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DISCOURSE UPON THE ESSENCE AND FORM OFPOETRY [1]

Messieurs:

Before publishing the translation of theGolden Versesof Pythagoras, such as I have made it, in French verse whichI have designated by theexpression(eumolpique),[2]I wouldhave liked to be able to submit it to you and thus be enlightenedby your counsels or sustained by your approbation;but academic laws and usages, whose justice I have felt,have prevented my enjoying this advantage. The innovation,however, which I have endeavoured to make inFrench poetry and the new explanation which I have triedto give of one of the most celebrated pieces of Greekpoetry, have seemed to me to hold too closely to your laboursand to enter too deeply into your literary provinces, forme to believe myself able to dispense with calling yourattention to them. I crave your indulgence, if in thedemonstration of a just deference to your judgment Iinvoluntarily neglect certain formalities; and I beg you tojudge the purity of my intentions.

I claim not to be a poet; I had even long ago renouncedthe art of verse, but notwithstanding that, I am now presentingmyself in the poetic career to solicit the hazardoussuccess of an innovation! Is it the love of glory whichinspires in me this temerity, which dazzles me today asmy autumn advances, whereas it was unable to move mewhen the effervescence of my springtime ought to havedoubled its strength? No: however flattering the wreathsthat you award to talent, they would not concern me; andif an interest, as new as powerful, had not induced me toaddress you, I would keep silent. This interest,Messieurs,is that which science itself inspires in me, and the desire,perhaps inconsiderate but commendable, of co-operating withmy limited ability for the development of a language whoseliterary and moral influence, emerging from the bourns ofEurope and the present century, ought to invade the worldand become universal like the renown of the hero whoextends his conquests with those of the empire whosefoundations he has laid.

I feel,Messieurs, that I should explain my thought.My assertion, well founded as it may be, appears none theless extraordinary, and I am bound to admit this. Thedisfavour which is attached to all new ideas, to all innovations,the just defiance that they inspire, the element ofridicule that springs from their downfall, would have arrestedmy audacity, if I had had audacity alone, and if theworthy ambition of effecting a general good had not raisedme above a particular evil which might have resulted for me.Besides I have counted upon the judicious good-will of thetwo illustrious Academies to which I am addressing myself:I have thought that they would distinguish in the versewhich I am presenting for their examination, both as ameans of execution in French poetry and as a means oftranslation in ancient and foreign poetry, the real utilitythat they can offer, of the fortuitous beauty which theylack, and which a more capable hand would have been ableto give them; I flatter myself, at length, that they wouldgrant to the end, without prejudice, the attention which isnecessary, and that if they refused an entire approbation tomy efforts, they would at least render justice to my zeal andcommend the motives which have made me attempt them.

§ I

When, after the revival of letters in Europe, ChancellorBacon, legislator of thought, sketched with bold strokes thetree of human knowledge, and brought back each branchof science to that of the moral faculties upon which it depends,he did not fail to observe sagaciously that it wasnecessary to distinguish in poetry two things, its essenceand its form [3]:its essence as pertaining wholly to the imagination,and composing by itself alone one of the principalbranches of science [4];its form, as making part of the grammar,and entering thus into the domain of philosophy andinto the rational faculty of theunderstanding.[5]Thiscelebrated man had borrowed this idea from a man mucholder and more celebrated than himself, Plato. Accordingto this admirable philosopher, poetry is either a simpletalent, an art which one uses to give to his own ideas aparticular form, or it is a divine inspiration by means ofwhich one clothes in the human language and transmitsto men the ideas of thegods.[6]It is because, never havingfelt sufficiently this important distinction and having confusedtwo ideas that ought to be separated, the essence andthe form of poetry, which are as the soul and body of thisscience, that so many men among the modern nations proclaimedthemselves poets, whereas they were, in strict truth,only clever versifiers. For it does not suffice, as Platoagain said, to have poetic talent, it does not suffice to makeverse and even good verse, to be called apoet [7];it is necessaryto possess that divine enthusiasm, that inspirationwhich elevates the soul, enlightens it, transports it, as itwere, to intellectual regions and causes it to draw from itssource the very essence of this science.

How they delude themselves, those who, habituallydeceived, foolishly imagine that the lofty fame of Orpheus,Homer, Pindar, Æschylus, or Sophocles and the immortalitywhich they enjoy, belongs only to the plan of their works,to the harmony of their verse, and to the happy use of theirtalent! These flattering appearances which constitute theform of their poetry would have disappeared long ago, theywould have become broken, like fragile vases, upon the torrentof centuries, if the intelligence which animated themhad not eternalized their duration. But this secret intelligencedoes not reside, as certain other superficial readerspersuade themselves, being still deceived, in the simpleinterest that the characters(mise en scène) inspire; this interest,which results from their contrast and from the shockof the passions, is another sort of form, more hidden, andless frail, than the former, it is true, but as variable generallyand subject to the great revolution of customs, laws, andusages. True poetry does not depend upon that; it dependsupon the primordial ideas which the genius of the poet inhis exaltation has seized in the intellectual nature, andwhich his talent has shown afterwards in the elementarynature, thus adapting the simulacra of physical things tothe movement inspired by the soul, instead of adaptingthis movement to those same simulacra, as those whowrite history. This is what Bacon, the modern philosopherwhom I have already cited, has felt soperfectly.[8]He says:

As the sentient world is inferior to the human soul, it is forpoetry to give to this nature what reality has refused it, lendingto it the faculties of the intellectual world; and as the acts andevents which make the subject of true history have not thatgrandeur and that sublimity for which the human soul seeks,it is necessary that poetry create acts and events greater andmore heroic. All must be increased and embellished by itsvoice and receive from it a new existence; it is necessary eventhat virtue shine with an(éclat) more pure; that the veil whichcovers truth be lifted from its eyes and that the course of Providence,better discerned, be allowed to penetrate into the mostsecret causes of events.

The philosopher who expressed thus his thought regardingthe essence of poetry, was far from believing, as the vulgarhave always believed, and as certain modern writershave wished to convince thesavants,[9]that, of the two partsof poetry, the positive form might be the only genuine;that is to say, that they do not by any means consider thatthe human characters put upon the stage by the poetswhom I have just named, were historic characters. Baconunderstood well that Achilles, Agamemnon, Ulysses, Castorand Pollux, Helen, Iphigenia, Œdipus, Phædra, etc., aresomewhat more than they appear to be, and that theirvirtues or their vices, their heroic actions, even their crimes,celebrated by poetry, contain a profound meaning whereinlie buried the mysteries of religion and the secrets ofphilosophy.[10]

It belongs only to the men to whom poetry is known byits exterior forms alone and who have never penetrated asfar as its essence, to imagine that a small city of Asia, unknownto all Asia, around which the King of kings of Greecewaited in vain for ten years to avenge the honour of hisbrother betrayed by his wife, should be able during threethousand years to occupy the greatest minds of Europe,on account of a quarrel which was raised in the tenth yearof the siege, between this King of kings and a petty princeof his army, angry and sulky, named Achilles. It is onlypermitted to the phlegmatic chronologists, whom the museshave never visited in their studies, to seek seriously to fixthe year and the day when this quarrel took place. A man,strongly imbued with the spirit of Homer or of Sophocles,would never see in Ulysses a real man, a king who, returningto his isle after long wanderings, kills in cold blood acrowd of lovers of his wife and rests confident of the conjugalfidelity of that spouse abandoned for twenty years,and whom he had won in thecourse,[11]although, accordingto the most common reports, she was delivered of a son inhis absence [12];nor in Œdipus, another king, who, withoutknowing it, without wishing it, always innocent, kills hisfather, espouses his mother and, driven to parricide andincest by an irresistible destiny, tears out his eyes and condemnshimself to wander over the earth, to be a frightfulexample of celestial wrath. The platitudes and ridiculeof the deed related by Homer, and the horror which resultedfrom that presented on the stage by Sophocles, are sufficientevidence against their reality. If the poem of the one andthe tragedy of the other do not conceal, under the coarseexterior which covers them, a secret fire which acts unknownto the reader, never would a sane man tolerate a presentation,on the one side, of vice changed into virtue, and on theother, virtue changed into vice, and the gods operating thisstrange metamorphosis against all the laws of naturaljustice. He would throw aside the book with disgust, or,agreeing with the judicious reflection of an ancient Greekwriter, exclaim withhim [13]:

If Homer had merely thought with respect to the gods whathe said, he would have been an impious, sacrilegious man, averitable Salmoneus, a second Tantalus; but let us guard againstdoing him this wrong, or taking for guides those who, misunderstandingthe allegorical genius of this great poet, and hesitatingbefore the outer court of his mysterious poetry, have never succeededin understanding the sublime philosophy which is enclosedtherein.

You are not,Messieurs, of those designated by Heraclidesin the words I have just quoted. Members of these celebratedAcademies where Homer and Sophocles have foundso many admirers, defenders, and illustrious disciples, youcan easily admit that I see in these great men more thanordinary poets, that I place their glory elsewhere than intheir talent, and that I say, particularly of Homer, thathis most just claims to immortality are less in the form thanin the essence of his poetry, because a form, however admirableit may be, passes and yields to time which destroys it,whereas the essence or the spirit which animates it, immutableas the Divinity from which it emanates by inspiration,resists all vicissitudes and seems to increase in vigour and(éclat), in proportion as the centuries passing away reveal itsforce and serve as evidence of its celestial origin. I flattermyself that my sentiments in this regard are not foreignto yours and that the successors of Corneille, Racine, andBoileau hear with pleasure these eulogies given to the creatorof epopœia, to the founders of dramatic art, and agree withme in regarding them as particular organs of the Divinity,the instruments chosen for the instruction and civilizationof men.

If you deign,Messieurs, to follow the development ofmy ideas with as much attention as indulgence, you alreadyknow that what I call the essence or spirit of poetry, andwhich, following upon the steps of the founder of theAcademy and of the regenerator of the sciences of Europe, Idistinguish from its form, is no other thing than the allegoricalgenius, immediate production of the inspiration; youalso understand that I mean by inspiration, the infusionof this same genius into the soul which, having power onlyin the intellectual nature, is manifested in action by passinginto the elementary nature by means of the inner labour ofthe poet who invests it with a sentient form according tohis talent; you perceive finally, how, following this simpletheory, I explain the words of Plato, and how I conceivethat the inspired poet transmits to men the ideas of the gods.I have no need I think of telling you that I make an enormousdifference between this divine inspiration which exaltsthe soul and fills it with a real enthusiasm, and that sortof inner movement or disorder which the vulgar also callinspiration, which in its greatest perfection is only passion excitedby the love of glory, united with a habit of verse making,which constitutes the talent, and in its imperfection is onlya disordered passion called by Boileau, an ardour for rhyming.These two kinds of inspiration in no wise resembleeach other; their effects are as different as their causes,their productions as different as their sources. The one,issuing from the intellectual nature, has its immutability:it is the same in all time, among all peoples, and in the heartof all men who receive it; it alone produces genius: its firstmanifestation is very rare, but its second manifestation isless so, as I will show later on. The other inspiration, inherentin sentient nature, born of passion, varies with thewhim of men and things, and takes on the hue of the customsand the times; it can bring forth talent or at least modifyit, and when it is seconded by a great facility, can go to theextent of feigning genius but never farther: its real domainis the mind. Its possession is not very rare even in itsperfection. One can sometimes find it united with the trueinspiration, first as in Homer, or second as in Vergil; andthen the form which it unceasingly works over, joining itssentient beauties to the intellectual beauties of genius,creates the monuments of science.

It may be that the development which I have just givenof my ideas on the essence of poetry will appear new, althoughI must acknowledge that in reality they are not.I am addressing men who are too enlightened to ignore whatthe ancients have said in this respect. Heraclides, whomI have already cited, is not the only one who has given thisimpression. Strabo assures positively that ancient poetrywas only the language of allegory,[14]and he refutes Eratostheneswho pretended that the aim of Homer was only toamuse and please. In this he is in accord with Denys ofHalicarnassus who avows that the mysteries of nature andthe most sublime conceptions of morals have been coveredwith the veil ofallegory.[15]Phurnutus goes farther: hedeclares that the allegories used by Hesiod and by Homerdo not differ from those which other foreign poets have usedbefore them.[16]Damascius said as much of the poems ofOrpheus,[17]and Plutarch confirms it in a passage which hasbeen preserved to us by Eusebius.[18]

In the first ages of Greece, poetry, consecrated to theservice of the altars, left the enclosures of the temples onlyfor the instruction of the people: it was as a sacred languagein which the priests, entrusted with presiding at the mysteriesof religion, interpreted the will of the gods. Theoracles, dogmas, moral precepts, religious and civil laws,teachings of all sorts concerning the labours of the body, theoperations of the mind, in fact all that which was regardedas an emanation, an order, or a favour from the Divinity,all was written in verse. To this sacred language wasgiven the namePoetry, that is to say, the Language of theGods: a symbolic name which accords with it perfectly,since it expressed at the same time its origin andits usage.[19]It was said to have come fromThrace,[20]and the one who hadinvented it and caused its first accents to be heard wascalled Olen.[21]Now these are again two symbolic namesperfectly adapted to the idea that one had of this divinescience: it was descended fromThrace, that is to say, fromthe Ethereal Space; it wasOlen who had invented it, thatis to say, the UniversalBeing.[22]To understand these threeetymologies which can be regarded as the fundamentalpoints of the history of poetry, it is necessary to remember,first, that the Phœnicians, at the epoch when they coverednot only Greece but the coasts of the rest of Europe withtheir colonies, brought there their language, and gave theirnames to the countries of which they had taken possession;secondly, that these names drawn almost always from objectssymbolic of their cult, constituted for these countriesa sort of sacred geography, which Greece above all others,was faithful inpreserving.[23]It was thus (for there is nothingunder the sun which cannot find either its model or its copy)when the Europeans took possession of America and colonizedit, and carried to those regions their diverse dialectsand covered it with names drawn from the mysteries ofChristianity. One ought therefore, when one wishes to understandthe ancient names of the countries of Greece, those oftheir heroic personages, those of the mysterious subjects oftheir cult, to have recourse to the Phœnician dialect whichalthough lost to us can easily be restored with the aid ofHebrew, Aramaic, Chaldean, Syriac, Arabic, and Coptic.

I do not intend,Messieurs, to fatigue you with proofs ofthese etymologies which are not in reality the subject ofmy discourse. I am content to place them on the marginfor the satisfaction of the curious. Thus I shall make useof them later, when occasion demands. But to return toThrace, this country was always considered by the Greeksas the place peculiar to their gods and the centre of theircult; the divine country,par excellence. All the names thatit has borne in different dialects and which in the courseof time have become concentrated in particular regions,have been synonyms of theirs. Thus, Getæ, Mœsia, Dacia,all signify the country of thegods.[24]Strabo, in speakingof the Getæ, said that these peoples recognized a sovereignpontiff to whom they gave the title of God, the dignity ofwhich existed still in histime.[25]This sovereign pontiffresided upon a mountain that d’Anville believes he hasrecognized, between Moldavia and Transylvania. TheThracians had also a sovereign pontiff instituted in thesame manner as that of the Getæ, and residing likewiseupon a sacredmountain.[26]It was, no doubt, from theheights of these mountains that the divine oracles, the lawsand teachings which the great pontiffs had composed inverse, were at first spread throughout Greece; so that itmight be said, literally as well as figuratively, that poetry,revered as the language of the gods, production of an EternalBeing, descended from the ethereal abode and was propagatedupon earth for the instruction and delight of mortals.It appears to me very certain that the temple of Delphi,erected upon the famous mountain of Parnassus, differednot essentially at first from those of Thrace; and whatconfirms me in this idea is that, according to an ancienttradition, it was Olen who, coming out from Lycia, that isto say from the light, caused all Greece to recognize thecult of Apollo and Diana; composed the hymns which werechanted at Delos in honour of these two divinities and establishedthe temple of Delphi of which he was the first pontiff.[27]Thus the temple of Delphi rivalled those of Thrace. Itsfoundation, doubtless due to some innovator priest, wasattributed by a poetic metaphor to the divinity which hadinspired it. At that time a schism arose and two cultswere formed, that of the Thracians consecrated to Bacchusand Ceres, or Dionysus the divine spirit, and Demeter theearth-mother [28];and that of the Greeks, properly speaking,consecrated to the sun and the moon, adored under thenames of Apollo and Diana. It is to this schism that oneshould ascribe the famous dispute which was raised, it issaid, between Bacchus and Apollo concerning the possessionof the tripod ofDelphi.[29]The poetic fable woven from thissubject was made to preserve the remembrance of themoral incident and not of the physical event; for at thisremote epoch, when verse only was written, history, everallegorical, treated only of moral and providential matters,disdaining all physical details deemed little worthy ofoccupying the memory of men.

However that may be, it appears certain, notwithstandingthis schism, that the cult of the Thracians dominated Greecefor a long time. The new source of poetry opened at Delphiand on Mount Parnassus, destined in time to become socelebrated, remained at first somewhat unknown. It isworthy of observation that Hesiod, born in the village ofAscra, a short distance from Delphi, makes no mentioneither of the oracle or of the temple of Apollo. All that hesaid of this city, which he named Pytho, has reference tothe stone which Saturn had swallowed, believing to devourhis son.[30]Homer does not mention this Pytho in theIliad;he mentions in theOdyssey an oracle delivered by Apolloupon Parnassus. For a long time, the peoples of Greece,accustomed to receive from the ancient mountains of Thraceboth their oracles and their instructions, turned towardthat country and neglected the new sacred mount. Thisis why the most ancient traditions place in Thrace,with the supremacy of cult and sacerdotalism, the cradleof the most famous poets and that of the Muses whohad inspired them: Orpheus, Musæus, Thamyris, andEumolpus were Thracians. Pieria, where the Museswere born, was a mountain of Thrace; and when, atlength, it was a question of rendering to the gods a severeand orthodox cult, it was said that it was necessary toimitate the Thracians, or, as one would say in French,thraciser.[31]

Besides it must be observed, that at the epoch whenthe temple of Delphi was founded, the new cult, presentedto the Greeks under the name of the universal Olen, tendedto unite Apollo and Diana, or the sun and the moon, underthe same symbolic figure, and to make of it only oneand the same object of adoration, under the name ofŒtolinos,that is to say,Sun-moon.[32]It was proclaimed thatthe middle of the earth, its paternal and maternal umbilicus,was found placed exactly on the spot where the new sacredcity was built, which was called for this mystical reasonDelphi.[33]But it seems that the universality of this Œtolinoswas never well understood by the Greeks, who, in theirminds, united only with difficulty that which custom andtheir senses had taught them to separate. Moreover onecan well conjecture that, as in all religious schisms, a hostof difficulties and contradictory opinions were raised. IfI can believe the sacerdotal traditions of India, that I encounter,the greatest difficulty was, not knowing whichsex dominated in this mysterious being whose essence wascomposed of the sun and moon and whose hermaphroditicumbilicus was possessed in Delphi. This insoluble questionhad more than once divided mankind and stained the earthwith blood. But here is not the place to touch upon one ofthe most important and most singular facts of the historyof man. I have already deviated too much from my subject,and I return to it asking pardon of my judges for thisnecessary digression.

§ II

Poetry, transported with the seat of religion from themountains of Thrace to those of Phocis, lost there, asdid religion, its primitive unity. Not only did each sovereignpontiff use it to spread his dogmas, but the opposedsects born of the rending of the cult, vying with each other,took possession of it. These sects, quite numerous, personifiedby the allegorical genius which presided over poetry,and which, as I have said, constituted its essence, wereconfused with the mind which animated them and wereconsidered as a particular being. Thence, so many of thedemi-gods, and the celebrated heroes, from whom the Greektribes pretended to have descended; thence, so many ofthe famous poets to whom were attributed a mass of worksthat emanated from the same sanctuary, or were composedfor the support of the same doctrine. For it is well toremember that the allegorical history of these remote times,written in a different spirit from the positive history whichhas succeeded it, resembled it in no way, and that it is inhaving confused them that so many grave errors have arisen.It is a very important observation that I again make here.This history, confided to the memory of men or preservedamong the sacerdotal archives of the temples in detachedfragments of poetry, considered things only from the moralside, was never occupied with individuals, but saw only themasses; that is to say, peoples, corporations, sects, doctrines,even arts and sciences, as so many particular beings thatit designated by a generic name. It is not that these masseswere unable to have a chief to direct their movements, butthis chief, regarded as the instrument of a certain mind,was neglected by history which attached itself to the mindonly. One chief succeeded another without allegoricalhistory making the least mention of it. The adventuresof all were accumulated upon the head of one alone. Itwas the moral thing whose course was examined, whosebirth, progress, or downfall was described. The successionof things replaced that of individuals. Positive history,which ours has become, follows a method entirely different.The individuals are everything for it: it notes with scrupulousexactitude dates and facts which the other scorns.I do not pronounce upon their common merit. The modernswould mock that allegorical manner of the ancients, if theycould believe it possible, as I am persuaded the ancientswould have mocked the method of the moderns, had theybeen able to foresee its possibility in the future. Howapprove of what is unknown? Man approves of only whathe likes; he always believes he knows all that he ought tolike.

I can say, after having repeated this observation, thatthe poet Linus, who is regarded as the author of all themelancholy chants of the ancient world, represents nothingless than lunar poetry detached from the doctrine of Œtolinos,of which I have spoken, and considered as schismaticby the Thracians; I can also say, that the poet Amphion,whose chants were, on the contrary, so powerful and sovirile, typifies the orthodox solar poetry, opposed by thesesame Thracians; whereas the prophet Thamyris, who, it issaid, celebrated in such stately verse the creation of theworld and the war of theTitans,[34]represents quite plainlythe universal doctrine of Olen, re-established by his followers.The name of Amphion signifies the orthodox ornational voice of Greece; that of Thamyris, the twin lightsof the gods.[35]One feels, accordingly, that the evils whichcame to Linus and to Thamyris, one of whom was killed byHercules,[36]and the other deprived of sight by theMuses,[37]are, in reality, only some sort of criticism or unfortunateincident sustained by the doctrines which they represented,on account of the opposition of the Thracians. What Ihave said concerning Linus, Amphion, and Thamyris, canbe applied to the greater part of the poets who precededHomer, and Fabricius names seventy ofthese [38];one couldalso extend it to Orpheus, but only on a certain side; foralthough it may be very true, that no positive detail ispossessed regarding the character of the celebrated man,founder or propagator of the doctrine which has borne thisname; although it may be very true, that all that concernshis birth, his life, and his death is completely unknown, itis none the less certain that this man has existed, that he hasbeen actually the head of a very extended sect, and that theallegorical fables which remain to us on this subject depict,more particularly than they have done with anyother, the course of his thoughts and the success of hisinstitutions.

Orpheus belongs, on the one side, to anterior times, andon the other, to times merely ancient. The epoch when heappeared is the line of demarcation between pure allegoryand mixed allegory, the intelligible and the sentient. Hetaught how to ally the rational faculty with the imaginativefaculty. The science which was a long time aftercalledphilosophy, originated with him. He laid its firstbasis.

One should guard against believing, following in thefootsteps of certain historians deceived by the meaning ofallegorical fables, that when Orpheus appeared, Greece,still barbarous, offered only the traces of a civilization hardlyoutlined, or that the ferocious animals, tamed by the charmof his poetry, should represent, in effect, the inhabitants ofthis beautiful country. Men capable of receiving a cultso brilliant as that of Orpheus, a doctrine so pure, andmysteries so profound; men who possessed a language soformed, so noble, so harmonious as that which served thatinspired man to compose his hymns, were far from beingignorant and savage to this degree. It is not true, as hasbeen said and repeated without examination, that poetryhad its birth in the forests, in regions rough and wild, norabove all, that it may be the concomitant of the infancyof the nations and the first stammerings of the human mind.Poetry, on the contrary, having attained its perfection, indicatesalways a long existence among the peoples, a civilizationvery advanced and all the splendour of a virile age.The sanctuary of the temple is its true cradle. Glanceover the savage world and see if the Iroquois or the Samoyedshave a poetry. Have the peoples who were found in theirinfancy in the isles of the Pacific shown you hymns likethose of Orpheus, epic monuments like the poems of Homer?Is it not known that the Tartars who have subjugatedAsia, those proud Manchus who today reign over China,have never been able to derive from their language, rebelliousto all kinds of melody and rhythm, a singleverse,[39]although since their conquests they have felt and appreciatedthe charms of thisart?[40]

Bears and lions, tamed and brought nearer together byOrphic poetry, have no reference to men, but to things:they are the symbols of rival sects which, imbibing theirhatred at the very foot of the altars, diffused it over allthat surrounded them and filled Greece with troubles.

For a long time this country was a prey to the doublescourge of religious and political anarchy. In detachingherself from the cult of the metropolis, she also detachedherself from its government. Once a colony of the Phœnicians,she had thrown off their yoke, not however spontaneouslyand(en masse), but gradually, over and over again;so that there were twenty rival temples, twenty rival cities,twenty petty peoples divided by rite, by civil interest, andby the ambition of the priests and princes who governedthem. The Thracians, remaining faithful to the ancientlaws, were styled superstitious or enslaved, whereas theinnovators and the insurgents were considered, by theThracians and often by themselves, schismatics and rebels.Phœnicia had vainly wished to oppose this general desertion.Asia came to experience the most terrible shocks.India, which had long held the sceptre there, was buriedfor fifteen hundred years in herKali-youg, or her age ofdarkness, and offered only the shadow of her ancientsplendour.[41]For fifteen centuries she had lost her unity by theextinction of her imperial dynasties. Many rival kingdomswere formed,[42]whose constant quarrels had left themneither the leisure nor the possibility of watching over andsupporting their colonies from afar. The gradual loweringof the Mediterranean, and the alluvial deposit of the shoresof Egypt raising the Isthmus ofSuez,[43]had cut off all communicationbetween this sea and the Red Sea, and, by barriersdifficult to surmount, separated the primitive Phœnicians,established upon the shores of the Indian Ocean, from thoseof Palestine.[44]The meridional Arabs were separated fromthe septentrional, and both had broken with the Indiansto whom they had formerlybelonged.[45]Tibet had adopteda particular cult and form ofgovernment.[46]Persia hadbeen subject to the empire of theAssyrians.[47]At last thepolitical ties which united all these states, and which onceformed only a vast group under the domination of theIndian monarchs, had become relaxed or broken on allsides. Egypt, long subject to the Philistines, known underthe name of Shepherds, came at length to drive them out,and emerging from her lethargy prepared herself to seizethe influence which Asia had allowed toescape.[48]Alreadythe most warlike of her kings, Sethos, had extended hisempire over both Libya and Arabia; Phœnicia and Assyriahad been subjugated; he had entered triumphant intoBabylon and was seated upon the throne ofBelus.[49]Hewould not have hesitated to attempt the conquest of Greece,if he had been able as easily to lead his army there; but itwas difficult for him to create a marine force, and aboveall to overcome the invincible repugnance that the Egyptianshad for the sea.[50]Obliged to employ the Phœnicians,his ancient enemies, he was able to draw from them onlymediocre service. In spite of these obstacles and the stubbornresistance of the Greeks, he succeeded neverthelessin making some conquests and forming some partial settlements.Athens, so celebrated later, was one of the principalones.[51]

These events, these revolutions, calamitous in appearance,were in reality to produce great benefits. Greece, alreadyimpregnated with the learning of the Phœnicians,which she had obtained and elaborated, afterward receivedthat of the Egyptians and elaborated it still further. A manborn in the heart of Thrace, but carried in his childhoodinto Egypt through the desire forknowledge,[52]returned tohis country with one of the Egyptian colonies, to kindlethere the new light. He was initiated into all the mysteriesof religion and science: he surpassed, said Pausanias, allthose who had preceded him, by the beauty of his verse,the sublimity of his chants, and the profoundness of hisknowledge in the art of healing and of appeasing thegods.[53]This was Orpheus: he took this name from that of hisdoctrine [54]which aimed to cure and to save by knowledge.

I should greatly overstep the limits that I have prescribedfor this discourse if I should recall in detail all thatGreece owed to this celebrated man. The mythologicaltradition has consecrated in a brilliant allegory the effortswhich he made to restore to men the truth which theyhad lost. His love for Eurydice, so much sung by thepoets, is but the symbol of the divine science for which helonged.[55]The name of this mysterious spouse, whom hevainly wished to return to the light, signified only the doctrineof the true science, the teaching of what is beautifuland veritable, by which he tried to enrich the earth. Butman cannot look upon the face of truth before attaining theintellectual light, without losing it; if he dare to contemplateit in the darkness of his reason, it vanishes. This iswhat the fable, which everyone knows, of Eurydice, foundand lost, signifies.

Orpheus, who felt by his own experience, perhaps, thegreat disadvantage that he had here, of presenting thetruth to men before they might be in condition to receiveit, instituted the divine mysteries; an admirable schoolwhere the initiate, conducted from one degree to another,slowly prepared and tried, received the share of light inproportion to the strength of his intelligence, and gentlyenlightened, without risk of being dazzled, attained tovirtue, wisdom, and truth. There has been but one opinionin antiquity concerning the utility of the mysteries,before dissolution had stained its precincts and corruptedits aim. All the sages, even Socrates, have praised thisinstitution,[56]the honour of which has been constantly attributedto Orpheus.[57]It is not improbable that this sagehad found the model in Egypt and that he himself had beeninitiated, asMoses [58]and Pythagoras [59]had been before andafter him; but in this case an imitation was equivalent toa creation.

I have said that after the appearance of Orpheus, poetryhad lost its unity: as divided as the cult, it had sustainedits vicissitudes. Entirely theosophical in its principle, andcalm as the Divinity which inspired it, it had taken in themidst of the opposed sects a passionate character whichit had not had previously. The priests, who used it touphold their opinions, had found, instead of the real inspiration,that sort of physical exaltation which results from thefire of passions, whose movement and fleeting splendourentrance the vulgar. Vying with each other they hadbrought forth a mass of theological systems, had multipliedthe allegorical fables concerning the universe, and haddrowned, as it were, the unity of the Divinity in the vainand minute distinction of its infinite faculties; and as eachcomposed in his own dialect and in pursuance of his owncaprice, each devised unceasingly new names for the samebeings, according as they believed they caught a glimpse ofa certain new virtue in these beings that another had notexpressed, it came to pass that not only were the gods multipliedby the distinction of their faculties, but still more bythe diversity of names employed in expressing them. Verysoon there was not a city nor a town in Greece, that did nothave, or at least believed that it had, its own particulargod. If one had carefully examined this prodigious numberof divinities, one would have clearly seen that theycould be reduced, by elimination, to a small number andwould finally end by being mingled in a sole UniversalBeing; but that was very difficult for people, flattered, moreover,by a system which compared the condition of the godswith theirs, and offered them thus, protectors and patronsso much the more accessible as they were less occupiedand less powerful.[60]Vainly, therefore, the Egyptian colonyestablished at Athens presented to the adoration of thispeople imbued with the prejudice of polytheism, the sovereignof the gods under the title of theMost-High [61];theveneration of this people was turned wholly towards Minerva,who became its patron under the name ofAthena,[62]as Juno was that of Argos,[63]Ceres, that of Eleusis, Phigalia,Methydrium,[64]etc.

Orpheus, instructed as was Moses, in the sanctuaries ofEgypt, had the same ideas as the legislator of the Hebrewsupon the unity of God, but the different circumstances inwhich he found himself placed did not permit him to divulgethis dogma; he reserved this for making it the basis of hismysteries, and continued, in the meantime, to personify inhis poetry the attributes of the Divinity. His institutions,drawn from the same source, founded upon the same truths,received the imprint of his character and that of the peopleto whom he had destined them. As those of Moses weresevere and, if one must admit, harsh in form, enemies of thesciences and arts, so those of Orpheus were brilliant, fittedto seduce the minds, favourable to all the developmentsof the imagination. It was beneath the allurements ofpleasure, of joy, and of(fêtes), that he concealed the utilityof his lessons and the depth of his doctrine. Nothing wasmore full of pomp than the celebration of its mysteries.Whatever majesty, force, and grace, poetry, music, andpainting had, was used to excite the enthusiasm of theinitiate.[65]He found no pretext advantageous enough, noform beautiful enough, no charm powerful enough to interestthe hearts and attract them toward the sublime truthswhich he proclaimed. These truths, whose force the earlyChristians have recognized,[66]went much further than thoseof which Moses had been the interpreter; they seemed toanticipate the times. Not only did he teach of the unityof God,[67]and give the most sublime ideas of this unfathomableBeing [68];not only did he explain the birth of the Universeand the origin of things [69];but he represented this uniqueGod under the emblem of a mysterious Trinity endowedwith three names [70];he spoke of the dogma which Platoannounced a long time after concerning the Logos, or theDivine Word; and, according to Macrobius, taught even itsincarnation or its union with matter, its death or its divisionin the world of sense, its resurrection or its transfiguration,and finally its return to the originalUnity.[71]

This inspired man, by exalting in Man the imagination,that admirable faculty which makes the charm of life, fetteredthe passions which trouble its serenity. Throughhim his disciples enjoyed the enthusiasm of the fine artsand he insisted that their customs should be pure andsimple.[72]The(régime) that he prescribed for them was that whichPythagoras introducedlater [73]. One of the most pleasingrewards which he offered to their endeavours, the very aimof their initiation into his mysteries, was, putting themselvesin communion with the gods [74];freeing themselvesfrom the cycle of generations, purifying their soul, and renderingit worthy of projecting itself, after the downfall of itscorporal covering toward its primal abode, to the realmsof light and happiness.[75]

Despite my resolution to be brief, I cannot resist thepleasure of speaking at greater length of Orpheus, and ofrecalling, as is my custom, things which, appearing todaywholly foreign to my subject, nevertheless, when examinedfrom my viewpoint, belong to it. Poetry was not at all inits origin what it became later, a simple accomplishment,regarded by those who profess to be savants as even ratherfrivolous [76];it was the language of the gods,(par excellence),that of the prophets, the ministers of the altars, the preceptorsand the legislators of the world. I rejoice to repeatthis truth, after rendering homage to Orpheus, to thisadmirable man, to whom Europe owes the(éclat) with whichshe has shone and with which she will shine a long time.Orpheus has been the real creator of poetry and ofmusic,[77]the father of mythology, of morals, and of philosophy: it ishe who has served as model for Hesiod and Homer, who hasillumined the footsteps of Pythagoras and Plato.

After having wisely accommodated the outward ceremoniesto the minds of the people whom he wished to instruct,Orpheus divided his doctrine into two parts, the onevulgar, and the other mysterious and secret, following inthis the method of the Egyptians, whose disciple he hadbeen [78];then, turning his attention to poetry, and seeinginto what chaos this science had fallen and the confusionthat had been made of divine and profane things, he judiciouslyseparated it into two principal branches, which heassigned, the one to theology, the other to natural philosophy.It can be said that he gave in each the preceptand the example. As sublime a theosophist as he wasprofound as a philosopher, he composed an immense quantityof theosophical and philosophical verses upon all sortsof subjects. Time has destroyed nearly all of them; buttheir memory has been perpetuated. Among the worksof Orpheus that were cited by the ancients and whose lossmust be deplored, were found, on the subject of theosophy,The Holy Word orThe SacredLogos,[79]by which Pythagorasand Plato profited much; theTheogony, which preceded thatof Hesiod more than five centuries;The Initiations to theMysteries of the Mother of theGods,[80]andThe Ritual of theSacrifices, wherein he had recorded, undoubtedly, the diversparts of his doctrine [81]:on the subject of philosophy, a celebratedcosmogony was found,[82]in which an astronomicalsystem was developed that would be an honour to ourcentury, touching the plurality of the worlds, the station ofthe sun at the centre of the universe, and the habitation ofthe stars.[83]These extraordinary works emanated from thesame genius who had written in verse upon grammar, music,natural history, upon the antiquities of the many isles ofGreece, upon the interpretation of signs and prodigies, anda mass of other subjects, the details of which one can seein the commencement of the Argonautica of Onomacritus,which is attributed to him.

But at the same time that Orpheus opened thus to hissuccessor two very distinct careers, theosophical and philosophical,he did not entirely neglect the other parts of thisscience: his hymns and his odes assigned him to a distinguishedrank among the lyric poets; hisDémétréïde presagedthe beauties of Epopœia, and the representations full ofpomp, that he introduced into his mysteries, gave birth toGreek Melopœia whence sprang dramatic art. He cantherefore be regarded, not only as the precursor of Hesiodand Epimenides, but even as that of Homer, Æschylus, andPindar. I do not pretend, in saying this, to take awayanything from the glory of these celebrated men: the onewho indicates a course, yields to the one who executes it:now this, especially, is what Homer did.

§ III

Homer was not the first epic poet in the order of time,but in the order of things. Before him many poetswere skilled in Epopœia; but no one had known the natureof this kind of poetry [84];no one had united the opposed qualitieswhich were necessary. There existed at this epoch amultitude of allegorical fables which had emanated atdivers times from different sanctuaries. These fables,committed at first to memory, had been collected in severalsets of works which were calledcycles.[85]There were allegorical,mythological, and epiccycles.[86]We know fromcertain precious texts of the ancients, that these sorts ofcollections opened generally with the description of Chaos,with the marriage of Heaven and Earth; contained thegenealogy of the Gods and the combats of the Giants;included the expedition of the Argonauts, the famous warsof Thebes and of Troy; extended as far as the arrival ofUlysses at Ithaca, and terminated with the death of thishero, caused by his sonTelegonus.[87]The poets who, beforeHomer, had drawn from these cycles the subject of theirworks, not having penetrated as far as the allegorical sense,lacking inspiration, or being found incapable of renderingit, lacking talent, had produced only cold inanimate copies,deprived of movement and grace. They had not, however,omitted any of the exploits of Hercules or of Theseus, norany of the incidents of the sieges of Thebes or Troy; andtheir muse, quite lifeless, fatigued the readers withoutinteresting or instructingthem.[88]Homer came. He, inhis turn, glanced over this pile of sacerdotal traditions,and raising himself by the force of his genius alone to theintellectual principle which had conceived them, he graspedthe(ensemble), and felt all its possibilities. The faculties ofhis soul and the precious gifts which he had received fromnature had made him one of those rare men who presentthemselves, at long intervals, upon the scene of the worldto enlighten it, shining in the depths of centuries and servingas torches for mankind. In whatever clime, in whatevercareer destiny had placed him, he would have been theforemost. Ever the same, whether under the thatched roofor upon the throne, as great in Egypt as in Greece, in theOccident as in the Orient of Asia, everywhere he had commandedadmiration. Some centuries earlier this same attributemight have been seen in Krishna or in Orpheus, somecenturies later, in Pythagoras or in Cyrus. Great men arealways great by their own greatness. Incidents whichdepend upon chance can only modify. Homer was destinedto poetry by favourable circumstances. Born upon theborders of the river Meles, of an indigent mother, withoutshelter and without kindred, he owed, to a schoolmaster ofSmyrna who adopted him, his early existence and his earlyinstructions. He was at first called Melesigenes, from theplace of hisbirth.[89]Pupil of Phemius, he received fromhis benevolent preceptor, simple but pure ideas, which theactivity of his soul developed, which his genius increased,universalized, and brought to their perfection. His education,begun with an assiduous and sedentary study, wasperfected through observation. He undertook long journeysfor the sole purpose of instructing himself. The politicalconditions, contrary to every other project, favouredhim.

Greece, after having shaken off the yoke of the Phœniciansand having become the friend of Egypt rather thanher subject, commenced to reap the fruits of the beautifulinstitutions that she had received from Orpheus. Powerfulmetropolises arose in the heart of this country, long regardedas a simple colony of Asia, and her native strength beingprogressively augmented by the habit of liberty, she hadneed of extending herselfabroad.[90]Rich with the increaseof population, she had reacted upon her ancient metropolis,had taken possession of a great number of cities on theopposite shores of Asia, and had colonizedthem.[91]Phœniciahumiliated, torn by internal dissensions,[92]tossed betweenthe power of the Assyrians and that of theEgyptians,[93]sawthis same Greece that she had civilized and to whom shehad given her gods, her laws, and even the letters of heralphabet, ignore, deny herbenefits,[94]take up arms againsther, carry away her colonies from the shores of Italy and ofSicily, and becoming mistress of the islands of the Archipelago,tear from her her sole remaining hope, the empire ofthe sea.[95]The people of Rhodes were overpowered.

Homer, of Greek nationality although born in Asia,profited by these advantages. He set sail in a vessel, whosepatron, Mentes of Leucas, was his friend, wandered overall the possessions of Greece, visitedEgypt,[96]and came tosettle at Tyre. This was the ancient metropolis of Greece,the source and sacred repository of her mythological traditions.It was there, in this same temple of the Master ofthe Universe,[97]where twelve centuries before Sanchoniathonhad come to study the antiquities of theworld,[98]that Homerwas able to go back to the origin of Greek cult and fathomthe most hidden meanings of itsmysteries [99];it was therethat he chose the first and noblest subject of his chants,that which constitutes the fable of theIliad.[100]If one mustbelieve in the very singular accounts which time has preservedto us, thanks to the blind zeal of certain Christianswho have treated them as heresies, this Helen, whose nameapplied to the moon signifies the resplendent, this womanwhom Paris carried away from her spouse Menelaus, isnothing else than the symbol of the humansoul,[101]torn bythe principle of generation from that of thought, on accountof which the moral and physical passions declare war. Butit would be taking me too far away from my subject, examiningin detail what might be the meaning of the allegoriesof Homer. My plan has not been to investigate this meaningin particular, but to show that it exists in general.Upon this point I have not only the rational proof whichresults from the concatenation of my ideas, but also proofof the fact, which is furnished to me by the testimonials ofthe ancients. These testimonials are recognized at everystep, in the works of the philosophers and chiefly in thoseof the Stoics. Only a very superficial erudition is necessaryto be convinced ofthis.[102]But I ought to make an observation,and this observation will be somewhat novel: it isthat, the poetic inspiration being once received by the poetand his soul finding itself transported into the intelligibleworld, all the ideas which then come to him are universaland in consequence allegorical. So that nothing true mayexist outside of unity, and as everything that is true is oneand homogeneous, it is found that, although the poet givesto his ideas a form determined in the sentient world, thisform agrees with a multitude of things which, being distinctin their species, are not so in their genus. This is whyHomer has been the man of all men, the type of all types,the faithful mirror,[103]wherein all ideas becoming reflectedhave appeared to be created. Lycurgus read his works,and saw there a model of hislegislation.[104]Pericles and Alcibiadeshad need of his counsels; they had recourse to himas a model of statesmen.[105]He was for Plato the first of thephilosophers, and for Alexander the greatest of kings; andwhat is more extraordinary still, even the sectarians, dividedamong themselves, were united in him. The Stoics spokeonly of this great poet as a rigid follower of thePorch [106];at the Academy he was considered as the creator of dialectics;at the Lyceum, the disciples of Aristotle cited him asa zealous dogmatist [107];finally, the Epicureans saw in himonly a man calm and pure, who, satisfied with that tranquillife where one is wholly possessed by it, seeks nothingmore.[108]The temples, which devout enthusiasm consecrated to him,were the rendezvous for mankind.[109]Such is the appanageof universal ideas: they are as the Divinity which inspiresthem, all in all, and all in the least parts.

If, at the distance where I am placed, I should dare,traversing the torrent of ages and opinions, draw near toHomer and read the soul of this immortal man, I would say,after having grasped in its entirety the allegorical geniuswhich makes the essence of poetry, in seeking to give to hisuniversal ideas a particular form, that his intention was topersonify and paint the passions, and that it was from thisthat epopœia had birth. I have not sufficient documentsto attest positively that the word by which one characterizesthis kind of poetry after Homer, did not exist beforehim; but I have sufficient to repeat that no one had as yetrecognized its realnature.[110]The poems of Corinna, ofDares, or of Dictys, were only simple extracts from themythological cycles, rude copies from certain theosophicalfragments denuded of life; Homer was the first who causedtheVoice of Impulse, that is to say Epopœia, to beunderstood [111]:that kind of poetry which results from intellectualinspiration united to the enthusiasm of the passions.

In order to attain to the perfection of this kind of poetry,it is necessary to unite to the imaginative faculty whichfeeds the genius, the reason which regulates the impulse,and the enthusiasm which inflames the mind and suppliesthe talent. Homer united them in the most eminentdegree. Thus he possessed the first inspiration and thecomplete science, as much in its essence as in its form; forthe poetic form is always dependent upon talent.

This form was then highly favourable to genius. TheGreek verse, measured by musical rhythm and filled with ahappy blending of long and short syllables, had long sinceshaken off the servile yoke of rhyme. Now, by rhythmwas understood the number and respective duration of thetime of which a verse wascomposed.[112]A long syllable wasequal to a time divided in two instants, and equivalent totwo short syllables. A foot was what we name today ameasure. The foot contained two times, made up of twolong, or of one long and two short syllables. The versemost commonly used was the hexameter, that is, that inwhich the extent was measured by six rhythmic feet andof which the whole duration was twelve times. Thus poetryreceived only the laws of rhythm; it was a kind of musicwhose particular harmony, free in its course, was subjectonly to measure.

I have never found any authentic evidence that theGreeks had ever used the rhyme in their verse. It is stated,however, that they have not differed from other nationsin this respect. Voltaire said so but withoutproof.[113]Whatis most certain is that, taking theword(epos),[114]a verse, inits most restricted acceptance, expressing a turn, a turningaround again, the early poets constructed their verse inform of furrows, going from right to left and returning fromleft to right.[115]Happily this(bizarrerie) did not last long.If the Greek verses had thus turned one upon another, orif the rhyme had forced them to proceed in couplets bentbeneath a servile yoke, Homer would not have created theEpopœia, or these frivolous obstacles would have vanishedbefore him. His genius, incapable of enduring chains, wouldhave refused to clothe itself in a form capable of stifling it.But this celebrated man would no doubt have changed it;one can judge by the energetic manner with which he attackedthat which he found in use. The Greek language,which preserved still in his time something of the Phœnicianstiffness and the Celtic roughness, obliged to adaptitself to all the movements of his imagination, became themost flexible and the most harmonious dialect of the earth.One is astonished, in reading his works, at the boldness ofhis composition.[116]One sees him without the least effort,bending words at his pleasure, lengthening them, shorteningthem to produce something new, reviving those no longerin use, uniting them, separating them, disposing of them inan unaccustomed order, forcing them to adapt themselveseverywhere to the harmony that he wishes to depict, tosentiments of elevation, of pleasure or terror, that hewishes to inspire.

Thus genius, dominating form, creates master-pieces;form, on the contrary, commanding genius, produces onlyworks of the mind. I must say finally and no longer veilfrom the attention of my judges, the aim of this discourse:whenever rhyme exists in the poetic form, it renders theform inflexible, it brings upon it only the effort of talentand renders that of intellectual inspiration useless. Neverwill the people who rhyme their verses attain to the heightof poetic perfection; never will real epopœia flourish in theirbreasts. They will hear neither the accents inspired byOrpheus, nor the stirring and impassioned harmonies ofHomer. Far from drawing the allegorical genius at itssource and receiving the first inspiration, it will not evenrecognize the second one. Its poets will polish painfullycertain impassioned or descriptive verses, and will callbeautiful the works which will only be well done. A rapidglance over the poetic condition of the earth will prove whatI have advanced. But I ought to explain beforehand whatI understand by first and second inspiration; the momenthas arrived for holding to the promise that I made at thebeginning of this discourse.

§ IV

You recall,Messieurs, that wishing, with ChancellorBacon, to distinguish the essence and the form ofPoetry, I have taken my text from the works of Plato. Itis again from this man, justly called divine even by hisrivals, from the founder of the Academy, that I have borrowedthe germ of my idea. This philosopher comparesthe effect which the real poets have upon those who hearthem, with the magnetic stone which not only attractsrings of iron, but communicates to them also the virtue ofattracting otherrings.[117]

In order to appreciate well the force of this thought, andto follow all the inferences, it is necessary to state a truthde facto: namely, that the men destined by Providence toregenerate the world, in whatever manner it may be, toopen any sort of a career, are extremely rare. Nature,docile to the impulse which she has received of bringing allto perfection by means of time, elaborates slowly the elementsof their genius, places them at great distances uponthe earth, and makes them appear at epochs very far removedone from the other. It is necessary that theseevents, which determine these men toward an end, shouldbe brought about in advance; that the physical conditionsin which they are born coincide with the inspiration whichattends them; and therefore everything prepares, everythingprotects, everything serves the providential design.These men, thus scattered over the earth, come amongnations to form them, to give them laws, to enlighten andto instruct them. They are the beacon-lights of mankind;these are those to whom I attribute the first inspiration.This inspiration is immediate; it emanates from the firstprinciple of all intelligence, in the same manner, to use thecomparison of Plato, that the magnetic force which animatesthe loadstone, emanates from its cause. It is profoundlyhidden from our eyes: it is this which fires the genius of atheosophist such as Thoth, Orpheus, and Zoroaster; thegenius of a theocrat, such as Krishna, Moses, or Mohammed;the genius of a philosopher, such as Kong-Tse, Pythagoras,or Socrates; the genius of a poet, such as Homer or Valmiki;and of a triumphant hero, such as Cyrus, Alexander, orNapoleon.

Those who follow in the footprints of these primordialmen, who allow themselves to be impressed by their genius,receive what I call the second inspiration. They can stillbe great men; for those who assist them are very great;they can also communicate the inspiration, for it acts inthem with an exuberant force. Let us confine ourselvesto the poetic inspiration and listen to the voice of Plato:

The Muse inspires the poets directly, and these, communicatingto others their enthusiasm, form a chain of inspired men. Itis by means of this chain that the Divinity attracts the soulsof men, and moves them at his pleasure, causing his virtue topass from link to link, from the first inspired poet to the lastof his readers or hisrhapsodists.[118]

It is by means of this magnetic chain that one can, inanother sphere of movement, explain this truth so wellknown, that great kings make great men; it is also in thismanner that one can understand how a monarch, called tofound a vast empire, makes his will penetrate all hearts,take possession of all souls, and propagating his valour moreand more, electrify his army and fill it with a multitude ofheroes.

Homer received therefore a first inspiration; he wascreated to become the poetic motive of Europe, the principleof a magnetized chain which, appropriating unceasingly newlinks, was to cover Europe with its numberless extensions.His first conquests were in Greece. His verses, carried fromcity to city by actors known under the name ofrhapsodists,[119]excited the keenest enthusiasm; they passed soon frommouth to mouth, fixed the attention of legislators, were theornament of the most brilliantfêtes,[120]and became everywherethe basis of publicinstruction.[121]The secret flame whichthey concealed, becoming developed in young souls, warmedthere the particular germ which they possessed, and accordingto their divers specie and the fertility of the soil,brought forth many talents.[122]The poets who were foundendowed with a genius vast enough to receive the secondinspiration in its entirety, imitated their model and raisedthemselves to epopœia. Antimachus and Dicæogenes arenoticeable, the one for his Thebaïs, and the other for hiscyprien verses.[123]Those to whom nature had given passionsmore gentle than violent, more touching than vehement,inclinations more rustic than bellicose, whose souls containedmore sensitiveness than elevation, were led to copy certainisolated groups of this vast tableau, and placing them,following their tastes, in the palace or in the thatched cottage,caused accents of joy or of sorrow, the plaints of heroes orthe sports of shepherds to be heard, and thus created elegy,eclogue, or idyl.[124]Others, on the contrary, whose too vehemententhusiasm shortened the duration of it, whose keenfiery passions had left little empire for reason, who allowedthemselves to be drawn easily toward the object of whichthey were momentarily captive, created the ode, dithyramb,or song, according to the nature of their genius and the objectof their passion. These were more numerous than all theothers together, and the women who were here distinguished,rivalled and even surpassed the men; Corinna and Myrtisdid not yield either toStesićhorus,[125]or to Pindar; Sapphoand Telesilla effaced Alcæus andAnacreon.[126]

It is said that the art with which Homer had put intoaction gods and men, had opposed heaven and earth, anddepicted the combats of the passions; this art, being joinedto the manner in which the rhapsodists declaimed hispoems [127]by alternately relieving one another, and covering themselveswith garments of different colours adapted to the situation,had insensibly given rise to dramatic style and to theatricalrepresentation.[128]This, true in a sense, has need of a distinction:it will serve at the same time to throw light uponwhat I am about to say.

One should remember that the intellectual and rationalpoetry, or theosophical and philosophical, illustrated byOrpheus and which Homer had united with the enthusiasmof the passions in order to constitute epopœia, althoughseparated from the latter, existed none the less. Whereasthe disciples of Homer, or theHomeridæ,[129]spread themselvesabroad and took possession of the laic or profane world,the religious and learned world was always occupied by thedisciples of Orpheus, calledEumolpidæ.[130]The hierophantsand philosophers continued to write as formerly upon theologyand natural philosophy. There appeared from timeto time theogonies and cosmologicalsystems,[131]dionysiacs,heraclides,[132]oracles, treatises on nature and moral apologues,which bore no relation to epopœia. The hymns or pæanswhich had emanated from the sanctuaries in honour of theDivinity, had in no wise resembled either the odes or thedithyrambs of the lyricpoets [133]:as much as the former werevehement and passionate, so much the latter affected to becalm and majestic. There existed therefore, at this epoch,two kinds of poetry, equally beautiful when they had attainedtheir respective perfection: Eumolpique Poetry andEpic Poetry: the first, intellectual and rational; the other,intellectual and passionate.

However, the divine mysteries, hidden from the profane,manifested to the initiates in the ceremonies and symbolicfables, had not as yet issued from the sanctuaries: it hadbeen nearly a thousand years since they had been institutedby Orpheus [134]when suddenly one saw for the first timecertain of these fables and these ceremonies ridiculouslytravestied, transpiring among the people and serving themfor amusement. The fêtes of Dionysus, celebrated in thetimes of vintage, gave place to this sort of profanation.The grape-gatherers, besmeared with lees, giving way in theintoxication of wine to an indiscreet enthusiasm, began toutter aloud from their wagons the allegories that they hadlearned in their rural initiations. These allegories, whichneither the actors nor the spectators had comprehended inreality, appeared, nevertheless, piquant to both through themalicious interpretations which they gavethem.[135]Suchwere the feeble beginnings of dramatic art inGreece [136];therewas born the profanation of the Orphic mysteries, in thesame manner that one sees it reborn among us, by the profanationof the Christianmysteries.[137]But this art was alreadyold in Asia when it sprang up in Europe. I havealready said that there was in the secret celebration of themysteries, veritable dramatic representations. These mysticceremonies, copied from those which had taken placein the celebration of the Egyptian mysteries, had beenbrought into Egypt by the Indian priests at a very remoteepoch when the empire of Hindustan had extended overthis country. This communication, which was made fromone people to another, has been demonstrated to the pointof evidence by the learned researches of the academiciansof Calcutta, Jones, Wilford, andWilkin,[138]who have provedwhat Bacon had previously said in speaking of the Greektraditions, “that it was only a very light air which, passingby means of an ancient people into the flutes of Greece, hadbeen modulated by them into sounds more sweet, moreharmonious, and more conformable to the climate and totheir brilliant imagination.”

A singular coincidence,Messieurs, which will not escapeyour sagacity, is that dramatic art, whose origin is lost inIndia in the night of time, has likewise had its birth in themysteries of religion. It is during theRam-Jatra, a fêtecelebrated annually in honour of Rama, the same as Dionysusof the Greeks, or Bacchus of the Latins, that one stillsees theatrical representations which have served as modelsfor the more regular works that have been made in thecourse of time.[139]These representations, which run throughnearly all the exploits of Rama and through the victorythat this beneficent god gained over Rawhan, the principleof evil, are mingled with chants and recitations exactly aswere those of the ancient Greeks. You understand,Messieurs,that the first efforts of tragedy were to celebrate theconquests of Bacchus and his triumph, of which that ofApollo over the serpent Python, celebrated by the Pythiangames, was the emblem.[140]Those of the Indians who appearto have preserved the most ancient traditions, since thesacred books were written in the Pali language, consideredas anterior to the Sanskrit by some savants, the Burmans,have from time immemorial recorded the mysteries of Ramain scenic dramas which are still performed in public on thefête day of this god.[141]I do not consider it amiss to mentionhere that the name of Rama, which in Sanskrit signifiesthat which is dazzling and beautiful, that which is sublimeand protective, has had the same signification inPhœnician,[142]and that it is from this same name to which is joineda demonstrative article common to Aramaic, Chaldean, andSyriac, that the word drama [143]is formed, and which beingadopted by the Greek tongue, has passed afterwards intothe Latin tongue and into ours. This word has expressedan action, because, in truth, it depicts one in the mysteriesand besides its primitive root refers to regular movementin general.

But as my purpose is not to follow at present dramaticart in all its ramifications and as it suffices me to have indicatedclearly the origin, I return to Greece.

The spectacle of which I have spoken, effect of a Bacchicenthusiasm, and at first abandoned to the caprice of certainrustic grape-gatherers whose indiscretions did not appearformidable, struck so forcibly by its novelty and producedsuch a marvellous effect upon the people, that it was notlong before certain men of most cultivated minds were seendesirous of taking part either from liking or from interest.Thespis and Susarion appeared at the same time and eachseized, according to his character, one the noble and seriousside and the other the ridiculous and amusing side of themythological fables; dividing thus from its birth, dramaticart and distinguishing it by two kinds, tragedy and comedy:that is, the lofty and austere chant, and the joyous andlascivious chant.[144][145]

In the meantime, the governments, until then quiteindifferent to these rustic amusements, warned that certainliberties permitted by Thespis were becoming too flagrant,began to see the profanations which had resulted, and ofwhich the Eumolpidæ had no doubt pointed out theconsequences.[146]They tried to prevent them, and Solon evenmade a law regarding thissubject [147];but it was too late:the people attracted in crowds to these representations, allinformal as they were, rendered useless the foresight of thelegislator. It was necessary to yield to the torrent and,being unable to arrest it, to strive at least to restrain itwithin just limits. A clear field was left open for thegood that it was able to do, in fertilizing the new ideas,and severe rules were opposed to check whatever dangersits invasions might have for religion and for customs. Thedramatic writers were permitted to draw the subject oftheir pieces from the source of the mysteries, but it wasforbidden them, under penalty of death, to divulge thesense. Æschylus, first of the dramatic poets, having involuntarilyviolated this law, ran the risk of losing hislife.[148]Discriminating judges were established to pronounce uponthe excellency of the works offered in the competition, andone was very careful not to abandon oneself at first to thepassionate acclamations of the people, and the approbationsor disapprobations of the maxims which were thereincontained.[149]These judges, proficient in the knowledge ofmusic and of poetry, had to listen in silence until the end,and maintain all in order and decency. Plato attributes tothe desuetude into which this law fell, and to the absolutedominion which the people assumed over the theatre, thefirst decadence of the art and its entire corruption.

