I found Ubertino at the statue of the Virgin2. Silently I joined him and for a while pretended (I confess) to pray. Then I made bold to speak to him.
“Holy Father,” I said to him, “may I ask enlighten?ment and counsel of you?”
Ubertino looked at me and, taking me by the hand, rose and led me to a bench, where we both sat. He embraced me tightly, and I could feel his breath on my face.
“Dearest son,” he said, “anything this poor sinner can do for your soul will be done joyfully5. What is distressing6 you? Yearnings?” he asked, almost with yearning7 himself. “The yearnings of the flesh?”
“No,” I replied, blushing, “if anything the yearnings of the mind, which wants to know too many things ...”
“And that is bad. The Lord knows all things, and we must only adore His knowledge.”
“But we must also distinguish good from evil and understand human passions. I am a novice8, but I will be monk10 and priest, and I must learn where evil lies, and what it looks like, in order to recognize it one day and teach others to recognize it.”
“This is true, my boy. What do you want to know, then?”
“The tare11 of heresy12, Father,” I said with conviction. And then, all in one breath, “I have heard tell of a wicked man who has led others astray: Fra Dolcino.”
Ubertino remained silent, then he said: “That is right, you heard Brother William and me refer to him the other evening. But it is a nasty story, and it grieves me to talk about it, because it teaches (yes, in this sense you should know it, to derive13 a useful lesson from it)—because, I was saying, it teaches how the love of penance14 and the desire to purify the world can pro15?duce bloodshed and slaughter16.” He shifted his position on the bench, relaxing his grasp of my shoulders but still keeping one hand on my neck, as if to communi?cate to me his knowledge or (I could not tell) his intensity17.
“The story begins before Fra Dolcino,” he said, “more than sixty years ago, when I was a child. It was in Parma. There a certain Gherardo Segarelli began preaching, exhorting18 all to a life of penitence19, and he would go along the roads crying ‘Penitenziagite!’ which was the uneducated man’s way of saying ‘Penitentiam agite, appropinquabit enim regnum coelorum.’ He enjoined20 his disciples22 to imitate the apostles, and he chose to call his sect23 the order of the Apostles, and his men were to go through the world like poor beggars, living only on alms. ...”
“Like the Fraticelli,” I said. “Wasn’t this the command of our Lord and of your own Francis?”
“Yes,” Ubertino admitted with a slight hesitation24 in his voice, sighing. “But perhaps Gherardo exaggerated. He and his followers26 were accused of denying the authority of the priests and the celebration of Mass and confession27, and of being idle vagabonds.”
“But the Spiritual Franciscans were accused of the same thing. And aren’t the Minorites saying today that the authority of the Pope should not be recognized?”
“Yes, but not the authority of priests. We Minorites are ourselves priests. It is difficult, boy, to make distinc?tions in these things. The line dividing good from evil is so fine. ... In some way Gherardo erred29 and became guilty of heresy. ... He asked to be admitted to the order of the Minorites, but our brothers would not receive him. He spent his days in the church of our brothers, and he saw the paintings there of the apostles wearing sandals on their feet and cloaks wrapped around their shoulders, and so he let his hair and beard grow, put sandals on his feet, and wore the rope of the Friars Minor28, because anyone who wants to found a new congregation always takes something from the order of the Blessed Francis.”
“Then he was in the right. ...”
“But somewhere he did wrong. ... Dressed in a white cloak over a white tunic31, with his hair long, he acquired among simple people the reputation for saintliness. He sold a little house of his, and having received the money, he stood on a stone from which in ancient times the magistrates32 were accustomed to harangue33, and he held the little sack of gold pieces in his hand, and he did not scatter34 them or give them to the poor, but, after summoning some rogues35 dicing36 nearby, he flung the money in their midst and said, ‘Let him take who will,’ and those rogues took the money and went off to gamble it away, and they blasphemed the living God, and he who had given to them heard and did not blush.”
“But Francis also stripped himself of everything, and today from William I heard that he went to preach to ravens37 and hawks38, as well as to the lepers—namely, to the dregs that the people who call themselves virtuous39 had cast out. ...”
“Yes, but Gherardo somehow erred; Francis never set himself in conflict with the holy church, and the Gospel says to give to the poor, not to rogues. Gherardo gave and received nothing in return because he had given to bad people, and he had a bad beginning, a bad continuation, and a bad end, because his congregation was disapproved40 by Pope Gregory the Tenth.
“Perhaps,” I said, “he was a less broad-minded pope than the one who approved the Rule of Francis. …”
“He was, but Gherardo somehow erred, and Francis, on the contrary, knew well what he was doing. And finally, boy, these keepers of pigs and cows who sudden?ly became Pseudo Apostles wanted to live blissfully and without sweat off the alms of those whom the Friars Minor had educated with such efforts and such heroic examples of poverty! But that is not the point,” he added promptly42. “The point is that to resemble the apostles, who had still been Jews, Gherardo Segarelli had himself circumcised, which is contrary to the words of Paul to the Galatians—and you know that many holy persons proclaim that the future Antichrist will come from the race of the circumcised. ... But Gherardo did still worse: he went about collecting the simple people and saying, ‘Come with me into the vineyard,’ and those who did not know him went with him into another’s vineyard, believing it his, and they ate another’s grapes. ...”
“Surely the Minorites didn’t defend private property,” I said impertinently.
Ubertino stared at me severely43. “The Minorites ask to be poor, but they have never asked others to be poor. You cannot attack the property of good Christians45 with impunity46; the good Christians will label you a bandit. And so it happened to Gherardo. They said of him finally that to test his strength of will and his conti?nence he slept with women without having carnal knowledge of them; but when his disciples tried to imitate him, the results were quite different. ... Oh, these are not things a boy should know: the female is a vessel48 of the Devil. ... And then they began to brawl49 among themselves over the command of the sect, and evil things happened. And yet many came to Gherardo, not only peasants, but also people of the city, members of the guilds50, and Gherardo made them strip themselves so that, naked, they could follow the naked Christ, and he sent them out into the world to preach, but he had a sleeveless tunic made for himself, white, of strong stuff, and in this garb51 he looked more like a clown than like a religious! They lived in the open air, but sometimes they climbed into the pulpits of the churches, disturb?ing the assembly of devout52 folk and driving out their preachers, and once they set a child on the bishop53’s throne in the Church of Sant’Orso in Ravenna. And they proclaimed themselves heirs of the doctrine54 of Joachim of Floris. ...”
“But so do the Franciscans,” I said, “and also Gerard of Borgo San Donnino, and you, too!” I cried.
“Calm yourself, boy. Joachim of Floris was a great prophet and he was the first to understand that Francis would begin a renewal55 of the church. But the Pseudo Apostles used his doctrine to justify56 their follies57. Segarelli took with him a female apostle, one Tripia or Ripia, who claimed to have the gift of prophecy. A woman, you understand?”
“But, Father,” I tried to counter, “the other evening you yourself spoke58 of the saintliness of Clare of Montefalco and Angela of Foligno. ...”
“They were saints! They lived in humility59, recogniz?ing the power of the church; they never claimed the gift of prophecy! But the Pseudo Apostles asserted that women could go preaching from city to city, as many other heretics also said. And they recognized no differ?ence among the wed60 and the unwed, nor was any vow61 considered perpetual. In short, not to weary you too much with very sad stories whose subtleties62 you cannot understand well, Bishop Obizzo of Parma finally decid?ed to put Gherardo in irons. But here a strange thing happened that tells you how weak is human nature, and how insidious63 the weed of heresy. Because in the end the bishop freed Gherardo and received him at his own table, and laughed at his japes, and kept him as his buffoon64.”
“But why?”
“I do not know—or, rather, I fear I do know. The bishop was a nobleman and did not like the merchants and craftsmen65 of the city. Perhaps he did not mind Gherardo’s preaching against them with his talk of poverty, or did not care that from begging for alms Gherardo proceeded to robbery. But in the end the Pope. intervened, and the bishop resumed his proper seventy, and Gherardo ended on the pyre as an impeni?tent heretic. It was at the beginning of this century.”
“And what do these things have to do with Fra Dolcino?”
“They are connected, and this shows you how heresy survives even the destruction of the heretics. This Dolcino was a priest’s bastard66, living in the Novara diocese, this part of Italy, a bit farther north. He was a youth of sharp mind and he was educated in letters, but he stole from the priest who housed him and fled eastward67, to the city of Trent. And there he resumed the preaching of Gherardo, but in a more heretical vein68, declaring that he was the only true apostle of God and that everything should be common in love, and that it was licit to lie indiscriminately with all women, whereby no one could be accused of concubinage, even if he went with both a wife and a daughter. ...”
“Did he truly preach those things, or was he just accused of preaching them? I have heard that the Spirituals, like those monks69 of Montefalco, were ac?cused of similar crimes. ...”
“De hoc satis,” Ubertino interrupted me sharply. “They were no longer monks. They were heretics. And befouled by Fra Dolcino himself. And, furthermore, listen to me: it is enough to know what Fra Dolcino did afterward71 to call him a wicked man. How he became familiar with the Pseudo Apostles’ teachings, I do not even know. Perhaps he went through Parma as a youth and heard Gherardo. It is known that in the Bologna region he kept in touch with those heretics after Segarelli’s death. And it is known for certain that he began his preaching at Trent. There he seduced72 a very beautiful maiden of noble family, Margaret, or she seduced him, as Hélo?se seduced Abelard, because—never forget—?it is through woman that the Devil penetrates73 men’s hearts! At that point, the Bishop of Trent drove him from the diocese, but by then Dolcino had gathered more than a thousand followers, and he began a long march, which took him back to the area where he was born. And along the way other deluded74 folk joined him, seduced by his words, and perhaps he was also joined by many Waldensian heretics who lived in the mountains he passed through, or he himself wanted to join the Waldensians of these lands to the north. When he reached the Novara region, Dolcino found a situa?tion favorable to his revolt, cause the vassals76 governing the town of Gattinara in the name of the Bishop of Vercelli had been driven out by the populace, who then welcomed Dolcino’s outlaws77 as their worthy78 allies.”
