Dante's Purgatorio: Canto XX

Hugh Capet. Corruption of the French Crown. Prophecy of the Abduction of Pope Boniface VIII and the Sacrilege of Philip the Fair. The Earthquake.

Ill strives the will against a better will;
  Therefore, to pleasure him, against my pleasure
  I drew the sponge not saturate from the water.

Onward I moved, and onward moved my Leader,
  Through vacant places, skirting still the rock, 5
  As on a wall close to the battlements;

For they that through their eyes pour drop by drop
  The malady which all the world pervades,
  On the other side too near the verge approach.

Accursed mayst thou be, thou old she-wolf, 10
  That more than all the other beasts hast prey,
  Because of hunger infinitely hollow!

O heaven, in whose gyrations some appear
  To think conditions here below are changed,
  When will he come through whom she shall depart? 15

Onward we went with footsteps slow and scarce,
  And I attentive to the shades I heard
  Piteously weeping and bemoaning them;

And I by peradventure heard "Sweet Mary!"
  Uttered in front of us amid the weeping 20
  Even as a woman does who is in child-birth;

And in continuance: "How poor thou wast
  Is manifested by that hostelry
  Where thou didst lay thy sacred burden down."

Thereafterward I heard: "O good Fabricius, 25
  Virtue with poverty didst thou prefer
  To the possession of great wealth with vice."

So pleasurable were these words to me
  That I drew farther onward to have knowledge
  Touching that spirit whence they seemed to come. 30

He furthermore was speaking of the largess
  Which Nicholas unto the maidens gave,
  In order to conduct their youth to honour.

"O soul that dost so excellently speak,
  Tell me who wast thou," said I, "and why only 35
  Thou dost renew these praises well deserved?

Not without recompense shall be thy word,
  If I return to finish the short journey
  Of that life which is flying to its end."

And he: "I'll tell thee, not for any comfort 40
  I may expect from earth, but that so much
  Grace shines in thee or ever thou art dead.

I was the root of that malignant plant
  Which overshadows all the Christian world,
  So that good fruit is seldom gathered from it; 45

But if Douay and Ghent, and Lille and Bruges
  Had Power, soon vengeance would be taken on it;
  And this I pray of Him who judges all.

Hugh Capet was I called upon the earth;
  From me were born the Louises and Philips, 50
  By whom in later days has France been governed.

I was the son of a Parisian butcher,
  What time the ancient kings had perished all,
  Excepting one, contrite in cloth of gray.

I found me grasping in my hands the rein 55
  Of the realm's government, and so great power
  Of new acquest, and so with friends abounding,

That to the widowed diadem promoted
  The head of mine own offspring was, from whom
  The consecrated bones of these began. 60

So long as the great dowry of Provence
  Out of my blood took not the sense of shame,
  'Twas little worth, but still it did no harm.

Then it began with falsehood and with force
  Its rapine; and thereafter, for amends, 65
  Took Ponthieu, Normandy, and Gascony.

Charles came to Italy, and for amends
  A victim made of Conradin, and then
  Thrust Thomas back to heaven, for amends.

A time I see, not very distant now, 70
  Which draweth forth another Charles from France,
  The better to make known both him and his.

Unarmed he goes, and only with the lance
  That Judas jousted with; and that he thrusts
  So that he makes the paunch of Florence burst. 75

He thence not land, but sin and infamy,
  Shall gain, so much more grievous to himself
  As the more light such damage he accounts.

The other, now gone forth, ta'en in his ship,
  See I his daughter sell, and chaffer for her 80
  As corsairs do with other female slaves.

What more, O Avarice, canst thou do to us,
  Since thou my blood so to thyself hast drawn,
  It careth not for its own proper flesh?

That less may seem the future ill and past, 85
  I see the flower-de-luce Alagna enter,
  And Christ in his own Vicar captive made.

I see him yet another time derided;
  I see renewed the vinegar and gall,
  And between living thieves I see him slain. 90

I see the modern Pilate so relentless,
  This does not sate him, but without decretal
  He to the temple bears his sordid sails!

When, O my Lord! shall I be joyful made
  By looking on the vengeance which, concealed, 95
  Makes sweet thine anger in thy secrecy?