Æschylus, whom I have just named, was the true creatorof dramatic art. Strong with the inspiration which he hadreceived from Homer,[150]he transported into tragedy the styleof epopœia, and animated it with a music grave and simple.[151]Not content with the moral beauties with which his geniusembellished it, he wished that music, painting, and dancingmight lend their aid and contribute to the illusion of thesenses. He caused a theatre to be built where the mostingenious devices, the most magnificent decorations displayedtheir magic effects.[152]One saw in the tragedy ofPrometheus, the earth trembling, clouds of dust rising inthe air; one heard the whistling of wind, the crash of thunder;one was dazzled by the lightnings.[153]Old Ocean appearedupon the waves, and Mercury came from the heights ofheaven to announce the commands of Jupiter. In thetragedy of the Eumenides, these infernal divinities appearedupon the scene to the number of fifty, clothed in black robes;blood-stained, the head bristling with serpents, holding inone hand a torch and in the other alash.[154]They replied tothe shade of Clytemnestra, who invoked them, by a choirof music so frightful, that a general terror having struckthe assembly, certain of the women experienced prematurepains of confinement.[155]

One feels, after this, that Greek tragedy had in its theatricalforms, much in common with our modern operas;but what eminently distinguishes it is that, having comeforth complete from the depths of the sanctuaries, it possesseda moral sense which the initiates understood. Thisis what put it above anything that we might be able toconceive today; what gave it an inestimable price. Whereasthe vulgar, dazzled only by the pomp of the spectacle,allured by the beauty of the verse and the music, enjoyedmerely a fleeting gratification, the wise tasted a pleasuremore pure and more durable, by receiving the truth in theirhearts even from the deceitful delusions of the senses. Thispleasure was as much greater as the inspiration of the poethad been more perfect, and as he had succeeded better inmaking the allegorical spirit felt, without betraying the veilwhich covered it.

Æschylus went further in comprehension of the subjectthan any of his successors. His plans were of an extremesimplicity. He deviated little from the mythologicaltradition.[156]All his efforts tended only to give light to theirteachings, to penetrate into their hidden beauties. Thecharacters of his heroes, strongly drawn, sustained themat heights where Homer had placed them. He causedterror to pass before them that they might befrightened.[157]His aim was to lead them to virtue by terror, and to inspirethe soul with a force capable of resisting alike the intoxicationsof prosperity and the discouragements of poverty.

Sophocles and Euripides followed closely Æschylus andsurpassed him in certain portions of the art; the first, eventriumphed over him in the eyes of themultitude [158];but thesmall number of sages, faithful to the true principles, regardedhim always as the father oftragedy.[159]One canadmit that Sophocles was more perfect in the conduct ofhis plans, in the regularity of hisstyle [160];that Euripides wasmore natural and more tender, more skilful in arousinginterest, in stirring thepassions [161];but these perfections,resulting from the form, had not been acquired withoutthe very essence of drama being altered; that is to say,without the allegorical genius which had presided at thecomposition of the fables that the poets had always drawnfrom the religious mysteries, suffering many deviations,which rendered it often unrecognizable through the foreignadornments with which it was burdened. Sophocles andabove all Euripides, by devoting themselves to perfectingthe form, really harmed therefore the principle of the artand hastened its corruption. If the laws which had at firstbeen promulgated against those who in treating of thetragic subjects vilified the mysterious sense had been executed,Euripides would not have been allowed to depictso many heroes degraded by adversity, so many princessesled astray by love, so many scenes of shame, of scandal, andof crime [162];but the people, already degraded and borderingupon corruption, allowed themselves to be drawn along bythese dangerous tableaux and hastened half-way to meetthe poisoned cup which was offered to them.

It must candidly be admitted, that it is to the very charmof these tableaux, to the talent with which Euripides understoodhow to colour them, that the decadence of Athenianmanners and the first harm done to the purity of religionmust be attributed. The theatre, having become theschool of the passions, and offering to the soul no spiritualnourishment, opened a door through which doubt, contempt,and derision for the mysteries, the most sacrilegious audacity,and utter forgetfulness of the Divinity, insinuatedthemselves even unto the sanctuaries. Æschylus had representedin his heroes, supernaturalpersonages [163];Sophoclespainted simple heroes, and Euripides, characters often lessthan men.[164]Now these personages were, in the eyes of thepeople, either children of the gods, or the gods themselves.What idea could be formed then of their weaknesses, oftheir crimes, of their odious or ridiculous conduct, particularlywhen these weaknesses or these crimes were no longerrepresented as allegories from which it was necessary toseek the meaning, but as historical events or frivolous playsof the imagination? The people, according to the degree oftheir intelligence, became either impious or superstitious;the savants professed to doubt all, and the influential men,by feigning to believe all, regarded all parties with an equalindifference. This is exactly what happened. The mysteriesbecame corrupt because one was accustomed to regardthem as corrupt; and the people became intolerant andfanatical, each one cringing with fear, lest he be judged whathe really was, namely, impious.

Such was the effect of dramatic art in Greece. Thiseffect, at first imperceptible, became manifest to the eyesof the sages, when the people became the dictators of thetheatre and ignored the judges named to pronounce uponthe works of the poets; When the poets, jealous of obtainingthe approval of the multitude, consulted its taste ratherthan truth, its versatile passions rather than reason, andsacrificed to its caprices the laws of honesty andexcellence.[165]

As soon as tragedy, disparaging the mysteries of thefables had transformed them into historical facts, it neededonly a step to raise historical facts to the rank of subjectsof tragedy. Phrynichus was, it is said, the first who hadthis audacity. He produced in the theatre, theConquestof Miletus.[166]The people of Athens, with a whimsicalitywhich is characteristic of them, condemned the poet to avery heavy fine, for having disobeyed the law and crownedhim because of the tears which they shed at the representationof his work. But this was not enough, confoundingthus reality and allegory; soon, sacred and profane thingswere mingled by forging without any kind of moral aim,subjects wholly false and fantastic. The poet Agathon,who was the author of this new profanation had been thefriend of Euripides.[167]He proved thus that he knew nothingof the essence of dramatic poetry and makes it doubtfulwhether Euripides knew it any better.

Thus, in the space of less than two centuries, tragedy,borne upon the car of Thespis, elevated by Æschylus to anobler theatre, carried to the highest degree of splendourby Sophocles, had already become weakened in the handsof Euripides, had lost the memory of its celestial originwith Agathon, and abandoned to the caprices of a populaceas imperious as ignorant, inclined toward a rapiddegeneration.[168]Comedy less reserved did not have a happier destiny.After having hurled its first darts upon the heroes and demi-godsof Greece, having taken possession of certain veryunguarded allegories, to turn even the gods toridicule [169];after having derided Prometheus and Triptolemus, Bacchusand the Bacchantes, after having made sport of heavenand earth, of the golden age and the seasons [170];it attackedmen in general and in particular, ridiculed their absurdities,pursued their vices, real or imaginary, and delivered themboth unsparingly, without pity, to derision andcontempt.[171]Epicharmus, who gave certain rules to the indecent farcesof Susarion, was followed by Magnes, Cratinus, Eupolis,and a crowd of other comic poets, until Aristophanes whosebitter satires no longer finding sufficient influence in certainobscure ridicules, applied themselves to disparaging scienceand virtue, and twenty years beforehand, prepared andenvenomed the hemlock by which Socrates was poisoned.It is true that some time after, Menander tried to reformthis terrible abuse and gave to comedy a form less revolting;but he was only able to do so by detaching it completelyfrom its origin, that is to say, by severing it from all thatit had preserved, intellectually and allegorically, and reducingit to the representation of certain tableaux and certainevents of the social life.

In going back, as I have just done, to the origin of poeticscience in order to distinguish first, its essence from its formand afterwards, to follow its diverse developments, in genusand in kind, I have related many things and cited a greatnumber of subjects with which you are familiar; but youwill no doubt excuse,Messieurs, these numerous reminiscencesand citations, in reflecting that although but littlenecessary for you, they were infinitely so for me, sincepresenting myself in the lists and wishing to give an addedform to this science which belongs to you, I must proveto you that I have at least studied it profoundly.

§ V

Now, summing up what I have said, it will be foundthat poetry, entirely intellectual in its origin and destinedonly to be the language of the gods, owed its firstdevelopments in Greece to Orpheus, its second to Homer,and its last to Æschylus. These three creative men, seizingthe different germs of this science still shrouded in theirformless rudiments, warmed them with the fire of theirgenius and according to the particular inspiration of each,led them to the perfection of which they were susceptible.All three of them were the object of a first inspiration,although influenced one by the other, and were able tocommunicate the magnetic power to new disciples. Orpheuspossessor of intellectual and rational poetry, constitutedthat which I callEumolpœia, which, being divided intotheosophy and philosophy, produces all the works whichtreat of the Divinity, of the Universe, of Nature, and ofMan in general.[172]Homer, in joining to this spiritual poetrythe enthusiasm of the passions, created Epopœia, whosemagnificent genus envelops a multitude of specie, wherethe intellectual faculty and passion dominate with more orless energy under the influence of imagination. Homerrendered sentient that which was intelligible and particularizedthat which Orpheus had left universal: Æschylus,trying to bring into action what these two divine men hadleft with potentiality, formed the idea of dramatic or activepoetry, in which he claimed to include whatever Eumolpœiaand Epopœia had in common, that was moral, allegorical,and passionate. He would have succeeded, perhaps, andthen would have produced the most perfect work of thought,passion, and action possible for men, conceived by geniusand executed by talent; but Greece, exhausted by the abundantharvest obtained by Orpheus and Homer, lacked thesap to give nourishment to this new plant. Corrupted inits germ, this plant degenerated rapidly, deteriorated, andput forth only a vain show of branches without elevationand without virtue. The heroes of Thermopylæ succumbedunder the burden of their laurels. Given over to a foolisharrogance, they covered with an unjust contempt theirpreceptors and their fathers; they persecuted, they assassinatedtheir defenders and their sages and, base tyrants ofthe theatre, they prepared themselves to bow the headbeneath the yoke of the king of Macedonia.

This king, victor at Chæronea, became arbiter of Greece,and his son, providential instrument of the ascendancywhich Europe was to have over Asia, crossing the Hellespontat the head of an army that his genius alone renderedformidable, overthrew the empire of Cyrus and stood fora moment upon its débris: I say for a moment, because itwas not here that the new empire was to be established:Europe had still obeyed; she was one day to command.Rome was already, in the thought of the future, the culminatingpoint of the earth. A few centuries sufficed for thiscity, then unknown,[173]to attain to the height of glory.Emerging from her obscurity, conquering Pyrrhus, dominatingItaly, combating and overthrowing Carthage, conqueringGreece, and trampling under foot twenty diademsborne by the successors of Alexander, was for this ambitiousRepublic the work of a few centuries. But it is not true,although certain men whose virtue was not enlightened bythe torch of experience may have been able to say it; it isnot true that a republic, already perplexed in governingitself, can govern the world. It requires an empire, andthis empire is created.

Cæsar laid its foundation, Augustus strengthened it.The sciences and arts, brought to Rome from the heart ofGreece, came out then from their lethargy and flourishedwith a new(éclat). Poetry, especially, found numberlessadmirers. Vergil, strongly attracted by the magneticflame of Homer, dared to tread in his light, overthrew allthe obstacles that time had raised, and drawing near tothis divine model, received from him the second inspirationwithout intermediary and without rival. Ovid, less determined,hovering between Orpheus and Homer, succeeded,however, in uniting the second inspiration of the one tothe third inspiration of the other, and left in his book ofMetamorphoses a monument not less brilliant and moreinimitable than theÆneid. Horace, little satisfied withsucceeding Pindar, sought and found the means of unitingto the enthusiasm of the passions the calm of rationalpoetry, and, establishing himself a legislator of Parnassus,dictated laws to the poets, or jeered at the absurdities ofmen.

This poetry of reason had long since fallen into desuetude.The false movement that dramatic poetry hadtaken in Greece, the contempt that it had come to inspirefor gods and men, had reacted upon it. The philosophers,disdaining a science which, by its own admission, wasfounded upon falsehood, had driven it from their writings.As much as they searched for it, when they believed it anemanation of the Divinity, so much had they fled from itsince they had come to see in it only the vain production ofan insensate delirium. Here is an observation,Messieurs,somewhat new, with which I may engage your attention:the first comedies appeared five hundred and eighty yearsbefore our era, which was about twenty years after Pherecydeswrote the first work inprose.[174]This philosopherdoubtless, did not believe that a language prostituted to theburlesque parodies of Susarion should be useful further tothe meditations of the sages. It is not, however, that atlong intervals certain philosophers such as Empedocles,Parmenides, and many others of their disciples, have notwritten in verse [175];but the remains of the ancient usage soongave way, especially when Plato had embellished prose withthe charm of his captivating eloquence. Before this philosopher,Herodotus had read in the assembly of the Olympicgames an history of Greece connected with that of thegreater part of the neighbouringnations.[176]This work,written in a fluent style, clear and persuasive, had so enchantedthe Greeks, that they had given to the nine bookswhich he composed, the names of the nine Muses. Nevertheless,an observation which will not be wholly foreign here,is, that the admission of prose in philosophy, instead ofrational poetry, produced a style of work hitherto unknown,and of which the moderns made much; I am speaking of positivehistory. Before this epoch, history written in verse was,as I have said, allegorical and figurative, and was occupiedonly with the masses without respect to individuals. Thusthe evil which resulted on the one side, from the degradationexperienced by poetry in one of its branches, was balancedby the good which was promised on the other, from thepurification of prose for the advancement of exact knowledge.

But returning to what I said just now on the subject ofrational poetry, joined by the Romans to the passionatepart of that science, I will say that this union created anew style, of which Horace was the originator: this was thedidactic style. This style ought not to be confused withrational poetry, of which Hesiod has made use in his poemofWorks and Days, and which pertains to Eumolpœia;nor with pure rational poetry, such as one finds in the writingsof Parmenides and Empedocles: it is a sort of poetrywhich, attaching itself to form alone, depends much upondramatic art. The didactic, satirical, or simply descriptivepoet is similar to an actor on the stage declaiming a longmonologue. Rational poetry was welcomed at Rome, anddrawn from the long oblivion into which it had fallen, byLucretius who, being inspired by the works of Leucippusand of Epicurus [177]wrote a book upon the nature of things,which has never been as yet well comprehended or welltranslated, the language not being understood.

Comedy, reformed by Menander, was again improvedby Plautus and by Terence who acquired much reputationin this style; as to dramatic art in itself, it remained in itsinertia. The Romans having the same gods and nearlythe same mythology as the Greeks, were neither sufficientlyelevated in intelligence to reinstate this art and make ofit the masterpiece of the human mind; nor sufficientlyadvanced in exact knowledge to change wholly its forms andmake of it, as we have, a new art, whence allegory and themoral part of Eumolpœia have been completely banished.But what the Romans were unable to do for dramatic art,they unfortunately were able to do for Epopœia. Certainwriters, able versifiers, but absolutely deprived of intellectualinspiration, incapable of distinguishing in poetry theessence from the form, following what the degeneratedtheatre and the inspired declamations ofEuhemerus [178]hadtaught them, imagined foolishly that the gods and heroesof antiquity having been only men stronger and more powerfulthan the others, mythology was only a crude collectionof historic facts disfigured, and Epopœia only an emphaticdiscourse upon these samefacts.[179]Thereupon they believedthat it was only a question of taking any historicsubject whatever, and relating it in verse with certain embellishments,to create an epic poem. Lucan and SiliusItalicus, in choosing, the one the misfortunes of Pompey,and the other the victories of Hannibal, considered themselvessuperior to Homer or Vergil, as much as they supposedRome or Carthage superior to Ilium. But a just posterity,notwithstanding the prejudices of their panegyrists, hasput them in their place. It has considered them merelythe inventors of a kind of bastard poetry, which might becalled historic poetry. This poetry, entirely separatedfrom Eumolpœia, whose moral essence it is unable to realize,preserves only the material and physical forms of trueEpopœia. It is a body without soul, which is moved by amechanical mainspring applied by a skilful workman.

As to the poetic form in itself, its only point of variancewith the Greeks and Romans was that of elegance. Theverses written in the same manner, depended likewise upon afixed number of time or of feet regulated by musical rhythm.If rhyme had been admitted there in the first ages, it hadbeen excluded early enough so that there remained no longerthe least trace of it. The Latin tongue, very far from theGreek in flexibility, variety, and harmony, for a long timetreated with contempt by the Greeks who, regarding it asa barbarous dialect, only learned it withrepugnance [180];the Latin tongue, I say, unpleasing, obscure, not even supportingthe mediocrity of ordinary elocution, became,through the laborious efforts of its writers, a tongue whichin the works of Vergil, for example, attained such a perfection,that it came to be doubted, owing to the grace, thejustice, and the force of its expression, whether the authorof theÆneid did not surpass the author of theIliad. Suchis the empire of forms. They alone make problematicalthat which, in its essence, should not be subject to the leastdiscussion.

But at last the Roman Eagle, after having soared sometime in the universe and covered with his extended wingsthe most beautiful countries of Europe, Asia, and Africa,fatigued by its own triumphs, sank down again, allowed itspower to be divided, and from the summit of this same Capitol,whence it had for such a long time hurled its thunderbolts,saw the vultures of the North divide among them itsspoils. The mythological religion, misunderstood in itsprinciples, attacked in its forms, given over to the corruptionof things and men, had disappeared to give place to anew religion, which born in obscurity, was raised imperceptiblyfrom the ranks of the humblest citizens to the imperialthrone. Constantine, who in embracing the Christiancult had consolidated that religious revolution, believedhimself able to bring about another in politics, by transferringthe seat of his empire to the Bosphorus. Historianshave often blamed this last movement; but they have notseen that Providence, in inspiring this division of the empire,foresaw that the darkness of ignorance rolling with the wavesof the barbarians was about to extend as far as Rome, andthat it would be necessary to concentrate at one point a partof the learning, in order to save it from the general ruin.Whereas the Empire of the Occident, assailed on all sidesby the hordes from the North, was overthrown, torn, dividedinto numberless small sovereignties whose extent was oftenlimited to the donjon where the sovereign resided; the Empireof the Orient sustained the weight of the hordes from theSouth, nourished continually in its midst certain men, guardiansof the sacred fire of science, and did not fall until morethan nine centuries later; and learning, commencing itsrevival in the Occident, put minds in condition there, toappreciate the models which were about to be presentedto them and rendered them capable of receiving theirinspiration.

It was a very remarkable epoch,Messieurs, which sawgrouped about it in the space of less than a half centuryand coincident with the downfall of the Empire of the Orient,the use of gunpowder, of the compass, of the telescope inthe Occident; the invention of engraving upon copper, thatof movable characters for printing, the extension of commerceand navigation by the passage around the cape of Storms,and finally the discovery of America. It was a very extraordinarycentury, in which were born Mohammed II. andLorenzo de’ Medici, Vasco da Gama and Christopher Columbus,Theodoros Gaza and Pico della Mirandola, Leonardoda Vinci and Bojardo, Leo X. and Luther. After the invasionof the barbarians, Christian Europe had lost its politicalunity: it was as a great republic whose divided members,struggling continuously one against the other, tearing byturn a shadow of supremacy, were the realms, the pontificalor laic principalities, the republics, the free and commercialcities. The two chiefs of this gigantic and badly organizedbody, the German Emperor and the Pope, bishop of Rome,were vested only with a grandeur of opinion; their real powerwas void: they were nothing more, in fact, than that whichthey appeared in form. Since Charlemagne, who, in acentury of darkness enlightened with his own genius, hadhad the force to grasp the(débris) of the empire, uniting themin his hand and giving them a momentary existence, it hadnot had an emperor. The vain efforts of Hildebrand andof Charles V. had served only at different times and underdifferent conditions to demonstrate their impotence. Itwas reserved for a much greater man to dominate Europeregenerated by violent shocks, and to show to the universethe legitimate successor of Augustus wreathed with theimperial crown.

But without in any way anticipating time, without evenleaving our subject which is poetry, let us continue to followthe developments of this science.

The original poets of Greece and Rome, brought intoItaly by the savants whom the taking of Constantinopleforced to go back towards the Occident of Europe, broughtthere an unexpected brilliancy, which, with the ancientgerms deeply buried in its midst, soon awakened certainnew germs that the peculiar circumstances had also broughtthere. In explaining what these germs were, I am givingoccasion for thinkers to make certain reflections, and criticsto form certain singular conjectures upon works hithertobadly judged.

It is necessary at first, that I repeat a truth which Ihave already said: that intellectual nature is always oneand the same, whereas physical nature varies, changesunceasingly with time and place, and is modified in athousand ways according to circumstances. Now, it isthis latter nature which gives the form, that is to say,which renders sentient and particular that which theformer gives to it as universal and intelligible; so thatits aptitude more or less great, in receiving and inworking upon the intelligence, can make the things whichare more homogeneous in their principle appear moredissimilar in their effect. I will give a proof. Whilstthe most profound obscurity covered Europe, whilstignorance spread on all sides its baleful veils, there werefound, however, at long intervals, certain privileged men,who, raising themselves above these thick vapours, came tograsp certain faint glimmerings of the light shining alwaysabove them. These men possessors of such rare gifts,would have indeed wished to communicate them to theircontemporaries, but if they imprudently opened theirmouths, the blind and fanatic horde which surrounded themcried out forthwith against the heretic, the magician, thesorcerer, and conducted them to torture as the price of theirlessons.[181]After several sorry examples, these men, havingbecome prudent, assumed the part of silence by retiringinto monasteries or hermitages, studying Nature there inquietude, and profiting alone by their discoveries. If certainones still dared to speak, it was by borrowing the style ofreligion, or history, diverting from the ordinary sense certainideas received, explaining themselves by enigmas, or byfigures, which, when necessary, they were able to explainas they wished.

Among this number was a man of strong imaginationand of a genius really poetic, who, having grasped certaintruths of nature, and judging it proper not to divulge them,took the expedient of enclosing them in a book which heentitled:Les Faits et Gestes de Charles-Magne. This extraordinaryman who has, in these modern times, obtained anascendancy greater than one could ever have imagined,since he is the vital source whence have come all the orders,all the institutions of chivalry with which Europe has beeninundated; this man, I say, was a monk of(Saint-André deVienne), living from the tenth to the eleventh century andperhaps a littlebefore.[182]The book that he composed had asuccess as much the more prodigious as it was misunderstood,and such was the ignorance not only of the people, but evenof the clergy, that the most palpable fictions were taken forrealities. There are historians even who pretend thatthe council of Rheims, celebrated in 1119, declared thiswork authentic [183];and thence came the habit of attributingit to Archbishop Turpin. However that may be, it is tothe allegorical history of Charlemagne, to that of his twelvepaladins, called peers of France, to that of the four sons ofAymon and of Chevalier Bayard, to that of Renaud, Roland,Richard, and the other heroes of the(bibliothèque bleue), fora long time our onlybibliotheca, that we owe a new style ofpoetry, called Romanesque, on account of the Romancetongue in which it hadbirth.[184]This style is to the(eumolpique)style, as a wild offshoot, growing laboriously in an arid andbramble-covered land, is to a cultivated tree which risesmajestically in the heart of a fertile country.

It was with the chivalrous ideas, inspired by the bookof the monk of Saint André, that the first poetic ideas werebrought forth in France. The Oscan troubadours seizingthese first glimmerings of genius, threw themselves withenthusiasm into a career which offered at the same timepleasures, glory, and the gifts offortune.[185]They sang of thefair, of gallants and of kings; but their verses, monotonousenough when a real passion did not animate them, hardlyreached above eulogy or satire. But little capable of feelingthe moral beauties of poetry, they stopped at form.The rhyme for them was everything. For them the supremetalent was only rhyming much and with difficulty. Onecould not imagine to what lengths they went in this style.Not content with restricting themselves to follow the samerhyme throughout the entire course of the poem, they sometimesdoubled it at the end of each verse, rhyming by echo,or else they made an initial rhyme.[186]These obstacles becomingmultiplied stifled their muse in its cradle. All thatart owed to these first modern poets was limited to a sortof song, gay and sprightly, ordinarily a parody upon amore serious subject, and which, because it was quite frequentlysung with an air of the dance accompanied by the(vielle) orhurdy-gurdy, their favourite instrument, was called(vau-de-vielle), or as is pronounced today, vaudeville.[187]

The Italians and Spaniards, who received from theOscan troubadours their first impulse toward poetry, wouldhave been perhaps as limited as they, to composing amoroussonnets, madrigals or, at the most, certain vehementsylves,[188]if the Greeks, driven from their country by the conquests ofMohammed II., had not brought them the works of theancients as I have already said. These works, explainedin the(chaire publique), due to the munificence of the Medicis,struck particularly the Italians: not however by excitingtheir poets to take them as models; the turn of their mindand the form of their poetry, similar in everything to thatof the troubadours, were opposed too obviously here; butby giving them that sort of emulation which, without copyingthe others, makes one strive to equal them. At thisepoch the book of the monk of St. André, attributed as Ihave said to Archbishop Turpin, already more than fourcenturies old, was known by all Europe, whether by itself,or whether by the numberless imitations of which it hadbeen the subject. Not only France, Spain, Italy, but alsoEngland and Germany were inundated with a mass of romancesand ballads, wherein were pictured the knights of thecourt of Charlemagne and those of the RoundTable.[189]Allthese works were written in verse, and the greater part,particularly those composed by the troubadours or theirdisciples, intended to be sung, were cut into strophes. Thoseof the imitator poets, who had had the force to go back tothe allegorical sense of their model, had only developed andenriched it with their own knowledge; the others, followingtheir various methods of considering it, had chosen subjectsreal and historical, or indeed had followed ingenuouslywithout aim or plan, the impulse of their vagabond imagination.In France could be seen represented by the side ofthe stories of Tristan, of Lancelot, of the Grail, and of Ogier-le-Danois,that of Alexander the Great and of the Bible,that of the Seven Sages and of Judas Maccabeus, that ofthe History of the Normands and the Bretons, and finallythat of the Rose, the most famous of all. A certain Guilhaumehad published a philosophical romance upon thenature of beasts.[190]

Already the Italian poets, after having received fromthe troubadours the form of their verses and that of theirworks, had surpassed their masters and had caused them tobe forgotten. Petrarch in the sonnet and Dante in thesirvente assumed all the glory of their models, and left notany for the successors [191];already even Bojardo and someothers had attempted, with the example of Homer, to bringback to the unity of epopœia, the incongruous and fantasticscenes of the romance, when Ariosto appeared. This man,gifted with a keen and brilliant imagination, and possessorof a matchless talent, executed what no one else had beenable to do before him; he was neither inspired by Homer,nor by Vergil; he copied no one. He learned from themonly to raise himself to the poetic source, to see it where itwas and to draw from it his genius. Then he received afirst inspiration and became the creator of a particularstyle of poetry which may be called romantic. Undoubtedlythis style is greatly inferior to epopœia; but after all it isoriginal: its beauties as well as its faults belong to him.

Almost the same moment when Ariosto enriched Europewith his new poetry, Camoëns wished to naturalize it inPortugal; but the(mélange) of Vergil and Lucan that heessayed to make, betrayed his lack of understanding andhe did not succeed. I mention it only that you may observe,Messieurs, that the form adopted by the Portuguesepoet is exactly the same as the one which Ariosto, his predecessorsand his successors, have followed in Italy: it isthat of the troubadours. The poems of each are long ballads,intersected by strophes of eight lines of alternate rhymeswhich, succeeding one another with the same measure, canbe sung from one end to the other, with an appropriate air,and which in fact, as J. J. Rousseau has very well remarked,were sung frequently. In these poems, the essence is inaccord with the form, and it is this that makes their regularity.It is not the epopœia of Homer drawn from theOrphic source, it is the romantic poetry of Ariosto, an issueof the fictions attributed to Archbishop Turpin, which isassociated with the verses of the troubadours. Theseverses subjected to rhyme are incapable in any tongue ofattaining the sublime heights of Eumolpœia or of Epopœia.

The French poets soon proved it, when coming to understandthe works of Homer and Vergil, they thought themselvesable to imitate them by making use of the same poeticforms by which the authors ofPerceval orBerthe-au-grand-piedhad profited. It was all to no purpose that they workedthese forms, striking them upon the anvil, polishing them,they remained inflexible. Ronsard was the first who madethe fatal experiment; and after him a crowd of carelesspersons came to run aground upon the same reef. Theseforms always called up the spirit with which they were born;the melancholy and unceasing sound, sonorous with theirrhymes in couplets or alternate, had something soporificwhich caused the soul to dream and which allured it in spiteof itself, not into the sublime regions of allegory wherethe genius of Eumolpœia was nourished, but into vaguespaces of fictions, where, under a thousand whimsical formsthe romantic mind evaporates. Doubtless one would havebeen able, in France, to limit the Italian poets, as had beendone in Spain and Portugal; but besides, as it would havebeen necessary to confine itself to the second inspiration ina style already secondary, the spirit of the nation, sufficientlywell represented by that of Ronsard, foreseeing from afarits high destinies, wished to command the summit ofParnassus, before having discovered the first paths.

The disasters of the first epic poets did not discouragetheir successors; vying with each other they sought to makeamends; but instead of seeing the obstacle where it reallywas, that is to say, in the incompatible alliance of the essenceof Epopœia with the form of romance, they imaginedthat lack of talent alone had been prejudicial to the successof their predecessors. Consequently they devoted themselvesto work with an indefatigable ardour, polishingand repolishing the rhyme, tearing to pieces and revisingtwenty times their works, and finally bringing the form tothe highest perfection that they were able to attain. Thecentury of Louis XIV., so fertile in able versifiers, in profoundrhymers, saw, however, the dawn of Epic poems onlyas a signal of their failure. Chapelain had, nevertheless,shown talent before his catastrophe; wishing to interestthe French nation, he had chosen in its history the sole epicsubject which he found there. Why had he not succeeded?This point was considered, and the truth still lacking, theywent on to imagine that the fault was inherent in the Frenchtongue, and that it was no longer capable of rising to theheights of Epopœia: deplorable error, which for a long timehas been harmful to the development of a tongue destinedto become universal and to carry to future centuries thediscoveries of past ones.

Ronsard had felt the difficulty most. Accustomed ashe was to read Greek and Latin works in the original, hehad seen clearly that what prevented the French tongue fromfollowing their poetic movement was particularly the restraintof the rhyme; he had even sought to free it from thisservitude, endeavouring to make the French verses scanaccording to the ancient rhythm; but, in another way hehad not appreciated the genius of that tongue which refusedto follow this rhythm. Jodelle, Baïf, Passerat, Desportes,Henri-Etienne, and certain other savants, have made atdifferent times the same attempt, and always withoutresults.[192]Each tongue has its own character which it isnecessary to know; ours has not at all the musical prosodyof the Greek and Latin; its syllables are not determined,long and short, by the simple duration of time, but by thedifferent accentuation and inflection of the voice. Amongour writers the one who has best understood the nature ofthis prosody is certainly the abbé d’Olivet: he declared firstlythat he did not believe it possible to make French versesmeasured by rhythm; and secondly, that even in the casewhere this might be possible, he did not see how this rhythmcould be conformable to that of the Greeks andLatins.[193]

I am absolutely of his opinion on these two points; Iam furthermore,(en partie), on what he says of the rhyme.I know as he, that it is not an invention of the barbarousages; I know even more, that it is the luxurious productionof a very enlightened age; I must say that it has broughtforth thousands of beautiful verses, that it is often to thepoet like a strange genius which comes to the assistance ofhis own.[194]God forbid that I pretend to separate it fromFrench verse of which it is a charm. Rhyme is necessary,even indispensable, to romantic poetry and to all that isderived from it; and songs, ballads, vaudevilles, sylves ofwhatever sort they may be, whatever form, whatever lengththey may have, cannot pass away. It adds an infinitegrace to all that is sung or recited with the chivalrous sentiment.Even the lyric style receives from it a romanticharmony which accords with it. All the secondary stylesadmit of this. It can, up to a certain point, embellish descriptiveverse, soften didactic verse, add to the melancholyof the elegy, to the grace of the idyl; it can at last become theornament of dramatic art such as we possess—that is to say,chivalrous and impassioned; but as to real Eumolpœia andEpopœia—that is to say, as to what concerns intellectualand rational poetry, pure or mingled with the enthusiasmof the passions; prophetic verses or hymns, emanated fromthe Divinity or destined to be raised to it; philosophicalverse adapted to the nature of things and developing thediverse moral and physical systems; epic verses unitingtalent to allegorical genius and joining together the intelligibleworld to the sentient world; with all these, rhyme isincompatible. As much as it delights in works of the mindjust so much is it rejected by genius. Fiction harmonizeswith it, allegory is opposed to it. It is chivalrous and notheroic; agreeable, brilliant, clever, melancholy, sentimental,but it could never be either profound or sublime.

Let us clear this up with the light of experience, andnow that we can do it to good purpose, let us make a rapidsurvey of the poetic condition of the principal nations ofthe earth.

§ VI

The Greeks and the Romans, as guilty of ingratitudeas of injustice, have styled Asia barbarous, withoutthinking that they thus outraged their Mother, the onefrom whom both had their origin and their first instructions.Europe, more impartial today, begins to feel as she shouldtoward this ancient and noble country, and rendering to hervenerable scars a filial respect, does not judge her accordingto her present weakness, but according to the vigour thatshe possessed in the age of her strength, and of which hermagnificent productions still bear the imprint. A philosophicalobserver, academician of Calcutta, turning aninvestigating eye upon that part of the terrestrial continent,has recognized there five principal nations, among whichthat of the Indians holds the first rank; the others are thoseof the Chinese, Tartars, Persians, andArabs.[195]According tothis able writer, primitive India should be considered as asort of luminous focus which, concentrating at a very remoteepoch the learning acquired by an earlier people, has reflectedit, and has dispersed the rays upon the neighbouringnations.[196]She has been the source of Egyptian, Greek, andLatin theogony; she has furnished the philosophical dogmaswith which the first poets of Thrace and Ionia have adornedthe beauties of Eumolpœia and Epopœia; it is she who haspolished the Persians, Chaldeans, Arabs, and Ethiopians;and who by her numerous colonies has entertained relationswith the Chinese, Japanese, Scandinavians, Celts, Etruscans,and even with the Peruvians of the otherhemisphere.[197]

If one listens to the discourse of those who have beenmuch inclined to study the savant language of the Indians,Sanskrit, he will be persuaded that it is the most perfectlanguage that man has ever spoken. Nothing, accordingto them, can surpass its riches, its fertility, its admirablestructure; it is the source of the most poetic conceptionsand the mother of all the dialects which are in use from thePersian Gulf to the waters ofChina.[198]It is certain that ifanything can prove to the eyes of savants the maternalrights that this tongue claims over all the others, it is theastonishing variety of its poetry: what other peoples possessin detail, it possessesin toto. It is there that Eumolpœia,Epopœia, and Dramatic Art shine with native(éclat): it isthere that poetry divine and rational, poetry allegorical andpassionate, poetry stirring and even romantic, find theircradle. There, all forms are admitted, all kinds of versereceived. TheVedas, pre-eminently sacred books, are,like the Koran of Mohammed, written in cadencedprose.[199]ThePouranas, which contain the theosophy and philosophyof the Brahmans, their system concerning Nature, theirideas upon morals and upon natural philosophy, are composedin philosophical verse not rhymed; they are attributedto Vyasa, the Orpheus of the Indians. Valmiki, who is theirHomer, has displayed in theRamayana an epopœia magnificentand sublime to the highest degree; the dramas, whichthey call Nataks, are, according to their style, rhymed andnot rhymed: Bheret is considered as their inventor; Kalidasaas their perfecter.[200]The other kinds of poetry are allrhymed; their number is immense; their variety infinite.Nothing equals the industry and delicacy of the Indianrhymers in this style. The Arabs all skilful as they were,the Oscan troubadours whose rhyme was their sole merit,have never approached theirmodels.[201]Thus, not only doesone find among the Indians the measured verse of theGreeks and Romans, not only does one see there rhythmsunknown to these two peoples, but one recognizes alsothere our rhyme with combinations of which we haveno idea.

I ought to make an important observation here: it is,that whereas India, mistress of Asia, held the sceptre of theearth, she still recognized only the eumolpœia of theVedasand thePouranas, only the epopœia ofMaha-Bharata andtheRamayana; her poetry was the language of the godsand she gave herself the name ofPonya-Rhoumi, Land ofVirtues. It was only when a long prosperity had enervatedher, that the love for novelty, the caprice of fashion andperhaps, as it happened in Greece, the deviation of thetheatre, caused her to seek for beauties foreign to veritablepoetry. It is not a rare thing to pass the point of perfectionwhen one has attained it. The astonishing flexibility ofSanskrit, the abundance of its final consonants opens adouble means for corruption. Poets multiplied wordsbelieving to multiply ideas; they doubled rhymes; theytripled them in the same verse believing to increase proportionablyits harmony. Their imagination bending beforean inspiring genius became vagabond; they thought torise to the sublime, and fell into the bombastic. At last,knowing no longer how to give emphasis and importanceto their extravagant thoughts, they created wordsof such length that, in order to contain them, it wasnecessary to forge verses of fourcæsuras of nineteensyllables each.[202]

It was, therefore, at the epoch of the decadence of theIndian Empire, that rhyme usurped poetry. It would bedifficult today to say whether it was an innovation or asimple renovation. However it may be, it is probable thatit passed rapidly from the ruling nation to subject nationswhere it was diversely welcomed according to the languageand particular mind of each people.

If one can believe the annals of the Indians, China wasone of their colonies for a long time schismatic andrebellious.[203]If one can lend faith to the most ancient tradition of theChinese, they form from time immemorial a body of autochthonouspeople.[204]The discussion of this historic difficultywould be out of place here. Suffice it to say, that the Chinesehaving commenced by having rhymed verses, and preservingby character and by religion, with an inviolable respect,the ancient usages, have never had but a mediocre poetry,absolutely foreign toepopœia.[205]Their principal sacredbooks, calledKings, are composed of symbolic or hieroglyphiccharacters, forming by groups sorts of tableaux, of profoundand often sublime conception, but bereft of what we wouldcall eloquence of language. These are mute images, incommunicableby means of the voice, and which the readermust consider with the eyes and meditate long upon in orderto comprehend them.

The Tartars who reign today in China and who aredistinguished from the others by the epithet of Manchus,although possessors of a formed tongue whose richnesscertain authors praise,[206]have not any kind of poetry as Ihave already remarked.[207]The other Tartars were hardlymore advanced before being placed by their conquestswithin reach of the learning of the vanquished people.The Turks had no alphabetical characters. The Hunswere ignorant even of its existence. The proud vanquisherof Asia, Genghis Khan did not find, according to the besthistorians, a single man among the Mongolians capable ofwriting his despatches. The alphabet of fourteen lettersthat the Uïgurian Tartars possess, appears to have beengiven them by the ancient Persians,[208]from whom they alsoreceived the little that they knew of poetry.

These Persians, today imitators of the Arabs, were invery remote times disciples of the Indians. Their sacredtongue then called Zend, in which are written the fragmentsthat remain to us of Zoroaster, was a dialect ofSanskrit.[209]These fragments that we owe to the indefatigable zeal ofAnquetil Duperron, appear to be written, as the Vedas, oras all the sacred books of India, in cadenced prose. AftertheZend-Avesta, the most famous book among the Parseesis theBoun-Dehesh, written in Pehlevi, and containing thecosmogony of Zoroaster. Pehlevi, which is derived fromChaldaic Nabatæan, indicates atranslation,[210]and testifiesthat Persia had already passed from under the dominionof India to that of Assyria. But when, thanks to the conquestsof Cyrus, Persia had become free and mistress ofAsia, Pehlevi, which recalled its ancient servitude, wasbanished from the court by Bahman-Espandiar, whom wecall ArtaxerxesLongimanus.[211]The Parsee replaced it;this last dialect, modified by Greek under the successors ofAlexander, mixed with many Tartar words under the Parthiankings, polished by the Sassanidæ, usurped at last bythe Arabs and subjected to the intolerant influence of Islamism,had no longer its own character: it has taken, in themodern Persian, all the movements of the Arabic, notwithstandingits slight analogy withit [212];following itsexample, it has concentrated all the beauties of poetry inrhyme and since then it has had neither Eumolpœia norEpopœia.

As to the Arab, no one is ignorant of the degree to whichhe is a slave to rhyme. Already, by a sufficiently happyconjecture, a French writer had made the first use of rhymein France coincide with the irruption of the Moors intoEurope at the beginning of the eighthcentury.[213]He hassaid that Provence had been the door by which this noveltywas introduced into France. However difficult it mayappear of proving rigorously this assertion, lacking monuments,it cannot, however, be denied that it may be veryprobable, above all considering what influence the Arabsexercised upon the sciences and arts in the south of Franceafter they had penetrated through Spain. Now, there isno country on earth where the poetry that I have calledromantic has been cultivated with more constancy andsuccess than in Arabia; rhyme, if she has received it fromIndia, was naturalized there by long usage, in such a wayas to appear to have had birth there. If it must be said,the Arab tongue seems more apt at receiving it than theSanskrit. Rhyme seems more requisite to poetry there,on account of the great quantity and inflexibility of themonosyllables, which joining together only with muchdifficulty to form the numerous and rhythmic combinations,had need of its assistance to soften their harshness and tosupply the harmony which they lacked.

Neverthless, whatever may be the pretension of Arabiato the invention of rhyme, and even to that of romanticpoetry, one cannot be prevented, when one possesses withoutprejudice and to a certain extent the distinguishingcharacter of the Asiatic languages, from seeing that thereare proofs in the Arabic itself which give evidence in favourof India. Such is, for example, the wordDiwan,[214]by whichthe Arabs designate the collection of their ancientpoetries.[215]This word, which is attached to the Sanskrit expressionDewa orDiwa, designates all that is divine, celestial; allthat emanates from the UniversalIntelligence [216]:it is thepoetry of the Greeks, the language of the gods, or the voiceof the Universal Being of the Egyptians and the Phœnicians.

However, the ArabicDiwan--that is to say, the poeticcollection of that nation, goes back to most ancient times.One finds in it verses attributed to the first Hebrew patriarchsand even to Adam [217];for since the introduction ofIslamism, the cosmogony of Moses has become that of theMussulmans, as it has been ours since the establishment ofChristianity. It is there, in thisdiwan, that the mostauthentic traditions are preserved: they are all in verseand resemble greatly, as to form and doubtless as to substance,that which the monk of St. André has transmittedto us through the court of Charlemagne. It is the samechivalrous spirit and the same romantic fictions. ThePersian poet Firdausi appears to have followed similartraditions concerning the ancient kings of Iran, in his famouspoem entitledShah-Namah.[218]The wonders which reignin these traditions have been transmitted no doubt by theArabs, with the artifice of rhyme: both have the same spirit.The protecting fairies of the knights, the giant persecutorsof ladies, the enchanters, the magic, and all those illusionsare the fruits of that brilliant and dreamy imagination whichcharacterizes the modern Orientals. We have enthusiasticallyenjoyed them in the depths of the barbarity where wewere plunged; we have allowed ourselves to be drawn bythe charms of rhyme, like children in the cradle, whom theirnurses put to sleep by the monotonous sound of a lullaby.Escaped from that state of languor, and struck at last witha gleam of real intelligence, we have compared Greece andArabia, the songs of epopœia and those of the ballads; wehave blushed at our choice; we have wished to change it;but owing to the captivating form always more or less thesubstance, we have only succeeded in making mixturesmore or less happy, according to the secondary mode thatwe follow.

Rhyme, brought into Europe by the Arabs more thana thousand years ago, spread by degrees among all nations,in such a way that when one wishes to examine its originwith accuracy, one no longer knows whether it is indigenousthere or exotic. One finds on all sides only rhymed verses.The Spanish, Portuguese, Italians, French, Germans of alldialects, Hollanders, Danes, Swedes and Norwegians, allrhyme.[219]The modern Greeks themselves have forgottentheir ancient rhythm in order to assume ourstyle.[220]Ifanything could, however, make one doubt that rhyme maybe natural to Europe, it is that ancient Scandinavian, inwhich are written the precious fragments which have comedown to us concerning the mythological cult of the Celts,our ancestors, does not rhyme; also it rises often to thesublimity of Eumolpœia.[221]This observation, which makesus reject Arabia, will take us back to India, if we considerthat there is plausible presumption in believing that thePhœnicians and the Egyptians who had so much intercoursewith the Arabs, did not rhyme, since the sacred book ofthe Hebrews, theSepher, that we call theBible, and whichappears to have issued from the Egyptian sanctuaries, iswritten in cadenced rhyme, as theZend-Avesta of the Parseesand theVedas of theIndians.[222]

The outline that I have just sketched confirms,Messieurs,what I have wished to prove to you and which is the subjectof this discourse, the distinction that should be madebetween the essence and the form of poetry, and the reciprocalinfluence that should be recognized between thesetwo parts of the science. You have seen that whereverrhyme has dominated exclusively, as in Asia among theChinese, Arabians, Persians; as in Europe among all themodern peoples, it has excluded epopœia and has replacedallegorical genius by the spirit of romantic fictions; youhave seen that wherever eumolpique poetry has wished toappear, whether moral or rational, theosophical or philosophical,it has been obliged to have recourse to a particularprose, when the form of poetry has resisted it, as has happenedin China for theKings, in Persia for theZend-Avesta,in Arabia for theKoran; you have seen that whereverpoetry has been preserved purely rhythmical, as in Greeceand with the Romans, it has admitted eumolpœia and epopœiawithout mixture; and finally, that wherever the twoforms meet each other with all their modifications, as inIndia, it gives way in turn to all the different kinds, intellectualand rational, epic, dramatic, and romantic.

Now, what Hindustan was for Asia, France should befor Europe. The French tongue, as the Sanskrit, shouldtend towards universality; it should be enriched with allthe learning acquired in the past centuries, so as to transmitit to future generations. Destined to float upon the(débris)of a hundred different dialects, it ought to be able to savefrom the shipwreck of time all their beauties and all theirremarkable productions. Nevertheless, how will it bedone, if its poetic forms are not open to the spirit of allthe poetries, if its movement, arrested by obstacles cannotequal that of the tongues which have preceded it in thesame career? By what means, I ask you, will it succeedto the universal dominion of Sanskrit, if, dragging alwaysafter it the frivolous jingling of Arabic sounds, it cannoteven succeed to the partial domination of Greek or Latin?Must it be necessary then that it betray its high destinies,and that the providential decree which founds the Europeanempire, exempt it from the glory which it promises to theFrench name?

I have told you,Messieurs, in beginning this discourse,that it was in the interest of science alone, that I enteredthis career: it is assuredly not by my poor poetic talent thatI have aspired to the honour of occupying your attention;but by a generous instinct, which, making me ignore manyof the considerations which might have arrested me, haspersuaded me that I could be useful. I have dared to conceivethe possibility of composing, in French, eumolpiqueverse, which might neither be measured by musical rhythmforeign to our tongue, nor enchained by rhyme opposed toall intellectual and rational movement, and which howevermight have neither the harshness, nor the discord of thatwhich has been called, up to this time, blank verse.

Many French writers have tried to make verse deprivedof rhyme. Some have sought to imitate the measures ofthe ancients, others have satisfied themselves with copyingcertain moderns who do not rhyme. Each of them hasmisunderstood the essential character of his tongue. Vossiusalone appears to have foreseen the principles withoutdeveloping them, when he has said that French verse mightbe considered as having only onefoot.[223]This is exactlytrue in examining rhythm only in itself, and giving to eachhemistich the name of time: but if one considers this onefoot, whether hexameter or pentameter, as formed of twotimes equal or unequal, it is perceived that it participates,through its final, in two natures: the one strong and forceful,that we name masculine; the other soft and languid,that we call feminine. Therefore, French verse having butone rhythmic foot, differs, however, in the style of this footand can be considered in two relations. Let us take forexample the hexameter verse. The rhythmic foot whichconstitutes it is composed of two equal times distinguishedby the cæsura, the last of which is masculine or feminine:Masculine, as in:

Rome, l’unique objet de mon ressentiment!

Rome, à qui vient ton bras d’immoler mon amant!

Feminine, as in:

Rome qui t’a vu naître et que ton cœur adore!

Rome enfin que je hais parce qu’elle t’honore!

In rhymed verses, such as these I have just cited, twofeet of the same kind are obliged to follow one another onaccount of the rhyme which links them; they then form butone whole and, proceeding abreast without being separated,they injure by their forced mass the rapidity of expressionand flight of thought. If a third foot of the same kindoccur with the other two feet, rhyming together, it wouldhave to rhyme with them to prevent an insupportable discordance,which is not tolerated; a fourth or a fifth foot wouldsubmit to the same law, so that, if the poet wished to fillhis piece with masculine verses alone, it would be necessarythat he should make them proceed upon a single rhyme, asthe Arabs do today and as our early troubadours did,following their example. The French poet can vary hisrhyme only by varying the style of his verses and by minglingalternately together the masculine and feminine finals.

As these two kinds of finals are dissimilar without beingopposed, they may be brought together without the needof rhyming; their meeting, far from being disagreeable is,on the contrary, only pleasing; two finals of the same kind,whether masculine or feminine, can never clash withoutcausing the same sound—that is, without rhyming; but it isnot thus with the finals of different kinds, since the rhyme isimpossible in this case. So that, to make what I call eumolpiqueverses, it suffices to avoid the meeting of finals of thesame kind, whose impact necessitates the rhyme, by makingone kind succeed another continually, and opposing alternatelythe masculine and feminine, the mingling of which isirrelevant to eumolpœia. Here is all the mechanism of myverses: they are fluent as to form; as to the essence which isexpedient for them—that is another thing: for it is rarelyencountered.

Those who have made blank verse in French havespoken justly of it with the greatest contempt; these verses,miserable as to substance, without poetic fire, written as theflattest prose, lacking movement and grace, had, furthermore,the insupportable fault of not recognizing the geniusof the French tongue, by making finals of the same kindclash constantly, and by not distinguishing that which iscalled rhyme from that which repels it.

Now that I have made as clear as possible my motivesand my means, there remains only,Messieurs, for me tosubmit to your judgment the translation that I have made,in eumolpique verse, of the piece of Greek poetry whichcomprises the doctrine of Pythagoras in seventy-one linescalled,(par excellence), Golden Verses. This piece, venerableby its antiquity and by the celebrated philosopher whosename it bears, belonging to eumolpœia, without any mixtureof passion, is sufficiently known to savants so that I neednot speak about what concerns its particular merit. Thiswould mean, moreover, a matter of some explanations.At any rate, I believe it advisable before passing to thisfinal subject, to give you certain examples of the use of myverses as applied to epopœia, so that you may judge, sincethey are in hands as incapable as mine, what they mightbecome when used by men of superior genius and talent.I will choose, for this purpose, the exposition and invocationof the principal epic poems of Europe, in order to have afixed subject for comparison. I will translate line by line,and will imitate, as well as is possible for me, the movementand harmony of the poet that I may have before me. Thislabour, which I hope will not be without some interest forthe illustrious academicians whom I am addressing, willfurnish me the occasion of showing by certain characteristictraits the genius of the language and poetry of the differentmodern peoples of Europe; and I will terminate thus theoutline that I have sketched touching the poetic conditionsof the principal nations of the earth.

§ VII

I am beginning with the creator of epopœia, with Homer.It is easy to see by the manner in which this divine manblends, from the opening lines of theIliad, the exposition andinvocation, that, full of a celestial inspiration that he wasthe first to receive, he seeks to pour forth the superabundantfire which consumes him, and to throw into the soulof his hearer the impassioned enthusiasm which mastersand controls his own. The following lines will sufficeto make known the subject of a work which fills twenty-fourcantos.

Déesse! viens chanter la colère d’Achille,

Fatale, et pour les Grecs si fertile en malheurs,

Qui, d’avance, aux enfers, précipitant en foule

Les âmes des héros, livra leurs corps sanglants

Aux dogues affamés: ainsi Jupiter même

Le voulut, quand la haine eut divisé les cœurs

Du roi des rois Atride et du divin Achille.

Lequel des Immortels provoqua ce courroux?

Apollon irrité, qui, pour punir Atride,

Ravagea son armée: et les peuples mourraient!

O Goddess! sing the wrath of Peleus’ son,

Achilles; sing the deadly wrath that brought

Woes numberless upon the Greeks, and swept

To Hades many a valiant soul, and gave

Their limbs a prey to dogs and birds of air,—

For so had Jove appointed,—from the time

When the two chiefs, Atrides, King of men,

And great Achilles, parted first as foes.

Which of the gods put strife between the chiefs,

That they should thus contend? Latona’s son

And Jove’s. Incensed against the king, he bade

A deadly pestilence appear among

The army, and the men were perishing.

Bryant.

Μῆνιν ἄειδε, θεὰ, Πηληϊάδεω Ἀχιλῆος,

οὐλομένην, ἣ μυρί’ Ἀχαιοῖς ἄλγε’ ἔθηκεν,

πολλὰς δ’ ἰφθίμους ψυχὰς Ἄϊδι προΐαψεν

ἡρώων, αὐτοὺς δὲ ἑλώρια τεῦχε κύνεσσιν

οἰωνοῖσί τε πᾶσι (Διὸς δ’ ἐτελείετο βουλή),

ἐξ οὗ δὴ τὰ πρῶτα διαστήτην ἐρίσαντε

Ἀτρείδης τε, ἄναξ ἀνδρῶν, καὶ δῖος Ἀχιλλεύς.

Τίς τ’ ἄρ σφωε θεῶν ἔριδι ξυνέηκε μάχεσθαι;

Λητοῦς καὶ Διὸς υἱός. Ὁ γὰρ βασιλῆϊ χολωθεὶς

νοῦσον ἀνὰ στρατὸν ὦρσε κακὴν, ὀλέκοντο δὲ λαοὶ.

I dispense with making any reflection upon the charmof the original verses and upon the admirable sentimentwhich terminates them. It would be a very strange thingnot to be impressed by the beauties of this poetry. Letus pass on to Vergil.

Even though I should not say it, it would suffice nowto compare the Greek poet with the Latin poet, in order toperceive that the latter received only a second inspiration,transmitted by the inspiring power of the former. Vergil,less ardent, more tender, more correct, admits at once theluminous distinction; far from blending the exposition andinvocation, he separates them, affects a tone more simple,promises little, exposes with timidity the subject of hispoem, summons his Muse, and seems to persuade it, evenless than the reader, to be favourable to him. He employsthese lines:

Je chante les combats, et ce Héros troyen,

Qui, fuyant Ilion aborda l’Italie

Le premier: sur la terre errant, et sur les mers,

En butte aux traits cruels de Junon irritée,

Il souffrit mille maux; avant qu’il établît

Ses Dieux chez les Latins, et fondât une ville,

Berceau d’Albe, de Rome et de ses hauts remparts.

Muse! rappelle-moi quels motifs de vengeance

Excitaient la Déesse, et pourquoi son courroux

S’obstinait à poursuive un Héros magnanime?

Tant de haine entre-t-elle au cœur des Immortels!

Arms and the man I sing, who first,

By fate of Ilium realm amerced,

To fair Italia onward bore,

And landed on Lavinium’s shore:—

Long tossing earth and ocean o’er,

By violence of heaven, to sate

Fell Juno’s unforgetting hate:

Much laboured too in battle-field,

Striving his city’s walls to build,

And give his Gods a home:

Thence come the hardy Latin brood,

The ancient sires of Alba’s blood,

And lofty-rampired Rome.

Say, Muse, for godhead how disdained,

Or wherefore worth, Heaven’s queen constrained

That soul of piety so long

To turn the wheel, to cope with wrong.

Can heavenly natures nourish hate

So fierce, so blindly passionate?

Conington.

Arma virumque cano, Trojæ qui primus ab oris

Italiam, fato profugus, Lavinaque venit

Litora, multum ille et terris jactatus et alto

Vi superûm, sævæ memorem Junonis ob iram,

Multa quoque et bello passus, dum conderet urbem

Inferretque deos Latio: genus unde Latinum,

Albanique patres atque altæ mœnia Romæ.

Musa, mihi causas memora, quo numine læso,

Quidve dolens, regina deûm tot volvere casus

Insignem pietate virum, tot adire labores

Impulerit. Tantæne animis cœlestibus iræ?

It can be observed that Vergil, although he places himselfforemost and although he says,I sing, begins neverthelessin a manner much less animated, much less sure thanthe Greek poet, who, transported beyond himself, seems toimpose upon his Muse the subject of his songs, interrogatesher, and then inspired by her, responds. The Latin poetfinishes, like his model, with a sentence; but it is easy to feelthat this apostrophe,

Can heavenly natures nourish hate

So fierce, so blindly passionate?

although very beautiful, contains less depth, less feeling,and holds less intimately to the subject than this sublimereflection:

... and the men were perishing!

Someone has said that Vergil had imitated in his expositionthe commencement of theOdyssey of Homer; this isa mistake. One finds always in the exposition of theOdysseythe real character of a first inspiration blended with theinvocation, although more calm and less alluring than in theIliad. Here is the translation:

Du plus sage Héros, Muse, dis les traverses

Sans nombre, après qu’il eut triomphé d’Ilion:

Rapelle les cités, les peuples, les usages,

Qu’il connut, et les mers où longtemps il erra:

À quels soins dévorants, à quels maux l’exposèrent

L’amour de la patrie et noble désir

D’y mener ses guerriers! Vain désir: ils osèrent,

Insensés! du Soleil dévorer les troupeaux;

Et ce Dieu, du retour leur ravit la journée.

Fais-nous part de ces faits, fille de Jupiter.

