PER ME SI VA NE L'ETTERNO DOLORE, PER ME SI VA TRA LA PERDUTA GENTE
Yesterday when I first saw this article in the New York Observer about "Life in Knicks Hell", the illustration reminded me of Dante and his Commedia. Well, that and I was thinking about what circle of hell I would end up in (btw, besides the killers and tyrants in the 1st ring, the 2nd and 3rd rings of the Seventh Circle are going to be amazing- just think of how many cool sodomites and suicides there've been.)
Anyway I came across the engraving for the text from Gustave Doré, whose work I've always loved a lot(though I did not know he was so late) and decided to share them with you in a mini series on Sundays. Because what day is more appropriate to, in the words of Jim Morrison,"think about our eventual ends." This'll probably be a failed experiment but...
Here are Canto I-XIII from Inferno (and the image above is Botticelli's view of Dante's hell)
Halfway through the journey we are living
I found myself deep in a darkened forest,
For I had lost all trace of the straight path.
Ah how hard it is to tell what it was like,
How wild the forest was, how dense and rugged!
To think of it still fills my mind with panic
But not so when — to add now to my fears —
In front of me I caught sight of a lion!
He appeared to be coming straight at me
With head held high and furious for hunger,
So that the air itself seemed to be shaking.
Day was now fading, and the dusky air
Released the creatures dwelling here on earth
From tiring tasks, while I, the only one,
Readied myself to endure the battle
Both of the journey and the pathos,
Which flawless memory shall here record.
The demon Charon, with burning-ember eyes,
Gave a signal and gathered all on board,
Smacking lagging stragglers with his oar.
So I saw that brilliant schola meeting
Under the master of sublimest song
Who above all others soars like an eagle.
After conversing for some time together,
They turned to me with a cordial greeting:
With that, my master broke into a smile.
And then they showed me a still greater honor,
For they included me within their group,
So that I was the sixth among those minds.
This way we walked together toward the light,
Speaking of things as well unmentioned here
As there it was as well to speak of them
Just as the doves when homing instinct calls them
To their sweet nest, on steadily lifted wings
Glide through the air, guided by their longing,
So those souls left the covey where Dido lies,
Moving toward us through the malignant air,
So strong was the loving-kindness in my cry.
"O mortal man, gracious and tenderhearted,
Who through the somber air come to visit
The two of us who stained the earth with blood,
"If the King of the universe were our friend,
We would then pray to him to bring you peace,
Since you show pity for our wretched plight.
"Whatever you please to hear and speak about
We will hear and speak about with you
While the wind, as it is now, is silent.
And I, standing there to stare intently,
Saw in that morass people smeared with mud,
All naked, their faces lined with rage.
They beat each other not just with their hands
But even with their heads and chest and feet
And with their teeth ripped each other to pieces.
My own good master said, "Son, now you see
The souls of those whom anger overpowered.
I also want you to accept for certain
"That under the water there are people sighing
Who make the surface of the water bubble,
As your eye tells you whichever way it turns."
Mired in slime, they moan, "We were morose
In the sweet air made cheerful by the sun;
We bore within ourselves the torpid vapors:
"Now morbid we are made in this black mud."
My guide then stepped down into the boat,
And next he made me enter after him:
Only when I was in did it seem weighted.
As soon as my guide and I embarked,
The ancient prow pushed off, ploughing down
Water more deeply than it does with others.
Here at one spot there straightaway stood up
Three infernal Furies stained with blood,
Their bodies and behavior that of women.
Their waists were cinctured with green hydras;
For hair they had horned snakes and poison adders
With which their savage temples were enwreathed.
And clearly recognizing the handmaidens
Of the Queen of unending mournfulness,
He said to me, "Look at the fierce Erinyes:
"That one there on the left is Megaera,
And on the right is Alecto, wailing;
Tisiphone is in the middle." He ceased.
With her nails each one tore at her own breasts,
Thrashed with her hands, and shouted out so loud
That in dread I drew closer to the poet.
"Look here at Farinata straightening up!
From waist high you will see the whole of him."
I had already fixed my eyes on his
While he emerged with his forehead and chest,
Looking as though he held hell in contempt
And at the brink over the broken chasm
There lay outspread the infamy of Crete
That was conceived within the bogus cow;
And when he saw us, he bit into himself,
Like someone whom wrath tears up from inside
Inside here nest the repugnant HarpiesSphere: Related Content
Who chased the Trojans from the Strophades
With foul prophecies of coming losses.
They have wide wings, human necks and faces,
Feet with claws, and big feathered bellies;
They shriek laments from up in the strange trees.
I heard deep wailings rising from all sides,
Without discerning anyone who made them,
So that, completely baffled, I stopped short.
I think he thought that I was thinking that
All of the voices from among the trunks
Rose up from people who were hiding from us.
...
"The answer I give you shall be concise.
"Whenever the violent soul forsakes the flesh
From which it tore itself by its own roots,
Minos assigns it to the seventh pit.
"It plummets to the wood — no place is picked —
But wherever fortune happens to have hurled it,
There it sprouts up like a grain of spelt;
"It springs into a sapling and wild tree;
The harpies, feeding on its foliage,
Cause pain and then an outlet for the pain.
"Like others we shall go to our shed bodies,
But not to dress ourselves in them once more,
For it is wrong to own what you tossed off.
"Here shall we haul them, and throughout the sad
Wood forevermore shall our bodies hang,
Each from the thornbush of its tortured shade."
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