Canto XIX of Hell
The admirers of the Golden calf.
The Angel of the Apocalypse.
O Simon mago, o miseri seguaci che le cose di Dio, che di bontate deon essere spose, e voi rapaci per oro e per argento avolterate, or convien che per voi suoni la tromba, però che ne la terza bolgia state. Già eravamo, a la seguente tomba, montati de lo scoglio in quella parte ch'a punto sovra mezzo 'l fosso piomba. O somma sapienza, quanta è l'arte che mostri in cielo, in terra e nel mal mondo, e quanto giusto tua virtù comparte!
Oh, Preachers, predicators and gourous, great priests, evangelists, prophets and proselytes, politicians, civils servants, Ministers of Finance and servants of the State, you, raptors, by whom the acts of God and of the State, which should not be propagated without receiving in return, prostituted themselves for gold, money or favours! And you, miserable disciples of these impostors, who adore the Golden calf, it is necessary that, the trumpet sounds for you now, since you are in the third pit. I saw a Haven like a "Grande-entrée", with salty waters and surrounded by dunes, in which there where round holes dug in the hardened salt. Out of the mouth of each hole, emerged the feet of a sinner and his legs, to the calf; the remainder of the body remained inside. To all, flamed the plants of their two feet stired by thousands of indolent faithful ones who seemed to nourish them without understanding that they tortured them. My Master transferred me onto the dune of the South, to the hole of whom was crying as much as he attracted us to him. I spoke to him as follows: "Oh, whom you would be, you who stand upside down, painful soul, plugged like a pile, speaks to me if you can!" I was standing there like the priest confessing a perfidious assassin, who, already head down to the ground, call him back, to delay the death. He shouted: "Who you are, you who is there, upright, are you not one of ours? And this multitude which surrounds you, is it not your herd and which you have of a divine poison saved from their miserable life to bring them closer to God who is also mine?" And I answered: "I am not one of yours and I took care not to propagate my faith in exchange of goods, I am satisfied to indignate myself from the credulity without benefit from it." The damned strongly twisted his feet, then, pushing a whisper and, with a plaintive voice, he says to me: "What then, do you ask me? If as much as it bothers you to know who I am, that, for that, you descended this wall, know that I became a Pastor without having adorned the dress of the Pastor, and that my career destined me to wear another kind of dress, and that being so eloquent. that one appeared more lucrative to me, thus I was so covetous that I put in the bank, up there, richnesses and here, myself. Below my head are placed the other ones, hidden in the cracks of the large Salted Lake of "Havre aux Basques" who accompanied me by making Simony, in districts or underdeveloped countries and everywhere else where hope can make forget indigence." I do not know if then, I was not too bold to answer him with this tone: "He! tell me then! what treasure required Our Lord from Saint Peter before taking control of the keys? Admittedly, he did not ask him anything if not: "Follow me!" Neither Pierre nor the others took to Mathias gold or money. Then give up, because you are justly punished; and keep well the badly gained money which turned you so bold to usurp the clerical power. I could not used so hard words to describe your avarice which afflicts the world, misusing the faithful ones too credulous and who are too naive to avoid believing in you and which fattens you to hear you repeat to them. only what they want to hear, you afflict them with a wretched fate, to make spout out of them, fear at the same time as prodigality. It is you pastors, whom the angel of the Apocalypse saw, when he saw the Lady, who sits on the throne of the Capital, prostitute herself with the princes. What difference there is between you who adore gold and the idolatrous who adores the Golden calf?" I well believe that my words pleased my guide, so much he listened with a satisfies mood my words of truth. This is why he took me in his arms and pressed me against his chest, then he went up the path from where we descended. And he constantly pressed me against him until he had carried me at the top of the arch which makes it possible to pass from the Araynes, to "Gros-Cap" and by the fifth dam, towards Moisie. There, gently, he deposed this heavy burden on the hard and steep rock, which would be a difficult passage even for the steps of these giants, who populate this Shore up to the North of the Côte Nord and from there, another valley appeared to me.
Marco Polo ou le voyage imaginaire (La tragédie humaine, janvier 2000) © 1999 Jean-Pierre Lapointe
Theme musical: amber hill de Brian Bogovich, emprunté aux Classical Midi Archives.
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