Tell me, O Muse, of that sagacious man

Who, having overthrown the sacred town

Of Ilium, wandered far and visited

The capitals of many nations, learned

The customs of their dwellers and endured

Great suffering on the deep; his life was oft

In peril, as he laboured to bring back

His comrades to their homes. He saved them not,

Though earnestly he strove; they perished all,

Through their own folly; for they banqueted,

Madmen! upon the oxen of the Sun,—

The all-o’erlooking Sun, who cut them off

From their return. O Goddess, virgin-child

Of Jove, relate some part of this to me.

Bryant.

Ἄνδρα μοι ἔννεπε, μοῦσα, πολύτροπον, ὃς μάλα πολλὰ

πλάγχθη, ἐπεὶ Τροίης ἱερὸν πτολίεθρον ἔπερσεν,

πολλῶν δ’ἀνθρώπων ἴδεν ἄστεα καὶ νόον ἔγνω·

πολλὰ δ’ ὅ γ’ ἐν πόντῳ πάθεν ἄλγεα ὃν κατὰ θυμόν,

ἀρνύμενος ἥν τε ψυχὴν καὶ νόστον ἑταίρων.

ἀλλ’ οὐδ’ ὧς ἑτάρους ἐρρύσατο ἱέμενός περ·

αὐτῶν γὰρ σφετέρῃσιν ἀτασθαλίῃσιν ὄλοντο,

νήπιοι, οἳ κατὰ βοῦς Ὑπερίονος Ἠελίοιο

ἤσθιον· αὐτὰρ ὁ τοῖσιν ἀφείλετο νόστιμον ἦμαρ.

τῶν ἁμόθεν γε, θεὰ θύγατερ Διός, εἰπὲ καὶ ἡμῖν.

The talent of Homer shows itself completely in theOdyssey; it dominates the genius there, so to speak, as muchas the genius had dominated it in theIliad. The fire whichanimates theIliad has been, with reason, compared to thatof the sun arrived at the height of its course, and the splendourwhich shines in theOdyssey to that with which theoccident is coloured on the evening of a fine day. Perhapsif we had hisThebaid, we would see those brilliant lightswhich accompany the aurora, developed there, and thenwe would possess in all its shades this immortal genius whodepicted all nature.

There are people who, feeling by a sort of intuition thatHomer had been created the poetic incentive of Europe,even as I have said, and judging on the other hand thatAriosto had made an epic poem, are convinced that theItalian poet had copied the Greek; but this is not so. Ariosto,who has made only a romanesque poem, has not receivedthe inspiration of Homer; he has simply followed thefictions attributed to Archbishop Turpin and clothing themwith forms borrowed from the Arabs by the troubadoursmakes himself creator in this secondary style. The rhymeis as essential to it as it is harmful to veritable epopœia; thisis why the eumolpique verses never conform to it in theslightest degree. To apply them to it, is to make seriouswhat is by nature gay, it is to give a character of force andof truth to what is only light, airy, and fantastic. I amabout, however, to translate the beginning of his poem, inorder to furnish, by the shocking disparity which existsbetween the romantic essence of his poetry and the epic formthat I here adapt, a new proof of what I have said.

Je veux chanter les Dames, les Guerriers,

L’amour, l’honneur, et les jeux et les armes,

Durant ces temps où les fiers Sarrasins,

Des mers d’Afrique, abordèrent en France,

Pour seconder les fureurs d’Agramant,

Le jeune roi, dont l’orgueilleuse audace

Pensait venger la mort du vieux Trojan,

Sur l’empereur des Romains, Charlemagne.

Je veux aussi raconter de Roland,

Chose inouïe, autant en vers qu’en prose;

Dire l’amour qui rendit furieux

Ce paladin, auparavant si sage;

Si toutefois celle qui m’a charmé,

Qui va minant ma raison d’heure en heure,

M’en laisse assez pour remplir dignement

Mon entreprise et tenir ma promesse.

Of Loves and Ladies, Knights and Arms, I sing,

Of Courtesies, and many a Daring Feat;

And from those ancient days my story bring,

When Moors from Afric passed in hostile fleet,

And ravaged France, with Agramant their King,

Flushed with his youthful rage and furious heat;

Who on King Charles’, the Roman emperor’s head

Had vowed due vengeance for Troyano dead.

In the same strain of Roland will I tell

Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme,

On whom strange madness and rank fury fell,

A man esteemed so wise in former time;

If she, who to like cruel pass has well

Nigh brought my feeble wit which fain would climb

And hourly wastes my sense, concede me skill

And strength my daring promise to fulfil.

W. R. Rose.

Le donne, i cavalier, l’arme, gl’amori

Le cortesíe, l’audaci imprese io canto,

Che furo al tempo che passaro i Mori

D’Africa il mare, e in Francia nocquer tanto,

Seguendo l’ire e i giovenil furori

D’Agramante lor re, che si diè vanto

Di vendicar la morte di Troiano

Sopra re Carlo imperator romano.

Dirò d’Orlando in un medesmo tratto

Cosa non detta in prosa mai, nè in rima;

Che per amor venne in furore e matto,

D’uom che si saggio era stimato prima:

Se da colei che tal quasi m’ha fatto

Che’l poco ingegno ad or ad or mi lima,

Me ne sarà però tanto concesso,

Che mi basti a finir quanto ho promesso.

It is very easy to see, in reading these two strophes,that there exists in the exposition no sort of resemblanceeither with that of Homer, or with that of Vergil. It is athird style, wholly foreign to the other two. Homer minglingthe exposition and the invocation, commands his Museto sing what she inspires in him; Vergil distinguishing onefrom the other, prays his Muse to acquaint him with whathe is about to sing; whereas Ariosto, announcing simplythe subject of his songs, makes no invocation. It is evidentthat he relies upon himself, and that in the style thathe adopts he understands very well that he has no otherMuse, no other guide than his imagination. His subjectis in accord with his manner of treating it. If one wishes toreflect upon this decisive point, one will feel and realize,for the first time perhaps, why in the opinion of all theworld concerning two works from the same hand,La PucelleandLa Henriade, the one is a poem, whereas the other, composedwith a far greater pretension, is not. Voltaire, inimitating Ariosto in a subject that he has rendered romanesqueand frivolous, has received the second inspiration; butin imitating Lucan in an historic subject he received nothing,for Lucan, creator of a mixed style, had no inspiration thathe could communicate.

I have said what I thought of Camoens: it is useless toquote the exposition of his poem that has nothing remarkable,particularly since Tasso has so far surpassed him.

Tasso was worthy of receiving a veritable inspiration.His lofty genius, his pure and brilliant imagination broughthim nearer to Vergil than to Ariosto; and if he had beeninspired even through the Latin poet, he would have shownEurope what the magnetic power of Homer was, althoughacting only in its third degree. But the prejudices of educationworking in him even without his knowledge, and theinfluence that chivalresque poetry had attained in Italy,did not permit him either to forsake entirely the chroniclesof Archbishop Turpin, or above all, to make any changes inthe consecrated form. All that he could do in a mostgrave and serious historical subject was to mix a little allegoricalgenius with a great deal of romanesque fiction; sothat, becoming inspired at the same time with Ariosto,Lucan, and Vergil, he made a mixed work, which, under theform of a lengthy song, contained the essence of epopœia,of history, and of romance. This work is one of the mostentertaining poems that one can read; the only one perhapswhich a translation in prose can harm but little. The inequalityof its texture takes away nothing from the interestthat it inspires. It pleases, but it does not instruct. Ifthe eumolpique lines were applied to it throughout, it wouldnot sustain them; for it is in substance only a very beautifulballad; nevertheless, here and there are found partswhich could become sublime. His exposition, imitatingVergil, reveals them very well. They are as follows:

Je chante les combats pieux, et le Guerrier

Qui délivra du Christ la tombe renommée.

Combien il déploya de génie et d’ardeur!

Combien il supporta de maux dans cette guerre!

Vainement les enfers s’armèrent; vainement

Les peuples de l’Asie aux Africains s’unirent:

Favorisé du Ciel, sous ses drapeaux sacrés,

Vainqueur, il ramena ses compagnons fidèles.

Divine Muse! ô toi dont le front radieux

Ne ceint point sur le Pinde un laurier périssable,

Mais qui, parmi les chœurs des habitants du Ciel,

Chantes, le front orné d’étoiles immortelles,

Viens, inspire à mon sein tes célestes ardeurs;

Fais briller dans mes vers tes clartés, et pardonne

Si, parant quelquefois l’austère vérité,

Je mêle à tes attraits des grâces étrangères.

I sing the pious arms and Chief, who freed

The Sepulchre of Christ from thrall profane:

Much did he toil in thought, and much in deed;

Much in the glorious enterprise sustain;

And Hell in vain opposed him; and in vain

Afric and Asia to the rescue pour’d

Their mingled tribes;—Heaven recompensed his pain,

And from all fruitless sallies of the sword,

True to the Red-Cross flag his wandering friends restored.

O thou, the Muse, that not with fading palms

Circlest thy brows on Pindus, but among

The Angels warbling their celestial psalms,

Hast for the coronal a golden throng

Of everlasting stars! make thou my song

Lucid and pure; breathe thou the flame divine

Into my bosom; and forgive the wrong,

If with grave truth light fiction I combine,

And sometimes grace my page with other flowers than thine!

Wiffen.

Canto l’armi pietose, e’l Capitano

Che’l gran sepolcro liberò di Christo:

Molto egli oprò col senno e con la mano;

Molto soffri nel glorioso acquisto:

E invano l’Inferno a lui s’oppose, e invano

S’armò d’Asia, e dì Libia il popol misto;

Chè il Ciel diè favore, e sotto ai santi

Segni ridusse i suoi compagni erranti.

O Musa, tu, che di caduchi allori

Non circondi la fronte in Elicona

Ma su nel Ciel infra i beati cori,

Hai di stelle immortali aurea corona,

Tu spira al petto mio celesti ardori,

Tu rischiara il mio canto, e tu perdona,

S’intesso fregi al ver, s’adorno in parte

D’altri diletti, che de’ tuoi, le carte.

The captivating enthusiasm of Homer, the majesticsimplicity of Vergil are not there; there is a sweetness ofexpression, a purity of imagery which please. This mightbe greater, but then the melancholy of the romance wouldexclude it and the reader would demand the full force ofepopœia.

Besides, the Italians have tried, over and over again, tovary the form of their verses; some have wished to measurethem by musical rhythm; others have contented themselveswith making blank verse. They have neither succeededcompletely nor failed completely. Their language sweetand musical lacks force whether in good or in evil. Itswords might indeed, strictly speaking, be composed of longand short syllables; but as they terminate, nearly all, inthe soft and languid style that we call feminine, it results,therefore, that in the measured verses the poets lack thelong syllables to constitute the last foot and to form thespondee; and that in the blank verse they are obliged toterminate them all in the same style; so that with the measurethey create only lame verses, and without the rhymethey make them all equallylanguid.[224]

I recall having sometimes read French writers who,not having investigated the character of their tongue, havereproached it for its feminine syllables and have believedthat their concurrence was harmful to its force and its harmony.These writers have scarcely considered what thislanguage would be, deprived of its feminine sounds. Forwith the little force that it would gain on one side, it wouldacquire such a harshness on the other, that it would beimpossible to draw from it four consecutive lines that wouldbe endurable. If all its finals were masculine, and if nothingcould change it otherwise, it would be necessary to renouncepoetry, or like the Arabs, be resolved to compose wholepoems in the same rhyme.

We have just seen that the lack of masculine finalstakes away all energy from the Italian tongue; a contrarydefect would deprive the French of this(mélange) of sweetnessand force which makes it the(première langue) ofEurope. The English language is lacking in preciselywhat the writers of whom I have spoken desired eliminatedfrom the French, without foreseeing the gravedisadvantages of their desire: it has no femininefinals [225];also it is in everything the opposite of the Italian. Itis true that it possesses great energy, great boldness ofexpression, and a grammatical liberty which goes tothe full extent; but deprived of sweetness and softness, itis, if I may say it, like those brittle metals whose strengthis in stiffness, and which is broken when one would makethem flexible. The poverty of its rhymes, denuded forthe most part of accuracy of accent and of harmony inconsonants, has for a long time engaged the English poetsin making blank verse; and it must be admitted that, notwithstandingthe defect inherent in their tongue and whichconsists, as I have just said, in the absolute lack of femininefinals, they have succeeded in this better than any of thepoets of other nations. These lines, all imperfect in theirharmony, are however, as to form, the only eumolpiqueverse that they could make. Shakespeare felt it and madeuse of it in his tragedies.

Shakespeare with the creative genius with which naturehad endowed him, would have borne dramatic art to itsperfection in these modern times, if circumstances had beenas favourable to him as they were adverse. Emulator ofÆschylus, he might have equalled and perhaps surpassedhim, if he had had at his disposal a mine so rich, so brilliantas that of the mysteries of Orpheus; if he had made use ofa language so harmonious, if his taste had been able to berefined at the school of Pindar or of Homer. At the epochof his birth, Europe scarcely emerged from the gloom ofbarbarism; the theatre, given over to ridiculous mountebanks,profaned in indecent farces the incomprehensiblemysteries of the Christian religion, and the English tongue,still crude and unformed, had not succeeded in amalgamatingin one single body the opposed dialects of which it wassuccessively formed. In spite of these obstacles, Shakespearestamped upon England a movement of which Europefelt the influence. Raised by the sole force of his genius tothe essence of dramatic poetry, he dared to seek for hissubjects in the mythology of Odin, and put upon the stage,inHamlet and inMacbeth, tableaux of the highestcharacter.[226]Like Æschylus he conducted one to virtue by terror; butunfortunately the taste of the spectators, upon which hewas forced to model his, led him to degrade his tableauxby grotesque figures: the English people were not sufficientlyadvanced to comprehend the moral end of the tragedy.They must be amused; and Shakespeare succeeded only atthe expense of the beauties of the art. Historic facts andtrivial scenes replaced the mysterious and sublime subjects.

In London, the dramatic muse was turbulent and licentious;as in Madrid it had been chivalrous and gallant.Everywhere the theatre had to accommodate itself to thetaste of the people. The first regular tragedy which PierreCorneille composed in France was derived from a Spanishballad. Madrid at that time gave the tone to Europe.It needed much of the time and all the prosperity of LouisXIV. to throw off the unseasonable ascendancy that thisproud nation had assumed over publicopinion.[227]Notwithstandingthe efforts of Corneille, of Racine, and ofMolière, the Théâtre Français retained always the romanesquetone that it had originally received. All that thesethree men could do was, by lofty sentiments, by purity offorms, by regularity of the customs and characters, to passover what was, in reality, defective. They came thus togive to modern dramatic art all the perfection of which itwas susceptible. Shakespeare had been in London thesuccessor of Æschylus; Corneille received in France theinspiration of Sophocles; Racine, that of Euripides; andMolière united as in a sheaf the spirit of Menander, ofTerence, and of Plautus.

When I compare Shakespeare with Æschylus, I wantto make it clearly understood that I regard him as the regeneratorof the theatre in Europe, and superior to Corneilleand Racine as to dramatic essence, although he may beassuredly much inferior to them as to form. Æschylus,in Greek, was inspired by Homer; while, on the contrary, itwas Shakespeare who inspired Milton. It is known thatParadise Lost was at first conceived as the subject of atragedy, and that it was only after reflection that the Englishpoet saw therein the material for an epic poem. I willtell later on, in speaking of theMessiah of Klopstock, whathas prevented these two subjects, which appear equallyepics, from attaining wholly to the majesty of epopœia.As many of the motives that I have to offer apply to thetwo works, I will thus avoid useless repetition. I shallbegin by translating the exposition and invocation of Milton,by imitating its movement and its harmony, as I have donewith the other poets.

De l’homme, viens chanter la disgrâce, et la fruit

De cet arbre fatal, dont le goût homicide

Livra le Monde au crime, à la mort, aux malheurs,

Et nous ravit Eden, jusqu’au moment qu’un Homme

Plus grand, par son trépas, racheta le séjour

Du bonheur: viens, ô Muse! ô toi qui, sur la cime

Se Sinaï, d’Oreb, en secret inspiras

La Berger d’Israël, quand d’une voix sacrée

Il enseignait comment et la terre et des cieux

Sortirent du Chaos! ou bien, si tu préfères

Les sommets de Sion, les bords du Siloë,

Qui, près du Temple saint, roule ses flots, ô Muse!

Viens protéger de là mes chants audacieux,

Mes chants qui, surpassant d’un essor non timide,

Les monts Aoniens, vont raconter des faits

Que n’ont point encor dits la prose ni la rime.

Of Man’s first disobedience, and the fruit

Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste

Brought death into the world, and all our woe,

With loss of Eden, till one greater Man

Restore us and regain the blissful seat,

Sing, heavenly Muse, that, on the secret top

Of Oreb or of Sinai, didst inspire

That shepherd, who first taught the chosen seed,

In the beginning how the heavens and earth

Rose out of chaos; or if Sion hill

Delight thee more, and Siloa’s brook that flow’d

Fast by the oracle of God; I thence

Invoke thy aid to my adventurous song,

That with no middle flight intends to soar

Above the Aonian mount, while it pursues

Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme.

This invocation is manifestly in imitation of Homer,from whom Milton has received the second inspiration withoutthe intermediary—Vergil. One can observe in theEnglish poet the same movement and almost as muchforce as in the Greek poet, but much less clarity, precision,and particularly harmony. Nearly all of these defectspertain to his subject and his tongue. Circumstanceswere not favourable to Milton. His lines could not havebeen better with the elements that he was forced to employ.All imperfect as they are, they are worth much more thanthose of Klopstock; for at least they are in the characterof his tongue, whereas those of the German poet are not.Milton is satisfied with throwing off the yoke of rhyme, andhas made eumolpique lines of one foot only, measured byten syllables. Their defect, inherent in the English idiom,consists, as I have said, in having all the lines bearing equallythe masculine final, jarring continually one with the other.Klopstock has aspired to make, in German, verses measuredby the musical rhythm of the Greeks; but he has not perceivedthat he took as long and short, in his tongue, syllableswhich were not such in musical rhythm, but by accent andprosody, which is quite different. The German tongue,composed of contracted words and consequently bristlingwith consonants, bears no resemblance to the Greek, whosewords, abounding in vowels, were, on the contrary, madeclear by their elongation. The rhythmic lines of Klopstockare materially a third longer than those of Homer,although the German poet has aspired to build them on anequal measure.[228]Their rhythmic harmony, if it existsthere, is absolutely factitious; it is a pedantic imitation andnothing more. In order to make the movement of theselines understood in French, and to copy as closely as possibletheir harmony, it is necessary to compose lines of twocæsuras, or what amounts to the same, to employ constantlya line and a half to represent a single one. Here are thefirst fourteen lines which contain the exposition and invocationof the Messiah:

Des coupables humains, célèbre, Ame immortelle, l’heureuse délivrance,

Que sur terre envoyé le Messie accomplit dans son humanité:

Dis comment il rendit les fils du premier homme à leur Auteur céleste;

Souffrant et mis à mort, enfin glorifié. Ainsi s’exécuta

Le décret éternel. En vain Satan rebelle opposa son audace

A ce Fils du Très-Haut; et Judas vainement s’éleva contre lui:

Réconciliateur et Rédempteur suprême, il consomma son œuvre.

Mais quoi, noble action! que Dieu seul en son cœur miséricordieux,

Connaît, la Poésie, en son exil terrestre, pourra-t-elle te suivre?

Non, Esprit créateur, c’est à toi, devant qui je m’incline en tremblant,

A rapprocher de moi cette action divine, à toi-même semblable.

Viens donc, conduis-la-moi dans l’état immortel de toute sa beauté;

Remplis-la de ton feu, toi que, sondant l’abîme du Très-Haut, peux de l’homme

Issu de la poussière, et fragile et mortel, te faire un temple saint.

My Soul, degenerate man’s redemption sing,

Which the Messiah in his human state

On earth accomplished, by which, suffering slain

And glorify’d, unto the Love of God

The progeny of Adam he restored.

Such was the everlasting Will divine,

Th’ infernal Fiend opposed him, Judah stood

In opposition proud; but vain their rage:

He did the deed, he wrought out man’s salvation.

Yet, wondrous Deed, which th’ all-compassionate

Jehovah alone completely comprehends,

May Poesy presume from her remote

Obscurity to venture on thy theme?

Creative Spirit, in whose presence here

I humbly’ adore, her efforts consecrate,

Conduct her steps and lead her, me to meet,

Of transport full, with glorious charms endow’d

And power immortal, imitating Thee.

(Egestorff.)

Sing, unserterbliche Seele, der sündigen Menschen Erlösung,

Die der Messias auf Erden, in seiner Menscheit vollendet;

Und durch die er Adams Geschlecht zu der Liebe der Gottheit,

Leidend, getödtet und verherlichet, weider erhöhet hat.

Also geschah des Ewigen Wille. Vergebens erhub sich

Satan gegen der göttlichen Sohn; umsonst stand Juda

Gegen ihn auf; er that’s, und wollbrachte die grosse Versöhnung.

Aber, o That, die allein der Albarmherzige kennet,

Darf aus dunckler Ferne sich auch dir nahen die Dichtkunst?

Weihe sie, Geist, Schöpfer, vor dem ich hier still anbete,

Führe sie mir, als deine Nachahmerin, voiler Entzückung,

Voll unsterblicher Kraft, in verklärter Schönheit, entgegen.

Rüste mit deinem Feuer sie, du, der die Tiefen des Gottheit

Schaut und den Menschen, aus Staube gemacht, zum Tempel sich heiligt!

It is evident that in this exposition the movement ofHomer has been united by Klopstock to the ideas of Tasso.The German poet claims nevertheless the originality, andbelieves that he himself was called to enjoy the first inspiration.In order that this high aspiration might have beenrealized, a mass of learning very difficult to find would havebeen necessary. I will explain briefly this idea. I believethat the one who, disdaining to follow in the footsteps ofHomer or of Vergil, would wish to open another road toepopœia, should be well acquainted with the ground overwhich he ventures to trace it, and the goal toward whichhe aspires to conduct it; I think he should make himselfmaster of his subject so that nothing might remain obscureor unknown to him; so that if he should choose either thedownfall of Man, as Milton, or his rehabilitation, after theexample of Klopstock, he would be able to acquaint himselfwith the inner meaning of these mysteries, to explain all theconditions, to comprehend the beginning and the end, and,raising himself to the intellectual nature where they hadbirth, to spread light upon physical nature. This is thefirst attainment that I deem indispensable to the epic poet;I say that he should understand what he would sing. Homerknew what Ilium was, what Ithaca was; he could explainto himself the nature of Achilles and Helen, of Penelope andUlysses; consequently he could depict them. I do not wishto investigate here whether Milton has understood in thesame manner the beginning of the World and the nature ofSatan; nor whether Klopstock has well understood themystery of the incarnation of the Messiah. I only saythat if they have not understood these things, they cannotsing them in a manner really epic.

A defect which is common to these two poets, and whichis even noticeable in theJerusalem Delivered of Tasso, is,that everything which does not pertain to the part of thecelebrated hero, is by its impure, unfaithful, impious nature,governed by the Principle of evil, and as such consigned toeternal damnation. An insurmountable barrier separatesthe personages and makes them not alone enemies, butopposed, as much as good and evil, light and darkness.However, the passions act unknown even to the poet; thereader is hurried along, he forgets the fatal line of demarcation,and is deceived into becoming interested in Satan,into finding great, beautiful, and terrible, this enemy ofmankind; he trusts in Armida, he is moved by her troubles,and seconds with his vows those of a notorious magician,instrument of the Infernal Spirit. Matters go not thuswith Homer. The Greeks see in the Trojans, enemies,and not reprobates. Paris is culpable but not impious.Hector is a hero in whom one can be interested withoutshame, and the interest that one devotes to him reflectsupon Achilles and can even be increased. The gods aredivided; but Venus and Juno, Minerva and Mars, Vulcanand Neptune are of a like nature; and although divided inthe epic action, they are none the less venerated by bothparties, equal among each other and all equally subject toJupiter, who excites or checks their resentment. I knownot whether any one has already made this observation;but be that as it may, it is very important. One can attainto the sublimity of epopœia only if like Homer one knowshow to oppose the Powers which serve the hero with thePowers which persecute him. For if everything whichserves the hero is good, holy, and sacred, and everythingwhich is harmful to him wicked, impious, and reprobate,I do not see the glory of his triumph.

The principal defect in Milton’s poem is that his herosuccumbs, although he has to combat only the evil thingswithin himself, whilst everything which is good protectshim: the poem of Klopstock does not hold the reader’s interest,because the perils of his hero are illusory and as soonas he is represented as God, and when he himself knows hisdivinity, his downfall is absolutely impossible.

But it is too much to dwell upon points of criticism whichdo not belong to my subject. I have touched upon themonly slightly so that you may feel,Messieurs, notwithstandingthe pretensions of three rival peoples, that the epiccareer remains none the less wholly open to the Frenchnation. Some out-of-the-way paths have been traced hereand there; but no poet since Vergil, has left the imprintof his steps upon the true path. The moment is perhaps athand for gathering the palms that time has ripened. Mustthis century, great in prodigies, remain without an impassionedand enchanting voice to sing of them? Assuredlynot. Whoever may be the poet whose genius raises itselfto this noble task, I have wished from afar to lend him myfeeble support; for I have often enough repeated, thattalent alone will aspire to this in vain. Epopœia will onlybe the portion of the one who thoroughly understands theessence of poetry and who is able to apply to it a properform. I have penetrated this essence as far as has beenpossible for me, and I have revealed my ideas,Messieurs,as clearly as the insufficiency of my means has permitted.I trust that their development may have appeared satisfactoryand useful to you; I trust equally that the new formwhich I offer you merits your attention. I have appliedit before you, to ideas, to intentions and to very differentharmonies: it adapts itself here, for of itself it is nothing.Subject wholly to poetic essence, it receives therefrom all itslustre. If the ideas that it would render have grandeur andsublimity, it will easily become grand and sublime; butnothing would be poorer and more void, than that it shouldserve trivial thoughts or that it should conceal an absolutewant of ideas. Do not imagine,Messieurs, that the absenceof rhyme makes easy the French verse; it is preciselythis absence which makes the great difficulty: for there isnot then the means of writing without thinking. One can,with the aid of talent and practice, compose pleasing rhymedverse, without a great expenditure of ideas; the enormousquantity that is made today proves that it is not verydifficult. The elegance of form supplies the sterility ofsubstance. But this form becomes at last worn out; therhymes are not inexhaustible; one word attracts another,forces it to unite with it, making understood the soundsthat one has heard a thousand times, repeating the pictureswhich are everywhere; one repeats unceasingly the samethings: the enjambment which gives so much grace to theGreek and Latin verse and without which real epic impulsecannot exist, is opposed to the rhyme and destroys it. Youcan see,Messieurs, that it constitutes one of the principalqualities of eumolpique verse; nothing here constrains theenthusiasm of the poet.

After some impassioned verses that I have believednecessary for you to hear, I shall now pass on to verses,philosophical and devoid of passion, which form the subjectof this writing and to which I desire above all to call yourattention.

EXAMINATIONS OF THE GOLDEN VERSES:
EXPLANATIONS AND DEVELOPMENTS

1.The Golden Verses of the Pythagoreans

THE ancients had the habit of comparing with gold allthat they deemed without defects and pre-eminentlybeautiful: thus, by theGolden Age they understood, the ageof virtues and of happiness; and by theGolden Verses, theverses wherein was concealed the most puredoctrine.[232]They constantly attributed these Verses to Pythagoras,not that they believed that this philosopher had himselfcomposed them, but because they knew that his disciple,whose work they were, had revealed the exact doctrine ofhis master and had based them all upon maxims issued fromhis mouth.[233]This disciple, commendable through hislearning, and especially through his devotion to the preceptsof Pythagoras, was calledLysis.[234]After the deathof this philosopher and while his enemies, momentarilytriumphant, had raised at Crotona and at Metaponte thatterrible persecution which cost the lives of so great a numberof Pythagoreans, crushed beneath the(débris) of theirburned school, or constrained to die of hunger in the templeof the Muses,[235]Lysis, happily escaped from these disasters,retired into Greece, where, wishing to spread the sect ofPythagoras, to whose principles calumnies had been attached,he felt it necessary to set up a sort of formularywhich would contain the basis of morals and the principalrules of conduct given by this celebrated man. It is to thisgenerous movement that we owe the philosophical versesthat I have essayed to translate into French. These verses,calledgolden for the reason I have given, contain the sentimentsof Pythagoras and are all that remain to us, reallyauthentic, concerning one of the greatest men of antiquity.Hierocles, who has transmitted them to us with a long andmasterly Commentary, assures us that they do not contain,as one might believe, the sentiment of one in particular,but the doctrine of all the sacred corps of Pythagoreansand the voice of all theassemblies.[236]He adds that thereexisted a law which prescribed that each one, every morningupon rising and every evening upon retiring, should readthese verses as the oracles of the Pythagorean school. Onesees, in reality, by many passages from Cicero, Horace,Seneca, and other writers worthy of belief, that this lawwas still vigorously executed in theirtime.[237]We knowby the testimony of Galen in his treatise onThe Understandingand the Cure of the Maladies of the Soul, that he himselfread every day, morning and evening, the Verses of Pythagoras;and that, after having read them, he recited them byheart. However, I must not neglect to say that Lysis,who is the author of them, obtained so much celebrity inGreece that he was honoured as the master and friend ofEpaminondas.[238]If his name has not been attached tothis work, it is because at the epoch when he wrote it, theancient custom still existed of considering things and notindividuals: it was with the doctrine of Pythagoras thatone was concerned, and not with the talent of Lysis whichhad made it known. The disciples of a great man had noother name than his. All their works were attributed tohim. This is an observation sufficiently important to makeand which explains how Vyasa in India, Hermes in Egypt,Orpheus in Greece, have been the supposed authors of sucha multitude of books that the lives of many men wouldnot even suffice to read them.

In my translation, I have followed the Greek text, suchas is cited at the head of the Commentary of Hierocles, commentatedon by the son of Casaubon, and interpreted intoLatin by J. Curterius; London edition, 1673. This work,like all those which remain to us of the ancients, has beenthe subject of a great many critical and grammatical discussions:in the first place one must before everything else beassured of the material part. This part is today as authenticand as correct as it is possible to be, and although thereexists still, several different readings, they are of too littleimportance for me to dwell upon. It is not my affair andbesides,(chacun doit faire son métier). That of the grammarianhas ended where it ought to end. For how can manever expect to advance if he never is willing to try some newthing which is offered. I shall not therefore make anycriticizing remarks concerning the text, for I consider thistext sufficiently examined; neither will I make any notesconcerning the Commentaries, properly so-called, on theseseventy-one lines, for I think it is sufficient having those ofHierocles, of Vitus Amerbachius, Theodore Marcilius,Henri Brem, Michel Neander, Jean Straselius, GuilhaumeDiezius, Magnus-Daniel Omeis, André Dacier, etc. As Istated, I shall make examinations rather than commentaries,and I will give, regarding the inner meaning of the Verses,all the explanations that I believe useful for their completedevelopment.

Preparation

2.Render to the Immortal Gods the consecrated cult;
Guard then thy faith:

Pythagoras, of whom a modern savant, otherwise mostestimable, has rather throughtlessly reproached with beinga fanatical and superstitiousman,[239]begins his teaching,nevertheless, by laying down a principle of universal tolerance.He commands his disciples to follow the cult establishedby the laws, whatever this cult may be, and to adorethe gods of their country, what ever these gods may be;enjoining them only, to guard afterwards their faith—thatis, to remain inwardly faithful to his doctrine, and never todivulge the mysteries. Lysis, in writing these openinglines, adroitly conceals herein a double meaning. By thefirst he commended, as I have said, tolerance and reservefor the Pythagorean, and, following the example of theEgyptian priests, established two doctrines, the one apparentand vulgar, conformable to the law; the other mysteriousand secret, analogous to the faith; by the second meaning,he reassures the suspicious people of Greece, who, accordingto the slanders which were in circulation might have fearedthat the new sect would attack the sanctity of their gods.This tolerance on the one hand, and this reserve on the other,were no more than what they would be today. The ChristianReligion, exclusive and severe, has changed all our ideasin this respect: by admitting only one sole doctrine in oneunique church, this religion has necessarily confused tolerancewith indifference or coldness, and reserve with heresyor hypocrisy; but in the spirit of polytheism these samethings take on another colour. A Christian philosophercould not, without perjuring himself and committing afrightful impiety, bend the knee in China beforeKong-Tse,nor offer incense toChang-Ty nor toTien; he could neitherrender, in India, homage toKrishna, nor present himself atBenares as a worshipper ofVishnu; he could not even,although recognizing the same God as the Jews and Mussulmans,take part in their ceremonies, or what is still more,worship this God with the Arians, the Lutherans, or Calvinists,if he were a Catholic. This belongs to the veryessence of his cult. A Pythagorean philosopher did notrecognize in the least these formidable barriers, which hemin the nations, as it were, isolate them, and make them worsethan enemies. The gods of the people were in his eyes thesame gods, and his cosmopolitan dogmas condemned noone to eternal damnation. From one end of the earth tothe other he could cause incense to rise from the altar ofthe Divinity, under whatever name, under whatever form itmight be worshipped, and render to it the public cult establishedby the law. And this is the reason. Polytheismwas not in their opinion what it has become in ours, animpious and gross idolatry, a cult inspired by the infernaladversary to seduce men and to claim for itself the honourswhich are due only to the Divinity; it was a particularizationof the Universal Being, a personification of its attributesand its faculties. Before Moses, none of the theocraticlegislators had thought it well to present for the adorationof the people, the Supreme God, unique and uncreated inHis unfathomable universality. The Indian Brahmans, whocan be considered as the living types of all the sages and ofall the pontiffs of the world, never permit themselves, evenin this day when their great age has effaced the traces oftheir ancient science, to utter the name of God, principle ofAll.[240]They are content to meditate upon its essence insilence and to offer sacrifices to its sublimest emanations.The Chinese sages act the same with regard to the PrimalCause, that must be neither named nordefined [241];thefollowers of Zoroaster, who believe that the two universalprinciples of good and evil, Ormuzd and Ahriman, emanatefrom this ineffable Cause, are content to designate it underthe name of Eternity.[242]The Egyptians, so celebrated fortheir wisdom, the extent of their learning, and the multitudeof their divine symbols, honoured with silence theGod, principle and source of allthings [243];they never spokeof it, regarding it as inaccessible to all the researches ofman; and Orpheus, their disciple, first author of the brilliantmythology of the Greeks, Orpheus, who seemed to announcethe soul of the World as creator of this same God from whichit emanated, said plainly:

“I never see this Being surrounded with acloud.”[244]

Moses, as I have said, was the first who made a publicdogma of the unity of God, and who divulged what, up tothat time had been buried in the seclusion of the sanctuaries;for the principal tenets of the mysteries, those upon whichreposed all others, were the Unity of God and the homogeneityof Nature.[245]It is true that Moses, in making this disclosure,permitted no definition, no reflection, either upon theessence or upon the nature of this unique Being; this isvery remarkable. Before him, in all the known world, andafter him (save in Judea where more than one cloud stilldarkened the idea of divine Unity, until the establishmentof Christianity), the Divinity was considered by the theosophistsof all nations, under two relations: primarily asunique, secondarily as infinite; as unique, preserved underthe seal of silence to the contemplation and meditation ofthe sages; as infinite, delivered to the veneration and invocationof the people. Now the unity of God resides in Hisessence so that the vulgar can never in any way eitherconceive or understand. His infinity consists in His perfections,His faculties, His attributes, of which the vulgarcan, according to the measure of their understanding, graspsome feeble emanations, and draw nearer to Him by detachingthem from the universality—that is, by particularizingand personifying them. This is the particularization andthe personification which constitutes, as I have said, polytheism.The mass of gods which result from it, is as infiniteas the Divinity itself whence it had birth. Each nation,each people, each city adopts at its liking, those of the divinefaculties which are best suited to its character and its requirements.These faculties, represented by simulacra,become so many particular gods whose variety of namesaugments the number still further. Nothing can limit thisimmense theogony, since the Primal Cause whence it emanateshas not done so. The vulgar, lured by the objectswhich strike the senses, can become idolatrous, and he doesordinarily; he can even distinguish these objects of hisadoration, one from another, and believe that there reallyexist as many gods as statues; but the sage, the philosopher,the most ordinary man of letters does not fall into this error.He knows, with Plutarch, that different places and namesdo not make different gods; that the Greeks and Barbarians,the nations of the North and those of the South, adore thesame Divinity [246]he restores easily that infinity of attributesto the unity of the essence, and as the honoured remnantsof the ancient Sramanas, the priests of the Burmans,still do today, he worships God, whatever may be thealtar, the temple, and the place where he findshimself.[247]

This is what was done by the disciples of Pythagoras, accordingto the commandment of their master; they saw inthe gods of the nations, the attributes of the Ineffable Beingwhich were forbidden them to name; they augmented ostensiblyand without the slightest reluctance, the number ofthese attributes of which they recognized the Infinite Cause;they gave homage to the cult consecrated by the law andbrought them all back secretly to the Unity which was theobject of their faith.

3. …Revere the memory
Of the Illustrious Heroes, of Spirits demi-Gods.…

Pythagoras considered the Universe as an animated All,whose members were the divine Intelligences, each rankedaccording to its perfections, in its propersphere.[248]Heit was who first designated this All, by the Greek wordKosmos, in order to express the beauty, order, and regularitywhich reigned there [249];the Latins translated this word byMundus, from which has come the French word(monde).It is from Unity considered as principle of the world, thatthe name Universe which we give to it is derived. Pythagorasestablishes Unity as the principle of all things andsaid that from this Unity sprang an infiniteDuality.[250]The essence of this Unity, and the manner in which theDuality that emanated from it was finally brought backagain, were the most profound mysteries of his doctrine;the subject sacred to the faith of his disciples and thefundamental points which were forbidden them to reveal.Their explanation was never made in writing; those whoappeared worthy of learning them were content to be taughtthem by word of mouth.[251]When one was forced, by theconcatenation of ideas, to mention them in the books ofthe sect, symbols and ciphers were used, and the languageof Numbers employed; and these books, all obscure as theywere, were still concealed with the greatest care; by allmanner of means they were guarded against falling intoprofane hands.[252]I cannot enter into the discussion ofthe famous symbol of Pythagoras,one andtwo, withoutexceeding very much the limits that I have set down inthese examinations [253];let it suffice for me to say, that ashe designated God by 1, and Matter by 2, he expressed theUniverse by the number 12, which results in the union ofthe other two. This number is formed by the multiplicationof 3 by 4: that is to say, that this philosopher conceivedthe Universal world as composed of three particular worlds,which, being linked one with the other by means of the fourelementary modifications, were developed in twelve concentricspheres.[254]The ineffable Being which filled thesetwelve spheres without being understood by any one, wasGod. Pythagoras gave to It, truth for soul and light forbody.[255]The Intelligence which peopled the three worldswere, firstly, the immortal gods properly so-called; secondly,the glorified heroes; thirdly, the terrestial demons. Theimmortal gods, direct emanations of the uncreated Beingand manifestation of Its infinite faculties, were thus namedbecause they could not depart from the divine life—that is,they could never fall away from their Father into oblivion,wandering in the darkness of ignorance and of impiety;whereas the souls of men, which produced, according totheir degree of purity, glorified heroes and terrestrial demons,were able to depart sometimes from the divine lifeby voluntary drawing away from God; because the deathof the intellectual essence, according to Pythagoras andimitated in this by Plato, was only ignorance andimpiety.[256]It must be observed that in my translation I have notrendered the Greek word δαίμονες by the worddemons,but by that ofspirits, on account of the evil meaning thatChristianity has attached to it, as I explained in a precedingnote.[257]

This application of the number 12 to the Universe isnot at all an arbitrary invention of Pythagoras; it wascommon to the Chaldeans, to the Egyptians from whom hehad received it, and to the principal peoples of theearth [258]:it gave rise to the institution of the zodiac, whose divisioninto twelve asterisms has been found everywhere existentfrom time immemorial.[259]The distinction of the threeworlds and their development into a number, more or lessgreat, of concentric spheres inhabited by intelligences ofdifferent degrees of purity, were also known before Pythagoras,who in this only spread the doctrine which he hadreceived at Tyre, at Memphis, and atBabylon.[260]Thisdoctrine was that of the Indians. One finds still todayamong the Burmans, the division of all the created beingsestablished in three classes, each of which contains a certainnumber of species, from the material beings to the spiritual,from the sentient to theintelligible.[261]The Brahmans,who count fifteen spheres in the universe,[262]appear tounite the three primordial worlds with the twelve concentricspheres which result from their development. Zoroaster,who admitted the dogma of the three worlds, limited theinferior world to the vortex of the moon. There, accordingto him, the empire of evil and of matter comes to anend.[263]This idea thus conceived has been general; it was that ofall the ancient philosophers [264];and what is very remarkable,is that it has been adopted by the Christian theosophistswho certainly were not sufficiently learned to act throughimitation.[265]The followers of Basil, those of Valentine,and all the gnostics have imbibed from this source thesystem of emanations which has enjoyed such a great renownin the school of Alexandria. According to this system,the Absolute Unity, or God, was conceived as the spiritualSoul of the Universe, the Principle of existence, the Lightof lights; it was believed that this creative Unity, inaccessibleto the understanding even, produced by emanationa diffusion of light which, proceeding from the centre tothe circumference, losing insensibly its splendour and itspurity in proportion as it receded from its source, ended bybeing absorbed in the confines of darkness; so that its divergentrays, becoming less and less spiritual and, moreover,repulsed by the darkness, were condensed in comminglingwith it, and, taking a material shape, formed all the kinds ofbeings that the world contains. Thus was admitted, betweenthe Supreme Being and man, an incalculable chainof intermediary beings whose perfections decreased proportionablywith their alienation from the Creative Principle.All the philosophers and all the sectarians who admiredthis spiritual hierarchy considered, under the relationspeculiar to them, the different beings of which it was composed.The Persian magians who saw there genii, more orless perfect, gave them names relative to their perfections,and later made use of these same names to evoke them:from this came the Persian magic, which the Jews, havingreceived by tradition during their captivity in Babylon,calledKabbala.[266]This magic became mixed with astrologyamong the Chaldeans, who regarded the stars as animatedbeings belonging to the universal chain of divineemanations; in Egypt, it became linked with the mysteriesof Nature, and was enclosed in the sanctuaries, where itwas taught by the priests under the safeguard of symbolsand hieroglyphics. Pythagoras, in conceiving this spiritualhierarchy as a geometrical progression, considered the beingswhich compose it under harmonious relations, and based,by analogy, the laws of the universe upon those of music.He called the movement of the celestial spheres, harmony,and made use of numbers to express the faculties of differentbeings, their relations and their influences. Hierocles mentionsa sacred book attributed to this philosopher, in whichhe called the divinity, the Number ofnumbers.[267]Plato,who, some centuries later, regarded these same beings asideas and types, sought to penetrate their nature and tosubjugate them by dialectics and the force of thought.Synesius, who united the doctrine of Pythagoras to that ofPlato, sometimes called God, the Number of numbers, andsometimes the Idea of ideas.[268]The gnostics gave to theintermediary beings the name ofEons.[269]This name,which signifies, in Egyptian, a principle of the will, beingdeveloped by an inherent, plastic faculty, is applied inGreek to a term of infiniteduration.[270]One finds in HermesTrismegistus the origin of this change of meaning.This ancient sage remarks that the two faculties, the twovirtues of God, are the understanding and the soul, and thatthe two virtues of the Eon are perpetuity and immortality.The essence of God, he said again, is the good and the beautiful,beatitude and wisdom; the essence of Eon, is beingalways the same.[271]But, not content with assimilatingbeings of the celestial hierarchy to ideas, to numbers, or tothe plastic principle of the will, there were philosopherswho preferred to designate them by the name of Words.Plutarch said on one occasion that words, ideas, and divineemanations reside in heaven and in thestars.[272]Philogives in more than one instance the name of word to angels;and Clement of Alexandria relates that the Valentiniansoften called their Eons thus.[273]According to Beausobre,the philosophers and theologians, seeking for terms in whichto express incorporal substances, designated them by someone of their attributes or by some one of their operations,naming themSpirits, on account of the subtlety of theirsubstance;Intelligences, on account of the thought;Words,on account of the reason;Angels, on account of their services;Eons, on account of their manner of subsisting, alwaysequal, without change and withoutalteration.[274]Pythagorascalled them Gods, Heroes, Demons,[275]relative to theirrespective elevation and the harmonious position of thethree worlds which they inhabit. This cosmogonic ternaryjoined with Creative Unity, constitutes the famous Quaternary,or Sacred Tetrad, the subject of which will be takenup further on.

Purification

4.Be a good son, just brother, spouse tender, and good father.

The aim of the doctrine of Pythagoras was to enlightenmen, to purify them of their vices, to deliver them fromtheir errors, and to restore them to virtue and to truth; andafter having caused them to pass through all the degreesof the understanding and intelligence, to render them likeunto the immortal gods.

This philosopher had for this purpose divided his doctrineinto two parts: the purgative part and the unitivepart. Through the first, man became purified of his uncleanness,emerged from the darkness of ignorance, andattained to virtue: through the second, he used his acquiredvirtue to become united to the Divinity through whosemeans he arrived at perfection. These two parts are foundquite distinct in the Golden Verses. Hierocles, who hasclearly grasped them, speaks of it in the beginning of hisCommentaries and designates them by two words whichcontain, he said, all the doctrine of Pythagoras,PurificationandPerfection.[276]The Magians and the Chaldeans, allof whose principles Pythagoras had adopted, were agreedon this point, and in order to express their idea, made useof a parabolical phrase very celebrated among them. “Weconsume,” they said, “the refuse of matter by the fire ofdivine love.”[277]An anonymous author who has written anhistory of Pythagoras, preserved by Photius, said that thedisciples of this great man taught that one perfects oneselfin three ways: in communing with the gods, in doing goodin imitation of the gods, and in departing from this life torejoin the gods.[278]The first of these ways is contained inthe first three lines of the Golden Verses which concern thecult rendered, according to the law and according to thefaith, to the Gods, to the glorified Heroes, and to the Spirits.The second, that is, the Purification, begins at the fourthline which makes the subject of this Examination. Thethird, that is, the union with the Divinity, or Perfection,begins at the fortieth line of my translation:

Let not sleep e’er close thy tired eyes.

Thus the division that I have believed ought to be madeof this short poem is not at all arbitrary, as one sees thejudicious Bayle had remarked it beforeme.[279]

It is worthy of observation, that Pythagoras begins thepurgative part of his doctrine by commending the observanceof natural duties, and that he places in the rank ofprimary virtues, filial piety, paternal and conjugal love.Thus this admirable philosopher made it his first care tostrengthen the ties of blood and make them cherished andsacred; he exhorts respect to children, tenderness to parents,and union to all the members of the family; he follows thusthe profound sentiment which Nature inspires in all sentientbeings, very different in this from certain legislators,blinded by false politics, who, in order to conduct men toI know not what power and what imaginary welfare, havewished, on the contrary, to break those ties, annihilate thoserelationships of father, son, and brother, to concentrate,they said, upon a being of reason called Country the affectionthat the soul divides among those objects of itsfirst love.[280]If the legislators had cared to reflect amoment, they would have seen that there existed no countryfor the one who had no father, and that the respect and lovethat a man in his virile age feels for the place of his birth,holds its principle and receives its force from those samesentiments that he felt in his infancy for his mother. Everyeffect proclaims a cause; every edifice rests upon a foundation:the real cause of love of country is maternal love; thesole foundations of the social edifice are paternal power andfilial respect. From this sole power issues that of the prince,who, in every well-organized state, being considered asfather of the people, has right to the obedience and respectof his children.

I am going to make here a singular comparison which Ibeg the reader to observe. Moses, instructed in the sameschool as Pythagoras, after having announced the Unity ofGod in the famous Decalogue which contains the summaryof his law, and having commanded its adoration to hispeople, announces for the first virtue, filialpiety [281]; “Honour,”he said, “thy father and thy mother, that thy daysmay be multiplied in this country of Adam, that Jhôah,thy Gods, has given thee.”[282]

The theocratic legislator of the Hebrews in making thiscommandment places recompense by the side of precept:he declares formally that the exercise of filial piety drawswith it a long existence. Now, it must be remarked thatMoses being content with enclosing in his doctrine the solepurgative part, doubtless judging his people not in a conditionto support the unitive part, spoke to them nowhereof the immortality which is its consequence; contentinghimself with promising the joys of temporal blessings,among which he carefully placed in the first rank a longlife. Experience has proved, relative to people in general,that Moses spoke with a profound understanding of thecauses which prolong the duration of empires. Filial pietyis the national virtue of the Chinese, the sacred foundationupon which reposes the social edifice of the greatest and themost ancient people of theworld.[283]This virtue has beento China, for more than four thousand years, what love ofcountry was to Sparta or to Rome. Sparta and Rome havefallen notwithstanding the sort of fanaticism with whichtheir children were animated, and the Chinese Empirewhich existed two thousand years before their foundation,still exists two thousand years after their downfall. IfChina has been able to preserve herself in the midst of theflux and reflux of a thousand revolutions, to save herselffrom her own wrecks, to triumph over her own defects, andto subjugate even her conquerors, she owes it to this virtuewhich, raising itself from the humblest citizen to the Sonof heaven seated upon the imperial throne, animates allthe hearts with a sacred fire, of which Nature herself providesthe nourishment and eternalizes the duration. TheEmperor is the father of the state; two hundred millionmen, who regard themselves as his children, compose hisimmense family; what human effort could overthrow thiscolossus?[284]

5.Choose for thy friend, the friend of virtue;
Yield to his gentle counsels, profit by his life,
And for a trifling grievance never leave him;

After the duties which have their source directly in Nature,Pythagoras commends to his disciples those whichproceed from the social state; friendship follows immediatelyfilial piety, paternal and fraternal love; but this philosophermakes a distinction full of meaning: he ordains to honourone’s relations; he says to choose one’s friends. This is why:it is Nature that presides at our birth, that gives us a father,a mother, brothers, sisters, relations of kinship, a positionupon the earth, and a place in society; all this depends notupon us: all this, according to the vulgar, is the work ofhazard; but according to the Pythagorean philosopher theseare the consequences of an anterior order, severe and irresistible,called Fortune or Necessity. Pythagoras opposedto this restrained nature, a free Nature, which, acting uponforced things as upon brute matter, modifies them anddraws as it wills, good or bad results. This second naturewas called Power or Will: it is this which rules the life ofman, and which directs his conduct according to the elementsfurnished him by the first. Necessity and Powerare, according to Pythagoras, the two opposed motives ofthe sublunary world where man is relegated. These twomotives draw their force from a superior cause that theancients namedNemesis, the fundamentaldecree,[285]thatwe nameProvidence. Thus then, Pythagoras recognized,relative to man, things constrained and things free, accordingas they depend upon Necessity or the Will: he ranked filialpiety in the first and friendship in the second. Man notbeing free to give himself parents of his choice, must honourthem such as they are, and fulfil in regard to them all theduties of nature, whatever wrong they might do towardshim; but as nothing constrains him from giving his friendship,he need give it only to the one who shows himselfworthy of it by his attachment to virtue.

Let us observe an important point. In China wherefilial piety is regarded as the root of all virtues and the firstsource of instruction,[286]the exercise of the duties whichit imposes admits of no exception. As the legislator teachesthere that the greatest crime is to lack in filial piety, heinfers that he who has been a good son will be a good fatherand that thus nothing will break the socialtie [287];for hefirst establishes this virtue which embraces all, from theemperor to the lowliest of his subjects, and that it is for thepeoples what the regularity of the celestial movements isfor the ethereal space: but in Italy and in Greece wherePythagoras established his dogmas, it would have beendangerous for him to give the same extension, since thisvirtue not being that of the State, would necessarily involveabuses in the paternal authority, already excessive amongcertain peoples. That is the reason the disciples of thisphilosopher, in distinguishing between forced and voluntaryactions, judged wisely that it would be necessary to applyhere the distinction: therefore they urged to honour one’sfather and mother and to obey them in all that concernsthe body and mundane things, but without abandoningone’s soul to them [288];for the divine law declares free whathas not been received from them and delivers it fromtheir power. Pythagoras furthermore had favoured thisopinion by saying, that after having chosen a friend fromamong the men most commended for their virtues, it wasnecessary to learn by his actions and to be guided by hisdiscourse: which testified to the lofty idea that he had offriendship. “Friends,” he said, “are like companions oftravel who reciprocally assist each other to persevere inthe path of the noblestlife.[289]” It is to him that we owethat beautiful expression, so often quoted, so little felt bythe generality of men, and which a victorious king, Alexanderthe Great, felt so keenly and expressed so felicitouslyby the following: “My friend is anothermyself.”[290]It isalso from him that Aristotle had borrowed that beautifuldefinition: “The real friend is one soul that lives in twobodies.”[291]The founder of the Lyceum, in giving such adefinition of friendship, spoke rather by theory than bypractice, he who reasoning one day upon friendship, criedingenuously: “Oh, my friends! there are nofriends.”[292]

Yet Pythagoras did not conceive friendship as a simpleindividual affection, but as an universal benevolence whichshould be extended to all men in general, and to all goodpeople.[293]At that time he gave to this virtue the name ofphilanthropy. It is the virtue which, under the name ofcharity, serves as foundation for the Christian religion.Jesus offers it to his disciples immediately after divine love,and as equal to piety.[294]Zoroaster places it aftersincerity [295];he wished that man might be pure in thought,speech, and action; that he might speak the truth, and thathe might do good to all men. Kong-Tse as well as Pythagorascommended it after filialpiety.[296]“All morals,” hesaid, “can be reduced to the observation of three fundamentallaws, of the relations between sovereigns andsubjects, between parents and children, between husbandsand wives; and to the strict practice of the five capitalvirtues, of which the first is humanity, that is to say, thatuniversal charity, that expansion of the soul which bindsman to man without distinction.”

6.If thou canst at least: for a most rigid law
Binds Power to Necessity.

Here is the proof of what I said just now, that Pythagorasrecognized two motives of human actions, the first, issuingfrom a constrained nature, called Necessity; the secondemanating from a free nature, called Power, and both dependentupon an implied primordial law. This doctrinewas that of the ancient Egyptians, among whom Pythagorashad imbibed it. “Man is mortal with reference to the body,”they said, “but he is immortal with reference to the soulwhich constitutes essential man. As immortal he hasauthority over all things; but relative to the material andmortal part of himself, he is subject todestiny.”[297]

One can see by these few words that the ancient sagesdid not give to Destiny the universal influence that certainphilosophers and particularly the Stoics gave to it later on;but they considered it only as exercising its empire overmatter. It is necessary to believe that since the followersof the Porch had defined it as a chain of causes, by virtueof which the past has taken place, the present exists, andthe future is to be realized [298];or still better, as the rule ofthe law by which the Universe isgoverned [299];one mustbelieve, I say, that these philosophers confounded Destinywith Providence, and did not distinguish the effect fromits cause, since these definitions conform only with thefundamental law of which destiny is but an emanation.This confusion of words had to produce and in fact didproduce, among the Stoics, an inversion of ideas which wasthe most unfortunate result [300];for, as they established,according to their system, a chain of good and evil thatnothing could either alter or break, one easily inferred thatthe Universe being subject to the attraction of a blind fatality,all actions are here necessarily determined in advance,forced, and thereafter indifferent in themselves; so thatgood and evil, virtue and vice, are vain words, things whoseexistence is purely ideal and relative.

The Stoics would have evaded these calamitous resultsif, like Pythagoras, they had admitted the two motivesof which I have spoken, Necessity and Power; and if, farfrom instituting Necessity alone as absolute master of theUniverse, under the name of Destiny or Fatality, they hadseen it balanced by the Power of the Will, and subject to theProvidential Cause whence all emanates. The disciplesof Plato would also have evaded many errors, if they hadclearly understood this concatenation of the two opposedprinciples, from which results universal equilibrium; butfollowing certain false interpretations of the doctrine oftheir master regarding the soul of matter, they had imaginedthat this soul was no other than Necessity by which it isruled [301];so that, according to them, this soul being inherentin matter, and bad in itself, gave to Evil a necessaryexistence: a dogma quite formidable, since it makes theworld to be considered as the theatre of a struggle withoutbeginning or end, between Providence, principle of Good, andthe soul of matter, principle of Evil. The greatest mistakeof the Platonists, exactly contrary to that of the Stoics,was in having confused the free power of the Will with thedivine Providence, in having instituted it for the principleof good and thus being put in position of maintaining thatthere are two souls in the world, a beneficent one, God, anda malefic one, Matter. This system, approved of by manycelebrated men of antiquity and which Beausobre assureswas the most widely received,[302]offers, as I have observed,the very great disadvantage of giving to Evil a necessaryexistence, that is to say, an independent and eternal existence.Now, Bayle has very well proved, by attacking thissystem through that of Manes, that two opposed Principlescannot exist equally eternal and independent of one another,because the clearest ideas of order teach us that a Beingwhich exists by itself, which is necessary, which is eternal,must be unique, infinite, all-powerful, and endowed with allmanner of perfections.[303]

But it is not at all certain that Plato may have had theidea that his disciples have attributed to him, since farfrom considering matter as an independent and necessarybeing, animated by a soul essentially bad, he seems even todoubt its existence, going so far as to regard it as purenothingness, and calls the bodies which are formed of it,equivocal beings holding the medium between what is alwaysexisting and what does not exist atall [304];he affirmssometimes that matter has been created and sometimesthat it has not been [305];and thus falls into contradictionsof which his enemies have taken advantage. Plutarch,who has clearly seen it, excuses them by saying that thisgreat philosopher has fallen into these contradictions designedly,in order to conceal some mystery; a mind constructedlike his not being made to affirm two oppositesin the same sense.[306]The mystery that Plato wished toconceal, as he makes it sufficientlyunderstood,[307]was theorigin of Evil. He himself declares that he has neverrevealed and that he never will reveal, in writing, his realsentiments in this respect. Thus what Chalcidius and afterhim André Dacier have given concerning the doctrine ofPlato are only conjectures or very remote inferences drawnfrom certain of his dogmas. One has often made use ofthis means, with regard to celebrated men whose writingsone comments upon and particularly when one has certainreasons for presenting one’s ideas(sous un côté) which outlinesor which favours an opinion either favourable or unfavourable.It is this which happened more to Manes than toany other; his doctrine concerning the two Principles hasbeen greatly calumniated, and without knowing just whathe meant by them, one hastened to condemn him withoutinvestigating what he had said; adopting as axioms thathe had laid down, inferences the most bizarre and mostridiculous that his enemies had drawn from certain equivocalphrases.[308]What persuades me to make this observation,is because it has been proved that Manes had indeed admittedtwo opposed Principles of Good and Evil, eternalindependents, and holding of themselves their proper andabsolute existence, since it is easy to see that Zoroaster,whose doctrine he had principally imitated, had not admittedthem as such, but as equally issued from a superior Cause,concerning the essence of which he wassilent.[309]I amvery much inclined to believe that the Christian doctorswho have transmitted to us the ideas of this mighty heresiarch,blinded by their hatred or by their ignorance, havetravestied them as I find that the Platonist philosophers,bewildered by their own opinions, have entirely disfiguredthose of the illustrious founder of the Academy. The errorsof both have been, taking for absolute beings, what Zoroasterand Pythagoras, Plato or Manes, had put down as emanations,results, forces, or even the simple abstractions of theunderstanding. Thus Ormuzd and Ahriman, Power andNecessity, the Same and the Other, Light and Darkness,are, in reality, only the same things diversely expressed,diversely sensed, but always drawn from the same originand subject to the same fundamental Cause of the Universe.

