Santerno
Governs the Lioncel of the white lair,
Who changes sides 'twixt summer-time and winter;
And that of which the Savio bathes the flank,
Even as it lies between the plain and mountain,
Lives between tyranny and a free state.
Now I entreat thee tell us who thou art;
Be not more stubborn than the rest have been,
So may thy name hold front there in the world."
After the fire a little more had roared
In its own fashion, the sharp point it moved
This way and that, and then gave forth such breath:
"If I believed that my reply were made
To one who to the world would e'er return,
This flame without more flickering would stand still;
But inasmuch as never from this depth
Did any one return, if I hear true,
Without the fear of infamy I answer,
I was a man of arms, then Cordelier,
Believing thus begirt to make amends;
And truly my belief had been fulfilled
But for the High Priest, whom may ill betide,
Who put me back into my former sins;
And how and wherefore I will have thee hear.
While I was still the form of bone and pulp
My mother gave to me, the deeds I did
Were not those of a lion, but a fox.
The machinations and the covert ways
I knew them all, and practised so their craft,
That to the ends of earth the sound went forth.
When now unto that portion of mine age
I saw myself arrived, when each one ought
To lower the sails, and coil away the ropes,
That which before had pleased me then displeased me;
And penitent and confessing I surrendered,
Ah woe is me! and it would have bestead me;
The Leader of the modern Pharisees
Having a war near unto Lateran,
And not with Saracens nor with the Jews,
For each one of his enemies was Christian,
And none of them had been to conquer Acre,
Nor merchandising in the Sultan's land,
Nor the high office, nor the sacred orders,
In him regarded, nor in me that cord
Which used to make those girt with it more meagre;
But even as Constantine sought out Sylvester
To cure his leprosy, within Soracte,
So this one sought me out as an adept
To cure him of the fever of his pride.
Counsel he asked of me, and I was silent,
Because his words appeared inebriate.
And then he said: 'Be not thy heart afraid;
Henceforth I thee absolve; and thou instruct me
How to raze Palestrina to the ground.
Heaven have I power to lock and to unlock,
As thou dost know; therefore the keys are two,
The which my predecessor held not dear.'
Then urged me on his weighty arguments
There, where my silence was the worst advice;
And said I: 'Father, since thou washest me
Of that sin into which I now must fall,
The promise long with the fulfilment short
Will make thee triumph in thy lofty seat.'
Francis came afterward, when I was dead,
For me; but one of the black Cherubim
Said to him: 'Take him not; do me no wrong;
He must come down among my servitors,
Because he gave the fraudulent advice
From which time forth I have been at his hair;
For who repents not cannot be absolved,
Nor can one both repent and will at once,
Because of the contradiction which consents not.'
O miserable me! how I did shudder
When he seized on me, saying: 'Peradventure
Thou didst not think that I was a logician!'
He bore me unto Minos, who entwined
Eight times his tail about his stubborn back,
And after he had bitten it in great rage,
Said: 'Of the thievish fire a culprit this;'
Wherefore, here where thou seest, am I lost,
And vested thus in going I bemoan me."
When it had thus completed its recital,
The flame departed uttering lamentations,
Writhing and flapping its sharp-pointed horn.
Onward we passed, both I and my Conductor,
Up o'er the crag above another arch,
Which the moat covers, where is paid the fee
By those who, sowing discord, win their burden.
Ulysses' speech ends, his tongue of fire erect (i.e., not waving about [Inf. XXVI.85-89]) and stilled.
This innocent detail – Virgil's dismissal of Ulysses – will resurface at v. 21 with the addition of rather striking information about the language of Virgil's last words to Ulysses, uttered but not recorded here.
The next flame-enclosed shade, who will turn out to be a modern-day Ulysses, Guido da Montefeltro, was well known enough that he never has to be identified in more than indirect ways (vv. 67-78). Born ca. 1220, Guido was one of the great Ghibelline captains of the last third of the thirteenth century, winning a number of important victories for the nonetheless eventually unsuccessful Ghibelline cause. He was reconciled to the Church in 1286, but then took up his soldiering against the Guelphs once again, finally desisting only in 1294. In 1296 he joined the Franciscan order (v. 67). However, in the following year Pope Boniface VIII cajoled him into re-entering the world of military affairs, this time working against the Ghibellines (the Colonna family, which held the fortress of Palestrina, Roman Praeneste, as detailed in the text [vv. 85-111]). Guido died in 1298 in the Franciscan monastery at Assisi.