“What had the bishop’s vassals done?”
“I do not know, and it is not my place to judge. But as you see, heresy in many cases is wed to the revolt against overlords, and this is why the heretic begins by preaching Madonna Poverty and then falls prey79 to all the temptations of power, war, violence. There was a conflict among certain families in the city of Vercelli, and the Pseudo Apostles took advantage of it, and these families exploited the disorder81 brought by the Pseudo Apostles. The feudal82 lords hired mercenaries to rob the citizens, and the citizens sought the protection of the Bishop of Novara.”
“What a complicated story. But whose side was Dolcino on?”
“I do not know; he was a faction83 unto himself; he entered into all these disputes and saw them as an opportunity for preaching the struggle against private ownership in the name of poverty. Dolcino and his followers, who were now three thousand strong, camped on a hill near Novara known as Bald Mountain, and they built hovels and fortifications, and Dolcino ruled over that whole throng84 of men and women, who lived in the most shameful85 promiscuity86. From there he sent letters to his faithful in which he expounded87 his hereti?cal doctrine. He said and he wrote that their ideal was poverty and they were not bound by any vow of exter?nal obedience88, and that he, Dolcino, had been sent by God to break the seals of the prophecies and to under?stand the writings of the Old and the New Testaments89. And he called secular91 clerics—preachers and Minorites?—ministers of the Devil, and he absolved93 everyone from the duty of obeying them. And he identified four ages in the life of the people of God: The first was that of the Old Testament90, the patriarchs and prophets, before the coming of Christ, when marriage was good because God’s people had to multiply. The second was the age of Christ and the apostles, and this was the epoch94 of saintliness and chastity. Then came the third, when the popes had first to accept earthly riches in order to govern the people; but when mankind began to stray from the love of God, Benedict came, and spoke against all temporal possessions. When the monks of Benedict also then went back to accumulating wealth, the monks of Saint Francis and Saint Dominic came, even more stern than Benedict in preaching against earthly power and riches. But finally now, when again the lives of so many prelates were contradicting all those good precepts95, we had reached the end of the third age, and it was necessary to follow the teachings of the Apostles.”
“Then Dolcino was preaching the things that the Franciscans had preached, and among the Franciscans, the Spirituals in particular, and you yourself, Father!”
“Ah, yes, but he derived96 a perfidious97 syllogism98 from them! He said that to bring to an end this third age of corruption99, all the clergy100, monks, and friars had to die a very cruel death; he said that all prelates of the church, all clerics, nuns101, religious male and female, all those who belong to the preaching orders and the Minorites, the hermits102, and even Boniface the Pope had to be exterminated103 by the Emperor he, Dolcino, had chosen, and this was to be Frederick of Sicily.”
“But didn’t that same Frederick receive with favor in Sicily the Spirituals expelled from Umbria, and isn’t it the Minorites who ask that the Emperor, though he is now Louis, destroy the temporal power of the Pope and the cardinals104?”
“It is characteristic of heresy, or of madness, that it transforms the most upright thoughts and aims them at consequences contrary to the law of God and man. The Minorites have never asked the Emperor to kill other priests.
He was mistaken, I know now. Because, a few months later, when the Bavarian established his own order in Rome, Marsilius and other Minorites did to religious who were faithful to the Pope exactly what Dolcino had asked to have done. By this I don’t mean that Dolcino was right; if anything, Marsilius was equally wrong. But I was beginning to wonder, especially after that afternoon’s conversation with William, if it were possi?ble for the simple people who followed Dolcino to distinguish between the promises of the Spirituals and Dolcino’s enactment105 of them. Was he not perhaps guilty of putting into practice what presumably orthodox men had preached, in a purely106 mystical fashion? Or was that perhaps where the difference lay? Did holiness consist to waiting for God to give us what His saints had promised, without trying to obtain it through earthly means? Now I know this is the case and I know why Dolcino was in error: the order of things must not be transformed, even if we must fervently107 hope for its transformation108. But that evening I was in the grip of contradictory109 thoughts.
“Finally,” Ubertino was saying to me, “you always find the mark of heresy in pride. In a second letter, to the year 1303, Dolcino appointed himself supreme111 head of the Apostolic congregation, and named as his lieuten?ants the perfidious Margaret—a woman—and Longinus of Bergamo, Frederick of Novara, Albert Carentinus, and Walderic of Brescia. And he began raving112 about a sequence of future popes, two good—the first and the last—and two wicked, the second and the third. The first is Celestine, the second is Boniface the Eighth, of whom the prophets say, ‘The pride of your heart has dishonored you, O you who live in the fissures113 of cliffs.’ The third Pope is not named, but of him Jeremiah is supposed to have said, ‘There, like a lion.’ And—infamy!—Dolcino recognized the lion in Frederick of Sicily. For Dolcino the fourth Pope was still unknown, and he was to be the Sainted Pope, the Angelic Pope of whom the abbot Joachim spoke. He would be chosen by God, and then Dolcino and all his people (who at this point were already four thousand) would receive together the grace of the Holy Spirit, and it would renew the church until the end of the world. But in the three years preceding his coming, all evil would have to be consummated114. And this Dolcino tried to do, carrying war everywhere. And the fourth pope, and here you see how the Devil mocks his familiars, was in fact Clement115 the Fifth, who proclaimed the crusade against Dolcino. And it was right, because in his letters at this point Dolcino sus?tained theories that could not be reconciled with orthodoxy. He declared the Roman church a whore, said that obedience is not due priests, that all spiritual power had now passed to the sect of the Apostles, that only the Apostles represented the new church, the Apostles could annul116 matrimony, no one would be saved unless he was a member of the sect, no pope could absolve92 sin, tithes117 should not be paid, a more perfect life was lived without vows118 than with vows, and a consecrated119 church was worthless for prayer, no better than a stable, and Christ could be worshiped both in the woods and in the churches.”
“Did he really say these things?”
“Of course, this is certain. He wrote them. But unfortunately he did still worse. After he had settled on Bald Mountain, he began sacking the villages in the valley, raiding them to procure120 provisions—waging out?right war, in short, against the nearby towns.”
“Were all opposed to him?”
“We do not know. Perhaps he received support from some; I told you that he had involved himself in the snarled121 knot of local dissensions. Meanwhile winter had come, the winter of the year 1305, one of the harshest in recent decades, and there was great famine all around. Dolcino sent a third letter to his followers, and many more joined him, but on that hill life had become intolerable, and they otter122 so hungry that they ate the flesh of horses and other animals, and boiled hay. And many died.”
“But whom were they fighting against now?”
“The Bishop of Vercelli had appealed to Clement the Fifth, and a crusade had been called against the heretics. A plenary indulgence was granted to anyone taking part in it, and Louis of Savoy, the inquisitors of Lombardy, the Archbishop of Milan were prompt to act. Many took up the cross to aid the people of Vercelli and Novara, even from Savoy, Provence, France; and the Bishop of Vercelli was the supreme commander. There were constant clashes between the vanguards of the two armies, but Dolcino’s fortifications were impregnable, and somehow the wicked received help.”
“From whom?”
“From other wicked men, I believe, who were happy to foment123 this disorder. Toward the end of the year 1305, the heresiarch was forced, however, to abandon Bald Mountain, leaving behind the wounded and ill, and he moved into the territory of Trivero, where he entrenched124 himself on a mountain that was called Zubello at the time and later was known as Rubello or Rebello, because it had become the fortress125 of the rebels of the church. In any case, I cannot tell you everything that happened. There were terrible massacres126, but in the end the rebels were forced to surrender, Dolcino and his people were captured, and they rightly ended up on the pyre.”
“The beautiful Margaret, too?”
Ubertino looked at me, “So you remembered she was beautiful? She was beautiful, they say, and many local lords tried to make her their bride to save her from the stake. But she would not have it; she died impenitent127 with her impenitent lover. And let this be a lesson to you: beware of the whore of Babylon, even when she assumes the form of the most exquisite128 creature.”
“But now tell me., Father: I have learned that the cellarer of the convent, and perhaps also Salvatore, met Dolcino and were with him in some way. ...”
“Be silent! Do not utter rash statements. I found the cellarer in a convent of Minorites. I do not know where Remigio had been before that. I know he was always a good monk, at least from the standpoint of orthodoxy. As for the rest, alas129, the flesh is weak. ...”
“What do you mean?”
“These are not things you should know.” He drew me close again, embracing me and pointing to the statue of the Virgin. “You must be introduced to the immaculate love. There is she in whom femininity is sublimated130. This is why you may call her beautiful, like the beloved in the Song of Songs. In her,” he said, his face carried away by an inner rapture131, like the abbot’s the day before when he spoke of gems132 and the gold of his vessels133, “in her, even the body’s grace is a sign of the beauties of heaven, and this is why the sculptor134 has portrayed135 her with all the graces that should adorn136 a woman.” He pointed110 to the Virgin’s slender bust137, held high and tight by a cross-laced bodice, which the Child’s tiny hands fondled. “You see? As the doctors have said Beautiful also are the breasts, which protrude138 slightly, only faintly tumescent, and do not swell139 licentiously140, suppressed but not depressed141. ... What do you feel before this sweetest of visions?”
I blushed violently, feeling myself stirred as if by an inner fire. Ubertino must have realized it, or perhaps he glimpsed my flushed cheeks, for he promptly added, “But you must learn to distinguish the fire of supernat?ural love from the raving of the senses. It is difficult even for the saints.”
“But how can the good love be recognized?” I asked, trembling.
