Canto 17

Recall to mind, reader, if ever on the alps a cloud closed round thee, through which thou couldst not see otherwise than the mole through its skin, how, when the humid and dense vapors begin to dissipate, the ball of the sun enters feebly through them: and thy imagination will easily come to see, how at first I saw again the sun, which was already at its setting. So, matching mine to the trusty steps of my Master, I issued forth from such a cloud to rays already dead on the low shores.

Reader, recall if you have ever been surrounded by a cloud in the Alps. You could see through it no better than a mole can see through its skin. Remember how the round sun shone faintly through the damp, thick mist as it began to clear. Then you can easily imagine how I first saw the sun again, already setting. Following my Master's sure steps, I came out of the cloud into sunlight that no longer reached the low shores.

O power imaginative, that dost sometimes so steal us from outward things that a man heeds it not, although around him a thousand trumpets sound, who moveth thee if the sense afford thee naught? A light, that in the heavens is formed, moveth thee by itself, or by a will that downward guides it?²²⁴

O imagination, you sometimes draw us so far away from the world around us that we notice nothing, even if a thousand trumpets sound. What moves you when the senses give you nothing? A light formed in heaven moves you, either by itself or by a will that guides it downward.²²⁴

In my imagination appeared the impress of the impiety of her²²⁵ who changed her form into the bird that most delights in singing. And here was my mind so shut up within itself that from without came nothing which then might he received by it. Then rained down within my high fantasy, one crucified,²²⁶ scornful and fierce in his look, and thus was dying. Around him were the great Ahasuerus, Esther his wife, and the just Mordecai, who was in speech and action so blameless. And when this imagination burst of itself, like a bubble for which the water fails, beneath which it was made, there rose in my vision a maiden,²²⁷ weeping bitterly, and she was saying, “O queen, wherefore through anger hast thou willed to be naught? Thou hast killed thyself in order not to lose Lavinia: now thou hast lost me: I am she who mourns, mother, at thine, before another’s ruin.

In my imagination, I saw the image of the wicked act of the woman²²⁵ who was changed into the bird that most loves to sing. My mind was so absorbed in the vision that it took in nothing from the outside world. Then another vision rained down into my imagination. I saw a man crucified,²²⁶ dying with a scornful, fierce look. Around him stood the great Ahasuerus, his wife Esther, and the just Mordecai, who was so blameless in speech and action. This vision burst on its own, like a bubble when the water beneath it disappears. Then a maiden²²⁷ appeared before me, weeping bitterly. She said, “O queen, why did you choose to die in anger? You killed yourself to avoid losing Lavinia. Now you have lost me. Mother, I am Lavinia, and I mourn your ruin before I mourn another’s.

As sleep is broken, when of a sudden the new light strikes the closed eyes, and, broken, quivers ere it wholly dies, so my imagining fell down, soon as a light, greater by far than that to which we are accustomed, struck my face. I turned me to see where I was, when a voice said, “Here is the ascent;” which from every other object of attention removed me, and made my will so eager to behold who it was that was, speaking that it never rests till it is face to face. But, as before the sun which weighs down our sight, and by excess veils its own shape, so here my power failed. “This is a divine spirit who directs us, without our asking, on the way to go up, and with his own light conceals himself. He does for us as a man doth for himself; for he who sees the need and waits for asking, malignly sets himself already to denial. Now let us grant our feet to such an invitation; let us hasten to ascend ere it grows dark, for after, it would not be possible until the day returns.” Thus said my Guide; and I and he turned our steps to a stairway. And soon as I was on the first step, near use I felt a motion as of wings, and a fanning on my face,²²⁸ and I heard said, “Beati pacifici,’²²⁹ who are without ill anger.”

Sleep breaks when a sudden light strikes closed eyes, and it trembles before it fades completely. In the same way, my vision faded when a light far brighter than any we know struck my face. I turned to see where I was, and a voice said, “Here is the way up.” The voice drew my attention away from everything else. I was so eager to see who was speaking that I could not rest until I faced him. But my sight failed, as it does before the sun, whose overwhelming brightness hides its own shape. “This is a divine spirit who shows us the way up without our asking. His own light hides him. He does for us what a man would do for himself. For someone who sees a need and waits to be asked is already refusing, out of malice. Now let us accept such an invitation. Let us hurry up before it grows dark, for afterward we cannot climb until daylight returns.” So said my Guide, and we turned toward a stairway. As soon as I stepped onto the first step, I felt a movement nearby, like wings, and a breeze on my face,²²⁸ and I heard the words, “Beati pacifici,”²²⁹ those who are free from wrongful anger.

