The Portable Dante (45 page)

“Well argued, my dear Marco, ” I replied, “and now I understand why Levi’s sons were not permitted to inherit wealth.

But who is this Gherardo whom you give as an example of a race extinct, whose life rebukes this barbarous age of ours?”

“Your words are meant to trick me or to test me!” he said. “How can you speak the Tuscan tongue and not know who the good Gherardo is?

I know him by no other name than this, unless he’s known as Gaia’s father, too. God be with you! And now I must go back:

see how the rays of light through the thick smoke grow brighter now? The angel’s near, and I must leave before he sees me. ” And he turned,

Reader, if ever you have found yourself caught in a mountain fog, trying to see your way through it, as sightless as a mole,

remember how at last the damp, dense air starts to dissolve, and how the sun’s pale disc feebly begins to penetrate the mist,

and you will find it easy to recall what it was like when finally I saw the sun again, the sun about to set.

Matching the faithful footsteps of my guide, I walked out of that cloud into the light whose rays had died out on the shore below.

O power of fantasy that steals our minds from things outside, to leave us unaware, although a thousand trumpets may blow loud—

what stirs you if the senses show you nothing? Light stirs you, formed in Heaven, by itself, or by His will Who sends it down to us:

In my imagination there took shape the impious deed committed by that being transformed into the bird that lives to sing;

my mind became, at this point, so withdrawn into itself that the reality of things outside could not have entered there.

9. The Pilgrim’s second day on Mount Purgatory, Easter Monday, is drawing to a close.
Then poured into my soaring fantasy, a figure crucified, whose face revealed contempt and fury even as he died.

By him the great Ahasuerus stood, Esther his wife, and the just Mordecai, integrity in word and deed was his.

Then, when this image of its own accord burst like a bubble when the watery film around it breaks—another vision rose

in my imagination: a young girl bitterly weeping, saying: “O my queen, why did you let your rage destroy your life?

You killed yourself rather than lose Lavinia? Now you have lost me! I am she who mourns
your
death, Mother, before another’s ruin!”

When suddenly closed eyes are struck by light, our sleep is broken, though it lingers on a little while before it fully dies,

just so my vision slipped away from me when I was struck by light across my eyes, a light far brighter than is known on earth.

Looking around to find out where I was, I heard a voice: “Here is the place to climb. ” This drove all other thoughts out of my mind

and left me burning with desire to see the one who spoke—a wish that will not cease till it comes face to face with its desire;

but, as if looking at the burning sun whose brilliance overwhelms the sight and veils its very form, I felt my powers fail.

26. Haman was a minister of Ahasuerus, the king of Persia. Enraged that the Jew Mordecai refused to do him homage, Haman persuaded the king to decree the death of all the Jews in the land; a cross was constructed especially for Mordecai. 35. The queen is Amata, wife of Latinus and mother of Lavinia.
“This is an angel of the Lord who comes to show us the ascent before we ask, and hides himself in his own radiance.

He treats us as a man would treat himself: who sees the need but waits for the request, already is half-guilty of denial;

so, let our feet obey his call, and climb as far as possible while there is light, for we may not ascend once it grows dark. ”

These were my leader’s words; and then, as one, the two of us went over to the stairs. As soon as I had taken one step up,

I felt what seemed to be a wing that moved and fanned my face; I heard the words:
“Beati pacifici,
who feel no sinful wrath. ”

The day’s last rays, which night would follow soon, already were so high above us now that stars began to show through, here and there.

“Why is my strength fading away like this?” I kept repeating to myself, as I felt all my forces draining from my legs.

We had just reached the last step of the stairs, and there we found ourselves immobilized, just like a vessel having run ashore.