“What is love? There is nothing in the world, neither man nor Devil nor any thing, that I hold as suspect as love, for it penetrates the soul more than any other thing. Nothing exists that so fills and binds142 the heart as love does. Therefore, unless you have those weapons that subdue143 it, the soul plunges144 through love into an immense abyss. And I believe that without Margaret’s seductions Dolcino would not have damned himself, and without the reckless and promiscuous145 life on Bald Mountain, fewer would have felt the lure146 of his rebellion. Mind you, I do not say these things to you only about evil love, which of course all must shun147 as a thing of the Devil; I say this also, and with great fear, of the good love between God and man, between man and his neighbor. It often happens that two or three people, men or women, love one another quite cordially and harbor reciprocal, special fondness, and desire to live always close, and what one party wishes, the other desires. And I confess that I felt something of the kind for most virtuous women, like Angela and Clare. Well, that, too, is blameworthy, even though it is spiritual and conceived in God’s name. ... Because even the love felt by the soul, if it is not forearmed, if it is felt warmly, then falls, or proceeds in disorder. Oh, love has various properties: first the soul grows tender, then it sickens ... but then it feels the true warmth of divine love and cries out and moans and becomes as stone flung in the forge to melt into lime, and it crackles, licked by the flame. …”
“And this is good love?”
Ubertino stroked my head, and as I looked at him, I saw his eyes melt with tears. “Yes, this, finally, is good love.” He took his hand from my shoulder. But how difficult it is,” he added, “how difficult it is to distin?guish it from the other. And sometimes when devils tempt80 your soul you feel like the man hanged by the neck who, with his hands tied behind him and his eyes blindfolded148, remains149 hanging on the gallows150 and yet lives, with no help, no support, no remedy, swinging in the empty air. ...”
His face was bathed not only with tears but also by a faint perspiration151. “Go now,” he said to me quickly. “I have told you what you wanted to know, On this side the choir152 of angels; on that, the gaping153 maw of hell. Go, and the Lord be praised.” He prostrated154 himself again before the Virgin, and I heard him sobbing155 softly. He was praying.
I did not leave the church. The talk with Ubertino had kindled156 in my spirit, and in my viscera, a strange fire and an unspeakable restlessness. Perhaps for this reason, I felt inclined to disobedience and decided157 to return to the library alone. I myself didn’t know what I was looking for. I wanted to explore an unknown place on my own; I was fascinated by the idea of being able to orient myself there without my master’s help. I climbed the stairs as Dolcino had climbed up Monte Rubello.
I had the lamp with me (why had I brought it—was I perhaps already harboring this secret plan?) and I entered the ossarium almost with my eyes closed. In no time I was in the scriptorium. It was a fatal evening, I believe, because as I was wandering among the desks, I glimpsed one on which lay an open manuscript that a monk had been copying: Historia fratris Dulcini Heresiarche. I believe it was the desk of Peter of Sant’Albano, who I had been told was writing a monumental history of heresy (after what happened in the abbey, he naturally gave up writing it—but we must not get ahead of the story). So it was therefore normal that the text should be there, and with it others on kindred subjects, on the Patarines and the flagellants. But I took this circumstance as a super?natural sign, whether celestial158 or diabolical159 I still cannot say, and I bent160 eagerly to read the writing. It was not very long, and I found there also what Ubertino had not told me, obviously recounted by one who had seen all and whose imagination was still inflamed161 by it.
I learned then how, in March of 1307, on Holy Saturday, Dolcino, Margaret, and Longinus, captured at last, were taken into the city of Biella and handed over to the bishop, who was awaiting the decision of the Pope. The Pope, hearing the news, transmitted it to King Philip of France, writing: “We have received most welcome news, rich in joy and exultation162, for that pestiferous demon163, son of Belial, the most horrendous164 heresiarch Dolcino, after many dangers, long efforts, massacres, and frequent battles, is finally incarcerated165 with his followers in our prisons, thanks to our venerat?ed brother Ranier, Bishop of Vercelli, captured on the day of the Lord’s holy supper; and numerous people who were with him, infected by the contagion166, were killed that same day.” The Pope was merciless toward the prisoners and ordered the bishop to put them to death. Then, in July of that same year, the first day of the month, the heretics were handed over to the secular arm. As the bells of the city rang joyously167, the heretics were placed in a wagon169, surrounded by the executioners, followed by the militia170, and carried through the entire city, and at every corner, men with red-hot pincers tore the flesh of the guilty. Margaret was burned first, before Dolcino, who did not move a muscle of his face, just as he had not uttered a moan when the pincers bit into his limbs. Then the wagon continued on its way, while the executioners thrust their irons into pots filled with glowing coals. Dolcino underwent other torments171 and remained silent, though when they amputated his nose he shrugged172 a bit, and when they tore off his male member he emitted a long sigh, like a groan173. The last things he said sounded impertinent, for he warned that he would rise on the third day. Then he was burned and his ashes were scattered174 in the wind.
I folded the manuscript with trembling hands. Dolcino had committed many crimes, I had been told, but he had been horribly burned to death. And at the stake he had behaved ... how? With the steadfastness175 of martyrs177 or with the arrogance178 of the damned? As I staggered up the steps to the library, I realized why I was so upset. I suddenly recalled a scene I had witnessed not many months before, shortly after my arrival in Tuscany. I wondered, indeed, why I had almost forgotten it till then, as if my sick soul had wanted to erase179 a memory that weighed on me like a nightmare. Or, rather, I had not forgotten it, because every time I heard the Fraticelli discussed, I saw again the scenes of that event, but I immediately thrust them down into the recesses180 of my spirit, as if witnessing that horror had been a sin.
I had first heard talk of the Fraticelli in the days when, in Florence, I had seen one burned at the stake. It was shortly before I met Brother William in Pisa. He had delayed his arrival in that city, and my father had given me leave to visit Florence, whose churches I had heard praised as most beautiful. I wandered about Tuscany, to learn better the vulgar Italian tongue, and I finally stayed a week in Florence, because I had heard much talk of that city and wished to know it.
And so it was that when I had barely arrived I learned of a great trial that was stirring up the whole city. A heretic Fraticello, accused of crimes against religion and haled before the bishop and other ecclesias?tics, was being subjected to severe inquisition at the time. And, following those who told me about it, I went to the place where the trial was taking place, for I heard the people say that this friar, Michael by name, was truly a very pious181 man who had preached penance and poverty, repeating the words of Saint Francis, and had been brought before the judges because of the spitefulness of certain women who, pretending to con3?fess themselves to him, had then attributed heretical notions to him; and he had indeed been seized by the bishop’s men in the house of those same women, a fact that amazed me, because a man of the church should never go to administer the sacraments in such unsuit?able places; but this seemed to be a weakness of the Fraticelli, this failure to take propriety182 into due con?sideration, and perhaps there was some truth in the popular belief that held them to be not only heretics but also of dubious183 behavior (as it was always said of the Catharists that they were Bulgars and sodomites).
I came to the Church of San Salvatore, where the inquisition was in progress, but I could not enter, because of the great crowd outside it. However, some had hoisted184 themselves to the bars of the windows and, clinging there, could see and hear what was going on, and they reported it to those below. The inquisitors were reading to Brother Michael the confession he had made the day before, in which he said that Christ and his apostles “held nothing individually or in common as property,” but Michael protested that the notary185 had now added “many false consequences” and he shouted (this I heard from outside), “You will have to defend yourselves on the day of judgment186!” But the inquisitors read the confession as they had drawn187 it up, and at the end they asked him whether he wanted humbly188 to follow the opinions of the church and all the people of the city. And I heard Michael shouting in a loud voice that he wanted to follow what he believed, namely that he “wanted to keep Christ poor and crucified, and Pope John XXII was a heretic because he said the opposite.” A great debate ensued, in which the inquisitors, many of them Franciscans, sought to make him under?stand that the Scriptures190 had not said what he was saying, and he accused them of denying the very Rule of their order, and they assailed191 him, asking him wheth?er he thought he understood Scripture189 better than they, who were masters. And Fra Michael, very stub?born indeed, contested them, so that they began pro?voking him with such assertions as “Then we want you to consider Christ a property owner and Pope John a Catholic and holy man.” And Michael, never faltering192, said, “No, a heretic.” And they said they had never seen anyone so tenacious193 in his own wickedness. But among the crowd outside the building I heard many compare him to Christ before the Pharisees, and I realized that among the people many believed in the holiness of the friar Michael.
Finally the bishop’s men took him back to prison in irons. And that evening I was told that many monks, friends of the bishop, had gone to insult him and enjoin21 him to retract194, but he answered like a man sure of his own truth. And he repeated to each of them that Christ was poor and that Saint Francis and Saint Dominic had said so as well, and that if for professing195 this upright opinion he had to be condemned196 to the stake, so much the better, because in a short time he would be able to see what the Scriptures describe, the twenty?-four elders of the Apocalypse and Jesus Christ and Saint Francis and the glorious martyrs. And I was told that he said, “If we read with such fervor197 the doctrine of certain sainted abbots, how much greater should be our fervor and our joy in desiring to be in their midst?” And after words of this sort, the inquisitors left the prison with grim faces, crying out in indignation (and I heard them), “He has a devil in him!”
The next day we learned that the sentence had been pronounced; I went to the bishop’s palace, where I could see the parchment, and I copied a part of it onto my tablet.
It began “In nomine Domini amen. Hec est quedam condemnatio corporalis et sententia condemnationis corporalis lata, data et in hiis scriptis sententialiter pronumptiata et promulgata. …” etc., and it went on with a stern description of the sins and crimes of the said Michael; among these one seemed to me most foul70, even if I do not know (considering the conduct of the trial) whether he really affirmed this, but it was said, in short, that the afore-mentioned Minorite had proclaimed that Saint Thomas Aquinas was not a saint nor did he enjoy eternal salvation198, but was, on the contrary, damned and in a state of perdition! And the sentence concluded, establishing the punishment, since the accused would not mend his ways:
Idcirco, dictum Johannem vocatum fratrem Mic?chaelem hereticum et scismaticum quod ducatur ad locum iustitie consuetum, et ibidem igne et flammis igneis accensis concremetur et comburatur, ita quod penitus moriatur et anima a corpore separetur.
