Day 12: Examining the beast within

There is some pretty powerful imagery in Canto XXII.  The first lines talked about descending along an alpine bank and seeing "a toppled mass of rock that struck the Adige on its flank, this side of Trent," describing a real life Trent nestled in the Alps.  There are boulders everywhere styming passages.  All paths are redirected to a ravine where the most frightening of beasts, the infamous Minotaur of Crete awaits.  When he sees our travelers he is so inscensed that he begins biting himself, fully inhabiting the animal side of his dualistic self. Dante describes the biting like one whom fury devastates within, and it that terrific stanza fully encapsulates the fury of this circle.  Those confined here exhibits traits far closer to beast than man.  Their anger consumes them, and in this place of destruction and natural fury is the ideal backdrop for such sinners.  The river Flegetonte flows through it, spewing blood.  The minotaur rules here, as do the terrifying herds of Centaurs Dante and Virgil confront.  They manage to slip by teh minotaur because he becomes so inscenced, thinking that the living soul he sees is his vanquisher Theseus, that he cannot function and his fury blinds him.  It is here that Virgil informs Dante about his previous trip down through the circles of Inferno.  The last time he was here, as told in his Aenid, the fallen boulders were intact on the mountain.  In fact Virgil was here right before Christ came down to battle Satan, which is historically accurate (Virgil did live shortly before the historical Jesus of Nazareth).  The battle was so fierce that it changed the topography of the underworld.  Anger manifested in nature.
Virgil points out to Dante the river below, where "those injure others violently, boil."  It really doesn't get much more frightening than that. And yet, it is along these banks that they meet the Centaurs, who gallop around hunting with bows and arrows, consumed in their fury.  They immediately come upon Dante and Virgil, and were it not for Chiron, the most human of the Centaurs and also Achilles' tutor, out two travelers would be pincusions.  Chiron almost shoots them on sight, until he notices that Dante walks not as a soul, but of liveing flesh and blood.  For a brief moment, the beast subsides and reason and humanity bubble to the surface.  Virigl hastily explains that he has diplomatic immunity based on Beatrice's heavenly blessings to the quest.  Chiron offers his own guide through the Centaurs' turf, knowing quite well that the others' human sides are buried much deeper and will most likely shoot first and ask second.  Thus, Nessus, whose blood stained Hercules' cloak causing him to commit suicide, is their protector.  Hard to imagine a more intimidating guide than the one who bested humanity's most famous hero.
While walking through this hell, they meet observe a pretty impressive collection of characters.  Alexander the Great is here, as is Dionysius. Sesto, son of Pompey is mentioned as are several other ruthless tyrants and rulers, including Atila the Hun. 
The cacophany of rage, so exemplified by the raging river of blood, is deafening on these pages.  It almost hurts my ears to read this canto.  It is a sign of impressive poetic skill that Dante perfectly manifests the inner rage that blinds all other senses. I leave you with Dore's minotaur.