Paradiso: Canto XVI

The boast of blood.—Cacciaguida continues his discourse concerning the old and the new Florence.

O thou small nobleness of our blood! If thou makest folk glory in thee down here, where our affection languishes, it will nevermore be a marvel to me; for there, where appetite is not perverted, I mean in Heaven, I myself gloried in thee. Truly art thou a cloak which quickly shortens, so that, if day by day it be not pieced, Time goeth round about it with his shears.

With the YOU, which Rome first tolerated, in which her family least perseveres, my words began again. Whereat Beatrice, who was a little withdrawn, smiling, seemed like her who coughed at the first fault that is written of Guenever. I began, “You are my father, you give me all confidence to speak; you lift me so that I am more than I. Through so many streams is my mind filled with gladness that it makes of itself a joy, in that it can bear this and not burst. Tell me then, beloved first source of me, who were your ancestors, and what were the years that were numbered in your boyhood. Tell me of the sheepfold of St. John, how large it was then, and who were the people within it worthy of the highest seats.”

As a coal quickens to flame at the blowing of the winds, so I saw that light become resplendent at my blandishments, and as it became more beautiful to my eyes, so with voice more dulcet and soft, but not with this modern speech, it said to me, “From that clay on which Ave was said, unto the birth in which my mother, who. now is sainted, was lightened of me with whom she was burdened, this fire had come to its Lion five hundred, fifty, and thirty times to reinflame itself beneath his paw. My ancestors and I were born in the place where the last ward is first found by him who runs in your annual game. Let it suffice to hear this of my elders. Who they were, and whence they came thither, it is more becoming to leave untold than to recount.

“All those able to bear arms who at that time were there, between Mars and the Baptist, were the fifth of them who are living. But the citizenship, which is now mixed with Campi and with Certaldo and with Figghine, was to be seen pure in the lowest artisan. Oh, how much better it would be that those folk of whom I speak were neighbors, and to have your confine at Galluzzo and at Trespiano, than to have them within, and to endure the stench of the churl of Aguglione, and of him of Signa, who already has his eye sharp for barratry!

“If the people which most degenerates in the world had not been as a stepdame unto Caesar, but like a mother benignant to her son, there is one now a Florentine who changes money and traffics, who would have returned to Simifonti, there where his grandsire used to go begging. Montemurlo would still belong to its Counts, the Cerchi would be in the parish of Acone, and perhaps the Buondelmonti in Valdigreve. The confusion of persons has always been the beginning of the harm of the city, as in the body the food which is added. And a blind bull falls more headlong than the blind lamb; and oftentimes one sword cuts more and better than five. If thou regardest Luni and Urbisaglia, how they have gone, and how Chiusi and Sinigaglia are going their way after them, to hear how families are undone will not appear to thee a strange thing or a bard, since cities have their term. Your things all have their death even as ye; but it is concealed in some that last long, while lives are short. And as the revolution of the heaven of the Moon covers and uncovers the shores without a pause, so fortune does with Florence. Wherefore what I shall tell of the high Florentines, whose fame is hidden by time, should not appear to thee a marvellous thing. I saw the Ughi, and I saw the Catellini, Filippi, Greci, Ormanni, and Alberichi, even in their decline, illustrious citizens; and I saw, as great as they were old, with those of the Sannella, those of the Area, and Soldanieri, and Ardinghi, and Bostiebi. Over the gate which at present is laden with new felony of such weight that soon there will be jettison from the bark, were the Ravignani, from whom the Count Guido is descended, and whosoever since has taken the name of the high Bellincione. He of the Pressa knew already bow one needs to rule, and Galigaio already had in his house the gilded hilt and pummel. Great were already the column of the Vair, the Sacchetti, Giuochi, Fifanti, and Barucci, and Galli, and they who blush for the bushel. The stock from which the Calfucci sprang was already great, and already the Sizii. and Arrigucci had been drawn to curule chairs. Oh how great did I see those who have been undone by their pride! and the balls of gold made Florence flourish with all their great deeds. So did the fathers of those who always,when your church is vacant, become fat, staying in consistory. The overweening race which is as a dragon behind him who flies, and to him who shows tooth or purse is gentle as a lamb, already was coming up, but from small folk, so that it pleased not Ubertin Donato that his father-in-law should afterwards make him their relation. Already had Caponsacco descended into the market place down from Fiesole, and already was Giuda a good citizen, and Infangato. I will tell a thing incredible and true: into the little circle one entered by a gate which was named for those of the Pear. Every one who bears the beautiful ensign of the great baron whose name and whose praise the feast of Thomas revives, from him had knighthood and privilege; although to-day he who binds it with a border unites himself with the populace. Already there were Gualterotti and Importuni; and Borgo would now be more quiet, if they had gone hung for new neighbors. The house of which was born your weeping, through its just indignation which has slain you, and put an end to your glad living, was honored, both itself and its consorts. O Buondelmonte, how ill didst thou flee its nuptials through the persuasions of another! Many would be glad who now are sorrowful, if God had conceded thee to the Ema the first time that thou camest to the city. But it behoved that Florence in her last peace should offer a victim to that broken stone which guards the bridge.

“With these families, and with others with them, I saw Florence in such repose that she had no occasion why she should weep. With these families I saw her people so glorious and so just, that the lily was never set reversed upon the staff, nor had it been made blood-red by division.”