It is not true therefore, as Chalcidius has stated, thatPythagoras may have demonstrated that evil existsnecessarily,[310]because matter is evil in itself. Pythagorasnever said that matter might be an absolute being whoseessence might be composed of evil. Hierocles, who hadstudied the doctrine of this great man and that of Plato,has denied that either the one or the other had ever declaredmatter as a being existing by itself. He has proved, on thecontrary, that Plato taught, following the steps of Pythagoras,that the World was produced from Nothing, and thathis followers were mistaken when they thought that headmitted an uncreatedmatter.[311]Power and Necessity(mentioned in the lines at the head of this Examination)are not, as has been believed, the absolute source of goodand evil. Necessity is not more evil in itself than Poweris not good; it is from the usage that man is called to makeof them, and from their employment which is indicated bywisdom or ignorance, virtue or vice, that results Good orEvil. This has been felt by Homer who has expressed itin an admirable allegory, by representing the god of godshimself, Jupiter, opening indifferently the sources of goodand evil upon the universe.

Beside Jove’s threshold stand two casks of gifts for man.

One cask contains the evil, one the good,...[312]

Those who have rejected this thought of Homer havenot reflected enough upon the prerogatives of poetry, whichare to particularize what is universal and to represent asdone what is to be done. Good and Evil do not emanatefrom Jupiter in action, but in potentiality, that is to say,that the same thing represented by Jupiter or the UniversalPrinciple of the Will and the Intelligence, becomes goodor evil, according as it is determined by the particular operationof each individual principle of the Will and theIntelligence.[313]Now, man is to the Being called Jupiter byHomer, as the particular is to theUniversal.[314]

7.Still it is given thee to fight and overcome
Thy foolish passions: learn thou to subdue them.

It seems that Lysis, foreseeing the wrong inductionsthat would be drawn from what he had said, and as if hehad a presentiment that one would not fail to generalize theinfluence of Necessity upon the actions of men, may havewished beforehand to oppose himself to the destructivedogma of fatality, by establishing the empire of the Willover the passions. This is in the doctrine of Pythagorasthe real foundation of the liberty of man: for, according tothis philosopher, no one is free, only he who knows how tomaster himself,[315]and the yoke of the passions is muchheavier and more difficult to throw off than that of the mostcruel tyrants. Pythagoras, however, did not, accordingto Hierocles, prescribe destroying the passions, as the Stoicstaught in late times; but only to watch over them and repressexcess in them, because all excess isvicious.[316]He regardedthe passions as useful to man, and although producedin principle by Necessity, and given by an irresistible destiny,as nevertheless submissive in their use to the free powerof the Will. Plato had well realized this truth and hadforcibly indicated it in many passages of his works: onefinds it chiefly in the second dialogue of Hippias, wherethis philosopher shows, evidently without seeming to havethe design, that man good or bad, virtuous or criminal,truthful or false, is only such by the power of his will, andthat the passion which carries him to virtue or to vice, totruth or falsehood, is nothing in itself; so that no man isbad, only by the faculty which he has of being good; norgood, only by the faculty which he has of being bad.

But has man the faculty of being good or bad at his pleasure,and is he not irresistibly drawn toward vice or virtue?This is a question which has tried all the great thinkers ofthe earth, and which according to circumstances has causedstorms of more or less violence. It is necessary, however,to give close attention to one thing, which is, that before theestablishment of Christianity and the admission of originalsin as fundamental dogma of religion, no founder of sect,no celebrated philosopher had positively denied the freewill, nor had taught ostensibly that man may be necessarilydetermined to Evil or to Good and predestined from alltime to vice or virtue, to wickedness or eternal happiness.It is indeed true that this cruel fatality seemed often tofollow from their principles as an inevitable consequence,and that their adversaries reproached them with it; butnearly all rejected it as an insult, or a false interpretationof their system. The first who gave place to this accusation,in ancient times, was a certain Moschus, a Phœnicianphilosopher, who, according to Strabo, lived before the epochin which the war of Troy is said to have taken place, thatis to say, about twelve or thirteen centuries before ourera.[317]This philosopher detaching himself from the theosophicaldoctrine, the only one known at that time, and havingsought the reason of things in the things themselves, canbe considered as the real founder of Natural Philosophy:he was the first who made abstraction from the Divinity,and from the intelligence, and assumed that the Universeexisting by itself was composed of indivisible particles,which, endowed with figures and diverse movements, producedby their fortuitous combinations an infinite seriesof beings, generating, destroying, and renewing themselvesunceasingly. These particles, which the Greeks namedatoms,[318]on account of their indivisibility, constituted theparticular system which still bears this name. Leucippus,Democritus, and Epicurus adopted it, adding to it their ownideas; and Lucretius having naturalized it among the Romans,favoured its passage down to these modern times,when the greater part of our philosophers have done nothingbut renovate it under otherforms.[319]Assuredly there isno system whence the fatal necessity of all things issues moreinevitably than from that of atoms; also it is certain thatDemocritus was accused of admitting a compulsorydestiny,[320]although, like Leibnitz, he admitted to each atom an animatedand sentient nature.[321]It is not known if he repliedto this accusation; but there are certain proofs that Epicurus,who had less right than he to reject it, since he regardedatoms as absolutelyinanimate,[322]rejected it nevertheless,and not wishing to admit a dogma subversive of all morals,he declared himself against it, and taught the liberty ofman.[323]

A singular thing is, that this fatality which appears attachedto the system of atoms, whence the materialist promoters,true to their principle, banished the influence ofDivine Providence,[324]followed still more naturally fromthe opposed system, wherein the spiritualist philosophersadmitted this Providence to the full extent of its power.According to this last system, a sole and same spiritualsubstance filled the Universe, and by its diverse modificationsproduced there all the phenomena by which the sensesare affected. Parmenides, Melissus, and Zeno of Elea, whoadopted it, sustained it with great success: they assertedthat matter was only pure illusion, that there is nothing inthings, that bodies and all their variations are only pureappearances, and that therefore nothing really exists outsideof spirit.[325]Zeno of Elea particularly, who denied theexistence of movement, brought against this existence someobjections very difficult toremove.[326]The Stoic philosophersbecame more or less strongly attached to this opinion.Chrysippus, one of the firmest pillars of the Porch,taught that God is the soul of the world, and the world,the universal extension of that soul. He said that byJupiter, should be understood, the eternal law, the fatalnecessity, the immutable truth of all futurethings.[327]Now, it is evident that if, in accordance with the energeticexpression of Seneca, this unique principle of the Universehas ordained once to obey always its owncommand,[328]the Stoics were not able to escape from the reproach thatwas directed toward them, of admitting the most absolutefatality, since the soul of man being, according to them, onlya portion of the Divinity, its actions could have no othercause than God Himself who had willedthem.[329]NeverthelessChrysippus rejected the reproach in the same manneras did Epicurus; he always sustained the liberty of man,notwithstanding the irresistible force that he admitted inthe unique Cause [330];and what seemed a manifest contradiction,he taught that the soul sins only by the impulse ofits own will, and therefore that the blame of its errors shouldnot be put upon destiny.[331]

But it suffices to reflect a moment upon the nature ofthe principles set down by Epicurus, by Chrysippus, andby all those who have preceded them or followed them intheir divergent opinions, to see that the inferences drawnby their adversaries were just, and that they could notrefute them without contradictingthemselves.[332]Everytime that one has claimed to found the Universe upon theexistence of a sole material or spiritual nature, and to makeproceed from this sole nature the explanation of all phenomena,one has become exposed and always will be, to insurmountabledifficulties. It is always in asking what theorigin of Good and Evil is, that all the systems of this sorthave been irresistibly overthrown, from Moschus, Leucippus,and Epicurus, down to Spinoza and Leibnitz; fromParmenides, Zeno of Elea, and Chrysippus, down to Berkeleyand Kant. For, let there be no misunderstanding, thesolution of the problem concerning free will depends uponpreliminary knowledge of the origin of evil, so that onecannot reply plainly to this question: Whence comes Evil?Neither can one reply to this one: Is man free? And thatone be not still further deceived here, the knowledge of theorigin of evil, if it has been acquired, has never been openlydivulged: it has been profoundly buried with that of theUnity of God in the ancient mysteries and has neveremerged except enveloped in a triple veil. The initiates imposedupon themselves a rigid silence concerning what theycalled thesufferings of God [333]:his death, his descent intothe infernal regions, and hisresurrection.[334]They knewthat the serpent was, in general, the symbol of evil, and thatit was under this form that the Python had fought withand been slain by Apollo.[335]The theosophists have notmade a public dogma of the Unity of God, precisely onaccount of the explanation that it would be necessary togive to the origin of good and evil; for without this explanation,the dogma in itself would have been incomprehensible.Moses realized it perfectly, and in the plan which he hadconceived of striking the people whose legislator he was,with a character as extraordinary as indelible, by foundinghis cult upon the publicity of a dogma hidden, until thattime in the depths of the sanctuaries and reserved for theinitiates alone, he did not hesitate to divulge what he knewpertaining to the creation of the world and the origin of evil.It is true that the manner in which he gave it, under a simplicityand apparent clarity, concealed a profundity andobscurity almost unfathomable; but the form which he gaveto this formidable mystery sufficed to support, in the opinionof the vulgar, the Unity of God and this was all that hewished to do.

Now it is the essence of theosophy to be dogmatic, andthat of natural philosophy to be skeptical; the theosophistspeaks by faith, the physicist speaks by reason; the doctrineof the one excludes the discussion that the system of theother admits and even necessitates. Up to that time, theosophydominating upon the earth had taught the influenceof the will, and the tradition which was preserved in itamong all the nations of the earth during an incalculablesuccession of centuries gave it the force of demonstration.Among the Indians, Krishna; among the Persians, Zoroaster;in China, Kong-Tse; in Egypt, Thoth; among the Greeks,Orpheus; even Odin, among the Scandinavians; everywherethe lawgivers of the people had linked the liberty of man withthe consoling dogma of Divinerovidence.[336]The peoplesaccustomed to worship in polytheism the Divine Infinityand not its Unity, did not find it strange to be guided,protected, and watched over on the one side, whereas theyremained, on the other, free in their movements; and theydid not trouble themselves to find the source of good andevil since they saw it in the objects of their cult, in thesesame gods, the greater part of whom being neither essentiallygood nor essentially bad were reputed to inspire inthem the virtues or the vices which, gathered freely by them,rendered them worthy of recompense orchastisement.[337]But when Natural Philosophy appeared, the face of thingswas changed. The natural philosophers, substituting the observationof nature and experience for mental contemplationand the inspiration of theosophists, thought that theycould make sentient what was intelligible, and promised toprove by fact and reasoning whatever up to that time hadhad only proofs of sentiment and analogy. They broughtto light the great mystery of Universal Unity, and transformingthis Intellectual Unity into corporal substanceplaced it in water,[338]in infinite space,[339]in the air,[340]in thefire,[341]whence they draw in turn the essential and formalexistence of all things. The one, attached to the school ofIonia, established as fundamental maxim, that there is butone principle of all; and the other, attached to that of Elea,started from this axiom that nothing is made fromnothing.[342]The former sought thehow, and the latter thewhy of things;and all were united in saying that there is no effect withoutcause. Their different systems, based upon the principlesof reasoning which seemed incontestable, and supported bya series of imposing conclusions, had, at first, a prodigioussuccess; but this(éclat) paled considerably when soon the disciplesof Pythagoras, and a little later those of Socrates andPlato, having received from their masters the theosophicaltradition, stopped these sophistical physicists in the midstof their triumphs, and, asking them the cause of physicaland of moral evil, proved to them that they knew nothingof it; and that, in whatever fashion they might deduce it bytheir system, they could not avoid establishing an absolutefatality, destructive to the liberty of man, which by deprivingit of morality of actions, by confounding vice and virtue,ignorance and wisdom, made of the Universe no more thana frightful chaos. In vain these had thrust back the reproachand claimed that the inference was false; their adversariespursuing them on their own ground cried out tothem: If the principle that you admit is good, whence comesit that men are wicked andmiserable?[343]If this uniqueprinciple is bad, whence emerge goodness andvirtue?[344]If nature is the expression of this sole principle, how is itnot constant and why does its government sow goodnessand evil?[345]The materialists had recourse vainly to acertain deviation in atoms,[346]and the spiritualists, to acertain adjuvant cause quite similar to efficaciousgrace [347];the theosophists would never have renounced them if theyhad not enclosed them in a syllogistic circle, by makingthem admit, sometimes that the unique and all-powerfulPrinciple cannot think ofeverything,[348]sometimes that viceis useful and that without it there would be novirtue [349];paradoxes of which they had no trouble demonstrating theabsurdity and the revoltinginferences.[350]

Take a survey of all the nations of the world, peruse allthe books that you please, and you will find the liberty ofman, the free will of his actions, the influence of his will overhis passions, only in the theosophical tradition. Whereveryou see physical or metaphysical systems, doctrines ofwhatever kind they may be, founded upon a sole principleof the material or spiritual Universe, you can concludeboldly that absolute fatality results from it and that theirauthors find themselves in need of making two things one: orof explaining the origin of good and evil, which is impossible;or of establishing the free willa priori, which is a manifestcontradiction of their reasonings. If you care to penetrateinto metaphysical depths, examine this decisive point uponthis matter. Moses founded his cult upon the Unity of Godand he explained the origin of evil; but he found himselfforced by the very nature of this formidable mystery toenvelop his explanation with such a veil, that it remainedimpenetrable for all those who had not received the traditionalrevelation; so that the liberty of man existed in hiscult only by favour of theosophical tradition, and that itbecame weaker and disappeared entirely from it with thissame tradition, the two opposed sects of the Pharisees andSadducees which divided the cult provethis.[351]Theformer, attached to the tradition and allegorizing the textof theSepher,[352]admitted the free will [353];the others, onthe contrary, rejecting it and following the literal meaning,established an irresistible destiny to which all was subjected.The most orthodox Hebrews, and those even whopassed as seers or prophets of the nation, had no difficultyin attributing to God the cause ofEvil.[354]They were obviouslyauthorized by the history of the downfall of thefirst man, and by the dogma of original sin, which they tookaccording to the meaning attached to it by the vulgar. Italso happened, after the establishment of Christianity andof Islamism, that this dogma, received by both cults in allits extent and in all its literal obscurity, has necessarilydrawn with it predestination, which is, in other words, onlythe fatality of the ancients. Mohammed, more enthusiastthan learned, and stronger in imagination than in reasoning,has not hesitated a moment, admitting it as an inevitableresult of the Unity of God, which he announced afterMoses.[355]It is true that a few Christian doctors, when they havebeen capable of perceiving the inferences in it have deniedthis predestination, and have wished, either by allegorizingthe dogma of original sin, as Origen, or rejecting it wholly,as Pelagius, to establish the free will and the power of thewill; but it is easy to see, in reading the history of the church,that the most rigid Christians, such as Saint Augustineand the ecclesiastical authority itself, have always upheldpredestination as proceeding necessarily from the divinePrescience and from the All-Powerful, without which thereis no Unity. The length of this examination forces me tosuspend the proofs that I was going to give regarding thislast assertion; but further on I will return to it.

8.Be sober, diligent, and chaste; avoid all wrath.
In public or in secret ne’er permit thou
Any evil; and above all else respect thyself.

Pythagoras considered man under three principal modifications,like the Universe; and this is why he gave to manthe name of the microcosm or the smallworld.[356]Nothingwas more common among the ancient nations than to comparethe Universe to a grand man, and man, to a smallUniverse.[357]The Universe, considered as a grand andanimated All, composed of intelligence, soul and body, wascalled Pan or Phanes.[358][359]Man, or microcosm, was composedin the same way but in an inverse manner, ofbody, soul, and intelligence; and each of these three partswas, in its turn, considered under three modifications, sothat the ternary ruling in the whole ruled equally in theleast of its subdivisions. Each ternary, from that whichembraced Immensity, to that which constituted the weakestindividual was, according to Pythagoras, included in anabsolute or relative Unity, and formed thus, as I have alreadysaid, the Quaternary or Sacred Tetrad of the Pythagoreans.This Quaternary was universal or particular.Pythagoras was not, however, the inventor of this doctrine:it was spread from China to the depths ofScandinavia.[360]One finds it likewise expressed in the oracles ofZoroaster.[361]

In the Universe a Ternary shines forth,

And the Monad is its principle.

Thus, according to this doctrine, Man, considered as arelative unity contained in the absolute Unity of the GrandAll, presents himself as the universal ternary, under threeprincipal modifications, of body, soul, and spirit or intelligence.The soul, considered as the seat of the passions, ispresented in its turn, under the three faculties of the rational,irascible or appetent soul. Now, in the opinion of Pythagoras,the vice of the appetent faculty of the soul is intemperanceor avarice; that of the irascible faculty iscowardice; and that of the rational faculty is folly. The vicewhich reaches these three faculties is injustice. In orderto avoid these vices, the philosopher commends four principalvirtues to his disciples: temperance for the appetentfaculty, courage for the irascible faculty, prudence for therational faculty, and for these three faculties together,justice, which he regards as the most perfect virtue of thesoul.[362]I say the soul, because the body and the intelligence,being equally developed by means of three facultiesinstinctive or spiritual, as well as the soul, were susceptibleof the vices and the virtues which were peculiar to them.

9.Speak not nor act before thou hast reflected;
Be just.

By the preceding lines, Lysis, speaking in the nameof Pythagoras, had commended temperance and diligence;he had prescribed particularly watching over the irasciblefaculty, and moderating its excesses; by these, he indicatesthe peculiar character of prudence which is reflection andhe imposes the obligation of being just, by binding, as itwere, the most energetic idea of justice with that of death,as may be seen in the subsequent lines:

10. …Remember that a power invincible
Ordains to die; …

That is to say, remember thou that the fatal necessityto which thou art subjected in reference to the material andmortal part of thyself, according to the sentence of theancient sages,[363]will strike thee particularly in the objectsof thy cupidity, of thy intemperance, in the things whichwill have excited thy folly, or flattered thy cowardice;remember thou that death will break the frail instrumentsof thy wrath, will extinguish the firebrands that it willhave lighted; remember thou finally,

11. …That riches and the honours
Easily acquired, are easy thus to lose.

Be just: injustice has often easy triumphs; but whatremains after death of the riches that it has procured?Nothing but the bitter remembrance of their loss, and thenakedness of a shameful vice uncovered and reduced toimpotency.

I have proceeded rapidly in the explanation of the foregoinglines, because the morals which they contain, foundedupon the proofs of sentiment, are not susceptible of receivingothers. I do not know if this simple reflection has alreadybeen made, but in any case it ought to draw with it one morecomplicated, and serve to find the reason for the surprisingharmony which reigns, and which has always reigned, amongall the peoples of the earth upon the subject of morals.Man has been allowed to disagree upon subjects of reasoningand opinion, to differ in a thousand ways in those oftaste, to dispute upon the forms of cult, the dogmas ofteachings, the bases of science, to build an infinity of psychologicaland physical systems; but Man has never been able,without belying his own conscience, to deny the truth anduniversality of morals. Temperance, prudence, courage,and justice, have always been considered as virtues, andavarice, folly, cowardice, and injustice, as vices; and this,without the least discussion. Never has any legislatorsaid that it was necessary to be a bad son, a bad friend, abad citizen, envious, ungrateful, perjured. The men mostbeset with these vices have always hated them in others,have concealed them at home, and their very hypocrisyhas been a new homage rendered to morals.

If certain sectarians, blinded by a false zeal and furthermoresystematically ignorant and intolerant, have circulatedthat the cults differing from theirs lacked morals, or receivedimpure ones, it is because they either misunderstood thetrue principles of morals, or they calumniated them; principlesare the same everywhere; only their application ismore or less rigid and their consequences are more or lesswell applied in accordance with the times, the places, andthe men. The Christians extol, and with reason, the purityand the sanctity of their morals; but if it must be told themwith frankness they have nothing in their sacred booksthat cannot be found as forcibly expressed in the sacredbooks of other nations, and often even, in the opinion ofimpartial travellers, one has seen it much better practised.For example, the beautiful maxim touching upon the pardonof offences [364]is found complete in theZend-Avesta. It iswritten: “O God! greater than all that which is great! ifa man provoke you by his thoughts, by his speech, or by hisactions, if he humbles himself before you, pardon him; evenso, if a man provoke me by his thoughts by his speech orby his actions may I pardonhim.”[365]One finds in the samebook, the precept on charity, such as is practised among theMussulmans, and that of agriculture placed in the rank ofvirtues, as among the Chinese. “The King whom you love,what desire you that he shall do, Ormuzd? Do you desirethat, like unto you, he shall nourish thepoor?”[366]“The purest point of the law is to sow the land. He who sowsthe grain and does it with purity is as great before me as hewho celebrates ten thousandadorations.…”[367]“Render the earth fertile, cover it with flowers and with fruits;multiply the springs in the places where there is nograss.”[368]This same maxim of the pardon of offences and those whichdecree to return good for evil, and to do unto others what wewould that they should do unto us, is found in many of theOriental writings. One reads in the distichs of Hafiz thisbeautiful passage:

Learn of the sea-shell to love thine enemy, and to fill withpearls the hand thrust out to harm thee. Be not less generousthan the hard rock; make resplendent with precious stones, thearm which rends thy side. Mark thou yonder tree assailed bya shower of stones; upon those who throw them it lets fall onlydelicious fruits or perfumed flowers. The voice of all naturecalls aloud to us: shall man be the only one refusing to heal thehand which is wounded in striking him? To bless the one whooffends him?[369]

The evangelical precept paraphrased by Hafiz is found insubstance in a discourse of Lysias; it is clearly expressed byThales and Pittacus; Kong-Tse taught it in the same wordsas Jesus; finally one finds in theArya, written more thanthree centuries before our era, these lines which seem madeexpressly to inculcate the maxim and depict the death ofthe righteous man:

The duty of a good man, even at the moment of his destruction,consists not only in forgiving but even in a desire of benefitinghis destroyer; as the Sandal-tree, in the instant of itsoverthrow sheds perfume on the ax which fells; and he wouldtriumph in repeating the verse of Sadi who represents a returnof good for good as a slight reciprocity, but says to the virtuousman, “confer benefits on him who has injuredthee.”[370]

Interrogate the peoples from the Boreal pole to theextremities of Asia, and ask them what they think of virtue:they will respond to you, as Zeno, that it is all that is goodand beautiful; the Scandinavians, disciples of Odin, willshow you theHâvamâl [371],sublime discourse of their ancientlegislator, wherein hospitality, charity, justice, and courageare expressly commended to them: You will know bytradition that the Celts had the sacred verses of theirDruids, wherein piety, justice, and valour were celebratedas nationalvirtues [372];you will see in the books preservedunder the name of Hermes [373]that the Egyptians followedthe same idea regarding morals as the Indians their ancientpreceptors; and these ideas, preserved still in theDharma-Shastra,[374]will strike you in theKings of the Chinese. Itis there, in those sacred books whose origin is lost in thenight of time,[375]that you will find at their source the mostsublime maxims of Fo-Hi, Krishna, Thoth, Zoroaster,Pythagoras, Socrates, and Jesus. Morals, I repeat, areeverywhere the same; therefore it is not upon its writtenprinciples that one should judge of the perfection of thecult, as has been done without reflection, but upon theirpractical application. This application, whence resultsthe national spirit, depends upon the purity of the religiousdogmas, upon the sublimity of the mysteries, and upon theirmore or less great affinity with the Universal Truth whichis the soul, apparent or hidden, of all religion.

12.As to the evils which Destiny involves,
Judge them what they are; endure them all and strive,
As much as thou art able, to modify the traits.
The Gods, to the most cruel, have not exposed the sage.

I have said that Pythagoras acknowledged two motivesof human actions, the power of the Will and the necessityof Destiny, and that he subjected both to one fundamentallaw called Providence from which they emanated alike.The first of these motives was free, and the second constrained:so that man found himself placed between twoopposed, but not injurious natures, indifferently good orbad, according as he understood the use of them. Thepower of the Will was exercised upon the things to be done,or upon the future; the necessity of Destiny, upon the thingsdone, or upon the past: and the one nourished the otherunceasingly, by working upon the materials which they reciprocallyfurnished each other; for according to this admirablephilosopher, it is of the past that the future is born, of thefuture that the past is formed, and of the union of both thatis engendered the always existing present, from which theydraw alike their origin: a most profound idea that theStoics hadadopted.[376]Thus, following this doctrine, libertyrules in the future, necessity in the past, and Providenceover the present. Nothing that exists happens by chancebut by the union of the fundamental and providential lawwith the human will which follows or transgresses it, byoperating uponnecessity.[377]The harmony of the Will andProvidence constitutes Good; Evil is born of their opposition.Man has received three forces adapted to each of thethree modifications of his being, to be guided in the coursethat he should pursue on earth and all three enchained tohis Will. The first, attached to the body, is instinct; thesecond, devoted to the soul, is virtue; the third, appertainingto intelligence, is science or wisdom. These three forces,indifferent in themselves, take this name only through thegood usage that the Will makes of it; for, through bad usagethey degenerate into brutishness, vice, and ignorance. Instinctperceives the physical good or evil resulting fromsensation; virtue recognizes the moral good or evil existingin sentiment; science judges the intelligible good or evilwhich springs from assent. In sensation, good or evil iscalled pleasure or pain; in sentiment, love or hate; in assent,truth or error. Sensation, sentiment, and assent, dwellingin the body, in the soul, and in the spirit, form a ternary,which becoming developed under favour of a relative unityconstitutes the human quaternary, or Man consideredabstractly. The three affections which compose this ternaryact and react upon one another, and become mutuallyenlightened or obscured; and the unity which binds them,that is to say, Man, is perfected or depraved, according asit tends to become blended with the Universal Unity or tobecome distinguished from it. The means that this ternaryhas of becoming blended with it, or of becoming distinguishedfrom it, of approaching near or of drawing away from it,resides wholly in its Will, which, through the use that itmakes of the instruments furnished it by the body, soul,and mind, becomes instinctive or stupefied; is made virtuousor vicious, wise or ignorant, and places itself in conditionto perceive with more or less energy, to understand and tojudge with more or less rectitude what there is of goodness,excellence, and justice in sensation, sentiment, or assent;to distinguish, with more or less force and knowledge, goodand evil; and not to be deceived at last in what is reallypleasure or pain, love or hatred, truth or error.

Indeed one feels that the metaphysical doctrine thatI have just briefly set forth is nowhere found so clearlyexpressed, and therefore I do not need to support it with anydirect authority. It is only by adopting the principles setdown in the Golden Verses and by meditating a long timeupon what has been written by Pythagoras that one isable to conceive the(ensemble). The disciples of this philosopherhaving been extremely discreet and often obscure,one can only well appreciate the opinions of their masterby throwing light upon them with those of the Platonistsand Stoics, who have adopted and spread them without anyreserve.[378]

Man, such as I have just depicted him, according tothe idea that Pythagoras had conceived, placed under thedominion of Providence between the past and the future,endowed with a free will by his essence, and being carriedalong toward virtue or vice with its own movement, Man,I say, should understand the source of the evils that henecessarily experiences; and far from accusing this sameProvidence which dispenses good and evil to each accordingto his merit and his anterior actions, can blame only himselfif he suffers, through an inevitable consequence of his pastmistakes.[379]For Pythagoras admitted many successiveexistences,[380]and maintained that the present, which strikes us, andthe future, which menaces us, are only the expression of thepast which has been our work in anterior times. He said thatthe greater part of men lose, in returning to life, the remembranceof these past existences; but that, concerning himself,he had, by a particular favour of the gods, preserved thememory of them.[381]Thus according to his doctrine, thisfatal Necessity, of which man unceasingly complains, hasbeen created by himself through the use of his will; hetraverses, in proportion as he advances in time, the road thathe has already traced for himself; and according as he hasmodified it by good or evil, as he sows so to speak, his virtuesor his vices, he will find it again more smooth or laborious,when the time will come to traverse it anew.

These are the dogmas by means of which Pythagorasestablished the necessity of Destiny, without harming thepower of the Will, and left to Providence its universal empire,without being obliged either to attribute to it the originof evil, as those who admitted only one principle of things,or to give to evil an absolute existence, as those who admittedtwo principles. In this, he was in accordance withthe ancient doctrine which was followed by the oracles ofthe gods.[382]The Pythagoreans, however, did not regardpain, that is to say, whatever afflicts the body in its mortallife, as veritable evils; they called veritable evils only sins,vices, and errors into which one falls voluntarily. In theiropinion, the physical and inevitable evils being illustratedby the presence of virtue, could be transformed into blessingsand become distinguished andenviable.[383]These lastevils, dependent upon necessity, Lysis commended to bejudged for what they were; that is, to consider as an inevitableconsequence of some mistake, as the chastisementor remedy for some vice; and therefore to endure them, andfar from irritating them further by impatience and anger,on the contrary to modify them by the resignation and acquiescenceof the will to the judgment of Providence. Hedoes not forbid, as one sees in the lines cited, assuagingthem by lawful means; on the contrary, he desires that thesage should apply himself to diverting them if possible, andhealing them. Thus this philosopher did not fall into theexcess with which the Stoics have been justlyreproached.[384]He considered pain evil, not that it was of the same natureas vice, but because its nature, a purgative for vice, makesit a necessary consequence. Plato adopted this idea, andmade all the inferences felt with his customaryeloquence.[385]

As to what Lysis said, always following Pythagoras,that the sage was never exposed to the crudest evils, thiscan be understood as Hierocles has understood it, in a simpleand natural manner, or in a more mysterious manner as Istated. It is evident at once, in following the inferences ofthe principles which have been given, that the sage is not,in reality, subject to the severest evils, since, not aggravatingby his emotions those which the necessity of destinyinflict upon him, and bearing them with resignation, healleviates them; living happy, even in the midst of misfortune,in the firm hope that these evils will no more troublehis days, and certain that the divine blessings which arereserved for virtue, await him in anotherlife.[386]Hierocles,after having revealed this first manner of explaining theverse in question, touches lightly upon the second, in sayingthat the Will of man can have an influence on Providence,when, acting in a lofty soul, it is assisted by succour fromheaven and operates withit.[387]This was a part of thedoctrine taught in the mysteries, whose divulgence to theprofane was forbidden. According to this doctrine, ofwhich sufficiently strong traces can be recognized inPlato,[388]the Will, exerting itself by faith, was able to subjugateNecessity itself, to command Nature, and to work miracles.It was the principle upon which was founded the magicof the disciples ofZoroaster.[389]Jesus saying parabolically,that by means of faith one could removemountains,[390]only spoke according to the theosophical traditions knownto all the sages. “The uprightness of the heart and faithtriumphs over all obstacles,” saidKong-Tse [391];“all mencan render themselves equal to the sages and to the heroeswhose memory the nations revere,” said Meng-Tse; “it isnever the power which is lacking, it is the will; providedone desire, one succeeds.”[392]These ideas of the Chinesetheosophists are found in the writings of theIndians,[393]and even in those of some Europeans who, as I have alreadyobserved, had not enough erudition to be imitators. “Thegreater the will,” said Boehme, “the greater the being andthe more powerfully inspired.”[394]“Will and liberty arethe same thing.”[395]“It is the source of light, the magicwhich makes something fromnothing.”[396]

“The Will which goes resolutely forward is faith; it models itsown form in spirit and overcomes all things; by it, a soul receivesthe power of carrying its influence in another soul, and of penetratingits most intimate essences. When it acts with God it canoverthrow mountains, break the rocks, confound the plots of theimpious, and breathe upon them disorder and dismay; it caneffect all prodigies, command the heavens, the sea, and enchaindeath itself: it subjugates all. Nothing can be named that cannotbe commanded in the name of the Eternal. The soul whichexecutes these great things only imitates the prophets and thesaints, Moses, Jesus, and the apostles. All the elect have asimilar power. Evil disappears before them. Nothing can harmthe one in whom Goddwells.”[397]

It is in departing from this doctrine, taught as I havesaid in the mysteries, that certain gnostics of the Alexandrianschool assert that evils never attended the true sages, ifthere were found men who might have been so in reality;for Providence, image of divine justice, would never allowthe innocent to suffer and be punished. Basil, who wasone of those who supported this Platonicopinion,[398]wassharply reprimanded by the orthodox Christians, who treatedhim as a heretic, quoting to him the example of the martyrs.Basil replied that the martyrs were not entirely innocent,because there is no man exempt from faults; that God punishesin them, either evil desires, actual and secret sins, orsins that the soul had committed in a previous existence;and as they did not fail to oppose him again with the exampleof Jesus, who, although fully innocent, had, however,suffered the torture of the cross, Basil answered withouthesitation that God had been just, in his opinion, and thatJesus, being man, was no more than another exempt fromsin.[399]

13.Even as Truth, does Error have its lovers;
With prudence the Philosopher approves or blames;
If Error triumph, he departs and waits.

It is sufficiently known that Pythagoras was the firstwho used the word Philosopher to designatea friend ofwisdom.[400]Before him, the wordSophos, sage, was used. Itis therefore with intention that I have made it enter intomy translation, although it may not be literally in the text.The portrayal that Lysis gives of the philosopher representseverything in moderation and in that just mean, where thecelebrated Kong-Tse placed also the perfection of thesage.[401]He commended to him tolerance for the opinions of others,instilling in him that, as truth and error have likewise theirfollowers, one must not be flattered into thinking that onecan enlighten all men, nor bring them to accept the samesentiments and to profess the same doctrine. Pythagorashad, following his custom, expressed these same ideas bysymbolic phrases: “Exceed not the balance,” he had said,“stir not the fire with the sword,” “all materials are notfitting to make a statue of Mercury.” That is to say, avoidall excess; depart not from the golden mean which is theappanage of the philosopher; propagate not your doctrineby violent means; use not the sword in the cause of God andthe truth; confide not science to a corrupt soul; or as Jesusforcibly said: “Give not that which is holy unto the dogs,neither cast ye your pearls beforeswine”[402];for all menare not equally fitted to receive science, to become modelsof wisdom, nor to reflect the image of God.

Pythagoras, it must be said, had not always entertainedthese sentiments. While he was young and while he stillburned unconsciously with the fire of passions, he abandonedhimself to a blind and vehement zeal. An excess ofenthusiasm and of divine love had thrown him into intoleranceand perhaps he would have become persecutor, if,like Mohammed, he had had the weapons at hand. Anincident opened his eyes. As he had contracted the habitof treating his disciples very severely, and as he generallycensured men for their vices with much asperity, it happenedone day that a youth, whose mistakes he had publiclyexposed and whom he had upbraided with bitterest reproaches,conceived such despair that he killed himself.The philosopher never thought of this evil of which he hadbeen the cause without violent grief; he meditated deeply,and made from this incident reflections which served him theremainder of his life. He realized, as he energeticallyexpressed it, that one must not stir the fire with the sword.One can, in this regard, compare him with Kong-Tse andSocrates. The other theosophists have not always shownthe same moderation. Krishna, the most tolerant amongthem had nevertheless said, abandoning himself to thoughtlessenthusiasm: “Wisdom consists in being wholly forMe … in freedom from love of self … in loosening allbonds of attachment for one’s children, wife, and home …in rendering to God alone a steadfast cult … disdainingand fleeing from the society ofmen”[403]:words remarkablefor the connection that they have with those of Jesus:“If any man come to me and hate not his father, and mother,and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, andhis own life also, he cannot be mydisciple.”[404]Zoroasterseemed to authorize persecution, saying in an outburst ofindignation: “He who does evil, destroy him; rise up againstall those who are cruel.… Smite with strength theproud Turanian who afflicts and torments thejust.”[405]Oneknows to what pitch of wrath Moses was kindled againstthe Midianites and the other peoples who resistedhim,[406]notwithstanding that he had announced, in a calmer moment,the God of Israel as a God merciful and gracious, long-sufferingand abundant in goodness andtruth.[407]Mohammed,as passionate as Moses, and strongly resembling the legislatorof the Hebrews by his ability and firmness, has falleninto the same excess. He has often depicted, as cruel andinexorable, this same God whom he invokes at the head ofall of his writings, as very good, very just, and veryclement.[408]This proves how rare a thing it is to remain in the goldenmean so commended by Kong-Tse and Pythagoras, howdifficult it is for any pupil to resist the lure of the passionsto stifle utterly their voice, in order to hear only the voiceof the divine inspiration. Reflecting upon the discrepanciesof the great men whom I have just cited, one cannot refrainfrom thinking with Basil, that, in effect, there are no menon earth veritably wise and withoutsin [409];above all whenone considers that Jesus expressed himself in the same detailsas Krishna, Zoroaster, and Moses; and that he who hadexhorted us in one passage to love our enemies, to do goodto those who hate us, and to pray even for those who persecuteand calumniate us,[410]menaces with fire from heaventhe cities that recognize himnot,[411]and elsewhere it iswritten: “Do not think that I came to send peace uponearth: I came not to send peace, but thesword”[412];“Forthere shall be from henceforth five in one house divided:three against two, and two against three. The father shallbe divided against the son, and the son against the father,the mother against the daughter, and the daughter againstthe mother.”[413]“He that is not with me, is against me: andhe that gathereth not with me,scattereth.”[414]

14.Listen, and in thine heart engrave my words;
Keep closed both eye and ear ’gainst prejudice;
Of others the example fear; think for thyself.

Lysis continues, in the name of Pythagoras, to tracefor the philosopher the course that he must follow in thefirst part of his doctrine, which is the Purification. Afterhaving commended to him moderation and prudence inall things, having exhorted him to be as slow to censure asto approve, he seeks to put him on guard against prejudicesand the routine of example, which are, in reality, the greatestobstacles that are encountered by science and truth. Thisis what Bacon, the regenerator of philosophy in modernEurope, so keenly felt, as I have already cited with praiseat the opening of this work. This excellent observer, towhom we owe our freedom from scholastic leading-stringswhose ignorance had stifled for us the name of Aristotle,having formed the difficult enterprise of disencumberingand, as it were, clearing the air belonging to the humanunderstanding, in order to put it in a condition to receivean edifice less barbarous, remarked, that one would neverattain to establishing there the foundation of true science,if one did not first labour to set asideprejudices.[415]Hedisplayed all his forces against these formidable enemies ofhuman perfectibility, and if he did not overthrow them all,at least he indicated them in such a manner as to make iteasier to recognize and destroy them. The prejudiceswhich obsess the human understanding and which he callsidols, are, according to him, of four kinds: these are theidols of the tribe; the idols of the den; the idols of society;and the idols of theories. The first are inherent in humannature; the second are those of each individual; the thirdresult from the equivocal definitions attached to words;the fourth and the most numerous are those that manreceives from his teachers and from the doctrines whichare current.[416]The last are the most tenacious and themost difficult to conquer. It seems even impossible whollyto resist them. The man who aspires to the perilous gloryof improving the human mind, finds himself placed betweentwo formidable dangers, which, like those of Syllaand Charybdis, threaten alternately to break his frail bark:upon one is irresistible routine, upon the other proud innovation.There is danger alike from both sides. He cansave himself only by favour of the golden mean, so commendedby all the sages and so rarely followed even by them.

This golden mean must needs be very difficult to holdin the course of life, since Kong-Tse himself, who has madeit all his study, has lacked it in the most important part ofhis doctrine, in that concerning human perfectibility. Imbuedunknowingly with the prejudices of his nation, hehas seen nothing beyond the doctrine of the ancients andhas not believed that anything might be addedthereunto.[417]Instead of pushing the mind of the Chinese forward towardthe goal where nature unceasingly tends, which is the perfectionof all things, he has, on the contrary, thrown itbackward and, inspiring it with a fanatical respect for worksof the past, has prevented it from meditating upon anythinggreat for thefuture.[418]Filial piety itself, pushed, to excesschanged to a blind imitation, has also augmented the evil.So that the greatest people of the world, the richest in principlesof all kinds, not daring to draw from these sameprinciples any development, through fear of profaning them,continually on their knees before a sterile antiquity, haveremained stationary, whereas all around is progression;and for nearly four thousand years have really not advanceda step more towards the civilization and perfection of thearts and sciences.

The side on which Bacon has departed from the(justemilieu) has been precisely the opposite from that whichprevented Kong-Tse from remaining there. The Chinesetheosophist had been led astray by his excessive venerationfor antiquity and the English philosopher, by his profounddisdain for it. Warned against the doctrine of Aristotle,Bacon has extended his prejudice to everything that camefrom the ancients. Rejecting in a moment the labour ofthirty centuries and the fruit of the meditation of the greatestgeniuses, he has wished to admit nothing beyond whatexperience could confirm in hiseyes.[419]Logic to him hasseemed useless for the invention of thesciences.[420]Hehas abandoned the syllogism, as an instrument too gross topenetrate the depths ofnature.[421]He has thought thatit could be of no avail either in expression of words or inthe ideas which flow fromit.[422]He has believed the abstractprinciples deprived of all foundation; and with thesame hand with which he fights these false ideas he hasfought the results of these principles, in which he has unfortunatelyfound much lessresistance.[423]Filled withcontempt for the philosophy of the Greeks, he has deniedthat it had produced anything either useful orgood [424];so that after having banished the natural philosophy ofAristotle, which he called a jumble of dialecticterms,[425]he has seen in the metaphysics of Plato only a dangerous anddepraved philosophy, and in the theosophy of Pythagorasonly a gross and shockingsuperstition.[426]Here indeed isa case of returning again to the idea of Basil, and of exclaimingwith him, that no man is without sin. Kong-Tse hasbeen unquestionably one of the greatest men who has honouredthe earth, and Bacon one of the most judicious philosophersof Europe; both have, however, committed gravemistakes whose effect is more or less felt by posterity: theformer, filling the Chineseliterati with an exaggerated respectfor antiquity, has made of it an immobile and almostinert mass, that Providence, in order to obtain certainnecessary movements, has had to strike many times with theterrible scourge of revolutions; the latter, inspiring, on thecontrary, a thoughtless contempt for everything that camefrom the ancients, demanding the proof of their principles,the reason for their dogmas, subjecting all to the light ofexperience, has broken the scientific body, has deprived itof unity, and has transformed the assemblage of thinkersinto a tumultuous anarchy from whose irregular movementhas sprung enough violent storms. If Bacon had beenable to effect in Europe the same influence that Kong-Tsehad effected in China, he would have drawn philosophy intomaterialism and absolute empiricism. Happily the remedyis born of the evil itself. The lack of unity has taken awayall force from the anarchical colossus. Each supposingto be in the right, no one was. A hundred systems raisedone upon the other clashed and were broken in turn. Experience,invoked by all parties, has taken all colours andits opposed judgments were self-destructive.

If, after having called attention to the mistakes of thesegreat men, I dared to hazard my opinion upon the pointwhere both of them have failed, I would say that they haveconfused the principles of the sciences with their developments;it must be so, by drawing the principles from thepast, as Kong-Tse; by allowing the developments to actthroughout the future, as Bacon. Principles hold to theNecessity of things; they are immutable in themselves;finite, inaccessible to the senses, they are proved by reason:their developments proceed from the power of the Will;these developments are free, indefinite; they affect the sensesand are demonstrated by experience. Never is the developmentof a principle finished in the past, as Kong-Tsebelieved; never is a principle created in the future, as Baconimagined. The development of a principle produces anotherprinciple, but always in the past; and as soon as this newprinciple is laid down, it is universal and beyond the reachof experience. Man knows that this principle exists, buthe knows not how. If he knew, he would be able to createit at his pleasure; which does not belong to his nature.

Man develops, perfects, or depraves, but he createsnothing. The scientific golden mean commended by Pythagoras,consists therefore, in seizing the principles of thesciences where they are and developing them freely withoutbeing constrained or driven by any false ideas. As to thatwhich concerns morals, it is forcibly enough expressed byall that has preceded.

The man who recognizes his dignity, says Hierocles,is incapable of being prejudiced or seduced byanything.[427]Temperance and force are the two incorruptible guardiansof the soul: they prevent it from yielding to the allurementsof things pleasing and being frightened by the horrors ofthings dreadful. Death suffered in a good cause is illustriousand glorious.

15.Consult, deliberate, and freely choose.

In explaining this line from a moral standpoint as Hierocleshas done, one readily feels that to deliberate and choosein that which relates to moral conduct, consists in seekingfor what is good or evil in an action, and in attaching oneselfto it or fleeing from it, without letting oneself be drawnalong by the lure of pleasure or the fear ofpain.[428]But ifone penetrates still deeper into the meaning of this line, itis seen that it proceeds from principles previously laid downregarding the necessity of Destiny and the power of theWill; and that Pythagoras neglected no opportunity formaking his disciples feel that, although forced by Destinyto find themselves in such or such a condition, they remainedfree to weigh the consequences of their action, and to decidethemselves upon the part that they ought to take. Thefollowing lines are, as it were, the corollary of his counsel.

16.Let fools act aimlessly and without cause,
Thou shouldst, in the present, contemplate the future.

That is to say, thou shouldst consider what will be theresults of such or such action and think that these results,dependent upon thy will (while the action remains in suspenseand free, while they are yet to be born), will becomethe domain of Necessity the very instant when the actionwill be executed, and increasing in the past, once they shallhave had birth, will coöperate in forming the plan of a newfuture.

I beg the reader, interested in these sorts of comparisons,to reflect a moment upon the idea of Pythagoras. He willfind here the veritable source of the astrological science ofthe ancients. Doubtless he is not ignorant of what anextended influence this science exercised already upon theface of the globe. The Egyptians, Chaldeans, Phœnicians,did not separate it from that which regulated the cult ofthe gods.[429]Their temples were but an abridged image ofthe Universe, and the tower which served as an observatorywas raised at the side of the sacrificial altar. ThePeruvians followed, in this respect, the same usages asthe Greeks and Romans.[430]Everywhere the grand Pontiffunited the science of genethlialogy or astrology with thepriesthood, and concealed with care the principles of thisscience within the precincts of thesanctuary.[431]It wasa Secret of State among the Etruscans and atRome,[432]asit still is in China andJapan.[433]The Brahmans did notconfide its elements except to those whom they deemedworthy to be initiated.[434]For one need only lay aside aninstant the bandage of prejudice to see that an Universalscience, linked throughout to what men recognize as themost holy, can not be the product of folly and stupidity,as has been reiterated a hundred times by a host of moralists.All antiquity is certainly neither foolish nor stupid, and thesciences it cultivated were supported by principles which,for us today, being wholly unknown, have none the lessexisted. Pythagoras, if we give attention here, revealedto us those of genethlialogy and of all the sciences of divinationwhich relate thereunto.

Let us observe this closely. The future is composed ofthe past—that is to say, that the route that man traversesin time, and that he modifies by means of the power of hiswill, he has already traversed and modified; in the samemanner, using a practical illustration, that the earth describingits annual orbit around the sun, according to the modernsystem, traverses the same spaces and sees unfold around italmost the same aspects: so that, following anew a routethat he has traced for himself, man would be able not onlyto recognize the imprints of his steps, but to foresee theobjects that he is about to encounter, since he has alreadyseen them, if his memory preserved the image, and if thisimage was not effaced by the necessary consequence of hisnature and the providential laws which rule him. Such isthe doctrine of Pythagoras as I have alreadyrevealed.[435]It was that of the mysteries and of all the sages of antiquity.Origen, who has opposed it, attributes it to the Egyptians,to the Pythagoreans, and to the disciples of Plato. It wascontained in the sacred books of the Chaldeans, cited bySyncellus, under the title of(livresgéniques).[436]Seneca andSynesius have supported it as wholly in accordance withthe spirit of theinitiations.[437]What the ancients calledthegreat year, was a consequence of this doctrine; for it wastaught in the mysteries, that the Universe itself traversed,after a sequence of incalculable centuries, the same revolutionsthat it had already traversed, and brought around inthe vast unfolding of its concentric spheres, as much for itas for the worlds which compose it, the succession of thefour ages, the duration of which, relative to the nature ofeach being, immense for the Universal Man, is limited inthe individual to what is called infancy, youth, manhood,and old age, and is represented on the earth by the fleetingseasons of spring, summer, autumn, and winter. This greatyear, thus conceived, has been common to all the peoplesof the earth.[438]Cicero has plainly seen that it constitutedthe veritable basis of genethlialogy or the astrologicalscience.[439]Indeed if the future is composed of the past—thatis, a thing already made, upon which the present is graduallyunfolded as upon the circumference of a circle which hasneither beginning nor end, it is evident that one can succeed,up to a certain point, to recognize it, whether by means ofremembrance, by examining in the past, the picture of thewhole revolution; or by means of prevision carrying themoral sight, more or less far, upon the route through whichthe Universe is passing. These two methods have gravedisadvantages. The first appears even impossible. Forwhat is the duration of the great year? What is the immenseperiod, which, containing the circle of all possible aspectsand of all corresponding effects, as Cicero supposes, is able,by observations made and set down in the genethliaticarchives, to foresee, at the second revolution, the return ofthe events which were already linked there and which mustbe reproduced?[440]Plato exacts, for the perfection of thisgreat year, that the movement of the fixed stars, whichconstitutes what we call the precession of the equinoxes,should coincide with the particular movement of the celestialbodies, so as to bring back the heavens to the fixedpoint of its primitiveposition.[441]The Brahmans carrythe greatest duration of this immense period, which theynameKalpa, to 4,320,000,000 of years, and its mean duration,which they nameMaha-Youg, to4,320,000.[442]TheChinese appear to restrict it to 432,000years,[443]and inthis they agree with the Chaldeans; but when one reducesit again to a twelfth of this number, with the Egyptians,that is, to the sole revolution of the fixed stars, which theymade, according to Hipparchus, 36,000 years, and whichwe make no more than 25,867, according to moderncalculations,[444]we feel indeed that we would be still very far fromhaving a series of observations capable of making us foreseethe return of the same events, and that we could not conceiveeven, how men could ever attain to its mastery. Asto the second method, which consists, as I have said, incarrying forward the moral sight upon the route which onehas before him, I have no need to observe that it can beonly very conjectural and very uncertain, since it dependsupon a faculty which man has never possessed except as aspecial favour of Providence.

The principle by which it is claimed that the future isonly a return of the past, did not therefore suffice to recognizeeven the plan of it; a second principle is necessary, andthis principle, openly announced in the Golden Verses, aswe shall see farther on, was that by which it was establishedthat Nature is everywhere alike, and, consequently, that itsaction, being uniform in the smallest sphere as in the greatest,in the highest as in the lowest, can be inferred from both,and pronounced by analogy. This principle proceededfrom the ancient dogma concerning the animation of theUniverse, as much in general as in particular: a dogma consecratedamong all nations, and following which it was taughtthat not only the Great All, but the innumerable worldswhich are like its members, the heavens and the heavenof heavens, the stars and all the beings who people themeven to the plants and metals, are penetrated by the sameSoul and moved by the sameSpirit.[445]Stanley attributes thisdogma to the Chaldeans,[446]Kircher to the Egyptians,[447]andthe wise Rabbi Maimonides traces it back to theSabæans.[448]Saumaise has attributed to them the origin of astrologicalscience,[449]and he is correct in one point. But of what useis it to consider the movement of the heavens and the respectiveposition of the stars belonging to the same sphereas the earth, in order to form the genethliatical theme of theempires of nations, cities, and even of simple individuals,and conclude from the point of departure in the temporalroute of existence, the aim of this route and the fortunateor unfortunate events with which they should be sown, ifone had not established, primarily, that this route, being onlysome portion of an existing sphere and already traversed,it belonged thus to the domain of Necessity and could beknown; and, secondarily, that the analogical(rapport) rulingbetween the sentient sphere that one examined and theintelligible sphere that one could not perceive, authorizeddrawing inferences from both and even deciding from thegeneral to the particular? For, believing that the starshave an actual and direct influence upon the destiny ofpeoples and of men, and that they even determine thisdestiny by their good or evil aspects, is an idea as false asridiculous, born of the darkness of modern times, and thatis not found among the ancients, even among the mostignorant masses. The genethliatical science is supportedby principles less absurd. These principles, drawn fromthe mysteries, were, as I have explained, that the future isa return of the past and that nature is everywhere the same.

It is from the union of these two principles that resultedgenethlialogy, or the science by which the point of departurebeing known in any sphere whatever, they believedthey had discovered, by the aspect and direction of thestars, the portion of this sphere which must immediatelyfollow this point. But this union, outside of the enormousdifficulty that it presented, still involved in its executionvery dangerous consequences. This is why they concealedin the sanctuaries the science which was its object, and madeof religion a secret and state affair. The prevision of thefuture, supposing it possible as the ancients did, is not, ineffect, a science that one should abandon to the vulgar, who,being unable to acquire previously the learning necessary,and having but rarely the wisdom which regulates its use,risked debasing it, or making use of it wrongfully. Furthermore,the pontiffs, who were in sole charge, initiated in thegreat mysteries and possessing the(ensemble) of the doctrine,knew very well that the future, such even as they couldhope to understand it in the perfection of the science, wasnever aught but a doubtful future, a sort of canvas uponwhich the power of the Will might exercise itself freely, insuch a manner that, although the matter might be determinedbeforehand, its form was not, and that such an imminentevent could be suspended, evaded, or changed by acoöperation of the acts of the will, inaccessible to all prevision.This is what was said with such profoundness byTiresias, the most famous hierophant of Greece and whomHomer called the onlysage,[450]these words so often quotedand so little understood: “Whatever I may see will cometo pass, or it will not come topass”[451];that is to say, Theevent that I see is in the necessity of Destiny and it willcome to pass, unless it is changed by the power of the Will;in which case it will not come to pass.

17.That which thou dost not know, pretend not that thou dost.
Instruct thyself: for time and patience favour all.

Lysis has enclosed in these two lines the summary ofthe doctrine of Pythagoras regarding science: according tothis philosopher, all science consists of knowing how todistinguish what one does not know and of desiring to learnthat of which one knowsnothing.[452]Socrates had adoptedthis idea, as simple as profound; and Plato has consecratedseveral of his dialogues to itsdevelopment.[453]

But the distinction between what one does not knowand the desire to learn that of which one is ignorant, isa thing much rarer than one imagines. It is the goldenmean of science, as difficult to possess as that of virtue, andwithout which it is, however, impossible to know oneself.For, without knowledge of oneself, how can one acquireknowledge of others? How judge them if one cannot beone’s own judge? Pursue this reasoning. It is evidentthat one can know only what one has learned from others,or what one has found from oneself: in order to have learnedfrom others, one must have wished to receive lessons; inorder to have found, one must have wished to seek; butone cannot reasonably desire to learn or to seek only forwhat one believes one does not know. If one imposes upononeself this important point, and if one imagines oneselfknowing that of which one is ignorant, one must judge itwholly useless to learn or to seek, and then ignorance isincurable: it is madness to style oneself doctor concerningthings that one has neither learned nor sought after, and ofwhich one can consequently have no knowledge. It is Platowho has made this irresistible reasoning, and who has drawnthis conclusion: that all the mistakes that man commits comefrom that sort of ignorance which makes him believe thathe knows what he does notknow.[454]

From time immemorial this sort of ignorance has beenquite considerable; but I believe that it will never againshow itself to the extent it did among us some centuriesago. Men hardly free from the mire of barbarism, withoutbeing given the time either to acquire or to seek after anytrue knowledge of antiquity, have offered themselves boldlyas its judges and have declared that the great men who havemade it illustrious were either ignorant, imposters, fanatics,or fools. Here, I see musicians who seriously assure methat the Greeks were rustics in the way of music; that allthat can be said of the wonders effected by this art is idletalk, and that we have not a village fiddler who could notproduce as much effect as Orpheus, Terpander, or Timotheus,if he had similarauditors.[455]There, are the critics whotell me with the same phlegmatic air that the Greeks of thetime of Homer knew neither how to read nor how to write;that this poet himself, assuming that he really existed, didnot know the letters of thealphabet [456];but that his existenceis a fancy,[457]and that the works attributed to himare the crude productions of certain plagiaristrhapsodists.[458]Further on I see, to complete the singularity, a researchworker who finds, doubtless to the support of all this, thatthe first editor of the poems of Homer, the virile legislatorof Sparta, Lycurgus in short, was a man ignorant and unlettered,knowing neither how to read norwrite [459]:quitean original idea and a comparison wholly bizarre, betweenthe author and the editor of theIliad! But this is nothing.Here is an archbishop of Thessalonica, who, animated by arighteous indignation, declared that Homer may have beenan instrument of thedevil,[460]and that one may be damnedin reading him. That one shrugs the shoulders at the allegoriesof this poet, that one finds them not in the least interesting,that one falls asleep even, let all that pass; butto be damned! I have said that Bacon, drawn along unfortunatelyby that fatal prejudice which makes one judgewithout understanding, had calumniated the philosophyof the Greeks; his numerous disciples have even surpassedhim upon this point. Condillac, the(coryphée) of modernempiricism, has seen in Plato only delirious metaphysicsunworthy of occupying his time, and in Zeno only logicdeprived of reasoning and principles. I would that Condillac,so great an amateur of analysis, had endeavoured toanalyse the metaphysics of the one and the logic of the other,to prove to me that he understood at least what he found sounworthy of taking up his time; but that was the thingabout which he thought the least. Open whatever bookyou will; if the authors are theologians, they will say to youthat Socrates, Pythagoras, Zoroaster, Kong-Tse or Confucius,as they call him, arepagans,[461]whose damnation is, if notcertain, at least very probable; they will treat their theosophywith the most profound contempt: if they are physicists,they will assure you that Thales, Leucippus, Heraclitus,Parmenides, Anaxagoras, Empedocles, Aristotle, and theothers are miserable dreamers; they will jeer at their systems:if they are astronomers, they will laugh at their astronomy:if they are naturalists, chemists, botanists, they will makejest of their methods, and will take into consideration theircredulity, their stupidity, their bad faith, the numerouswonders that they no longer understand in Aristotle andin Pliny. None will take the trouble to prove their assertions;but, like people blinded by passion and ignorance,they state as fact what is in question, or putting their ownideas in place of those that they do not understand theywill create phantoms for the sake of fighting them. Nevergoing back to the principles of anything, stopping only atforms, adopting without examination the commonest notions,they will commit on all sides the same mistake thatthey have committed with respect to the genethliaticalscience, the principles of which I have shown in my lastExamination; and confounding this science of the ancientswith the astrology of the moderns, they will consider inthe same light Tiresias and Nostradamus, and will see nodifference between the oracle of Ammon, or of Delphi, andthe lucky chance of the most paltry fortune-teller.

