“Keep not thy mind only on one place,” said the sweet Master, who had me on that side where people have their heart. Wherefore I moved my eyes and saw behind Mary, upon that side where he was who was moving me, another story displayed upon the rock; whereupon I passed Virgil and drew near so that it might be set before my eyes. There in the very marble was carved the cart and the oxen drawing the holy ark, because of which men fear an office not given in charge.[1] In front appeared people; and all of them, divided in seven choirs, of two of my senses made the one say “NO,” the other “YES, THEY ARE SINGING.”[2] In like manner, by the smoke of the incense that was imaged there, mine eyes and nose were made in YES and NO discordant. There, preceding the blessed vessel, dancing, girt up, was the humble Psalmist, and more and less than king was he in that proceeding. Opposite, figured at a window of a great palace, Michal was looking on even as a lady scornful and troubled.[3]
[1] “And they set the ark of God on a new cart, and brought it out of the house.. . and Uzzah and Ahio drave the new cart….and when they came to Nachon’s threshing-floor, Uzzah put forth his hand to the ark of God, and took hold of it; for the oxen shook it. And the anger of the Lord was kindled against Uzzah, and God smote him there for his error; and there he died by the ark of God.” 2 Samuel, vi. 4-7.
[2] The hearing said “No,” the sight said “Yes.”
[3] “So David went and brought up the ark of God… into the city of David with gladness. And when they that bare the ark of the Lord had gone six paces he sacrificed oxen and fatlings. And David danced before the Lord with all his might; and David was girded with a linen ephod. So David and all the house of Israel brought up the ark of the Lord with shouting, and with the sound of the trumpet. And as the ark of the Lord came into the city of David, Michal, Saul’s daughter, looked through a window, and saw King David leaping and dancing before the Lord; and she despised him in her heart.” 2 Samuel, vi. 12-16.
I moved my feet from the place where I was standing to look from near at another story which behind Michal was shining white on me. Here was storied the high glory of the Roman prince, whose worth incited Gregory to his great victory:[1] I speak of Trajan the emperor; and a poor widow was at his bridle in attitude of weeping and of grief. Round about him there seemed a press and throng of knights, and the eagles in the gold above him to the sight were moving in the wind. The wretched woman among all these seemed to be saying, “Lord, do vengeance for me for my son who is slain, whereat I am broken-hearted.” And he to answer her, “Now wait till I return;” and she, “My Lord,”—like one in whom grief is hasty,—“if thou return not?” And he, “He who shall be where I am will do it for thee.” And she, “What will the good deed of another be to thee if thou art mindless of thine own?” Whereon he, “Now comfort thee; for it behoves that I discharge my own duty ere I go; justice requires it, and pity constrains me.” He who hath never seen new thing [2] had produced that visible speech, novel to us, since on earth it is not found.
[1] This legend of Trajan had great vogue during the Middle Ages. It was believed that Pope Gregory the Great interceded for him, praying that he might be delivered from Hell; “then God because of these prayers drew that soul from pain and put it into glory.” This was Gregory’s great victory. See Paradise, XX., p. 131.
[2] God, to whom nothing can be new.
While I was delighting me with regarding the images of such great humilities, and for their Maker’s sake dear to behold, “Lo, on this side many people, but they make few steps,” murmured the Poet. “They will put us on the way to the high stairs.” My eyes that were intent on looking in order to see novelties whereof they are fain, in turning toward him were not slow.
I would not, indeed, Reader, that thou be dismayed at thy good purpose, through hearing how God wills that the debt be paid. Attend not to the form of the suffering; think on what follows; think that at worst beyond the Great Judgment it cannot go!
I began, “Master, that which I see moving toward us, seems to me not persons, but what I know not, my look is so in vain.” And he to me, “The heavy condition of their torment so presses them to earth, that mine own eyes at first had contention with it. But look fixedly there, and disentangle with thy sight that which cometh beneath those stones; now thou canst discern how each is smitten.”