‘That smell,’ said Berrigan, ‘comes from the bins
Which lie below, full of uneaten food and
Stinking rubbish – the bad news is that
It gets worse the closer you get to it,
And we’re heading that way.’ Before I had
A chance to protest, Berrigan had summoned
The lift which took us down in seconds,
Then we proceeded a little way on foot.
The place we came to was the edge of a steep bank
Composed of broken concrete, mud and steel,
And here the stench was so powerful
We had to step back from the precipice.
Not far from where we stood, Berrigan
Drew my attention to a giant skip
Awaiting collection. On stepping closer,
I saw it was labelled DISSERTATIONS.
Berrigan noticed the look of shock on my face,
And tried to reassure me: ‘Not all
Dissertations suffer this ignoble fate,’
He said, ‘these are the ones that didn’t toe the
Line, students who used Freud with Jungians,
Others who used Derrida with Lacanians.
The rest are stored in the library.
Until our noses get used to the stink
We’d better shelter behind this skip,
Once we’ve been here a bit you’ll hardly notice it.’
‘Is there something we can do to pass the time?’
I asked. ‘Don’t worry,’ said Berrigan, ‘I’ve
Thought of that.’ He began to roll a huge joint,
And as he did so, he said: ‘Beneath these rocks
Lie many more souls packed in; and since later
The sight of them will be enough, I’ll tell you a
Little about them.’ ‘While you’re at it,’ I added,
‘Could you also explain the layout of the campus?
At times I find it hard to fathom.’
‘That’s a tough ask,’ he said, ‘but I’ll do my best.
Putting it simply, things used to be arranged
Round the five squares and the points of the compass,
But as the campus expanded, this system
Became rapidly obsolete. Besides, it was
Never very helpful –
Students could rarely find their way to class.
In fact, there’s a rumour that a student
From the 1960s is still walking about somewhere,
Looking for the Lecture Theatre Block.
The new layout (which in reality
Coexists alongside the old one,
Like the imperial and metric systems)
Is simpler: the campus is divided into Zones,
1–9, and each Zone into Areas, A–Z.
This system has the advantage of allowing
For almost infinite expansion,
And it’s useful in case of fire drills and the like,
Which round here are pretty common, as you can imagine.’
Berrigan stopped for a moment, to lick the joint,
And I took the opportunity to ask
About the souls who were confined below.
‘OK,’ he said, ‘Martin Luther King put it well
When he said, “Those who assert that evil means
Can lead to good ends are deceiving themselves.”
All malice has injustice as its end,
And this is achieved by violence or by fraud;
As fraud belongs exclusively to humanity
It is all the more despicable.
In the first Zone below, Zone 7,
You’ll find the violent, but since there are different
Kinds of violence, it’s divided into
Three Areas: 7A contains
Homicides, 7B suicides and
Squanderers, 7C the blasphemers
And usurers, amongst others.
Beyond that, in Zones 8 and 9, as you’ll
See, things get worse: down there you’ll find all
Sorts of fraud of the worst kind: hypocrites,
Of which there’s no shortage amongst academics,
Those who waste their time making crazy predictions,
Cheats and thieves, moneygrubbers, grafters
And like filth.’ ‘Master,’ I said, ‘I’m beginning
To get the picture, but tell me, what about
The souls we passed earlier on, those
Swept by the winds and lashed by the hoses,
Those stuck in the muddy swamp, why aren’t they
Too shut inside the burning gates?’
‘Didn’t they teach you anything at that
Grammar school of yours? You mean you haven’t
Read the Nicomachean Ethics? Where do I
Begin? Aristotle distinguishes between
Three kinds of wrong: to put it crudely,
He calls them incontinence, malice, and
Bestiality. Incontinence, he argues,
Is the least of the three evils, and if
You think back to the kind of shades we met
Early on in our journey, you’ll see why they
Suffer less. Are you with me?’ ‘I was never
Too hot at classics,’ I said, ‘I once got
2% in a Latin exam, but I get your drift.
Tell me, though, what’s the problem with usury?
Surely we need people to lend us money,
Otherwise how would you buy a house, for example?’
‘Mortgages,’ said Berrigan, ‘are a con,
It’s just another form of robbery.
This was one thing old Ez got right,
Even if he got it wrong about the Jews
And the fascists – read canto XLV
Where he puts it plainly:
“with usura, sin against nature,
is thy bread ever more of stale rags
is thy bread dry as paper,
with no mountain wheat, no strong flour
with usura the line grows thick
with usura is no clear demarcation
and no man can find site for his dwelling.
Stone cutter is kept from his stone
weaver is kept from his loom…”
Now, speaking of stone, it’s about time
We picked ourselves up again, and had
A closer look at this landfall,
We need to think about making our way down.’