hy tramplest thou on me? If
thou comest not to increase the vengeance for Montaperti, why dost thou
molest me?' I said: 'What art thou who thus reproachest others?' 'Nay
who art thou' he answered 'that through the Antenora goest, smiting the
cheeks of others, so that if thou wert alive, it were too much.' 'I am
alive' was my reply 'and if thou seekest fame, it may be precious to
thee, that I put thy name among the other notes.' And he to me. 'The
contrary is what I long for, take thyself away!' Then I seized him by
the afterscalp and said: 'It will be necessary that thou name thyself or
that not a hair remain upon thee here.' Whence he to me: 'Even if thou
unhair me I will not tell thee who I am.' I already had his hair coiled
on my hand and had plucked off more than one tuft of it, he barking and
keeping down his eyes, when another cried, 'What ails thee Bocca?'
Having thus learned the sinner's name, the poet releases him, saying:
'accursed traitor I do not want thee to speak, for to thy shame I will
bear true tidings'" (Inf., XXXII, 97.) Some may say that it is to Dante's
shame that he shows himself so devoid of pity.

Another example would seem to confirm this startling view of Dante's
character. At the bottom of Hell, eager to learn the identity of a
reprobate, a certain Friar Albergo, the poet promises him in return for
the desired information to remove the ice from his eyes so that he may
have "the poor consolation of grief unchecked."

"Remove the hard veils from my face that I may vent the grief which
stuffs my heart, a little ere the weeping freeze again! Wherefore I said
to him. 'If thou woulds't have me aid thee, tell me who thou art, and if
I do not extricate thee, may I have to go to the bottom of the ice.'"
The poet of course knows that he must go thither to continue his journey
to Purgatory, but the reprobate soul is unaware of such a course, and
believes that the visitor has fortified his promise with a true oath.
Both his name and the damning story of his life are soon told by the
poor wretch, who then asks Dante for the fulfillment of the
promise--the removal of the ice so that sight may be restored even for a
minute. "'Open my eyes' he said--but I opened them not, to be rude to
him was courtesy" (Inf., XXXIII, 148.) Does not Dante by his own words
show himself deep-dyed in hatred and cruelty?

"The case against him" says Dinsmore, "is not so bad as the first
reading would indicate. Part of the expla