Showing posts with label Brutus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Brutus. Show all posts

Wednesday, 21 March 2012

Heart of the Inferno

Shivering violently in the chill wind, Dante and Virgil ventured onward, closer and closer to very centre of the Inferno. Leaving the deranged shouting of Count Ugolino far behind (for the previous episode in the story of the Inferno, please click here), our poet could not veil his fear, try though he might, for he was grimly aware that somewhere down here, the greatest of all traitors must lie - Lucifer himself...


Dante and Virgil upon Cocytus
Painting by Gustave Doré
After a precarious march further along the frozen lake of Cocytus, Dante noticed that the souls appeared to be fixed deeper into the ice, with all but their tortured faces swallowed by Cocytus. The souls were in agony, for in their plight they wept, but the sheer cold had frozen their tears, as though each bore a visor of crystal over their faces. One such soul gave a muffled cry, and begged our pilgrims to break the ice from his stricken face. Dante, hearing his voice, called back, "If this is what you want, tell me your name; and if I do not help you, may I be forced to drop beneath this ice!" The sinner replied that he was Friar Alberigo, and that he paid the price in Hell even whilst his body still lived on, far above. Years before, at a banquet, he had ordered the deaths of his own brother and nephew. The Friar had called for some figs, and at this prearranged signal, his guards had rushed in and slain his kin. For his heinous betrayal of his guests and family, his immortal soul had been cast by Fate into Hell, as a demon took possession of his mortal form. This penultimate area of Cocytus was Tolomea, Round Three of the Ninth Circle of Hell, to which are condemned those who violate the holy bond between a host and his guest. Unlike all other regions of Hell, the sinners here can well still be alive on Earth, yet bound too, in unholy Cocytus. The Friar speaks too of Branca D'Oria, a fellow sinner bound in the ice, a man whom Dante knew in life. Stunned at this news, and appalled at his crimes, Dante ignored the Friar's plea to clear the ice from his eyes, and sternly walked on.


Lucifer
Photograph taken by the author in the Baptistery
of St. John, Florence
At last, after braving all the perils of the Inferno, Dante had now arrived at the final lair of evil, Judecca, the Fourth Round of the Ninth Circle of Hell. To here are banished the very gravest of sinners, those who have betrayed their own benefactors. In the distant fog, a gargantuan outline began to take form, just as a mountain emerges from a thick mist. The deathly cold gale was so intense that Dante held his head down, as his eyes fell upon a morbid sight. For here, the souls of the damned were frozen deep within Cocytus, their condemned bodies held in suspended animation, in cruelly contorted positions, for as far as the eye could see into the depths of the lake. Completely submerged in ice, no sound came from their lips, but for frantic whimpering destined never to be heard. Dante shuddered at the eerie silence, but Virgil took his arm and led him on. The time had come. Bracing him, Virgil consoled his fellow poet:


                            " This is he, this is Dis; this is the place
                               that calls for all the courage you have in you.

                               How chilled and nerveless, Reader, I felt then;
                               do not ask me - I cannot write about it -
                               there are no words to tell you how I felt.

                               I did not die - I was not living either!
                               Try to imagine, if you can imagine,
                               me there, deprived of life and death at once... "
                                           - DANTE LOOKS UPON THE FACE OF SATAN


Satan Bound
Engraving by Gustave Doré
The mist lifted, and there, in all his infernal glory, lay Lucifer himself, bound to the waist by the icy clutches of Cocytus. Once the most beautiful of all the angels of Heaven, Lucifer, the Morning Star, was perfect in all things but for the most terrible of things, his pride. Refusing to bow to the Son of God, he dared to openly challenge God for the throne of Heaven, and open war thundered across the vaults of Heaven (for more about this, please click here). Defeated, he, along with the one third of the angelic host that had sided with him, were cast out of Heaven, and hurled to ruinous perdition in Hell. Taking the new name of Satan, as one of only two beings to have committed open treachery against God, he now endured an eternity of retribution for his crimes, at the very Pit of Hell. Dante stood transfixed, overcome with awe at the sight of him. Nothing could have prepared him for the colossal being now bound before him. "My height is closer to the height of giants than theirs is to the length of his great arms", Dante remarks. The former archangel towered high above Cocytus, even though his body from the waist down stretched far below the surface. From his titanic head, three faces burst angrily forth, each holding a sinner tight in its jaws. A pair of vast, bat like wings lay fixed below each, the pure white plumage that once adorned them having been burned away after his treachery against the Most High. Tears flowed from his blazing eyes, tears of rage mingled with grief at his lost Paradise. Six streams of tears flowed down his body, mixing with the blood dripping from his mouth. Still he sought to escape his infernal prison, as he violently flapped his enormous wings, desperate to break free of Cocytus. But in his pride, he was blind to the reality that the icy winds generated by his wings merely prolonged his suffering, constantly freezing the waters of the lake.