What I was saying of that only bride
  Of the Holy Ghost, and which occasioned thee
  To turn towards me for some commentary,

So long has been ordained to all our prayers 100
  As the day lasts; but when the night comes on,
  Contrary sound we take instead thereof.

At that time we repeat Pygmalion,
  Of whom a traitor, thief, and parricide
  Made his insatiable desire of gold; 105

And the misery of avaricious Midas,
  That followed his inordinate demand,
  At which forevermore one needs but laugh.

The foolish Achan each one then records,
  And how he stole the spoils; so that the wrath 110
  Of Joshua still appears to sting him here.

Then we accuse Sapphira with her husband,
  We laud the hoof-beats Heliodorus had,
  And the whole mount in infamy encircles

Polymnestor who murdered Polydorus. 115
  Here finally is cried: 'O Crassus, tell us,
  For thou dost know, what is the taste of gold?'

Sometimes we speak, one loud, another low,
  According to desire of speech, that spurs us
  To greater now and now to lesser pace. 120

But in the good that here by day is talked of,
  Erewhile alone I was not; yet near by
  No other person lifted up his voice."

From him already we departed were,
  And made endeavour to o'ercome the road 125
  As much as was permitted to our power,

When I perceived, like something that is falling,
  The mountain tremble, whence a chill seized on me,
  As seizes him who to his death is going.

Certes so violently shook not Delos, 130
  Before Latona made her nest therein
  To give birth to the two eyes of the heaven.

Then upon all sides there began a cry,
  Such that the Master drew himself towards me,
  Saying, "Fear not, while I am guiding thee." 135

"Gloria in excelsis Deo," all
  Were saying, from what near I comprehended,
  Where it was possible to hear the cry.

We paused immovable and in suspense,
  Even as the shepherds who first heard that song, 140
  Until the trembling ceased, and it was finished.

Then we resumed again our holy path,
  Watching the shades that lay upon the ground,
  Already turned to their accustomed plaint.

No ignorance ever with so great a strife 145
  Had rendered me importunate to know,
  If erreth not in this my memory,

As meditating then I seemed to have;
  Nor out of haste to question did I dare,
  Nor of myself I there could aught perceive; 150

So I went onward timorous and thoughtful.

NOTES

1 - 1

In this canto the subject of the preceding is continued, namely, the punishment of Avarice and Prodigality.

2 - 2

To please the speaker, Pope Adrian the Fifth, (who, Canto XIX. 139, says,

“Now go, no longer will I have thee linger”,)

Dante departs without further question, though not yet satisfied.

13 - 13

See the article Cabala at the end of Vol. III.

15 - 15

This is generally supposed to refer to Can Grande della Scala. See Inf. 1. Note 101.

23 - 23

The inn at Bethlehem.

25 - 25

The Roman Consul who rejected with disdain the bribes of Pyrrhus, and died so poor that he was buried at the public expense, and the Romans were obliged to give a dowry to his daughters. Virgil, Aeneid, VI. 844, calls him “powerful in poverty.” Dante als extols him in the Convito, IV. 5.

31 - 31

Gower, Conf. Amant., V. 13: –

“Betwene the two extremites
Of vice stont the propertes
Of vertue, and to prove it so
Take avarice and take also
The vice of prodegalite,
Betwene hem liberalite,
Which is the vertue of largesse
Stant and governeth his noblesse.”

32 - 32

This is St. Nicholas, patron saint of children, sailors, and travellers. The incident here alluded to is found in the Legenda Aurea of Jacobus de Voragine, the great storehouse of mediaeval wonders.

It may be found also in Mrs. Jameson's Sacred and Legendary Art, II. 62, and in her version runs thus: –