And after the sentence had been made public, more men of the church came to the prison and warned Michael of what would happen, and I heard them say then, “Brother Michael, the miters and copes have already been made, and painted on them are Fraticelli accompanied by devils.” To frighten him and force him finally to retract. But Brother Michael knelt down and said, “I believe that beside the pyre there will be our father Francis, and I further believe there will be Jesus and the apostles, and the glorious martyrs Bartholomew and Anthony.” Which was a way of refusing for the last time the inquisitors’ offers.
The next morning I, too, was on the bridge before the bishop’s palace, where the inquisitors had gathered; Brother Michael, still in irons, was brought to face them. One of his faithful followers knelt before him to receive his benediction199, and this follower25 was seized by the men-at-arms and taken at once to prison. Afterward, the inquisitors again read the sentence to the condemned man and asked him once more whether he wished to repent200. At every point where the sentence said he was a heretic Michael replied, “I am no heretic; a sinner, yes, but Catholic,” and when the text named “the most venerable and holy Pope John XXII” Michael answered, “No, a heretic.” Then the bishop ordered Michael to come and kneel before him, and Michael said no one should kneel before heretics. They forced him to his knees and he murmured, “God will pardon me.” And after he had been led out in all his priestly vestments, a ritual began, and one by one his vestments were stripped away until he remained in that little garment that the Florentines call a “cioppa.” And as is the custom when a priest is defrocked, they seared the pads of his fingers with a hot iron and they shaved his head. Then he was handed over to the captain and his men, who treated him very harshly and put him in irons, to take him back to prison, as he said to the crowd, “Per Dominum moriemur.” He was to be burned, as I found out, only the next day. And on this day they also went to ask him whether he wished to confess himself and receive communion. And he refused, saying it was a sin to accept the sacraments from one in a state of sin. Here, I believe, he was wrong, and he showed he had been corrupted202 by the heresy of the Patarines.
Finally it was the day of the execution, and a gonfa?lonier came for him, appearing friendly, for he asked what sort of man Michael was and why he was so stubborn when he had only to affirm what the whole populace affirmed and accept the opinion of Holy Mother Church. But Michael, very harshly, said, “I believe in Christ poor and crucified.” And the gonfalon?ier went away, making a helpless gesture. Then the captain arrived with his men and took Michael into the courtyard, where the bishop’s vicar reread the confes?sion and the sentence to him. Michael interrupted again to contest opinions falsely attributed to him; these truly were matters of such subtlety203 that I do not recall them, and at that time did not understand them clearly. But these were surely what decided the death of Michael and the persecution204 of the Fraticelli. I did not understand why the men of the church and of the secular arm were so violent against people who wanted to live in poverty and held that Christ had not owned worldly goods. Because, I said to myself, if anything, they should fear men who wish to live in wealth and take money away from others, and lead the church into sin and introduce simoniacal practices into it. And I spoke of this with a man standing205 near me, for I could not keep silent any more. He smiled mockingly and said to me that a monk who practices poverty sets a bad example for the populace, for then they cannot accept monks who do not practice it. And, he added, the preaching of poverty put the wrong ideas into the heads of the people, who would consider their poverty a source of pride, and pride can lead to many proud acts. And, finally, he said that I should know, thanks to some syllogism which was not clear to him, either, that preaching poverty for monks put you on the side of the Emperor, and this did not please the Pope. All excel?lent reasons, they seemed to me, even if expounded by a man of scant206 learning, except that at this point I did not understand why Brother Michael wanted to die so horribly to please the Emperor, or to settle a controver?sy among religious orders. And in fact some of those present were saying, “He is not a saint, he was sent by Louis to stir up discord207 among the citizens, and the Fraticelli are Tuscans but behind them are the Emperor’s agents.” And others said, “He is a madman, he is possessed208 by the Devil, swollen209 with pride, and he enjoys martyrdom for his wicked pride; they make these monks read too many lives of the saints, it would be better for them to take a wife!” And still others added, “No, all Christians should be like him, ready to proclaim their faith, as in the time of the pagans.” As I listened to those voices, no longer knowing what to think myself, it so happened that I looked straight at the condemned man’s face, which at times was hidden by the crowd ahead of me. And I saw the face of a man looking at something that is not of this earth, as I had sometimes seen on statues of saints in ecstatic vision. And I understood that, madman or seer as he might be, he knowingly wanted to die because he believed that in dying he would defeat his enemy, whoever it was. And I understood that his example would lead others to death. And I remain amazed by the possess?ors of such steadfastness only because I do not know, even today, whether what prevails in them is a proud love of the truth they believe, which leads them to death, or a proud desire for death, which leads them to proclaim their truth, whatever it may be. And I am overwhelmed with admiration210 and fear.
But let us go back to the execution, for now all were heading for the place where Michael would be put to death.
The captain and his men brought him out of the gate, with his little skirt on him and some of the buttons undone211, and as he walked with a broad stride and a bowed head, reciting his office, he seemed one of the martyrs. And the crowd was unbelievably large and many cried, “Do not die!” and he would answer, “I want to die for Christ.” “But you are not dying for Christ,” they said to him; and he said, “No, for the truth.” When they came to a place called the Proconsul’s Corner, one man cried to him to pray to God for them all, and he blessed the crowd.
At the Church of the Baptist they shouted to him, “Save your life!” and he answered, “Run for your life from sin!”; at the Old Market they shouted to him, “Live, live!” and he replied, “Save yourselves from hell”; at the New Market they yelled, “Repent, repent,” and he replied, “Repent of your usury212.” And on reaching Santa Croce, he saw the monks of his order on the steps, and he reproached them because they did not follow the Rule of Saint Francis. And some of them shrugged, but others pulled their cowls over their faces to cover them, in shame.
And going toward the Justice Gate, many said to him, “Recant! Recant! Don’t insist on dying,” and he said, “Christ died for us.” And they said, “But you are not Christ, you must not die for us!” And he said, “But I want to die for Him.” At the Field of justice, one said to him he should do as a certain monk, his superior, had done, abjuring213; but Michael answered that he would not abjure214, and I saw many in the crowd, agree and urge Michael to be strong: so I and many others realized those were his followers, and we moved away from them.
Finally we were outside the city and before us the pyre appeared, the “hut,” as they called it there, be?cause the wood was arranged in the form of a hut, and there a circle of armed horsemen formed, to keep people from coming too close. And there they bound Brother Michael to the stake. And again I heard some?one shout to him, “But what is it you’re dying for?” And he answered; “For a truth that dwells in me, which I can proclaim only by death.” They set fire to the wood. And Brother Michael, who had chanted the “Credo,” afterward chanted the “Te Deum.” He sang perhaps eight verses of it, then he bent over as if he had to sneeze, and fell to the ground, because his bonds had burned away. He was already dead: before the body is completely burned it has already died from the great heat, which makes the heart explode, and from the smoke that fills the chest.
Then the hut burned entirely215, like a torch, and there was a great glow, and if it had not been for the poor charred216 body of Michael, still glimpsed among the glowing coals, I would have said I was standing before the burning bush. And I was close enough to have a view (I recalled as I climbed the steps of the library) that made some words rise spontaneously to my lips, about ecstatic rapture; I had read them in the books of Saint Hildegard: “The flame consists of a splendid clarity, of an unusual vigor217, and of an igneous218 ardor219, but possesses the splendid clarity that it may illuminate220 and the igneous ardor that it may burn.”
I remembered some words of Ubertino about love. The image of Michael on the pyre became confused with that of Dolcino, and that of Dolcino with that of the beautiful Margaret. I felt again the restlessness that had seized me in church.
I tried not to think about it and headed straight for the labyrinth221.
This was the first time I entered it alone; the long shadows cast by the lamp on the floor terrified me as much as had the visions the previous night. At every moment I feared I would find myself before another mirror, because the magic of mirrors is such that even when you know they are mirrors they still upset you.
On the other hand, I did not try to orient myself, or to avoid the room with the perfumes that induce visions. I proceeded as if in the grip of a fever, nor did I know where I wanted to go. In fact, I did not move far from my starting point, because a short time later I found myself again in the heptagonal room by which I had entered. Here, on a table, some books were laid out that I did not seem to have seen the night before. I guessed they were works that Malachi had withdrawn223 from the scriptorium and had not yet replaced on their proper shelves. I could not comprehend how far I was from the perfume room, because I felt dazed, which could be the effect of some effluvium that reached even that spot, or else of the things I had been pondering until then. I opened a richly illuminated224 volume that, by its style, seemed to me to come from the monasteries225 of Ultima Thule.
On a page where the holy Gospel of the apostle Mark began, I was struck by the image of a lion. I was certain it was a lion, even though I had never seen one in the flesh, and the artist had reproduced its features faithfully, inspired perhaps by the sight of the lions of Hibernia, land of monstrous226 creatures, and I was convinced that this animal, as for that matter the Physiologus says, concentrates in itself all the characteristics of the things at once most horrible and most regal. So that image suggested to me both the image of the Enemy and that of Christ our Lord, nor did I know by what symbolic227 key I was to read it, and I was trembling all over, out of fear and also because of the wind coming through the fissures in the walls.
The lion I saw had a mouth bristling228 with teeth, and a finely armored head like a serpent’s; the immense body was supported by four paws with sharp, fierce claws, and its coat resembled one of those rugs that later I saw brought from the Orient, with red and emerald scales on which were drawn, yellow as the plague, horrible and sturdy armatures of bone. Also yellow was the tail, which twisted from the rump to the head, ending in a final scroll229 of black and white tufts.