However, I do not pretend to say that all the modernsavants indulge, in this same manner, in presumption andfalse notions with regard to antiquity; there have been manyhonourable exceptions among them: even those have beenfound who, drawn beyond the golden mean, by the necessityof effecting a useful reform or of establishing a new system,have returned there as soon as their passion or their interesthave no longer commanded them. Such for example isBacon, to whom philosophy has owed enough great favoursto forget certain incidental prejudices; for I am, furthermore,far from attributing to him the errors of his disciples.Bacon, at the risk of contradicting himself, yielding to thesentiment of truth, although he subjected all to the light ofexperience, admitted, however, positive and real universals,which, by his method are whollyinexplicable.[462]Forgettingwhat he had said of Plato in one book, he declaredin another: that this philosopher, endowed with a sublimegenius, turning his attention upon all nature and contemplatingall things from a lofty elevation, had seen very clearly,in his doctrine of ideas, what the veritable objects of scienceare.[463]Finally recognizing the principles of physics andthe(ensemble) of things as the foremost to be considered, hemade astrological science, which he likened to astronomy,depend upon it, in such a manner as to show that he didnot confound it with vulgar astrology. This philosopherfound that before his time, astronomy, well enough foundedupon phenomena, utterly lacked soundness, and that astrologyhad lost its true principles. To be sure he agreed withastronomy presenting the exterior of celestial phenomena,that is to say, the number, situation, movement, and periodsof the stars; but he accused it of lacking in understandingof the physical reasons of these phenomena. He believedthat a single theory which contents itself with appearancesis a very easy thing, and that one can imagine an infinityof speculations of this sort; also he wished that the scienceof astronomy might be further advanced.

Instead of revealing the reasons of celestial phenomena [hesaid], one is occupied only with observations and mathematicaldemonstrations; for these observations and these demonstrationscan indeed furnish certain ingenious hypotheses to settle all thatin one’s mind, and to make an idea of this assemblage, but notto know precisely how and why all this is actually in nature:they indicate, at the most, the apparent movements, the artificialassemblage, the arbitrary combination of all these phenomena,but not the veritable causes and the reality of things: andas to this subject [he continues], it is with very little judgmentthat astronomy is ranked among the mathematical sciences;this classification derogates from itsdignity.[464]

Regarding astrological science, Bacon wished that it mightbe regenerated completely by bringing it back to its realprinciples, that is to say, that one should reject all that thevulgar had added thereto, both narrow and superstitious,preserving only the grand revolutions of the ancients. Theseideas, as is quite obvious, are not at all in accord with thosethat his disciples have adopted since; also the greater partof them refrain from citing similar passages.

18.Neglect not thy health …

I had at first the intention of making here some allusionto the manner in which Pythagoras and the ancient sagesconsidered medicine; and I had wished to reveal their principles,quite different from those of the moderns; but I haverealized that an object so important requires developmentsthat this work would not allow and I have left them for atime more opportune, and for a work more suitable. Moreoverthe line of Lysis has no need of explanation; it is clear.This philosopher commends each one to guard his health,to keep it by temperance and moderation, and if it becomesimpaired, to put himself in condition of not confiding toanother the care of its re-establishment. This precept wassufficiently understood by the ancients for it to have becomea sort of proverb.

The Emperor Tiberius, who made it a rule of conduct,said that a man of thirty years or more who called or evenconsulted a physician was an ignoramus.[465]It is truethat Tiberius did not add to the precept the exercise of thetemperance that Lysis did not forget to commend in thefollowing lines, also he lived only seventy-eight years, notwithstandingthe strength of his constitution promised hima much longer life. Hippocrates of Cos, the father of medicinein Greece and strongly attached to the doctrine ofPythagoras, lived one hundred and four years; Xenophile,Apollonius, Tyanæus, Demonax, and many other Pythagoreanphilosophers lived to one hundred and six and one-hundredand ten years; and Pythagoras himself, althoughviolently persecuted towards the end of his life, attained tonearly ninety-nine years according to some and even to thecentury mark according to others.[466]

19. …Dispense with moderation,
Food to the body, and to the mind repose,

The body, being the instrument of the soul, Pythagorasdesired that one should take reasonable and necessary careof it in order to hold it always in condition to execute thebehests of the soul. He regarded its preservation as a partof the purgative virtue.[467]

20.Too much attention or too little shun; for envy
Thus, to either excess is alike attached.

The philosopher, firm in his principle of(juste milieu),wished that his disciples should avoid excess in all things,and that they should not draw attention to themselves byan unusual way of living. It was a widespread opinion amongthe ancients, that envy, shameful for the one who felt itand dangerous for the one who inspired it, had fatal consequencesfor both.[468]For envy is attached to all that tendsto distinguish men too ostensibly. Thus, notwithstandingall that has been published of the extraordinary rules andsevere abstinences that Pythagoras imposed upon his disciplesand that he made them observe, it appears indubitablethat they were only established after his death, and thathis interpreters, being deceived regarding the mysteriousmeaning of these symbols, take in the literal sense, what hehad said in the figurative. The philosopher blamed onlythe excess, and permitted besides, a moderate usage of allthe foods to which men were accustomed. Even the beans,for which his disciples later conceived so much abhorrence,were eaten frequently.[469]He did not forbid absolutely eitherwine, or meat, or even fish, whatever may have been assertedat different times [470];though, indeed, those of hisdisciples who aspired to the highest perfection abstainedfrom them [471];he represented drunkenness and intemperanceonly as odious vices that should beavoided.[472]He had noscruples about drinking a little wine himself, and of tastingthe meats set before him attable,[473]in order to show thathe did not regard them as impure, notwithstanding he preferredthe vegetable(régime) to all others and that, for themost part, he restricted himself to it fromchoice.[474]Furtheron I will return to the mystic meaning of the symbols, bywhich he had the appearance of forbidding the use of certainfoods and above all beans.

21.Luxury and avarice have similar results.
One must choose in all things a mean just and good.

Lysis terminates the purgative part of the doctrine ofPythagoras with the trait which characterizes it in generaland in particular; he has shown the golden mean in virtueand in science; he has commended it in conduct, he statesin full and says openly that extremes meet; that luxuryand avarice differ not in their effects, and that philosophyconsists in avoiding excess in everything. Hierocles addsthat, to be happy, one must know how, where, when, and howmuch to take; and that he who is ignorant of these justlimits is always unhappy and he proves it as follows:

Voluptuousness [he said] is necessarily the effect of an action:now, if the action is good the voluptuousness remains; if it isevil the voluptuousness passes and is corrupted. When one doesa shameful thing with pleasure, the pleasure passes and the shameremains. When one does an excellent thing with great troubleand labour the pain passes and the excellence alone remains.Whence it follows necessarily, that the evil life is also bitter andproduces as much sorrow and chagrin as the good life is sweetand procures joy andcontentment.[475]

“As the flame of a torch tends always upward whicheverway one turns it,” said the Indian sages, “thus the manwhose heart is afire with virtue, whatever accident befallshim, directs himself always toward the end that wisdomindicates.”[476]

“Misfortune follows vice, and happiness virtue,” saidthe Chinese, “as the echo follows the voice and the shadowhim who moves.”[477]

O virtue! divine virtue! [exclaimsKong-Tse [478]] a celestialpower presents thee to us, an interior force conducts us towardthee; happy the mortal in whom thou dwellest! he strikes thegoal without effort, a single glance suffices for him to penetratethe truth. His heart becomes the sanctuary of peace and hisvery inclinations protect his innocence. It is granted to the sageonly, to attain to so desirable a state. He who aspires to thismust resolve upon the good and attach himself strongly to it;he must apply himself to the study of himself, interrogate nature,examine all things carefully, meditate upon them and allownothing to pass unfathomed. Let him develop the faculties ofhis soul, let him think with force, let him put energy and firmnessinto his actions. Alas! how many men there are who seek virtueand science, and who stop in the middle of their course, becausethe goal keeps them waiting! My studies, they say, leave mewith all my ignorance, all my doubts; my efforts, my laboursenlarge neither my views nor my sagacity; the same clouds hoverover my understanding and obscure it; I feel my forces abandoningme and my will giving way beneath the weight of the obstacle.No matter; guard yourself against discouragement; that whichothers have been able to attain at the first attempt, you may beable at the hundredth; that which they have done at the hundredth,you will do at thethousandth.[479]

Perfection

22.Let not sleep e’er close thy tired eyes,
Without thou ask thyself; What have I omitted, and what done?

Lysis, after having indicated the route by which Pythagorasconducted his disciples to virtue, goes on to teachthem the use that this philosopher wished them to makeof this celestial gift, once they had mastered it. Up tothis point it is confined in the purgative part of the doctrineof his teacher; he now passes to the unitive part,that is to say, to that which has as object the uniting ofman to the Divinity, by rendering him more and more likeunto the model of all perfection and of all wisdom, which isGod. The sole instrument capable of operating this unionhas been placed at his disposition by means of the good usagethat he has made of his will: it is virtue which must servehim at present to attain truth. Now, Truth is the ultimategoal of perfection: there is nothing beyond it and nothingthis side of it but error; light springs from it; it is thesoul of God, according toPythagoras,[480]and God himself,according to the legislator of theIndians.[481]

The first precept that Pythagoras gave to his discipleson entering the course of perfection tended to turn theirthoughts upon themselves, to bring them to interrogatetheir actions, their thoughts, their discourse, to questionthe motives, to reflect in short upon their exterior movementsand seek thus to know themselves. Knowledge of selfwas the most important knowledge of all, that which mustconduct them to all others. I will not weary my readersby adding anything to what I have already said pertainingto the importance of this knowledge, and the extreme valueset upon it by the ancients. They know unquestionablythat the morals of Socrates and the philosophy of Plato wereonly the development of it and that an inscription in thetemple of Greece, that of Delphi, commended it, after thatof the golden mean, as the very teaching of the God whomthey worshipped there [482]:Nothing in excess, and know Thyself,contained in few words the doctrine of the sages,and presented for their meditation the principles uponwhich reposed virtue and wisdom which is its consequence.Nothing further was necessary to electrify the soul of Heraclitusand to develop the germs of genius, which until themoment when he read these two sentences were buried in acold inertia.

I will not pause therefore to prove the necessity of aknowledge without which all other is but doubt and presumption.I will only examine, in a brief digression, ifthis knowledge is possible. Plato, as I have said, made thewhole edifice of his doctrine rest upon it; he taught, accordingto Socrates, that ignorance of one’s self involves allignorance, all mistakes, all vices, and all misfortunes; whereasknowledge of one’s self, on the contrary, draws all virtueand all goodness [483]:so that it cannot be doubted that thisknowledge might be considered possible, since its impossibilitymerely questioned would render its system null andvoid. However, as Socrates had said that he knew nothing,in order to distinguish himself from the sophists of his daywho pretended to know everything; as Plato had constantlyused in his teachings that sort of dialectic which, proceedingtoward truth by doubt, consists in defining things for whatthey are, knowing their essence, distinguishing those whichare real from those which are only illusory; and above allas the favourite maxim of these two philosophers had beenthat it was necessary to renounce all manner of prejudices,not pretending to know that of which one is ignorant, andgiving assent only to clear and evident truths; it came topass that the disciples of these great men, having lost sightof the real spirit of their doctrine, took the means for theend; and imagining that the perfection of wisdom was inthe doubt which leads to it, established as fundamentalmaxim, that the wise man ought neither to affirm nor denyanything; but to hold his assent suspended between thepro andcon of eachthing.[484]Arcesilaus, who declaredhimself the chief of this revolution, was a man of vast intellect,endowed with much physical and moral means, animposing presence, and veryeloquent,[485]but imbued withthat secret terror which prevents concentrating upon thethings that one regards as sacred and forbidden; audaciousand almost impious to all outward appearance, he was, inreality, timid andsuperstitious.[486]Impressed with theinadequacy of his researches to discover the certainty ofcertain principles, his vanity had persuaded him that thiscertainty was undiscoverable, since he, Arcesilaus, did notfind it; and his superstition acting in accord with his vanity,he finally believed that the ignorance of man is an effect ofthe will of God; and that, according to the meaning of a passagefrom Hesiod that he cited unceasingly, the Divinity hasspread an impenetrable veil between it and the humanunderstanding.[487]Also he named the effect of this ignorance,Acatalepsy, that is to say incomprehensibility, orimpossibility to raise theveil.[488]His disciples in greatnumbers adopted this incomprehensibility and applied itto all sorts of subjects; now denying, then affirming thesame thing; placing a principle, and overthrowing it thenext moment; becoming entangled themselves in captiousarguments in order to prove that they knew nothing, andmaking for themselves the calamitous glory of ignoringgood and evil, and of being unable to distinguish virtuefrom vice.[489]Dismal effect of an early error! Arcesilausbecame the convincing proof of what I have repeated touchingthe golden mean and the similitude of extremes: oncehaving left the path of truth, he became through weaknessand through superstition the head of a crowd of audaciousatheists, who, after having called in question the principlesupon which logic and morals repose, placed there those ofreligion and overthrew them. Vainly he essayed to arrestthe movement of which he had been the cause by establishingtwo doctrines: the one public, wherein he taught skepticism;the other secret, wherein he maintaineddogmatism [490]:the time was no longer favourable for this distinction. Allthat he gained was to let another usurp the glory and togive his name to the new sect of doubters. It was Pyrrhowho had this honour. This man, of a character as firm asimpassive, to whom living or dying was a matter of indifference,who preferred nothing to something, whom a precipiceopening beneath his feet would be unable to swerve fromhis path, gathered under his colours all those who made aphilosophical profession of doubting everything, of recognizingnowhere the character of truth, and he gave them asort of doctrine wherein wisdom was placed in the mostcomplete uncertainty, felicity in the most absolute inertia,and genius in the art of stifling all kinds of genius by theaccumulation of contradictoryreasonings.[491]Pyrrho hadmuch contempt for men, as was obvious from the doctrinewhich he gave them. He had constantly on his lips thisline of Homer: “Even as are the generations of leaves suchare those likewise ofmen.”[492]

I pause a moment here, in order that the reader mayobserve, that although the thought of Hesiod, concerningthe veil that the gods had spread between them and men,and which gave rise to Arcesilaus establishing his acatalepsy,had originated inIndia,[493]it had never had the sameresults there; and this, because the Brahmans, in teachingthat this veil existed and that it even bewildered the vulgarby a series of illusory phenomena, have never said that itwas impossible to raise it; because this might have been anattack on the power of the will of man and its perfectibility,to which they put no limit. We shall see further on thatsuch was also the idea of Pythagoras. Let us return to theSkeptics.

The writer to whom we owe a comparative history ofthe systems of philosophy, written with thought and impartiality,has felt keenly that skepticism ought to be consideredunder two relations: as skepticism of criticism andreform, necessary to correct the presumption of the humanmind and to destroy its prejudices; as skepticism absoluteand determined, which confounds in a common proscriptionboth truth anderror.[494]The first, of which Socratesgave the example, and which Bacon and Descartes haverevived, is a sort of intellectual remedy that Providenceprepares for healing one of the most fatal maladies of thehuman mind, that kind of presumptuous ignorance whichmakes one believe that he knows that which he does notknow: the second, which is only the excess and abuse ofthe first, is this same remedy transformed into poison by anaberration of the human reason which transports it beyondthe circumstances which invoke its action, and employs itto devour itself and to exhaust in their source all the causeswhich cooperate in the progress of humanunderstanding.[495]Arcesilaus was the first to introduce it into the Academyby exaggerating the maxims of Socrates, and Pyrrho madea special system of destruction in it, under the name ofPyrrhonism. This system, welcomed in Greece, soon infectedit with its venom, notwithstanding the vigorous resistanceof Zeno the Stoic, whom Providence had raised upto oppose its ravages.[496]Carried to Rome by Carneades,the head of the third academy, it alarmed with its maximssubversive of public morals, Cato the Censor, who confoundingit with philosophy conceived for it an implacablehatred.[497]This rigid republican, hearing Carneades speak againstjustice, denying the existence of virtues, attacking theDivine Providence, and questioning the fundamental veritiesof religion, held in contempt a science which could bringforth such arguments.[498]He urged the return of the Greekphilosophy, so that the Roman youth might not be imbuedwith its errors; but the evil was done. The destructivegerms that Carneades had left, fermented secretly in theheart of the State, developed under the first favourableconditions, increased and produced at last that formidablecolossus, which, after taking possession of the public mind,having obscured the most enlightened ideas of good andevil, annihilated religion, and delivered the Republic todisorder, civil wars, and destruction; and raising itself againwith the Roman Empire, withering the principles of the lifeit had received, necessitated the institution of a new cultand thus was exposed to the incursion of foreign errors andthe arms of the barbarians. This colossus, victim of itsown fury, after having torn and devoured itself was buriedbeneath the shams that it had heaped up; Ignorance seatedupon its(débris) governed Europe, until Bacon and Descartescame and resuscitating, as much as was possible for themthe Socratic skepticism, endeavoured by its means to turnminds toward the research of truth. But they mightnot have done so well, had they not also awakened certainremnants of Pyrrhonic skepticism, which, being sustainedwith their passions and their prejudices, soon resulted inbewildering their disciples. This new skepticism, naïve inMontaigne, dogmatic in Hobbes, disguised in Locke, masterlyin Bayle, paradoxical but seductive in the greater number ofthe eighteenth-century writers, hidden now beneath thesurface of what is called Experimental philosophy, luresthe mind on toward a sort of empirical routine, and unceasinglydenying the past, discouraging the future, aimsby all kinds of means to retard the progress of the humanmind. It is no more even the character of truth; and theproof of this character that the modern skeptics demandad infinitum,[499]is the demonstration of the very possibilityof understanding this character and of proving it: a newsubtlety that they have deduced from the unfruitful effortsthat certain thinkers have made recently in Germany, togive to the possibility of the knowledge of self, a basis whichthey have not given.

I will relate in my next Examination, what has hinderedthese savants from finding this basis. I must, before terminatingthis one, show to my readers how I believe onecan distinguish the two kinds of skepticism of which I havejust spoken. A simple question put to a skeptic philosopherwill indicate whether he belongs to the school of Socratesor Pyrrho. He must before entering into any discussionreply clearly to this demand: Do you admit of any differencewhatever between that which is and that which is not? Ifthe skeptic belongs to the school of Socrates, he will necessarilyadmit a difference and he will explain it, which willmake him recognized at once. If on the contrary, he belongsto that of Pyrrho, he will respond in one of three ways:either that he admits a difference, or that he admits none,or that he does not know whether one exists. If he admitsit without explaining it, he is beaten; if he does not admit it,he falls into absurdity; if he pretends not to distinguish it,he becomes foolish and ridiculous.

He is beaten, if he admits a difference between thatwhich is and that which is not; because that difference,admitted, proves the existence of being; the existence ofbeing proves that of the skeptic who replies; and thatexistence proved, proves all the others, whether one considersthem in him, or outside of him, which is the same thing forthe moment.

He falls into absurdity, if he does not admit any differencebetween that which is and that which is not, for thenone can prove to him that 1 is equal to 0, and that the partis as great as the whole.

He becomes foolish and ridiculous, if he dares to say thathe does not know whether a difference really exists betweenthat which is, and that which is not; for then one asks himwhat he did at the age of six months, at one year, twoyears, two weeks ago, yesterday? Whatever he replies, hewill become the object of ridicule.

Behold the Pyrrhonian beaten, that is to say, the onewho professes to doubt everything; since a single acknowledgeddifference bringing him irresistibly to a certainty,and since one certainty militates against all the others, thereis no further doubt; and since, doubting no further, it isonly a question then of knowing what he ought, or oughtnot to doubt: this is the true character of the skeptic of theSocratic School.

23.Abstain thou if ’tis evil; persevere if good.

But although one may bring the absolute skeptic to agreethat a difference between good and evil can indeed exist,as he is forced to agree that one does exist between thatwhich is and that which is not, just as I have demonstratedin my preceding Examination; would he not be right insaying, that to know in general, that good and evil can differand consequently exist separately, does not prevent confoundingthem in particular; and that he can doubt thatman may be able to make the distinction, until one may haveproved to him that not alone their knowledge, but that somesort of knowledge is possible? Assuredly, this is pushingdoubt very far. One could dispense with replying to this,since the skeptic already interrogated concerning the differenceexisting between what is and what is not has beenforced to admit it and to acquire thus some sort of knowledgeof being; but let us forget this, in order to examine whythe savants of Germany have inadequately removed a difficultywhich they have imposed upon themselves.

It is Kant, one of the ablest minds that Europe has producedsince the extinction of learning, who, resolved toterminate with a single blow the struggle springing upunceasingly between dogmatism and skepticism, has beenthe first to form the bold project of creating a science whichshould determine,a priori, the possibility, the principles,and the limits of allknowledge.[500]This science, which henamedCritical Philosophy, or method ofjudgment,[501]hehas developed in several works of considerable length andvery difficult of comprehension. I do not intend here tomake an explanation of this science; for this labour, out ofplace in these Examinations, would carry me too far. Myintention is only to show the point wherein it has given way,and how it has furnished new weapons for the skeptics,in not holding well to the promise that it had made of determiningthe principle of knowledge. Therefore, I will supposethe doctrine of Kant understood or partially so. Severalworks, circulated somewhat extensively in France, haveunravelled it sufficiently to thesavants.[502]I will only saywhat the authors of these works have been unable to say,and this will be the general result of the impression that thestudy of this doctrine has made upon me: it is that Kant,who pretends to found all his doctrine upon principles,a priori, abstraction being made of all the underlying notionsof experience, and who, rising into an ideal sphere there toconsider reason in an absolute way, independent of itseffects so as to deduce from it a theory transcendental andpurely intelligible, concerning the principle of knowledge,has done precisely the opposite from what he wished to do;for not finding what he sought, he has found what he hasnot sought, that is to say, the essence of matter. Let thedisciples of this philosophy give attention to what I say.I have known several systems of philosophy and I have putconsiderable force into penetrating them; but I can affirmthat there exists not a single one upon the face of the earth,wherein the primitive matter of which the Universe is composedmay be characterized by traits as striking as in thatof Kant. I believe it impossible either to understand itbetter or to depict it better. He uses neither figures, norsymbols; he tells what he sees with a candour which wouldhave been appalling to Pythagoras and Plato; for what theKoenigsberg professor advances concerning both the existenceand the non-existence of thismatter,[503]and of its intuitivereality, and of its phenomenal illusion, and of itsessential forms, time and space, and of the labour that themind exercises upon this equivocal being, which, alwaysbeing engendered, never, however, exists; all this, taught inthe mysteries, was only clearly revealed to the initiate.Listen a moment to what has transpired in India: it is thefundamental axiom of theVedantic school, the illustriousdisciples of Vyasa and of Sankarâchârya, an axiom in accordancewith the dogmas of the sacred books.

Matter exists [say these philosophers], but not of an existencesuch as is imagined by the vulgar; it exists but it has no essenceindependent of intellectual perceptions; for existence and perceptibilityare, in this case, convertible terms. The sage knowsthat appearances and their exterior sensations are purely illusoryand that they would vanish into nothingness, if the Divine energywhich alone sustains them was for an instantsuspended.[504]

I beg the disciples of Kant to give attention to thispassage, and to remember what Plato has said of the same,that, sometimes matter exists and sometimes it does notexist [505];as Justin the martyr, and Cyril of Alexandria havereproached him for it; and as Plutarch and Chalcidiushave strongly remarkedit,[506]in seeking to excuse this apparentcontradiction.

Let us endeavour now to call attention to the pointwhere Kant is led astray. This point, in the philosophicalcourse that this savant meant to pursue, seemed at first ofvery slight importance; but the deviation that it causes,although small and almost imperceptible at the first instant,determines none the less a divergent line, which, turningaside more and more from the right line proportionably asit is prolonged, is found to strike at an enormous distancefrom the mark where Kant hoped it would arrive. Thisdeviating point—who would have believed it—is found inthe misinterpretation and the misapplication of a word.All the attention of the reader is required here. What Iam about to say, in demonstrating the error of the Germanphilosopher, will serve to supplement all that I have saidpertaining to the doctrine of Pythagoras.

Kant, whether through imitation of the ancient philosophersor through the effect of his own learning which hadmade him desirous of knowing the truth, has consideredman under three principal modifications which he callsfaculties. In my twelfth Examination I have said thatsuch was the doctrine of Pythagoras. Plato, who followedin everything the metaphysics of this great genius, distinguishedin Man as in the Universe, the body, soul, and spirit;and placed, in each of the modifications of the particular oruniversal unity which constituted them, the analogousfaculties which, becoming developed in their turn, gavebirth to three new modifications whose productive unitythey became [507];so that each ternary is represented in itsdevelopment, under the image of the triple Ternary, andformed by its union with the Unity, first the Quaternaryand afterwards theDecade.[508]Now the German philosopher,without explaining the principle which led him toconsider man under three principal faculties, states them;without saying to what particular modification he attributesthem, that is, without foreseeing if these facultiesare physical, animistic or intellectual; if they belong tothe body, to the soul, or to the mind: a first mistake whichleads him to a second of which I am about to speak.

In order to express these three facilities, Kant makesuse of three words taken from his own tongue and concerningthe meaning of which it is well to fix our attention. Hehas named the first of these facultiesEmpfindlichkeit, thesecond,Verstand, and the third,Vernunft. These threewords are excellent; it is only a question of clearly understandingand explaining them.

The wordEmpfindlichkeit expresses that sort of facultywhich consists in collecting from without, feeling from within,and finding good orbad.[509]It has been very well renderedin French by the word(sensibilité).

The wordVerstand designates that sort of faculty whichconsists in reaching afar, being carried from a central pointto all other points of the circumference to seizethem.[510]It has been quite well rendered in French by the word(entendement).

The wordVernunft is applied to that sort of faculty,which consists in choosing at a distance, in wishing, inselecting, in electing that which isgood.[511]It is expressedby the word(raison); but this expresses it very poorly, whatevermay be the real meaning given it by Kant.

This philosopher ought to have realized more fully theorigin of this word and he should have made a more justapplication; then his system would have taken anotherdirection and he would have attained his goal. He wouldhave made us see, and he would have seen himself, the reality,namely,intelligence and not reason.

One can easily see that the faculty which Kant designatesby the wordEmpfindlichkeit, sense perception, belongs tothe physical part of man; and that which he expresses bythe wordVerstand, the understanding, resides in his animisticpart; but one cannot see at all that what he namesVernunft,and which he continually confounds with reason, may be ablein any manner to dominate in his intellectual part. Forthis, it would be necessary that he should consider it underthe relation of the intelligence; which he has not done. Itis very true that he has wished to place it constantly in themind, by representing the three faculties of which man iscomposed as a sort of hierarchy, of which sense perceptionoccupies the base, understanding the centre, and reason thesummit; or as one of his translators said, imagining thishierarchy under the emblem of an empire, of which senseperception constitutes the subjects, understanding theagents or ministers, and reason the sovereign orlegislator.[512]I cannot conceive how Kant, by giving the wordVernunft,the meaning of the Latin wordratio, has been able to saythat it is the highest degree of the activity of a mind whichhas the power of all its liberty, and the consciousness of allits strength [513]:there is nothing more false. Reason doesnot exist in liberty, but on the contrary, in necessity. Itsmovement, which is geometric, is always forced: it is aninference from the point of departure, and nothing more.Let us examine this carefully. The Latin wordratio, whosemeaning Kant has visibly followed, has never translatedexactly the Greek wordlogos, in the sense ofword; andif the Greek philosophers have substituted sometimes thelogos fornous, or the word for the intelligence, by takingthe effect for the cause, it is wrong when the Romans havetried to imitate them, by usingratio, in place ofmens, orintelligentia. In this they have proved their ignorance andhave disclosed the calamitous ravages that skepticism hadalready made among them. The wordratio springs fromthe rootra orrat, which in all the tongues where it has beenreceived, has carried the idea of aray, a straight line drawnfrom one point toanother.[514]Thus reason, far from beingfree as Kant has pretended, is what is the most constrainedin nature: it is a geometric line, always subject tothe point whence it emanates, and forced to strike the pointtoward which it is directed under penalty of ceasing to beitself; that is to say, of ceasing to be straight. Now, reasonnot being free in its course, is neither good nor bad in itself;it is always analogous to the principle of which it is theinference. Its nature is to go straight; its perfection isnothing else. One goes straight in every way, in everydirection, high, low, to right, to left; one reasons correctlyin truth as in error, in vice as in virtue: all depends uponthe principle from which one sets out, and upon the mannerin which one looks at things. Reason does not give thisprinciple; it is no more master of the end which it goes toattain, than the straight line drawn upon the ground ismaster of the point toward which it tends. This end andthis point are determined beforehand, by the position of thereasoner or by geometry.

Reason exists alike in the three great human modifications,although its principal seat is in the soul, according toPlato.[515]There is a physical reason acting in the instinct, a moralreason acting in the soul, and an intellectual reason actingin the mind. When a hungry dog brings to his master apiece of game without touching it, he obeys an instinctivereason which makes him sacrifice the pleasure of gratifyinghis appetite, to the pain of receiving the blow of a stick.When a man dies at his post instead of abandoning it, hefollows a moral reason which makes him prefer the glory ofdying to the shame of living. When a philosopher admitsthe immortality of the soul, he listens to an intellectualreason which shows him the impossibility of its annihilation.All this, nevertheless, takes place only so far as the dog, theman, and the philosopher admit the real principles; for ifthey admitted false principles, their reasons, althoughequally well deduced, would conduct them to opposed results;and the piece of game would be eaten, the postwould be abandoned, and the immortality of the soulwould be denied.

One ought to feel now the mistake of Kant in all itsextent. This philosopher having confounded one of theprincipal modifications of man, hisintelligence,[516]whoseseat is in the soul, with one of his secondary faculties, hisreason, finds himself, in raising this reason outside of itsplace and giving it a dominance that it has not, oustingentirely the spiritual part; so that meditating constantlyin the median part of his being, which he believed to be thesuperior, and descending, he found matter, understood itperfectly, and missed absolutely the spirit. What he assumedwas, it was nothing else than the understanding, aneuter faculty placed between sense perception which ispurely passive, and the intelligence which is wholly active.He had the weakness to fix his thought here and thenceforthwas lost. Reason which he invoked to teach him to distinguish,in his ideas, the part which is furnished by the spirit,from that which is given by objects, was only able to showhim the straight line that it described in his understanding.This line being buried in matter instead of rising in intelligibleregions, taught him that everything that did notcorrespond to a possible experience could not furnish himthe subject of a positive knowledge, and thus all the greatquestions upon the existence of God, the immortality of thesoul, the origin of the Universe; all that pertains to theosophy,to cosmology; in short, all that which is intelligible, cannottake place in the order of hisunderstanding.[517]Thiscatastrophe, quite inevitable as it was, was none the lesspoignant. It was odd to see a man who seemed to promiseto establish the possibility and the principles of all knowledgeupon an incontestable basis, announce coldly thatGod, the Universe, and the Soul could not be subjects there,and soon discover, pushed by the force of his reasoning,that even the reality of physical subjects by which thesenses are affected is only phenomenal, that one can in noway know what they are, but only what they appear tobe [518];and that even one’s own Self, considered as a subject,is also for one only a phenomenon, an appearance, concerningthe intimate essence of which one can learnnothing.[519]Kant felt indeed the terrible contradiction into which he hadfallen; but instead of retracing courageously his steps, andseeking above reason for the principles of knowledge that itdid not possess, he continued his descending movement whichhe called transcendental, and finally discovered beneaththispure Reason, a certainpractical Reason, to which he confidedthe destinies of the greatest subjects with which mancan be occupied: God, nature, and himself. This practicalreason, which is no other thancommon sense, ought, accordingto him, to bring man to believe what is not given himto know,[520]and to engage him, through the need of his ownfelicity, to follow the paths of virtue, and to admit thesystem of recompense which proceeds from the existence ofGod and the immortality of the soul. Thus, this commonsense, already invoked to aid the existence of the physicalsubjects which Berkeley reduced to nothingness, was called,under another name, to sustain that of the spiritual beingswhich Kant admitted baffling the action of his pure reason;but this faculty, vainly proposed byShaftesbury,[521]byHutcheson,[522]by Reid,[523]by Oswald,[524]by the celebratedPascal himself,[525]to give a support to the first truths, andto furnish the principles of our moral and physical knowledge;this faculty, I say, whose seat is in the instinct, hasbeen easily challenged as incompetent to pronounce upon thesubjects which are outside the jurisdiction of its judgments;for it has been keenly felt that it was abandoning thesesubjects to the prejudices of the vulgar, to their erroneousopinions, to their blind passions; and that practical philosophyor common sense, acting in each man according tothe extent of his views, would only embarrass relative truthsand would create as many principles as individuals. Furthermorewas it not to run counter to common sense itself,to submit intelligence and reason to it? Was it not subvertingNature, and, as it were, causing light to spring upwardfrom below, seeking in the particular, the law whichrules the Universal?

The skeptics who saw all these things triumphed, buttheir triumph only proved their weakness; for Reason, bywhich they demonstrated nothingness, is the sole weapon ofwhich they can make use. This faculty overthrown inKant, leaves them powerless, and delivers them defencelessto the irresistible axioms that the intelligence placesa prioriupon the primordial truths and the fundamental principlesof the Universe, even as the sequel of these Examinationswill demonstrate.

24.Meditate upon my counsels, love them; follow them:
To the divine virtues will they know how to lead thee.

I have spoken at considerable length of the skeptics;but I have believed it necessary in explaining a dogmaticwork, whose(esprit) is wholly opposed to that of skepticism.When Lysis wrote in Greece, there had been no one as yetwho doubted either the existence of the gods, or that ofthe Universe, or made the distinction between good andevil, virtue and vice. Arcesilaus and Pyrrho were not born,and the clouds that they raised afterwards concerning thesegreat subjects of the meditation of the sages were not evensuspected. The minds had inclined rather toward credulitythan toward doubt; toward superstition than towardatheism; it was more necessary to limit their curiosity thanto excite their indifference. At that epoch, the philosophersenveloped the truth with veils, and rendered the avenues ofscience difficult, so that the vulgar might not profane them.They knew what had been too long forgotten: that all kindsof wood are not fitting to make a Mercury. Also theirwriters were obscure and sententious: in order to dishearten,not those who might be able to doubt, but those who werenot in a condition to comprehend.

Today, as the minds are changed, it is of more importanceto attract those who are able to receive the truth, thanto keep at a distance those who are unable to receive it;the latter, separating themselves, are persuaded that theyeither possess it or have no need of it. I have given thehistory of skepticism; I have shown its origin and the sorryeffects of its absolute and disordered influence; not in orderto bring back the skeptics of the profession, but to endeavourto prevent the men who are still drifting in uncertainty frombecoming so. I have essayed to show them by the exampleof one of the greatest reasoners of Germany, by the exampleof Kant, that reason alone, with whatever talents it maybe accompanied, cannot fail to lead them to nothingness.I have made them see that this faculty so lauded is nothingof itself. I am content with the example of the Koenigsbergprofessor; but had I not feared prolixities, I would haveadded the example of Berkeley and that of Spinoza. Thevaried catastrophes of these three savants form a strikingcontrast. Kant, following step by step his pure Reason,comes to see that the knowledge of intelligible things is impossibleand finds matter; Berkeley, led by the same reason,proves that the existence of matter is illusory, and that all isspirit; Spinoza, drawing irresistible arguments from this samefaculty, shows that there exists and can exist only one solesubstance and that therefore spirit and matter are but one.And do not think that, armed with reason alone, you cancombat separately Spinoza, Berkeley, or Kant: their contradictorysystems will clash in vain; they will triumphover you and will push you into the dark and bottomlessabyss of skepticism.

Now, how can this be done? I have told you: it is becauseman is not a simple being. Fix this truth firmly.Man is triple; and it is according as his volitive unity operatesin one or the other of his modifications that he is ledon to see, in such or such a way. Plato has said it, followingPythagoras, and I say it to you not only following Pythagorasand Plato, but following all the sages and all thetheosophists of the world. Plato places in the superiorand spiritual modification, composed of thesame, that isto say of the indivisible substance of the universe, thehegemonicon,[526]or the intellectual assent; in the inferior andmaterial modification, composed of theother or thediverse,that is to say, of the divisible substance, thephysicon,[527]or the physical sense perception; in the median modificationor the soul, properly speaking, composed of essence, thatis to say, of the most subtle parts of matter elaborated bythe spirit, thelogicon,[528]or the moral, logical, or reasonablesentiment. One finds in Plutarch the(résumé) of the doctrineof a philosopher named Sylla, who, admitting, as did Plato,that man is composed of spirit, soul, and body, said that thebody drew its origin from the earth, the soul from the moon,and the spirit from thesun.[529]But without disturbingourselves for the present, with the origin of these threeparts, since assuredly the earth, the moon, and the sun,which this philosopher has assigned them for principles,are things very difficult to understand in themselves, let usbe content with knowing, as I have already said, that thesethree great modifications which form the human Quaternarymanifest themselves by sensation, sentiment, and assent,and develop the principal faculties of the instinct, the understanding,and the intelligence. The instinct is the seatof common sense; the understanding is that of reason;and the intelligence, that of sagacity or wisdom. Mencan never acquire any science, any real knowledge, if theassent is not determined by favour of the intelligencewhich elects the principle and places it with sagacity; forone can really know or understand only that to which theintelligence has given consent. All the results that theunderstanding, deprived of intelligence, can procure bymeans of reason are only opinions, those of these resultswhich are rigorously demonstrated in the manner of thegeometricians are identities; common sense transportedeven into the understanding can give only notions, thecertainty of which, however founded it may be upon experience,can never surpass that of physical sensation, whosetransient and limited authority is of no weight in the assentof intelligible truths.

Let us venture now to divulge a secret of the mysteriesto which Pythagoras made allusion when he said: that notall kinds of wood are fitting to make a Mercury; and notwithstandingthe vulgar prejudice which is opposed tothis truth, let us affirm that animistic equality among menis a chimera. I feel that here I am about to clash greatlywith theological ideas and to put myself in opposition tomany brilliant paradoxes that modern philosophers, morevirtuous than wise, have raised and sustained with moretalent and reason than sagacity; but the force of my subjectdraws me on and since I am explaining the doctrine ofPythagoras, it is indeed necessary that I should say whyLysis, after having examined and commended in detail allthe human virtues in the purgative part of his teachings,begins again a new instruction in the unitive part and promisesto lead one to divine virtues. This important distinctionthat he makes between these two kinds of virtues hasbeen made by Plato, Aristotle, Galen, and many others ofthe philosophers ofantiquity.[530]One of them, Macrobius,to whom we owe the knowledge and explanation of manyof the mystic secrets, which, notwithstanding the extremecare exercised to conceal them, were rumoured outside ofthe sanctuaries, has made a comparison between the degreesof the initiation and those that one admits in the exerciseof the virtues; and he enumeratesfour.[531]This number,which is related to the universal Quaternary, has been themost constantly followed, although it may have varied,however, from three to seven. The numberthree wasregarded by the ancients as the principle of nature, and thenumberseven as itsend.[532]The principal degrees of initiationwere, to the number of three, as the grades of theapprentice, companion, and master are in Free Masonrytoday. From this comes the epithet of Triple, given tothe mysterious Hecate, and even to Mithra, consideredas the emblem of mysticknowledge.[533]Sometimes threesecondary degrees were added to the three principal onesand were terminated by an extraordinary revelation, whichraising the initiate to the rank ofEpopt, or seer(par excellence),gave him the true signification of the degrees through whichhe had alreadypassed [534];showed him natureunveiled,[535]and admitted him to the contemplation of divineknowledge.[536]It was for the Epopt alone that the last veil fell,and the sacred vestment which covered the statue of theGoddess was removed. This manifestation, called Epiphany,shed the most brilliant light upon the darkness whichuntil then had surrounded the initiate. It was prepared,said the historians, by frightful tableaux with alternativesof both terror andhope.[537]The grade of Elect has replacedthat of Epopt among the Free Masons, without in any senseoffering the same results. The forms are indeed nearlypreserved; but the substance has disappeared. The Epoptof Eleusis, Samothrace, or Hierapolis was regarded as theforemost of men, the favourite of the gods, and the possessorof celestial treasures; the sun shone, in his sight, with apurer brightness; and the sublime virtue that he had acquiredin the tests, more and more difficult, and the lessonsmore and more lofty, gave him the faculty of discerninggood and evil, truth and error, and of making a free choicebetween them.[538]

But if the various grades of initiation expressed symbolicallythe different degrees of virtue to which men in generalcan attain, the tests that one was made to pass through ateach new grade, made known in particular, whether theman who presented himself to obtain it, was worthy orunworthy. These tests were at first sufficiently easy; butthey became increasingly difficult to such an extent thatthe life of the new member was frequently in danger. Onewould know in that way to what sort of man this life belonged,and verify by the crucible of terror and of suffering,the temper of the soul and the claim of his right to the truth.It is known that Pythagoras owed to his extreme patienceand to the courage with which he surmounted all theobstacles, his initiation into the Egyptianmysteries.[539]Those who attained as he did the last degree of initiationwere very rare; the greater number went no further thanthe second grade and very few attained the third. Lessonsproportionate to their strength and to those of the facultiesthat had been recognized as dominating in them weregiven; for this is the essential point in this Examination, onelearned in the sanctuaries to divide the mass of humanityinto three great classes, dominated by a fourth more elevated,according to the relations that were established betweenthe faculties of men and the parts of the Universe to whichthey corresponded. In the first were ranged the materialor instinctive men; in the second, the animistic, and in thethird, the intellectual men. Thus all men were by no meansconsidered as equal among them. The pretended equalitywhich was made on the exterior was mere compliance to theerrors of the vulgar, who, having seized the authority inmost of the cities of Greece and Italy, forced the truth toconceal an exposure which would have injured it. TheChristian cult, raised upon the extinction of all enlightenment,nourished in the hearts of slaves and lowly citizens,sanctified in the course of time a precedent favourable toits growth. Those, however, among the Christians whowere called gnostics,[540]on account of the particular knowledgethat they possessed, and especially the Valentinianswho boasted that they had preserved the knowledge of theinitiation, wished to make a public dogma of the secret ofthe mysteries in this respect, pretending that the corruptionof men being only the effect of their ignorance and of theirearthly attachment, it was only necessary in order to savethem, to enlighten them regarding their condition and theiroriginal destination [541];but the orthodox ones, who feltthe danger into which this doctrine was drawing them,condemned the authors as heretics.

This condemnation, which satisfied the pride of thevulgar, did not prevent the small number of sages remainingsilent, faithful to the truth. It is only necessary to openone’s eyes, and detaching them a moment from Judea, tosee that the dogma of inequality among men had served asbasis for the civil and religious laws of all the peoples of theearth, from the orient of Asia to the occidental limits ofAfrica and Europe. Everywhere, four great establisheddivisions under the name of Castes, recalled the four principaldegrees of initiation and retraced upon humanity(en masse), the Universal Quaternary. Egypt had, in thisrespect, in very ancient times, given example toGreece [542];for this Greece, so proud of her liberty, or rather of her turbulentanarchy, had been at first subjected to the commondivision, even as it is seen in Aristotle andStrabo.[543]TheChaldeans were, relative to the peoples ofAssyria,[544]onlywhat the Magi were among thePersians,[545]the Druidsamong the Gauls,[546]and the Brahmans among the Indians.It is quite well known that this last people, the Brahmans,constitute the foremost and highest of the four castes ofwhich the whole nation is composed. The allegorical originthat religion gives to these castes proves clearly the analogyof which I have spoken. The following is what is foundrelative to this in one of the Shastras. “At the first creationby Brahma, the Brahmans sprang from his mouth;the Kshatrys issued from his arms; the Vaisyas from histhighs, and the Soudras from his feet.” It is said in anotherof these books containing the cosmogony of the Banians,that the first man, called Pourou, having had four sonsnamed Brahma, Kshetri, Vaisa, and Souderi, God designatedthem to be chiefs of the four tribes which he himselfinstituted.[547]The sacred books of the Burmans, which appearanterior to those of the other Indian nations, establish thesame division. The Rahans, who fill the sacerdotal officesamong these peoples, teach a doctrine conformable to thatof the mysteries. They say that inequality among men isa necessary consequence of their past virtues or past vices,and that they are born in a nation more or less enlightened,in a caste, in a family, more or less illustrious, according totheir previous conduct.[548]This is very close to the thoughtof Pythagoras; but no one has expressed it with greaterforce and clearness than Kong-Tse. I think I have no needto say that these two sages did not copy each other. Theassent that they gave to the same idea had its source elsewherethan in sterile imitation.

The Chinese people, from time immemorial, have beendivided into four great classes, relative to the rank that menoccupy in society, following the functions that they executetherein,[549]very nearly as do the Indians: but this division,that long custom has rendered purely political, is looked uponvery differently by the philosophers. Man, according tothem, constitutes one of the three productive powers whichcompose the median trinity of the Universe; for they considerthe Universe, or the great All, as the expression of atriple Trinity enveloped and dominated by the primordialUnity: which constitutes for them a decade instead of aQuaternary. This third power calledYin, that is to say,mankind, is subdivided into three principal classes, whichby means of the intermediary classes admitted by Kong-Tse,produces the five classes spoken of by this sage.

The first class, the most numerous, comprises [he said] thatmultitude of men who act only by a sort of imitativeinstinct,doing today what they did yesterday, in order to recommence tomorrowwhat they have done today; and who, incapable of discerningin the distance the real and substantial advantages, theinterest of highest importance, extract easily a little profit,a base interest in the pettiest things, and have enough adroitnessto procure them. These men have anunderstanding as the othersbut this understanding goes no further than thesenses; they seeand hear only through the eyes and the ears of their bodies.Such are the people.

The second class is composed [according to the same sage]of men instructed in the sciences, in letters and in the liberal arts.These men have an object in view in whatever they undertake,and know the different means by which the end can be accomplished;they have not penetrated into the essence of things, butthey know them well enough to speak of them with ease and togive lessons to others; whether they speak or whether they act,they can givereason for what they say or what they do, comparingsubjects among them and drawing just inferences concerningwhat is harmful or profitable: these are the artists, theliterati,who are occupied with things whereinreasoning must enter.This class can have an influence on customs and even on thegovernment.

The third class [continues Kong-Tse] comprises those whoin their speech, in their actions, and in the whole of their conduct,never deviate from what is prescribed byright reason; who dogood without any pretension whatsoever; but only because it isgood; who never vary, and show themselves the same in adversityas in fortune. These men speak when it is necessary to speak, andare silent when it is necessary to be silent. They are not satisfiedwith drawing the sciences from the diverse channels destinedto transmit them, but go back to the source. These are thephilosophers.

Those who never digress from the fixed and immutable rulewhich they have traced out for themselves, who, with utmostexactness and a constancy always the same, fulfill to the veryleast, their obligations, who fight their passions, observe themselvesunceasingly, and prevent vices from developing; thosefinally, who speak no word which is not measured and that maynot be useful for instruction, and who fear neither trouble norlabour in order to makevirtue prosper in themselves and in others,constitute the fourth class, which is that of virtuous men.

The fifth class, finally [adds Kong-Tse], which is the loftiestand sublimest, comprises the extraordinary men, who unite intheir persons the qualities of the spirit and heart, perfected by theblessed habit of fulfilling voluntarily and joyfully, what natureand morals impose jointly upon reasonable beings living insociety. Imperturbable in their mode of life, like unto the sunand the moon, the heavens and the earth, they never cease theirbeneficent operations; they act byintelligence and asspirits seewithout being seen. This class, very few in number, can be calledthat of the Perfect ones, theSaints.[550]

I have transcribed what has just been read withoutchanging a single word. If the reader has given to thisextract the attention that it merits, he will have seen thedoctrine of Pythagoras such as I have revealed and theimportant distinction between Instinct, Reason, and Intelligencesuch as I have established; he will have seen thedogma of the mysteries concerning the animistic inequalityof men, of which I have spoken, and will have easily recognized,in the right reason which constitutes the third classaccording to the Chinese theosophist, the pure reason whichhas directed the German philosopher in the establishmentof critical philosophy. This right reason, being quite nearto human virtues, is still very far from Wisdom which aloneleads to Truth. Nevertheless it can reach there, for nothingis impossible for the Will of man, even as I have quite forciblystated [551];but it would be necessary for that, to makeacquisition of the divine virtues, and in the same mannerthat one is raised from instinct to understanding by purification,to pass from understanding to intelligence by perfection.Lysis offers the means: it is by knowledge ofoneself that he promises to lead one to this desired end;he assures it, he invokes the name of Pythagoras himself:

25.I swear it by the one who in our hearts engraved
The sacred Tetrad, symbol immense and pure,
Source of Nature and model of the Gods.

Drawn on by my subject, I have forgotten to say that,according to Porphyry, there is lacking in the Golden Versesas given by Hierocles, two lines which ought to be placedimmediately before those which open the unitive part ofthe doctrine of Pythagoras calledperfection; theseare [552]:

Πρῶτα μὲν ἐξ ὕπνοιο μελίφρονος ἐξ ὑπανίτας,

Εὖ μάλα ποιπνεύειν ὅσ’ ἐν ἤματι ἔργα τελέσσεις.

On the moment of awakening, consider calmly

What are thy duties, and what thou shouldst accomplish.

These lines, which express the general outline of this lastpart, are remarkable, and one cannot conceive how Hieroclescould have overlooked or neglected them. Although,it is true, they add nothing in the literal sense, they saymuch, however, in the figurative sense; they serve as proofof the division of this poem, which Hierocles himself hasadopted without explanation. Lysis indicates quite stronglythat he is about to pass on to a new teaching: he calls theattention of the disciple of Pythagoras to the new careerwhich is opened before him, and to the means of traversingit and of attaining to the divine virtues which must crownit. This means is the knowledge of oneself, as I have said.This knowledge, so commended by the ancient sages, soexalted by them, which must open the avenues of all theothers and deliver to them the key of the mysteries of natureand the doors of the Universe; this knowledge, I say, couldnot be exposed unveiled at the epoch when Pythagoraslived, on account of the secrets that it would of necessitybetray. Likewise this philosopher had the habit of proclaimingit under the emblem of the sacred Tetrad or of theQuaternary. This is why Lysis, in invoking the name ofhis master, designates it on this occasion with the moststriking characteristic of his doctrine. “I swear,” he said,“by the one who has revealed to our soul the knowledge ofthe Tetrad, that source of eternal Nature”: that is to say,I swear by the one who, teaching our soul to know itself,has put it in condition to know all nature of which it is theabridged image.

In many of my preceding Examinations I have alreadyexplained what should be understood by this celebratedTetrad, and here would perhaps be the time to reveal itsconstitutive principles; but this revelation would lead metoo far. It would be necessary in order to do this, to enterinto details of the arithmological doctrine of Pythagoraswhich, lacking preliminary data, would become fatiguingand unintelligible. The language of Numbers of whichthis philosopher made use, following the example of theancient sages, seems today entirely lost. The fragmentswhich have come down to us serve rather to prove its existencethan to give any light upon its elements; for thosewho have composed these fragments wrote in a languagethat they supposed understood, in the same manner as ourmodern writers when they employ algebraic terms. It wouldbe ridiculous if one wished before having acquired anynotion concerning the value and use of the algebraic signs,to explain a problem contained in these signs. This is,however, what has often been done relative to the languageof Numbers. One has pretended, not only to explain itbefore having learned it, but even to write of it, and hasby so doing rendered it the most lamentable thing in theworld. The savants seeing it thus travestied have justlyscorned it; as their contempt was not unreasonable theyhave made it reflect, by the same language upon the ancientswho have employed it. They have acted in this as in manyother things; they themselves creating the stupidity ofancient sciences and saying afterwards: antiquity was stupid.

One day I shall try, if I find the time and the necessaryfacilities, to give the true elements of the arithmologicalscience of Pythagoras and I will show that this science wasfor intelligible things what algebra has become among usfor physical things; but I shall only do so after having revealedwhat the true principles of music are; for otherwiseI should run the risk of not being understood.

Without perplexing ourselves, therefore, with the constitutiveprinciples of the Pythagorean Quaternary, let uscontent ourselves with knowing that it was the generalemblem of anything moving by itself and manifesting by itsfacultative modifications; for according to Pythagoras, 1and 2 represent the hidden principles of things; 3, theirfaculties, and 4, their proper essence. These four numberswhich, united by addition produce the number 10, constitutedthe Being, as much universal as particular; so thatthe Quaternary, which is as its virtue, could become theemblem of all beings, since there is none which may notrecognize the principles, and which does not manifest itselfby faculties more or less perfect, and which may not enjoyan existence universal or relative; but the being to whichPythagoras applied it most commonly was Man. Man, asI have said, manifests himself as does the Universe, underthe three principal modifications of body, soul, and spirit.The unknown principles of this first Ternary are what Platocalls thesame, and theother, theindivisible and thedivisible.The indivisible principle gives the spirit; the divisible thebody; and the soul has birth from this last principle elaboratedby the first.[553]Such was the doctrine of Pythagoraswhich was borrowed by Plato. It had been that of theEgyptians, as can be seen in the works which remain to usunder the name of Hermes. Synesius, who had been initiatedinto their mysteries, said particularly, that humansouls emanated from two sources: the one luminous, whichflows from heaven on high; the other tenebrous, whichsprings from the earth in the abysmal depths of which itfinds its origin.[554]The early Christians, faithful to theosophicaltradition, followed the same teaching; they establisheda great difference between the spirit and the soul.They considered the soul as an issue of the material principle,and in consequence being neither enlightened norvirtuous in itself. The spirit, said Basil, is a gift of God:it is the soul of the soul, as it were; it is united to the soul;it enlightens it, it rescues it from earth and raises it toheaven.[555]Beausobre, who relates these words, observesthat this sentiment was common to several Fathers of theprimitive church, particularly toTatian.[556]

I have spoken often of this first Ternary, and even ofthe triple faculties which are attached to each of its modifications;but as I have done many times, I believe it usefulto present here the(ensemble), so as to have the opportunityof uniting, under the same viewpoint, the volitive unity,from which results the human Quaternary, in general, andin the particular being, which is man.

The three faculties which, as I have said, distinguisheach of the three human modifications are: sense perceptionfor the body, sentiment for the soul, and assent for the spirit.These three faculties develop instinct, understanding, andintelligence, which produce by a common reaction, commonsense, reason, and sagacity.

Instinct, placed at the lowest degree of the ontologicalhierarchy, is absolutely passive; intelligence, raised to thesummit, is entirely active, and understanding placed inthe centre, is neuter. Sense perception perceives the sensations,sentiment conceives the ideas, assent elects thethoughts; perception, conception, election are modes ofacting, of the instinct, the understanding, and the intelligence.The understanding is the seat of all the passionsthat the instinct feeds continually, excites, and tends tomake unruly; and that the intelligence purifies, tempers,and seeks always to put in harmony. The instinct, reactedupon by the understanding, becomes common sense: itperceives notions more or less clearly, following more orless, the influence that it accords to the understanding.The understanding, reacted upon by the intelligence, becomesreason: it conceives of opinions so much the morejust, as its passions are the more calm. Reason cannot byits own movement attain to wisdom and find truth, becausebeing placed in the middle of a sphere and forced from there,it describes, from the centre to the circumference, a ray alwaysstraight and subordinate to the point of departure; it hasagainst it infinity, that is to say, that truth being one, andresiding in a single point of the circumference, it cannot bethe subject of reason, only as far as it is known beforehand,and as reason is placed in the direction convenient for itsencounter. Intelligence, which can only put reason inthis direction by the assent that it gives at the point ofdeparture, would never know this point only by wisdomwhich is the fruit of inspiration: now, inspiration is themode of acting of the will, which joining itself to the tripleTernary, as I have just described, constitutes the humanontological Quaternary. It is the will which envelops theprimordial Ternary in its unity, and which determines theaction of each of its faculties according to its own modewithout the will it would have no existence. The threefaculties by which the volitive unity is manifested in thetriple Ternary, are memory, judgment, and imagination.These three faculties, acting in a homogeneous unity, haveneither height nor depth and do not affect one of the modificationsof the being, any more than another; they are allwherever the will is, and the will operates freely in the intelligenceor in the understanding; in the understanding or inthe instinct: where it wills to be there it is; its facultiesfollow it everywhere. I say that it is wherever it wills tobe when the being is wholly developed; for following thecourse of Nature, it is first in the instinct and only passesinto the understanding and into the intelligence successivelyand in proportion as the animistic and spiritual facultiesare developed. But in order that this development maytake place, the will must determine it; for without the willthere is no movement. Be assured of this. Without theoperation of the will, the soul is inert and the spirit sterile.This is the origin of that inequality among men of whichI have spoken. When the will does not disengage itselffrom matter, it constitutes instinctive men; when it is concentratedin the understanding, it produces animistic men;when it acts in the spirit, it creates intellectual men. Itsperfect harmony in the primordial Ternary, and its actionmore or less energetic in the uniformity of their faculties,equally developed, constitute the extraordinary men endowedwith sublime genius; but the men of this fourth classwhich represents the autopsy of themysteries,[557]are extremelyrare. Often it suffices for a powerful will, acting eitherin the understanding or in the intelligence and concentratingwholly there, to astonish men by the strength of reasoningand outbursts of wisdom, which draws the name of geniuswithout being wholly merited. Recently there has beenseen in Germany the most extraordinary reasoning, inKant, failing in its aim through lack of intelligence; one hasseen in the same country the most exalted intelligence, inBoehme, giving way for want of reason. There have been inall times and among all nations men similar to Boehme andto Kant. These men have erred through not knowingthemselves; they have erred, through a lack of harmonythat they might have been able to acquire, if they hadtaken the time to perfect themselves; they have erred, buttheir very error attests the force of their will. A weak will,operating either in the understanding or in the intelligence,makes only sensible men and men of intellect. This samewill acting in the instinct produces artful men; and if it isstrong and violently concentrated through its original attractionin this corporal faculty, it constitutes men dangerousto society, miscreants, and treacherous brigands.

