INFERNO XXI
INFERNO XXI
1–3. What is the subject under discussion as the travelers leave the fourth bridge and reach the midpoint of the fifth? Most commentators simply avoid the issue, which probably must remain moot, as Conrieri argues (Conr.1981.1, pp. 1–2).
Dante’s choice of title for his work caused some early commentators difficulty, but not all of them. Guido da Pisa, for instance, nearly certainly echoing the epistle to Cangrande, says that this work is a comedy because, like other comedies, it begins in misery and adversity and ends in prosperity and happiness (incipiunt a miseria et adversitate et finiunt in prosperitatem et felicitatem). Others see only the stylistic reference of the term, as in the case of Benvenuto, for whom the title simply means “my book in the vernacular” (meus liber vulgaris). But others, like Francesco da Buti, allow that they are puzzled, wondering whether or not Dante should so have entitled it, but then allowing that it was his right to do whatever he chose. For a brief consideration of Dante’s sense of tragedy and comedy see the concluding discussion in the note to Inferno XX.106–114. [return to English / Italian]
7–21. Castelvetro objects that Dante’s wonderfully energetic simile is almost entirely made up of extraneous elements, i.e., he needed only to say that the pitch in the bolgia was as black as that in the arsenal at Venice. Of course, that is the beauty of it, as Dante paints his scene as though he had seen the pictures of Brueghel before they were painted. Trucchi’s gloss points out that the “honest mercantilism” of the Venetians, with all its vitality, stands against the sordid conniving of barrators. The pitch, the punishing agent of this bolgia, is the apt sign of the nature of barrators (whom we today call “grafters”), working in secret and leaving such practitioners enlimed with its sticky sign, attaching to all who practice this kind of fraud. “Barratry, the buying and selling of public office, is the civil equivalent of simony, the buying and selling of church office, the sin punished in the third bolgia” (Singleton’s comment).
Verse 11, “chi fa suo legno novo,” is understood by nearly all the commentators to refer to the construction of new ships. However, the entire context here involves the rebuilding of existent vessels; thus our translation has it that this phrase refers to making an old ship new. [return to English / Italian]
29. This figure introduces the “traditional medieval” devils of plays and festivals to the poem. No other scenes in Inferno are as closely linked to the popular culture of the period as these in the cantos devoted to barratry. [return to English / Italian]
34–36. Benvenuto suggests that this figure, laden with what resembles a slaughtered corpse, reminds us of a butcher taking a carcass to be skinned and sold. Christopher Kleinhenz has indicated another (and parodic) likely source: Christ as the Good Shepherd (the pastor bonus of the Bible and of medieval illustrations), holding a saved lamb on his shoulder (Klei.1982.1, pp. 129–31). [return to English / Italian]
37. The name of this class of devils, Malebranche, fits well the place, Malebolge, and means “Evil Claws,” referring to their hooked hands, and perhaps to their forked prongs. [return to English / Italian]
38. The elders of Lucca were the city’s magistrates, similar in their governance to the priors of Florence. Zita was a young servant woman of the city, dead in the 1270s, to whom were reputed great kindness and numerous miracles. While she was not canonized until 1690, she was reputed a saint shortly after her death, and her cult flourished around her tomb in the church of San Frediano in Lucca.
As for the identity of this nameless Lucchese, Guido da Pisa seems to have been the first commentator to say that he was Martino Bottario (or Bottai). He seems to have shared political (and thus grafting) power with Bonturo Dati, mentioned in v. 41. There is another fact about him that is striking: he apparently died, according to Guido, on 26 March 1300, that is, at least in certain calculations, on the very day that is now unfolding in Dante’s poem. Francesco da Buti confirms his name and also registers the date of his death, now given as the Friday night before Holy Saturday (but only referring to the month of March, strangely, since Good Friday fell on 9 April in 1300). Later commentators, if they refer to this material, all have the death date as occurring on 9 April, even though this is not authorized by the first commentators to claim that Martino is the Lucchese here present. For particulars see Pietro Mazzamuto, ED, vol. 1, 1970, pp. 313–14. [return to English / Italian]
39. The notion that barrators come straight from earth to this point in hell, carried off by a devil, seems to violate the rule that all must cross Acheron with Charon (Inf. III.122–123) and then go before Minos to be judged (Inf. V.7–12). Even the black Cherub who carries off the soul of Guido da Montefeltro is said (by Guido himself) to have carried him only as far as Minos (Inf. XXVII.124). Thus Singleton reasons that the devil at least stops briefly at Minos’s place of judgment in order to allow the formal sentencing to take place. (Must we also imagine that he accompanies barrators from Lucca aboard Charon’s skiff?) It is surely true that Dante is generally precise in honoring the ground rules that he establishes; it is also true that he has written a poem, one that allows him to please his fancy when he chooses. [return to English / Italian]