I was already quite awed230 by the lion (and more than once I had looked around as if I expected to see an animal of that description suddenly appear) when I decided to look at other pages and my eye fell, at the opening of the Gospel of Matthew, on the image of a man. I do not know why, but it frightened me more than the lion: the face was a man’s, but this man was sheathed231 in a kind of stiff chasuble that covered him to his feet, and this chasuble, or cuirass, was encrusted with red and yellow semiprecious stones. The head, which emerged enigmatically from a castle of rubies232 and topazes, seemed (how blasphemous233 terror made me!) that of the mysterious murderer whose impalpa?ble trail we were following. And then I realized why I linked the animal and the armored man so closely with the labyrinth: both illustrations, like all in that book, emerged from a pattern of interlocking labyrinths234, whose lines of onyx and emerald, threads of chrysoprase, ribbons of beryl seemed all to refer to the tangle235 of rooms and corridors where I was. My eye became lost, on the page, along gleaming paths, as my feet were becoming lost in the troublous succession of the rooms of the library, and seeing my own wandering depicted237 on those parchments filled me with uneasiness and convinced me that each of those books was telling, through mysterious cachinnations, my present story. “De to fabula narratur,” I said to myself, and I won?dered if those pages did not already contain the story of future events in store for me.
I opened another book, and this seemed of the Hispanic school. The colors were violent, the reds suggested blood or fire. It was the book of Revelation of the apostle, and once again, as the night before, I happened upon the page of the mulier amicta sole. But it was not the same book; the illumination was different. Here the artist had dwelled at greater length on the woman’s form. I compared her face, her bosom238, her curving thighs239 with the statue of the Virgin I had seen with Ubertino. The line was different, but this mulier also seemed very beautiful to me. I thought I should not dwell on these notions, and I turned several more pages. I found another woman, but this time it was the whore of Babylon. I was not so much struck by her form as by the thought that she, too, was a woman like the other, and yet this one was the vessel of every vice9, whereas the other was the receptacle of every virtue240. But the forms were womanly in both cases, and at a certain point I could no longer understand what distin?guished them. Again I felt an inner agitation241; the image of the Virgin in the church became superim?posed on that of the beautiful Margaret. “I am damned!” I said to myself. Or, “I am mad.” And I decided I should leave the library.
Luckily I was near the staircase. I rushed down, at the risk of stumbling and extinguishing the lamp. I found myself again under the broad vaults242 of the scriptorium, but I did not linger even there, and hurled243 myself down the stairs leading to the refectory.
Here I paused, gasping244. The light of the moon came through the windows, very radiant, and I hardly needed the lamp, which would have been indispensable for cells and for passages of the library. Nevertheless, I kept it burning, as if to seek comfort. But I was still breathless, and I decided I should drink some water to calm my tension. Since the kitchen was near, I crossed the refectory and slowly opened one of the doors that led into the second half of the ground floor of the Aedificium.
And at this point my terror, instead of lessening245, increased. Because I immediately realized someone else was in the kitchen, near the bread oven—or at least I realized a light was shining in that corner. Filled with fear, I blew mine out. Frightened as I was, I instilled246 fright, and in fact the other person (or persons) imme?diately put out their light, too. But in vain, because the moonlight illuminated the kitchen sufficiently247 to cast before me one or more confused shadows on the floor.
Frozen, I did not dare draw back, or advance. I heard a stammering248 sound, and I thought I heard, softly, a woman’s voice. Then from the shapeless group that could be discerned vaguely249 near the oven, a dark, squat250 form broke away and fled toward the outside door, evidently left ajar, closing it after himself.
I remained, on the threshold between refectory and kitchen, and so did a vague something near the oven. A vague and—how to say it?—moaning something. From the shadows, in fact, came a groan, a kind of subdued251 weeping, rhythmic252 sobs253 of fear.
Nothing gives a fearful man more courage than another’s fear, but it was not fear that impelled254 me toward the shadow. Rather, I would say, I was driven by an intoxication255 not unlike the one that had gripped me when I was having visions. In the kitchen there was something kin4 to the fumes222 that had overcome me in the library the night before. It was perhaps not the same substance, but on my overexcited senses it had the same effect. I sniffed256 a pungent257 smell of traganth, alum, and tartar, which cooks use to make wine aromatic258. Or perhaps, as I learned later, in those days they were brewing259 beer (which in that northern part of the penin?sula was held in some esteem), and it was prepared with the method of my country, with heather, swamp myrtle, and wild rosemary. All spices that intoxicate260 more than my nostrils261, my mind.
And while my rational instinct was to cry out “Vade retro!” and get away from the moaning thing that was certainly a succubus summoned for me by the Evil One, something in my vis appetitiva urged me forward, as if I wanted to take part to some marvel262.
And so I approached the shadow, until, in the moon?light that fell from the high windows, I realized that it was a woman, trembling, clutching to her breast one hand holding a package, and drawing back, weeping, toward the mouth of the oven.
May God, the Blessed Virgin, and all the saints of paradise assist me in telling what then happened. Modesty263, the dignity of my position (as an aged264 monk by now, in this handsome monastery265 of Melk, a haven266 of peace and serene267 meditation), would counsel me to take the most devout precautions. I should simply say that some?thing evil took place and that it would not be meet to tell what it was, and so I would upset neither my reader nor myself.
But I have determined268 to tell, of those remote events, the whole truth, and truth is indivisible, it shines with its own transparency and does not allow itself to be diminished by our interests or our shame. The prob?lem is, rather, of telling what happened not as I see it now and remember it (even if I still remember every?thing with pitiless vividness, nor do I know whether my subsequent repentance269 has so fixed270 in my memory these situations and thoughts, or whether the inadequacy271 of that same repentance still torments me, resuscitating272 in my oppressed mind the smallest details of my shame), but as I saw it and felt it then. And I can do so with the fidelity273 of a chronicler, for if I close my eyes I can repeat not only everything I did but also what I thought in those moments, as if I were copying a parchment written at the time. I must therefore proceed in this way, Saint Michael Archangel protect me, because for the edification of future readers and the flaying274 of my guilt30 I want now to tell how a young man can succumb275 to the snares277 of the Devil, that they may be known and evident, so anyone encountering them in the future may defeat them.
So, it was a woman. Or, rather, a girl. Having had until then (and since then, God be thanked) little intima?cy with creatures of that sex, I cannot say what her age may have been. I know she was young, almost adolescent, perhaps she had passed sixteen or eighteen springs, or perhaps twenty; and I was struck by the impression of human reality that emanated278 from that form. It was not a vision, and in any case it seemed to me valde bona. Perhaps because she was trembling like a little bird in winter, and was weeping, and was afraid of me.
Thinking that the duty of every good Christian44 is to succor279 his neighbor, I approached her with great gen?tleness and in good Latin told her she should not fear, because I was a friend, in any case not an enemy, certainly not the enemy she perhaps dreaded280.
Because of the meekness281 of my gaze, I imagine, the creature grew calm and came to me. I sensed that she did not understand my Latin and instinctively282 I addressed her in my German vernacular283, and this frightened her greatly, whether because of the harsh sounds, unfamil?iar to the people of those parts, or because those sounds reminded her of some other experience with soldiers from my lands, I cannot say which. Then I smiled, considering that the language of gestures and of the face is more universal than that of words, and she was reassured284. She smiled at me, too, and said a few words.
I knew her vernacular very slightly; it was different from the bit I had learned in Pisa, but I realized from her tone that she was saying sweet words to me, and she seemed to be saying something like “You are young, you are handsome. ...” It is rare for a novice who has spent his whole childhood in a monastery to hear declarations of his beauty; indeed, we are regularly admonished285 that physical beauty is fleeting286 and must be considered base. But the snares of the Enemy are infinite, and I confess that this reference to my comeliness287, though mendacious288, fell sweetly on my ears and filled me with an irrepressible emotion. Especially since the girl, in saying this, had extended her hand until the tips of her fingers grazed my cheek, then quite beardless. I felt a kind of delirium289, but at that moment I was unable to sense any hint of sin in my heart. Such is the force of the Devil when he wants to try us and dispel290 from our spirit the signs of grace.
What did I feel? What did I see? I remember only that the emotions of the first moment were bereft291 of any expression, because my tongue and my mind had not been instructed in how to name sensations of that sort. Until I recalled other inner words, heard in an?other time and in other places, spoken certainly for other ends, but which seemed wondrously292 in keeping with my joy in that moment, as if they had been born consubstantially to express it. Words pressed into the caverns293 of my memory rose to the (dumb) surface of my lips, and I forgot that they had served in Scripture or in the pages of the saints to express quite different, more radiant realities. But was there truly a difference between the delights of which the saints had spoken and those that my agitated294 spirit was feeling at that moment? At that moment the watchful295 sense of differ?ence was annihilated297 in me. And this, it seems to me, is precisely298 the sign of rapture in the abysses of identity.
Suddenly the girl appeared to me as the black but comely299 virgin of whom the Song of Songs speaks. She wore a threadbare little dress of rough cloth that opened in a fairly immodest fashion over her bosom, and around her neck was a necklace made of little colored stones, very commonplace, I believe. But her head rose proudly on a neck as white as an ivory tower, her eyes were clear as the pools of Heshbon, her nose was as the tower of Lebanon, her hair like purple. Yes, her tresses seemed to me like a flock of goats, her teeth like flocks of sheep coming up from their bath, all in pairs, so that none preceded its companion. And I could not help murmuring: “Behold300, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair. Thy hair is as a flock of goats that lie along the side of Mount Gilead; thy lips are like a thread of scarlet301, thy temples are like a piece of a pomegranate, thy neck is like the tower of David whereon there hang a thousand bucklers.” And I asked myself, frightened and rapt, who was she who rose before me like the dawn, beautiful as the moon, radiant as the sun, terribilis ut castorum acies ordinata.
