# Inferno Canto 33

*Exported from [Holy-Writings.com](https://www.holy-writings.com/) on 2026-06-18 — 1 clipping.*

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> 
> Canto XXXIII
> 
> Argument
> 
>      The Poet is told by Count Ugolino de' Gherardeschi of the cruel manner in
> which he and his children were famished in the tower at Pisa, by command of
> the Archbishop Ruggieri. He next discourses of the third round, called
> Ptolomea, wherein those are punished who have betrayed others under the
> semblance of kindness; and among these he finds the Friar Alberigo de'
> Manfredi, who tells him of one whose soul was already tormented in that place,
> though his body appeared still to be alive upon the earth, being yielded up to
> the governance of a fiend.
> 
> His jaws uplifting form their fell repast,
> That sinner wiped them on the hairs o' the head,
> Which he behind had mangled, then began:
> "Thy will obeying, I call up afresh
> Sorrow past cure; which, but to think of, wrings
> My heart, or ere I tell on 't. But if words,
> That I may utter, shall prove seed to bear
> Fruit of eternal infamy to him,
> The traitor whom I gnaw at, thou at once
> Shalt see me speak and weep. Who thou mayst be
> I know not, nor how here below art come:
> But Florentine thou seemest of a truth,
> When I do hear thee. Know, I was on earth
> Count Ugolino,[1] and the Archbishop he
> 
> [1: "Count Ugolino." - "In the year 1288, in the month of July, Pisa
> was much divided by competitors for the sovereignty; one party, composed of
> certain of the Guelfi, being headed by the Judge Nino di Gallura de' Visconti;
> another, consisting of others of the same faction, by the Count Ugolino de'
> Gherardeschi; and a third by the Archbishop Ruggieri degli Ubaldini, with the
> Lanfranchi, Sismondi, Gualandi, and other Ghibelline houses. The Count
> Ugolino, to effect his purpose, united with the archbishop and his party, and
> having betrayed Nino, his sister's son, they contrived that he and his
> followers should either be driven out of Pisa, or their persons seized. Nino
> hearing this, and not seeing any means of defending himself, retired to Calci,
> his castle, and formed an alliance with the Florentines and the people of
> Lucca, against the Pisans. The count, before Nino was gone, in order to cover
> his treachery, when everything was settled for his expulsion, quitted Pisa,
> and repaired to a manor of his called Settimo; whence, as soon as he was
> informed of Nino's departure, he returned to Pisa with great rejoicing and
> festivity, and was elevated to the supreme power with every demonstration of
> triumph and honor. But his greatness was not of long continuance. It pleased
> the Almighty that a total reverse of fortune should ensue, as a punishment for
> his acts of treachery and guilt; for he was said to have poisoned the Count
> Anselmo da Capraia, his sister's son, on account of the envy and fear excited
> in his mind by the highs' esteem in which the gracious manners of Anselmo were
> held by the Pisans. The power of the Guelfi being so much diminished, the
> archbishop devised means to betray the Count Ugolino, and caused him to be
> suddenly attacked in his palace by the fury of the people, whom he had
> exasperated, by telling them that Ugolino had betrayed Pisa, and given up
> their castles to the citizens of Florence and of Lucca. He was immediately
> compelled to surrender; his bastard son and his grandson fell in the assault;
> and two of his sons, with their two sons also, were conveyed to prison. . . .
> In the following March, the Pisans, who had imprisoned the Count Ugolino, with
> two of his sons and two of his grandchildren, the offspring of his son the
> Count Guelfo, in a tower on the Piazza of the Anziani, caused the tower to be
> locked, the key thrown into the Arno, and all food to be withheld from them.
> In a few days they died of hunger; but the Count first with loud cries
> declared his penitence, and yet neither priest nor friar was allowed to shrive
> him. All the five, when dead, were dragged out of the prison, and meanly
> interred; and from thenceforward the tower was called the Tower of Famine, and
> so shall ever be." G. Villani, lib. vii.]