“Now in that city there dwelt a certain nobleman who had
three daughters, and, from being rich, he became poor; so
poor that there remained no means of obtaining food for his
daughters but by sacrificing them to an infamous life; and
often-times it came into his mind to tell them so, but shame
and sorrow held him dumb. Meantime the maidens wept
continually, not knowing what to do, and not having bread to
eat; and their father became more and more desperate. When
Nicholas heard of this, he thought it a shame that such a
thing should happen in a Christian land; therefore one
night, when the maidens were asleep, and their father alone
sat watching and weeping, he took a handful of gold, and,
tying it up in a handkerchief, he repaired to the dwelling
of the poor man. He considered how he might bestow it
without making himself known, and, while he stood
irresolute, the moon coming from behind a cloud showed him a
window open; so he threw it in, and it fell at the feet of
the father, who, when he found it, returned thanks, and with
it he portioned his eldest daughter. A second time Nicholas
provided a similar sum, and again he threw it in by night;
and with it the nobleman married his second daughter. But
he greatly desired to know who it was that came to his aid;
therefore he determined to watch, and when the good saint
came for the third time, and prepared to throw in the third
portion, he was discovered, for the nobleman seized him by
the skirt of his robe, and flung himself at his feet,
saying, 'O Nicholas! servant of God! why seek to hide
thyself?' and he kissed his feet and his hands. But
Nicholas made him promise that he would tell no man. And
many other charitable works did Nicholas perform in his
native city.”

43 - 43

If we knew from what old chronicle, or from what Professor of the Rue du Fouarre, Dante derived his knowledge of French history, we might possibly make plain the rather difficult passage which begins with this line. The spirit that speaks is not that of the King Hugh Capet, but that of his father, Hugh Capet, Duke of France and Count of Paris. He was son of Robert the Strong. Pasquier, Rech. de la France, VI. 1, describes him as both valiant and prudent, and says that, “though he was never king, yet was he a maker and unmaker of kings”, and then goes on to draw an elaborate parallel between him and Charles Martel.

The “malignant plant” is Philip the Fair, whose character is thus drawn by Milman, Lat. Christ., Book XI. Ch. 8: –

“In Philip the Fair the gallantry of the French temperament
broke out on rare occasions; his first Flemish campaigns
were conducted with bravery and skill, but Philip ever
preferred the subtle negotiation, the slow and wily
encroachment; till his enemies were, if not in his power, at
least at great disadvantage, he did not venture on the
usurpation of invasion. In the slow systematic pursuit of
his object he was utterly without scruple, without remorse.
He was not so much cruel as altogether obtuse to human
suffering, if necessary to the prosecution of his schemes;
not so much rapacious as, finding money indispensable to his
aggrandizement, seeking money by means of which he hardly
seemed to discern the injustice or the folly. Never was man
or monarch so intensely selfish as Philip the Fair; his own
power was his ultimate scope; he extended so enormously the
royal prerogative, the influence of France, because he was
King of France. His rapacity, which persecuted the
Templars, his vindictiveness, wich warred on Boniface after
death as through life, was this selfishness in other forms.”

He was defeated at the battle of Courtray, 1302, known in history as the battle of the Spurs of Gold, from the great number found on the field after the battle. This is the vengeance imprecated upon him by Dante.

50 - 50

For two centuries and a half, that is, from 1060 to 1316, there was either a Louis or a Philip on the throne of France. The succession was as follows: –

Philip I. the Amorous, 1060.
Louis VI. the Fat, 1108.
Louis VII. the Young, 1137.
Philip II. Augustus, 1180.
Louis VIII. the Lion, 1223.
Louis IX. the Saint, 1226.
Philip III. the Bold, 1270.
Philip IV. the Fair, 1285.
Louis X., 1314.

52 - 52

It is doubtful whether this passage is to be taken literally or figuratively. Pasquier, Rech. de la France, Liv. VI. Ch. 1 (thinking it is the King Hugh Capet that speaks), breaks forth in indignant protest as follows: –

“From this you can perceive the fatality there was in this
family from its beginning to its end, to the disadvantage of
the Carlovingians. And moreover, how ignorant the Italian
poet Dante was, when in his book entitled Purgatory he says
that our Hugh Capet was the son of a butcher. Which word,
once written erroneously and carelessly by him, has no crept
into the heads of some simpletons, that many who never
investigated the antiquities of our France have fallen into
this same heresy. Francois de Villon, more studious of
taverns and ale-houses than of good books, says in some part
of his works,

'Si feusse les hoirs de Capet
Qui fut extrait de boucherie.”

And since then Agrippa Alammani, in his book on the Vanity
of Science, chapter Of Nobility, on this first ignorance
declares impudently against the genealogy of our Capet. If
Dante thought that Hugh the Great, Capet's father, was a
butcher, he was not a clever man. But if he used this
expression figuratively, as I am willing to believe, those
who cling to the shell of the word are greater block-heads
still.....