In the jaws of the left face, one as black as the night, a sinner convulsed in desperation. Virgil revealed to Dante his identity as Marcus Junius Brutus, the man who drove the blade into Julius Caesar, betraying his ruler, and the united Italy that he brought. In the jaws of the right face, one yellow as sulphur, another sinner jerked in pain. He was Gaius Cassius Longinus, a fellow conspirator of Brutus, and another of the assassins of Caesar. But in the central face, one red with fury, was the only other soul apart from Satan himself who had directly betrayed God, all for thirty pieces of silver - Judas Iscariot. The teeth of Satan crunched down upon his twitching body without end, but he also suffered another brutal torture, as the claws of the devil slashed open his body, tearing the flesh asunder.


Dante gazes upon Mount Purgatory
Painting by Bronzino 
The grisly sight caused a ripple of nausea in Dante, and Virgil saw that the time had come to leave the Inferno at last, though alas there was only one way to leave. Waiting for the opportune moment, Virgil seized Dante's arm and dashed forwards, latching onto the tangled and matted hair that grew on Satan's sides. Dante held on for dear life to Virgil's shoulder, as the great Roman poet descended down and down, past the surface of freezing Cocytus. Then, just as the two pilgrim reached Satan's thigh, the world seemed to Dante to turn on its head. Virgil adjusted his grip, and turned to face the feet of the devil, and began to climb. Puzzled, Dante held on still. At last, they came to a rocky cavern, and the two stopped for a rest. Glancing back, there stood the two towering legs of Satan, bursting forth into the air. For they had passed the very core of the cosmos, and gravity had turned on its head. Virgil explained that Satan had been thrown down to Hell with such force that he had smashed his way through the Earth, and now lay frozen in the same position he had fallen, many millennia ago. The very cavern they sat in now was caused when the land had been forced upward by the Morning Star's fall. Eager to put as much distance between themselves and Satan as possible, the two set off together along the rising road, in darkness. After what seemed an age, Dante spotted something that seemed more glorious than anything he had seen for an age. Stars! They had done it, they had reached the surface at last. But for Dante, the adventure had only just begun. Ahead lay a vast mountain, towering high. The Mountain of Purgatory...

With this, the story of the Inferno comes to an end, but the Divine Comedy has only begun, as Dante slowly makes his way toward the ultimate destination, the light of God in Heaven itself. The Inferno, however, has become legendary in its own right, and immortalised Dante as the greatest of all Italian poets, and a father of Western literature. Written in short and easily read chapters, or cantos as they are called, the Inferno is a remarkable read, as engaging today as it was when Dante wrote it as an exile from his native Florence, in the early years of the fourteenth century. Few things have been written which so emphatically warn of the consequences of evil...