> 
> Ruggieri. Why I neighbor him so close,
> Now list. That through effect of his ill thoughts
> In him my trust reposing, I was ta'en
> And after murder'd, need is not I tell.
> What therefore thou canst not have heard, that is,
> How cruel was the murder, shalt thou hear,
> And know if he have wrong'd me. A small grate
> Within that mew, which for my sake the name
> Of Famine bears, where others yet must pine,
> Already through its opening several moons
> Had shown me, when I slept the evil sleep
> That from the future tore the curtain off.
> This one, methought, as master of the sport,
> Rode forth to chase the gaunt wolf, and his whelps,
> Unto the mountain[2] which forbids the sight
> Of Lucca to the Pisan. With lean brachs
> Inquisitive and keen, before him ranged
> 
> [2: The mountain S. Giuliano between Pisa and Lucca.]
> 
> Lanfranchi with Sismondi and Gualandi.
> After short course the father and the sons
> Seem'd tired and lagging, and methought I saw
> The sharp tusks gore their sides. When I awoke,
> Before the dawn, amid their sleep I heard
> My sons (for they were with me) weep and ask
> For bread. Right cruel art thou, if no pang
> Thou feel at thinking what my heart foretold;
> And if not now, why use thy tears to flow?
> Now had they waken'd; and the hour drew near
> When they were wont to bring us food; the mind
> Of each misgave him through his dream, and I
> Heard, at its outlet underneath, lock'd up
> The horrible tower: whence, uttering not a word,
> I look'd upon the visage of my sons.
> I wept not: so all stone I felt within.
> They wept: and one, my little Anselmo, cried,
> 'Thou lookest so! Father, what ails thee?' Yet
> I shed no tear, nor answer'd all that day
> Nor the next night, until another sun
> Came out upon the world. When a faint beam
> Had to our doleful prison made its way,
> And in four countenances I described
> The image of my own, on either hand
> Through agony I bit; and they, who thought
> I did it through desire of feeding, rose
> O' the sudden, and cried, 'Father, we should grieve
> Far less if thou wouldst eat of us: thou gavest
> These weeds of miserable flesh we wear;
> And do thou strip them off from us again.'
> Then, not to make them sadder, I kept down
> My spirit in stillness. That day and the next
> We all were silent. Ah, obdurate earth!
> Why open'dst not upon us? When we came
> To the fourth day, then Gaddo at my feet
> Outstretch'd did fling him, crying, 'Hast no help
> For me, my father!' There he died; and e'en
> Plainly as thou seest me, saw I the three
> Fall one by one 'twixt the fifth day and sixth:
> Whence I betook me, now grown blind, to grope
> Over them all, and for three days aloud
> Call'd on them who were dead. Then, fasting got
> The mastery of grief." Thus having spoke,
> Once more upon the wretched skull his teeth
> He fasten'd like a mastiff's 'gainst the bone,
> Firm and unyielding. O thou Pisa! shame
> Of all the people, who their dwelling make
> In that fair region, where the Italian voice
> Is heard; since that thy neighbors are so slack
> To punish, from their deep foundations rise
> Capraia and Gorgona,[3] and dam up
> The mouth of Arno; that each soul in thee
> May perish in the waters. What if fame
> Reported that thy castles were betray'd
> By Ugolino, yet no right hadst thou
> To stretch his children on the rack. For them,
> Brigata, Uguccione, and the pair
> Of gentle ones, of whom my song hath told,
> Their tender years, thou modern Thebes, did make
> Uncapable of guilt. Onward we pass'd,
> Where others, skarf'd in rugged folds of ice,
> Not on their feet were turn'd, but each reversed.
> 
> [3: Small islands, near the mouth of the Arno.]