“This passage of Dante being read and explained by Luigi
Alamanni, an Italian, before Francis the First of that name,
he was indignant at the imposture, and commanded it to be
stricken out. He was even excited to interdict the reading
of the book in his kingdom. But for my part, in order to
exculpate this author, I wish to say that under the name of
Butcher he meant that Capet was son of a great and valiant
warrior.....If Dante understood it thus, I forgive him; if
otherwise, he was a very ignorant poet.”

Benvenuto says that the name of Capet comes from the fact that Hugh in playing with his companions in boyhood, “was in the habit of pulling off their caps and running away with them.” Ducange repeats this story from an old chronicle, and gives also another and more probable origin of the name, as coming from the hood or cowl which Hugh was in the habit of wearing.

The belief that the family descended from a butcher was current in Italy in Dante's time. Villani, IV, 3, says: “Most people say that the father was a great and rich burgher of Paris, of a race of butchers or dealers in cattle.”

53 - 53

When the Carlovigian race were all dead but one. And who was he? The Ottimo says it was Rudolph, who became a monk and afterwards Archbishop of Rheims. Benvenuto gives no name, but says only “a monk in poor, coarse garments.” Buti says the same. Daiello thinks it was some Friar of St. Francis, perhaps St. Louis, forgetting that these saints did not see the light till some two centuries after the time here spoken of. Others say Charles of Lorraine; and Biagioli decides that it must be either Charles the Simple, who died a prisoner in the castle of Péronne, in 922; or Louis of Outre-Mer, who was carried to England by Hugh the Great, im 936. The Man in Cloth of Gray remains as great a mystery as the Man in the Iron Mask.

59 - 59

Hugh Capet was crowned at Rheims, in 987. The expression which follows shows clearly that it is Hugh the Great who speaks, and not Hugh the founder of the Capetian dynasty.

61 - 61

Until the shame of the low origin of the family was removed by the marriage of Charles of Anjou, brother of Saint Louis, to the daughter of Raimond Berenger, who brought him Provence as her dower.

65 - 65

Making amends for one crime by committing a greater. The particular transaction here alluded to is the seizing by fraud and holding by force these provinces in the time of Philip the Fair.

67 - 67

Charles of Anjou.

68 - 68

Curradino, or Conradin, son of the Emperor Conrad IV., a beautiful youth of sixteen, who was beheaded in the square of Naples by order of Charles of Anjou, in 1268. Voltaire, in his rhymed chronology at the end of his Annals de l'Empire, says,

“C'est en soixant-huit que la main d'un bourreau
Dans Conradin son fils éteint un sang si beau.”

Endeavoring to escape to Sicily after his defeat at Tagliacozzo, he was carried to Naples and imprisoned in the Castel dell'Uovo. “Christendom heard with horror”, says Milman, Lat. Christ., Book XI. Ch. 3, “that the royal brother of St. Louis, that the champion of the Church, after a mock trial, by the sentence of one judge, Robert di Lavena, – after an unanswerable pleading by Guido de Suzaria, a famous jurist, – had condemned the last heir of the Swabian house – a rival king who had fought gallantly for his hereditary throne – to be executed as a felon and a rebel on a public scaffold. So little did Conradin dread his fate, that, when his doom was announced, he was playing at chess with Frederick of Austria. 'Slave', said Conradin to Robert of Bari, who read the fatal sentence, 'do you dare to condemn as a criminal the son and heir of kings? Knows not your master that he is my equal, not my judge?' He added, 'I am a mortal, and must die; yet ask the kings of the earth if a prince be criminal for seeking to win back the heritage of his ancestors. But if there be no pardon for me, at least, my faithful companions; or if they must die, strike me first, that I may not behold their death.' They died devoutly, nobly. Every circumstance aggravated the abhorrence; it was said – perhaps it was the invention of that abhorrence – that Robert of Flanders, the brother of Charles, struck dead the judge who had presumed to read the iniquitous sentence. When Conradin knelt, with uplifted hands, awaiting the blow of the executioner, he uttered these last words, 'O my mother! how deep will by thy sorrow at the news of this day!' Even the followers of Charles could hardly restrain their pity and indignation. With Conradin died his young and valiant friend, Frederic of Austria, the two Lancias, two of the noble house of Donaticcio of Pisa. The inexorable Charles would not permit them to be buried in consecrated ground.”