The Inferno is readily, and easily available from Amazon, and is more than worthy of a position on your shelf:


United Kingdom

Penguin Classics:
Dante: Inferno (Penguin Classics)
(A translation which retains much of the poetic meter, with good illustrations and notes, as well as the original Italian alongside the English)

Oxford World's Classics:
The Divine Comedy (Oxford World's Classics)
(A combined translation of all three parts of the Divine Comedy; the Inferno, the Purgatorio and the Paradisio, all in a highly accessible style)

United States

Penguin Classics:
The Divine Comedy: Volume 1: Inferno (Penguin Classics) (Pt. 1)
(A translation which retains much of the poetic meter, with good illustrations and notes, as well as the original Italian alongside the English)

Oxford World's Classics:
The Divine Comedy (Oxford World's Classics)
(A combined translation of all three parts of the Divine Comedy, the Inferno, the Purgatorio and the Paradisio, all in a highly accessible style)

Wednesday, 20 October 2010

Horatius at the Bridge

The rolling hills of Etruria
Photograph by the author
The birth of the Republic was a defining moment in the history of Rome, and marked a key turning point in the lives of its people. Since the founding of the City in 753 BC, Rome had seen the rule of Seven Great Kings, and had risen from a group of mud huts on the Palatine Hill to the first city in Latium. But two hundred and forty four years after the founding of the city, mobilised by the propaganda of Lucius Junius Brutus, the people of Rome had cast out their seventh King – Lucius Tarquinius Superbus, known infamously to history as Tarquin the Proud. Denounced as an arrogant tyrant, Tarquin had returned from a campaign one day to find the Gates of Rome sealed before him and the people jeering from the walls. Enraged, the King turned to his kin, the Etruscan peoples, to aid him in taking back his rightful throne. What later followed would be a conflict which would give rise to many heroes of the Republic, first among whom was the man who stood alone against the might of Etruria in defence of his city – Publius Horatius ‘Cocles’ (a name he bore in commemoration of an eye he lost in war).
Immortalised only seconds after his valiant defense, the fortitude of Horatius captured the visions of many great writers and poets of Rome and Greece. There was a time when every English schoolboy learned to memorise the words of one of my all time favourite works -Lord Macaulay’s famous poem Horatius. One man, one Roman against impossible odds, it was a golden age of older days, when heroes abounded and petty squabbles were not yet born, and legends were forged.
The King and his family were forced to flee Rome before the mob, and called on the might of the Etruscan League for aid. Many great cities answered Tarquin’s summons, including the powerful cities of Veii and Tarquinii, but greatest of all was the city of Clusium, and its widely renowned King Lars Porsenna. Seeing the danger, should Rome’s new idea of a Republic spread to other cities, Lars Porsenna raised his countrymen to war:

                                          “ Lars Porsenna of Clusium
                                                    By the Nine Gods he swore
                                            That the great House of Tarquin
                                                    Should suffer wrong no more.
                                            By the Nine Gods he swore it,
                                                    And named a trysting day,
                                            And bade his messengers ride forth,
                                                    East and West and South and North,
                                            To summon his array. ”
                                                              - LARS PORSENNA ROUSES ETRURIA TO WAR

Thus Etruria’s might marched on the young city of Rome. Within the city, panic abounded as the Republic sent forth its men to meet Porsenna, but was overrun on the Janiculum Hill. “The enemy forces came pouring down the Hill, while the Roman troops, throwing away their weapons, were behaving more like an undisciplined rabble than a fighting force”. The broken men fled across the great bridge, the Pons Sublicius, but among them one man stood firm:

Horatius
Engraving by Hendrik Goltzius

              
               “ Then out spake brave Horatius,
                           The Captain of the Gate:
                 'To every man upon this earth
                            Death cometh soon or late.
                  And how can men die better
                            Than facing fearful odds,
                  For the ashes of his fathers,
                            And the temples of his gods, ”
                          - HORATIUS STANDS FIRM
                        
  
 
Horatius stands alone
Painting in the Capitoline Museums
Among his fleeing countrymen, two men – Spurius Lartius and Titus Herminius – turned at his words, ashamed to abandon his side. The three pledged their lives to hold the Bridge, until it be destroyed behind them. Lest the Etruscans take the Bridge and the City itself, wealth and class no longer divided Rome, as senator and plebeian alike began to tear apart the timbers of the Bridge. Amused at the three men stood before them, many times the Etruscans charged, and many times the three threw them back. Soon the Bridge began to creak and groan, and Horatius bade loyal Lartius and Herminius to flee to the city, as he alone stood as the last planks fell. Cries flew from the city calling Horatius to return before the hour grew late, but the mighty warrior stood firm and dared Etruria's finest to take arms against him:


