SEVENTH DAY
NIGHT
In which, if it were to summarize the prodigious1 revelations of which it speaks, the title would have to be as long as the chapter itself, contrary to usage.
We found ourselves on the threshold of a room simi?lar in shape to the other three heptagonal blind rooms, dominated by a strong musty odor, as of mildewed4 books. The lamp, which I held up high, first illuminat?ed the vault5; then, as I moved my arm downward, to right and left, the flame cast a vague light on the distant shelves along the walls. Finally, in the center, we saw a table covered with papers, and behind the table a seated figure, who seemed to be waiting for us in the darkness, immobile, if he was still alive. Even before the light revealed his face, William spoke7.
“Happy night, venerable Jorge,” he said. “Were you waiting for us?”
The lamp now, once we had taken a few steps forward, illuminated8 the face of the old man, looking at us as if he could see.
“Is that you, William of Baskerville?” he asked. “I have been waiting for you since this afternoon before vespers, when I came and closed myself in here. I knew you would arrive.”
“And the abbot?” William asked. “Is he the one making that noise in the secret stairway?”
Jorge hesitated for a moment. “Is he still alive?” he asked. “I thought he would already have suffocated9.”
“Before we start talking,” William said, “I would like to save him. You can open from this side.”
“No,” Jorge said wearily, “not any longer. The mecha?nism is controlled from below, by pressing on the plaque10, and up here a lever snaps, which opens a door back there, behind that case.” He nodded over his shoulder. “Next to the case you could see a wheel with some counterweights, which controls the mechanism11 from up here. But when I heard the wheel turning, a sign that Abo had entered down below, I yanked at the rope that holds the weights, and the rope broke. Now the passage is closed on both sides, and you could never repair that device. The abbot is dead.”
“Why did you kill him?”
“Today, when he sent for me, he told me that thanks to you he had discovered everything. He did not yet know what I had been trying to protect—he has never precisely14 understood the treasures and the ends of the library. He asked me to explain what he did not know. He wanted the finis Africae to be opened. The Italians had asked him to put an end to what they call the mystery kept alive by me and my predecessors15. They are driven by the lust16 for new things. ...”
“And you no doubt promised him you would come here and put an end to your life as you had put an end to the lives of the others, in such a way that the abbey’s honor would be saved and no one would know anything. Then you told him the way to come, later, and check. But instead you waited for him, to kill him. Didn’t you think he might enter through the mirror?”
“No, Abo is too short; he would never have been able to reach the verse by himself. I told him about the other passage, which I alone still knew. It is the one I used for so many years, because it was simpler in the darkness. I had only to reach the chapel17, then follow the bones of the dead to the end of the passage.”
“So you had him come here, knowing you would kill him. …”
“I could no longer trust him. He was frightened. He had become famous because at Fossanova he managed to get a body down some circular stairs. Undeserved glory. Now he is dead because he was unable to climb his own stairway.”
“You have been using it for forty years. When you realized you were going blind and would no longer be able to control the library, you acted shrewdly. You had a man you could trust elected abbot; and as librarian you first had him name Robert of Bobbio, whom you could direct as you liked, and then Malachi, who needed your help and never took a step without consulting you. For forty years you have been master of this abbey. This is what the Italian group realized, this is what Alinardo kept repeating, but no one would listen to him because they considered him mad by now. Am I right? But you were still awaiting me, and you couldn’t block the mirror entrance, because the mechanism is set in the wall. Why were you waiting for me? How could you be sure I would arrive?” William asked, but from his tone it was clear he had already guessed the answer and was expecting it as a reward for his own skill.
“From the first day I realized you would understand. From your voice, from the way you drew me to debate on a subject I did not want mentioned. You were better than the others: you would have arrived at the solution no matter what. You know that it suffices to think and to reconstruct in one’s own mind the thoughts of the other. And then I heard you were asking the other monks18 questions, all of them the right ones. But you never asked questions about the library, as if you al?ready knew its every secret. One night I came and knocked at your cell, and you were not in. You had to be here. Two lamps had disappeared from the kitchen, I heard a servant say. And finally, when Severinus came to talk to you about a book the other day in the narthex, I was sure you were on my trail.”
“But you managed to get the book away from me. You went to Malachi, who had had no idea of the situation. In his jealousy19, the fool was still obsessed20 with the idea that Adelmo had stolen his beloved Berengar, who by then craved21 younger flesh. Malachi didn’t un?derstand what Venantius had to do with this business, and you confused his thinking even further. You proba?bly told him Berengar had been intimate with Severinus, and as a reward Severinus had given him a book from the finis Africae; I don’t know exactly what you told him. Crazed with jealousy, Malachi went to Severinus and killed him. Then he didn’t have time to hunt for the book you had described to him, because the cellarer arrived. Is that what happened?”
“More or less.”
“But you didn’t want Malachi to die. He had proba?bly never looked at the books of the finis Africae, for he trusted you, respected your prohibitions22. He con2?fined himself to arranging the herbs at evening to frighten any intruders. Severinus supplied him with them. This is why Severinus let Malachi enter the infirmary the other day: it was his regular visit to collect the fresh herbs he prepared daily, by the abbot’s order. Have I guessed?”