After having applied the Pythagorean Quaternary toMan, and having shown the intimate composition of thisBeing, image of the Universe, according to the doctrine ofthe ancients, I ought perhaps to use all the means in mypower, in order to demonstrate with what facility the physicaland metaphysical phenomena which result from theircombined action can be deduced; but such an undertakingwould necessarily draw me into details foreign to theseexaminations. I must again put off this point as I have putoff many others; I will take them up in another work, if thesavants and the thinkers to whom I address myself approvethe motive which has put the pen in my hand.

26.But before all, thy soul to its faithful duty,
Invoke these Gods with fervour, they whose aid,
Thy work begun, alone can terminate.

All the cults established upon the face of the earth havemade a religious duty of prayer. This alone would prove,if it were necessary, what I have advanced concerning thetheosophical dogma of the volitive liberty of man; for if manwere not free in his actions, and if an irresistible fatalityled him on to misfortune and to crime, what use would beinvoking the gods, imploring their assistance, begging themto turn aside from him the evils which must inevitablyoverwhelm him? If, as Epicurus taught, an impenetrablebarrier separated gods and men; if these gods, absorbed intheir beatitude and their impassive immortality, were suchstrangers to the evils of humanity that they neither troubledto alleviate them nor to prevent them, for what purposethen the incense burning at the foot of theiraltars?[558]

It was, he said, on account of the excellence of theirnature that he honoured them thus, and not from anymotive of hope or fear, not expecting any good from themand not dreading anyevil.[559]What miserable sophism!How could Epicurus say such a thing before having explainedclearly and without amphibology, what the origin of goodand evil is, so as to prove that the gods indeed do not cooperateeither for the augmentation of the one, or thediminution of the other? But Epicurus had never dreamedof giving this explanation. However little he might haveconsidered it, he would have seen that in whatever fashionhe had given it, it would have overthrown the doctrine ofatoms; for a sole principle, whatever it may be, cannotproduce at the same time good and evil. Nevertheless,if he has not explained this origin, and if he has not shownin a peremptory way that we are in a sphere where absoluteevil reigns, and that consequently we can have no sort ofcommunication with that wherein good resides, it will remainalways evident that if we are not in such a sphere,and if we possess a portion of good, this good must come tous from the sphere wherein absolute good has its source.Now, this sphere is precisely that in which Epicurus placesthe gods.[560]But, perhaps, a defender of Epicurus willsay, the good that we possess comes to us only once fromthe divine sphere and thenceforth it comes to us no more.This is contrary to the most intimate and most generalnotion that we have of the Divinity, to that of its immutabilityupon which Epicurus himself leans most, and from whichit results that the gods could never be what they havebeen, nor do what they have done.

In one word, just as well as in a thousand, any maker ofa system is obliged to do one of two things, either to declarehimself what the origin is of good and evil, or to admita priori the theosophical dogma of the liberty of man. Epicurusknew this, and although this dogma might ruin hissystem completely, he preferred to admit it than exposehimself to give an explanation beyond his capability andbeyond that of all men. But if man is free, he can be counselled;if he can be counselled, it is evident that he can,even that he must, demand counsel. This is the rationalprinciple of prayer. Now, common sense is the asking forcounsel wiser than its own, and sagacity shows in the Godsthe source of wisdom.

Epicurus, nevertheless, denied the intervention of divineProvidence and pretended that the Gods, absorbed in theirsupreme felicity, do not mingle in anyaffair.[561]A singlequestion, simple and naïve, would overthrow this assertiondestitute of proofs, and besides, inconsistent with the conductof Greek philosophy; but I prefer to leave this question toBayle, who has expended much logic in sustaining this point.This French philosopher, under pretext of making Epicurusdispute with a polytheistic priest, advances against Providencean argument which he believes irresistible, and whichis, indeed, one of the most subtle that one could possibly advance.“Are the gods satisfied with their administration orare they dissatisfied? Be mindful,” he says, “of my dilemma:if they are satisfied with what comes to pass under theirprovidence, they are pleased with evil; if they are dissatisfied,they are unhappy.”[562]The manner in which Bayle throwshimself into the midst of the question, without examiningthe principles of it, denounces him as a skeptic; it is necessarytherefore to use against him the weapons that Ihave given against skepticism; that is, to bring him backabruptly to the principles, by interrogating him before replyingto him. It is necessary to ask him, if he admits a differencebetween that which is and that which is not? He isforced to admit it, as I have said; for in whatever regionof himself his will takes refuge, whether it exercises itsjudgment in the instinct, in the understanding or in theintelligence, you will pursue it in him opposing, in the firstcase, the axiom of common sense: nothing is made fromnothing; in the second, that of reason: that which is, is;in the last, that of sagacity: everything has its oppositeand can have only one. Nothing is made from nothingtherefore that which is not, can never produce that which is.That which is, is; therefore, that which is not, is not thatwhich is. Everything has its opposite and can have onlyone; therefore the absolute opposite of that which is, isthat which is not. If the skeptic refuses himself the evidenceof common sense, of reason and of sagacity united, helies to his conscience, or he is mad and then one must leavehim.

The difference admitted between that which is and thatwhich is not, proceeds therefore against Bayle, or againstthose who resemble him; ask them if man is a prey to absoluteevil, whether physical or moral? They will reply toyou, no; for they will feel that if they should respond otherwise,you would prove to them that not having the facultyof making a difference between good and evil, nor of comparingthem together, they could never draw from thiscomparison their strongest argument against Providence.They will, therefore, reply that man is not a prey to absoluteevil, but to a very great relative evil; as great as they wish.You, nevertheless continue thus: if man is not a prey toabsolute evil, he might be, since it would suffice for this totake away the sum of good which mitigates the evil, andwhich the difference, previously established between thatwhich is and that which is not, teaches to distinguish. Now,this sum of good, whence comes it? Who dispenses it?Who? If the skeptics are silent, affirm for them that itemanates from the gods themselves and that Providenceis the dispenser. Then reply to their dilemma, and saythat the gods are content with their administration andthat they have reason to be, since by it they procure asum of good increasing more and more, for the beings whichwithout Providence would never know it; and that theirProvidence, which has mitigated evil from its origin, mitigatesit still and will mitigate it to its end; and if the astonishedskeptics object that Providence takes a great deal oftime to make what should be made in an instant, reply tothem that it is not a question of knowing how nor why itmakes things, but only that it makes them; which is provedby the overthrow of their dilemma; and which, after all,is saying with more reason in this circumstance than in anyother, that time has nothing to do with the affair, since itis nothing to Providence, although for us it may be much.

And if, continuing to draw inferences from your reasoning,the skeptics say to you that, according to the continualeffusion of good which you establish, the sum ought to bedaily augmented, whilst that of evil, diminishing in thesame proportion, ought at last to disappear wholly, whichthey cannot believe; reply, that the inferences of a reasoningwhich confounds theirs are at their disposal; that theycan deduce from them as much as they wish; without engagingyou, for that matter, to discuss the extent of theirview, either in the past, or in the future, because each onehas his own; that, besides, you owe it to truth to teach themthat the dogma, by means of which you have ruined thelaborious structure of their logic, is no other than a theosophicaltradition, universally received from one end of theearth to the other, as it is easy to prove to them.

Open the sacred books of the Chinese, the Burmans,Indians, and Persians, you will find there the unequivocaltraces of this dogma. Here, it is Providence representedunder the traits of a celestial virgin, who, sent by the SupremeBeing, furnished arms to combat and to subjugate thegenius of evil, and to bring to perfection everything that ithad corrupted.[563]There, it is the Universe itself and theWorlds which compose it, which are signalized as the instrumentemployed by this same Providence to attain thisend.[564]Such was the secret doctrine of themysteries.[565]Good andEvil were represented in the sanctuaries under the emblemsof light and darkness: the formidable spectacle of the combatbetween these two opposed principles was given thereto the initiate; and after many scenes of terror, the mostobscure night was insensibly succeeded by the purest andmost brilliant day.[566]It was exactly this that Zoroasterhad publicly taught.

Ormuzd [said this theosophist] knew by his sovereign sciencethat at first he could in no way influence Ahriman; but thatafterwards he united with him and that at last he finished bysubjugating him and changing him to such a degree that theUniverse existed without evil for a duration ofcenturies.[567]When the end of the world comes [he said in another place]the wickedest of the infernal spirits will be pure, excellent,celestial: yes [he adds], he will become celestial, this liar, this evildoer; he will become holy, celestial, excellent, this cruel one:vice itself, breathing only virtue, will make long offerings ofpraise to Ormuzd before all theworld.[568]

These words are the more remarkable when one considersthat the dogma relating to the downfall of the rebellious angelhas passed from the cosmogony of the Parsees into that ofthe Hebrews, and that it is upon this dogma alone, imperfectlyinterpreted by the vulgar, that the contradictorydoctrine of the eternity of evil and the torments that followit, have been founded. This doctrine, but little understood,has been sharplyattacked.[569]Simon, very inappropriatelysurnamed theMagician, forced St. Peter himself,disputing with him, to acknowledge that the Hebraic writingshad said nothing positive on thissubject.[570]This iscertain. These writings, interpreted as they have been bythe Hellenic Jews and given out under the name ofVersionof the Septuagint, shed no light upon this important point;but it is well to know that these interpreters have designedlyconcealed this light, in order not to divulge the meaning oftheir sacred book. If one understood thoroughly the languageof Moses, one would see that, far from setting asidethe theosophical traditions which he had received in Egypt,this theocratic legislator remained constantly faithful tothem. The passage in his Sepher where he speaks of theannihilation of Evil, in the meaning of Zoroaster, is in chapteriii., v. 15, of the part vulgarly calledGenesis, as I hope oneday to show.[571]But without entering at this time, intothe discussion where the real translation of this passagewould lead me, let it suffice to say that the early Christianswere very far from admitting the eternity of evil; for withoutspeaking of Manes and his numerous followers whoshared the opinion ofZoroaster,[572]those who are versedin these sorts of matters know that Origen taught thattorments will not be eternal, and that demons, instructedby chastisement, will be converted at last and will obtaintheir pardon.[573]He was followed in this by a great numberof learned men, by the evidence of Beausobre who quotes,on this subject, the example of a philosopher of Edessa,who maintained that after the consummation of the ages, allcreatures would become consubstantial withGod.[574]

One thing worthy of notice is that Zoroaster, who hasmade prayer one of the principal dogmas of his religion, hasbeen imitated in this by Mohammed, who, unknowingly,perhaps, has borrowed a great number of things from thisancient legislator of the Parsees. It is presumable that thefollowers of Manes, having retired to Arabia, were responsiblefor these borrowings, by the opinions that they circulatedthere. But, it must be frankly stated, this dogma,quite in its place in theZend-Avesta, does not appear soconsistent in theKoran, for, of what use is it in a cult wherethe predestination of men, necessitated by the Prescientand All-Powerful Divine, delivers irresistibly the greatestpart of them to an eternal damnation, on account of theoriginal stain imprinted upon mankind by the sin of thefirst man? One cannot be prevented, in reflecting upon thismanifest contradiction, from believing that the theosophicaltradition pertaining to the free will of man, and the influencingaction of Providence operating the progressive augmentationof good and the gradual diminution of evil,announced openly by Zoroaster, must have acted secretlyin the mind of the theocratic legislator of Arabia. If ithad not been thus, the prayers that he ordered as one of thefirst and most essential duties of the religion, would havebeen without object.

According to the doctrine of Pythagoras revealed byHierocles, two things agree in the efficacy of prayer: thevoluntary movement of our soul, and aid from heaven.The first of these things is that which seeks goodness; andthe other that which shows it. Prayer is a medium betweenour quest and the celestial gift. One seeks, one prays invain, if one adds not prayer to research and research toprayer. Virtue is an emanation from God; it is like areflected image of the Divinity, the resemblance of whichalone constitutes the good and the beautiful. The soulwhich is attached to this admirable type of all perfectionis aroused to prayer by its inclination to virtue, and it augmentsthis inclination by the effusion of the goodness whichit receives by means of prayer; so that it does preciselywhat it demands and demands what itdoes.[575]Socrateswas not far from the doctrine of Pythagoras in this respect;he added only, that prayer exacted much precautionand prudence, lest, without perceiving it, one demand ofGod great evils, in thinking to ask great blessings.

The sage [he said] knows what he ought to say or do; thefool is ignorant of it; the one implores in prayer, what can bereally useful to him; the other desires often things which, beinggranted him, become for him the source of greatest misfortunes.The prudent man [he adds], however little he may doubt himself,ought to resign himself to Providence who knows better than he,the consequences that things must have.

This is why Socrates cited as a model of sense and reasonthis prayer of an ancient poet:

Grant us good whether prayed for or unsought by us;

But that which we ask amiss, do thouavert.[576]

The prayer was, as I have said, one of the principaldogmas of the religion ofZoroaster [577]:the Persians alsohad the greatest confidence therein. Like the Chaldeans,they founded all magical power upon its efficacy. Theystill possess today certain kinds of prayers for conjuringmaladies and driving away demons. These prayers, whichthey nametavids, are written upon strips of paper and carriedafter the manner oftalismans.[578]It is quite well-knownthat the modern Jews use them in the same way.In this they imitate, as in innumerable other things, theancient Egyptians whose secret doctrine Moses has transmittedto them.[579]The early Christians were inclined totheosophical ideas on this subject. Origen explains itclearly in speaking of the virtue attached to certain namesinvoked by the Egyptian sages and the most enlightenedof the magians of Persia.[580]Synesius, the famous Bishopof Ptolemaïs, initiated into the mysteries, declares that thescience, by means of which one linked the intelligible essencesto sentient forms, by the invocation of spirits, wasneither vain nor criminal, but on the contrary quite innocentand founded upon the nature ofthings.[581]Pythagoraswas accused of magic. Ignorance and weakness of mindhave always charged science with this banalaccusation.[582]This philosopher, rightly placed in the rank of the ablestphysicians ofGreece,[583]was, according to his most devoteddisciples, neither of the number of the gods, nor even ofthose of the divine heroes; he was a man whom virtue andwisdom had adorned with a likeness to the gods, by thecomplete purifying of his understanding which had beeneffected through contemplation andprayer.[584]This is whatLysis expressed by the following lines:

27.Instructed by them, naught shall then deceive thee;
Of diverse beings thou shalt sound the essence;
And thou shalt know the principle and end of All.

That is to say, that the true disciple of Pythagoras,placed(en rapport) with the gods through contemplation,arrived at the highest degree of perfection, called in themysteries, autopsy; saw fall before him the false veil whichuntil then had hidden Truth, and contemplated Nature inits remotest sources. It is necessary, in order to attain tothis sublime degree, that the intelligence, penetrated bythe divine ray of inspiration, should fill the understandingwith a light intense enough to dissipate all the illusions ofthe senses, to exalt the soul and release it wholly from thingsmaterial. Thus it was explained by Socrates andPlato.[585]These philosophers and their numerous disciples put no limitto the advantages of autopsy, or theophany, as they sometimesnamed this highest degree of the telestic science. Theybelieved that the contemplation of God could be carried sofar during this same life, that the soul became not onlyunited to this Being of beings, but that it was mingled andblended with it. Plotinus boasted having experienced thejoy of this beatific vision four times, according to Porphyry,who himself claimed to have been honoured with it at theage of sixty-eight.[586]The great aim of the mysteries wasto teach the initiates the possibility of this union of man withGod, and to indicate to them the means. All initiations, allmythological doctrines, tended only to alleviate the soul ofthe weight of material things, to purify it, so that, desirousof spiritual welfare, and being projected beyond the circleof generations, it could rise to the source of itsexistence.[587]If one examines carefully the different cults which stilldominate upon earth, one will see that they have not beenanimated by any other spirit. The knowledge of the Beingof beings has been offered everywhere as the aim of wisdom;its similitude, as the crown of perfection; and its enjoyment,as the object of all desires and the goal of all efforts. Theenumeration of its infinite faculties has varied; but when onehas dared fix one’s attention upon the unity of its essence,one has always defined it as has Pythagoras: the principleand the end of all things.

The Spirit whence proceed the created beings [say theBrahmans], by which they live after being emanated from it,toward which they aspire, and in which they are finally absorbed,this Spirit is that, to the knowledge of which thou shouldstaspire, the Great Being.[588]—The Universe is one of itsforms.[589]—Itis the Being of beings: without form, without quality, withoutpassion; immense, incomprehensible, infinite, indivisible,incorporal, irresistible: no intelligence can conceive of its operationsand its will suffices to move allintelligences.[590]—It is theTruth and the Science which neverperish.[591]—Its wisdom, itspower, and its plan, are as an immense and limitless sea which nobeing is in condition either to traverse or to fathom. Thereis no other God than it. The Universe is filled with its immensity.It is the principle of all things without havingprinciples.[592]God is one,[593]eternal, like unto a perfect sphere which hasneither beginning nor end. He rules and governs all that existsby a general providence, resultant of fixed and determinedprinciples. Man ought not to seek to penetrate the nature orthe essence of this Ineffable Being: such a research is vain andcriminal.—

Thus do the Hindu sages express themselves in sundryplaces. They commend aspiring to the knowledge of theBeing of beings, making oneself worthy to be absorbed inits bosom; and forbid, at the same time, seeking to penetrateits nature. I have already said that such was the doctrineof the mysteries. I am about to add an important reflectionin order to cast some light upon a doctrine which, atfirst glance, appears contradictory.

Man, who aspires by the inner movement of his will, toattain to the highest degree of human perfection, and who,by the purification of his understanding, and the acquisitionof celestial virtues, puts himself in a state to receive thetruth, must observe that the higher he rises in the intelligiblesphere, the nearer he approaches to the unfathomable Beingwhose contemplation must make his happiness, the less hecan communicate the knowledge of it to others; for truth,coming to him under intelligible forms more and more universalized,can never be contained in the rational or sentientforms that he might give it. Here is the point where manymystic contemplators have gone astray. As they had neveradequately fathomed the triple modification of their being,and as they had not known the intimate composition of thehuman Quaternary, they were ignorant of the manner inwhich the transformation of ideas was made, as much inthe ascendant progression as in the descendant progression;so that, confusing continually understanding and intelligence,and making no difference between the products of their willaccording as it acted in one or the other of its modifications,they often showed the opposite of what they intended toshow; and instead of the seers that they might, perhaps,have been, they became visionaries. I could give a greatmany examples of these aberrations; but I will limit myselfto a single one, because the man who furnishes it for me,immeasurably great on the side of intelligence, lacked understandingand felt keenly himself, the weakness of his reason.This man, whose audacious gaze has penetrated as far as thedivine sanctuary, is a German shoemaker of obscure birth,called Jacob Boehme. The rusticity of his mind, the roughnessof his character, and more than all that, the force andthe number of his prejudices, render his works almost unintelligibleand therefore repel the savants. But when onehas the patience and talent necessary to separate the puregold from its dross and from its alloy, one can find therethings which are nowhere else. These things, which presentthemselves nearly always under the oddest and most absurdforms, have taken them by passing from his intelligence tohis instinct, without his reason having had the force to opposeitself. This is how he artlessly expresses this transformationof ideas: “Now that I have raised myself so high, I dare notlook back for fear that giddiness may seize me … for aslong as I ascend, I am convinced of my impulse; but it is notthe same when I turn my head and when I wish to descend;then I am troubled, I am bewildered, it seems to me that Ishall fall.”[594]And in truth he fell so rapidly that he didnot perceive, either the terrible disparity between his ideasand his expressions, nor the manifest contradictions intowhich his prejudices had drawn him.

These grave disadvantages, which do not strike the vulgar,were perfectly understood and appreciated by the sages.The institutors of the mysteries were not ignorant of themand it is for this that they had imposed the most absolutesilence upon the initiates and particularly upon the epopts,to whom they gave their highest teachings. They madethem feel readily that intelligible things can only becomesentient by being transformed, and that this transformationrequires a talent and an authority even, which cannot bethe appanage of all men.

I am now at the close of my reflection. The diverse cultsestablished upon earth are but the transformations of ideas;that is to say, particular forms of religion, by means of whicha theocratic legislator or theosophic sage renders sentientthat which is intelligible, and puts within reach of all menwhat, without these forms, would have been only withinreach of a very small number; now, these transformationscan only be effected in three ways, according to the threefaculties of the human Ternary; the fourth, which concernsits Quaternary or its relative unity, being impossible. I begthe reader to recall what I have said, touching the intimatecomposition and movement of this Quaternary, and grantme a little attention.

The aim of all the cults being to conduct to the knowledgeof the Divinity, they differ only by the route that they travelin its attainment, and this route depends always upon themanner in which the Divinity has been considered by thefounder of the cult. If this founder has considered it in hisintelligence, he has seen the Divinity in its universal modifications,and, therefore, triple, as the Universe; if he hasconsidered it in his understanding, he has seen it in itscreative principles, and, therefore, double as Nature; if hehas considered it in his instinct, he has seen it in its facultiesand its attributes, and, therefore, infinite, as Matter; if he hasconsidered it, finally, in its proper volitive unity, acting atonce in its three modifications, he has seen this same Divinityaccording to the force and movement of his thought,either in its absolute essence or in its universal essence; thatis, One in its cause, or One in its effects. Examine closelywhat I have said and see if there exists a single cult upon theface of the earth that you may not connect with one of thekinds whose origin I have indicated.

I have said that the Divinity, considered in the humanintelligence, is shown under the emblem of the universalTernary; hence all the cults which are dominated by threeprincipal gods as inIndia,[595]in Greece and inItaly,[596]threeprincipal modifications in the same God, as inChina,[597]inJapan, in Tibet and among the considerable followers ofFo-Hi or Buddha.[598]This cult, which has been called thatof theTritheists, is one of the most widespread on earth,and one which has mingled most easily with the others. Itpleases the imagination and gives to wisdom great power torise to intelligible truths.

I have said that the Divinity, considered in the humanunderstanding, is manifest under the emblem of two naturalprinciples: hence, all the cults wherein two opposed beingsappear, as in the cult of Zoroaster. This cult, which israrely encountered as pure as among the ancient Persians,or among the followers of Manes, mingles readily withtritheism and even polytheism: it was quite recognizablein Egypt and among the Scandinavians, and much moreinvolved among the Indians, Greeks, and Latins. This cultcould be considered as a naturalDiarchy, and those whofollow it,Diarchists. Judgment and reason conform verywell in it; one also sees ordinarily, profound reasoners andskeptics, inclining therenolensvolens.[599]Its abuse leads toatheism; but it offers great means, when one knows how tomake good use of it, to penetrate the essence of things andsucceed to the explanation of natural phenomena.

Again I say, that the Divinity considered in the instinctis presented under the emblem of material infinity: hence,all cults where, by a contrary movement, the intelligiblebecomes sentient and the sentient intelligible; as when theattributes and faculties of the Divinity are particularizedand personified, and as the agents of Nature, the parts of theUniverse and the individual beings themselves, are deified.This cult, to which I have given the name ofPolytheism, iseverywhere, under different forms and under different names,the portion of the vulgar. More or less apparent it insinuatesitself in the midst of the other two, multiplies the images ofthe intellectual modifications and the natural principles, andwhatever attentions the theosophists bring to forestall itsinvasion, end by stifling utterly the spirit of it beneath thematerial covering which envelops them. This cult, the cradleof all religions, with which the other two can never entirelydispense, which nourishes and lives in their life, is also thetomb. It pleases singularly that faculty of man which isdeveloped first, sense perception; it aids the development ofinstinct and can, by the sole medium of common sense, leadto the knowledge of the natural principles. Its abuse precipitatespeoples into idolatry and superstition; its good usearouses the talents and gives birth to heroic virtues. Onebecomes artist or hero through the exaltation of Polytheism;savant or philosopher through that of Diarchy; and sage ortheosophist through that of Tritheism. These three cults,whether pure or variously mixed, are the only ones in whichtransformation may be possible; that is to say, which may beclothed in ostensible forms and enclosed in any sort of ritual.The fourth cult, which is founded upon the absolute unityof God, is not transformable. This is the reason.

The Divinity considered in the volitive unity of man,acting at the same time in its principal faculties, is manifestedfinally, in its absolute essence, or in its universalessence; One in its cause, or One in its effects: thence, notonly all public cults, but all secret mysteries, all doctrinesmystic and contemplative; for how can that which has nolikeness to anything be represented? How render sentientthat which is beyond all intelligence? What expressionswill be consistent with that which is inexpressible, with thatwhich is more ineffable than silence itself? What templeswill one raise to that which is incomprehensible, inaccessible,unfathomable? The theosophists and sages have realizedthese difficulties; they have seen that it was necessary tosuppress all discourse, to set aside all simulacra: to renounceall enclosures, to annihilate finally all sentient objectsor to be exposed to give false ideas of the absolute essenceof a Being that neither time nor space can contain. Manyhave dared the undertaking. One knows, in delving intoages long since past, that the ancient Magians of Persiaerected no temple and set up nostatue.[600]The Druidsacted in the same manner.[601]The former invoked thePrinciple of all things upon the summits of mountains; thelatter, in the depths of the forests. Both deemed it unworthyof the divine Majesty to enclose it within precinctsand to represent it by a materialimage.[602]It even appearsthat the early Romans shared thisopinion.[603]But thiscult, entirely intellectual and destitute of forms, could notsubsist long. Perceptible objects were needed by the people,on which they might place their ideas. These objects, evenin spite of the legislator who sought to proscribe them,insinuated themselves.[604]Images, statues, temples weremultiplied notwithstanding the laws which prohibited them.At that time if the cult did not undergo a salutary reform, itwas changed, either into a gross anthropomorphism, or intoan absolute materialism: that is to say, that a man of thepeople being unable to rise to the divine Unity, drew it downto his level; and the savant, being unable to comprehendit and believing nevertheless to grasp it, confused it withNature.

It was to evade this inevitable catastrophe that thesages and theosophists had, as I have said, made a mysteryof the Unity of God, and had concealed it in the inmostrecesses of the sanctuaries. It was only after many trials,and not until the initiate was judged worthy to be admittedto the sublime degree of autopsy, that the last veil was liftedto his gaze, and the principle and end of all things, the Beingof beings, in all its unfathomable Unity, was delivered to hiscontemplation.[605]

28.If Heaven wills it, thou shalt know that Nature,
Alike in everything, is the same in every place.

I have already said that the homogeneity of Nature was,with the unity of God, one of the greatest secrets of themysteries. Pythagoras founded this homogeneity upon theunity of the spirit by which it is penetrated and from which,according to him, all our souls draw theirorigin.[606]Thisdogma which he had received from the Chaldeans and fromthe priests of Egypt was admitted by all the sages of antiquity,as is proved at great length by Stanley and theastute Beausobre.[607]These sages established a harmony, aperfect analogy between heaven and earth, the intelligibleand the sentient, the indivisible substance and the divisiblesubstance; in such a manner that that which took place in oneof the regions of the Universe or of the modifications of theprimordial Ternary was the exact image of that which tookplace in the other. This idea is found very forcibly revealedby the ancient Thoth, calledHermesTrismegistus,[608]by theGreeks, in the table of Emerald which is attributed to him.

In truth, and without fiction, in truth, in truth, I say toyou, that things inferior are like unto the superior; both unitetheir invincible forces to produce one sole thing, the most marvellousof all, and as all things are emanated by the will of oneunique God, thus all things whatsoever must be engendered bythis sole thing,—by a disposition of Universalnature.[609]

I must say, however, that it is upon the homogeneity ofNature that were founded in the principle all the so-calledoccult sciences of which the principal four, relating to thehuman Quaternary, were Theurgy, Astrology, Magic, andChemistry.[610]I have already spoken of the astrologicalscience, and I have given sufficient evidence of what I thinkregarding the ridiculous and petty ideas concerning it thatthe modems have conceived. I will refrain from speakingof the other three, on account of the prolixities into whichthe discussions that they would provoke might lure me.In another work I will endeavour to show that the principlesupon which they were supported differed greatly from thosewhich superstition and blind credulity have given them intimes of ignorance; and that the sciences taught to the initiatesin the ancient sanctuaries, under the names of Theurgy,Magic, or Chemistry, differed much from what the vulgarhave understood in later times by the same words.

29.So that, as to thy true rights enlightened,
Thine heart shall no more feed on vain desires.

That is to say, that the disciple of Pythagoras, havingattained through knowledge of himself to that of truth,ought to judge sanely of the possibility or impossibility ofthings, and to find in wisdom itself that just mean which hehas found in virtue and in science. Equally distant fromthat blind credulity which admits and seeks without reflectionthe things most incompatible with the laws of Nature,and from that presumptuous ignorance which rejects anddenies without examination all those things which issue fromthe narrow circle of its empirical notions; he should understandwith exactness the limits and the forces of Nature,know instantly what is contained therein or what exceedsthem, and not form any vow, any project, or any enterprisebeyond his power.

30.Thou shalt see that the evils which devour men
Are of their choice the fruit.…

Undoubtedly one of the most important things for manto understand is the nearest cause of his evils, so that,ceasing from murmuring against Providence, he may blameonly himself for the misfortunes of which he is the properartisan. Ignorance, always weak and presumptuous, concealingits own mistakes, holds responsible, with theirconsequences, the things which are most foreign there: thusthe child which hurts itself, threatens with his voice andstrikes with his hand the wall against which he has stumbled.Of all errors this is the most common. Likewise he acknowledgeswith as much difficulty his own wrongs as he accuseswith ease those of others. This baleful habit of imputing toProvidence the evils which afflict humanity has furnished,as we have seen, the strongest arguments to the skeptics toattack its influence, and to undermine thus in its foundationthe very existence of the Divinity. All peoples have beenguilty ofthis [611];but the moderns are, as I believe, the onlyones who coldly and without passion, in order to sustaincertain opinions that they have embraced, have raisedsystematically their ignorance concerning the cause of evil,and made an irresistible fatality proceed from the All-Powerfuland divine Prescience, which drawing man on tovice and misfortune, damns him by force; and by a consequencedetermined by the will of God, delivers him to eternalsufferings.[612]Such were those among the Christians of thefifth century, who were named Predestinarians on accountof their terrible system. Their opinion, it is true, was condemnedby the councils of Arles andLyon [613];but theydeclared that the church fell into inconsistency, since thesentiment in this respect, being exactly conformable withthat which Saint Augustine had advanced against the Pelagians,this church could not condemn the one withoutcondemning the other and therefore, without deciding infavour of the opposed doctrine which they had alreadycondemned. It is certain that the Predestinarians wereright on this last point, as well as Gotescalc, Baius, and Jansenius,who, with the book of Saint Augustine in hand,proved it later on, by causing in this church, at differenttimes, troubles more or less violent on the subject.

This is the moment to complete the proofs of what Iadvanced in my Seventh Examination, that the liberty ofman can be established only by the sole theosophical tradition,and the assent that all the sages of the earth have givento it; and that there is no doctrine, which, becoming separated,does not abandon the Universe to the irresistible impulse ofan absolute fatality. I have shown sufficiently the emptinessof all the cosmogonical systems, whether their authors havefounded them upon a sole principle or upon two, upon spiritor upon matter; I have sufficiently indicated the dangerthat would have ensued from divulging the secret dogma ofdivine Unity, since this disclosure drew with it the necessityof explaining the origin of Good and Evil, which was impossible;I have cited the example of Moses, and I havedemonstrated as a decisive point in this matter that thoseof his followers who rejected the oral tradition of this greatman, to attach themselves to the literal meaning only of hisSepher, fell into fatalism and were led to make God himselfthe author of Evil; finally I have announced that Christianityand Islamism, issuing alike from the Mosaic doctrine,have not been able to evade the dogma of predestination:this dogma, although often repulsed by the Christian andMussulman doctors, alarmed at its consequences, is shown,none the less, from the facts. The Koran which teaches itopenly exempts me from other proofs in defence of the Mussulmans.Let us turn to the Christians.

It is certain that one of the greatest men of the primitivechurch, Origen, perceiving to what consequences the explanationof the origin of Evil led, by the way in which it wasvulgarly understood, according to the literal translation ofthe Sepher of Moses, undertook to bring all back to allegory,recalling Christianity being born to the theosophical traditionpertaining to the free will ofman [614];but his books,wherein he exposed this tradition according to the doctrineof Pythagoras andPlato,[615]were burned as heretical, bythe order of PopeGelasius.[616]The church at that timepaid little attention to the blow dealt by Origen, occupiedas it was with examining the principal dogmas of incarnation,of the divinity of Jesus, of the consubstantiality of the Word,of the Unity of its person and the duality of its nature; butwhen, following the energetic expression of Plucquet, theflame of conflagration had passed over all these opinions,and when the waves of blood had drenched the ashes, it wasnecessary to offer new food for its activity. An Englishmonk named Pelagius,[617]born with an ardent and impetuousmind, was the foremost to attack this thorny questionof the liberty of man, and, wishing to establish it, was ledto deny original sin.

Man [he said] is free to do good or evil: he who tries to laythe blame of his vices on the weakness of nature, is unjust: forwhat is sin, in general? Is it a thing that one may evade, ornot? If one cannot evade it, there is no evil in committing itand then it does not exist: if one can evade it, it must be evil tocommit it and therefore it exists: its very existence is born of thefree will, and provesit.[618]The dogma of original sin [continuedPelagius] is absurd and unjust to God; for a creature which doesnot exist would not be an accomplice of a bad action; and itoutrages divine justice, to say that God punishes him as guiltyof this action.[619]Man [added Pelagius] has therefore a real powerof doing good and evil, and he is free in these two respects.But the liberty of doing a thing supposes necessarily the unionof all causes and of all conditions requisite for doing that thing;and one is not free regarding an effect, every time that one ofthe causes or conditions naturally exigent for producing thiseffect is lacking. Therefore, to have the liberty of seeing thesubjects, it is necessary not only that the sense of sight be welldeveloped, but also that the subjects be discriminated, andplaced at an equitabledistance.[620]

This far, the doctrine of Pelagius was wholly similar tothat of Pythagoras, as explained byHierocles [621];but itdiffers from it afterwards, in what the English monk asserted,that since man is born with the liberty of doing good and evil,he receives from nature and unites in him all the conditionsand all the causes naturally necessary for good and evil;which robs him of his most beautiful prerogative,—perfectibility;whereas Pythagoras held, on the contrary, that thesecauses and these effects were only accorded to those who,on their part, concurred in acquiring them, and who, by thework that they have done for themselves in seeking to knowthemselves, have succeeded in possessing them more andmore perfectly.

However mitigated the doctrine of Pelagius might be, itappeared still to accord too much with free will and wascondemned by the ecclesiastical authorities, who declared,through the medium of several councils, that man can donothing of himself without the aid of grace. Saint Augustine,who had been the soul of these councils, pressed by the discipleof Pelagius to explain the nature of this grace and tosay how God accorded it to one man rather than to anotherwithout being induced by the difference of their merits,replied that man being in the(masse de perdition), and Godhaving no need of them, and being furthermore independentand all-powerful, he gave grace to whom he willed, withoutthe one to whom he did not give it having the right tocomplain; everything coming to pass as a result of his will,which had foreseen all and determinedall.[622]Assuredlyone could not establish more forcibly the necessity of allthings, nor submit men to a sterner fatality, since the wantof grace deprived them, not only of virtue in the fleetingcourse of this life, but delivered them without hope to thetorments of an eternal hell. But Saint Augustine, whoobeyed a severe and consistent reason, felt very well that hecould not speak otherwise, without renouncing the dogma oforiginal sin and overthrowing the foundation of Christianity.All the rigid Christians, all those who, at different times,have undertaken to restore Christianity to its constitutiveprinciples, have thought as Saint Augustine, and althoughthe church, alarmed at the terrible inferences that weredrawn from the canonical doctrine, may have essayed totemper it, by condemning, as I have said, the Predestinariansand by approving of the persecutions directed againstGotescalc; and, at the time when Luther drew in his reforma great part of Christendom toward the dogma of predestination,this did not prevent Baius, who remained faithfulto orthodoxy, from preaching the same dogma; nor Calvin,soon after, from adding new lights to what Luther had leftdoubtful, and Jansenius, finally, corroborating what Baiushad only outlined, from raising in the very midst of thechurch that formidable faction which all the united effortsof the Pope and the Jesuits have been unable to convict oferring in the doctrine of Saint Augustine, which it has sustainedwith a force worthy of a better cause.

According to Calvin, who of all of them expresses himselfmost clearly, the soul of man, all of whose faculties areinfected with sin, lacks force to resist the temptation whichlures him on toward evil. The liberty of which he prideshimself is a chimera; he confounds the free with the voluntary,and believes that he chooses freely because there is noconstraint, and that he wills to do the evil that hedoes.[623]Thus following the doctrine of this reformer, man, dominatedby his vicious passions, can produce of himself onlywicked actions; and it is to draw him from this state ofcorruption and impotence that it was necessary that Godshould send his son upon earth to redeem him and to atonefor him; so that it is from the absence of liberty in man thatCalvin draws his strongest proofs of the coming of Christ:“For,” he said, “if man had been free, and if he had beenable to save himself, it would not have been needful thatGod should offer up his Son insacrifice.”[624]

This last argument seems irresistible. Besides when theJesuits had accused Calvin and his followers of making Godthe author of sin, and of destroying thus all idea of theDivinity [625]they knew better than to say how it can beotherwise accomplished. They would not have been able,without doing a thing impossible for them—that is, withoutgiving the origin of evil. The difficulty of this explanation,which Moses, even as I have said, has enveloped with atriple veil, has in no wise escaped the fathers of the primitivechurch. They have well felt that it was the important pointwhereon depended the solution of all other questions. Buthow can one attempt even the explanation? The mostenlightened among them had agreed that it is an abyss ofnature that one would not know how tofathom.[626]

31. …that these unfortunates
Seek afar the goodness whose source within they bear.

The source of all goodness is wisdom, and wisdom beginswith the knowledge of oneself. Without this knowledge, oneaspires in vain to real goodness. But how is it obtainable?If you interrogate Plato upon this important point, he willrespond to you, that it is in going back to the essence ofthings—that is to say, in considering that which constitutesman in himself. “A workman, you will say to this philosopher,is not the same thing as the instrument which heuses; the one who plays the lyre differs from the lyre uponwhich he plays. You will readily agree to this, and thephilosopher, pursuing his reasoning, will add: And the eyeswith which this musician reads his music, and the handswith which he holds his lyre, are they not also instruments?Can you deny, if the eyes, if the hands are instruments, thatthe whole body may likewise be an instrument, differentfrom the being who makes use of it and who commands?”Unquestionably no, and you will comprehend sufficientlythat this being, by which man is really man, is the soul, theknowledge of which you ought to seek. “For,” Plato willalso tell you, “he who knows his body, only knows that it ishis, and is not himself. To know his body as a physician oras a sculptor, is an art, to know his soul, as a sage, is ascience and the greatest of allsciences.”[627]

From the knowledge of himself man passes to that ofGod; and it is in fixing this model of all perfection that hesucceeds in delivering himself from the evils which he hasattracted by his own choice.[628]His deliverance depends,according to Pythagoras, upon virtue and upontruth.[629]The virtue, that he acquires by purification, tempers anddirects the passions; the truth, which he attains by his unionwith the Being of beings, dissipates the darkness with whichhis intelligence is obsessed; and both of them, acting jointlyin him, give him the divine form, according as he is disposedto receive it, and guide him to supremefelicity.[630]But howdifficult to obtain this desired goal!

32.For few know happiness: playthings of the passions,
Hither, thither tossed by adverse waves,
Upon a shoreless sea, they blinded roll,
Unable to resist or to the tempest yield.

Lysis shows in these lines what are the greatest obstaclesto the happiness of man. They are the passions: not thepassions in themselves, but the evil effects that they produceby the disordered movement that the understanding allowsthem to take. It is to this that the attention must be directedso that one should not fall into the error of the Stoics.Pythagoras, as I have said, did not command his disciplesto destroy their passions, but to moderate their ardour, andto guide them well. “The passions,” said this philosopher,“are given to be aids to reason; it is necessary that they beits servants and not its masters.” This is a truth that thePlatonists and even the Peripatetics have recognized, bythe evidence of Hierocles.[631]Thus Pythagoras regarded thepassions as instruments of which the understanding makesuse in raising the intellectual edifice. A man utterly deprivedof them would resemble a mass inert and immovablein the course of life; it is true that he might be able not tobecome depraved, but then he could not enjoy his noblestadvantage, which is perfectibility. Reason is establishedin the understanding to hold sway over the passions; it mustcommand them with absolute sovereignty, and make themtend towards the end that wisdom indicates. If it should notrecognize the laws that intelligence gives it, and if, presumptuously,it wishes, instead of acting according to givenprinciples, to lay down principles itself, it falls into excess,and makes man superstitious or skeptic, fanatic or atheist;if, on the contrary, it receives laws from the passions that itought to rule, and if weak it allows itself to be subjugatedby them, it falls into error and renders man stupid or mad,brutish in vice, or audacious in crime. There are no truereasonings except those admitted by wisdom; the falsereasonings must be considered as the cries of an insensatesoul, given over to the movements of an anarchical reasonwhich the passions confuse andblind.[632]

Pythagoras considered man as holding the mean betweenthings intellectual and sentient, the lowest of the superiorbeings and the highest of the inferior, free to move eithertoward the heights or the depths, by means of his passions,which bring into action the ascending or descending movementthat his will possesses with potentiality; sometimesbeing united with the immortals and, through his return tovirtue, recovering the lot which is his own, and other timesplunging again into mortal kind and through transgressionof the divine laws finding himself fallen from hisdignity.[633]This opinion, which had been that of all the sages who hadpreceded Pythagoras, has been that of all the sages who havefollowed him, even of those among the Christian theosophistswhose religious prejudices have removed them farthestfrom his doctrine. I shall not stop to give the proofs of itsantiquity; they are to be found everywhere, and would besuperfluous. Thomas Burnet, having vainly sought for theorigin without being able to discover it, decided that itwas necessary that it should descend fromheaven.[634]It iscertain that one can only with difficulty explain how a manwithout erudition, like Boehme, never having received thisopinion from anyone, has been able to explain it so clearly.“When one sees man existing,” says this theosophist, “onecan say: Here all Eternity is manifested in oneimage.”[635]

The abode of this being is an intermediate point betweenheaven and hell, love and anger; that, of the things to whichhe is attached, becomes his kind.… If he inclines towardthe celestial nature, he assumes a celestial form, and the humanform becomes infernal if he inclines toward hell; for as the mindis, so is the body. In whatever way the mind projects itself, itshadows forth its body with a similar form and a similarsource.[636]

It is upon this principle, which one finds still everywherediversely expressed, that the dogma of the transmigrationof souls is founded. This dogma, explained in the ancientmysteries,[637]and received by all peoples,[638]has been tosuch an extent disfigured in what the moderns have calledMetempsychosis, that it would be necessary to exceed considerablythe limits of these Examinations in order to givean explanation which could be understood. Later I willendeavour to expose my sentiment upon this mystery, whenI treat of Theurgy and other occult sciences to which it isallied.

33.God! Thou couldst save them by opening their eyes.

Lysis here approaches openly one of the greatest difficultiesof nature, that which in all time has furnished to theskeptics and to the atheists the weapons that they havebelieved most formidable. Hierocles has not concealed it inhis Commentaries, and he expresses it in these terms: “IfGod is able to bring back all men to virtue and to happiness,and if he does not will to do so, is God therefore unjust andwicked? Or if he wills to bring them back and if he is unable,is God therefore weak andimpotent?”[639]Long beforeHierocles, Epicurus seized upon this argument to supporthis system, and had extended it without augmenting itsforce. His design had been to prove by its means that,according as he had advanced it, God does not interfere withthe things of this world, and that there is, consequently, noProvidence.[640]Lactantius, thinking that he was answeringthis, has quoted from Epicurus and has afforded Bayle, themost learned and the most formidable of modern skeptics,the occasion for demonstrating that, until now, this terribleargument had remained unrefuted notwithstanding all theefforts made for its overthrow.

This indefatigable reasoner said:

The evil exists; man is wicked and unhappy: everythingproves this sad truth. History is, properly speaking, only amiscellany of the crimes and adversities of mankind. However,at intervals, there have been seen shining some examples ofvirtue and happiness. There is, therefore, a mixture of evilsand of moral and physical goodness.… Now, if man is thework of a sole principle, sovereignly good, sovereignly holy,sovereignly potential, how is he exposed to the maladies of cold,heat, hunger, thirst, pain, and sorrow? How has he so manywicked inclinations? How does he commit so many crimes?Can the sovereign sanctity produce a criminal creature? Canthe sovereign bounty produce an unfortunatecreature?[641]

Bayle, content with his anti-providential declaration,believes that he has triumphed over all the dogmatists ofthe world; but whilst he recovers his breath, observe that headmits a mixture of good and evil, and allow him to continue.

“Origen,” he said, “asserts that evil has come from thewicked use of the free will. And why has God allowed manto have so pernicious a free will?” “Because,” Origenanswers, “an intelligent creature who had not enjoyed freewill would have been immutable and immortal as God.”What pitiable reason! Is it that the glorified souls, the saints,are equal to God, being predestined to good, and deprivedof what is calledfree will, which, according to Saint Augustine,is only the possibility of evil when the divine gracedoes not incline man towards thegood?”[642]

Bayle, after several outbursts of this sort, finishes bydeclaring that the way in which evil is introduced under therule of a sovereign being, infinitely good, infinitely potential,infinitely holy, is not only inexplicable but evenincomprehensible.[643]Bayle is right on this point; also I have alwayssaid, in the course of this work, that the origin of evil,comprehensible or not, could never be divulged. But thematter of the origin of evil is not the question here. Baylewas too good a reasoner not to have felt it, not to have seenthat the argument of Epicurus, and all the elocution withwhich he furnished it, did not bear upon the cause of evilitself, but upon its effects; which is quite different. Epicurusdid not demand that the origin of evil be explained to him,but the local existence of its effects—that is to say, one shouldstate clearly to him, that if God was able and willing to takeaway the evil from the world, or to prevent it from penetratingthere, why he did not do so. When any one’s houseis the prey of flames, one is not so insensate as to be concernedwith knowing what the essence of the fire is, and why it burnsin general, but why it burns in particular; and why, beingable to extinguish it, one has not done so. Bayle, I repeat,was too clever a logician not to have perceived this. Thisdistinction was too simple to have escaped him; but seeingthat its very simplicity had concealed it from the doctorsof the Christian church, he was content to affect an ignoranceof it to his adversaries, to have the pleasure, so precious to askeptic such as he, of seeing them one after another exhaustthemselves upon the argument of Epicurus:

God, whether he wills to take away evil, and can not; whetherhe can and does not will to; whether he does not will it nor can;whether he wills it and can. If he wills it and can not, he isweak; which does not accord with God. If he can and does notwill it, he is wicked; which accords with him no better. If hedoes not will it nor can, he is wicked and weak, which could notbe. If he can and wills it, that which alone is worthy of hisdivinity, whence then come the evils? Or why does he not takethem away?[644]

Lactantius, to whom Bayle owed his argument, hadthought to overthrow it, by saying that God, being able totake away evil, did not will it; so as to give to men, by itsmeans, wisdom and virtue.[645]But the skeptic philosopherhad no trouble to prove that this answer was worth nothing,and that the doctrine that it contained was monstrous; sinceit was certain that God was able to give wisdom and virtuewithout the means of evil; since he had even given them,following the belief of Lactantius himself, and that it wasbecause he had renounced them that man had become subjectto evil. Saint Basil was no more fortunate than Lactantius.Vainly he asserted that the free will, whence resultsevil, had been established by God himself in the design thatthis All-powerful Being had for being loved and freely served.Bayle, attacking him in his own faith, asked him, if God isloved and served by force in Paradise, where the glorifiedsouls do not enjoy the fatal privilege of being able tosin.[646]And with the same blow with which he struck him, hebrought down Malebranche who had said the samething.[647]The downfall of Malebranche, and the desire to avenge him,bestirred in vain a crowd of audacious metaphysicians.Bayle pierced them one after another with the weapons ofEpicurus, whose steel they did not know, and died with theglory of their having said the greatest piece of stupiditywhich could be said upon a like matter: namely, that it waspossible that God might prescribe another end, in creatingthe world, than to make his creatureshappy.[648]

The death of Bayle did not extinguish the ardour that hisworks had excited. Leibnitz, justly displeased with all thathad been said, thought he could answer the skeptic philosopherbetter; and raising himself with a great force of geniusto that pristine moment when God formed the decree ofproducing the world, he represented the Being of beingschoosing among an infinity of worlds, all possible, all presentat his thought, the actual world, as most conformable to hisattributes, the most worthy of him, the best finally, the mostcapable of attaining to the greatest and most excellent endthat this all-perfect Being may have been able topurpose.[649]But what is this magnificent and worthy end which theDivinity has chosen, this goal which not alone constitutesthe actual world such as it is, but which also presents it tothe mind, according to the system of Leibnitz, as the best ofpossible worlds? This philosopher does not know.

We are not able [he said] to penetrate it, for we are toolimited for this; we can only infer, by reasoning with the insightthat God has given us, that his bounty only has been able topurpose, by creating the greatest possible number of intelligentcreatures, by endowing them with as much knowledge, happiness,and beauty as the Universe might admit without going awayfrom the immutable order established by hiswisdom.[650]

Up to this point, the system of Leibnitz sustained itself,and was able even to lead to a relative truth; but its workwas not accomplished. It was necessary to explain, followingthe demand of Epicurus so much repeated by Bayle, howin this immutable order established by the divine Wisdomin this best of worlds, that physical and moral evil make feltsuch severe effects. The German philosopher, instead ofstopping at these effects, and stating the primordial cause,inaccessible to his researches, still scorned it, as had all theadversaries of Bayle, and asserted that physical and moralevils were necessary to maintain this immutable order, andentered into the plan of this best of worlds. Fatal assertionwhich overthrew his system instantly: for, how dares oneto say that evil is necessary, and above all necessary notonly in what is best, but in what is the best possible!

Now, whatever may be the primordial cause of Evil,concerning which I can not nor do I wish to explain myself,until the triple veil, extended over this formidable mysteryby Moses, may have been raised, I will say, according to thedoctrine of Pythagoras and Plato, that its effects can beneither necessary, nor irresistible since they are not immutableand I will reply to the much-lauded argument of Epicurus,that by this very thing they are neither necessary norirresistible; God can and will remove them and he doesremove them.

And if certain disciples of Bayle, astonished by a replyso bold and so new, asked me when and how God works sogreat a benefit, of which they have perceived no traces, Iwill say to them: by time and by means of perfectibility.Time is the instrument of Providence; perfectibility, theplan of its work; Nature, the object of its labour; and Good,its result. You know, and Bayle himself agrees, that thereexists a mixture of good and evil: and I repeat to you herewhat I have already said [651];and I maintain that this goodemanates from Providence, and is its work, and replaces inthe sphere where it has been transported, an equivalentamount of evil which it has transmuted into good; I maintainthat this good continues augmenting itself unceasinglyand the evil which corresponds to it, diminishing in an equalproportion; I maintain finally that, having left absolute eviland having arrived at the point where you now are, you willarrive by the same road and by the same means, that is, byfavour of time and of perfectibility, from the point whereyou are to absolute Good, the crown of perfection. This isthe answer to your question, When and how does God takeaway evils? Still if you claim you cannot see any of this,I will reply that it is not for you, arguing with the weaknessof your view, to deny the progress of Providence, you whoseimperfect senses mistake all the time even the subjectswithin your range, and for whom the extremes are touchingso forcibly, that it is impossible for you to distinguish uponthe same dial the movement of the needle which traversesit in a cycle, from the movement of that which traversesit in less than a second; one of these needles appearing toyou immobile and the other not existing foryou.[652]

If you deny what I affirm, bring other proofs of yourdenial than your weakness and cease, from the little cornerwhere Nature has placed you, presuming to judge its immensity.Still if you lack negative proofs, wait a momentmore, and you shall have from me affirmative proofs. Butif, going back, and wishing to sustain the argument of Epicuruswhich is giving way, you believe that you will succeedby saying that this philosopher had not asked, in the casewhere God was able and willed to remove evils, how heremoved them, but why he did not remove them; I will replyto you that this question is a pure sophism; that the how isimplicitly contained in the why, to which I have replied inaffirming that God, being able and willing to remove evils,removes them. And if you recall an objection that I havealready overthrown concerning the manner in which heremoves them, and that bringing you to judge of his ways,you would assume that he ought to remove them, not in alapse of time so long that you would be unconscious of it,but in the twinkling of an eye; I would reply that this waywould be to you quite as imperceptible as the other; andthat furthermore, that which you demand exists, since thelapse of time of which you complain, however long it mayappear to you, is less than the twinkling of an eye for theBeing of beings who employs it, being absolutelynihilcompared to Eternity. And from there I will take occasionto tell you that evil, in the way in which it is manifest in theworld, being a sort of malady, God, who alone can cure it,knows also the sole remedy which may be applicable to itand that this sole remedy is time.

It seems to me that however little attention you mayhave given to what I have just said, you ought to be temptedto pass on from the knowledge of the remedy to that of themalady; but it is in vain that you would demand of me anexplanation concerning its nature. This explanation is notnecessary to overthrow the argument of Epicurus and thatis all that I have wished to do. The rest depends upon youand I can only repeat with Lysis:

“God! Thou couldst save them by opening their eyes.”

34.But no: ’tis for the humans of a race divine,
To discern Error, and to see the Truth.

Hierocles who, as I have said, has not concealed thedifficulty which is contained in these lines, has raised it, bymaking evident that it depends upon the free will of man, andby putting a limit upon the evils which he attracts to himselfby his own choice. His reasoning coinciding with mine canbe reduced to these few words. The sole remedy for evil,whatever may be the cause, is time. Providence, ministerof the Most High, employs this remedy; and by means ofperfectibility which results from it, brings back all to good.But the aptitude of the maladies for receiving it acts inproportion to this remedy. Time, always the same, andalwaysnihil for the Divinity is, however, shortened orlengthened for men, according as their will coincides with theprovidential action or differs therefrom. They have only todesire good, and time which fatigues them will be lightened.But what if they desire evil always, will time therefore notbe finished? Will the evils therefore have no limit? Is itthat the will of man is so inflexible that God may not turn ittowards the good? The will of man is free beyond doubt; andits essence, immutable as the Divinity whence it emanates,knows not how to be changed, but nothing is impossible forGod. The change which is effected in it, without which itsimmutability may in no wise be altered, is the miracle of theAll-Powerful. It is a result of its own liberty, and if I dareto say it, takes place by the coincidence of two movements,whose impulse is given by Providence; by the first, it showsto the will, goodness; by the second, it puts it in a fittingposition to meet this same goodness.

35.Nature serves them.…

Lysis expresses it thus: Nature, by the homogeneitywhich, as I have stated, constitutes its essence, teaches mento see beyond the range of their senses, transports them byanalogy from one region to another and develops their ideas.The perfectibility which is manifested through the grace oftime is called perfection; for the more a thing is perfectedthe more perfect it becomes. The man who perceives this isstruck by it, and if he reflect he finds truth, as I have openlystated, and to which Lysis was content with making allusion,on account of the secret of the mysteries that he was forcedto respect.

It is this perfectibility manifested in Nature, which givesthe affirmative proofs that I have promised, touching theway in which Providence removes with time the evils whichafflict men. These are the proofsde facto. They cannot bechallenged without absurdity. I know well that there havebeen men who, studying Nature within four walls, andconsidering its operations through the extremely narrowprism of their ideas, have denied that anything might beperfectible, and have asserted that the Universe was immobilebecause they have not seen it move; but there doesnot exist today a genuine observer, a naturalist whose learningis founded upon Nature, who does not invalidate thedecision of these pretended savants, and who does not putperfectibility in the rank of the most rigorously demonstratedtruths.

I shall not quote the ancients on a subject where theirauthority would be challenged; I shall even limit myself, toevade prolixities, to a small number of striking passagesamong the moderns. Leibnitz, who ought less than anyother to admit perfectibility, since he had founded his systemupon the existence of the best of worlds possible, has, however,recognized it in Nature, in advancing that all thechanges which are operated there are the consequence ofboth; that everything tends toward its improvement, andthat therefore the present is already teeming with thefuture.[653]Buffon, inclining strongly toward the system of atoms,ought also to be much opposed, and yet he has been unableto see that Nature, in general, tends far more toward lifethan toward death, and that it seems to be seeking toorganize bodies as much as ispossible.[654]The school ofKant has pushed the system of perfectibility as far as itcould go. Schelling, the disciple of most consequence ofthis celebrated man, has followed the development of Naturewith a force of thought which has perhaps passed the mark.The former, has ventured to say that Nature is a sort ofDivinity in germ, which tends to apotheosis, and is preparedfor existence with God, by the reign of Chaos, and by thatof Providence.[655]But those are only speculative opinions.Here are opinions founded upon facts.

