Dante the poet has gotten caught up in his own simile, which is long, complicated, and unwieldy, enough so that it brings the plot to a standstill.

But Virgil to the rescue! The classical poet gets us back to the plot. And what a plot it is! Here comes the first old-school demon we've fully seen, the old medieval morality play demon, the one that's probably lurking under your bed. He's got a grifter by the hoof and he's going up to Lucca back for more.

Join me, Mark Scarbrough, as we explore the fifth evil pouch (among the "malebolge") in the eighth circle of fraud, here in Canto XXI of INFERNO. It's fun, maybe funny, and stuffed with Dante's brilliant craft and personal history.

Here are the segments of this episode of WALKING WITH DANTE:

[01:43] My English translation of this passage. If you'd like to read along, just scroll down this page.

[03:44] Virgil calls out "watch out!" Is it an actual warning? Or a literary one? Maybe both, because Virgil gets the plot moving again.

[06:07] A little about Dante-the-pilgrim's fear in these episodes from the fifth evil pouch. This podcast segment is just an introduction to a much larger problem. Why is our pilgrim so afraid when he knows his journey is willed by Beatrice and those above her in heaven?

[08:17] The black demon appears! There may be autobiographical details here because Dante-the-poet was exiled for, yep, barratry.

[13:58] A who's who in the demon's speech: the Malebrance, Saint Zita, the unnamed sinner held by the tendon, and this Luccan boss Bonturo.

And here’s my translation of Inferno, Canto XXI, Lines 22 – 45

While my gaze was stuck on the stuff down there,

My guide said to me, “Watch out! Watch out!”

Then he yanked me over to him from where I stood.

 

At that, I turned around like a guy who looks

Almost too late at what he surely must flee

(So dispirited is he with sudden fear,

 

Even if, looking back, he doesn’t hesitate to take flight)

And I see back behind us a black devil

Running right at us along the crag.

 

Wow, how insanely fierce he looked!

And how disgusting his bearing appeared to me,

With his wings spread wide and so light on his feet!

 

Draped over his shoulders, which were themselves sharp and huge,

A sinner was clutched tight by the haunches and

Hooked through the sinews at his heels.

 

From our bridge, the demon called out, “Hey, you Evil Talons [Malebranche],

Behold an elder from Saint Zita in Lucca!

Dunk him under, while I go back for another

 

“In that city, which is stocked up with this sort.

Everybody’s a barrator there, except for Bonturo—

They morph ‘no’ into ‘yes’ for simple cash.”

 

He chucked the guy down and turned back

Along the hard crag. Man, a mastiff let loose

Never made off so fast after a thief.