69 - 69

Thomas Aquinas, the Angelic Doctor of the Schools, died at the convent of Fossa Nuova in the Campagna, being on his way to the Council of Lyons, in 1274. He is supposed to have been poisoned by his physician, at the instigation of Charles of Anjou.

71 - 71

Charles of Valois, who came into Italy by invitation of Boniface the Eight, in 1301. See Inf. VI. 69.

74 - 74

There is in old French literature a poem entitled Le Tournoyement de l'Antechrist, written by Hughes de Méry, a monk of the Abbey of St. Germain-des-Prés, in the thirteenth century, in which he describes a battle between the Virtues under the banner of Christ, and the Vices under that of Antichrist.

In the Vision of Piers Ploughman, there is a joust between Christ and the foul fiend: –

“Thanne was Feith in a fenestre, And cryde a fili David, As dooth an heraud of armes, Whan aventrous cometh to justes. Old Jewes of Jerusalem For joye thei songen, Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini. ”Thanne I frayned at Feith, What al that fare by-mente, And who sholde juste in Jerusalem. 'Jhesus,' he seide, 'And fecche that the fiend claymeth, Piers fruyt the Plowman.' ..... “'Who shal juste with Jhesus?' quod I, 'Jewes or scrybes?' ”'Nay', quod he; 'The fould fend, And fals doom and deeth.'“

75 - 75

By the aid of Charles of Valois the Neri party triumphed in Florence, and the Bianchi were banished, and with them Dante.

76 - 76

There is an allusion here to the nickname of Charles of Valois, Senzaterra, of Lackland.

79 - 79

Charles the Second, son of Charles of Anjou. He went from France to recover Sicily after the Sicilian Vespers. In an engagement with the Spanish fleet under Admiral Rugieri d'Oria, he was taken prisoner. Dante says he sold his daughter, because he married her for a large sum of money to Azzo the Sixth of Este.

82 - 82

Aeneid, III. 56. ”Cursed thirst of gold, to what dost thou not drive the hearts of men.“

86 - 86

The flower-de-luce is in the banner of France. Borel, Trésor de Recherches, cited by Roquefort, Glossaire, under the word Leye, says: ”The oriflamme is so called from gold and flame; that is to say, a lily of the marshes. The lilies are the arms of France in a field of azure, which denotes water, in memory that they (the French) came from a marshy country. It is the most ancient and principal banner of France, sown with these lilies, and was borne around our kings on great occasions.“

Roquefort gives his own opinion as follows: ”The Franks, afterwards called French, inhabited (before entering Gaul properly so called) the environs of the Lys, a river of the Low Countries, whose banks are still covered with a kind of iris or flag of a yellow color, which differs from the common lily and more nearly resembles the flower-de-luce of our arms. Now it seems to me very natural that the kings of the Franks, having to choose a symbol to which the name of armorial bearings has since been given, should take in its composition a beautiful and remarkable flower, which they had before their eyes, and that they should name it, from the place where it grew in abundance, flower of the river Lys.“

These are the lilies of which Drayton speaks in his Ballad of Agincourt: –

”..... when our grandsire great,
Claiming the regal seat,
By many a warlike feat
Lopped the French lilies.“

87 - 87

This passage alludes to the seizure and imprisonment of Pope Boniface the English by the troops of Philip the Fair at Alagna or Anagni, in 1303. Milman, Lat. Christ., Book XI. Ch. 9, thus describes the event: –

”On a sudden, on the 7th September (the 8th was the day for
the publication of the Bull), the peaceful streets of Anagni
were disturbed. The Pope and the Cardinals, who were all
assembled around him, were startled with the trampling of
armed horse, and the terrible cry, which ran like wildfire
through the city, 'Death to Pope Boniface! Long live the
King of France!' Sciarra Colonna, at the head of three
hundred horsemen, the Barons of Cercano and Supino, and some
others, the sons of Master Massio of Anagni, were marching
in furíous haste, with the banner of the king of France
displayed. The ungrateful citizens of Anagni, forgetful of
their pride in their holy compatriot, of the honour and
advantage to their town from the splendour and wealth of the
Papal residence, received them with rebellious and
acclaiming shouts.