41–42. Bonturo Dati, who did not die until 1325, was famed for his barratry. A popular tale has it that when Boniface VIII, embracing him at an encounter when Bonturo visited him on an embassy, shook him, Bonturo said, in return, “You have just shaken half of Lucca” (meaning to indicate Martino as the other half). Dante’s devil’s exclusion of him from among the Lucchesi who, suborned by money, will turn an elder’s “no” into a “yes” is indubitably ironic and sarcastic: no one in Lucca is a greater grafter than he. [return to English / Italian]
46–48. The ironic edge of the devils’ remark is variously interpreted, depending on the meaning of convolto. Does this sinner return to the surface with his face now covered with pitch (in which case he resembles the ebony face of Christ on the much-venerated image of the Crucifixion in San Martino, in Lucca)? or is he bent in two, emerging with his backside from the pitch (in which case he looks like a citizen of Lucca kneeling to prostrate himself before the image)? Strong arguments are made for each interpretation, and each is supported by a further text (Inf. XXII.25–28, 19–24), in which the sinners in this bolgia are compared, second to frogs with only their snouts out of water, first to dolphins showing their backs as they move through water. Either meaning is completely possible, but most contemporary commentators prefer the latter, perhaps because it is the more burlesque. [return to English / Italian]
49. The Serchio is the river near Lucca in which citizens swam for refreshment in the days of summer. That the devils address Martino would tend to support the notion that it is his head that has surfaced rather than his rump, i.e., they would seem to be saying “Man, that’s no way to do your imitation of the Holy Visage!” [return to English / Italian]
58–62. Virgil’s self-assurance will shortly prove to be ill-founded. Here begins the longest episode in the Inferno; it will run through Canto XXIII.57, some 290 verses. See Hollander (Holl.1984.3), pp. 85–86. [return to English / Italian]
63. Some Renaissance commentators (e.g., Vellutello and Daniello) insist on the proximity of the word baratta to barratry, which would indicate that the word is likely to indicate a previous scuffle with these very demons—who certainly seem the types to have bothered Virgil on his descent to Cocytus when Erichtho sent him on his mission down there (Inf. IX.22–27). The first commentator in the DDP to try a different tack is Singleton, who argues that the primary reference is to Virgil’s difficulties with the devils at the walls of Dis (see Inf. VIII, 82–130) or to some skirmish that he had with these devils on his previous journey to lower hell (Inf. IX, 22–30). The fact that Virgil is shortly to be found out of his depth in his struggle with the Malebranche, again after exhibiting self-confidence in the face of hostile demons, supports this reading. [return to English / Italian]
67–72. Virgil’s calm assurance is shredded by the attack of the “dogs” who rush out upon him, a poor beggar. The simile is hard on Virgil, who only barely manages to regain control of the situation, which, we remember, is being observed by Dante, squatting in hiding on the bridge. [return to English / Italian]
76–78. The entry on the scene of Malacoda (“Eviltail”), the lead devil of the Malebranche of Malebolge, is perfectly in character, as we shall see. He pretends to be servile, but mutters under his breath about his sense of Virgil’s futility. [return to English / Italian]
79–84. Virgil’s aplomb, his “high style” contrasting with demonic “vernacular,” serves at once to set him apart from the “low-life” devils and their leader, Malacoda, but also to make him seem slightly ridiculous, since Malacoda, not he, is eventually in control of the situation, as Virgil will only finally realize, to his considerable chagrin, in Canto XXIII.140–141. Virgil’s reference in v. 83 to the fact that he is not alone (“Let us proceed”) for the first time alerts Malacoda and his cohort to Dante’s hidden presence. [return to English / Italian]
85–87. Malacoda’s fearful gesture, letting fall his billhook, is a masterful ploy that succeeds in getting Virgil to lower his guard. See Guyler (Guyl.1972.1), p. 34. [return to English / Italian]
88–93. Virgil, tricked, orders Dante to leave his hiding-place. The devils, sensing fresh meat, crowd forward. Dante’s fear is a more realistic response to the situation than is Virgil’s self-assurance. [return to English / Italian]