“You have guessed. I did not want Malachi to die. I told him to find the book again, by whatever means, and bring it back here without opening it. I told him it had the power of a thousand scorpions23. But for the first time the madman chose to act on his own initiative. I did not want him to die: he was a faithful agent. But do not repeat to me what you know: I know that you know. I do not want to feed your pride; you already see to that on your own. I heard you this morning in the scriptorium questioning Benno about the Coena Cypriani. You were very close to the truth. I do not know how you discovered the secret of the mirror, but when I learned from the abbot that you had mentioned the finis Africae, I was sure you would come shortly. This is why I was waiting for you. So, now, what do you want?”
“I want,” William said, “to see the last manuscript of the bound volume that contains an Arabic text, a Syriac one, and an interpretation24 or a transcription of the Coena Cypriani. I want to see that copy in Greek, made perhaps by an Arab, or by a Spaniard, that you found when, as assistant to Paul of Rimini, you arranged to be sent back to your country to collect the finest manu?scripts of the Apocalypse in León and Castile, a booty that made you famous and respected here in the abbey and caused you to win the post of librarian, which rightfully belonged to Alinardo, ten years your senior. I want to see that Greek copy written on linen25 paper, which was then very rare and was manufactured in Silos, near Burgos, your home. I want to see the book you stole there after reading it, to keep others from reading it, and you hid it here, protecting it cleverly, and you did not destroy it because a man like you does not destroy a book, but simply guards it and makes sure no one touches it. I want to see the second book of the Poetics of Aristotle, the book everyone has believed lost or never written, and of which you hold perhaps the only copy.”
“What a magnificent librarian you would have been, William,” Jorge said, with a tone at once admiring and regretful. “So you know everything. Come, I believe there is a stool on your side of the table. Sit. Here is your prize.”
William sat and put down the lamp, which I had handed him, illuminating26 Jorge’s face from below. The old man took a volume that lay before him and passed it to William. I recognized the binding27: it was the book I had opened in the infirmary, thinking it an Arabic manuscript.
“Read it, then, leaf through it, William,” Jorge said. “You have won.”
William looked at the volume but did not touch it. From his habit he took a pair of gloves, not his usual mitts28 with the fingertips exposed, but the ones Severinus was wearing when we found him dead. Slowly he opened the worn and fragile binding. I came closer and bent29 over his shoulder. Jorge, with his sensitive hearing, caught the noise I made. “Are you here, too, boy?” he said. “I will show it to you, too ... afterward30.”
William rapidly glanced over the first pages. “It is an Arabic manuscript on the sayings of some fool, accord?ing to the catalogue,” he said. “What is it?”
“Oh, silly legends of the infidels, which hold that fools utter clever remarks that amaze even their priests and delight their caliphs ...”
“The second is a Syriac manuscript, but according to the catalogue it is the translation of a little Egyptian book on alchemy. How does it happen to be in this collection?”
“It is an Egyptian work from the third century of our era. Coherent with the work that follows, but less dangerous. No one would lend an ear to the ravings of an African alchemist. He attributes the creation of the world to divine laughter. ...” He raised his face and recited, with the prodigious memory of a reader who for forty years now had been repeating to himself things read when he still had the gift of sight: “ ‘The moment God laughed seven gods were born who governed the world, the moment he burst out laughing light appeared, at his second laugh appeared water, and on the seventh day of his laughing appeared the soul. ...’ Folly32. Likewise the work that comes after, by one of the countless33 idiots who set themselves to glossing35 the Coena … But these are not what interest you.”
William, in fact, had rapidly passed over the pages and had come to the Greek text. I saw immediately that the pages were of a different, softer material, the first almost worn away, with a part of the margin36 consumed, spattered with pale stains, such as time and dampness usually produce on other books. William read the open?ing lines, first in Greek, then translating into Latin, and then he continued in this language so that I, too, could learn how the fatal book began:
In the first book we dealt with tragedy and saw how, by arousing pity and fear, it produces catharsis, the purification of those feelings. As we promised, we will now deal with comedy (as well as with satire37 and mime38) and see how, in inspiring the pleasure of the ridiculous, it arrives at the purification of that passion. That such passion is most worthy39 of consideration we have already said in the book on the soul, inasmuch as—alone among the animals—man is capable of laughter. We will then define the type of actions of which comedy is the mimesis, then we will examine the means by which comedy excites laughter, and these means are actions and speech. We will show how the ridiculousness of actions is born from the likening of the best to the worst and vice13 versa, from arousing surprise through deceit, from the impossible, from violation41 of the laws of nature, from the irrele?vant and the inconsequent, from the debasing of the characters, from the use of comical and vulgar pantomime, from disharmony, from the choice of the least worthy things. We will then show how the ridiculousness of speech is born from the misunder?standings of similar words for different things and different words for similar things, from garrulity42 and repetition, from play on words, from diminutives43, from errors of pronunciation, and from barbarisms.
William translated with some difficulty, seeking the right words, pausing now and then. As he translated he smiled, as if he recognized things he was expecting to find. He read the first page aloud, then stopped, as if he were not interested in knowing more, and rapidly leafed through the following pages. But after a few pages he encountered resistance, because near the up?per corner of the side edge, and along the top, some pages had stuck together, as happens when the damp and deteriorating44 papery substance forms a kind of sticky paste. Jorge realized that the rustle45 of pages had ceased, and he urged William on.