As soon as one considers the Earth observingly, thenaturalists say, one perceives striking traces of the revolutionsthat it has sustained in anteriortimes.[656]

The continents have not always been what they are today,the waters of the globe have not always been distributed in thesame manner. The ocean changes insensibly its bed, underminesthe lands, divides them, rushes over some, and leaves othersdry. The islands have not always been islands. The continentshave been peopled, with living and vegetating beings, beforethe present disposition of the waters upon theglobe.[657]

These observations confirm what Pythagoras and the ancientsages have taught upon thissubject [658]:

Besides [these same naturalists continue], the greater partof the fossil bones that have been assembled and compared arethose of animals different from any of the species actually known;has the kingdom of life therefore changed? This one cannotrefuse to believe.[659]As Nature proceeds unceasingly from thesimple to the composite, it is probable that the most imperfectanimals should have been created before the tribes, higher inthe scale of life. It even seems that each of the animal classesindicates a sort of suspension in the creative power, an intermission,an era of repose, during which Nature prepared insilence the germs of life which should come to light in the courseof the cycles. One might thus enumerate the epochs of livingNature, epochs remote in the night of ages and which have beenobliged to precede the formation of mankind. A time may havebeen when the insect, the shell, the unclean reptile, did notrecognize the master in the Universe and were placed at the headof the organizedbodies.[660]

These observers add:

It is certain that most perfect beings come from less perfect,and that they are obliged to be perfected in the sequence ofgenerations. All animals tend towards man; all vegetablesaspire to animality; minerals seek to draw nearer to the vegetable.…It is evident that Nature, having created a series ofplants and animals, and having stopped at man who forms thesuperior extremity, has assembled in him all the vital facultiesthat it had distributed among the inferiorraces.[661]

These are the ideas of Leibnitz. This celebrated manhad said: “Men hold to animals; these to plants, and thoseto fossils. It is necessary that all the natural orders formonly one sole chain, in which the different classes hold strictlyas if they were its links.”[662]Several philosophers haveadopted them,[663]but none have expressed them with moreorder and energy than the author of the articleNature, inLe Nouveau Dictionnaire d’Histoire naturelle.

All animals, all plants are only the modifications of an animal,of a vegetable origin.… Man is the knot which unites theDivinity to matter, which links heaven and earth. This rayof wisdom and intelligence which shines in his thoughts isreflected upon all Nature. It is the chain of communicationbetween all beings. All the series of animals [he adds in anotherplace] present only a long degradation from the propernature of man. The monkey, considered either in his exteriorform or in his interior organization, resembles only a degradedman; and the same suggestion of degradation is observed inpassing from monkeys to quadrupeds; so that the primitivetrend of the organization is recognized in all, and the principalviscera, the principal members are identicalthere.[664]

Who knows [observes elsewhere the same writer] who knowsif in the eternal night of time the sceptre of the world will notpass from the hands of man into those of a being more worthyof bearing it and more perfect? Perhaps the race of negroes,today secondary in the human specie, has already been queenof the earth before the white race was created.… If Naturehas successively accorded the empire to the species that it createsmore and more perfect, why should she cease today.… Thenegro, already king of animals, has fallen beneath the yoke ofthe European; will the latter bow the head in his turn before arace more powerful and more intelligent when it enters into theplans of Nature to ordain his existence? Where will his creationstop? Who will place the limits of his power? God aloneraises it and it is His all-powerful hand whichgoverns.[665]

These striking passages full of forceful ideas, whichappear new, and which would merit being better known,contain only a small part of the things taught in the ancientmysteries, as I shall perhaps demonstrate later.

36. …Thou who fathomed it.
O wise and happy man, rest in its haven.
But observe my laws, abstaining from the things
Which thy soul must fear, distinguishing them well;
Letting intelligence o’er thy body reign.

Lysis, speaking always in the name of Pythagoras, addressedhimself to those of the disciples of this theosophist,who had reached the highest degree of perfection, or autopsy,and the felicity of their welfare. I have said often enough inthe course of these Examinations, what should be understoodby this last degree, so that I need not refer to it here. I shallnot even pause upon what has reference to the symbolicteachings of Pythagoras, the formularies and dietetics thathe gave to his disciples, and the abstinences that he prescribedfor them, my design being to give incidentally aparticular explanation of it, for the purpose of not furtherprolonging this volume. It is well known that all of theeminent men, as many among the ancients as among themoderns, all the savants commendable for their labours ortheir learning, are agreed in regarding the precepts of Pythagorasas symbolical, that is, as containing figuratively,a very different meaning from that which they would seem tooffer literally.[666]It was the custom of the Egyptian priestsfrom whom he had imbibedthem,[667]to conceal their doctrinebeneath an outer covering of parables andallegories.[668]The world was, in their eyes, a vast enigma, whose mysteries,clothed in a style equally enigmatical, ought neverto be openly divulged.[669]These priests had three kinds ofcharacters, and three ways of expressing and depicting theirthoughts. The first manner of writing and of speaking wasclear and simple; the second, figurative; and the third,symbolic. In the first, they employed characters used byall peoples and took the words in their literal meaning; inthe second, they used hieroglyphic characters, and took thewords in an indirect and metaphorical meaning; finally inthe third, they made use of phrases with double meaningof historic and astronomical fables, or of simpleallegories.[670]The(chef-d’œuvre) of the sacerdotal art was uniting thesethree ways, and enclosing under the appearance of a clearand simple style, the vulgar, figurative, and symbolic meaning.Pythagoras has sought this kind of perfection in hisprecepts and often he has succeeded; but the one of all thetheosophists instructed in the sanctuaries of Thebes or ofMemphis, who has pushed farthest, this marvellous art, isbeyond doubt Moses. The first part of his Sepher, vulgarlycalledGenesis, and that should be called by its original nameofBereshith, is in this style, the most admirable work, themost astounding feat of strength that is possible for a manto conceive and execute. This book, which contains all thescience of the ancient Egyptians, is still to be translated andwill only be translated when one will put oneself in a conditionto understand the language in which it has primitivelybeen composed.

37.So that, ascending into radiant Ether,
Midst the Immortals, thou shalt be thyself a God.

Here, said Hierocles, in terminating his commentaries, isthe blissful end of all efforts: here, according to Plato, is thehope which enkindles, which sustains the ardour of him whofights in the career of virtue: here, the inestimable prizewhich awaits him.[671]It was the great object of the mysteries,and so to speak, the great work of initiation.[672]Theinitiate, said Sophocles, is not only happy during his life,but even after his death he can promise himself an eternalfelicity.[673]His soul purified by virtue, said Pindar, unfoldsin those blessed regions where reigns an eternalspringtime.[674]It goes on, said Socrates, attracted by the celestialelement which has the greatest affinity with its nature, tobecome united with the immortal Gods and to share theirglory and theirimmortality.[675]This deification was, accordingto Pythagoras, the work of divine love; it wasreserved for him who had acquired truth through his intellectualfaculties, virtue through his animistic faculties,and purity through his instinctive faculties. This purity,after the end of his material body, shone forth and madeitself known in the form of a luminous body, that the soulhad been given during its confinement in its gloomy body;for as I finish these Examinations, I am seizing the onlyoccasion which may still be presented of saying that, thisphilosopher taught that the soul has a body which is givenaccording to his good or bad nature, by the inner labour ofhis faculties. He called this body the subtle chariot of thesoul, and said that the mortal body is only the gross exterior.He adds, “The care of the soul and its luminous body is, inpracticing virtue, in embracing truth and abstaining fromall impurethings.”[676]

This is the veritable aim of the symbolic abstinences thathe prescribes, even as Lysis insinuates moreover quiteclearly in the lines which make the subject of my precedingExamination, when he said that it is necessary to abstainfrom the things which are injurious to the development ofthe soul and to distinguish clearly these things.

Furthermore, Pythagoras believed that there existedcelestial goodness proportionate to each degree of virtue,and that there is for the souls, different ranks according tothe luminous body with which they are clothed. Thesupreme happiness, according to him, belongs only to thesoul which has learned how to recover itself, by its intimateunion with the intelligence, whose essence, changing itsnature, has become entirely spiritual. It is necessary thatthis soul be raised to the knowledge of universal truths, andthat it should have found, as far as it is possible for it, thePrinciple and the end of all things. Then having attainedto this high degree of perfection, being drawn into this immutableregion whose ethereal element is no more subjectedto the descending movement of generation, it can be unitedby its knowledge to the Universal All, and reflect in all itsbeing the ineffable light with which the Being of beings, GodHimself, fills unceasingly the Immensity.

Footnotes

[1] Addressé à la Classe de la Langue et de la Littérature françaises, et àcelle d’Histoire et de Littérature ancienne de l’Institut impérial de France.

[2] This expression will be explained in the progress of the discourse.

[3]De Dignit. et Increment. Scient.,l. ii., c. 13.

[4]Ibid.,l. ii., c. 1.

[5]Ibid.,l. vi., c. 1.

[6]Plat.,Dial. Ion. Aristotle, who was often opposed to Plato, did not dareto be on this point. He agrees that verse alone does not constitute poetry,and that the History of Herodotus, put into verse, would never be otherthan history.

[7]Ibid.

[8]De Dignit. et Increment. Scient.,l. ii., c. 13.

[9] Leclerc, known by the multitude of his works; l’abbé Bannier, Warburton,etc.

[10]De Dignit. et Increment. Scient.,l. ii., c. 13. Court de Gébelin citesChancellor Bacon as one of the first defenders of allegory. (Génie allég.)

[11] Pausanias,l. iii., p. 93.

[12] Acron,InEpist. Horat., i., 2. Certain authors say that Penelope hadconceived this son when Mercury disguised as a goat had forced her virginity.(Lucian,Dialog. Deor.,t. i., p. 176.)

[13] Héraclides, entre les petits mythologues.

[14]Geogr., l. i.

[15]Antiq. rom., l. ii.

[16] In his book entitled Περὶ τῆς τῶν θεῶν φύσεως,ch. 17.

[17] In his book entitled Περὶ θεῶν καὶ κόσμον,ch. 3. Court de Gébelin citesthese works. (Génie allég.)

[18]Præp. Evang., l. iii., c. 1.

[19] Court de Gébelin,Génie allég., p. 149.

[20] Strabo positively assures it. See Bannier,Mythol., ii., p. 252.

[21] Bailly,Essai sur les Fables,ch. 14. Pausanias,l. ix., p. 302.

[22]Poetry, in Greek ποίησις, derived from the Phœnician פאה (phohe), mouth,voice, language, discourse; and from יש (ish), a superior being, a principle being,figuratively God. This last word, spread throughout Europe, is found with certainchange of vowels and of aspirates, very common in the Oriental dialects; inthe Etruscan Æs,Æsar, in the Gallic Æs, in the BasqueAs, and in the ScandinavianAse; the Copts still sayOs, the lord, and the Greeks have preserved it inΑἶσα, the immutable Being, Destiny, and in ἄζω, I adore, and ἀξιόω, I revere.

Thrace, in Greek θρᾴκη, derived from the Phœnician רקיע (rakiwha), whichsignifies theethereal space, or, as one translates the Hebrew word whichcorresponds to it, thefirmament. This word is preceded in the Dorian θρακιᾴ,by the letter θ,th, a kind of article which the Oriental grammarians rangeamong thehémantique letters placed at the beginning of words to modifythe sense, or to render it more emphatic.

Olen, in Greek ὤλεν, is derived from the Phœnician עולן (whôlon), andis applied in the greater part of the Oriental dialects to all that which isinfinite, eternal, universal, whether in time or space. I ought to mentionas an interesting thing and but little known by mythologists, that it is fromthe word אפ (ab orap) joined to that ofwhôlon, that one formedap-whôlon,Apollon; namely, the Father universal, infinite, eternal. This is why theinvention of Poetry is attributed to Olen or to Apollo. It is the same mythologicalpersonage represented by the sun. According to an ancient tradition,Olen was native of Lycia, that is to say, of the light; for this is the meaningof the Greek word λύκη.

[23] Strabo has judiciously observed that in Greece all the technical wordswere foreign. ((Voyez) Bailly,Essai sur les Fables,ch. 14,p. 136.)

[24] The Getæ, in Greek Γέται, were, according to Ælius Spartianus, andaccording to the author ofle Monde primitif (t. ix., p. 49), the same peoplesas the Goths. Their country called Getæ, which should be pronouncedGhœtie, comes from the wordGoth, which signifies God in most of the idiomsof the north of Europe. The name of the Dacians is only a softening of thatof the Thracians in a different dialect.

Mœsia, in Greek Μοίσια, is, in Phœnician, the interpretation of the namegiven to Thrace. The latter means, as we have seen,ethereal space, and theformer signifiesdivine abode, being composed from the word א׳ש (aïsh), whoserendering I have already given, before which is found placed the letter מ(M), one of the(hémantiques), which according to the best grammarians servesto express the proper place, the means, the local manifestation of a thing.

[25](Voyez) Court de Gébelin,Monde primitif,t. ix., p. 49.

[26] This mountain was called Kô-Kajôn, according to d’Anville. Thislearned geographer has clearly seen that this name was the same as that ofCaucasus, a generic name given to all the sacred mountains. It is known thatCaucasus was for the Persians, what Mount Merou had been for the Indiansand what Mount Parnassus became afterwards for the Greeks, the centralplace of their cult. The Tibetans have also their sacred mountain distinctfrom that of the Indians, upon which still resides the God-Priest, or immortalMan, similar to that of the Getæ. (Mém. de l’Acad. des Inscript., t. xxv.,p. 45.)

[27] Bailly,Essai sur les Fables,ch. 14. Conférez avec Hérodote,l. iv.; etPausanias,l. ix., p. 302,l. x., p. 320.

[28]Dionysus, in Greek Διονύσος, comes from the word Διός, irregular genitiveof Ζεύς, the living God, and of Νόος, mind or understanding. The Phœnicianroots of these words are אש‎, ‎ יש‎, ‎or איש (ash,ish, oraïsh), Unique Being, and נו(nô) the motive principle, the movement. These two roots, contracted, formthe wordNôos, which signifies literally the principle of being, and figuratively,the understanding.

Demeter, in Greek Δημήτερ, comes from the ancient Greek Δημ,the earth,united to the word μήτερ,mother. The Phœnician roots are דמ (dam) and מט(môt), the former expressing all that which is formed by aggregation of similarparts; and the latter, all that which varies the form and gives it generativemovement.

[29] Bailly,Essai sur les Fables,ch. 15. Court de Gébelin expressly says,that the sacred mountain of Thrace was consecrated to Bacchus.(Mondeprim.), t. ix., p. 49. Now, it is generally known that Parnassus of the Greekswas consecrated to Apollo.

[30]Theog., v. 500.

[31] The Greek word Θρᾴκη, Thrace, in passing into the Ionian dialect Θρῄξ,has furnished the following expressions: θρῆσκος, a devotee, θρησκεία, devotion,θρησκηύω, I adore with devotion. These words, diverted from theirreal sense and used ironically after the cult of Thrace had yielded to that ofDelphi, were applied to ideas of superstition and even of fanaticism. Thepoint of considering the Thracians as schismatics was even reached, and theword ἐθελοθρησκεία composed to express a heresy, a cult particular to thosewho practised it, and separated from orthodoxy.

[32] Œtolinos is composed, by contraction, of two words which appear tobelong to one of the Thracian dialects.Œto-Kyros signifies the ruling sun,among the Scythians, according to Herodotus (l. iv., 59).Helena signifiedthe moon, among the Dorians. It is from this last word, deprived of itsarticlehe, that the Latins have madeLuna.

[33] Court de Gébelin,Monde primit., t. viii., p. 190. Pausanias,l. x.Conférez avec Æschyl.In Choephori,v. 1036;Eurip.,In Orest., v. 1330;Plat.,De Rep., l. iv., etc.

[34]Plut.,De Music. Tzetzes,Chiliads,vii.;Hist., 108.

[35]Amphion, in Greek Ἀμφίων, comes from the Phœnician words אמ (am),a mother-nation, a metropolis, פי (phi), a mouth, a voice, and יון (Jôn),Greece. Thence the Greeks have derived Ὀμφή, amother-voice, that is,orthodox, legal, upon which all should be regulated.

Thamyris, in Greek Θάμυρις, is composed of the Phœnician words תאמ(tham), twin, אור (aur), light, יש (ish), of the being.

[36]Plut.,De Music.

[37]Diod. Sicul., l. iii., 35.Pausan.,In Bœot., p. 585.

[38]Bibliotheca Græca,p. 4.

[39] Duhalde,t. iv.,in-fol., p. 65. These Tartars had no idea of poetry beforetheir conquest of China; also they imagined that it was only in China wherethe rules of this science had been formulated, and that the rest of the worldresembled them.

[40] Kien-long, one of the descendants of Kang-hi, has made good verse inChinese. This prince has composed an historical poem on the conquest of theEleuth, orOloth people, who, after having been a long time tributary to China,revolted. (Mém. concernant les Chin.,t. i., p. 329.)

[41] The commencement of the Indian Kali-youg is placed 3101 or 3102years before our era. Fréret has fixed it, in his chronological researches, atJanuary 16, 3102, a half hour before the winter solstice, in the colure of whichwas then found the first star of Aries. The Brahmans say that this age ofdarkness and uncleanness must endure 432,000 years.Kali signifies in Sanskrit,all that which is black, shadowy, material, bad. From there, the Latinwordcaligo; and the French word(galimatias); the last part of this word comesfrom the Greek word μῦθος, a discourse, which is itself derived from thePhœnician מוט (mot ormyt), which expresses all that moves, stirs up; amotion, a word, etc.

[42]Asiat. Research., t. ii., p. 140. The Brahmans say that their imperialdynasties, pontifical as well as laic, or solar and lunar, became extinguisheda thousand years after the beginning of theKali-youg, about 2000B.C. Itwas at this epoch that India was divided into many independent sovereigntiesand that a powerful reformer of the cult appeared in Magadha, who took thesurname ofBuddha.

[43]Herod., l. ii. This historian said that in the early times all Egypt wasa morass, with the exception of the country of Thebes; that nothing was seenof the land, which one saw there at the epoch in which he was writing, beyondLake Mœris; and that going up the river, during a seven days’ journey, allseemed a vast sea. This same writer said in the beginning of book i., andthis is very remarkable, that the Phœnicians had entered from the Red Seainto the Mediterranean, to establish themselves upon its shores, which theywould have been unable to do if the Isthmus of Suez had existed. See whatAristotle says on this subject,Meteorolog., l. i., c. 14.

[44]Asiat. Research., t. iii., p. 321. The excerpts that Wilford has made fromthePourana, entitledScanda, the God of War, prove that thePalis, calledPhilistines, on account of their same country,Palis-sthan, going out from India,established themselves upon the Persian Gulf and, under the name of Phœnicians,came afterwards along the coast of Yemen, on the borders of the RedSea, whence they passed into the Mediterranean Sea, as Herodotus said, accordingto the Persian traditions. This coincidence is of great historical interest.

[45] Niebuhr,Descript. de l’Arab., p. 164. Two powerful tribes became dividedin Arabia at this epoch: that of the Himyarites, who possessed themeridional part, or Yemen, and that of the Koreishites, who occupied the septentrionalpart, or Hejaz. The capital of the Himyarites was calledDhofar;their kings took the title ofTobba and enjoyed an hereditary power. TheKoreishites possessed the sacred city of Arabia, Mecca, where was found theancient temple still venerated today by the Mussulmans.

[46]Asiat. Research.,t. iii., p. ii.

[47] Diodorus Siculus,l. ii., 12. Strabo,l. xvi. Suidas,art.Semiramis.

[48]Phot.,Cod., 44.Ex. Diodor., l. xl. Syncell., p. 61.Joseph.,Contr.Apion.

[49]Hérod., l. ii. Diod. Siculus, l. i., § 2.

[50]Diodor. Sicul., l. i., § 2. Delille-de-Salles,Hist. des Homm., Egypte,t. iii., p. 178.

[51]Plat., in Tim. Dial.Theopomp.apud Euseb.,Præp. Evan., l. x., c. 10.Diod. Sicul., l. i.,initio.

[52]Diodor. Sicul., l. i.,initio.

[53]Pausan.,Bœot., p. 768.

[54] This word is Egyptian and Phœnician alike. It is composed of thewords אור (aur), light, and רפא (rophœ), cure, salvation.

[55] Eurydice, in Greek Εὐρυδίκη, comes from the Phœnician words ראה(rohe), vision, clearness, evidence, and דך (dich), that which demonstratesor teaches: these two words are preceded by the Greek adverb εὖ, whichexpresses all that is good, happy, and perfect in its kind.

[56]Plat.,In Phædon.Ibid.,In Panegyr.Aristot.,Rhet., l. ii., c. 24.Isocr.,Paneg. Cicero,De Leg., l. ii.Plutar.,De Isid.Paus.,In Phoc., etc.

[57] Théodoret,Therapeut.

[58] Philo,De Vitâ Mosis,l. i.

[59]Jamblic.,De Vitâ Pythag., c. 2.Apul.,Florid.,ii.Diog. Laërt., l. viii.

[60]Voyage du jeune Anacharsis,t. i.,Introd., p. 7.

[61] Meurs.,De Relig. Athen.,l. i., c. 9.

[62]Apollon., l. iii., p. 237.

[63]Hygin.,Fabl., 143.

[64]Pausan.,Arcad., p. 266, 268, etc.

[65] Strabo,l. x; Meurs.,Eleus., c. 21et seq.;Paus.,Ath.,c. 28;Fulgent.,Myth., l. i.;Philostr.,In Apollon., l. ii.;Athen.,l. xi.;Procl.,In Tim.Comment.,l. v.

[66]Euseb.,Præp. Evang., l. xiii., c. 12.

[67] The unity of God is taught in an Orphic hymn of which Justin, Tatian,Clement of Alexandria, Cyril, and Theodore have preserved fragments. (OrpheiHymn. Edente Eschenbach.,p. 242.)

[68]Clem. Alex.,Admon. ad Gent.,p. 48;ibid.,Strom., l. v., p. 607.

[69] Apoll.,Arg.,l. i.,v. 496;Clem. Alex.,Strom.,l. iv., p. 475.

[70] Thimothée, cité par Bannier,Mythol., i., p. 104.

[71] Macrobius,Somm. Scip.,l. i., c. 12.

[72]Eurip.,Hippol., v. 948.

[73]Plat.,De Leg., l. vi.;Jambl.,De Vitâ Pythag.

[74]Acad. des Insc., t. v., p. 117.

[75]Procl.,In Tim., l. v., p. 330; Cicero,Somm. Scip., c. 2, 3, 4, 6.

[76] Montesquieu and Buffon have been the greatest adversaries of poetry,they were very eloquent in prose; but that does not prevent one from applyingto them, as did Voltaire, the words of Montaigne: “We cannot attain it,let us avenge ourselves by slandering it.”

[77]Horat.,De Arte poét.;Strab., l. x.

[78] Origen,Contr. Cels.,l. i., p. 12; Dacier,Vie de Pythagore.

[79] Ἱερὸς λόγος.

[80] Θρονισμοὶ μητρῶοι.

[81]Fabric.,Bibl. græc., p. 120, 129.

[82]Apollon,Argon.,l. i., v. 496.

[83]Plutar.,De Placit. philos., c. 13;Euseb.,Præp. Evang., l. xv., c. 30;Stobeus,Eclog. phys., 54. Proclus quotes the verses of Orpheus on thissubject,In Tim.,l. iv., p. 283.Voyez La Biblioth. græc. de Fabricius,p. 132.

[84]Fabric.,Bibliot. græc., p. 4, 22, 26, 30, etc.;Voyag. d’Anach.,ch. 80.

[85] From the Greek word κύκλος: as one would saycircuit, the circularenvelopment of a thing.

[86] Court de Gébelin,Gén. allég., p. 119.

[87] Casaubon,In Athen.,p. 301;Fabric.,Bibl. græc.l. i., c. 17;Voyag.d’Anach.,ch. 80; Proclus, cité par Court de Gébelin,ibid.

[88]Arist.,De Poët., c. 8, 16, 25, etc.

[89] It is needless for me to observe that the birthplace of Homer has beenthe object of a host of discussions as much among the ancients as among themoderns. My plan here is not to put down again(en problème), nor to examineanew the things which have been a hundred times discussed and thatI have sufficiently examined. I have chosen, from the midst of all the divergentopinions born of these discussions, that which has appeared to me themost probable, which agrees best with known facts, and which is connectedbetter with the analytical thread of my ideas. I advise my readers to do thesame. It is neither the birthplace of Homer nor the name of his parents thatis the important matter: it is his genius that must be fathomed. Those whowould, however, satisfy their curiosity regarding these subjects foreign to myresearches, will find inLa Bibliothèque grecque de Fabricius, and in the bookby Léon Allatius entitledDe Patriâ Homeri, enough material for all the systemsthey may wish to build. They will find there twenty-six different locationswherein they can, at their pleasure, place the cradle of the poet. The sevenmost famous places indicated in a Greek verse by Aulus Gellius are, Smyrna,Rhodes, Colophon, Salamis, Chios, Argos, and Athens. The nineteen indicatedby divers authors, are Pylos, Chios, Cyprus, Clazomenæ, Babylon,Cumæ, Egypt, Italy, Crete, Ithaca, Mycenæ, Phrygia, Mæonia, Lucania,Lydia, Syria, Thessaly, and finally Troy, and even Rome.

However, the tradition which I have followed, in considering Homer asborn not far from Smyrna, upon the borders of the river Meles, is not onlythe most probable but the most generally followed; it has in its favour Pindar;the first anonymous Life of Homer; the Life of this poet by Proclus; Cicero,in his oration for Archias; Eustathius in hisProlégoménes sur l’Iliade; Aristotle,Poétique,l. iii.; Aulus Gellius, Martial, and Suidas. It is known thatSmyrna, jealous of consecrating the glory that it attributed to itself, of havinggiven birth to Homer, erected to this great genius a temple with quadrangularportico, and showed for a long time, near the source of the Meles, a grotto,where a contemporaneous tradition supposes that he had composed his firstworks.VoyezLa Vie d’Homère, par Delille-de-Sales,p. 49, et les ouvragesqu’il cite:Voyage de Chandeler,t. i., p. 162, etVoyages pittoresques de Choiseul-Gouffier,p. 200.

[90]Hérod., l. v., 42;Thucyd., l. i., 12.

[91]Marbres de Paros,Epoq. 28;Hérod., l. i., 142, 145, 149;Plat.,De Leg.,l. v.;Strab., l. xiv.;Pausan., l. vii., 2; Ælian.,Var. Histor., l. viii., c. 5;Sainte-Croix,De l’état des Colon, des anc. Peuples,p. 65;Bourgainville,Dissert.sur les Métrop. et les Colon.,p. 18; Spanheim,Præst., num.p. 580.

[92]Bible,Chron. ii., ch. 12(etsuiv.)

[93]Ibid.,Chron. ii., ch. 32 et 36.

[94] Pausanias,passim.

[95]Strab., l. xiv.;Polyb., l. v.;Aulu-Gell.,l. vii., c. 3; Meurs.,In Rhod.,l. i., c. 18 et 21;Hist. univ. des Anglais, in-8ᵒ, t. ii., p. 493.

[96]Diod. Sicul., l. i., 2.

[97] In Phœnician מלך־אתע (Melich-ærtz), in Greek Μελικέρτης: a name givento the Divinity whom the Thracians calledHercules, the Lord of the Universe:from הרר or שרר (harr orshar), excellence, dominance, sovereignty; and כל (col.),All. Notice that the Teutonic roots are not very different from the Phœnician:Herr signifies lord, andalles, all; so thatHerr-alles is, with the exception of theguttural inflection which is effaced, the same word as that ofHercules, usedby the Thracians and the Etruscans. The Greeks have made a transpositionof letters in Ἡρακλῆς (Heracles) so as to evade the guttural harshness withoutentirely losing it.

[98] Goguet,Origine des Lois et des Arts,t. i., p. 359.

[99](Voyez) Epiphane,Hæres,xxvi.,(et conférez avec) Beausobre,Hist. du Manich.,t. ii., p. 328.

[100] I have followed the tradition most analogous to the development of myideas; but I am aware that, upon this point, as upon many others, I have onlyto choose. The historic fact, in that which relates to the sacerdotal archiveswhich Homer consulted in composing his poems, is everywhere the same(aufond); but the accessory details vary greatly according to the writers who relatethem. For example, one reads in a small fragment attributed to Antipaterof Sidon and preserved in Greece Anthology, that Homer, born at Thebesin Egypt, drew his epic subjects from the archives of the temple of Isis; fromanother source, PtolemyEphestion, cited by Photius, that the Greek poet hadreceived from a priest of Memphis, namedThamitès, the original writings ofan inspired damsel, namedPhancy. Strabo, without mentioning any placein particular, said in general, speaking of the long journeys of Homer, thatthis poet went everywhere to consult the religious archives and the oraclespreserved in the temples; and Diodorus of Sicily gives evidence sometimesthat he borrowed many things from a sibyl by the name ofManto, daughterof Tiresias; and sometimes that he appropriated the verse of a pythoness ofDelphi, named Daphne. All these contradictory details prove, in reality,the truth; for whether it be from Thebes, Memphis, Tyre, Delphi, or elsewherethat Homer drew the subject of his chants, matters not with the subjectwhich occupies me: the important point, serving as proof of my assertions, is,that they have been, in fact, drawn from a sanctuary; and what has determinedme to choose Tyre rather than Thebes or Memphis, is that Tyre wasthe first mother city of Greece.

[101] I have said in the above that the name ofHelena orSelena was that ofthe moon in Greek. The root of this word is alike Celtic and Phœnician.One finds it in Teutonichell, which signifies clear, luminous, and in Hebrew הלל(hêll), which contains the same sense of splendour, glory, and elevation. Onestill says in Germanheilig, holy, andselig, blessed; alsoselle, soul, andsellen,souls. And this is worthy of the closest attention, particularly when onereflects that, following the doctrine of the ancients, the moonhelenê orselenêwas regarded as the reservoir of the souls of those who descend from heavento pass into bodies by means of generation, and, purged by the fire of life,escape from earth to ascend to heaven. See, concerning this doctrine, Plutarch(De Facie inOrb. Lun.), and confer with Beausobre (Histoire du Manich.,t, ii., p. 311). The name ofParis, in Greek Πάρις, comes from the Phœnicianwords בר or פר (bar orphar), all generation, propagation, extension, and יש (ish),the Being-principle.

The name ofMenelaus, in Greek Μενέλαος, comes from the Phœnicianwords מן (men), all that which determines, regulates, or defines a thing,properly, therational faculty, the reason, the measure, in Latinmens,mensura;and אוש (aôsh), the Being-principle acting, before which is placed the prefix ל (l),to express the genitive case, in this manner, מנה־ל־אוש (meneh-l-aôsh),the rational faculty or regulator of the being in general, and man inparticular: for אש‏, ‏אוש‏, ‏אש‏, ‏איש (ash,aôsh,ish,aîsh), signifies equallyfire,principle,being, andman. The etymology of these three words can, as onesees, throw great light upon the fable of theIliad. Here is another remarkablepoint on this subject. Homer has never used, to designate the Greeks, thename ofHellenes, that is to say, the respondents, or the lunars: it was in histime quite a new name, which the confederated Greeks had taken to resistforeign attack; it is only in theOdyssey, and when he is already old, that heemploys the nameHellas to designate Greece. The name which he givesconstantly to this country, is that of Achaia (Ἀχαΐα), and he opposes it tothat of Troy (Τρωία): now, Achaia signifies the strong, the igneous, thespiritual; andTroy, the terrestrial, the gross. The Phœnician roots are הוי (ehôi),the exhaling force of fire, and טרו (trô) the balancing power of theearth. Refer, in this regard, to Court de Gébelin(Mond. prim.,t. vi., p. 64).Pomponius Sabinus, in hisCommentaires sur l’Enéïde, said that the nameof the city of Troy signified a sow, and he adds that the Trojans had for anensign a sow embroidered in gold.

As to the wordIlion, which was the sacred name of Troy, it is very easyto recognize the name of the material principle, called ὕλη (ulè) by the Greeksandylis by the Egyptians. Iamblichus speaks of it at great length in hisBook on the Mysteries (§ 7), as the principle from which all has birth: this wasalso the opinion of Porphyry (Euseb.,Præp. Evang., l. ix., c. 9 and 11).

[102] Metrodorus of Lampsacus cited by Tatian (Adver. Gent.,§ 37). Plato,In Alcibiad.,ii., Cronius, Porphyry, Phurnutus, Iamblichus, cited by Courtde Gébelin,(Génie allég.),p. 36, 43;Plato,In Ion.;Cicero,De Natur. Deor., l. ii.; Strabo,l. i.; Origen,Contr. Cels. Among the moderns can be countedBacon, Blackwell, Basnage, Bergier, and Court de Gébelin himself, who hasgiven a list of eighty writers who have this opinion.

[103] Dionys. Halic.,De Comp. verb.,t. v., c. 16, 26; Quintil.,l. x., c. 1;Longin.,De Sublim.,c. 13;Ælian.,Var. Hist., l. viii., c. 2;Plat.,Alcibiad., i.

[104]Plat.,In Vitâ Lycurg.

[105]Allat.,De Patr. Homer., c. 5; Meurs.,In Pisist., c. 9 et 12;Plat.,In Hipparc.

[106]Senec.,Epist., 117.

[107]Ibidem, 88.

[108] Dionys. Halic.,In Vitâ Homer.;Eustath.,In Iliad,l. i.

[109] Strabo,l. xiv., p. 646.

[110]Arist.,De Poët., c. 2, cit. par Barth.,Voyag. d’Anach., t. vii., c. 80, p. 44.

[111] The wordEpopœia is taken from the Greek ἐπο-ποιός which designatesalike a poet and an epic poem. It is derived from the Phœnician words אפא(apho) an impassioned transport, a vortex, an impulse, an enthusiasm; and פאה (phohe),a mouth, a discourse. One can observe that the Latin wordversus, which is applied also to a thing which turns, which is borne along, andto a poetic verse, translates exactly the Greek word ἔπος, whose root אוף(aôph) expresses avortex. The Hebrew אופן (aôphon) signifies properly awheel.

[112] See in the collection of Meibomius, Aristides, Quintilianus, and(LesMém. de l’Acad. des Belles-Lettres),t. v., p. 152.

[113] Voltaire,(Dict. philos.),art.RIME.

[114] Refer to what I have already said in last footnotep. 40.

[115] Fréret said that the verses of the poet Eumelus engraven upon the archof the Cypselidæ were thus represented.Voyez sa(Dissert. sur l’Art del’Equitation). Il cite Pausanias,l. v., p. 419.

[116] Court de Gébelin,(Mond. primit.),t. ix., p. 222. Conférez avec Aristotle,Poët.,p. 20, 21, 22.

[117]Plat.,Dial. Ion.

[118]Plat.,ut suprà.

[119] Ælian.,Var. Hist., l. xiii., c. 14;Diog. Laërt.,In Solon.,l. i.,§ 57.

[120]Plat.,In Hipparc.; Pausan,l. vii., c. 26;Cicer.,De Orat.,l. iii.

[121]Eustath.,In Iliad.,l. i., p. 145;l. ii., p. 263.

[122] Dionys. Halic.,De Comp. verb.,t. v., c. 16 et 24;Quintil.,Instit.,l. x., c. 1.

[123] Athen.,l. xv., c. 8;Aristot.,De Poët.,c. 16; Ælian.,Var. Hist.,c. 15.

[124]Barthel.,(Voyag. d’Anarchar.),t. vii., ch. 80,p. 46, 52.

[125] It can be seen that I have placed in the word Stesi[`c]horus, anaccentgrave over the consonantc, and it will be noticed that I have used it thuswith respect to many similar words. It is a habit I have contracted in writing, soas to distinguish, in this manner, the double consonantch, in the foreign words,or in their derivatives, when it should take the guttural inflexion, in place ofthe hissing inflexion which we ordinarily give to it. Thus I accent the [`c] inChio, [`c]hœur, [`c]horus,é[`c]ho, [`c]hlorose, [`c]hiragre, [`c]hronique, etc.; to indicate thatthese words should be pronouncedKhio,khœur,khorus,ékho,khlorose,khiragre,khronique, with the aspirate sound ofk, and not with that of the hissingc,as inChypre,chaume,échope,chaire, etc. This accentuation has appeared tome necessary, especially when one is obliged to transcribe in modern charactersmany foreign words which, lacking usage, one knows not, at first, how topronounce. It is, after all, a slight innovation in orthography, which I leaveto the decision of the grammarians. I only say that it will be very difficultfor them, without this accent, or any other sign which might be used, to knowhow one should pronounce with a different inflexion,A[`c]haïe andAchéen;Achille andA[`c]hilleïde; Achêron anda[`c]hérontique;Bac[`c]hus andbachique, etc.

[126] Vossius,De Inst. poët.,l. iii., c. 15;Aristot.,Rhet., l. ii., 23;Max. Tyr.Orat.,viii., p. 86.

[127] Ælian.,Var. Hist., l. xiii., c. 14, Court de Gébelin,(Mond. prim.),t. viii.,p. 202.

[128]Plat.,In Theæt.;ibid.,De Republ., l. x.;Arist.,De Poët., c. 4, etc.

[129] The name of Homeridæ, given at first to all the disciples of Homer, wasafterwards usurped by certain inhabitants of Chios who called themselveshis descendants (Strab., l. xiv.;Isocr.,Hellen. encom.). Also I should statehere that the name of Homer, Ὅμηρος, was never of Greek origin and hasnot signified, as has been said,blind. The initial letter O is not a negation,but an article added to the Phœnician word מרא (mœra), which signifies,properly speaking, a centre of light, and figuratively, a master, a doctor.

[130] The surname Eumolpidæ, given to the hierophants, successors of Orpheus,comes from the word Εὔμολπος, by which is designated the style ofpoetry of this divine man. It signifiesthe perfect voice. It is derived fromthe Phœnician words מלא (mola), perfected, and פאה (phoh), mouth, voice,discourse. The adverb ἔυ, which precedes it, expresses whatever is beautiful,holy, perfect.

[131]Fabric.,Bibl. Græc., p. 36, 105, 240, 469,passim;Arist.,Probl., xix.,28; Meurs.,Bibl. Græc.,c. i.

[132]Arist.,De Poët., c. 8.

[133] Porphyre,In Vitâ Pythagor., p. 21;Clem. Alex., l. vi., p. 658; Plato,De Leg., l. iii.;Plutar.,De Music., p. 1141;Poll.,l. ii., c. 9.

[134] I have placed the epoch of Orpheus, which coincides with that of thearrival of the Egyptian colony conducted into Greece by Cecrops, at 1582B.C., according to the marbles of Paros.

[135] Schol.Aristoph.,In Nub.,v. 295.

[136] Athen.,l. ii., c. 3.

[137] Voyez(L’Hist. du Théâtre Français) de Fontenelle. Voici les titres despremières pièces représentées dans le cours du XIVᵉ siècle:(L’Assomption de laglorieuse Vierge Marie), mystère à 38 personnages;(Le Mystère de la Sainte Hostie),à 26 personn.;(Le Mystère de Monseigneur S. Pierre et S. Paul), à 100 personn.;(Les Mystères de la Conception de la Passion, de la Résurrection de Notre Seigneur J. C.); etc.

[138] SeeAsiatic Researches,v. iii., p. 427-431, and 465-467. AlsoGrammar ofthe Bengal Language, preface,p. v.

[139] SeeInteresting Historical Events, by Holwell,ch. 7.

[140]Aristot.,Probl., 15,c. 19;Pausan.,l. i., c. 7.

[141] SeeAsiatic Researches,vol. vi., p. 300-308.

[142] Rama is, in Sanskrit, the name of that which is dazzling, elevated, white,sublime, protective, beautiful, excellent. This word has exactly the same sensein the Phœnician רמ (ram). Its primitive root, which is universalized bythehémantique letter מ (m), is רא (ra), which has reference to the harmonicmovement of good, of light, and of sight. The name of the adversary ofRama,Rawhan, is formed from the root רע (rawh) which expresses, on thecontrary, the disordered movement of evil and of fire, and which, becomingunited with the augmentative syllable ון (ôn), depicts whatever ravages andruins; this is the signification which it has in Sanskrit.

[143] From the word רמא (rama) is formed in Phœnician the word דרמא(drama) by the adjunction of the demonstrative article ד (d’); that is to say,a thing which comes from Rama: an action well ordered, beautiful, sublime,etc. Notice that the Greek verb δραεῖν,to act, whence is drawn very inappropriatelythe word δρᾶμα, is always attached to the same root רא (ra)which is that of harmonic movement.

[144] Athen.,l. ii., c. 3;Arist.,De Poët.,c. 3, 4, 5.

[145]Tragedy, in Greek τραγῳδία, comes from the words τραχίς, austere,severe, lofty, and ὠδή chant.

Comedy, in Greek κωμῳδία, is derived from the words κῶμος, joyful, lascivious,and ὠδή, chant.

It is unnecessary for me to say that the etymologists who have seen intragedy a song of the goat, because τράγος signifies a goat in Greek, havemisunderstood the simplest laws of etymology. Τράγος signifies a goat onlyby metaphor, because of the roughness and heights which this animal lovesto climb; ascaper, in Latin, holds to the same root ascaput; andchèvre, inFrench, to the same root aschef, for a similar reason.

[146]Diog. Laërt., l. i., § 59.

[147]Plutar.In Solon.

[148]Arist.,De Mor., l. iii., c. 2; Ælian.,Var. Hist., l. v., c. 19;Clem. Alex.,Strom., l. ii., c. 14.

[149] Plato,De Legib.,l. iii.

[150] Athen.,l. viii., c. 8.

[151]Plutar.,De Music.

[152]Horat.,De Art. poët, v. 279; Vitrav.,In Prefac.,l. vii., p. 124.

[153] Æschylus,InPrometh., Act I., Sc. 1, et Act. V., Sc. ult.

[154] Æschylus,InEumenid., Act V., Sc. 3.

[155]Aristoph.In Plut.,v. 423;Pausan.,l. i., c. 28;Vitâ Æschyl. apud., Stanley,p. 702.

[156] Dionys. Chrys.,Orat.,l. ii.

[157]Aristoph.,In Ran.;Philostr.,In Vitâ Apollon,l. vi., c. ii.

[158]Plutar.,In Cimon.; Athen.,l. viii., c. 8.

[159]Philostr.,In Vitâ Apoll.,l. vi., c. ii.

[160] Schol.,In Vitâ Sophocl.; Suidas,In Σοφοκλ.;Plutar.,De Profect. Vitæ.

[161]Aristot.,De Poët., c. 25.

[162]Aristoph.,In Ran.,v. 874 et 1075.

[163]Philostr.,Vitâ Apoll.,l. ii., c. 2;l. ii., c. 16;l. vi., c. 11;Vitâ Æschyl.apud, Robort.,p. 11.

[164]Aristoph.,In Ran.;Aristot.,De Poët.,c. 25.

[165] Plato,DeLegib.,l. ii. et iii.

[166]Hérodot., l. vi., 21; Corsin.,Fast. attic.,t. iii., p. 172;Aristot.,De Poët.,c. 9.

[167]Aristot.,DePoët., c. 9.

[168] Susarion appeared 580B.C., and Thespis some years after. The latterproduced his tragedy of Alcestis in 536B.C.; and the condemnation of Socratesoccurred in 399B.C. So that only 181 years elapsed between the initial presentationof comedy and the death of this philosopher.

[169]Aristot.,De Poët.,c. 3.

[170] Aristoph,In Pac.,v. 740; Schol.,ibid.;Epicharm.,In Nupt. Heb.apud Athen.,l. iii., p. 85.

[171]Plat.,In Argum.;Aristoph. p. xi.; Schol.,De Comœd.;ibid.,p. xii.

[172] Thence arises the epithet ofEumolpique that I give to the verses whichform the subject of this work.

[173] The proof that Rome was scarcely known in Greece, at the epoch ofAlexander, is that the historian Theopompus, accused by all critics of toomuch prolixity, has said only a single word concerning this city, to announcethat she had been taken by the Gauls (Pliny,l. iii., c. 5). Bayle observeswith much sagacity, that however little Rome had been known at thattime, she would not have failed to furnish the subject of a long digressionfor this historian, who would have delighted much in it. (Dict. crit., art.Theopompus,rem. E.)

[174]Diogen. Laërt., l. i., § 116. Pliny,l. v., c. 29. Suidas,In Φερεκύδης.

[175] Degerando,(Hist. des Systêm. de Phil.), t. i., p. 128, à la note.

[176] Dionys. Halic.,De Thucid. Judic.

[177] The real founder of the Atomic system such as has been adopted byLucretius (De Rerum Natura,l. i.), was Moschus, Phœnician philosopherwhose works threw light upon those of Leucippus (Posidonius cité par Strabon,l. xvi.,Sext. Empiric.,Adv. mathem., p. 367). This system well understood,does not differ from that of the monads, of which Leibnitz was the inventor.

[178] Fréret,(Mytholog. ou Religion des Grecs).

[179] Voltaire, who has adopted this error, has founded it upon the significationof the wordEpos, which he has connected with that of Discourse (Dictionn.philos. au motEpopée). But he is mistaken. The Greek word ἔποςis translated accurately byversus. Thence the verb επεῖν, to follow in thetracks, to turn, to go, in the same sense.

[180] The Greeks looked upon the Latin authors and artists as paupers enrichedby their spoils; also they learned their language only when forced to doso. The most celebrated writers by whom Rome was glorified, were rarelycited by them. Longinus, who took an example of the sublime in Moses,did not seek a single one either in Horace or in Vergil; he did not even mentiontheir names. It was the same with other critics. Plutarch spoke of Ciceroas a statesman; he quoted many of his clever sayings, but he refrained fromcomparing him with Demosthenes as an orator. He excuses himself on accountof having so little knowledge of the Latin tongue, he who had lived solong in Rome! Emperor Julian, who has written only in Greek, cites onlyGreek authors and not one Latin.

[181](Apologie des hommes accusés de magie) l’ouvrage de Naudé, intitulé:(Apologie des hommes accusés de magie).Le nombre de ces hommes est très-considérable.

[182] Allard,(Bibl. du Dauphiné), à la fin.

[183] Duplessis-Mornai,(Mystère d’iniquité),p. 279.

[184] This Ballad tongue, or rather Romance, was a mixture of corrupt Latin,Teutonic, and ancient Gallic. It was called thus, in order to distinguish itfrom the pure Latin and French. The principal dialects of the Romancetongue were thelangue d’oc, spoken in the south of France, and thelongue d’oïl,spoken in the north. It is from thelangue d’oïl that the French descend.Thelangue d’oc, prevailing with the troubadours who cultivated it, disappearedwith them in the fourteenth century and was lost in numberless obscureprovincial dialects.Voyez(Le Troubadour), poésies occitaniques, à la Dissert.,vol. i.

[185] Fontenelle,(Hist. du Théâtre Français).

[186] Voyez Sainte-Palaye,(Mém. sur l’ancienne Cheval.); Millot,(Hist. desTroubad.)Disc. prélim., on ce que j’ai dit moi-même dans le(Troubadour),comme ci-dessus.

[187] It is necessary to observe thatvau orval,bau orbal, according to thedialect, signifies equally a dance, a ball, and a folly, a fool. The Phœnician,root רע (whal) expresses all that is elevated, exalted. The French words(bal),vol,fol, are here derived.

[188] The sonnets are of Oscan origin. The wordson signifies a song in theancientlangue d’oc. The wordsonnet is applied to a little song, pleasing andof an affected form.

The madrigals are of Spanish origin as their name sufficiently proves.The wordgala signifies in Spanish a kind of favour, an honour rendered, agallantry, a present. ThusMadrid-gala arises from a gallantry in the Madridfashion.

The sylves, calledsirves orsirventes by the troubadours, were kinds ofserious poems, ordinarily satirical. These words come from the Latinsylvawhich, according to Quintilius, is said of a piece of verse recitedex-tempore(l. x., c. 3).

[189]Voyez Laborde,Essai sur la Musique,t. i., p. 112, et t. ii., p. 168. Ontrouve, de la page 149 à la page 232 de ce même volume, un catalogue de tousles anciens romanciers français. On peut voir, pour les Italiens, Crescembini,Della Volgar Poësia.

[190] See Laborde. It is believed that this Guilhaume, bishop of Paris, is theauthor of the hieroglyphic figures which adorn the portal of Notre-Dame, andthat they have some connection with the hermetic science.((Biblioth. desPhil. Chim.).,t. iv. Saint-Foix, Essai(sur Paris).)

[191] Perhaps one is astonished to see that I give the name ofsirventes, orsylves, to that which is commonly called the poems of Dante; but in order tounderstand me, it is necessary to consider that these poems, composedof stanzas of three verses joined in couplets, are properly only long songs on aserious subject, which agrees with thesirvente. The poems of Bojardo, ofAriosto, of Tasso, are, as to form, only long ballads. They are poems becauseof the unity which, notwithstanding the innumerable episodes with whichthey are filled, constitutes the principal subject.

[192] Pasquier,(Hist. et Recherch. des Antiq.), l. vii., ch. 12. Henri-Etienne,(Précellence du Lang. Franç.),p. 12. D’Olivet,(Prosod.),art. i., § 2. Delisle-de-Salles,(Hist. de la Trag.), t. i., p. 154, à la note.

[193] D’Olivet,(Prosod.),art. V., § 1.

[194]Ibidem.

[195] William Jones,Asiatic Researches,vol. i.

[196]Ibid.,vol. i., p. 425.

[197] William Jones,Asiatic Researches,vol. i., p. 430.

[198] Wilkin’sNotes on the Hitopadesa,p. 249. Halled’sGrammar, in the preface.The same,Code of the Gentoo-Laws.Asiat. Research., vol. 1, page 423.

[199]Asiat. Research., vol. 1, page 346. Also in same work,vol. 1, page 430.

[200] W. Jones has put into English a Natak entitledSakuntala orThe FatalRing, of which the French translation has been made by Brugnières. Paris,1803, chez Treuttel et Würtz.

[201] SeeAsiat. Research., vol. iii., p. 42, 47, 86, 185, etc.

[202]Asiat. Research., vol. 1, page 279, 357 et 360.

[203]Institut. of Hindus-Laws. W. Jones,Works,t. iii., p. 51.Asiat. Research., vol. ii., p. 368.

[204](Hist. génér. de la Chine),t. i., p. 19.(Mém. concern. les Chinois),t. i., p. 9, 104, 160.Chou-King. Ch.Yu-Kong, etc., Duhalde,t. i., p. 266.(Mém. concern.), etc.,t. xiii., p. 190.

[205] TheShe-King, which contains the most ancient poetry of the Chinese,is only a collection of odes and songs, of sylves, upon different historicaland moral subjects. ((Mém. concer. les Chinois),t. i., p. 51, et t. ii., p. 80.)Besides, the Chinese had known rhyme for more than four thousand years.(Ibid.,t. viii., p. 133-185.).

[206] LeP. Parennin says that the language of the Manchus has an enormousquantity of words which express, in the most concise and most picturesquemanner, what ordinary languages can do only by aid of numerous epithetsor periphrases. (Duhalde,in-fol.,t. iv., p. 65.)

[207](Ci-dessus),p. 31.

[208](Voyez) la traduction française desRech. asiatiq., t. ii., p. 49, notesa etb.

[209]Voyez ce que dit de Zend, Anquetil Duperron, et l’exemple qu’il donnede cette ancienne langue.Zend-Avesta,t. i.

[210] D’Herbelot,Bibl. orient., p. 54.Asiat. Research., t. ii., p. 51.

[211] Anquetil Duperron,Zend-Avesta,t. i.

[212]Asiat. Research., t. ii., p. 51.

[213] L’abbé Massieu,Histor. de la Poésie franç., p. 82.

[214] In Arabic ديوان (diwan). ן‎א‎ו‎י‎ד

[215] D’Herbelot,Bibl. orient., au motDivan.Asiat. Research., t. ii., p. 13.

[216] It must be remarked that the wordDiw, which is also Persian, was alikeapplied in Persia to the Divine Intelligence, before Zoroaster had changedthe signification of it by the establishment of a new doctrine, which, replacingtheDiws by theIseds, deprived them of the dominion of Heaven, and representedthem as demons of the earth. See Anquetil Duperron,Vendidad-Sadè,p. 133,Boun-Dehesh.,p. 355. It is thus that Christianity has changedthe sense of the Greek word Δαίμων (Demon), and rendered it synonymouswith the devil; whereas it signified in its principle, divine spirit and genius.

[217]Asiat. Research., t. ii., p. 13.

[218]Voyez Anquetil Duperron,Zend-Avesta,t. iii., p. 527 et suiv.Voyez aussi un ouvrage allemand de Wahl, sur l’état de la Perse:Pragmatische-Geografischeund Statische Schilderung … etc. Leipzig, 1795,t. i., p. 198à 204.

[219] Voyez plusieurs de leurs chansons rapportées par Laborde,Essai sur laMusique,t. ii., p. 398.

[220] Laborde,ibid.,t. i., p. 425.

[221] I will give, later on, a strophe fromVoluspa, a Scandinavian ode ofeumolpiquestyle, very beautiful, and of which I will, perhaps, one day make anentire translation.

[222] It was said long ago that a great number of rhymed verses were found inthe Bible, and Voltaire even has cited a ridiculous example in hisDictionnairephilosophique (art.Rime):but it seems to me that before concerning oneselfso much as one still does, whether the Hebraic text of theSepher is in prose orin verse, whether or not one finds there rhymed verses after the manner ofthe Arabs, or measured after the manner of the Greeks, it would be well toobserve whether one understands this text. The language of Moses has beenlost entirely for more than two thousand four hundred years, and unless itbe restored with an aptitude, force, and constancy which is nowadays unusual,I doubt whether it will be known exactly what the legislator of the Hebrewshas said regarding the principles of the Universe, the origin of the earth, andthe birth and vicissitudes of the beings who people it. These subjects are,however, worth the pains if one would reflect upon them; I cannot preventmyself from thinking that it would be more fitting to be occupied with themeaning of the words, than their arrangements by long and short syllables,by regular or alternate rhymes, which is of no importance whatever.

[223] Vossius,De Poematum cantu et viribus rhythmi; cité par J. J. Rousseau,Dictionnaire de Musique,art.Rythme.

[224] Nearly all of the Italian words terminate with one of four vowels,a,e,i,o,without accent: it is very rare that the vowels are accentuated, as the vowelù. When this occurs as incità,perchè,dì,farò, etc., then, only, is the finalmasculine. Now here is what one of their best rhythmic poets, named Tolomèo,gives as an hexameter verse:

Questa, per affeto, tenerissima lettera mando

A te …

To make this line exact, one feels that the wordmando, which terminates it,should be composed of two longs, that is to say, that it should be writtenmandò, which could not be without altering the sense entirely. Marchettihas translated into blank verse the Latin poem of Lucretius. I will quote theopening lines. Here is evident the softness to which I take exception andwhich prevents them from being really eumolpique, according to the sensethat I have attached to this word.

Alma figlia di Giove, inclita madre

Del gran germe d’Enea, Venere bella,

Degli uomini piacere e degli Dei:

Tu, che sotto il volubili e lucenti

Segni del cielo, il mar profundo, e tutta

D’animai d’ogni specie orni la terra:

... etc.

[225] One must not believe that the mutee with which many English wordsterminate represents the French feminine final, expressed by the same vowel.This mutee is in reality mute in English; ordinarily it is only used to give amore open sound to the vowel which precedes it, as intale,scene,bone,pure,fire. Besides it is never taken into account, either in the measure or in theprosody of the lines. Thus these two lines of Dryden rhyme exactly:

“Now scarce the Trojan fleet with sails and oars

Had left behind the fair Sicilian shores.…”

Æneid,b. i., v. 50.

It is the same in these of Addison:

“Tune ev’ry string and ev’ry tongue,

Be thou the Muse and subject of our song.…”

St. Cecilia’s Day,i., 10.

or these from Goldsmith:

“How often have I loiter’d o’er thy green,

Where humble happiness endeared each scene.”

The Deserted Village, i., 7.

[226] There remains to us of this poetry the very precious fragments containedin theEdda and inVoluspa. TheEdda, whose name signifies great-grandmother,is a collection, fairly ample, of Scandinavian traditions.Voluspa isa sort of Sibylline book, or cosmogonic oracle, as its name indicates. I amconvinced that if the poets of the north, the Danes, Swedes, and Germans,had oftener drawn their subjects from these indigenous sources, they wouldhave succeeded better than by going to Greece to seek them upon the summitsof Parnassus. The mythology of Odin, descended from the Rhipæan mountains,suits them better than that of the Greeks, whose tongue furthermore isnot conformable here. When one makes the moon and the wife (der Mond,das Weib) of masculine and neuter gender; when one makes the sun, the air,time, love (die Sonne,die Luft,die Zeit,die Liebe) of feminine gender, oneought wisely to renounce the allegories of Parnassus. It was on account ofthe sex given to the sun and the moon that the schism arose, of which I havespoken, in explaining the origin of the temple of Delphi.

The Scandinavian allegories, however, that I consider adébris of Thracianallegories, furnishing subjects of a very different character from those of theGreeks and Latins, might have varied the poetry of Europe and preventedthe Arabesque fiction from holding there so much ascendancy. The Scandinavianverses, being without rhyme, hold moreover, to eumolpœia. Thefollowing is a strophe fromVoluspa:

“Avant que le temps fût, Ymir avait été;

Ni la mer, ni nes vents n’existaient pas encore;

Il n’était de terre, il n’était point de ciel:

Tout n’était qu’un abîme immense, sans verdure.”

“In the beginning, when naught was, there

Was neither sand nor sea nor the cold waves,

Nor was earth to be seen nor heaven above.

There was a Yawning Chasm [chaos] but grass nowhere.…”

Ár vas aida pat-es ekki vas;

vasa sandr né sær né svalar unnir,

iœr[=x]o fansk æva né upp-himinn;

Gap vas Ginnunga, enn gras ekki, …

Voyez Mallet,Monuments celtiques,p. 135; et pour le texte, le poëme mêmede la Voluspa,in Edda islandorum, Mallet paraît avoir suivi un texte erroné.

