Read The Portable Dante Page 26


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  He looked as if he suffered from remorse— O dignity of conscience, noble, chaste, how one slight fault can sting you into shame!

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  Now when he had resumed his normal stride, free of the haste that mars man’s dignity, my mind, confined till then to what took place,

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  broke free, and now was eager to explore: I raised my eyes to marvel at the mount that grew out of the sea toward Heaven’s height.

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  The sun behind us blazing red with light outlined my human form upon the ground before me, as my body blocked its rays.

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  I quickly turned around, seized by the fear that I had been abandoned, for I saw the ground was dark only in front of me;

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  and then my Comfort turned to me and said: “Why are you so uneasy—do you think that I am not here with you, guiding you?

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  Evening has fallen on the tomb where lies my body that could cast a shadow once; from Brindisi to Naples it was moved.

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  If now I cast no shadow on the ground, you should not be surprised. Think of the spheres: not one of them obstructs the others’ light.

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  Yet bodies such as ours are sensitive to pain and cold and heat—willed by that Power which wills its secret not to be revealed;

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  madness it is to hope that human minds can ever understand the Infinite that comprehends Three Persons in One Being.

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  16. The two poets have begun their journey on the eastern side of the island; the recently risen sun lies behind them as they turn to face the mountain.

  Be satisfied with quia unexplained, O human race! If you knew everything, no need for Mary to have borne a son.

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  You saw the hopeless longing of those souls whose thirst, were this not so, would have been quenched, but which, instead, endures as endless pain:

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  I speak of Plato and of Aristotle, and many others. ” Then he bent his head, remaining silent with his anguished thoughts.

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  By now we had come to the mountain’s foot, and there we found a rocky slope so steep the nimblest legs would not have served you there.

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  The craggiest, the cruelest precipice between Turbia and Lerici would seem, compared with this, inviting stairs to climb.

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  “How can we tell, ” my guide said, stopping short, “just where this mountain face might slope enough to let someone who has no wings ascend?”

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  While he was standing there, his head bent low, searching his mind to find some helpful way, and I was looking up at all that rock—

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  along the cliffside to my left, a crowd of souls was coming toward us, moving slow, so slowly that they did not seem to move.

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  “Master, ” I said, “look over there! You’ll see some people coming who should know the way— if you have not yet found it by yourself. ”

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  50. Lerici lies south of Genoa near La Spezia; Turbia between Monaco and Nice. Between these two towns along the coast, the mountains descend abruptly—indeed, perpendicularly—into the sea, making passage all but impossible.

  He looked up then, and said with great relief: “Let us go meet them, for they move so slow; and you, dear son, be steadfast in your hopes. ”

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  We were as yet as far from that long crowd (even after we had gone a thousand steps); as a good slingsman’s hand could throw a stone,

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  when they all pressed together suddenly and huddled up against the towering rock; too stunned to move, they stared in disbelief.

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  “O you elect who ended well your lives, ” Virgil began, “I ask you, in the name of that same peace I know awaits you all,

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  to tell us where the mountain slopes enough for us to start our climb: the more one learns, the more one comes to hate the waste of time. ”

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  As sheep will often start to leave the fold, first one, then two, then three—then, hesitantly, the rest will move, with muzzles to the ground,

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  and what the first sheep does, the others do: if it should stop, they all push up against it, resigned to huddle quiet in ignorance—

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  just so I saw the leaders of that flock of chosen souls take their first steps toward us, their faces meek, their movements dignified.

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  But when the souls in front saw the sun’s light was broken on the ground to my right side, my shadow stretching to the rising cliff,

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  they stopped, and started slowly shrinking back; all of the rest that followed on their heels did as they did, not knowing why they did.

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  “Before you ask me I will answer you: this form you see breaking the sunlight here upon the ground is a man’s body. But,

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  this should not startle you; you can be sure that not without the power coming from Heaven does he come here seeking to scale this wall. ”

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  Thus spoke my master. And that worthy group, with gesturing hands that urged us to turn round, replied: “Go lead the way ahead of us. ”

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  Then one soul cried: “Whoever you may be, look back as you walk on and ask yourself if you have ever seen me down on earth. ”

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  I turned to him and looked hard at his face: a handsomely patrician blond he was, although a sword wound cut through one eyebrow.

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  When I, in all humility, confessed I did not recognize him, he said: “Look, ” as he revealed a gash above his breast.

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  Then with a smile he said, “Manfred I am, grandson of Empress Constance, and I beg you, when you are with the living once again,

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  go to my lovely child, mother of kings who honor Sicily and Aragon; whatever may be rumored, tell her this:

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  As I lay there, my body torn by these two mortal wounds, weeping, I gave my soul to Him Who grants forgiveness willingly.

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  112. Manfred (1232-1266) was the natural son of Frederick II, who legitimized him and stipulated that he should be regent during the reign of his half-brother, Conrad IV.

  113. Constance (1154-1198), wife of Henry VI, was the mother of Frederick II of Sicily. Since Manfred is the natural son of Frederick, he identifies himself with ref-erence to his paternal grandmother.

  115-116. Manfred’s daughter and grandmother had the same name, Constance. His daughter’s two sons became, respectively, the King of Aragon and the King of Sicily.