I waited for a moment, listening to hear some sound come from this unknown round; then, turning to my master, I inquired:

“O my sweet father, what offense is purged here on this terrace? Though our steps have stopped, don’t you stop speaking to me. ” So he said:

67. The angel, with his wing, has removed another
P,
leaving four more to be erased. 68-69.
Beati pacifici
(“Blessed are the Peacemakers”) is the Beatitude for the Terrace of the Wrathful. “Who feel no sinful wrath” is a gloss added by Dante to the biblical text.
“That love of good which failed to satisfy the call of duty, here is fortified: the oar once sluggish now is plied with zeal.

But if you want to better understand, give me your full attention: you will reap excellent fruit from this delay of ours.

Neither Creator nor his creatures ever, my son, lacked love. There are, as you well know, two kinds: the natural love, the rational.

Natural love may never be at fault; the other may: by choosing the wrong goal, by insufficient or excessive zeal.

While it is fixed on the Eternal Good, and observes temperance loving worldly goods, it cannot be the cause of sinful joys;

but when it turns toward evil or pursues some good with not enough or too much zeal— the creature turns on his Creator then.

So, you can understand how love must be the seed of every virtue growing in you, and every deed that merits punishment.

Now, since it is a fact that love cannot ignore the welfare of its loving self, there’s nothing in the world can hate itself;

and since no being can be conceived as being all in itself, severed from the First Being, no creature has the power to hate his God.

And so it follows, if I argue well, the evil that man loves must be his neighbor’s. This love springs up three ways in mortal clay:

There is the man who sees his own success connected to his neighbor’s downfall; thus, he longs to see him fall from eminence.

Next, he who fears to lose honor and fame, power and favor, if his neighbor rise: vexed by this good, he wishes for the worst.

Finally, he who, wronged, flares up in rage: with his great passion for revenge, he thinks only of how to harm his fellow man.

This threefold love is purged by those below. Now, I would have you know the other kind: love that without measure pursues its good.

All of you, vaguely, apprehend and crave a good with which your heart may be at rest; and so, each of you strives to reach that goal.

If you aspire to it or grasp at it with only lukewarm love, then on this ledge you will be punished, once you have confessed.

Another good there is: it brings not joy, not perfect joy, for it is not the True Essence, the fruit and root of every good;

the love that yields excessively to this is purged above us on three terraces, but how the nature of such love is threefold,

When he had brought his lecture to an end, the lofty scholar looked into my face, searching to see if I seemed satisfied;

and I; already thirsting for more drink, kept silent, wondering: “Could he, perhaps, be tired of all this questioning of mine?”

But that true father, sensing my desire, which was too timid to express itself, spoke first, and thus encouraged me to speak.

I said: “Master, the light you shed has made my sight so keen that now I clearly see all that your words mean or what they imply.

So I beseech you, father, kind and dear, define love for me, please, which is, you say the source of every virtue, every vice. ”

“Now focus your mind’s eye on what I say, ” he said, “and you will clearly understand the error of the blind who lead the blind.

The soul at birth, created quick to love, will move toward anything that pleases it, as soon as pleasure causes it to move.

From what is real your apprehensive power extracts an image it displays within you, forcing your mind to be attentive to it;

and if, attentive, it inclines toward this, that inclination is love: Nature it is which is through pleasure bound anew in you.

Just as a fire’s flames always rise up, inspired by its own nature to ascend, seeking to be in its own element,

just so, the captive soul begins its quest, the spiritual movement of its love, not resting till the thing loved is enjoyed.

It should be clear to you by now how blind to truth those people are who make the claims that every love is, in itself, good love.

They think this, for love’s substance, probably, seems always good, but though the wax is good, the impression made upon it may be bad. ”

“Thanks to your words and my keen interest, I know what love is now, ” I answered him, “but knowing this brings more uncertainty:

if love comes from a source outside of us, the soul having no choice, how can you praise or blame it for its love of good or bad?”

And he to me: “I can explain to you as much as reason sees; for the rest, wait for Beatrice—it is the work of faith.

Every substantial form, being distinct from matter, yet somehow conjoined with it, contains within itself a certain power