Purgatory
Canto 29
The Earthly Paradise.—Mystic Procession or Triumph of the Church.
The Earthly Paradise. The Mystic Procession or Triumph of the Church.
Singing like a lady enamored, she, at the ending of her words, continued: “Beati, quorum tecta sunt peccata;” and, like nymphs who were wont to go solitary through the sylvan shades, this one desiring to see and that to avoid the sun, she moved on then counter to the stream, going up along the bank, and I at even pace with her, following her little step with little. Of her steps and mine were not a hundred, when the banks both like gave a turn, in such wise that toward the east I faced again. Nor thus had our way been long, when the lady wholly turned round to me, saying, “My brother, look and listen.” And lo! a sudden lustre ran from all quarters through the great forest, so that it put me in suspect of lightning. But because the lightning ceases even as it comes, and this, hasting, became more and more resplendent, in my thought I said, “What thing is this?” And a sweet melody ran through the luminous air; whereupon a righteous zeal caused me to blame the temerity of Eve, that, there, where time earth and the heavens were obedient, the woman only, and but just now formed, did not endure to stay under any veil; under which if she had devoutly stayed I should have tasted those ineffable delights before, and for a longer time. While I was going on and such first fruits of the eternal pleasure, all enrapt, and still desirous of more joys, in front of us the air under the green branches became like a blazing fire, and the sweet sound was now heard as a song.
Singing like a woman in love, she ended her words and continued: “Blessed are those whose sins are covered.” Then she moved upstream along the bank, like the nymphs who used to wander alone through the forest shade. Some sought the sun, while others avoided it. I kept pace with her, matching her small steps with my own. We had not taken a hundred steps when both banks curved, so that I faced east again. We had not gone much farther when the lady turned completely toward me and said, “My brother, look and listen.” Suddenly, a light flashed from every direction through the great forest, so that I thought it might be lightning. But lightning vanishes as soon as it appears, while this light quickly grew brighter and brighter. I thought, “What is this?” A sweet melody filled the shining air. Then a righteous zeal led me to blame Eve’s boldness. There, where earth and heaven were obedient, the woman alone, though only just created, would not remain under any veil. If she had devoutly remained under that veil, I would have tasted those indescribable delights earlier and for longer. As I went on, entranced by these first tastes of eternal pleasure and still eager for more joy, the air ahead of us, beneath the green branches, became like a blazing fire. The sweet sound could now be heard as a song.
“Blessed are they whose transgressions are forgiven.” Psalm xxxii. 1.
O Virgins sacrosanct, if ever hunger, cold, or vigils I have endured for you, time occasion spurs me that I claim reward therefor. Now it behoves that Helicon pour forth for me, and Urania aid me with her choir to put in verse things difficult to think.
O sacred Virgins, if I have ever endured hunger, cold, or sleepless nights for you, the time has come for me to claim my reward. Now I need Helicon to pour forth for me, and Urania and her choir to help me put things difficult to imagine into verse.
A little further on, the long tract of space which was still between us and them presented falsely what seemed seven trees of gold. But when I had come so near to them that the common object, which deceives the sense, lost not through distance any of its attributes, the power which supplies discourse to reason distinguished them as candlesticks, and in the voices of the song, “Hosanna.” From above the fair array was flaming, brighter by far than the Moon in the serene of midnight, in the middle of her month. I turned me round full of wonder to the good Virgil, and he replied to me with a look charged not less with amazement. Then I turned back my face to the high things that were moving toward us so slowly they would have been outstripped by new-made brides. The lady cried to me, “Why burnest thou only thus with affection for the living lights, and lookest not at that which comes behind them?” Then saw I folk coming behind, as if after their leaders, clothed in white, and such purity there never was on earth. The water was resplendent on the left flank, and reflected to me my left side, if I looked in it, even as a mirror. When on my bank I had such position that only the stream separated me, in order to see better, I gave halt to my steps. And I saw the flamelets go forward heaving the air behind them painted, and they had the semblance of streaming pennons, so that there above it remained divided by seven stripes all in those colors whereof the sun makes his bow, and Delia her girdle. These banners to the rear were longer than my sight, and according to my judgment the outermost were ten paces apart. Under so fair a sky as I describe, twenty-four elders, two by two, were coming crowned with flower-de-luce. All were singing, “Blessed thou among the daughters of Adam, and blessed forever be thy beauties.”