  Horrible was the nature of my sins, but boundless mercy stretches out its arms

  to any man who comes in search of it,

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  and if the Pastor of Cosenza, sent by Clement in his rage to hunt me out, had understood those words in God’s own book,

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  my body’s bones would still be where they were: by the bridgehead near Benevento trenched under the guard of a heavy mound of stones.

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  Now they are swept by wind and drenched by rain outside my kingdom, by the Verde’s banks, where they were brought by him with tapers quenched.

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  The church’s curse is not the final word, for Everlasting Love may still return, if hope reveals the slightest hint of green.

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  True, he who dies scorning the Holy Church, although he turns repentant at life’s end, must stay outside, a wanderer on this bank,

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  for thirty times as long as he has lived in his presumptuousness—although good prayers may shorten the duration of his term.

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  124. This particular Archbishop of Cosenza has been identified as either Bartolomeo Pignatelli or his successor, Tommaso d’Agni. The archbishop referred to here had Man
fred’s body disinterred on the order of Pope Clement IV and cast outside Church territory (see note to Canto 111, 112).

  132. When the bodies of the Excommunicated were taken to their graves, the mor- tuary candles were first extinguished, then carried upside down.

  135. Green is the color of hope. Manfred’s hope and faith at the end of his life have brought him to Purgatory and allow him to smile as he tells the gruesome story of his death and the vindictiveness of the pope. There is even a glimmer of hopefulness in the ignominious disposition of Manfred’s body on the banks of the Verde, which is Italian for “green. ” (During his life, according to contemporary accounts, Manfred always dressed in green.)

  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,

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  for those down there can help us much up here.

  CANTO IV

  AFTER LISTENING TO Manfred for some time (the Pilgrim being deeply absorbed), the two poets are shown a gap in the rock through which they may begin their ascent. The climb is arduous, and they must use both hands and feet in making their way. When they finally reach a ledge, the Pilgrim is exhausted and they stop to rest. He is puzzled by the fact that the sun is on their left, and Virgil explains that this phe-nomenon is due to the geographical location of the mountain of Purgatory. Furthermore, he adds, the mountain is such that it is most difficult to climb at the beginning but becomes easier and easier, until at last it requires no effort. Their conversation, however, has been overheard and is interrupted by a sarcastic remark from behind a massive rock. The speaker is Belacqua, an old friend of the Poet’s, who, together with the other souls on this level, belongs to the second class of the Late Repentant: the Indolent. They must wait outside the gates of Purgatory proper for as many years as they put off repentance on earth. Belacqua repeats the doctrine that prayer can shorten their period of waiting, adding the qualification that it must be prayer from a heart in the state of grace.

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

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  143. Constance was Manfred’s daughter, who died in 1302, at Barcelona. Her mother was Beatrice of Savoy. In 1262 Constance married Peter III of Aragon, who thereupon claimed the sovereignty of Sicily.

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

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

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

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

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  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. ”

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  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

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  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.

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  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:

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  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.

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  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.

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  15. One degree of the sun’s arc is equal to four minutes; therefore, fifteen degrees equal one hour. If the sun has risen fifty degrees, then three hours and twenty minutes have passed since sunrise.

  25-26. San Leo and Noli are names of towns that are accessible only with great difficulty.

  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?”

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

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  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.

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  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. ”

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  “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.

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  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.

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  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.

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

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

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

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  42. That is, the mountain slopes at an angle even steeper than forty-five degrees.

  61. Castor and Pollux are the twins represented in the constellation of Gemini.

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

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

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

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  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. ”

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

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

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  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.

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  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:

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  “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;

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

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  72. The “lofty path” is that of the sun. Having gained permission from his father, Apollo, to guide the chariot of the sun, Phaëton lost control of the horses. To prevent a catastrophe, Jupiter struck down Phaëton with a thunderbolt.

  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. ”

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

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

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

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  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.

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  “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. ”

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  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. ”

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

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  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?”

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

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  123. Belacqua was a Florentine lute-maker and friend of Dante’s, famous for his indolence.

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

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

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

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  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!”

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  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

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  Night sets her foot upon Morocco’s sands. ”

  CANTO V

  TTHE PILGRIM LEAVES behind the souls of the Indolent and is following in his guide’s footsteps when, suddenly, he turns to look back: one of the group has discovered the Pilgrim’s shadow and is calling it to the attention of the others. Virgil upbraids him for lagging behind and warns him against losing sight of his true goal. As they continue upward, they encounter a group of souls chanting the Miserere. They are the third class of the Late Repentant: those who died a violent death but managed to repent in their final moments. The first soul to come forward and speak is Jacopo del Cassero of Fano, who tells how he was ambushed and left to bleed to death in a swamp. Next comes Buonconte of Montefeltro. At his death there ensued a struggle between the powers of good and evil for his soul; since he had uttered the name of Mary with his dying breath and shed a tear of true repentance, the heavenly faction prevailed and bore his soul off to Paradise. But a demon took possession of his corpse and played havoc with it: he conjured up a storm and sent the mortal remains plummeting down the raging and swollen river channels. Finally La Pia steps forth and gently asks Dante to remember her.