While other pairs of preceding cantos contain those who had committed the same sin (VII-VIII [the wrathful]; X-XI [heretics]; XV-XVI [sodomites]; XXIV-XXV [thieves]), only XXVI and XXVII treat two major figures guilty of the same sin, perhaps suggesting how closely Guido and Ulysses are related in Dante's imagination.
This simile is derived either from various histories (Pietro di Dante mentions Orosius and Valerius Maximus [Pietro1, comm. to vv. 7-12]) or from Ovid (Ars amatoria I.653-656). The ancient tyrant of Agrigento (in Sicily), Phalaris, had the Athenian Perillus construct for him a brazen bull in which he could roast his victims alive. Their screams were transformed into what resembled the bellowings of a bull. Once the instrument of torture was finished, Phalaris ordered that Perillus be its first victim, thus testing his handicraft. It worked. Ovid's moral to the story (Ars amatoria I.655-656) seems to be echoed in Dante's verse 8: 'there is no law more just than that the craftsman of death should die by his own handicraft.'
For studies of this simile see Richard Lansing (“Submerged Meanings in Dante's Similes [Inf. XXVII],” Dante Studies 94 [1976], pp. 61-69) and William Cook and Ronald Herzman (“St. Eustace: A Note on Inferno XXVII,” Dante Studies 96 [1976], pp. 137-39), the latter pointing to an inverse parallel, found in the Golden Legend, to the martyred St. Eustace.
These verses make clear for the first time how the mechanics of speech of the fraudulent counselors work; their words are formed by their tongues, within their fires, and then produced by the tips of their flames. When Guido first appeared (v. 6) he was apparently only mumbling about his pain within his flame.
Guido's address to Virgil not only insists that the Roman poet was speaking his (native – see Inf. I.68) Lombard, i.e., north Italian, dialect, but then offers in evidence his exact words. What are we to understand about the language in which Virgil first addressed Ulysses (Inf. XXVI.72-75)? Was it the same as this? Or is this, as seems more likely, the colloquial manner in which he sends him away? The entire problem has vexed many a commentator, and no simple resolution has as yet emerged. Now see Francesco Bruni (“Istra: una falsa ricostruzione dantesca?” in Omaggio a Gianfranco Folena, ed. Pier Vincenzo Mengaldo [Padua: Editoriale Programma, 1993], pp. 419-28) on the problems associated with finding any attested presence of the term, in this form, in Dante's Italy and the possibility that it is a Dantean coinage.
Perhaps because he cannot see clearly from within his flame, Guido cannot tell whether Virgil (or Dante, for that matter) is a living soul or a dead fellow-sinner, just now come down from Italy to spend eternity here. The reason for Dante's insistence on this detail will be made plain when Guido reveals himself only because he does not believe that Dante will ever resurface to tell his miserable story.
When Guido died (1298) the peace in Romagna had not yet been confirmed, as it was the following year (see Torraca's comm. to Inf. XXVII.39). The region of Romagna is situated in the eastern north-central part of Italy.
Not only is Guido an Italian (latino), he is that Italian whom Dante had designated as most noble (lo nobilissimo nostro latino) in Convivio IV.xxviii.8. Commentators have been concerned about this apparent contradiction; for an attempt to mitigate it see Lino Pertile, “Inferno XXVII. Il peccato di Guido da Montefeltro,” Atti dell'Istituto Veneto di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti 141 (1982-83), pp. 171-75. If, however, Dante had changed his mind about a number of his positions in Convivio, as others believe, there is no reason to find the contradiction anything less than intentional. Further, he may not have known of Guido's involvement with Boniface when he wrote the passage praising him in Convivio. See the note to Inferno XXVII.106-111.
Virgil's passing the questioning of Guido (a modern) over to Dante reminds us of his insisting on it for Ulysses (an ancient) in the previous canto (Inf. XXVI.73-75).
Dante's reference to Romagna answers Guido's first question: there is peace – of a sort – there now.