“Go on, read it, leaf through it. It is yours, you have earned it.”
William laughed, seeming rather amused. “Then it is not true that you consider me so clever, Jorge! You cannot see: I have gloves on. With my fingers made clumsy like this, I cannot detach one page from the next. I should proceed with bare hands, moistening my fingers with my tongue, as I happened to do this morning while reading in the scriptorium, so that sud?denly that mystery also became clear to me. And I should go on leafing like that until a good portion of the poison had passed to my mouth. I am speaking of the poison that you, one day long ago, took from the laboratory of Severinus. Perhaps you were already wor?ried then, because you had heard someone in the scriptorium display curiosity, either about the finis Africae or about the lost book of Aristotle, or about both. I believe you kept the ampoule for a long time, planning to use it the moment you sensed danger. And you sensed that days ago, when Venantius came too close to the subject of this book, and at the same time Berengar, heedless, vain, trying to impress Adelmo, showed he was less secretive than you had hoped. So you came and set your trap. Just in time, because a few nights later Venantius got in, stole the book, and avidly46 leafed through it, with an almost physical voracity47. He soon felt ill and ran to seek help in the kitchen. Where he died. Am I mistaken?”
“No. Go on.”
“The rest is simple. Berengar finds Venantius’s body in the kitchen, fears there will be an inquiry48, because, after all, Venantius got into the Aedificium at night thanks to Berengar’s prior revelation to Adelmo. He doesn’t know what to do; he loads the body on his shoulders and flings it into the jar of blood, thinking everyone will be convinced Venantius drowned.”
“And how do you know that was what happened?”
“You know it as well. I saw how you reacted when they found a cloth stained with Berengar’s blood. With that cloth the foolhardy man had wiped his hands after putting Venantius in the jar. But since Berengar had disappeared, he could only have disappeared with the book, which by this point had aroused his curiosity, too. And you were expecting him to be found somewhere, not bloodstained but poisoned. The rest is clear. Severinus finds the book, because Berengar went first to the infirmary to read it, safe from indiscreet eyes. Malachi, at your instigation, kills Severinus, then dies himself when he comes back here to discover what was so forbidden about the object that had made him a murderer. And thus we have an explanation for all the corpses49. ... What a fool ...”
“Who?”
“I. Because of a remark of Alinardo’s, I was con?vinced the series of crimes followed the sequence of the seven trumpets50 of the Apocalypse. Hail for Adelmo, and his death was a suicide. Blood for Venantius, and there it had been a bizarre notion of Berengar’s; water for Berengar himself, and it had been a random51 act; the third part of the sky for Severinus, and Malachi had struck him with the armillary sphere because it was the only thing he found handy. And finally scorpions for Malachi ... Why did you tell him that the book had the power of a thousand scorpions?”
“Because of you. Alinardo had told me about his idea, and then I heard from someone that you, too, found it persuasive52. ... I became convinced that a di?vine plan was directing these deaths, for which I was not responsible. And I told Malachi that if he were to become curious he would perish in accordance with the same divine plan; and so he did.”
“So, then ... I conceived a false pattern to interpret the moves of the guilty man, and the guilty man fell in with it. And it was this same false pattern that put me on your trail. Everyone nowadays is obsessed with the book of John, but you seemed to me the one who pondered it most, and not so much because of your speculations53 about the Antichrist as because you came from the country that has produced the most splendid Apocalypses. One day somebody told me it was you who had brought the most beautiful codices of this book to the library. Then, another day, Alinardo was raving31 about a mysterious enemy who had been sent to seek books in Silos (my curiosity was piqued54 when he said this enemy had returned prematurely55 into the realm of darkness: at first it might have seemed the man he was speaking of had died young, but he was referring to your blindness). Silos is near Burgos, and this morning, in the catalogue, I found a series of acquisitions, all of them Spanish Apocalypses, from the period when you had succeeded or were about to succeed Paul of Rimini. And in that group of acquisi?tions there was this book also. But I couldn’t be positive of my reconstruction56 until I learned that the stolen book was on linen paper. Then I remembered Silos, and I was sure. Naturally, as the idea of this book and its venomous power gradually began to take shape, the idea of an apocalyptic57 pattern began to collapse58, though I couldn’t understand how both the book and the sequence of the trumpets pointed59 to you. But I under?stood the story of the book better because, directed by the apocalyptic pattern, I was forced more and more to think of you, and your debates about laughter. So that this evening, when I no longer believed in the apocalyp?tic pattern, I insisted on watching the stables, and in the stables, by pure chance, Adso gave me the key to entering the finis Africae.”
I cannot follow you,” Jorge said. “You are proud to show me how, following the dictates60 of your reason, you arrived at me, and yet you have shown me you arrived here by following a false reasoning. What do you mean to say to me?”
“To you, nothing. I am disconcerted, that is all. But it is of no matter. I am here.”
“The Lord was sounding the seven trumpets. And you, even in your error, heard a confused echo of that sound.”
“You said this yesterday evening in your sermon. You are trying to convince yourself that this whole story proceeded according to a divine plan, in order to conceal61 from yourself the fact that you are a murderer.”