95. Dante was present at the successful siege of Caprona in 1289, a cavalryman observing the success of the mission of his Tuscan Guelphs against this Pisan stronghold. It is to his lasting credit that what he remembers for us is how the victims must have felt when they came out under a pact of safe conduct. Dante, exiled on the charge of barratry by his fellow citizens, here perhaps means to remind them that he had borne arms on behalf of the republic in its victories, the siege of Caprona in August 1289 and the previous great victory at Campaldino that June, referred to later in this scene (XXII.4–5). He was not a grafter, scheming in the dark, but a cavalryman who did his deeds in the fearsome clarity of war. There have been several attempts in the last two centuries to relate the scenes and personages of these cantos of barratry to Dante’s own experiences as accused barrator perfidiously sent into exile on this pretext (and thus presented as attacked by the twelve priors of Florence, the Malebranche), and to his military experiences, offered as vindication against such malicious and untrue charges. For cautionary remarks, urging restraint in such interpretation, see Conrieri (Conr.1981.1), pp. 38–39. [return to English / Italian]
100–105. Dante’s fears are justified; only Malacoda’s intervention prevents the bullying devils from assaulting him with their hooks. Malacoda holds back Scarmiglione, encouraging him to await a more propitious moment for his attack. Scarmiglione is the first of the twelve devils to be named. He is apparently not included in the squad of ten put under Barbariccia’s control—see note to vv. 118–123. [return to English / Italian]
106–111. Malacoda’s partial truth (the sixth bridge, over the bolgia of hypocrisy, is in ruins) is quickly joined to a total fabrication (the next bridge along their route is intact). All the bridges are down, as Virgil will be told by Fra Catalano in Canto XXIII.133–138. [return to English / Italian]
112–114. This extraordinarily precise time reference is the most certain text in the poem for establishing an external date for the journey. It is 7 AM of Holy Saturday, since Christ, according to Dante (Conv. IV.xxiii.10), died at noon. In fact, Dante here is modifying the facts, if on the authority of Luke 23:44, who gives the time of the preternatural darkness as noon. Even Luke, however, is clear that Jesus died at 3 PM. Dante is willing to rewrite any text to suit his purpose.
From this passage we learn that the events narrated in this poem occurred in Easter week of 1300. However, and as we have seen, Dante seems to be conflating two dates for the start of the journey, each of which is propitious, 25 March and 8 April (the actual date of Good Friday in 1300) in order to gain the maximum significant referentiality. See note to Inf. I.1. [return to English / Italian]
115–117. Malacoda lies yet again, promising safe conduct. Once again Virgil is trusting, Dante not. [return to English / Italian]
118–123. Dante’s pleasure in developing nomi parlanti (names that bespeak the quality of their possessors) is evident here. His playful naming is based on the aggressive bestial characteristics of these creatures.
Dante’s thoroughness and care in his handling of the demons’ names is underlined by the fact that each of the ten members of the decina (from decuria, the Latin military term for a “squad” of ten troopers) is named exactly once in the following canto, as follows (with Sinclair’s [Sinc.1939.1, p. 279] English approximations of some of these names in parentheses): Barbariccia (Curlybeard—XXII.29), Graffiacane (Scratchdog—34), Rubicante (Redface—40), Cirïatto (Swineface—55), Libicocco (70), Draghignazzo (Vile Dragon—73), Farfarello (94), Cagnazzo (Low Hound—106), Alichino (112), and Calcabrina (133). [return to English / Italian]
125–126. Malacoda lies again: the devils understand that they are to take Dante and Virgil by surprise, attacking Dante later on. [return to English / Italian]
127–132. Dante’s pleas to Virgil will fall on deaf ears, but we sense already (and will shortly have confirmed) that he, not his guide, understands what the devils are up to. [return to English / Italian]
133–135. Virgil’s response to Dante’s question, based on correct observation and resultant correct interpretation of the devils’ true motives, marks yet another moment in this canto in which the reader is nearly forced to observe how harshly the guide is being treated by the author. In recent years there has been an increasing acknowledgment of what should have been clear to any reader who is willing to give over the notion that the Comedy is essentially an “allegorical” poem in which the character Virgil represents “Reason.” See, among others, Bacchelli (Bacc.1954.1), Ryan.1982.2, Holl.1984.3. [return to English / Italian]
136–139. The devils either prepare to make or have already made a farting sound with their tongues stuck through their teeth in answer to Malacoda’s prior “war-signal” of a fart. See Sarolli’s appreciation of this low-mimetic scene as part of the tradition of musica diaboli, the hellish music that stands in total contrast with the heavenly music we shall hear in Paradiso (Saro.1971.1, pp. 5n., 363–80). The perverse devils turn their mouths into anuses in preparing to answer Malacoda’s (and he is surely aptly named in light of this sound) turning his anus into a bugle, the gestures constituting a sign of “understanding among the malefactors and a sign of their derision for Virgil’s self-confident misreading of their intentions” (Holl.1984.3, p. 90). [return to English / Italian]