The Portable Dante (36 page)

You see how you can make me happy now by telling my good Constance I am here; explain to her this law that holds me back,

for those down there can help us much up here.

When any of our senses is aroused to intensity of pleasure or of pain, the soul gives itself up to that one sense,

oblivious to all its other powers. This fact serves to refute the false belief that in our bodies more than one soul burns.

And so it is that when we see or hear something which wholly captivates the soul, we easily can lose all sense of time.

The sense aware of time is different from that which dominates all of the soul: the first is free to roam, the other, bound.

And I was now experiencing this truth, listening to that soul and marvelling. The sun had climbed a good fifty degrees,

and I had not been conscious of the fact, when at some point along the way, those souls cried out in one voice: “Here is what you seek. ”

A peasant, at the time the grapes grow ripe, with one small forkful of his thorns could seal an opening within his hedge more wide

than was the gap through which my guide and I were forced to climb, the two of us alone, once we had parted company with that flock.

Up to San Leo, down to Noli, climb, climb to the top of Mount Bismantova on your two feet, but here a man must fly:

yes, fly—that is to say, with the swift wings of strong desire, and following that guide who gave me hope, spreading his light before me.

Squeezed in between the tight walls of the pass, we struggled upward through that broken rock, using our hands and feet to climb the ground.

Once we were through that narrow passageway up the high cliff and on an open slope, “Master, ” I said, “where must we go from here?”

And he replied: “Now, do not change your course, keep climbing up the mountain, close to me, until we find a more experienced guide. ”

The peak rose higher than my sight could reach, the slope soared upright, steeper than a line drawn from mid-quadrant to the center’s point.

I felt my strength drain from me, and I cried: “O my sweet father, turn and look at me; unless you slow your pace, you’ll lose me here. ”

“My son, ” he said, “keep climbing, just to there, ” and pointed to a ledge, not far above, that made its way around the mountain slope.

His words were like a goad, and I strained on behind him, climbing with my hands and knees until I felt the ledge beneath my feet.

And here we both sat down to face the east, to rest, as we surveyed all we had climbed— a backward glance can often lift the heart.

I looked down at the shoreline far below, and then looked up: the sun, amazingly, was shining to the left of us. The Poet

was well aware that I was stupefied as I observed the chariot of light making its course between us and the north.

“Now, were Castor and Pollux, ” he began, “to take that mirror in their company, whose light is shed below and heavenward,

you would perceive the flaming Zodiac revolving even closer to the Bears— unless the sun strayed from its ancient path.

If you would understand how this may be, try to imagine Zion and this Mount located on the earth in such a way

that while each lies in different hemispheres, the two of them share one horizon; then, the lofty path, which Phaeton’s chariot

could not hold fast to, had to pass this height on one side here, but on the other there— as you must see, if you think carefully. ”

“Oh, master, you are right!” I answered him; “Now, finally, I clearly understand this point that always baffled me before:

of Heaven’s moving circles, the mid-one (called the Equator by astronomers), which always lies between winter and sun,

is, for the very reason you set forth, as far north from this place where we now stand as once the Hebrews saw it to the south.

But would you kindly tell me, if you please, how much more climbing we must do: this peak soars higher than my eyes can see. ” And he:

“This Mount is not like others: at the start it is most difficult to climb, but then, the more one climbs the easier it becomes;

and when the slope feels gentle to the point that climbing up would be as effortless as floating down a river in a boat—

well then, you have arrived at the road’s end, and there you can expect, at last, to rest. I say no more, and what I said is true. ”

Hardly had he stopped speaking when we heard a voice not far away: “But, probably, you’ll feel like sitting down before you do!”

Both of us turned to where the voice had come and to our left we saw a massive rock that neither one of us had noticed there.

We went up to the boulder and, behind, there were some people hidden in its shade: so many sprawling shapes of indolence.

There was one there who, you could tell, was tired, for he sat with his arms hugging his knees, letting his head droop down between his legs.