“The bell of the city, indeed, had tolled at the first
alarm; the burghers had assembled; they had chosen their
commander; but that commander, whom they ignorantly or
treacherously chose, was Arnulf, a deadly enemy of the Pope.
The banner of the Church was unfolded against the Pope by
the captain of the people of Anagni. The first attack was
on the palace of the Pope, on that of the Marquis Gaetani,
his nephew, and those of three Cardinals, the special
partisans of Boniface. The houses of the Pope and of his
nephew made some resistance. The doors of those of the
Cardinals were beaten down, the treasures ransacked and
carried off; the Cardinals themselves fled from the backs of
the houses through the common sewer. Then arrived, but not
to the rescue, Arnulf, the Captain of the People; he had
perhaps been suborned by Reginald of Supino. With him were
the sons of Chiton, whose father was pining in the dungeons
of Boniface. Instead of resisting, they joined the attack
on the palace of the Pope's nephew and his own. The Pope
and his nephew implored a truce, it was granted for eight
hours. This time the Pope employed in endeavoring to stir
up the people to his defence; the people coldly answered,
that they were under the command of their Captain. The Pope
demanded the terms of the conspirators. 'If the Pope would
save his life, let him instantly restore the Colonna
Cardinals to their dignity, and reinstate the whole house in
their honors and possessions; after this restoration the
Pope must abdicate, and leave his body at the disposal of
Sciarra.' The Pope groaned in the depths of his heart.
'The word is spoken.' Again the assailants thundered at the
gates of the palace; still there was obstinate resistance.
The principal church of Anagni, that of Santa Maria,
protected the Pope's palace. Sciarra Colonna's lawless band
set fire to the gates; the church was crowded with clergy
and laity and traders who had brought their precious wares
into the sacred building. They were plundered with such
rapacity that not a man escaped with a farthing.

”The Marquis found himself compelled to surrender, on the
condition that his own life, that of his family and of his
servants, should be spared. At these sad tidings the Pope
wept bitterly. The Pope was alone; from the first the
Cardinals, some from treachery, some from cowardice, had
fled on all sides, even his most familiar friends: they had
crept into the most ignoble hiding-places. The aged Pontiff
alone lost not his self-command. He had declared himself
ready to perish in his glorious cause; he determined to fall
with dignity. 'If I am betrayed like Christ, I am ready to
die like Christ.' He put on the stole of St. Peter, the
imperial crown was on his head, the keys of St. Peter in one
hand and the cross in the other: he took his seat on the
Papal throne, and, like the Roman Senators of old, awaited
the approach of the Gaul.

“But the pride and cruelty of Boniface had raised and
infixed deep in the hearts of men passions which
acknowledged no awe of age, of intrepidity, or religious
majesty. In William of Nogaret the blood of his Tolosan
ancestors, in Colonna, the wrongs, the degradation, the
beggary, the exile of all his house, had extinguished every
feeling but revenge. They insulted him with contumelious
reproaches; they menaced his life. The Pope answered not a
word. They insisted that he should at once abdicate the
Papacy. 'Behold my neck, behold my head,' was the only
reply. But fiercer words passed between the Pope and
William of Nogaret. Nogaret threatened to drag him before
the Council of Lyons, where he should be deposed from the
Papacy. 'Shall I suffer myself to be degraded and deposed
by Paterins like thee, whose fathers were righteously burned
as Paterins?' William turned fiery red, with shame thought
the partisans of Boniface, more likely with wrath. Sciarra,
it was said, would have slain him outright; he was prevented
by some of his own followers, even by Nogaret. 'Wretched
Pope, even at his distance the goodness of my Lord the King
guards thy life.'

”He was placed under close custody, not one of his own
attendants permitted to approach him. Worse indignities
awaited him. He was set on a vicious horse, with his face
to the tail, and so led through the town to his place of
imprisonment. The palaces of the Pope and of his nephew
were plundered; so vast was the wealth, that the annual
revenues of all the kings in the world would not have been
equal to the treasures found and carried off by Sciarra's
freebooting soldiers. His very private chamber was
ransacked; nothing left but bare walls.

