Read Online By Night in Chile by Roberto Bolaño - Free Book Online
Authors: Roberto Bolaño
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St. Augustine, I read St. Thomas, I studied the lives of all the popes. And Farewell: Do you still remember those holy lives? And I: Indelibly etched. And Farewell: Who was Pius II? And I: Pius II, also known as Enea Silvio Piccolomini, born in the vicinity of Siena, Supreme Pontiff from 1458 to 1464, attended the Council of Basel, secretary to Cardinal Capranica, spent time in the service of the Antipope Felix V, then in the service of the Emperor Frederic III, who crowned him poet laureate, he wrote verse you see, lectured at the University of Vienna on the classical poets, published a novel in 1444, Euryalus and Lucretia , in the manner of Boccaccio, just a year after publishing the said work, in 1445, he was ordained a priest and his life took a new turn, he did penance, admitted the error of his ways, became Bishop of Siena in 1449 and cardinal in 1456, obsessed with the idea of launching a new crusade, in 1458 he published the bull Vocavit nos Pius , in which he summoned the unenthusiastic sovereigns to the city of Mantua, in vain, later an agreement was reached and it was decided that a three-year crusade would be undertaken, but no one paid much attention to the Pope’s grand words, until he let it be known that he was personally taking over command of the operation, Venice then forged an alliance with Hungary,
Skanderbeg attacked the Turks, Stephen the Great was proclaimed Atleta Cristi , and thousands of men flocked to Rome from all over Europe, only the kings remained indifferent and unresponsive, so the Pope made a pilgrimage first to Assisi and then to Ancona, where the Venetian fleet was late to meet him, and when the Venetian warships finally arrived, the Pope was dying, and he said “Until this day I was wanting for a fleet, now the fleet must want for me,”
and then he died and the crusade died with him. And Farewell said: So he screwed up, like a typical writer. And I: He protected Pinturicchio. And Farewell: And who the hell was he? And I: A painter. And Farewell: I guessed that much, but who was he? And I: The one who painted the frescoes in the cathedral at Siena. And Farewell: Have you been to Italy? And I: Yes. And Farewell:
Everything falls apart, time devours everything, beginning with Chileans. And I: Yes. And Farewell: Do you know the stories of other popes? And I: All of them.
And Farewell: What about Hadrian II? And I: Pope from 867 to 872, there’s an interesting story about him, when King Lothair II came to Italy, the Pope asked him if he had gone back to sleeping with Waldrada, who had been excommunicated by the previous pope Nicholas I, and then with trembling step Lothair approached the altar at Monte Cassino, which is where the meeting took place, and the Pope waited for him in front of the altar and the Pope was not trembling. And
Farewell: He must have been a bit scared all the same. And I: Yes. And Farewell: And the story of Pope Lando? And I: Little is known about him, except that he was Pope from 913 to 914, and that he gave the bishopric of Ravenna to one of Theodora’s protégés, who succeeded him on the papal throne. And Farewell: Funny name for a pope, Lando. And I: Yes. And Farewell: Look, the shadow play has finished. And I: Yes, you’re right, so it has. And Farewell: How odd, I wonder what could have happened? And I: We’ll probably never know. And Farewell: The shadows are gone, the rushing is gone, that feeling of being caught in a
photographic negative is gone, was it just a dream? And I: We’ll probably never know. And Farewell paid for the meal, and I accompanied him to his door, but did not want to go in, because everything was foundering, as the poet says, and then I was walking alone through the streets of Santiago, thinking of Alexander III and Urban IV and Boniface VIII, while a fresh breeze caressed my face, trying to wake me up properly, but still I cannot have been properly awake, for deep in my brain I could hear the voices of the popes, like the
Skanderbeg attacked the Turks, Stephen the Great was proclaimed Atleta Cristi , and thousands of men flocked to Rome from all over Europe, only the kings remained indifferent and unresponsive, so the Pope made a pilgrimage first to Assisi and then to Ancona, where the Venetian fleet was late to meet him, and when the Venetian warships finally arrived, the Pope was dying, and he said “Until this day I was wanting for a fleet, now the fleet must want for me,”
and then he died and the crusade died with him. And Farewell said: So he screwed up, like a typical writer. And I: He protected Pinturicchio. And Farewell: And who the hell was he? And I: A painter. And Farewell: I guessed that much, but who was he? And I: The one who painted the frescoes in the cathedral at Siena. And Farewell: Have you been to Italy? And I: Yes. And Farewell:
Everything falls apart, time devours everything, beginning with Chileans. And I: Yes. And Farewell: Do you know the stories of other popes? And I: All of them.
And Farewell: What about Hadrian II? And I: Pope from 867 to 872, there’s an interesting story about him, when King Lothair II came to Italy, the Pope asked him if he had gone back to sleeping with Waldrada, who had been excommunicated by the previous pope Nicholas I, and then with trembling step Lothair approached the altar at Monte Cassino, which is where the meeting took place, and the Pope waited for him in front of the altar and the Pope was not trembling. And
Farewell: He must have been a bit scared all the same. And I: Yes. And Farewell: And the story of Pope Lando? And I: Little is known about him, except that he was Pope from 913 to 914, and that he gave the bishopric of Ravenna to one of Theodora’s protégés, who succeeded him on the papal throne. And Farewell: Funny name for a pope, Lando. And I: Yes. And Farewell: Look, the shadow play has finished. And I: Yes, you’re right, so it has. And Farewell: How odd, I wonder what could have happened? And I: We’ll probably never know. And Farewell: The shadows are gone, the rushing is gone, that feeling of being caught in a
photographic negative is gone, was it just a dream? And I: We’ll probably never know. And Farewell paid for the meal, and I accompanied him to his door, but did not want to go in, because everything was foundering, as the poet says, and then I was walking alone through the streets of Santiago, thinking of Alexander III and Urban IV and Boniface VIII, while a fresh breeze caressed my face, trying to wake me up properly, but still I cannot have been properly awake, for deep in my brain I could hear the voices of the popes, like the
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