Now were the last sunbeams on which the night follows so lifted above us, that the stars were appearing on many sides. “O my virtue, why dost thou so melt away?” to myself I said, for I felt the power of my legs put in truce. We had come where the stair no farther ascends, and we were stayed fast even as a ship that arrives at the shore. And I listened a little, if I might hear anything in the new circle. Then I turned to my Master, and said, “My sweet Father, say what offence is purged here in the circle where we are: if the feet are stopped, let not thy discourse stop.” And he to me, “The love of good, less than it should have been, is here restored;²³⁰ here is plied again the ill-slackened oar. But that thou mayst still more clearly understand, turn thy mind to me, and thou shalt gather some good fruit from our delay.

The last rays of the sun, followed by night, had risen so high above us that stars were appearing all around. “O my strength, why are you fading away?” I asked myself, because I felt my legs losing their power. We had come to the end of the stairs and stopped, like a ship reaching shore. I listened for a while, hoping to hear something in the new circle. Then I turned to my Master and said, “My dear Father, tell me what sin is purged here in this circle. If our feet have stopped, do not let your words stop too.” He said to me, “Here, love of good that was less than it should have been is restored;²³⁰ here, the oar that was neglected is put to use again. But to understand more clearly, pay attention to me, and you will gain something good from our delay.”

“Neither Creator nor creature,” began he, “son, ever was without love, either natural, or of the mind,²³¹ and this thou knowest. The natural is always without error; but the other may err either through an evil object, or through too much or through too little vigor. While love is directed on the primal goods, and on the second moderates itself, it cannot be the cause of ill delight. But when it is bent to evil,²³² or runs to good with more zeal, or with less, than it ought, against the Creator works his own creature. Hence thou canst comprehend that love needs must be the seed in you of every virtue, and of every action that deserves punishment.

“Neither the Creator nor any creature,” he began, “has ever been without love, my son. Love is either natural or of the mind,²³¹ and you know this. Natural love is always without error. But love of the mind may go wrong by choosing an evil object. It may also go wrong by being too strong or too weak. As long as love is directed toward the highest goods and is moderate toward lesser goods, it cannot cause sinful pleasure. But a creature acts against the Creator when its love turns toward evil,²³² or pursues good too eagerly or not eagerly enough. So you can understand that love must be the seed in you of every virtue and every action deserving punishment.”

“Now since love can never bend its sight from the welfare of its subject,²³³ all things are safe from hatred of themselves; and since no being can be conceived of divided from the First,²³⁴ and standing by itself, from hating Him²³⁵ every affection is cut off. It follows, if, distinguishing, I rightly judge, that the evil which is loved is that of one s neighbor; and in three modes is this love born within your clay. There is he who hopes to excel through the abasement of his neighbor, and only longs that from his greatness he may be brought low.²³⁶ There is he who fears loss of power, favor, honor, fame, because another rises; whereat he is so saddened that he loves the opposite.²³⁷ And there is he who seems so outraged by injury that it makes him gluttonous of vengeance, and such a one must needs coin evil for others.²³⁸ This triform love is lamented down below.²³⁹

“Love can never turn its gaze away from the welfare of the one who loves.²³³ So nothing can hate itself. Nor can any being be imagined as separate from the First²³⁴ and existing on its own. So no love can be directed toward hating him.²³⁵ If I judge these distinctions rightly, it follows that the evil people love is harm to their neighbor. This love arises in your flesh in three ways. Some hope to rise by bringing their neighbor low. They long only to see their neighbor fall from greatness.²³⁶ Others fear losing power, favor, honor, or fame because someone else rises. They are so saddened by that rise that they love to see the opposite.²³⁷ Still others feel so outraged by an injury that they hunger for revenge. Such people must seek to cause harm to others.²³⁸ These three forms of love are lamented down below.²³⁹

“Now I would that thou hear of the other,—that which runs to the good in faulty measure. Every one confusedly apprehends a good²⁴⁰ in which the mind may be at rest, and which it desires; wherefore every one strives to attain it. If the love be slack that draws you to see this, or to acquire it, this cornice, after just repentance, torments you therefor. Another good there is,²⁴¹ which doth not make man happy, is not happiness, is not the good essence, the root of every good fruit. The love which abandons itself too much to this²⁴² is lamented above us in three circles, but how it is reckoned tripartite, I am silent, in order that thou seek it for thyself.”

“Now I want you to hear about the other kind of love, which pursues the good in the wrong measure. Everyone has a vague sense of a good²⁴⁰ that the mind desires and in which it can find rest. So everyone strives to attain it. If the love that draws you to see or attain this good is too weak, this terrace punishes you for it after just repentance. There is another good,²⁴¹ which does not make a person happy. It is not happiness, nor is it the essence of good, the root of every good fruit. Love that gives itself too fully to this good²⁴² is lamented in three circles above us. But I will not explain how it is divided into three kinds, so that you may discover this for yourself.”