“I have killed no one. Each died according to his destiny because of his sins. I was only an instrument.”
“Yesterday you said that Judas also was an instrument. That does not prevent him from being damned.”
“I accept the risk of damnation. The Lord will ab?solve me, because He knows I acted for His glory. My duty was to protect the library.”
“A few minutes ago you were ready to kill me, too, and also this boy. ...”
“You are subtler, but no better than the others.”
“And now what will happen, now that I have eluded62 the trap?”
“We shall see,” Jorge answered. “I do not necessarily want your death; perhaps I will succeed in convincing you. But first tell me: how did you guess it was the second book of Aristotle?”
“Your anathemas63 against laughter would surely not have been enough for me, or what little I learned about your argument with the others. At first I didn’t under?stand their significance. But there were references to a shameless stone that rolls over the plain, and to cicadas that will sing from the ground, to venerable fig6 trees. I had already read something of the sort: I verified it during these past few days. These are examples that Aristotle used in the first book of the Poetics, and in the Rhetoric64. Then I remembered that Isidore of Seville defines comedy as something that tells of stupra virginum et amores meretricum—how shall I put it?—of less than virtuous65 loves. ... Gradually this second book took shape in my mind as it had to be. I could tell you almost all of it, without reading the pages that were meant to poison me. Comedy is born from the komai—that is, from the peasant villages—as a joyous66 celebration after a meal or a feast. Comedy does not tell of famous and powerful men, but of base and ridiculous creatures, though not wicked; and it does not end with the death of the protagonists67. It achieves the effect of the ridiculous by showing the defects and vices68 of ordinary men. Here Aristotle sees the tendency to laughter as a force for good, which can also have an instructive value: through witty69 riddles70 and unexpected metaphors71, though it tells us things differently from the way they are, as if it were lying, it actually obliges us to examine them more closely, and it makes us say: Ah, this is just how things are, and I didn’t know it. Truth reached by depicting72 men and the world as worse than they are or than we believe them to be, worse in any case than the epics73, the tragedies, lives of the saints have shown them to us. Is that it?”
“Fairly close. You reconstructed it by reading other books?”
“Many of which Venantius was working on. I believe Venantius had been hunting for this book for some time. He must have read in the catalogue the indica?tions I also read, and must have been convinced this was the book he was seeking. But he didn’t know how to enter the finis Africae. When he heard Berengar speak of it with Adelmo, then he was off like a dog on the track of a hare.”
“That is what happened. I understood at once. I realized the moment had come when I would have to defend the library tooth and nail. ...”
“And you spread the ointment74. It must have been a hard task ... in the dark. ...”
“By now my hands see more than your eyes. I had taken a brush from Severinus, and I also used gloves. It was a good idea, was it not? It took you a long time to arrive at it. ...”
“Yes. I was thinking of a more complex device, a poisoned pin or something of the sort. I must say that your solution was exemplary: the victim poisoned him?self when he was alone, and only to the extent that he wanted to read. ...”
I realized, with a shudder75, that at this moment these two men, arrayed in a mortal conflict, were admiring each other, as if each had acted only to win the other’s applause. The thought crossed my mind that he arti?fices Berengar used to seduce76 Adelmo, and the simple and natural acts with which the girl had aroused my passion and my desire, were nothing compared with the cleverness and mad skill each used to conquer the other, nothing compared with the act of seduction going on before my eyes at that moment, which had unfolded over seven days, each of the two interlocutors making, as it were, mysterious appointments with the other, each secretly aspiring77 to the other’s approbation78, each fearing and hating the other.
“But now tell me,” William was saying, “why? Why did you want to shield this book more than so many others? Why did you hide—though not at the price of crime—treatises on necromancy79, pages that may have blasphemed against the name of God, while for these pages you damned your brothers and have damned yourself? There are many other books that speak of comedy, many others that praise laughter. Why did this one fill you with such fear?”
“Because it was by the Philosopher. Every book by that man has destroyed a part of the learning that Christianity had accumulated over the centuries. The fathers had said everything that needed to be known about the power of the Word, but then Boethius had only to gloss34 the Philosopher and the divine mystery of the Word was transformed into a human parody81 of categories and syllogism82. The book of Genesis says what has to be known about the composition of the cosmos83, but it sufficed to rediscover the Physics of the Philosopher to have the universe reconceived in terms of dull and slimy matter, and the Arab Averro?s almost convinced everyone of the eternity84 of the world. We knew everything about the divine names, and the Dominican buried by Abo—seduced by the Philosopher—?renamed them, following the proud paths of natural reason. And so the cosmos, which for the Areopagite revealed itself to those who knew how to look up at the luminous85 cascade86 of the exemplary first cause, has become a preserve of terrestrial evidence for which they refer to an abstract agent. Before, we used to look to heaven, deigning87 only a frowning glance at the mire88 of matter; now we look at the earth, and we believe in the heavens because of earthly testimony89. Every word of the Philosopher, by whom now even saints and proph?ets swear, has overturned the image of the world. But he had not succeeded in overturning the image of God. If this book were to become ... had become an object for open interpretation, we would have crossed the last boundary.”
“But what frightened you in this discussion of laughter? You cannot eliminate laughter by eliminating the book.”