“At length the people of Anagni could no longer bear the
insult and the sufferings heaped upon their illustrious and
holy fellow-citizen. They rose in irresistible
insurrection, drove out the soldiers by whom they had been
overawed, now gorged with plunder, and doubtless not
unwilling to withdraw. The Pope was rescued, and led out
into the street, where the old man adressed a few words to
the people: 'Good men and women, ye see how mine enemies
have come upon me, and plundered my goods, those of the
Church and of the poor. Not a morsel of bread have I eaten,
not a drop have I drunk, since my capture. I am almost dead
with hunger. If any good woman will give me a piece of
bread and a cup of wine, if she has no wine, a little water,
I will absolve her, and any one who will give me their alms,
from all their sins.' The compassionate rabble burst into a
cry, 'Long life to the Pope!' They carried him back to his
naked palace. They crowded, the women especially, with
provisions, bread, meat, water, and wine. They could not
find a single vessel: they poured a supply of water into a
chest. The Pope proclaimed a general absolution to all
except the plunderers of his palace. He even declared that
he wished to be at peace with the Colonnas and all his
enemies. This perhaps was to disguise his intention of
retiring, as soon as he could, to Rome.

”The Romans had heard with indignation the sacrilegious
attack on the person of the Supreme Pontiff. Four hundred
horse under Matteo and Gaetano Orsini were sent to conduct
him to the city. He entered it almost in triumph; the
populace welcomed him with every demonstration of joy. But
the awe of his greatness was gone; the spell of his dominion
over the minds of men was broken. His overweening
haughtiness and domination had made him many enemies in the
Sacred College, the gold of France had made him more. This
general revolt is his severest condemnation. Among his
first enemies was the Cardinal Napoleon Orsini. Orsini had
followed the triumphal entrance of the Pope. Boniface, to
show that he desired to reconcile himself with all,
courteously invited him to his table. The Orsini coldly
answered, 'that he must receive the Colonna Cardinals into
his favor; he must not now disown what had been wrung from
him by compulsion.' 'I will pardon them', said Boniface,
'but the mercy of the Pope is not to be from compulsion.'
He found himself again a prisoner.

“This last mortification crushed the bodily, if not the
mental strength of the Pope. Among the Ghibellines terrible
stories were bruited abroad of his death. In an access of
fury, either from poison or wounded pride, he sat gnawing
the top of his staff, and at lenght either beat his own
brains against the wall, or smothered himself (a strange
notion!) with his own pillows. More friendly, probably more
trustworthy, accounts describe him as sadly but quietly
breathing his last, surrounded by eight Cardinals, having
confessed the faith and received the consoling offices of
the Church. The Cardinal-Poet anticipates his mild sentence
from the Divine Judge.

”The religious mind of Christendom was at once perplexed and
horror-stricken by this act of sacrilegious violence on the
person of the Supreme Pontiff; it shocked some even of the
sternest Ghibellines. Dante, who brands the pride, the
avarice, the treachery of Boniface in his most terrible
words, and has consigned him to the direst doom, (though it
is true that his alliance with the French, with Charles of
Valois, by whom the poet had been driven into exile, was
among the deepest causes of his hatred to Boniface,)
nevertheless expresses the almost universal feeling.
Christendom shuddered to behold the Fleur-de-lis enter into
Anagni, and Christ again captive in his Vicar, the mockery,
the gall and vinegar, the crucifixion between living
robbers, the insolent and sacrilegious cruelty of the second
Pilate.“

Compare this scene with that of his inauguration as Pope, Inf. XIX. Note 53.

91 - 91

This ”modern Pilate“ is Philip the Fair, and the allusion in the following lines is to the persecution and suppression of the Order of the Knights Templars, in 1307-1312. See Milman, Lat. Christ., Book XII. Ch. 2, and Villani, VIII. 92, who says the act was committed per cupidigia di guadagnare, for love of gain; and says also: ”The king of France and his children had afterwards much shame and adversity, both on account of this sin and on account of the seizure of Pope Boniface.“

97 - 97

What he was saying of the Virgin Mary, line 19.