A little farther on, the great distance still between us made seven golden trees appear before me. But then I came closer. The object of sight, which deceives the senses, no longer lost any of its features because of the distance. My reasoning mind recognized the shapes as candlesticks, and I heard the voices singing “Hosanna.” The beautiful array blazed above, far brighter than the Moon in a clear midnight sky, at the middle of her month. Full of wonder, I turned to the good Virgil. He returned my look with no less amazement. Then I turned back toward the lofty things moving toward us. They moved so slowly that even new brides would have passed them. The lady cried to me, “Why are you so captivated by the living lights alone? Why do you not look at what follows them?” Then I saw people coming behind them, as if following their leaders. They were dressed in white, and such purity has never existed on earth. The water shone on my left. When I looked into it, it reflected my left side like a mirror. I reached a place on my bank where only the stream separated me from them. There I stopped to see better. I saw the little flames move forward, leaving the air behind them painted. They looked like streaming pennants. Above them, the air remained divided into seven stripes. They had all the colors of the bow made by the sun and the halo around Delia. These banners stretched farther behind than I could see. I judged that the outermost stripes were ten paces apart. Under the beautiful sky I have described, twenty-four elders came forward two by two, crowned with lilies. All were singing, “Blessed are you among the daughters of Adam, and blessed forever be your beauty.”
An object with features shared by many things, so that its specific nature cannot be seen from a distance.
The imagery of the Triumph of the Church described here comes largely from this Apocalypse. “And I turned to see the voice that spake with me. And being turned, I saw seven golden candlesticks.” (Revelation, i. 12). “And there were seven lamps of fire burning before the throne, which are the seven Spirits of God.” (Id., iv. 5). “And the Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the Lord.” (Isiah xi. 2).
Delia is the moon, and her girdle is the halo around it.
“And round about the throne were four and twenty seats: and upon the seats I saw four and twenty elders sitting, clothed in white raiment.” (Revelation, iv. 4.) These twenty-four elders symbolize the books of the Old Testament. They wear white robes and crowns of white lilies. White is the color of faith.
After the flowers, and the other fresh herbage opposite to me on the other bank, were free from those folk elect, even as light followeth light in heaven, came behind them four living creatures, crowned each one with green leaves. Every one was feathered with six wings, the feathers full of eyes; and the eyes of Argus were they living would be such. To describe their forms I scatter rhymes no more, Reader; for other spending constrains me so that in this I cannot be liberal. But read Ezekiel, who depicts them as he saw them coming from the cold region with wind, with cloud, and with fire; and such as thou wilt find them in his pages such were they here, save that as to the wings John is with me, and differs from him.
After the chosen people had passed over the flowers and fresh grass on the opposite bank, four living creatures followed them. They came just as one light follows another in heaven. Each creature was crowned with green leaves and had six feathered wings. The feathers were full of eyes, like the eyes Argus would have if he were alive. Reader, I will use no more rhymes to describe their forms. Other demands on my words keep me from being generous here. But read Ezekiel, who describes how he saw them coming from the cold region with wind, cloud, and fire. They appeared here just as you will find them in his pages, except for their wings. On that point, John agrees with me and differs from Ezekiel.
These four living creatures symbolize the Gospels. Ezekiel (i.6) describes the creatures as having four wings. But in the Revelation (iv. 8), John gives each of them six wings: “and they were full of eyes within.” They wear green crowns because green is the color of hope.
