Second Ledge: the Envious. — An Angel removes the second P from Dante’s forehead. — Discourse concerning the Sharing of Good. — Ascent to the Third Ledge: the Wrathful. — Examples of Forbearance seen in Vision.
As much as appears, between the beginning of the day and the close of the third hour, of the sphere that ever in manner of a child is sporting, so much now, toward the evening, appeared to be remaining of his course for the sun.1 It was vespers2 there,3 and here midnight; and the rays struck us across the nose,4 because the mountain had been so circled by us that we were now going straight toward the sunset, when I felt my forehead weighed down by the splendor far more than at first, and the things not known were a wonder to me.5 Wherefore I lifted my hands toward the top of my brows, and made for myself the visor that lessens the excess of what is seen.
1 The sun was still some three hours from his setting. The sphere that ever is sportive like a child has been variously interpreted; perhaps Dante only meant the sphere of the heavens which by its ever varying aspect suggests the image of a playful spirit.
2 Dante uses “vespers” as the term for the last of the four canonical divisions of the day; that is, from three to six P.M. See Convito, iv. 23. Three o’clock in Purgatory corresponds with midnight in Italy.
3 In Italy.
4 Full in the face.
5 The source of this increase of brightness being unknown, it caused him astonishment.
As when from water, or from the mirror, the ray leaps to the opposite quarter, and, mounting up in like manner to that in which it descends, at equal distance departs as much from the falling of the stone,1 as experiment and art show; so it seemed to me that I was struck by light reflected there in front of me, from which my sight was swift to fly. “What is that, sweet Father, from which I cannot screen my sight so that it avails me,” said I, “and which seems to be moving toward us?” “Marvel not if the family of Heaven still dazzle thee,” he replied to me; “it is a messenger that comes to invite men to ascend. Soon will it be that to see these things will not be grievous to thee, but will be delight to thee as great as nature fitted thee to feel.”
1 I.e., the perpendicular, at the point of incidence.
When we had reached the blessed Angel, with a glad voice he said, “Enter ye here to a stairway far less steep than the others.”
We were mounting, already departed thence, and “Beati misericordes”1 had been sung behind us, and “Rejoice thou that overcomest.” 2 My Master and I, we two alone, were going on upward, and I was thinking to win profit as we went from his words; and I addressed me to him, thus enquiring, “What did the spirit from Romagna mean, mentioning exclusion and companionship?”3 Wherefore he to me, “Of his own greatest fault he knows the harm, and therefore it is not to be wondered at if he reprove it, in order that there may be less lamenting on account of it. Because your desires are directed there, where, through companionship, a share is lessened, envy moves the bellows for your sighs. But if the love of the highest sphere4 had turned your desire on high, that fear would not be in your breast; for the more there are who there say ‘ours,’ so much the more of good doth each possess, and the more of charity burns in that cloister.”5 “I am more hungering to be contented,” said I, “than if I had at first been silent, and more of doubt I assemble in my mind. How can it be that a good distributed makes more possessors richer with itself, than if by few it is possessed?”6 And he to me, “Because thou fastenest thy mind only on earthly things, from true light thou gatherest darkness. That infinite and ineffable Good which is on high, runs to love even as the sunbeam comes to a lucid body. As much of itself it gives as it finds of ardor; so that how far soever charity extends, beyond it doth the eternal bounty increase. And the more the people who are intent on high the more there are for loving well, and the more love is there, and like a mirror one reflects to the other. And if my discourse appease not thy hunger, thou shalt see Beatrice, and she will fully take from thee this and every other longing. Strive only that soon may be extinct, as two already are, the five wounds that are closed up by being painful.”7
1 “Blessed are the merciful.”
2 At the passage from each round, the Angel at the foot of the stairs repeats words from the Beatitudes adapted to those purified from the sin punished upon the ledge which is being left.
3 In the last canto, Guido del Duca had exclaimed, “O human race, why dost thou set thy heart there where companionship must needs be excluded!”
4 The Empyrean.
5 “Since good, the more Communicated, the more abundant grows.” Milton, Paradise Lost, v. 73.
6 “True love in this differs from gold and clay, That to divide is not to take away.” — Shelley, Epipsychidion.
7 The pain of contrition.
As I was about to say “Thou satisfiest me,” I saw myself arrived on the next round,1 so that my eager eyes made me silent. There it seemed to me I was of a sudden rapt in an ecstatic vision, and saw many persons in a temple, and a lady at the entrance, with the sweet action of a mother, saying, “My son, why hast thou done thus toward us? Lo, sorrowing, thy father and I were seeking thee;” and when here she was silent, that which first appeared, disappeared.
1 Where the sin of anger is expiated.
Then appeared to me another, with those waters down along her cheeks which grief distils when it springs from great despite toward others, and she was saying, “If thou art lord of the city about whose name was such great strife among the gods, and whence every science sparkles forth, avenge thyself on those audacious arms, that have embraced our daughter, O Pisistratus.” And the lord appeared to me, benign and mild, to answer her, with temperate look, “What shall we do to him who desires ill for us, if he who loves us is by us condemned?”1
1 Dante translated this story from Valerius Maximus, Facta et dicta mem., vi. 1.
Then I saw people kindled with fire of wrath, killing a youth with stones, loudly crying to each other only, “Slay, slay.” And I saw him bowed by death, which now was weighing on him, toward the ground, but in such great strife he ever made of his eyes gates for heaven, praying to the high Lord, that He would pardon his persecutors, with that aspect which unlocks pity.1
1 See Acts, vii. 55-60.
When my mind returned outwardly to the things which outside of it are true, I recognized my not false errors. My Leader, who could see me do like a man who looses himself from slumber, said, “What ails thee, that thou canst not support thyself? but art come more than a half league veiling thine eyes, and with thy legs staggering like one whom wine or slumber bends.” “O sweet Father mine, if thou harkenest to me I will tell thee,” said I, “what appeared to me when my legs were thus taken from me.” And he, “If thou hadst a hundred masks upon thy face, thy thoughts howsoever small would not be hidden from me. That which thou hast seen was in order that thou excuse not thyself from opening thy heart to the waters of peace which are poured forth from the eternal fountain. I did not ask, ‘What ails thee?’ for the reason that he does who looks only with the eye which hath no seeing when the body lies inanimate; but I asked, in order to give vigor to the foot; thus it behoves to spur the sluggards, slow to use their wakefulness when it returns.”
We were going on through the vesper time, forward intent so far as the eyes could reach against the bright evening rays; when, lo, little by little, a smoke came toward us, dark as night; iior was there place to shelter ourselves from it. This took from us our eyes and the pure air.