Then the creature came still closer to me, throwing into a corner the dark package she had till then held pressed to her bosom; and she raised her hand to stroke my face, and repeated the words I had already heard. And while I did not know whether to flee from her or move even closer, while my head was throbbing302 as if the trumpets303 of Joshua were about to bring down the walls of Jericho, as I yearned304 and at once feared to touch her, she smiled with great joy, emitted the stifled305 moan of a pleased she-goat, and undid306 the strings307 that closed her dress over her bosom, slipped the dress from her body like a tunic, and stood before me as Eve must have appeared to Adam in the garden of Eden. “Pulchra sunt ubera quae paululum supereminent et tument modice,” I murmured, repeating the words I had heard from Ubertino, because her breasts appeared to me like two fawns308 that are twins of a roe309, feeding among the lilies, her navel was a goblet310 wherein no mingled311 wine is wanting, her belly312 a heap of wheat set about with lilies.
“O sidus clarum pellarum,” I cried to her, “o porta clausa, forts hortorum, cella custos unguentorum, cella pigmentaria!” Inadvertently I found myself against her body, feeling its warmth and the sharp perfume of unguents never known before. I remembered, “Sons, when mad love comes, man is powerless!” and I under?stood that, whether what I felt was a snare276 of the Enemy or a gift of heaven, I was now powerless against the impulse that moved me, and I cried, “Oh langueo,” and, “Causam languoris video nec caveo!,” also because a rosy313 perfume breathed from her lips and her feet were beautiful in sandals, and her legs were like col?umns and jewels were the joints314 of her thighs, the work of the hands of a cunning workman. O love, daughter of delights, a king is held captive in your tresses, I murmured to myself, and I was in her arms, and we fell together onto the bare floor of the kitchen, and, wheth?er on my own initiative or through her wiles315, I found myself free of my novice’s habit and we felt no shame at our bodies and cuncta erant bona.
And she kissed me with the kisses of her mouth, and her loves were more delicious than wine and her oint?ments had a goodly fragrance316, and her neck was beauti?ful among pearls and her cheeks among earrings317, be?hold thou art fair, my beloved, behold thou art fair; thine eyes are as doves (I said), and let me see thy face, let me hear thy voice, for thy voice is harmonious318 and thy face enchanting319, thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, with one chain of thy neck, thy lips drop as the honeycomb, honey and milk are under thy tongue, the smell of thy breath is of apples, thy two breasts are clusters of grapes, thy palate a heady wine that goes straight to my love and mows320 over my lips and teeth. ... A fountain sealed, spikenard and saffron, calamus and cinnamon, myrrh and aloes, I have eaten my honey?comb with my honey, I have drunk my wine with my milk. Who was she, who was she who rose like the dawn, fair as the moon, clear as the sun, terrible as an army with banners?
O Lord, when the soul is transported, the only virtue lies in loving what you see (is that not true?), the supreme happiness in having what you have; there blissful life is drunk at its source (has this not been said?), there you savor321 the true life that we will live after this mortal life among the angels for all eternity322. ... This is what I was thinking and it seemed to me the prophecies were being fulfilled at last, as the girl lavished323 indescribable sweetness on me, and it was as if my whole body were an eye, before and behind, and I could suddenly see all surrounding things. And I un?derstood that from it, from love, unity47 and tenderness are created together, as are good and kiss and fulfillment, as I had already heard, believing I was being told about something else. And only for an instant, as my joy was about to reach its zenith, did I remember that perhaps I was experiencing, and at night, the possession of the noontime Devil, who was condemned finally to reveal himself in his true, diabolical nature to the soul that in ecstasy324 asks “Who are you?,” who knows how to grip the soul and delude75 the body. But I was immediately convinced that my scruples325 were indeed devilish, for nothing could be more right and good and holy than what I was experiencing, the sweetness of which grew with every moment. As a little drop of water added to a quantity of wine is completely dispersed326 and takes on the color and taste of wine, as red-hot iron becomes like molten fire losing its original form, as air when it is inundated327 with the sun’s light is transformed into total splendor328 and clarity so that it no longer seems illuminat?ed but, rather, seems to be light itself, so I felt myself die of tender liquefaction, and I had only the strength left to murmur201 the words of the psalm329: “Behold my bosom is like new wine, sealed, which bursts new vessels,” and suddenly I saw a brilliant light and in it a saffron?-colored form which flamed up in a sweet and shining fire, and that splendid light spread through all the shining fire, and this shining fire through that golden form and that brilliant light and that shining fire through the whole form.
As, half fainting, I fell on the body to which I had joined myself, I understood in a last vital spurt330 that flame consists of a splendid clarity, an unusual vigor, and an igneous ardor, but it possesses the splendid clarity so that it may illuminate and the igneous ardor that it may burn. Then I understood the abyss, and the deeper abysses that it conjured331 up.
Now that, with a hand that trembles (either in horror at the sin I am recounting or in guilty nostalgia332 of the event I recall), I write these lines, I realize that to describe my wicked ecstasy of that instant I have used the same words that I used, not many pages before, to describe the fire that burned the martyred body of the Fraticello Michael. Nor is it an accident that my hand, passive agent of the soul, has penned the same expres?sion for two experiences so disparate, because probably I experienced them in the same way both at the time, when I lived through them, and now, as I have tried to bring them back to life on this parchment.
There is a mysterious wisdom by which phenomena333 among themselves disparate can be called by analogous334 names, just as divine things can be designated by terres?trial terms, and through equivocal symbols God can be called lion or leopard335; and death can be called sword; joy, flame; flame, death; death, abyss; abyss, perdition; perdition, raving; and raving, passion.
Why did 1, as a youth, depict236 the ecstasy of death that had impressed me in the martyr176 Michael in the words the saint had used for the ecstasy of (divine) life, and yet I could not refrain from depicting336 in the same words the ecstasy (culpable and fleeting) of earthly pleasure, which immediately afterward had spontaneously appeared to me as a sensation of death and annihilation? I shall try now to reflect both on the way I felt, a few months apart, two experiences at once uplifting and painful, and on the way in which that night in the abbey I consciously remembered the one and felt with my senses the other, a few hours apart, and, further, on the way I have relived them now, penning these lines, and on how in all three instances I recited them to myself with the words of the different experience of that sainted soul annihilated in the divine vision. Have I perhaps blasphemed (then? now?)? What was similar in Michael’s desire for death, in the transport I felt at the sight of the flame consuming him, in the desire for carnal union I felt with the girl, in the mystic shame with which I translated it allegorically, and in the desire for joyous168 annihilation that moved the saint to die in his own love in order to live longer and eternally? Is it possible that things so equivocal can be said in such a univocal way? And this, it seems, is the teaching left us by Saint Thomas, the greatest of all doctors: the more openly it remains a figure of speech, the more it is a dissimilar similitude and not literal, the more a meta?phor reveals its truth. But if love of the flame and of the abyss are the metaphor337 for the love of God, can they be the metaphor for love of death and love of sin? Yes, as the lion and the serpent stand both for Christ and the Devil. The fact is that correct interpretation338 can be established only on the authority of the fathers, and in the case that torments me, I have no auctoritas to which my obedient mind can refer, and I burn in doubt (and again the image of fire appears to define the void of the truth and the fullness of the error that annihilate296 me!). What is happening, O Lord, in my spirit, now that I allow myself to be gripped by the vortex of memories and I conflagrate different times at once, as if I were to manipulate the order of the stars and the sequence of their celestial movements? Certain?ly I am overstepping the boundaries of my sinful and sick intelligence. Now, let us return to the task I had humbly set myself. I was telling about that day and the total bewilderment of the senses into which I sank. There, I have told what I remembered on that occasion, and let my feeble pen, faithful and truthful339 chronicler, stop there.
I lay, how long I do not know, the girl at my side. With a light motion her hand continued to touch my body, now damp with sweat. I felt an inner exultation, which was not peace, but like the last subdued flicker340 of a fire taking time to die beneath the embers, when the flame is already dead. I would not hesitate to call blessed a man to whom it was granted to experience something similar in this life (I murmured as if in my sleep), even rarely (and, in fact, I experienced it only that time), and very rapidly, for the space of a single moment. As if one no longer existed, not feeling one’s identity at all, or feeling lowered, almost annihilated: if some mortal (I said to myself) could for a single mo?ment and most rapidly enjoy what I have enjoyed, he would immediately look with a baleful eye at this per?verse world, would be upset by the bane of daily life, would feel the weight of the body of death. ... Was this not what I had been taught? That invitation of my whole spirit to lose all memory in bliss41 was surely (now I understood it) the radiance of the eternal sun; and the joy that it produces opens, extends, enlarges man, and the gaping chasm341 man bears within himself is no longer sealed so easily, for it is the wound cut by the blow of love’s sword, nor is there anything else here below more sweet and terrible. But such is the right of the sun: it riddles342 the wounded man with its rays and all the wounds widen, the man uncloses and extends, his very veins343 are laid open, his strength is now incapa?ble of obeying the orders it receives and is moved solely344 by desire, the spirit burns, sunk into the abyss of what it is now touching345, seeing its own desire and its own truth outstripped346 by the reality it has lived and is living. And one witnesses, dumbfounded, one’s own raving.
And in the grip of these sensations of ineffable347 inner joy, I dozed348 off.
I reopened my eyes some time later, and the moonlight, perhaps because of a cloud, had grown much fainter. I stretched out my hand at my side and no longer felt the girl’s body. I turned my head; she was gone.
The absence of the object that had unleashed349 my desire and slaked350 my thirst made me realize suddenly both the vanity of that desire and the perversity351 of that thirst. Omne animal triste post coitum. I became aware that I had sinned. Now, after years and years, while I still bitterly bemoan352 my error, I cannot forget how that evening I had felt great pleasure, and I would be doing a wrong to the Almighty353, who created all things in goodness and beauty, if I did not admit that also between those two sinners something happened that in itself, naturaliter, was good and beautiful. But perhaps it is my present old age, which makes me feel, culpably354, how beautiful and good all my youth was just when I should turn my thoughts to death, which is approaching. Then, a young man, I did not think of death, but, hotly and sincerely, I wept for my sin.