“No, to be sure. But laughter is weakness, corruption91, the foolishness of our flesh. It is the peasant’s entertain?ment, the drunkard’s license92; even the church in her wisdom has granted the moment of feast, carnival93, fair, this diurnal94 pollution that releases humors and dis?tracts95 from other desires and other ambitions. ... Still, laughter remains96 base, a defense97 for the simple, a mystery desecrated98 for the plebeians99. The apostle also said as much: it is better to marry than to burn. Rather than rebel against God’s established order, laugh and enjoy your foul101 parodies102 of order, at the end of the meal, after you have drained jugs103 and flasks104. Elect the king of fools, lose yourselves in the liturgy105 of the ass12 and the pig, play at performing your saturnalia head down. ... But here, here”—now Jorge struck the table with his finger, near the book William was holding open—“here the function of laughter is reversed, it is elevated to art, the doors of the world of the learned are opened to it, it becomes the object of philosophy, and of perfidious106 theology. ... You saw yesterday how the simple can conceive and carry out the most lurid107 heresies108, disavowing the laws of God and the laws of nature. But the church can deal with the heresy109 of the simple, who condemn110 themselves on their own, destroyed by their ignorance. The ignorant madness of Dolcino and his like will never cause a crisis in the divine order. He will preach violence and will die of violence, will leave no trace, will be consumed as carnival is consumed, and it does not matter whether during the feast the epiphany of the world upside down will be produced on earth for a brief time. Provided the act is not transformed into plan, provided this vulgar tongue does not find a Latin that translates it. Laughter frees the villein from fear of the Devil, because in the feast of fools the Devil also appears poor and foolish, and therefore controllable. But this book could teach that freeing oneself of the fear of the Devil is wisdom. When he laughs, as the wine gurgles in his throat, the villein feels he is master, because he has overturned his position with respect to his lord; but this book could teach learned men the clever and, from that moment, illustrious artifices111 that could legitimatize112 the reversal. Then what in the villein is still, fortunately, an opera?tion of the belly113 would be transformed into an opera?tion of the brain. That laughter is proper to man is a sign of our limitation, sinners that we are. But from this book many corrupt90 minds like yours would draw the extreme syllogism, whereby laughter is man’s end! Laughter, for a few moments, distracts the villein from fear. But law is imposed by fear, whose true name is fear of God. This book could strike the Luciferine spark that would set a new fire to the whole world, and laughter would be defined as the new art, unknown even to Prometheus, for canceling fear. To the villein who laughs, at that moment, dying does not matter: but then, when the license is past, the liturgy again imposes on him, according to the divine plan, the fear of death. And from this book there could be born the new destructive aim to destroy death through redemp?tion from fear. And what would we be, we sinful creatures, without fear, perhaps the most foresighted, the most loving of the divine gifts? For centuries the doctors and the fathers have, secreted114 perfumed es?sences of holy learning to redeem115, through the thought of that which is lofty, the wretchedness and temptation of that which is base. And this book—considering come?dy a wondrous116 medicine, with its satire and mime, which would produce the purification of the passions through the enactment117 of defect, fault, weakness—would induce false scholars to try to redeem the lofty with a diabolical118 reversal: through the acceptance of the base. This book could prompt the idea that man can wish to have on earth (as your Bacon suggested with regard to natural magic) the abundance of the land of Cockaigne. But this is what we cannot and must not have. Look at the young monks who shamelessly read the parodizing buffoonery of the Coena Cypriani. What a diabolical transfiguration of the Holy Scripture120! And yet as they read it they know it is evil. But on the day when the Philosopher’s word would justify121 the marginal jests of the debauched imagination, or when what has been marginal would leap to the center, every trace of the center would be lost. The people of God would be transformed into an assembly of monsters belched122 forth124 from the abysses of the terra incognita, and at that moment the edge of the known world would become the heart of the Christian80 empire, the Arimaspi on the throne of Peter, Blemmyes in the monasteries125, dwarfs126 with huge bellies127 and immense heads in charge of the library! Servants laying down the law, we (but you, too, then) obeying, in the absence of any law. A Greek philosopher (whom your Aristotle quotes here, an ac?complice and foul auctoritas) said that the seriousness of opponents must be dispelled128 with laughter, and laughter opposed with seriousness. The prudence129 of our fathers made its choice: if laughter is the delight of the plebeians, the license of the plebeians must be restrained and humiliated130, and intimidated132 by sternness. And the plebeians have no weapons for refining their laughter until they have made it an instrument against the seriousness of the spiritual shepherds who must lead them to eternal life and rescue them from the seductions of belly, pudenda, food, their sordid133 desires. But if one day somebody, brandishing134 the words of the Philosopher and therefore speaking as a philosopher, were to raise the weapon of laughter to the condition of subtle weapon, if the rhetoric of conviction were replaced by the rhetoric of mockery, if the topics of the patient construction of the images of redemption were to be replaced by the topics of the impatient dismantling135 and upsetting of every holy and venerable image—oh, that day even you, William, and all your knowledge, would be swept away!”
“Why? I would match my wit with the wit of others. It would be a better world than the one where the fire and red-hot iron of Bernard Gui humiliate131 the fire and red-hart iron of Dolcino.”