> 
> There, very weeping suffers not to weep;
> For, at their eyes, grief, seeking passage, finds
> Impediment, and rolling inward turns
> For increase of sharp anguish: the first tears
> Hang cluster'd, and like crystal vizors show,
> Under the socket brimming all the cup.
> 
> Now though the cold had from my face dislodged
> each feeling, as 't were callous, yet me seem'd
> Some breath of wind I felt. "Whence cometh this,"
> Said I, "my Master? Is not here below
> All vapor quench'd?" - "Thou shalt be speedily,"
> He answer'd, "where thine eyes shall tell thee whence,
> The cause descrying of this airy shower."
> 
> Then cried out one, in the chill crust who mourn'd:
> "O souls! so cruel, that the farthest post
> Hath been assign'd you, from this face remove
> The harden'd veil; that I may vent the grief
> Impregnate at my heart, some little space,
> 
> Ere it congeal again." I thus replied:
> "Say who thou wast, if thou wouldst have mine aid;
> And if I extricate thee not, far down
> As to the lowest ice may I descend."
> 
> "The friar Alberigo,"[4] answer'd he,
> "Am I, who from the evil garden pluck'd
> Its fruitage, and am here repaid, the date
> More luscious for my fig." - "Hah!" I exclaim'd,
> "Art thou, too, dead?" "How in the world aloft
> It fareth with my body," answer'd he,
> "I am right ignorant. Such privilege
> Hath Ptolomea,[5] that oft - times the soul
> Drops hither, ere by Atropos divorced.
> And that thou mayst wipe out more willingly
> The glazed tear - drops that o'erlay mine eyes,
> Know that the soul, that moment she betrays,
> As I did, yields her body to
> a fiend
> Who after moves and governs it at will,
> Till all its time be rounded: headlong she
> Falls to this cistern. And perchance above
> Doth yet appear the body of a ghost,
> Who here behind me winters. Him thou know'st,
> If thou but newly art arrived below.
> The years are many that have passed away,
> Since to this fastness Branca Doria[6] came."
> 
> [4: The friar Alberigo," Alberigo de' Manfredi, of Faenza, one of the
> Frati Godenti (Joyous Friars), who having quarrelled with some of his
> brotherhood, under pretence of wishing to be reconciled, invited them to a
> banquet, at the conclusion of which he called for the fruit, a signal for the
> assassins to rush in and despatch those whom he had marked for destruction.
> Hence, adds Landino, it is said proverbially of one who has been stabbed, that
> he had had some of the friar Alberigo's fruit.]
> 
> [5: "Ptolomea." This circle is named Ptolomea from Ptolemy the son of
> Abubus, by whom Simon and his sons were murdered, at a great banquet he had
> made for them. See I Maccabees, ch. xvi. Or from Ptolemy, King of Egypt, the
> betrayer of Pompey the Great.]
> 
> [6: "Branca Doria." The family of Doria was possessed of great
> influence in Genoa. Branca is said to have murdered his father - in - law,
> Michel Zanche. See Canto xxii.]
> 
> "Now," answer'd I, "methinks thou mockest me;
> For Branca Doria never yet hath died,
> But doth all natural functions of a man,
> Eats, drinks, and sleeps, and putteth raiment on."
> 
> He thus: "Not yet unto that upper foss
> By th' evil talons guarded, where the pitch
> Tenacious boils, had Michel Zanche reach'd,
> When this one left a demon in his stead
> In his own body, and of one his kin,
> Who with him treachery wrought. But now put forth
> Thy hand, and ope mine eyes." I oped them not.
> Ill manners were best courtesy to him.
> 
> Ah Genoese! men perverse in every way
> With every foulness stain'd why from the earth
> Are ye not cancel'd? Such an one of yours
> I with Romagna's darkest spirit[7] found,
> As, for his doings, even now in soul
> Is in Cocytus plunged, and yet doth seem
> In body still alive upon the earth.
> 
> [7: The friar Alberigo.]
>
> — *Inferno Canto 33*