490 H. COMMENT CANTO V11. LXXIII. The city, which Dante 'unbars' ( sbarro) his eyes to see, is named Dis after the Aeneid: perque domos Ditis: (1) and it forms as it were a great division in Tartarus; for up to this moment, both the inflictions and the guilt which earned them are bearable if compared with the horrid spectacles to be found after passing within its walls. To this city, and not to any of the portions of Hell which we have yet traversed, Boccaccio was of opinion that the scroll above the gate of the Vestibule particularly referred (2); and however that be (for my own opinion is that it applies to all within the Hell-of-the-damned, which begins with the second Circle), yet this much is certain, that in all the future Circles we shall discover no mild offenders like poor Francesca or Ciacco, or even Argenti; but perpetrators of the most enormous wickedness. The minarets and walls glowing at a distance remind one of the Aeneid (the specification of minarets, instead of turrets, being nothing more than for the purpose of giving a profaner turn to the passage, not of throwing a slur on The chief cause was his withstanding Charles de Valois (Hell, Coinment, Canto vi. p. 363): but the enmity of so powerful a family as the Adimari was no slight adjunct. Questo essendo la principal cagione, da ivi a poco fu per Bianco cacciato da Firenze. Franco Sacchetti, Nov. 114. (1) Aeneid. Lib. v1. v. 268. - (2) Per me si va nella Città dolente — cioè nella città di Dite. Boccaccio, Comento, Vol. 1. p. 138. CANTO VIII. any religion, which would be entirely out of Dan te's way: Respicit Aeneas subitò, et sub rupe sinistrâ Moenia lata videt triplici circumdata muro, The fallen, or 'heaven-showered' angels, who are now the demons that guard Dis, were once (as we shall learn presently) the guards of the hellish Vestibule from whose gate they were dislodged, on the descent of Jesus into the first, or Elysian circle of hell. The indignation of the fiends is directed entirely against Dante; or at least no otherwise against Virgil (who being a spirit was not an intruder) than as the guide of a Mortal. There is severe irony in telling Dante to 'retrace' his steps alone; not merely because it were hard for him to find the road, but because of the impossibility of retracing it whether alone or in company. That it was im possible, seems to have been the notion entertained by the Roman as well as the Tuscan: so we find Aeneas and the Sybil go from one new scene to another, and at last, without turning back, emerge by a different door-way than that by which (1) Aeneid. Lib. vi. v. 548. terea, averse the interior of the earth right and come out at the antipodes. I translate oft', is in the original 'more words which some expound 'n times' ink neither very naturally or poetically) ake not an indefinite number, but an cification (yet certainly no very exact nine distinct perils, which Dante had affronted the panther, lion, wolf, Minos, Cerberus, Plutus, Phlegyas, and M. -CV rede or counsel which directed their y journey (da tal n'è dato) was manifestly ounted by Virgil in Canto the second: which he had affirmed proceeded from nts, once Dante's mortal mistresses; one was certainly intended for an immortal ication of supreme Philosophy, and the probably, for Mercy and Grace (1). ords whispered to the infernal Cherubim is presumable, the same which had been Commeut, Canto 11. p. 153. and Phlegyas potence of the Dei to represent the fie hardihood that sole time to preserve all could scarcely have been openly expose the invocation, ins recollection, (whic sary consequence of by this obscurity wit is reported to have tary orators of his d neated their pecul Pandemonium. Th quently, Dante, did may be; but it must exclamatory phrases at least if we may Florentine leaders, 1 (1) This blind fury and re of the Miltonic Moloch: What fear we then? His utmost ire?... On this side nothing And with perpetual Though inaccessible Which if not victor Parad. of the Deity; and in now conveying them sper, the poet shows much sublimity of :: for by this veil of mystery he is enabled ent the fiends as rejecting with disdainful d that solemn invocation, and at the same reserve all its force and solemnity. These arcely have escaped undiminished, had it enly exposed to rejection (1). Perhaps even cation, instead of being enfeebled in our ion, ( which would have been the necesequence of noisy altercation) is invested bscurity with additional grandeur. Milton ed to have studied closely the parliamenors of his day, and to have faithfully deliheir peculiarities in the debates of his onium. That he whom he imitated freDante, did similarly in his Divine Comedy but it must have only been in those short tory phrases, which occur occasionally if we may judge of the speeches of the ne leaders, by what remains of them. Cer blind fury and recklesness of the damned must remind us nic Moloch: What fear we then? What doubt we to incense is utmost ire?... We are at worst n this side nothing..... nd with perpetual inroads can alarm, hough inaccessible, his fatal throne: Which if not victory, is yet revenge. Parad. Lost, Book 2. 494 COMMENT CANTO VIIL. tainly the remnants of their speeches are few; but they suffice to give an idea of their manner, because we know them to be authentic. Dino Compagni (who was one of the chief political men of the day, deeply engaged in the Government of Florence) has himself left us parts of his own orations and of those of his companions. Short yet confused, in the very lowest style of colloquial asseveration, nothing can be more unhappily devoid of any thing approaching to eloquence. Certainly it is beyond calculation immense, the distance between them and the diffusive energy and majesty, which Dante displays so very often in all his prose works, whether Latin or Italian. In his Vita Nuova, his Convito, and his Monarchia we find passages utterly astonishing when compared with Dino Compagni. It was then most justly that Dante's eloquence was rated so high in his time, and that its force enabled him to succeed in the generality of his many embassies. His manner also (without speaking) appears to have possessed something of gentle gravity, which was very attractive; and conciliated his audience, before a word had fallen from a voice said to have been of singular sweetness. The interview between him and Ilarius, as recounted by that monk himself, impresses one with the truth of this remark. After Dante had finished the first Canticle of his poem, or Hell, that is, after he left Malaspina, he passed by the monastery of Corvo, on his way, it would ap |