“You yourself would by then be caught in the Devil’s plot. You would fight on the other side at the field of Armageddon, where the final conflict must take place. But by that day the church must be able to impose once again its rule on the conflict. Blasphemy136 does not frighten us, because even in the cursing of God we recognize the deformed137 image of the wrath138 of Jehovah, who curses the rebellious139 angels. We are not afraid of the violence of those who kill the shepherds in the name of some fantasy of renewal140, because it is the same violence as that of the princes who tried to destroy the people of Israel. We are not afraid of the severity of the Donatists, the mad suicide of the Circumcellions, the lust of the Bogomils, the proud purity of the Albigensians, the flagellants’ need for blood, the evil madness of the Brothers of the Free Spirit: we know them all and we know the root of their sins, which is also the root of our holiness. We are not afraid, and, above all, we know how to destroy them—better, how to allow them to destroy themselves, arrogantly141 carrying to its zenith the will to die that is born from their own nadir142. Indeed, I would say their presence is precious to us, it is inscribed143 in the plan of God, because their sin prompts our virtue144, their cursing encourages our hymn145 of praise, their undisciplined penance146 regulates our taste for sacrifice, their impiety147 makes our piety148 shine, just as the Prince of Darkness was necessary, with his rebellion and his desperation, to make the glory of God shine more radiantly, the beginning and end of all hope. But if one day—and no longer as plebeian100 exception, but as ascesis of the learned, devoted149 to the indestructible testimony of Scripture—the art of mockery were to be made acceptable, and to seem noble and liberal and no longer mechanical; if one day someone could say (and be heard), ‘I laugh at the Incarnation,’ then we would have no weapons to combat that blasphemy, because it would summon the dark powers of corporal matter, those that are affirmed in the fart and the belch123, and the fart and the belch would claim the right that is only of the spirit, to breathe where they list!”
“Lycurgus had a statue erected150 to laughter.”
“You read that in the libellus of Cloritian, who tried to absolve151 mimes40 of the sin of impiety, and tells how a sick man was healed by a doctor who helped him laugh. What need was there to heal him, if God had estab?lished that his earthly day had reached its end?”
“I don’t believe the doctor cured him. He taught him to laugh at his illness.”
“Illness is not exorcised. It is destroyed.”
“With the body of the sick man.”
“If necessary.”
“You are the Devil,” William said then.
Jorge seemed not to understand. If he had been able to see, I would say he stared at his interlocutor with a dazed look. “I?” he said.
“Yes. They lied to you. The Devil is not the Prince of Matter; the Devil is the arrogance152 of the spirit, faith without smile, truth that is never seized by doubt. The Devil is grim because he knows where he is going, and, in moving, he always returns whence he came. You are the Devil, and like the Devil you live in darkness. If you wanted to convince me, you have failed. I hate you, Jorge, and if I could, I would lead you downstairs, across the ground, naked, with fowl’s feathers stuck in your asshole and your face painted like a juggler153 and a buffoon119, so the whole monastery154 would laugh at you and be afraid no longer. I would like to smear155 honey all over you and then roll you in feathers, and take you on a leash156 to fairs, to say to all: He was announcing the truth to you and telling you that the truth has the taste of death, and you believed, not in his words, but in his grimness. And now I say to you that, in the infinite whirl of possible things, God allows you also to imagine a world where the presumed interpreter of the truth is nothing but a clumsy raven157, who repeats words learned long ago.”
“You are worse than the Devil, Minorite,” Jorge said. “You are a clown, like the saint who gave birth to you all. You are like your Francis, who de toto corpore fecerat linguam, who preached sermons giving a perfor?mance like a mountebank’s, who confounded the miser158 by putting gold pieces in his hand, who humiliated the nuns’ devotion by reciting the ‘Miserere’ instead of the sermon, who begged in French, and imitated with a piece of wood the movements of a violin player, who disguised himself as a tramp to confound the glutton159?ous monks, who flung himself naked in the snow, spoke with animals and plants, transformed the very mystery of the Nativity into a village spectacle, called the lamb of Bethlehem by imitating the bleat160 of a sheep. ... It was a good school. Was that Friar Diotisalvi of Florence not a Minorite?”
“Yes.” William smiled. “The one who went to the convent of the preachers and said he would not accept food if first they did not give him a piece of Brother John’s tunic161 to preserve as a relic162, and when he was given it he wiped his behind and threw it in the dung-heap and with a stick rolled it around in the dung, shouting: Alas163, help me, brothers, because I dropped the saint’s relic in the latrine!”
“This story amuses you, apparently164. Perhaps you would like to tell me also the one about that other Minorite Friar Paul Millemosche, who one day fell full length on the ice; when his fellow citizens mocked him and one asked him whether he would not like to lie on something better, he said to the man: Yes, your wife ... That is how you and your brothers seek the truth.”
“That is how Francis taught people to look at things from another direction.”
“But we have disciplined them. You saw them yesterday, your brothers. They have rejoined our ranks, they no longer speak like the simple. The simple must not speak. This book would have justified165 the idea that the tongue of the simple is the vehicle of wisdom. This had to be prevented, which I have done. You say I am the Devil, but it is not true: I have been the hand of God.”
“The hand of God creates; it does not conceal.”
