Styx: The river Styx figures variously in classic mythology, but usually (and in later myths always) as-a river of the Underworld. Dante, to heighten his symbolism. makes it a filthy marsh.
This marsh marks the first great division of Hell. Between Acheron and Styx are punished the sins of Incontinence (the Sins of the She-Wolf). This is the Upper Hell. Beyond Styx rise the flaming walls of the infernal city of Dis, within which are punished Violence and Fraud (the sins of the Lion, and the Sins of the Leopard). It is symbolically fitting that the approaches to the city of Hell should be across the filthiest of marshes.
131. a Great Tower: No special significance need be attributed to the Tower. It serves as a signaling point for calling the ferryman from Dis.
Canto VIII
CIRCLE FIVE: Styx
The Wrathful, Phlegyas
CIRCLE six: Dis
The Fallen Angels
The Poets stand at the edge of the swamp, and a mysterious signal flames from the great tower. It is answered from the darkness of the other side, and almost immediately the Poets see PHLEGYAS, the Boatman of Styx, racing toward them across the water, fast as a flying arrow. He comes avidly, thinking to find new souls for torment, and he howls with rage when he discovers the Poets. Once again, however, Virgil conquers wrath with a word and Phlegyas reluctantly gives them passage.
As they are crossing, a muddy soul rises before them. it is FILIPPO ARGENTl, one of the Wrathful. Dante recognizes him despite the filth with which he is covered, and he berates him soundly, even wishing to see him tormented further. Virgil approves Dante’s disdain and, as if in answer to Dante’s wrath, Argenti is suddenly set upon by all the other sinners present, who fall upon him and rip him to pieces.
The boat meanwhile has sped on, and before Argenti’s screams have died away, Dante sees the flaming red towers of Dis, the Capital of Hell. The great walls of the iron city block the way to the Lower Hell. Properly speaking, all the rest of Hell lies within the city walls, which separate the Upper and the Lower Hell.
Phlegyas deposits them at a great Iron Gate which they find to be guarded by the REBELLIOUS ANGELS. These creatures of Ultimate Evil, rebels against God Himself, refuse to let the Poets pass. Even Virgil is powerless against them, for Human Reason by itself cannot cope with the essence of Evil. Only Divine Aid can bring hopt. Virgil accordingly sends up a prayer for assistance and waits anxiously for a Heavenly Messenger to appear.
Returning to my theme, I say we came
to the foot of a Great Tower; but long before
we reached it through the marsh, two horns of flame
flared from the summit, one from either side,
and then, far off. so far we scarce could see it
across the mist, another flame replied.
I turned to that sea of all intelligence
saying: “What is this signal and counter-signal?
Who is it speaks with fire across this distance?”
And he then: “Look across the filthy slew:
you may already see the one they summon,
if the swamp vapors do not hide him from you.”
No twanging bowspring ever shot an arrow
that bored the air it rode dead to the mark
more swiftly than the flying skiff whose prow (15)
shot toward us over the polluted channel
with a single steersman at the helm who called:
“So, do I have you at last, you whelp of Hell?”
“Phlegyas, Phlegyas,” said my Lord and Guide,
“this time you waste your breath: you have us only
for the time it takes to cross to the other side.”
Phlegyas, the madman, blew his rage among
those muddy marshes like a cheat deceived,
or like a fool at some imagined wrong.
My Guide, whom all the fiend’s noise could not nettle,
boarded the skiff, motioning me to follow:
and not till I stepped aboard did it seem to settle
into the water. At once we left the shore,
that ancient hull riding more heavily
than it had ridden in all of time before. (30)
And as we ran on that dead swamp, the slime
rose before me, and from it a voice cried:
“Who are you that come here before your time?”
And I replied: “If I come, I do not remain.
But you, who are you, so fallen and so foul?”
And he: “I am one who weeps.” And I then:
“May you weep and wail to all eternity,
for I know you, hell-dog, filthy as you are.”
Then he stretched both hands to the boat, but warily
the Master shoved him back, crying, “Down! Down!
with the other dogs!” Then he embraced me saying:
“Indignant spirit, I kiss you as you frown.
Blessed be she who bore you. In world and time
this one was haughtier yet. Not one unbending
graces his memory. Here is his shadow in slime. (45)
How many living now, chancellors of wrath,
shall come to lie here yet in this pigmire,
leaving a curse to be their aftermath!”
And I: “Master, it would suit my whim
to see the wretch scrubbed down into the swill
before we leave this stinking sink and him.”
And he to me: “Before the other side
shows through the mist, you shall have all you ask.
This is a wish that should be gratified.”
And shortly after, I saw the loathsome spirit
so mangled by a swarm of muddy wraiths
that to this day I praise and thank God for it.
“After Filippo Argentil” all cried together.
The maddog Florentine wheeled at their cry
and bit himself for rage.
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