Dante now enlightens Guido (and only an expert in the political and geographical lore of the region would understand his elliptical speech) about the condition of seven cities and fortified towns of Romagna, governed by various tyrants: Ravenna, Cervia, Forlì, Rimini, Faenza, Imola, and Cesena. Guido had been in military action in many of them, with mixed results.
Having answered some of Guido's concerns (whom he as yet does not recognize), Dante asks for a similar favor, offering fame in the world as a reward.
Guido's response, made familiar to English readers by T. S. Eliot as the epigraph to The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, makes it clear that, for him, report among the living would bring infamy, not fame. Since he believes that Dante is a damned soul, and thus unable to regain the world of the living, he will speak. For the ingenious argument that Guido knows that Dante is alive, only feigning that he does not in order to concoct a self-favoring narrative that Dante will carry back to the world, see Joseph Markulin (“Dante's Guido da Montefeltro: A Reconsideration,” Dante Studies 100 [1982], pp. 25-40). The first view seems unlikely, because the poet spends so much time with the details of Guido's lack of knowledge of Dante's condition; the second, because the tale he tells is in fact damning enough.
Guido sums up his life in a single line: he went from bad to good. In fact, he went from bad to good to bad again. Dante may have reflected that his own life was exactly the opposite in its movements, from good to bad, but then from bad to good. Guido did not have a Beatrice to lead him back to the true path, only a Boniface.
Boniface VIII, according to Guido, led him from his life of religious retreat back into political machinations. Like Francesca da Rimini, Guido da Montefeltro blames his fall upon another; like her he will tell Dante the reasons for it (see Inf. V.119, where Dante asks Francesca to tell 'a che e come' (how and by what signs) she came into Love's power; Guido will tell Dante 'e come e quare' [Latin 'why,' more precisely 'in what respect'] (how and why) the reasons for his fall into perdition.
According to contemporary documents, Guido was actually referred to as 'the fox.' His quality of astutia, or 'cunning,' further identifies him with Ulysses (see the note to Inf. XXVI.58-63). For astutia as an attribute of Guido's personality, see Lino Pertile, “Inferno XXVII. Il peccato di Guido da Montefeltro,” Atti dell'Istituto Veneto di Scienze, Lettere ed Arti 141 (1982-83), pp. 166-70.
Guido's nautical metaphors clearly relate him, perhaps more plainly than before, to Ulysses. For the curious notice on the part of Filippo Villani (in his life of Guido Bonatti) that Guido da Montefeltro was 'full of all cunning [astutia]' and that he was known among the Italians as 'the new Ulysses' see Hollander (“The Tragedy of Divination in Inferno XX,” in Studies in Dante [Ravenna: Longo, 1980]), p. 142. This would suggest either that, in Dante's day, Guido was actually referred to in this way, or that Filippo, an impassioned reader of Dante, is freely interpreting the reason for the juxtaposition of these two great figures in Inferno.
Guido speaks of his contrition, confession, and satisfaction as though they were the merest of conveniences to attain an end. Do we believe, on the strength of this account, that he had actually fooled God?
Guido's vicious slam of Boniface, with its concomitant enthusiasm for the abandoned devotion to crusading, is not in any respect at odds with Dante's own thoughts. Boniface is attacking Palestrina and its Christian inhabitants, none of whom had joined the Saracens in their re-taking of Acre in 1291, until then the only remaining Christian possession in the Holy Land, or gone there only to do business with the enemy. Instead of attacking the infidel (or back-sliding Christians) he moves against his co-religionists. For a quite different view, one which holds that Dante was in fact critical of earlier papal exhortations to engage in crusading, see Brenda Deen Schildgen, “Dante and the Crusades,” Dante Studies 116 (1998), pp. 95-125.
Boniface cares nothing for Christians, according to Guido (and Dante). Not only does he not oppose the heathen in order to make war on his own, he does not honor his own holy orders, nor those of Guido the friar. The use of the term capestro (cord) here has implications for those who believe that the corda at Inferno XVI.106 is a reference to Dante's status as a Franciscan. (See the note to Inf. XVI.106-108.)
In the fourth century Constantine, suffering from leprosy, had Pope Sylvester I brought to him from his cave on Soracte (where he was in hiding because of Constantine's persecution of Christians) to cure him. When the pontiff did so, Constantine converted to Christianity (and ended up in paradise, according to Dante [Par. XX.55-60]); but he also out of gratitude gave Sylvester authority over the western empire, centered in the city of Rome. (See the note to Inf. XIX.115-117.)