“There are boundaries beyond which it is not permit?ted3 to go. God decreed that certain papers should bear the words ‘hic sunt leones.’ ”
“God created the monsters, too. And you. And He wants everything to be spoken of.”
Jorge reached out his shaking hands and drew the book to him. He held it open but turned it around, so that William could still see it in the right position. “Then why,” he said, “did He allow this text to be lost over the course of the centuries, and only one copy to be saved, and the copy of that copy, which had ended up God knows where, to remain buried for years in the hands of an infidel who knew no Greek, and then to lie abandoned in the secrecy166 of an old library, where I, not you, was called by Providence167 to find it and to hide it for more years still? I know, I know as if I saw it written in adamantine letters, with my eyes, which see things you do not see, I know that this was the will of the Lord, and I acted, interpreting it. In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.”
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1
prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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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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ted
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| vt.翻晒，撒，撒开 | |
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mildewed
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| adj.发了霉的，陈腐的，长了霉花的v.（使）发霉，（使）长霉( mildew的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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fig
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| n.无花果(树) | |
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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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illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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suffocated
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| （使某人）窒息而死( suffocate的过去式和过去分词 )； （将某人）闷死； 让人感觉闷热； 憋气 | |
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plaque
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| n.饰板，匾，(医)血小板 | |
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mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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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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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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predecessors
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| n.前任( predecessor的名词复数 )；前辈；（被取代的）原有事物；前身 | |
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lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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monks
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| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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obsessed
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| adj.心神不宁的,鬼迷心窍的,沉迷的 | |
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craved
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| 渴望，热望( crave的过去式 )； 恳求，请求 | |
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prohibitions
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| 禁令，禁律( prohibition的名词复数 )； 禁酒； 禁例 | |
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scorpions
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| n.蝎子( scorpion的名词复数 ) | |
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interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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illuminating
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| a.富于启发性的，有助阐明的 | |
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binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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mitts
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| n.露指手套，棒球手套，拳击手套( mitt的名词复数 ) | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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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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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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gloss
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| n.光泽，光滑；虚饰；注释；vt.加光泽于；掩饰 | |
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35
glossing
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| v.注解( gloss的现在分词 )；掩饰（错误）；粉饰；把…搪塞过去 | |
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margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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satire
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| n.讽刺，讽刺文学，讽刺作品 | |
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38
mime
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| n.指手画脚，做手势，哑剧演员，哑剧；vi./vt.指手画脚的表演，用哑剧的形式表演 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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mimes
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| n.指手画脚( mime的名词复数 )；做手势；哑剧；哑剧演员v.指手画脚地表演，用哑剧的形式表演( mime的第三人称单数 ) | |
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violation
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| n.违反(行为)，违背(行为)，侵犯 | |
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garrulity
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| n.饶舌，多嘴 | |
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43
diminutives
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| n.微小( diminutive的名词复数 )；昵称，爱称 | |
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deteriorating
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| 恶化，变坏( deteriorate的现在分词 ) | |
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45
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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46
avidly
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| adv.渴望地，热心地 | |
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47
voracity
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| n.贪食，贪婪 | |
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48
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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49
corpses
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| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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50
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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51
random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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52
persuasive
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| adj.有说服力的，能说得使人相信的 | |
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53
speculations
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| n.投机买卖( speculation的名词复数 )；思考；投机活动；推断 | |
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54
piqued
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| v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的过去式和过去分词 )；激起（好奇心） | |
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55
prematurely
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| adv.过早地，贸然地 | |
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56
reconstruction
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| n.重建，再现，复原 | |
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57
apocalyptic
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| adj.预示灾祸的，启示的 | |
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58
collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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59
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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60
dictates
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| n.命令，规定，要求( dictate的名词复数 )v.大声讲或读( dictate的第三人称单数 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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61
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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62
eluded
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| v.（尤指机敏地）避开( elude的过去式和过去分词 )；逃避；躲避；使达不到 | |
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63
anathemas
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| n.（天主教的）革出教门( anathema的名词复数 )；诅咒；令人极其讨厌的事；被基督教诅咒的人或事 | |
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rhetoric
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| n.修辞学，浮夸之言语 | |
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65
virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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67
protagonists
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| n.（戏剧的）主角( protagonist的名词复数 )；（故事的）主人公；现实事件（尤指冲突和争端的）主要参与者；领导者 | |
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68
vices
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| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
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69
witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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70
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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71
metaphors
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| 隐喻( metaphor的名词复数 ) | |
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72
depicting
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| 描绘，描画( depict的现在分词 )； 描述 | |
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73
epics
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| n.叙事诗( epic的名词复数 )；壮举；惊人之举；史诗般的电影（或书籍） | |
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74
ointment
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| n.药膏，油膏，软膏 | |
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75
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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76
seduce
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| vt.勾引，诱奸，诱惑，引诱 | |
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aspiring
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| adj.有志气的；有抱负的；高耸的v.渴望；追求 | |
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approbation
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| n.称赞；认可 | |
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79
necromancy
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| n.巫术；通灵术 | |
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80
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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81
parody
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| n.打油诗文，诙谐的改编诗文，拙劣的模仿；v.拙劣模仿，作模仿诗文 | |
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82
syllogism
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| n.演绎法，三段论法 | |
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83
cosmos
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| n.宇宙；秩序，和谐 | |
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84
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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85
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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86
