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| Malebranche, by Gustave Doré |
So from
bridge to bridge, speaking of other things
of which my
comedy cares not to start
to sing, we
came; and when we took the peak,
4 we stopped
to see another rifted part
of
Malebolge and other vain laments;
and I saw
it miraculously dark.
7 As in the
Venetian Arsenal, in
the
wintertime, they boil sticky pitch
to smear
their unsound vessels with again,
10 for they
cannot set sail—instead of which,
some build
their vessels new, and some caulk the ribs
of crafts
that have made many voyages;
13 some hammer
the prows and some the sterns of ships;
others make
oars and others, for their part,
twist
ropes; some patch the mainsails and the jibs—:
16 so, not by
fire, but by divine art,
was boiling
tar below there, thick and dense,
which glued
along the bank at every part.
19 I saw it, but
saw nothing from within
except the
bubbles that were boiling out,
and
swelling, and subsiding back condensed.
22 While I was so
intently looking down,
my guide,
saying “Watch out, watch out!”, came near
and pulled
me from where I was standing now.
25 Then I turned
like the man who longs to peer
at that
from which he really ought to flee
and who’s
discouraged by a sudden fear,
28 who, looking,
doesn’t hesitate to leave:
and I saw a
black devil when I looked
come running
up behind us on the reef.
31 Ah how brutal
he was in the way he looked!
and how he
seemed so bitter in his actions,
with open
wings and light upon his foot!
34 His shoulder,
which was proud and high and jagged,
was holding
up a sinner by the hips,
and by the
tendon of the foot he’d snagged him.
37 “O
Malebranche,” he called out from our bridge,
“behold an
elder of Saint Zita! —Set
him under,
and I’ll take another trip
40 to that land
where full stores of them are kept:
all men
there but Bonturo do barratry;
out of a no, there, money makes a yes.”
43 He flung him
down there, and by the hard reef
turned
back; no mastiff was ever unleashed here
with so
much haste in chasing down a thief.
46 That one
plunged in, and reeling, reappeared;
but the
demons, from the cover of the bridge,
cried out:
“The Holy Face has no place here!
49 here you’re
not in the Serchio for a dip!
So, if you
do not wish to catch our gaffs,
don’t swim
above the cover of the pitch.”
52 They bit into
him with a hundred shafts,
saying:
“You must dance in cover here, you crook,
so, if you
can, covertly take your graft.”
55 No
differently are the lackeys of a cook
ordered to
plunge the meat down into the pot,
so that it
won’t float up, with forks and hooks.
58 The good
master told me: “So that it’s not
apparent
that you’re here, that you may screen
yourself
from them, crouch down behind a rock;
61 whatever
outrage may be done to me,
fear not, because
I’ve been in such a bout
before, and
I’ve accounted for these things.”
64 He went across
beyond the bridgehead now;
and as he
came to the sixth bank, it was
his duty to
maintain a steady brow.
67 With that
fury and tempest of the dogs
who leap
onto the back of a vagabond
who begs at
once wherever he has paused,
70 they leapt
out from beneath the bridge, their prongs
turned
against him with all their prodding hooks;
but he
cried: “None of you be rash! Be calm.
73 Before your
hooks and pitchforks seize me, look—
let one of
you come forth who’ll hear me out,
and then
decide if I am to be hooked.”
76 They all
cried: “Malacoda, you go now!”;
so one
moved up—and the rest stood still—and he
was saying:
“What good does it do him now?”
79 “Do you
believe, Malacoda, to see
that I’ve
come here,” my master said, “still safe
so far from
all your obstacles and screens,
82 without
divine will and a righteous fate?
Let us go,
for it’s willed in Heaven that
I may show
someone else this wild way.”
85 Then his
arrogance had fallen so far back,
he dropped
his pitchfork to his feet; and now
he told
them: “Then, let him not be attacked.”
88 And then my
guide to me: “O you who crouch
among the jagged
rocks of the bridge, unheard,
safely
return to me, then, come on out.”
91 And so I
moved, and rapidly returned;
and all the
devils came in close to me,
so that I
feared they might not keep their word;
94 I’ve seen the
same fear in the infantry
who emerged
from Caprona under pact,
seeing
themselves among their enemies.
97 With all my
body, I retreated back
beside my
guide, and did not wrench my eyes
from their
expressions, each of which was bad.
100 They lowered
their hooks and, “Shall I strike him,” cried
one to the
others, “on his backside now?”
And: “Yes,
give him a spanking!” they replied.
103 But then that
demon quickly turned around
who had
been holding parley with my guide,
and he
said: “Down, Scarmiglione, down!”
106 Then he told
us: “You can’t go farther by
this ridge,
for at the bottom of the ditch,
all
shattered into bits, the sixth arch lies.
109 And if going onwards
is still your wish,
then go
along this cliff; another way
is just
ahead, made by another ridge.
112 Five hours
past this hour yesterday,
one thousand
two hundred sixty-six years
had passed
since the pathway ruptured and gave way.
115 I’m sending
some of mine out there from here
to look for
any airing out their skin;
go with
them—they will not be wicked here.”
118 “Step forward,
Alichino,” he commenced,
“and
Calcabrina too, and you Cagnazzo;
and
Barbariccia, you will lead the ten.
121 Libicocco,
come forth, and Draghignazzo,
madman
Rubicante and Farfarello,
and Graffiacane
and tusked Ciriatto.
124 Search all
around the boiling sludge, be thorough;
and keep
them safe until the other crag
which goes
unbroken over all the burrows.”
127 “O me, master,
what’s this I see?” I asked,
“aah, let
us go alone, if you know how,
without an
escort; I don’t ask for that.
130 If you’re as
keen as you’ve been up to now,
do you not
see them gnash their teeth, and leer
at us and
threaten torment with their brows?”
133 And he to me:
“I want you not to fear;
let them
gnash their teeth as much as they please—
they do it
for the wretches stewing here.”
136 Along the
lefthand bank, they turned to leave;
but first,
each of them stuck his tongue out past
his teeth,
to make a signal, toward their chief;
139 and he made a
little trumpet of his ass.
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