Penestrino is modern Palestrina and was ancient Praeneste. The Colonna family were in rebellion against Boniface's authority and had defended themselves in this fortress.
Boniface's claim is utterly false, as Guido will learn. His reference to Celestine V here makes it seem all the more likely that it is he who is referred to in Inferno III.59-60 (see the note to Inf. III.58-60).
Silence as a defensive weapon against this pope was probably the only way out; but his imposing insistence was too much for Guido, and he makes his bargain.
A continuing debate follows verse 110. Did Dante read these words in chroniclers who preceded him (e.g., Riccobaldo of Ferrara, Francesco Pipino of Bologna, both of whom wrote before 1313, if we are not sure exactly when), or did they get them from Dante? For the key texts in the dispute see Singleton (comm. to Inf. XXVII.67). Some contemporary commentators (e.g., Bosco, introductory note to Inf. XXVII) favor the precedence of Riccobaldo's chronicle, perhaps written between 1308 and 1313, and believe that Dante's account (and revision of his former positive view of Guido) derive from it.
Markulin (“Dante's Guido da Montefeltro: A Reconsideration,” Dante Studies 100 [1982], pp. 25-40) considers the possibility that Guido has invented the battle between St. Francis and the black Cherub (a member of the second highest rank of angels, associated with knowledge). Discomfort with the scene has been abroad for a while. Castelvetro (comm. to verse 114) did not hide his annoyance, seeing that Dante had portrayed the soul of Francis as having made an error in thinking that Guido was to be saved and thus could not possibly have been sent from heaven by God (and was consequently wasting his time), for which reasons he criticizes Dante for not speaking with greater reverence.
Guido's son Bonconte will be caught up in a similar struggle between devil and angel, with the angel winning (Purg. V.104-105). Such a scene may find justification in medieval popularizing art, but Castelvetro is right to complain about its theological absurdities. On the other hand, Dante is writing a poem and not a treatise. That he repeats the motif would seem to indicate that we are meant to take it 'seriously.' See the note to Inf. XXIII.131.
Perhaps the most discussed issue in these two neighboring cantos is developed from this verse. What precisely is 'fraudulent advice' (consiglio frodolente)? Is it the sin that condemns Guido? Is Ulysses, in the previous canto, condemned for the same sin? Fraudulent counsel is giving someone evil advice (whether or not it is effective advice) or acting in such fraudulent ways as to lead others into harming themselves. Since Virgil leaves the sins of the eighth and ninth bolgia unnamed (see Inf. XI.52-60 and note), this is the only indication we have for a clear determination of the sin punished in these two cantos. Any other solution seems less satisfactory, if there have been many who have been eager to try to find one. The American debate in the last century was initiated by Anna Hatcher's claim (“Dante's Ulysses and Guido da Montefeltro,” Dante Studies 88 [1970], pp. 109-17) that Guido's sin was not false counsel; her view was countered by James G. Truscott (“Ulysses and Guido,” Dante Studies 91 [1973], pp. 47-72), but then affirmed by Markulin (“Dante's Guido da Montefeltro: A Reconsideration,” Dante Studies 100 [1982], pp. 25-40). As the reader has noted, debates about the nature of the precise sins referred to in various passages (e.g., Inf. VII, XI, XV [see discussions at the notes to Inf. VII.118-126; Inf. XI.76-90; and Inf. XV.13-21]) are a fairly frequent feature of Dante studies and often involve considerable ingenuity.
While Dante, in Convivio III.xiii.2, clearly states that fallen angels cannot philosophize, since love is a basic requirement of true philosophizing and they are without love, it is clear that they can use logic, one of the tools of philosophy.
This fallen angel does the 'right thing' and stops his descent with his victim at Minos. See the note to Inf. XXI.39.
Unlike Ulysses, who ends his speech with a certain majesty, Guido insists upon his bitterness, realizing eternally his foolishness in his having given over his chance for love and salvation when he did the bidding of Boniface. The canto opens with Ulysses' flame calm and steady (vv. 1-2) and ends with that of Guido writhing.
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