cascade
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| n.小瀑布，喷流；层叠；vi.成瀑布落下 | |
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87
deigning
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| v.屈尊，俯就( deign的现在分词 ) | |
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88
mire
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| n.泥沼，泥泞；v.使...陷于泥泞，使...陷入困境 | |
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89
testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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corrupt
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| v.贿赂，收买；adj.腐败的，贪污的 | |
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corruption
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| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
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92
license
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| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
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carnival
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| n.嘉年华会，狂欢，狂欢节，巡回表演 | |
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diurnal
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| adj.白天的，每日的 | |
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95
tracts
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| 大片土地( tract的名词复数 )； 地带； （体内的）道； （尤指宣扬宗教、伦理或政治的）短文 | |
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96
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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97
defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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98
desecrated
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| 毁坏或亵渎( desecrate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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99
plebeians
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| n.平民( plebeian的名词复数 )；庶民；平民百姓；平庸粗俗的人 | |
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100
plebeian
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| adj.粗俗的；平民的；n.平民；庶民 | |
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101
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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102
parodies
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| n.拙劣的模仿( parody的名词复数 )；恶搞；滑稽的模仿诗文；表面上模仿得笨拙但充满了机智用来嘲弄别人作品的作品v.滑稽地模仿，拙劣地模仿( parody的第三人称单数 ) | |
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103
jugs
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| （有柄及小口的）水壶( jug的名词复数 ) | |
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104
flasks
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| n.瓶，长颈瓶， 烧瓶( flask的名词复数 ) | |
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105
liturgy
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| n.礼拜仪式 | |
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106
perfidious
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| adj.不忠的，背信弃义的 | |
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107
lurid
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| adj.可怕的；血红的；苍白的 | |
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108
heresies
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| n.异端邪说，异教( heresy的名词复数 ) | |
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109
heresy
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| n.异端邪说；异教 | |
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110
condemn
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| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
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111
artifices
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| n.灵巧( artifice的名词复数 )；诡计；巧妙办法；虚伪行为 | |
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112
legitimatize
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| v.使合法化，立为嫡嗣 | |
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113
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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114
secreted
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| v.（尤指动物或植物器官）分泌( secrete的过去式和过去分词 )；隐匿，隐藏 | |
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115
redeem
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| v.买回，赎回，挽回，恢复，履行（诺言等） | |
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116
wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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117
enactment
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| n.演出，担任…角色；制订，通过 | |
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118
diabolical
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| adj.恶魔似的，凶暴的 | |
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119
buffoon
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| n.演出时的丑角 | |
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120
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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121
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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122
belched
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| v.打嗝( belch的过去式和过去分词 )；喷出，吐出；打（嗝）；嗳（气） | |
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123
belch
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| v.打嗝，喷出 | |
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124
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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125
monasteries
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| 修道院( monastery的名词复数 ) | |
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126
dwarfs
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| n.侏儒，矮子（dwarf的复数形式）vt.（使）显得矮小（dwarf的第三人称单数形式） | |
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127
bellies
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| n.肚子( belly的名词复数 )；腹部；（物体的）圆形或凸起部份；腹部…形的 | |
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128
dispelled
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| v.驱散，赶跑( dispel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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129
prudence
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| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
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130
humiliated
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| 感到羞愧的 | |
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131
humiliate
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| v.使羞辱，使丢脸[同]disgrace | |
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132
intimidated
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| v.恐吓；威胁adj.害怕的；受到威胁的 | |
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133
sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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134
brandishing
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| v.挥舞( brandish的现在分词 )；炫耀 | |
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135
dismantling
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| （枪支）分解 | |
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136
blasphemy
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| n.亵渎，渎神 | |
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137
deformed
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| adj.畸形的；变形的；丑的，破相了的 | |
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138
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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139
rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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140
renewal
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| adj.(契约)延期，续订，更新，复活，重来 | |
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141
arrogantly
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| adv.傲慢地 | |
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142
nadir
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| n.最低点，无底 | |
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143
inscribed
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| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
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144
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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145
hymn
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌 | |
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146
penance
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| n.（赎罪的）惩罪 | |
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147
impiety
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| n.不敬；不孝 | |
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148
piety
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| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
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149
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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150
ERECTED
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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151
absolve
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| v.赦免，解除（责任等） | |
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152
arrogance
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| n.傲慢，自大 | |
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153
juggler
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| n. 变戏法者, 行骗者 | |
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154
monastery
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| n.修道院，僧院，寺院 | |
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155
smear
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| v.涂抹；诽谤，玷污；n.污点；诽谤，污蔑 | |
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156
leash
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| n.牵狗的皮带，束缚；v.用皮带系住 | |
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157
raven
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| n.渡鸟，乌鸦；adj.乌亮的 | |
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158
miser
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| n.守财奴，吝啬鬼 (adj.miserly) | |
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159
glutton
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| n.贪食者，好食者 | |
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160
bleat
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| v.咩咩叫，(讲)废话，哭诉；n.咩咩叫，废话，哭诉 | |
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161
tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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162
relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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163
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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164
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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165
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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166
secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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167
providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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