I stood up, trembling, also because I had lain a long time on the cold stones of the kitchen and my body was numb355. I dressed, almost feverish356. I glimpsed then in a corner the package that the girl had abandoned in her flight. I bent to examine the object: it was a kind of bundle, a rolled-up cloth that seemed to come from the kitchen. I unwrapped it, and at first I did not under?stand what was inside, both because of the scant light and because of the shapeless shape of the contents. Then I understood. Among clots357 of blood and scraps358 of flabbier and whitish meat, before my eyes, dead but still throbbing with the gelatinous life of dead viscera, lined by livid nerves: a heart, of great size.
A dark veil descended359 over my eyes, an acid saliva360 rose in my mouth, I let out a cry and fell as a dead body falls.
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1
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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con
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| n.反对的观点，反对者，反对票，肺病；vt.精读，学习，默记；adv.反对地，从反面；adj.欺诈的 | |
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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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8
novice
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| adj.新手的，生手的 | |
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vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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monk
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| n.和尚，僧侣，修道士 | |
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tare
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| n.皮重；v.量皮重 | |
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heresy
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| n.异端邪说；异教 | |
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derive
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| v.取得；导出；引申；来自；源自；出自 | |
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14
penance
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| n.（赎罪的）惩罪 | |
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pro
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| n.赞成，赞成的意见，赞成者 | |
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slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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18
exhorting
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| v.劝告，劝说( exhort的现在分词 ) | |
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penitence
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| n.忏悔，赎罪；悔过 | |
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enjoined
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| v.命令( enjoin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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enjoin
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| v.命令；吩咐；禁止 | |
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disciples
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| n.信徒( disciple的名词复数 )；门徒；耶稣的信徒；（尤指）耶稣十二门徒之一 | |
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23
sect
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| n.派别，宗教，学派，派系 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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follower
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| n.跟随者；随员；门徒；信徒 | |
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followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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28
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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29
erred
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| 犯错误，做错事( err的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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32
magistrates
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| 地方法官，治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
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harangue
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| n.慷慨冗长的训话，言辞激烈的讲话 | |
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34
scatter
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| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
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35
rogues
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| n.流氓( rogue的名词复数 )；无赖；调皮捣蛋的人；离群的野兽 | |
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36
dicing
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| n.掷骰子，（皮革上的）菱形装饰v.将…切成小方块，切成丁（ dice的现在分词 ） | |
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37
ravens
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| n.低质煤；渡鸦( raven的名词复数 ) | |
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38
hawks
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| 鹰( hawk的名词复数 )； 鹰派人物，主战派人物 | |
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39
virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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40
disapproved
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| v.不赞成( disapprove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
bliss
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| n.狂喜，福佑，天赐的福 | |
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42
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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44
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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45
Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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46
impunity
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| n.(惩罚、损失、伤害等的)免除 | |
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unity
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| n.团结，联合，统一；和睦，协调 | |
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48
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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49
brawl
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| n.大声争吵，喧嚷；v.吵架，对骂 | |
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50
guilds
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| 行会，同业公会，协会( guild的名词复数 ) | |
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51
garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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52
devout
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| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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53
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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54
doctrine
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| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
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55
renewal
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| adj.(契约)延期，续订，更新，复活，重来 | |
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56
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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57
follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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58
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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59
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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60
wed
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| v.娶，嫁，与…结婚 | |
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61
vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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62
subtleties
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| 细微( subtlety的名词复数 )； 精细； 巧妙； 细微的差别等 | |
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63
insidious
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| adj.阴险的，隐匿的，暗中为害的，（疾病）不知不觉之间加剧 | |
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64
buffoon
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| n.演出时的丑角 | |
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65
craftsmen
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| n. 技工 | |
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66
bastard
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| n.坏蛋，混蛋；私生子 | |
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67
eastward
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| adv.向东；adj.向东的；n.东方，东部 | |
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68
vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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69
monks
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| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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70
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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71
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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72
seduced
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| 诱奸( seduce的过去式和过去分词 )； 勾引； 诱使堕落； 使入迷 | |
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73
penetrates
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| v.穿过( penetrate的第三人称单数 )；刺入；了解；渗透 | |
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74
deluded
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| v.欺骗，哄骗( delude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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75
delude
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| vt.欺骗；哄骗 | |
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76
vassals
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| n.奴仆( vassal的名词复数 )；（封建时代）诸侯；从属者；下属 | |
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77
outlaws
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| 歹徒，亡命之徒( outlaw的名词复数 )； 逃犯 | |
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78
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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79
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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80
tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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81
disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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82
feudal
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| adj.封建的，封地的，领地的 | |
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83
faction
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| n.宗派，小集团；派别；派系斗争 | |
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84
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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85
shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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86
promiscuity
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| n.混杂，混乱；（男女的）乱交 | |
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87
expounded
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| 论述，详细讲解( expound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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88
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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89
testaments
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| n.遗嘱( testament的名词复数 )；实际的证明 | |
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90
testament
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| n.遗嘱；证明 | |
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91
secular
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| n.牧师，凡人；adj.世俗的，现世的，不朽的 | |
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92
absolve
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| v.赦免，解除（责任等） | |
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93
absolved
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| 宣告…无罪，赦免…的罪行，宽恕…的罪行( absolve的过去式和过去分词 )； 不受责难，免除责任 [义务] ,开脱（罪责） | |
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94
epoch
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| n.(新)时代；历元 | |
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95
precepts
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| n.规诫，戒律，箴言( precept的名词复数 ) | |
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96
derived
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| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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97
perfidious
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| adj.不忠的，背信弃义的 | |
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98
syllogism
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| n.演绎法，三段论法 | |
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99
corruption
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| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
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100
clergy
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| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
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101
nuns
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| n.（通常指基督教的）修女， （佛教的）尼姑( nun的名词复数 ) | |
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102
hermits
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| （尤指早期基督教的）隐居修道士，隐士，遁世者( hermit的名词复数 ) | |
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103
exterminated
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| v.消灭，根绝( exterminate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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104
cardinals
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| 红衣主教( cardinal的名词复数 )； 红衣凤头鸟（见于北美，雄鸟为鲜红色）； 基数 | |
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105
enactment
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| n.演出，担任…角色；制订，通过 | |
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106
purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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107
fervently
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| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
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108
transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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109
contradictory
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| adj.反驳的，反对的，抗辩的；n.正反对，矛盾对立 | |
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110
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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111
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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112
raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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113
fissures
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| n.狭长裂缝或裂隙( fissure的名词复数 )；裂伤；分歧；分裂v.裂开( fissure的第三人称单数 ) | |
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114
consummated
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| v.使结束( consummate的过去式和过去分词 )；使完美；完婚；（婚礼后的）圆房 | |
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115
clement
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| adj.仁慈的；温和的 | |
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116
annul
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| v.宣告…无效，取消，废止 | |
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117
tithes
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| n.（宗教捐税）什一税，什一的教区税，小部分( tithe的名词复数 ) | |
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118
vows
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| 誓言( vow的名词复数 )； 郑重宣布，许愿 | |
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119
consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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120
procure
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| vt.获得，取得，促成；vi.拉皮条 | |
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121
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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122
otter
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| n.水獭 | |
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123
foment
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| v.煽动，助长 | |
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124
entrenched
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| adj.确立的，不容易改的(风俗习惯) | |
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125
fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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126
massacres
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| 大屠杀( massacre的名词复数 )； 惨败 | |
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127
impenitent
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| adj.不悔悟的，顽固的 | |
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128
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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129
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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130
sublimated
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| v.（使某物质）升华( sublimate的过去式和过去分词 )；使净化；纯化 | |
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131
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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132
gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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133
vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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134
sculptor
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| n.雕刻家，雕刻家 | |
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135
portrayed
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| v.画像( portray的过去式和过去分词 )；描述；描绘；描画 | |
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136
adorn
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| vt.使美化，装饰 | |
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137
bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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138
protrude
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| v.使突出，伸出，突出 | |
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139
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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140
licentiously
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| adv.licentious（放荡的）的变形 | |
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141
depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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142
binds
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| v.约束( bind的第三人称单数 )；装订；捆绑；（用长布条）缠绕 | |
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143
subdue
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| vt.制服，使顺从，征服；抑制，克制 | |
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144
plunges
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| n.跳进，投入vt.使投入，使插入，使陷入vi.投入，跳进，陷入v.颠簸( plunge的第三人称单数 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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145
promiscuous
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| adj.杂乱的，随便的 | |
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146
lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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147
shun
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| vt.避开，回避，避免 | |
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148
blindfolded
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| v.（尤指用布）挡住（某人）的视线( blindfold的过去式 )；蒙住（某人）的眼睛；使不理解；蒙骗 | |
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149
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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150
gallows
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| n.绞刑架，绞台 | |
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151
perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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152
choir
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| n.唱诗班，唱诗班的席位，合唱团，舞蹈团；v.合唱 | |
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153
gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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154
prostrated
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| v.使俯伏，使拜倒( prostrate的过去式和过去分词 )；（指疾病、天气等）使某人无能为力 | |
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155
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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156
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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157
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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158
celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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159
diabolical
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| adj.恶魔似的，凶暴的 | |
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160
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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161
inflamed
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| adj.发炎的，红肿的v.（使）变红，发怒，过热( inflame的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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162
exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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163
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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164
horrendous
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| adj.可怕的，令人惊惧的 | |
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165
incarcerated
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| 钳闭的 | |
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166
contagion
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| n.(通过接触的疾病)传染；蔓延 | |
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167
joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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168
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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169
wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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170
militia
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| n.民兵，民兵组织 | |
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171
torments
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| （肉体或精神上的）折磨，痛苦( torment的名词复数 )； 造成痛苦的事物[人] | |
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172
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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173
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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174
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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175
steadfastness
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| n.坚定，稳当 | |
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176
martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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177
martyrs
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| n.martyr的复数形式；烈士( martyr的名词复数 )；殉道者；殉教者；乞怜者（向人诉苦以博取同情） | |
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178
arrogance
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| n.傲慢，自大 | |
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179
erase
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| v.擦掉；消除某事物的痕迹 | |
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180
recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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181
pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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182
propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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183
dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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184
hoisted