103 - 103

The brother of Dido and murderer of her husband. Aeneid, I. 350: ”He, impious and blinded with the love of gold, having taken Sichaeus by surprise, secretly assassinates him before the altar, regardless of his sister's great affection.“

106 - 106

The Phrygian king, who, for his hospitality to Silenus, was endowed by Bacchus with the fatal power of turning all he touched to gold. The most laughable thing about him was his wearing ass's ears, as a punishment for preferring the music of Pan to that of Apollo.

Ovid, XI., Croxall's Tr.: –

”Pan tuned the pipe, and with his rural song
Pleased the low taste of all the vulgar throng;
Such songs a vulgar judgment mostly please:
Midas was there, and Midas judged with these.“

See also Hawthorne's story of The Golden Touch in his Wonder-Book.

109 - 109

Joshua vii. 21: ”When I saw among the spoils a goodly Babylonish garment, and two hundred shekels of silver, and a wedge of gold of fifty shekels weight, then I coveted them, and took them; and behold, they are hid in the earth in the midst of my tent, and the silver under it.“

112 - 112

Acts v. I, 2: ”But a certain man named Ananias, with Sapphira his wife, sold a possession, and kept back part of the price, his wife also being privy to it, and brought a certain part, and laid it at the apostles' feet.“

113 - 113

The hoof-beats of the miraculous horse in the Temple of Jerusalem, when Heliodorus, the treasurer of King Seleucus, went there to remove the treasure. 2 Maccabees iii. 25: ”For there appeared unto them an horse with a terrible rider upon him, and adorned with a very fair covering, and he ran fiercely, and smote at Heliodorus with his forefeet, and it seemed that he that sat upon the horse had complete harness of gold.“

115 - 115

Aeneid, III. 49, Davidson's Tr.: ”This Polydore unhappy Priam had formerly sent in secrecy, with a great weight of gold, to be brought up by the king of Thrace, when he now began to distrust the arms of Troy, and saw the city with close siege blocked up. He, (Polymnestor,) as soon as the power of the Trojans was crushed, and their fortune gone, espousing Agamemnon's interest and victorious arms, breaks every sacred bond, assassinates Polydore, and by violence possesses his gold. Cursed thirst of gold, to what dost thou no drive the hearts of men!“

116 - 116

Lucinius Crassus, surnamed the Rich. He was Consul with Pompey, and on one occasion displayed his vast wealth by giving an entertainment to the populance, at which the guests were so numerous that they occupied ten thousand tables. He was slain in a battle with the Parthians, and his head was sent to the Parthian king, Hyrodes, who had molten gold poured down its throat. Plutarch does not mention this crcumstance in his Life of Crassus, but says: –

”When the head of Crassus was brought to the door, the
tables were just taken away, and one Jason, a tragic actor
of the town of Tralles, was singing the scene in the Baccae
of Euripides concerning Agave. He was receiving much
applause, when Sillaces coming to the room, and having made
obeisance to the king, threw down the head of Crassus into
the midst of the company. The Parthians receiving it with
joy and acclamations, Sillaces, by the king's command, was
made to sit down, while Jason handed over the costume of
Pentheus to one of the dancers in the chorus, and taking up
the head of Crassus, and acting the part of a bacchante in
her frenzy, in a rapturous, impassioned manner, sang the
lyric passages,

'We've hunted down a mighty chase today
And from the mountain bring the noble
prey.'“

122 - 122

This is in answer to Dante's question, line 35: –

”And why only Thou dost renew these praises well deserved?“

128 - 128

The occasion of this quaking of the mountain is given, Canto XXI. 58.: –

”It trembles here, whenever any soul
Feels itself pure, so that it soars, or moves
To mount aloft, and such a cry attend it.“

130 - 130

An island in the AEgean Sea, in the centre of the Cyclades. It was thrown up by an earthquake, in order to receive Latona, when she gave birth to Apollo and Diana, – the Sun and the Moon.

136 - 136

Luke ii. 13, 14: ”And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.“

140 - 140

Gower, Conf. Amant., III. 5: –

”When Goddes sone also bore,
He sent his aungel down therefore,
Whom the shepherdes herden singe:
Pees to the men of welwillinge
In erthe be amonge us here.“