  “ For the pursuers, looking upon him as a madman who was courting death,
    Dared no longer come to grips with him... But standing massed at a distance,
    They hurled spears, javelins, and large stones at him,
    And those who were not supplied with these threw the swords and bucklers of the slain. ”
                                                     - THE ETRUSCANS TRY TO OVERCOME HORATIUS

Horatius mocked his foes as tyrant’s slaves and careless of their own liberty, and challenged all among them to single combat. The Etruscans were struck dumb at the sight before them, for:

                                             “ Alone stood brave Horatius,
                                                         But constant still in mind;
                                               Thrice thirty thousand foes before,
                                                        And the broad flood behind.
                                              ‘Down with him!’ cried false Sextus,
                                                       With a smile on his pale face.
                                              ‘Now yield thee’, cried Lars Porsenna,
                                                      ‘Now yield thee to our grace’. ”
                                                                 - HORATIUS STANDS DEFIANT

The great man’s wounds grew grave, as lance and arrow pierced his flesh. The air was rent with a mighty crack as Pons Sublicius crashed into the Tiber. His ploy successful, Horatius raised his eyes to the Heavens with prayer:


The goddess Roma spurs on Horatius
Painting by Charles Le Brun
                        
                                         “ ‘Oh Tiber! Father Tiber!
                                                      To whom the Romans pray,
                                             A Roman’s life, a Roman’s arms
                                                      Take thou in charge this day!’
                                             So he spake, and speaking sheathed
                                                      The good sword by his side,
                                              And with his harness on his back,
                                                       Plunged headlong in the tide. ”
                                                              - HORATIUS PRAYS TO FATHER TIBER

A shout of triumph from the city, as their saviour crossed the Tiber, a moan of despair from their foe. But the currents of the Tiber were strong, and the wounded hero fought hard to reach the Latin banks:

                                          “ ‘Curse on him!’ qouth false Sextus;
                                                     ‘Will not the villain drown?
                                              But for this stay, ere close of day
                                                      We should have sacked the town!’
                                             ‘Heaven help!’ quoth Lars Porsenna
                                                     ‘And bring him safe to shore;
                                              For such a gallant feat of arms
                                                      Was never seen before. ”
                                                               - LARS PORSENNA ADMIRES HORATIUS

People rushed from their homes to see brave Horatius, sure they were of the mortality of his wounds. But Horatius lived and was hailed a hero of the Republic. A bronze statue was raised to him in the most prominent part of the Forum, and to him was gifted as much land as he could drive a plough around in one day. Rome was saved, but the siege continued, and pestilence struck the Seven Hills. The blockade began to hit home, and starvation became the norm, yet for all their toil, each man ensured that one among them would not die for want of food.
The story of Horatius was legendary in Ancient times, it is no less so in modern times. Lord Macaulay's poem was responsible for the rise in the popularity of the legend once more, and is a personal favourite of my own. The story can be found in many sources, all of which can be acquired very easily from Amazon:
United Kingdom
A Roman Account:
The Early History of Rome: Bks. 1-5 (Penguin Classics)
(The full story of the Rise of Rome, including the defence of Horatius)
A Greek Account:
Roman Antiquities: v.3: Vol 3 (Loeb Classical Library)
(An account of the legendary rise of Rome from a Romanised Greek perspective)
Lord Macaulay's Poem:
Lays of Ancient Rome (Dodo Press)
(An iconic and expertly crafted poetic retelling) 
United States
A Roman Account:
Livy: The Early History of Rome, Books I-V (Penguin Classics) (Bks. 1-5)
(The full story of the Rise of Rome, including the defence of Horatius)
A Greek Account:
Dionysius of Halicarnassus: Roman Antiquities, Volume III, Books V-VI, 48 (Loeb Classical Library No. 357)
(An account of the legendary rise of Rome from a Romanised Greek perspective)
Lord Macaulay's Poem:
The Lays of Ancient Rome
(An iconic and expertly crafted poetic retelling)