“O my dear master, look at him!” I said, “See that man? Lazier he could not look, not even if ‘Lazy’ were his middle name. ”

That shape then turned to look at us, and said, raising his face no higher than his thigh: “If you’re so energetic, run on up. ”

And then I knew who this soul had to be! Exhausted, out of breath, nevertheless, I struggled toward him. Finally, when I

stood by his side, he raised his head a bit and said: “Is it quite clear to you by now just why the sun drives past you on the left?”

His lazy ways and his sarcastic words made me half smile, and I replied to him: “Belacqua! I’ll not have to worry now

about your fate! But tell me why are you just sitting like this? Waiting for a guide? Or simply being your old self again?”

“Brother, what good will climbing do?” he said. “God’s angel sitting at the gate will not let me begin my penitence inside.

Before I start, the heavens must revolve as many times as while I was alive, for I put off repenting till the end.

Prayers could, of course, make my time shorter here: prayers from a heart that lives in grace—the rest are worthless, for they go unheard in Heaven!”

The Poet had by now begun to climb; he said, “Come now, see how the sun has touched Heaven’s highest point, while on the western shore

Night sets her foot upon Morocco’s sands. ”

I had already parted from those shades, following in the footsteps of my guide, when one of them back there pointed and called:

“That soul climbing behind the other one! Look! To his left no light is shining through! He seems to walk as if he were alive!”

Hearing these words, I turned around and saw souls staring in amazement at my form, at me alone—and at the broken light.

“What is it that has caught your interest so and makes you lag behind?” my master asked. “What do you care, if they are whispering?

Keep up with me and let the people talk! Be like a solid tower whose brave height remains unmoved by all the winds that blow;

the man who lets his thoughts be turned aside by one thing or another, will lose sight of his true goal, his mind sapped of its strength. ”

What could I say except: “I’m coming now”? I said it, and my face took on the color that makes a man deserve to be excused.

Meanwhile, across the slope ahead of us, people were passing, chanting
Miserere,
singing the psalm in alternating parts.

But when they noticed that the rays of light did not shine through my human form, they changed their chanting to a drawn-out, breathless “Ohhh!”

Then two of them, dispatched as messengers, came running up and started to implore: “We pray you, please tell us about yourselves. ”

My master answered them: “You may return, bearing the news to those who sent you here that this man’s body is true flesh and blood;

if they were stunned, as I suppose they were, because he casts a shadow—now they know, and it could profit them to honor him. ”

I never saw a meteor at night cut through the tranquil air, or bolts of light flash through the cloudy August sky at dusk,

as quickly as they rushed back to their group; then all together they wheeled round and rushed toward us like a full-charging cavalry.

“Oh look at all those souls pressing toward us, ” the Poet said; “each one will have his plea; listen to them, but move on as you do. ”

“O soul, ” they cried, “you there, moving toward bliss clothed in the body you were born with, stop, just for a moment, look at us and see

if you know anyone among us here, so as to bring back news of him to earth. Oh, wait! Where are you going? Oh, please stop!

We are all souls who met a violent death, and we were sinners to our final hour; but then the light of Heaven lit our minds,

and penitent and pardoning, we left that life at peace with God, Who left our hearts with longing for the holy sight of Him. ”

I said: “I see your faces, but cannot recognize one. But, O souls, born for bliss, if there is some way I can please you now,

tell me, and I will do so—by that peace which I go searching for while following from world to world so great a guide as this. ”

One soul replied: “We need no oath from you; all of us here know you will keep your word, unless some lack of power thwarts your will.

Now, speaking for myself, I will plead first: if ever you should travel to the land between Romagna and the realm of Charles,

I beg you, be so gracious as to ask the souls in Fano to say prayers for me, that I may soon begin to purge my guilt.

I came from Fano, but the deep-cut wounds from which I saw my life’s blood spilling out, were dealt me in the Antenori’s land—

the land where I believed I was most safe. Azzo of Este had me killed (his hatred for me reached far beyond all reason’s bounds).

If only I had fled toward Mira when at Oriaco they took me by surprise, I still would be with men who live and breathe;

instead, I ran into the swampy mire: the reeds entangled me; I fell, and there I watched a pool of blood fill from my veins. ”