Longfellow (1867), Inf. 17.001

In this Canto is described the punishment of Usurers, as sinners against Nature and Art. See Inf. XI. 109: --

"And since the usurer takes another way,
Nature herself in her follower
Disdains he, for elsewhere he puts his hope."

The Monster Geryon, here used as the symbol of Fraud, was born of Chrysaor and Callirrhoe, and is generally represented by the poets as having three bodies and three heads. He was in ancient times King of Hesperia or Spain, living on Erytheia, the Red Island of sunset, and was slain by Hercules, who drove away his beautiful oxen. The nimble fancy of Hawthorne thus depicts him in his Wonder-Book, p. 148: --

"But it was really and truly an old man? Certainly at first sight it looked very like one; but on closer inspection, it rather seemed to be some kind of a creature that lived in the sea. For on his legs and arms there were scales, such as fishes have; he was web-footed and web-fingered, after the fashion of a duck; and his long beard, being of a greenish tinge, had more the appearance of a tuft of sea-weed than of an ordinary beard. Have you never seen a stick of timber, that has been long tossed about by the waves, and has got all overgrown with barnacles, and at last, drifting ashore, seems to have been thrown up from the very deepest bottom of the sea? Well, the old man would have put you in mind of just such a wave-tost spar."

The three bodies and three heads, which old poetic fable has given to the monster Geryon, are interpreted by modern prose as meaning the three Balearic Islands, Majorca, Minorca, and Ivica, over which he reigned.


Longfellow (1867), Inf. 17.010

Ariosto, Orlando Furioso, XIV. 87, Rose's Tr., thus depicts Fraud: --

"With pleasing mien, grave walk, and decent vest,
Fraud rolled her eyeballs humbly in her head;
And such benign and modest speech possest,
She might a Gabriel seem who Ave said.
Foul was she and deformed in all the rest;
But with a mantle, long and widely spread,
Concealed her hideous parts; and evermore
Beneath the stole a poisoned dagger wore."

The Gabriel saying Ave is from Dante, Purgatory, X. 40: --

"One would have sworn that he was saying Ave."


Longfellow (1867), Inf. 17.017

Tartars nor Turks, "Who are most perfect masters therein," says Boccaccio, "as we can clearly see in Tartarian cloths, which truly are so skilfully woven, that no painter with his brush could equal, much less surpass them. The Tartars are...." And with this unfinished sentence close the Lectures upon Dante, begun by Giovanni Boccaccio on Sunday, August 9, 1373, in the church of San Stefano, in Florence. That there were some critics among his audience is apparent from this sonnet, which he addressed "to one who had censured his public Exposition of Dante." See D. G. Rosetti, Early Italian Poets, p. 447: --

"If Dante mourns, there wheresoe'er he be,
That such high fancies of a soul so proud
Should be laid open to the vulgar crowd,
(As, touching my Discourse, I'm told by thee,)
This were my grevious pain; and certainly
My proper blame shoud not be disavowed;
Though hereof somewhat, I declare aloud,
Where due to others, not alone to me.
False hopes, true poverty, and therewithal
The blinded judgement of a host of friends,
And their enteaties, made that I did thus.
But of all this there is no gain at all
Unto the thankless souls with whose base ends
Nothing agrees that's great or generous."


Longfellow (1867), Inf. 17.018

Ovid, Metamorph. VI.: --

"One at the loom so excellently skilled
That to the Goddess she refused to yield."


Longfellow (1867), Inf. 17.057

Their love of gold still haunting them in the other world.


Longfellow (1867), Inf. 17.059

The arms of the Gianfigliacci of Florence.


Longfellow (1867), Inf. 17.063

The arms of the Ubbriachi of Florence.


Longfellow (1867), Inf. 17.064

The Scrovigni of Padua.


Longfellow (1867), Inf. 17.068

Vitaliano del Dente of Padua.


Longfellow (1867), Inf. 17.073

Giovanni Bujamonte, who seems to have had the ill-repute of being the greatest usurer of his day, called here in irony the "soverign cavalier."


Longfellow (1867), Inf. 17.074

As the ass-driver did in the streets of Florence, when Dante beat him for singing his verses amiss. See Sachetti, Nov. CXV.


Longfellow (1867), Inf. 17.078

Dante makes as short work with these usurers, as if he had been a curious traveller walking through the Ghetto of Rome, or the Judengasse of Frankfort.


Longfellow (1867), Inf. 17.107

Ovid, Metamorph. II., Addison's Tr.: --

"Half dead with sudden fear he dropt the reins;
The horses felt `em loose upon their manes,
And, flying out through all the plains above,
Ran uncontrolled where-er their fury drove;
Rushed on the stars, and through a pathless way
Of unknown regions hurried on the day.
And now above, and now below they flew,
And near the earth the burning chariot drew.

At once from life and from the chariot driv'n,
Th'ambitious boy fell thunder-struck from heav'n.
The horses started with a sudden bound,
And flung the reins and chariot to the ground:
The studden harness from their necks they broke,
Here fell a wheel, and here a silver spoke,
Here were the beam and axle torn away;

And, scatter'd o'er the earth, the shining fragments lay.
The breathless Phaeton, with flaming hair,
Shot from the chariot, like a falling star,
That in a summer's ev'ning from the top
Of heav'n drops down, or seems at least to drop;
Till on the Po his blasted corpse was hurled,
Far from his counry, in the Western World."


Longfellow (1867), Inf. 17.108

The Milky Way. In Spanish El camino de Santiago; in the Northern Mythology the pathway of the ghosts going to Valhalla.


Longfellow (1867), Inf. 17.109

Ovid, Metamorph. VIII., Croxall's Tr.: --

"The soft'ning was, that felt a nearer sun,
Dissolv'd apace, and soon began to run.
The youth in vain his melting pinions shakes,
His feathers gone, no longer air he takes.
O father, father, as he strove to cry,
Down to the sea he tumbled from on high,
And found his fate; yet still subsists by fame,
Among those waters that retain his name.
The father, now no more a father, cries,
Ho, Icarus! where are you? as he flies:
Where shall I seek my boy? he cries again,
And saw his feathers scattered on the main."


Longfellow (1867), Inf. 17.136

Lucan, Pharsal. I.: --

"To him the Balearic sling is slow,
And the shaft loiters from the Parthian bow."