The space between these four contained a triumphal chariot upon two wheels, which by the neck of a griffon came drawn along. And he stretched up one and the other of his wings between the midmost stripe, and the three and three, so that he did harm to no one of them by cleaving it. So far they rose that they were not seen. His members were of gold so far as he was bird, and the rest were white mixed with red. Not Africanus, or indeed Augustus, gladdened Rome with so beautiful a chariot; but even that of the Sun would be poor to it,—that of the Sun which, going astray, was consumed at the prayer of the devout Earth, when Jove in his secrecy was just. Three ladies, at the right wheel, came dancing in a circle; one so ruddy that hardly would she have been noted in the fire; the next was as if her flesh and bones had been made of emerald; the third seemed snow just fallen. And now they seemed led by the white, now by the red, and from her song the others took their step both slow and swift. On the left four robed in purple made festival, following the measure of one of them who had three eyes in her head.
In the space between these four was a two-wheeled triumphal chariot, drawn by a griffon harnessed by the neck. The griffon stretched its wings upward, one on each side of the middle stripe, with three stripes on either side. The wings did not cut through or damage any of the stripes. They rose so high that their tips could not be seen. The griffon’s birdlike parts were gold, and the rest of its body was white mixed with red. Neither Africanus nor Augustus delighted Rome with so beautiful a chariot. Even the chariot of the Sun would seem poor beside it. The Sun’s chariot had gone astray and was destroyed at the prayer of the devout Earth, when Jove acted justly in secret. Three ladies danced in a circle beside the right wheel. One was so red that she would hardly have been visible in a fire. The next looked as if her flesh and bones were made of emerald. The third looked like freshly fallen snow. At times the white lady seemed to lead, and at other times the red one did. The others followed the pace of her song, whether slow or fast. On the left, four ladies dressed in purple celebrated, dancing to the rhythm set by one of them, who had three eyes in her head.
The griffon, half eagle and half lion, represents Christ’s two natures, divine and human. The cart he pulls represents the Church.
When Phaethon drove it.
The theological virtues, Faith, Hope, and Charity, each in its appropriate color.
The four cardinal Virtues wear purple, the imperial color, symbolizing their rule over human conduct. Prudence has three eyes, looking at the past, present, and future.
Next after all the group described, I saw two old men, unlike in dress, but like in action, both dignified and staid. The one showed himself one of the familiars of that supreme Hippocrates whom Nature made for the creatures that she holds most dear the other showed the contrary care, with a shining and sharp sword, such that it caused me fear on the hither side of the stream. Then I saw four humble in appearance, and behind all an old man solitary coming asleep with lively countenance. And these seven were robed like the first band; but they made not a thicket of lilies round their heads, rather of roses, and of other red flowers. The sight at little distance would have sworn that all were aflame above their brows. And when the chariot was opposite to me thunder was heard, and those worthy people seemed to have further progress interdicted, stopping there with the first ensigns.
After the whole group I have described, I saw two old men. They were dressed differently but acted alike, both dignified and composed. One appeared to be a follower of the great Hippocrates, whom Nature made for the creatures she holds most dear. The other showed the opposite concern, carrying a bright, sharp sword that frightened me even across the stream. Then I saw four who looked humble. Behind them all came an old man, alone and asleep, but with a lively expression. These seven were dressed like the first group, but they wore crowns of roses and other red flowers instead of lilies. From a short distance away, anyone would have sworn that their brows were aflame. When the chariot was opposite me, thunder sounded. The worthy people seemed to be forbidden to go farther, and they stopped there with the first banners.
The book of Acts is represented by the rho type of its author, St. Luke, “the beloved physician.” Colossians, iv. 14. Man is the creature Nature loves most.
The Pauline Epistles are represented by their writer, whose sword symbolizes war and martyrdom, a concern contrary to healing people.
The four humble-looking figures represent the writers of the minor Epistles. They are followed by St. John, the writer of the Revelation. He is asleep but has a lively expression because he was “in the Spirit” when he saw his vision.