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| 把…吊起，升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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185
notary
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| n.公证人，公证员 | |
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186
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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187
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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188
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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189
scripture
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| n.经文，圣书，手稿；Scripture:(常用复数)《圣经》，《圣经》中的一段 | |
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190
scriptures
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| 经文，圣典( scripture的名词复数 )； 经典 | |
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191
assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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192
faltering
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| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
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193
tenacious
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| adj.顽强的，固执的，记忆力强的，粘的 | |
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194
retract
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| vt.缩回，撤回收回，取消 | |
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195
professing
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| 声称( profess的现在分词 )； 宣称； 公开表明； 信奉 | |
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196
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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197
fervor
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| n.热诚；热心；炽热 | |
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198
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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199
benediction
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| n.祝福；恩赐 | |
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200
repent
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| v.悔悟，悔改，忏悔，后悔 | |
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201
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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202
corrupted
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| （使）败坏( corrupt的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）腐化； 引起（计算机文件等的）错误； 破坏 | |
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203
subtlety
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| n.微妙，敏锐，精巧；微妙之处，细微的区别 | |
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204
persecution
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| n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
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205
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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206
scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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207
discord
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| n.不和，意见不合，争论，（音乐）不和谐 | |
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208
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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209
swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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210
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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211
undone
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| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
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212
usury
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| n.高利贷 | |
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213
abjuring
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| v.发誓放弃( abjure的现在分词 )；郑重放弃（意见）；宣布撤回（声明等）；避免 | |
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214
abjure
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| v.发誓放弃 | |
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215
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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216
charred
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| v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式)；烧焦 | |
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217
vigor
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| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
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218
igneous
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| adj.火的，火绒的 | |
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219
ardor
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| n.热情，狂热 | |
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220
illuminate
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| vt.照亮，照明；用灯光装饰；说明，阐释 | |
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221
labyrinth
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| n.迷宫；难解的事物；迷路 | |
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222
fumes
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| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
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223
withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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224
illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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225
monasteries
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| 修道院( monastery的名词复数 ) | |
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226
monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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227
symbolic
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| adj.象征性的，符号的，象征主义的 | |
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228
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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229
scroll
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| n.卷轴，纸卷；(石刻上的)漩涡 | |
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230
awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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231
sheathed
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| adj.雕塑像下半身包在鞘中的；覆盖的；铠装的；装鞘了的v.将（刀、剑等）插入鞘( sheathe的过去式和过去分词 )；包，覆盖 | |
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232
rubies
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| 红宝石( ruby的名词复数 )； 红宝石色，深红色 | |
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233
blasphemous
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| adj.亵渎神明的，不敬神的 | |
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234
labyrinths
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| 迷宫( labyrinth的名词复数 )； （文字，建筑）错综复杂的 | |
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235
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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236
depict
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| vt.描画，描绘；描写，描述 | |
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237
depicted
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| 描绘，描画( depict的过去式和过去分词 )； 描述 | |
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238
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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239
thighs
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| n.股，大腿( thigh的名词复数 )；食用的鸡（等的）腿 | |
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240
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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241
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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242
vaults
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| n.拱顶( vault的名词复数 )；地下室；撑物跳高；墓穴 | |
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243
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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244
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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245
lessening
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| 减轻，减少，变小 | |
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246
instilled
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| v.逐渐使某人获得（某种可取的品质），逐步灌输( instill的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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247
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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248
stammering
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的现在分词 ) | |
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249
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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250
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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251
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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252
rhythmic
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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253
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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254
impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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255
intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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256
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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257
pungent
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| adj.（气味、味道）刺激性的，辛辣的；尖锐的 | |
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258
aromatic
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|
| adj.芳香的，有香味的 | |
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259
brewing
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| n. 酿造, 一次酿造的量 动词brew的现在分词形式 | |
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260
intoxicate
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| vt.使喝醉，使陶醉，使欣喜若狂 | |
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261
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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262
marvel
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|
| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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263
modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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264
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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265
monastery
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| n.修道院，僧院，寺院 | |
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266
haven
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| n.安全的地方，避难所，庇护所 | |
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267
serene
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|
| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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268
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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269
repentance
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| n.懊悔 | |
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270
fixed
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|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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271
inadequacy
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| n.无法胜任，信心不足 | |
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272
resuscitating
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| v.使（某人或某物）恢复知觉，苏醒( resuscitate的现在分词 ) | |
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273
fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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274
flaying
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| v.痛打( flay的现在分词 )；把…打得皮开肉绽；剥（通常指动物）的皮；严厉批评 | |
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275
succumb
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| v.屈服，屈从；死 | |
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276
snare
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| n.陷阱，诱惑，圈套；（去除息肉或者肿瘤的）勒除器；响弦，小军鼓；vt.以陷阱捕获，诱惑 | |
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277
snares
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| n.陷阱( snare的名词复数 )；圈套；诱人遭受失败（丢脸、损失等）的东西；诱惑物v.用罗网捕捉，诱陷，陷害( snare的第三人称单数 ) | |
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278
emanated
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|
| v.从…处传出，传出( emanate的过去式和过去分词 )；产生，表现，显示 | |
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279
succor
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| n.援助，帮助；v.给予帮助 | |
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280
dreaded
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|
| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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281
meekness
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|
| n.温顺，柔和 | |
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282
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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283
vernacular
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|
| adj.地方的，用地方语写成的；n.白话；行话；本国语；动植物的俗名 | |
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284
reassured
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|
| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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285
admonished
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|
| v.劝告( admonish的过去式和过去分词 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责 | |
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286
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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287
comeliness
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| n. 清秀, 美丽, 合宜 | |
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288
mendacious
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| adj.不真的，撒谎的 | |
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289
delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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290
dispel
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| vt.驱走，驱散，消除 | |
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291
bereft
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| adj.被剥夺的 | |
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292
wondrously
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| adv.惊奇地，非常，极其 | |
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293
caverns
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| 大山洞，大洞穴( cavern的名词复数 ) | |
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294
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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295
watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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296
annihilate
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| v.使无效；毁灭；取消 | |
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297
annihilated
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| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的过去式和过去分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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298
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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299
comely
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| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
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300
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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301
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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302
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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303
trumpets
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| 喇叭( trumpet的名词复数 )； 小号； 喇叭形物； （尤指）绽开的水仙花 | |
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304
yearned
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| 渴望，切盼，向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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305
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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306
Undid
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| v. 解开, 复原 | |
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307
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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308
fawns
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| n.（未满一岁的）幼鹿( fawn的名词复数 )；浅黄褐色；乞怜者；奉承者v.（尤指狗等）跳过来往人身上蹭以示亲热( fawn的第三人称单数 )；巴结；讨好 | |
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309
roe
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| n.鱼卵；獐鹿 | |
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310
goblet
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| n.高脚酒杯 | |
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311
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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312
belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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313
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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314
joints
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| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
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315
wiles
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| n.（旨在欺骗或吸引人的）诡计，花招；欺骗，欺诈( wile的名词复数 ) | |
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316
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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317
earrings
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| n.耳环( earring的名词复数 )；耳坠子 | |
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318
harmonious
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|
| adj.和睦的，调和的，和谐的，协调的 | |
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319
enchanting
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| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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320
mows
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| v.刈，割( mow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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321
savor
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| vt.品尝，欣赏；n.味道，风味；情趣，趣味 | |
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322
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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323
lavished
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| v.过分给予，滥施( lavish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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324
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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325
scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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326
dispersed
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|
| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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327
inundated
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| v.淹没( inundate的过去式和过去分词 )；（洪水般地）涌来；充满；给予或交予（太多事物）使难以应付 | |
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328
splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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329
psalm
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| n.赞美诗，圣诗 | |
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330
spurt
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| v.喷出；突然进发；突然兴隆 | |
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331
conjured
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| 用魔术变出( conjure的过去式和过去分词 )； 祈求，恳求； 变戏法； （变魔术般地） 使…出现 | |
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332
nostalgia
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| n.怀乡病，留恋过去，怀旧 | |
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333
phenomena
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| n.现象 | |
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334
analogous
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| adj.相似的；类似的 | |
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335
leopard
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| n.豹 | |
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336
depicting
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| 描绘，描画( depict的现在分词 )； 描述 | |
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337
metaphor
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| n.隐喻，暗喻 | |
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338
interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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339
truthful
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| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
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340
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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341
chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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342
riddles
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| n.谜（语）( riddle的名词复数 )；猜不透的难题，难解之谜 | |
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343
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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344
solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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345
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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346
outstripped
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| v.做得比…更好，（在赛跑等中）超过( outstrip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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347
ineffable
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| adj.无法表达的，不可言喻的 | |
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348
dozed
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| v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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349
unleashed
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| v.把（感情、力量等）释放出来，发泄( unleash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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350
slaked
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| v.满足( slake的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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351
perversity
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| n.任性；刚愎自用 | |
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352
bemoan
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| v.悲叹，哀泣，痛哭；惋惜，不满于 | |
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353
almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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354
culpably
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| adv.该罚地，可恶地 | |
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355
numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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356
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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357
clots
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| n.凝块( clot的名词复数 )；血块；蠢人；傻瓜v.凝固( clot的第三人称单数 ) | |
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358
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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359
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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360
saliva
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| n.唾液，口水 | |
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