As to the Gallic poetry of the Scotch bards, that Macpherson has madeknown to us under the name ofOssian, much is needed that they may have asufficient degree of authenticity for them to be cited as models, and placedparallel with those of Homer, as has been done without reflection. Thesepoems, although resting for the greater part upon a true basis, are very farfrom being veritable as to form. The Scotch bards, like the Oscan troubadours,must be restored and often entirely remade, if they are to be read.Macpherson, in composing hisOssian, has followed certain ancient traditions,has put together certain scattered fragments; but has taken great libertieswith all the rest. He was, besides, a man endowed with creative genius andhe might have been able to attain to epopœia if he had been better informed.His lack of knowledge has left a void in his work which demonstrates itsfalsity. There is no mythology, no allegory, no cult inOssian. There aresome historic or romanesque facts joined to long descriptions; it is a stylemore emphatic than figurative, more bizarre than original. Macpherson,in neglecting all kinds of mythological and religious ideas, in even mockinghere and there thestone of power of the Scandinavians, has shown that hewas ignorant of two important things: the one, that the allegorical or religiousgenius constitutes the essence of poetry; the other, that Scotland was at avery ancient period the hearth of this same genius whose interpreters werethe druids, bards, and scalds. He should have known that, far from beingwithout religion, the Caledonians possessed in the heart of their mountains,the Gallic Parnassus, the sacred mountain of the Occidental isles; and thatwhen the antique cult began to decline in Gaul, it was in Albion, reckonedamong the holy isles by even the Indians, that the druids went to study.VoyezLes Commentaires de César,iv., 20;L’Introduction de l’histoire de Danemark,par Mallet;L’Histoire des Celtes, par Pelloutier; et enfin lesRecherchesasiatiques (Asiat. Research.),t. vi., p. 490 et 502.

In order to seize the occasion of applying eumolpique lines to a greaternumber of subjects, I am going to quote a sort of exposition of Ossian, theonly one I believe, which is found in his poems; because Macpherson, for moreoriginality, neglected nearly always to announce the subject of his songs.I will not give the text, because the English translation whence I obtained itdoes not give it. It concerns the battle of Lora. After a kind of exordiumaddressed to the son of the stranger, dweller of the silent cavern, Ossian saidto him:

Le chant plaît-il à ton oreille?

Ecoute le récit du combat de Lora.

Il est bien ancien, ce combat! Le tumulte

Des armes, et les cris furieux des guerriers,

Sont couverts par un long silence;

Ils sont éteints depuis longtemps:

Ainsi sur des rochers retentissants, la foudre

Roule, gronde, éclate et n’est plus;

Le soleil reparaît, et la cime brillante

Des coteaux verdoyants, sourit à ses rayons.

Son of the secret cell! dost thou delight in songs?

Hear the battle of Lora.

The sound of its steel is long since past.

So thunder on the darkened hill roars, and is no more.

The sun returns with his silent beams,

The glittering rocks, and green heads of the mountains smile.

This example serves to prove that eumolpique lines might easily adaptthemselves to the dithyramb.

[227] The tragedy of theCid, given by Pierre Corneille in 1626, upon whichwere based the grandeur and dominant character of the Théâtre Français,as well as the renown of the author, is taken from a Spanish ballad very celebratedin Spain. The Cid, who is the hero of it, lived towards the close of theeleventh century. He was a type of the paladins and knights errant of theromanesque traditions. He enjoyed a wide reputation and attained a highdegree of fortune.Voyez Monte-Mayor,Diana,l. ii.; et Voltaire,Essai surles Mœurs,t. iii., stéréotype,p. 86.

In the course of the sixteenth century, the Spanish held a marked superiorityover the other peoples: their tongue was spoken at Paris, Vienna, Milan,Turin. Their customs, their manners of thought and of writing, subjugatedthe minds of the Italians, and from Charles V. to the commencement of thereign of Philip III., Spain enjoyed an importance that the other peoples neverhad.Voyez Robertson,Introduction à l’Histoire de Charles-Quint.

It would be necessary to overstep considerably the ordinary limits of afootnote, if I should explain how it happens that Spain has lost this supremacyacquired by her, and why her tongue, the only one capable of rivalling andperhaps effacing the French, has yielded to it in all ways, and by which it waseclipsed. This explanation would demand for itself alone a very lengthywork. Among the writers who have sought for the cause of the decadenceof the Spanish monarchy, some have believed to discover it in the increase ofits wealth, others, in the too great extent of its colonies, and the greater part,in the spirit of its government and its superstitious cult. They have allthought that the tribunal of the Inquisition alone was capable of arresting theimpulse of genius and of stifling the development of learning. In this theyhave taken effects for causes, and consequences for principles. They havenot seen that the spirit of the government and the cult is always not the motive,but the result of the national spirit, and that the wealth and the colonies,indifferent in themselves, are only instruments that this spirit employs forgood or evil, according to its character. I can only indicate the first causewhich has prevented Spain from reaching the culminating point which Franceis very near to attaining. This cause is pride. Whilst Europe, envelopedin darkness, was, so to speak, in the fermentation of ignorance, Spain, conqueredby the Arabs, received a germ of science which, developing with rapidity,produced a precocious fruit, brilliant, but like hot-house fruit lackinginternal force and generative vigour. This premature production havingraised Spain abruptly above the other European nations, inspired in her thatpride, that excessiveamour propre, which, making her treat with contemptall that did not belong to her, hindered her from making any change in herusual customs, carried her with complacency in her mistakes, and when otherpeoples came to bring forth fruits in their season, corrupted hers and stampedher with a stationary movement, which becoming necessarily retrogressive,must ruin her, and did ruin her.

[228] In comparing the first lines of Homer with those of Klopstock, it is seenthat the Greek contains 29 letters, 18 of which are vowels; and the German48 letters, 31 of which are consonants. It is difficult with such disparity inthe elements to make the harmony the same.

[229] GOLDEN VERSES OF THE PYTHAGOREANS (1)

PREPARATION

Render to the Immortal Gods the consecrated cult;

Guard then thy faith (2): Revere the memory

Of the Illustrious Heroes, of Spirits demi-Gods (3).

[230] PURIFICATION

Be a good son, just brother, spouse tender and good father (4)

Choose for thy friend, the friend of virtue;

Yield to his gentle counsels, profit by his life,

And for a trifling grievance never leave him (5);

If thou canst at least: for a most rigid law

Binds Power to Necessity (6).

Still it is given thee to fight and overcome

Thy foolish passions: learn thou to subdue them (7).

Be sober, diligent, and chaste; avoid all wrath.

In public or in secret ne’er permit thou

Any evil; and above all else respect thyself (8).

Speak not nor act before thou hast reflected.

Be just (9). Remember that a power invincible

Ordains to die (10); that riches and the honours

Easily acquired, are easy thus to lose (11).

As to the evils which Destiny involves,

Judge them what they are: endure them all and strive,

As much as thou art able, to modify the traits:

The Gods, to the most cruel, have not exposed the Sage (12).

Even as Truth, does Error have its lovers:

With prudence the Philosopher approves or blames;

If Error triumph, he departs and waits (13).

Listen and in thine heart engrave my words;

Keep closed thine eye and ear ’gainst prejudice;

Of others the example fear; think always for thyself (14):

Consult, deliberate, and freely choose (15).

Let fools act aimlessly and without cause.

Thou shouldst, in the present, contemplate the future (16).

That which thou dost not know, pretend not that thou dost.

Instruct thyself: for time and patience favour all (17).

Neglect not thy health (18): dispense with moderation,

Food to the body and to the mind repose (19).

Too much attention or too little shun; for envy

Thus, to either excess is alike attached (20).

Luxury and avarice have similar results.

One must choose in all things a mean just and good (21).

[231]
PERFECTION

Let not sleep e’er close thy tired eyes

Without thou ask thyself: What have I omitted and what done? (22).

Abstain thou if ’tis evil; persevere if good (23).

Meditate upon my counsels; love them; follow them;

To the divine virtues will they know how to lead thee (24).

I swear it by the one who in our hearts engraved

The sacred Tetrad, symbol immense and pure,

Source of Nature and model of the Gods (25).

But before all, thy soul to its faithful duty,

Invoke these Gods with fervour, they whose aid,

Thy work begun, alone can terminate (26).

Instructed by them, naught shall then deceive thee:

Of diverse beings thou shalt sound the essence;

And thou shalt know the principle and end of All (27).

If Heaven wills it, thou shalt know that Nature,

Alike in everything, is the same in every place (28):

So that, as to thy true rights enlightened,

Thine heart shall no more feed on vain desires (29).

Thou shalt see that the evils which devour men

Are of their choice the fruit (30); that these unfortunates

Seek afar the goodness whose source within they bear (31).

For few know happiness: playthings of the passions,

Hither, thither tossed by adverse waves,

Upon a shoreless sea, they blinded roll,

Unable to resist or to the tempest yield (32).

God! Thou couldst save them by opening their eyes (33).

But no: ’tis for the humans of a race divine

To discern Error and to see the Truth (34).

Nature serves them (35). Thou who fathomed it,

O wise and happy man, rest in its haven.

But observe my laws, abstaining from the things

Which thy soul must fear, distinguishing them well;

Letting intelligence o’er thy body reign (36);

So that, ascending into radiant Ether,

Midst the Immortals, thou shalt be thyself a God.

[232]Hiérocl.,Comment. in Aur. Carmin. Proem.

[233]Fabric.,Bibl. græc., p. 460; Dacier,Remarq. sur les Comm. d’Hiéroclès.

[234]Jamblic.,De Vitâ Pythag., c. 30 et 33; Plutarch,De Gen. Socrat.

[235] Plutarch,De Repug. stoïc.;Diog. Laërt., l. viii., § 39;Polyb., l. ii.; Justin.,l. xx., c. 4; Vossius,De Phil. sect., c. 6.

[236]Hiérocl.,Aur. Carm.,v. 71.

[237]Voyez Dacier,Rem. sur le Comment. d’Hiérocl.

[238]Plut.,De Gen. Socr.;Ælian.,Var. Hist., l. ii., c. 7.

[239] Bacon,Novum Organum,Aph., 65 et 71.

[240]Asiat. Res., t. iii., p. 371 à 374.

[241]Mém. concern. les Chin., t. ii., p. 26.

[242]Eulma Esclam. Note du Boun-Dehesh,p. 344.

[243]Porphyr.,De Antr. Nymph., p. 126.

[244]Αὐτὸν δ’ οὐχ ὁράω περὶ γὰρ νέφος ἐστήρικται.Voyez Dacier, dans sesRemarquessur lesComment. d’Hiérocl.

[245]VitâPythagor.;Phot.,Cod., 259;Macrob.,Somn. Scip., l. i., c. 6, l. ii., c. 12;August.,De Civit. Dei,l. ii., c. 9 et 11;Euseb.,Præp. Evang., l. iii., c. 9;Lactant.,De Fals. Relig.,l. i., c. 6 et 7;Plot.,Ennead., iii., l. ii.

[246]Plutar.,De Isid. et Osirid.,p. 377.

[247] The priests of the Burmans, calledRahans, but whose generic name isthat ofSramana, whence came to them that of Sramaneras, which the ancientsgave them, carry the spirit of tolerance as far as possible. They visitwith the same devotion pagodas, mosques, and churches; never does one seethem being persecuted, nor persecuting others in the cause of religion. TheBrahmans, Mussulmans, and Christians occupy important posts among themwithout their being scandalized. They regard all men as brothers. (Asiat.Research., t. vi., pp. 274-279). The Brahmans are of the same mind. Onereads these wonderful words in theBhaghavad Gita: “A great diversity ofcults, similar as to substance but varying in forms, are manifested by the willof the Supreme Being. Some follow one cult, others attach themselves toanother: all of these worshippers are purified from their offences by theirparticular cult.… God is the gift of charity, God is the offering, Godis the fire upon the altar; it is God even, who makes the sacrifice, and God willbe obtained by him who makes God the sole object of his labours.” (Lect.iv.)

[248]Hiérocl.,Aur. Carm., v. 1.

[249] The Greek word κόσμος expresses a thing put in order, arranged accordingto a fixed and regular principle. Its primitive root is in the Phœnician אוש(aôsh) a principle Being,the fire. The Latin wordmundus renders the Greeksense very imperfectly. It signifies exactly, that which is made neat andclean by means of water. Its nearest root isunda, and its remotest root isfound in the Phœnician אוד (aôd), an emanation, a vapour, a source. Onecan see, according to this etymology, that the Greeks drew the idea of orderand beauty from fire, and the Latins from water.

[250] Diogen. Laërt., l. viii., § 25;Plutar.,De Decret. philos.,ii., c. 6;Sext. Empir.,Adv. Math., x., § 249; Stob.,Eccl. phys.,p. 468.

[251]Plutar.,In Numa.

[252]Jambl.,Vitâ Pythag., c. 28, 32 et 35.

[253] Εν, δύο. The symbol of Fo-Hi, so celebrated among the Chinese, isthe same and is expressed by a whole line — 1, and a broken line - - 2. I shallmake myself better understood upon this subject, in speaking as I intend todo upon music and upon what the ancients understood by the language ofNumbers.

[254]VitâPythag.;Phot.,Bibl. Codex, 259.

[255]Vie dePythag. par Dacier.

[256]Hiérocl.,Aurea Carmin.,v. 1.

[257] Ci-devant,p. 81.

[258] Timée de Locres,ch. 3;Edit. de Batteux,§ 8;Diod. Sicul., l. ii., p. 83;Herod., l. ii., c. 4; Hyde,De vet. Pers. Relig., c. 19; Plato,In Tim.,In Phæd.,In Legib., etc.

[259] Bailly,Hist. de l’Astr. anc., l. iii., § 10.

[260] Pythagoras, at an early age, was taken to Tyre by Mnesarchus, hisfather, in order to study there the doctrine of the Phœnicians; later he visitedEgypt, Arabia, and Babylon, in which last city he remained twelve years.It was while there that he had frequent conferences concerning the principleof things with a very learned magian whom Porphyry names Zabratos;Plutarch, Zaratas; and Theodoret, Zaradas. (Porphyr.,Vitâ Pythag.) Plutarchis inclined to believe that this magian is the same as Zardusht, or Zoroaster,and the chronology is not here entirely contrary.(Plutar.,De Procreat. anim.;Hyde,De Relig. vet. Pers., c. 24, o. 309 et c. 31,p. 379.)

[261]Asiat. Research., t. vi., p. 174.

[262] Holwell’s,Histor. Interest. Events,ch.iv., § 5.

[263] Beausobre,Hist. du Manich.,t. i., p. 164.

[264]Macrob.,Somn. Scip., l. i., c. 11.

[265] Böhme,Les Six Points,ch. 2.

[266] The word קבל signifies, in Hebrew, Arabic, and Chaldean, that whichis anterior, that which one receives from the ancients by tradition.

[267]AureaCarm.,v. 48.

[268] Synes,Hymn.,iii., v. 174;Hymn.,iv., v. 68.

[269] Beausobre,Hist. du Manich.,t. i., p. 572.

[270] The wordEon, in Greek Αἰών, is derived from the Egyptian or Phœnicianאי (aï), a principle of will, a central point of development, and יון (ion),the generative faculty. This last word has signified, in a restricted sense, adove, and has been the symbol of Venus. It is the famousYoni of the Indiansand even theYn of the Chinese: that is to say, the plastic nature of the Universe.From there, the name ofIonia, given to Greece.

[271]Herm. Trismég., c. 11.

[272]Plutar. cité par le père Petau.Notes in Synes,p. 42.

[273]Clem. Alex.,Eclog. Theod., § 30.

[274]Hist. du Manich., t. i., p. 572.

[275] Gods, Heroes, and Demons signify in the Greek words Θεός, Ἥρωες,Δαίμων, whence they are derived, the Principle-Beings attained to perfection;the ruling Principle-Beings; Terrestrial Existences. The word Θεός is formedfrom the word אוש (aôs), a Principle-Being, preceded by thehemantiqueletter ת (θ,th), which is the sign of perfection. The word Ἥρωες is composedof the same word אוש (aôs), preceded by the word הרר (herr), expressingall that rules. The word Δαίμων comes from the ancient word Δῆμ,land, united with the word ὤν, existence.

[276] Κάθαρσις καὶ τελειότης.

[277] Lil. Greg. Gyral.,Pythag. Symb. Interpret.,p. 92.

[278]ApudPhot. Cod., 249.

[279]Dict. Crit., art.Pythagoras,rem. Q.

[280] Not long since, a man rather well organized mentally, but very slightlyenlightened by the true science, brought out a book entitledRuverabhoni, inwhich, heaping up all the ancient and modern sophisms pronounced againstthe social organization founded upon the establishment of the family, heaspired to change the instinct of nature, in this respect, and to foundtruehappiness upon thedébris of all the ties of blood, of all the affections of thesoul, and of all the duties of consanguinity.

[281] As I give the same meaning as did Moses and not that of theSeptuagintcopied by theVulgate, I transcribe here the original text, so that those whounderstand Hebrew may see that I have not deviated from it.

כבד את־אביך ואת־אמך למען יאר כון ימיך על האדמה אשר־יהוה אלהיך נתן לך

Exodus,ch. 20,v. 12.

[282]This country of Adam, in Hebrew האדמה (ha-adamah),adaméenne.This word, which has been vulgarly translated bythe Earth, signifies it onlyby metaphor. Its proper sense, which is very difficult to grasp, dependsalways on that which is attached to the name of Adam, whence it is derived.Jhôah, in Hebrew יהוה , pronounced very improperlyJehovah, on account ofa defective punctuation of the Masoretes, is the proper name ofGod. Thisname was formed by Moses in a manner as ingenious as sublime, by means ofthe contraction of the three tenses of the verb הוה (hôeh), to be. It signifiesexactlywill be-being-been; that which is, was, and shall be. One rendersit well enough byEternal. It is Eternity, or the Time-without-Limit ofZoroaster. This name is quite generally followed, as it is here, with the words אלהיך(Ælohî-cha), thy Gods, in order to express that the Unity contained inJhôah, comprehends the infinity of the gods, and takes the place of it withthe people of Israel.

[283]Mémoiresconcern. les Chinois,t. iv., p. 7.

[284]Mém. concern. les Chinois, ibid.

[285] Nemesis, in Greek Νέμεσις, is derived from the Phœnician words נאמ(nam ornæm), expressing every judgment, every order, every decree announcedby word of mouth; and אשיש (æshish), all that serves for principle, as foundation.This last word has root אש (as,os, oræs).

[286]Hiao-King, ouLivre de la Piété filiale.

[287] Kong-Tzée, dans leHiao-King qui contient sa doctrine.

[288]Hiérocl.,Comment. Aurea. carmin.,v. 5.

[289] Hiéroclès,ibid.,v. 7.

[290]Porphyr.,in Vitâ Pythag., p. 37.

[291] Dacier,Vie dePythag.

[292]Diog. Laërt., l. v., § 21.

[293]Hiérocl.,Aurea. carm.,v. 8.

[294]Evang. de S. Math.,ch. 22.

[295]Zend-Avesta, 30ᵉhâ,p. 164;ibid., 34ᵉhâ,p. 174;ibid., 72ᵉhâ,p. 258.

[296]Vie de Confucius,p. 139.

[297]Herm. Trismeg.,In Pœmand.

[298] Senac.,De Sen.,vi., 2.

[299]Aul. Gell., l. vi., c. 2.

[300]Plutar.,De repugn. Stoïc. de Fato.

[301] Chalcidius,inTim.,not. 295,p. 387.

[302]Hist. du Manich., t. ii., l. v., ch. 6,p. 250.

[303]Dict. crit.,Manicheens,rem. D.

[304] Cicéron,Tuscul.,l. i.;Clem. Alex.,Strom., l. v., p. 501.

[305] Justin.,Cohort ad Gent.,p. 6; Cyrill.,Contr. Julien;Fabric.,Bibl. græc., t. i., p. 472.

[306]Plutar.,De Procr. anim.

[307]Plat.,Epist., 2 et 7,t. iii., p. 312, 313, 341, etc.

[308]Voyez l’excellent ouvrage de Beausobre à ce sujet,L’Histoire du Manichéisme.

[309] When Zoroaster spoke of this Cause, he gave it the name ofTimewithout Limit, following the translation of Anquetil Duperron. This Causedoes not still appear absolute in the doctrine of this theosophist; because in apassage of theZend-Avesta, where in contemplation of the Supreme Being,producer of Ormuzd, he calls this Being,the Being absorbed in excellence,and says that Fire, acting from the beginning, is the principle of union betweenthis Being and Ormuzd (36ᵉhâ du Vendidad Sadé,p. 180, 19ᵉfargard,p. 415).One finds in another book, calledSharistha, that when this Supreme Beingorganized the matter of the Universe, he projected his Will in the form of aresplendent light (Apud Hyde,c. 22,p. 298).

[310]InTim.,not. 295.

[311]Voyez Photius,Cod., 251. Plotin, Porphyre, Jamblique, Proclus etSymplicius ont été du même sentiment qu’ Hiéroclès, ainsi que le dit le savantFabricius,"Bibl. græc., t. i., p. 472.

[312]Iliad,L. ult.,v. 663.

[313]Cicér.,de Natur. Deor., l. i., c. 15.

[314]Cicér.,de Fato,c. 17.

[315]Axiômes de Pythagore conservés par Stobée,Serm. 6.

[316]Hiérocl.,Aur. Carm.,v. 10 et 11.

[317]Strab., 1. xvi., p. 512;Sext. Empir.,Adv. Mathem., p. 367.

[318]Atom, in Greek ἄτομος, is formed from the word τόμος,a part, to whichis joined thea privative.

[319] Huet,Cens. Phil. Cartesian., c. 8,p. 213. If one carefully examines thesystems of Descartes, Leibnitz, and Newton, one will see that, after all, theyare reduced either to atoms, or to inherent forces which move them.

[320]Cicér.,de Fato,c. 17.

[321]August.,Epist., 56.

[322]August.,Epist., 56.

[323]Cicér.,de Nat. Deor., l. i., c. 19;Quæst. Acad., l. ii., c. 13;de Fato, c. 9.

[324]Diog. Laërt., l. x., §123;Cicér.,de Nat. Deor., l. i., c. 30.

[325]Senec.,Epist., 88;Sext. Empir.,Adv. Math., l. vii., c. 2;Arist.,Métaphys., l. iii., c. 4.

[326]Arist.,Physic., l. vi., c. 9;voyez Bayle,Dict. crit., art.Zenon,rem. F.

[327]Cicér.,de Natur. Deor., l. i., c. 15.

[328]Semel jussit, semper paret, Seneca has said. “The laws which God hasprescribed for Himself,” he adds, “He will never revoke, because they havebeen dictated by His own perfections; and that the same plan, the same designhaving pleased Him once, pleases Him eternally” (Senec.,nat.).

[329]Cicer.,De Fato, cap. 17.

[330]Cicer.,ibid.,c. 9.

[331]Aul. Gell., l. vi., c. 2.

[332]Cicer.,De Nat. Deor., l. i., c. 9;Plutar.,De repug. Stoïc.;Diogenian.Apud.;Euseb.,Præp. Evang., l. vi., c. 8.

[333]Herodot.,Euterp., § 171; Julian Firm.,De Error, prof.,p. 45.

[334] Meurs.,Græc. Feriat., l. i.;Plutar.,In Alcibiad.;Porphyr.,De Abst., l. ii., § 36;Euseb.,Præp. Evang., l. i., c. 1; Schol. Apoll.,l. i.,v. 917;Pausan.,Corinth,p. 73.

[335]Porphyr.,Vitâ Pythag., p. 10.

[336] The doctrine of Krishna is found especially recorded in theBhaghavadGita, one of the Pouranas most esteemed by the Brahmans; in theZend-Avestaand in theBoun-Dehesh, that of Zoroaster. The Chinese have theTchun-Tsieou of Kong-Tse, historic monument raised to the glory of Providence;in thePœmander andÆsculapius, the ideas of Thoth. The book ofSynesius upon Providence contains the dogmas of the Mysteries. Finally onecan consult in the course of theEdda, the sublime discourse of Odin, entitledHavamâl. The basis of all these works is the same.

[337] This, as I observed in my Second Examination, should be understoodonly by the vulgar. The savant and the initiate easily restored to Unitythis infinity of gods, and understood or sought the origin of evil, without theknowledge of which, divine Unity is inexplicable.

[338] Talès, cité par Platon,De Republ., l. x.;Aristot.,Metaph., l. iii.;Cicer.,Acad. Quæst., iv., c. 37.

[339] Anaximandre, cité parAristot.,Phys.,l. i.;Sext. Empir.,Pyrr., iii.

[340] Anaximène, cité parArist.,Metaph., l. i., c. 3;Plutar.,De Placit. Phil., i., 3.

[341] Héraclite, cité par Platon,Theætet.;Arist.,Metaph., l. i., c. 6;Sext. Empir.,Adv. Math., l. vii.

[342] De Gérando,Hist. des Syst. de Phil., t. iii., p. 283;Arist.,Metaph., l. i., c. 6;Diog. Laërt., l. ix., c. 19.

[343]Cicer.,De Nat. Deor., l. i., c. 9.

[344]Boët.,De Consol., l. i., prosa 4.

[345]Plutar.,Adv. Stoïc.,p. 1075.

[346]Cicer.,De Fato, c. 10;Lucret., l. ii., v. 216, 251, 284.

[347]Cicer.,De Fato, c. 9 et 17;Diogenian.,Apud.;Euseb.,Præp. Evan., l. vi., c. 8.

[348]Cicer.,De Natur. Deor., l. iii., c. 38 et 39.

[349]Aul. Gell., l. vi., c. 1.

[350]Plutar.,Adv. Stoïc.

[351] The name given to the sect of the Pharisees signifies, in general, thatwhich is enlightened, illumined, glorified, illustrious. It is derived from theroot אור (aor), the light, governed by the article פה (phe), which expressesthe emphasis; thence פאר (phær), an aureola, a tiara, and פרתמים (pharethmim),men illustrious, sublime. The name given to the sect of the Sadduceesis derived from the word שד (shad) which, expressing all diffusion,all propagation, is applied to productive nature in general, and in particularto a mammal, its symbol among the Egyptians; it signifies properly thePhysicists, or the Naturalists.

[352] The original name of the Book of Moses is ספר (sepher); the name oftheBible, that we attribute to it, is derived from the Greek Βίβλος, adoptedby the so-called translators of the Septuagint.

[353]Joseph.,Antiq., l. xii., c. 22;l. xiii., c. 9 et 23; l. xvii., c. 3; Budd,Introd. ad Phil. Hebr.; Basnage,Histoire des Juifs,t. i.

[354] This is founded upon a great number of passages, of which it will sufficeto cite the following. One finds in Amos,ch. iii., v. 6: “Shall there be evil ina city which the Lord hath not done?” And in Ezekiel,ch. xxi., v. 3: “Andsay to the land of Israel, Thus saith the Lord God: Behold, I come againstthee, and I will draw forth my sword out of its sheath, and will cut off in theethe just, and the wicked … against all flesh, from the south even to thenorth.… That all flesh may know that I the Lord have drawn my sword.”

[355] Mohammed said of himself, that he possessed no heavenly treasures,that he was ignorant of the mysteries, that he could say nothing of the essenceof the soul (Koran,ch. 6 and 17);and as he admitted the literal text of theSepher, he could not do otherwise than announce predestination. “God,”he said, “holds in his hands the keys of the future. He alone knows it.…The nations know not how to retard or to hasten the moment of their downfall”(Koran,ch. 6 and 23).

[356]VitâPythag.; Photius,Bibl. Cod., 259.

[357] Kircher,Œdip., t. i., p. 411;Edda Island Fabl.;Macrob.,Saturn., l. i., c. 20.

[358] Plotin,Ennead., iii., 1. 2;Euseb.,Prœp. Evan., l. iii., c. 9;Macrob.,Somn. Schip., l. ii., c. 12;Marc. Aurell., l. iv., c. 34.

[359] Pan, in Greek πᾶν, signifies the All, and Phanes is derived from thePhœnician word אנש (ânesh), man, preceded by the emphatic article פ (ph).It must be observed that these two names spring from the same root אן (ân),which, figuratively, expresses the sphere of activity, and literally, the limitationof the being, its body, its capacity. Hence אני (âni), me, and אניו (aniha),a vessel.

[360]Mém. concern. les Chinois,t. ii., p. 174 et suiv.;Edda Island; Beausobre,Hist. du Manich., t. ii., p. 784; Bœhme,De la triple Vie de l’Homme,c. ix., § 35 et suiv.

[361]Παντὶ ἐν Κόσμῳ λάμπει τριὰς· ἧς Μονὰς ἄρχει. —Zoroast.Oracul.

[362]Hiérocl.,Aurea Carmin.,,v. 14.

[363] Hermès,In Pœmander.

[364]Evang. St. Math., ch. 18.

[365]Vendidad Sadé,p. 89.

[366] 34ᵉhâ,p. 174.

[367] 3ᵉfargard.,p. 284.

[368]Jeshts Sadès,p. 151.

[369] Hafiz, cité par les auteursDes Recherches asiatiques,t. iv., p. 167.

[370]L’Arya, cité comme ci-dessus:

“L’homme de bien, paisable au moment qu’il expire,

Tourne sur ses bourreaux un œil religieux,

Et bénit jusqu’au bras qui cause son martyre:

Tel l’arbre de Sandal que frappe un furieux,

Couvre de ses parfums le fer qui le dechire.”

[371]Edda Island; Hâvamâl.

[372]Diogen. Laërt.,In Prœm.,p. 5.

[373]Pœmander etAsclepius.

[374] This is the vast collection of Brahmanic morals. One finds there manyof the lines repeated word for word in the Sepher of Moses.

[375] In them, antiquity goes back three thousand years before our era.There is mention of an eclipse of the sun, verified for the year 2155B.C.

[376]Senec.,De Sen.,l. vi., c. 2.

[377]Hiérocl.,Aur. carmin.,v. 18.

[378]Jamblic.,De Vitâ Pythag.;Porphyr., ibid.,et de Abstin.; Vitâ Pythag. apud;Phot., Cod., 259;Diog. Laërt.,In Pythag.,l. viii.;Hierocl.,Comment. in Aur. Carm.; ibid.,De Provident.;Philost.,In Vitâ Apollon;Plutar.,De Placit. philos.; ibid.,De Procreat. anim.;Apul..,In Florid.;Macrob.,In Saturn., et "Somn. Scip.;Fabric.,Bibl. græc. in Pythag.;Clem. Alex.,Strom., passim., etc.

[379]Hiérocl.,Aur. Carm.,v. 14; Phot.,Cod., 242 et 214.

[380]Diog. Laërt.,In Pythag.; ibid.,In Emped.

[381]Hiérocl., Pont.apud Diog. Laërt., l. viii., § 4.

[382] Maximus Tyrius has made a dissertation upon the origin of Evil, inwhich he asserts that the prophetic oracles, having been consulted on thissubject, responded by these two lines from Homer:

“We accuse the gods of our evils, while we ourselves

By our own errors, are responsible for them.”

[383]Hiérocl.,Aur. Carm.,v. 18.

[384]Plutar.,De Repugn. Stoïc.

[385]InGorgi. et Phileb.

[386]Hiérocl.,Aur. Carmin., v., 18.

[387]Hiérocl.,Aur. Carmin.,v. 18, 49 et 62.

[388]In Phédon;InHipp.,ii.;In Theæt.;De Rep.,l. iv., etc.

[389] Hyde,De Relig. Vet. Pers., p. 298.

[390]Evan. S. Math., ch. xvii., v. 19.

[391]Vie de Kong-Tzée (Confucius),p. 324.

[392] Meng-Tzée, cité par Duhalde,t. ii., p. 334.

[393] Krishna,Bhagavad-Gita,lect. ii.

[394]XL Questions sur l’Ame (Viertzig Fragen von der Sellen Orstand, Essentz,Wesen, Natur und Eigenschafft, etc. Amsterdam, 1682).Quest. 1.

[395]Ibid.

[396]IX Textes, text. 1 et 2.

[397]XL Questions,quest. 6.

[398] Plato,InTheag.

[399]Clem. Alex.,Strom.,l. iv., p. 506; Beausobre,Hist. du Manich., t. ii., p. 28.

[400] This is the signification of the Greek word φιλόσοφος.

[401] Dans leTchong-Yong, ou le Principe central, immuable, appeléLeLivre de la grande Science.

[402]Evan. S. Math., ch. vii., v. 6.

[403]Bhagavad-Gita,lect. 8 et 13.

[404]Evang. S. Luc., ch. xiv., v. 26.

[405] 50ᵉhâ Zend-Avesta,p. 217; 45ᵉhâ,ibid.,p. 197.

[406]Nombres,ch. xxxi.;Deutéronome,ch. iii., xx., etc.

[407]Exode,ch. xxxiv., v. 6.

[408]Koran,i., ch. 4, 22, 23, 24, 25, 50, etc.

[409]Voyez la fin du dernier Examen.

[410]S. Math., ch. v., v. 44.

[411]Ibid.,ch. xii., v. 20, etc.

[412]Ibid.,ch. x., v. 34.

[413]S. Luc, ch. xii., v. 52, 53.

[414]S. Math., ch. xii., v. 30.

[415] Bacon,Novum Organum.

[416]NovumOrgan.,Aphor., 38et seq.

[417] VoyezLa Vie de Kong-Tzée et leTa-Hio, cité dans lesMém. concern.les Chinois,t. i., p. 432.

[418]Mém. concern. les Chin., t. iv., p. 286.

[419]Novum Organum inPræf. et Aph., 1.

[420]Ibid.,Aph., 11.

[421]Ibid.,Aph., 13.

[422]Ibid.,Aph., 14 et 15.

[423]Ibid.,Aph., 38et seq.

[424]Novum Organum inPræf. et Aph., 73.

[425]Ibid.,Aph., 63.

[426]Ibid.,Aph., 65.

[427]AureaCarm.,v. 25.

[428]AureaCarm.,v. 27.

[429] Hermes,In Asclepio;Porphyr.,De Antr. Nymph., p. 106; Origen,Contr. Cels., 1.vi., p. 298;Hyd.,De Vet. Pers. Relig., p. 16;Jamblic.,De Myster-Egypt., c. 37.

[430]Hist. des Voyag., t. lii., p. 72; Divd., 1.iv., c. 79;Plutar.,In Vitâ Num.

[431] Boulanger,Antiq. dévoil., l. iii., ch. 5,§ 3.

[432]Mém. de l’Acad. des Insc., t. i., p. 67;Tit.-Liv.,Decad.,I, l. ix.;Aul. Gell., l. vi., c. 9.

[433]Duhald., t. ii., p. 578;t. iii., p. 336, 342;Const. d’Orville,t. i., p. 3.

[434]Philostr.,In Vitâ Apoll.,l. iii., c. 13.

[435] Dans mon 21ᵉ Examen, où j’ai cité particulièrement Diogène Laërce,l. viii., § 4.

[436]Syncell., p. 35.

[437]Senec.,Quæst. Nat., l. iii., c. 30;Synes.,De Provid., l. ii.,sub fin.

[438] Plato,InTim.; Ovid,Metam., l. xv., fab. v.;Senec.,Epist., 35;Macrob.,In Somn. Scip., l. ii., c. 2;Hist. des Voyages,t. xii., p. 529; Dupuis,Orig. des Cultes,l. v.,in 12,p. 474; Bailly,Hist. de l’Astr. Anc., l. ix., § 15.

[439] Ciceron,De Divin., l. ii., c. 97.

[440]Cicer.,De Natur. Deor., l. ii., c. 20; ibid.,De Divin., l. ii., c. 97.

[441] Plato,InTim.

[442]Souryâ-Siddhanta.

[443]Asiat. Research., t. ii., p. 378.

[444] Biot.,Astr. Phys., ch. xiv., p. 291.

[445]Vitâ Pythag.;Phot.,Bibl. Cod., 259; Plato,In Tim.;Macrob.,In Somn. Scip.;Virg.,Æneid,l. vi., v. 724; Sevius,Comm.,ibid.;Cicer.,De Nat. Deor., l. i., c. 5, 11, 14, et 15;Diog. Laërt.,In Zon.; Batteux,Causes premières,t. ii., p. 116;Beausob.,Hist. du Manich., t. ii., l. vi., c. 6,§ 14.

[446] Stanley,De Phil. Chald., p. 1123.

[447] Kircher,Ædip., t. i., p. 172, et t. ii., p. 200.

[448]Maimon.,More Nevoch., i., part., c. 70.

[449] Salmas,Ann. Climat.,Præf., p. 32.

[450] Homer,Odyss., K.v. 494; Diodor. Sic., l. v., c. 6;Plin., l. vii., c. 56;Plutar.,De Oracul. Defect., p. 434.

[451]Horat.,Sat., v., l. ii., v. 59.

[452]Hierocl.,In Aurea Carm., v. 31.

[453]Alcibiad., i. et ii.;Lachès, etc.

[454]In Alcibiad., i.

[455]Voyez Burette,Mém. de l’Acad. des Belles-Lett., t. v.; Laborde,Essai sur la Musique,t. i., introd., p. 20.

Our painters have hardly treated Greek painting better; and perhaps ifthe Pythian Apollo and the Chaste Venus had not again astonished Europe,but had disappeared as did the masterpieces of Polygnotus and of Zeuxis,the modern sculptors would have said that the ancients failed as much inpattern as in colouring.

[456] Wood,Essai sur le Génieorig. d’Homère,p. 220.

[457] Bryant, cité par Desalles,Hist. d’Homère,p. 18.

[458] Wolf et Klotz, cités par le même.Ibid.,p. 36 et 117.

[459] Paw,Recherches sur les Grecs,t. ii., p. 355.

[460] C’est un certain Grégoire, cité par Leo Allazi, dans son Livrede PatriâHomeri.

Voltaire,Dict. philos., art.Epopée.

[461] The name ofPagan is an injurious and ignoble term derived from theLatinPaganus, which signifies a rustic, a peasant. When Christianity hadentirely triumphed over Greek and Roman polytheism, and when by the orderof the Emperor Theodosius, the last temple dedicated to the gods of thenations had been destroyed in the cities, it was found that the people in thecountry still persisted a considerable time in the ancient cult, which causedthem and all their imitators to be called derisivelyPagans. This appellation,which could suit the Greeks and Romans in the fifth century who refused tosubmit to the dominating religion in the Empire, is false and ridiculous whenone extends it to other times, and to other peoples. It cannot be said withoutat once offending chronology and common sense, that the Romans or Greeksof the time of Cæsar, of Alexander, or of Pericles; the Persians, Arabs, Egyptians,Indians, the Chinese, ancient or modern, werePagans; that is to say,peasants disobedient to the laws of Theodosius. These are polytheists, monotheists,mythologists, whatever one wishes, idolaters perhaps, but notPagans.

[462]NovumOrgan.,aph. 48.

[463]DeDign. et Increm. Science,l. iii., c. 4.

[464]Ut supra.

[465] Bacon,de la Vie et de la Mort;Sueton.,in Tiber., § 66.

[466]Diogen. Laërt.,in Pythag.

[467]Hiérocl.,Aur. Carm.,v. 33.

[468] Bacon assures, following the ancients, that the envious eye is dangerousand that it has been observed that after great triumphs, illustrious personageshaving been the object of an envious eye have found themselves ill-disposedfor some days following (Sylva Sylvarum,§ 944).

[469]Aul. Gell., l. iv., c. 11.

[470] Athen.,l. vii., c. 16;Jambl.,Vitâ Pythag., c. 30.

[471]Jambl.,ibid.,c. 24.

[472]Diog. Laërt., l. viii., § 9;Clem. Alex.,Pæd., l. ii., p. 170.

[473]Jambl.,ibid., c. 21; Porphyre,"Vitâ Pythag., p. 37; Athen.,l. x., p. 418;Aul. Gell., l. iv., c. 11.

[474]Diog. Laërt., l. viii., § 19.

[475]Hiérocl.,Aur. Carm.,v. 32.

[476]Proverbes du Brahme Barthrovhari.

[477]Chou-King,ch.Yu-Mo.

[478] On trouve ce passages dans leTchong-Yong, ou Livre du Juste-Milieu;ouvrage très célèbre parmi les Chinois.

[479]

A la persévérance il n’est rien qui résiste:

Quelques soient ses desseins, si le Sage y persiste,

Nul obstacle si grand dont il ne vienne à bout:

La constance et le temps sont les maîtres de tout.

[480]Porphyr.,Vitâ Pythag., p. 27.

[481]Institutes of Manu,ch. 1,v. 5.

[482] Xénophon,Mém., l. iv., p. 796;Plat.,in Alcib., i.;ibid.,in Charm.;Pausan., l. x.;Plin., l. vii., c. 32.

[483]InAlcibiad.,i.

[484]Cicér.,Acad. Quæst., l. ii., c. 24; Sext. Empir.,Hypotyp.,l. i., c. 4 et 12.

[485]Diog. Laërt., l. iv., § 10;Cicer.,Acad. Quæst., l. ii., c. 18.

[486] Desland,Hist. Critiq. de la Philosoph., t. ii., p. 258.

[487]Euseb.,Præp. Evan., l. xiv., c. 4.

[488] The Greek word is derived from the verb καλύπτειν, to cover with a veil.

[489] Bayle,Dict. crit., art.Arcésilas.

[490] Sextus Empiricus, who was not a man to advance anything thoughtlessly,alleges that Arcesilaus was only a skeptic in semblance and that thedoubts which he proposed to his listeners had no other aim than that of seeingif they had enough genius to understand the dogmas of Plato. When hefound a disciple who evinced the necessary force of mind, he initiated himinto the true doctrine of the Academy (Pyrrh. hypotyp., l. i., c. 33).

[491]Sext. Empir.,Pyrrh. hypotyp., l. i., c. 4, 12, 15;l. ii., c. 4, etc.

[492]οἵη περ φύλλων γενεή, τοίη δὲ καὶ ἀνδρῶν.Iliad,l. vi., v. 146.

[493] The Brahmans call the illusion which results from this veilmaya.According to them, there is only the Supreme Being who really and absolutelyexists; all the rest ismaya, that is to say, phenomenal, even the trinityformed by Brahma, Vishnu, and Rudra.

[494] De Gérando,Hist. comp. des Systèmes de philos., t. iii., p. 360.

[495] De Gérando,Hist. comp. des Systèmes de philos., t. iii., p. 361.

[496] Zeno having been thrown by a storm into the port of Piræus at Athens,all his life regarded this accident as a blessing from Providence, which hadenabled him to devote himself to philosophy and to obey the voice of anoracle which had ordered him to assume “the colour of the dead”; that is,to devote himself to the study of the ancients and to sustain their doctrine.

[497] Plutarch,in Catone majore.

[498] Plutarch,ibid.;Cicér.,de Rep., l. ii.; Apud Noniumvoce Calumnia.Lactant., l. v., c. 14.

[499] C’était à quoi se bornaient les sceptiques anciens.Voyez SextusEmpiricus,Pyrrh. hypotyp., l. i., c. 15, et l. ii., c. 4, 12, etc., cité par De Gérando,Hist. Comp. des Syst., t. iii., p. 395.

[500]Kritik der Reinen Vernunft (Critique de la Raison pure),s. 6.

[501] Du mot grec κριτικός,celui qui est apt à juger.

[502]L’Histoire comparée des Systèmes dePhilos., par De Gérando, et desMélanges de Phil., par Ancillon de Berlin. These two writers, whatever onemay say, have analysed very well the logical part of Kantism, and havepenetrated, especially the former, into the rational part, as far as it was possible,for men who write upon the system of a philosopher without adoptingthe principles and making themselves his followers.

[503]Krit. der Reinen Vernunft;çà et là, en plusieurs endroits.

[504] This is taken from theVedanta, a metaphysical treatise attributed toVyasa and commented upon by Sankarâchârya.

[505] Justin,Cohort. ad Gent.,p. 6; Cyrill.,Contr. Julian.

[506]Plutar.,de Procr. anim.;Chalcid.,in Tim.,n. 293.

[507] Plato,inTim.; ibid.,in Theet.; ibid.,de Rep., l. iv. Conférez avec Proclus,Comment. in Tim.,l. i.; Marc-Aurel., l. iv., l. ix., et l. x.;et Beausobre,Hist. du Manich., t. ii., p. 175, etc.

[508] The idea of making the quaternary spring from the unity, and thedecade from the quaternary is expressed literally in the following lines ofPythagoras, preserved by Proclus:

… Πρόεισιν ὁ θεῖος ἀριθμὸς

Μονάδος ἐκ κευθμῶνος ἀκηράτου, ἔς τ’ ἂν ἵκηται

Τετράδ’ ἑπὶ ζαθέην, ἣ δὴ τέκε μητέρα πάντων,

Πανδοχέα, πρέσβειραν, ὅρον περὶ πᾶσι τιθεῖσαν,

Ἄτροπον, ἀκαμάτην, δεκάδα κλείουσί μιν ἁγνήν·

The Monad, of Number is the sacred source;

From it Number emanates and holds the virtues

With which shines the Tetrad, Universal Mother,

Which produces all things and conceals in its depths

The immortal Decade, honoured in all places.

[509] The nearest root of this word isfind, whence is derivedfinden, to find;its remote root ishand, the seat of touch, whence comesfinger, that whichfeels; its primitive root is אד or יד (âd orid), the hand in Phœnician. Thislast root, becoming nasal at the final and aspirate at the initial, has producedhand;fang, a capture, andfind, a discovery. The syllableemp, which precedesthe rootfind, expresses the movement which lifts up from below;lich designatesthat which disqualifies by identity, andkeit, that which substantiates.

[510] The root of this word isstand, a fixed thing, a state; its remote root isstat, that which is permanent. Its primitive root is שדד (shdad), firmness,force, constancy. The initial syllablever expresses the movement whichcarries far away, which transports from the place where one is, to that whereone is not.

[511] The nearest root of this word, as well as its remote root, has disappearedfrom the modern German, where one finds only its derivatives. Its primitiveroot is in the Latin wordopt, whence comesopto, I choose: andoptime, best.This root is attached to the Phœnician עיף (whôph), anything which is raisedabove another thing. It becomes nasal in the German word and has changedtheph toft. From it is derived the Saxon, English, Belgian, and Danish wordup, which expresses the movement of everything which tends above. Alsofrom it, the German wordluft, air, and the English wordaloft, that which iselevated. The prepositionver has taken the finaln, placing it beforeunft,as it carries it constantly in its analoguefern, that which is distant. Likewiseone saysfernglass, a telescope with which one sees at a distance.

[512] De Gérando,Hist. des Systèmes de Philos., t. ii., p. 193.

[513]Krit. der Rein. Vernunft,s. 24.

[514] In the Oriental languages רו (rou) indicates the visual ray, and רד (rad),all movement which is determined upon a straight line. This root,accompanied by a guttural inflection, is calledrecht, in German, andrightin English and Saxon. The Latins made of itrectum, that which is straight.In Frenchrature andrateau. The Teutons, taking right in a figurative sense,have drawn from this same root,rath, a council, andrichter, a judge.

[515]InTim., cité par Beausobre,Hist. du Manich.,t. ii., p. 174.

[516] The word intelligence, in Latinintelligentia, is formed of two words,inter eligere orelicere, to choose, to attract to self interiorly, and by sympathy.The etymology of the word expresses exactly the use of the faculty.

[517]Kritik der Reinen Vernunft,s. 662, 731; De Gérando,Hist. des Systèm., t. ii., p. 230.

[518]Krit. der Reinen Vernunft,s. 306, 518, 527, etc.

[519]Ibid.,s. 135, 137. 399. etc.

[520]Kritik der praktischen Vernunft(Critique de la Raison pratique),s. 5, 22, 219, 233, etc.

[521]Characteristics, London, 1737.

[522]A System of Moral Philosophy,t. i., ch. 4.

[523]Enquiry into the Human Mind, on the Principle of Common Sense.

[524]An Appeal to Common Sense, etc., Edinburgh, 1765.

[525]Pensées,§ 21.

[526] In Greekτὸ ἡγεμονικόν, that which dominates and rules, that whichis intelligible.

[527] In Greekτὸ φυσικόν, that which pertains to generative nature, thatwhich is physical, and sentient.

[528] In Greekτὸ λογικόν, that which pertains to reasonable nature, thatwhich is logical, the thing which proves that another thing is.Voyez Platon,inTim., et conférez avec Beausobre,Hist. du Manich., t. ii., p. 174.

[529]Plutar.,de Facie in Orb. lun.,p. 943.

[530] The first kind of virtue is calledἀνθρωπίνη, human, and the secondἡρωικὴ καὶ δία, heroic and divine. Attention should be given to these epithetswhich are related to the three principal faculties of man.Aristot.,ad Nicom., l. vii., c. 1;Plato,in Theæt.;Gallien,in Cognit et Curat. morb. anim.,l. i., c. 3, et 6;Theod. Marcil,in Aur. Carmin.

[531]InSomn. Scip.,c. 8.

[532]Aristot.,de Cælo et Mundo,l. i.; Philo,de Mund. opific..

[533]Pausan.,in Corinth.,p. 72;Tzetz.,in Schol.

[534] Suidas,in Εποπ; Harpocr.,ibid.

[535]Clem. Alex.,l. v., p. 582.

[536] Psellus,AdOracul. Zoroastr.

[537] Meurs.Eleus. 12;Dion. Chrysost.,Orat. xii.

[538]Sophocl.apud Plutar.,De Audiend. Poet. Schol.;Aristoph.,De Pace.

[539]Porphyr.,Vitâ Pythag., p. 5.

[540] γνῶσις,savant.

[541]Epiph., l. i.; Plucquet,Dictionn. des Hérésies, t. ii., p. 72.

[542]Diod. Sicul., l. i.;Herodot., l. ii.

[543]Aristot.,Polit., l. ii.;Strab., l. viii.

[544]VoyezDaniel, et conférez avec Court de Gébelin,Monde primitif,t.viii., p. 9.

[545]Zend-Avesta, 14ᵉhâ,p. 127.

[546]Pomp. Mela,iii., c. 2; César,l. vi., c. 14; Pelloutier,Hist. des Celtes,l. iv., ch. 1,§ 27 et 30.

[547] The firstShastra is entitledDjatimala. I am ignorant of the title of theother, that I cite from Henry Lord:Discovery of the Banian Religion, in Church,Collect., vol. vi.

[548]Asiat. Research., tom. vi., p. 254.

[549]Mémoir. concern. les Chin., t. ii., p. 174etsuiv.

[550]Vie de Kong-Tzée,p. 237 et suiv.

[551]Voyez le 12ᵉ Examen.

[552]Porphyr.,Vitâ Pythag.

[553] Plato,ut suprà.

[554]Synes.,De Provident., c. 5.

[555] Beausobre,Hist. du Manich., t. ii., p. 33.

[556] Tatian,Orat. contr. Græc., p. 152.

[557] Plato,In Gorgia; ibid.,InPhæd.; ibid.,De Rep., l. vii.; August.,De Civit. Dei, l. iii., c. 1, et l. x., c. 29.

[558]Diogen. Laërt., l. x., § 123; Cicero,De Nat. Deor., l. i., c. 30.

[559]Cicer.,ibid.,c. 8et seq.

[560]Cicer.,ut suprà.

[561]Diogen. Laërt., l. x., § 123.

[562]Dict. critiq., art.Epicure,rem. T.

[563]Mém. concern. les Chin., t. i., p. 102 et 138.

[564]"Asiat. Research., vol. vi., p. 215.Voyez les Pouranas intitulés,Bhagavad-VedametBhagavad-Gita, et conférez avec lesRecherches asiatiq.,t. v., p. 350etsuiv., et avec l’ouvrage de Holwell (Interest. Hist. Events),ch. 4,§ 5, etc.

[565]Cicer., cité par S. August.,Contr. Pelag., l. iv.; Pindar,Olymp., ii., v. 122.

[566] Meurs.,Eleus. 11;Dion. Chrysost.,Orat. 12.

[567]Boun-Dehesh,p. 347.

[568]Vendidad-Sadé, 30ᵉhâ.

[569]Homil. Clement., xix., § 4,p. 744.

[570]Ibid., cité par Beausobre,Hist. du Manich.,t. i., p. 38.

[571] It is necessary before all, to restore the language of Moses, lost, as Ihave said, for more than twenty-four centuries; it must be restored with theaid of Greek and Latin which chain it to the illusory versions; it is necessaryto go back to its original source and find its true roots: this enormous workthat I have undertaken, I have accomplished.

[572] Fortun.apudAugust.,Disput.,ii.;August.,Contr. Faust., l. xxi., c.ult.

[573] Origène, cité par Beausobre,Hist. du Manich., t. ii., v., ch. 6.

[574] Beausobre,ibid.,t. ii., p. 346.

[575]Hiérocl.,Aur. Carmin.v. 49 et 50.

[576]Plat.,In II.Alcibiad.

“Accordez-moi, grands Dieux, ce qui m’est nécessaire,

Soit que je pense ou non à vous le demander;

Et si de mes désirs l’objet m’était contraire,

Daignez, grands Dieux, daignez ne pas me l’accorder.”

[577]Vendidad-Sadê, 68ᵉhâ,p. 242.

[578]Zend-Avesta, Jeshts-Sadés,p. 113.

[579] Hermès,InAsclep., c. 9.

[580] Origen.,Contr. Cels.,l. i.,p. 19.

[581]Synes.,De Insomn., p. 134et seq.;Niceph. Greg.,Schol. in Synes.,p. 360et seq.

[582] Voyez Naudé,Apolog. des grands Hommes accusés de Magie.

[583]Corn. Cels.,De Re Medic.,l. i.,Præf.

[584]Hiérocl.,Aur. Carm.,v. 48 et 49, etibid.,v. 46.

[585]Plat.,In Georgiâ, In Phæd.; Ibid.,De Rep., l. vii.;August.,De Civit.Dei,l. iii., c. 1 et l. x., c. 29.

[586]Acad. des Inscript., t. xxxi., p. 319.

[587]Procl.,In Tim.,l. v., p. 330;Cicer.,Somn. Scip., c. 2, 3, 4, et 6;Hiérocl.,In Aur. Carm.,v. 70.

[588]Veda, cité par W. Jones,Asiat. Resear., t. iv., p. 173.

[589]Premier Pourâna, intituléMatsya.

[590]Boushznda-Ramayan.

[591]Institut. of Menou,ch. 1,v. 1.

[592]Shanda-Pourâna.

[593]Ekhamesha.

[594]Aurore naissante (Morgens röte im Aufgang: durch Jacob Böhmen zuAmsterdam, 1682),ch. 14,§ 41.

[595] Brahma, Vishnu, and Rudra.

[596] Jupiter, Neptune, and Pluto.

[597] In theTao-te-King of Lao-Tse, a work which has held a high reputationamong the numerous followers of this theosophist, one finds that the absolute,universal Being which he declares can neither be named, nor defined, is triple.“The first,” he said, “has engendered the second; the two have produced thethird; and the three have made all things. That which the mind perceivesand the eye cannot see is namedY, the absolute Unity, the central point;that which the heart understands and the ear cannot hear is namedHi, theuniversal Existence; that which the soul feels and the hand cannot touch isnamedOuei, the individual Existence. Seek not to penetrate the depths ofthis Trinity; its incomprehensibility comes from its Unity.” “This Unity,”adds Lao-Tse, in another passage, “is namedTao, the Truth;Tao is Life;Tao is to itself both rule and model. It is so lofty that it cannot be attained;so profound that it cannot be fathomed; so great that it contains the Universe;when one looks on high one sees no beginning; when one follows it in its productions,one finds in it no end.”

[598] One of the principal dogmas of Fo-Hi is the existence of one God inthree persons, whose image is man. All his doctrine is limited to leading, bymeditation and repression of the passions, the human ternary to its perfection.This ternary is composed, according to him, ofKi,Tsing, andChen,that is to say, of the material, animistic, and spiritual principle. It is necessarythat, being joined together, this ternary should make but One. Thenits duration will have no limit and its faculties will be indestructible.VoyezDuhalde,t. iii.,in fol., p. 50.

[599] This is noticeable particularly in Bayle.

[600]Herod.,In Clio,§ 131;Strab., l. xv.; Boehm.,Mores Gentium.

[601] Pelloutier,Hist. des Celtes, t. v., c. 3.

[602]Tacit.,De Morib. Germ., c. 9;Lactant.,Præm.,p. 5.

[603]August.,De Civit. Dei,l. ii., c. 31;Clem. Alex., l. i., p. 304;Strom.

[604]Plutar.,In Vitâ Numa; ibid.,In Mar.; Pelloutier,Hist. des Celt., l. iv., c. i.; Lucan.,Phars., l. iii., v. 412;Clem. Alex.,Cohort. ad Gent.,p. 57.

[605]Euseb.,Prœp. Evang., l. xiii., c. 12; Henric. Steph.,Poes. philosop.,p. 78.

[606]Porphyr.,Sent., no. 10,p. 221;Stanl.,In Pythag.,p. 775.

[607] Stanley,De Phil. chald., p. 1123;Beausob.,Hist. du Manich., t. ii., l. ix., c. 1,§ 10.

[608] Τρισμέγιστος, thrice greatest.

[609] It is said that this famous table of Emerald was found in the valleyof Hebron, in a sepulchre where it was between the hands of the cadaver ofThoth himself. Krigsmann, who assures us that this table must have readin Phœnician and not in Greek, quotes it a little differently from what onereads in the ordinary versions.Voyez Tabula Smaragdina, citée parFabric.,Bibl. Græc., p. 68.

[610] Hermès,InAsclep., c. 9;Jambl.,De Myst. Egypt., c. 30;Maimon.,Mor. Nevoch., part ii., c. 10; Origen,Contr. Cels.,l. i.;Beausob.,Hist. du Manich., t. ii., p. 49.

[611] Homère, cité par Maxime deTyr.; Pline,l. ii., c. 7;Bible, psalm. 73 et 93; Job,c. 23;Habacuc, c. 1;Malach., c. 3; Balzac,Socrate chrétien, p. 237.

[612] Plucquet,Dict. des Hérés., art.Prédestinatiens.

[613] Noris.,Hist. pelag., l. ii., c. 15.

[614] Origen,Comment. in Psalm.,p. 38 et 39.

[615]S. Léon.,Epist. Decret.,ii.; Niceph., l. xvii., c. 27.

[616]Conc. Rom.,Gelas., t. iii.

[617]Dict. des Hérés., art.Pélagiens.

[618] Plucquet,comme ci-dessus,t. ii., p. 454.

[619]Pelag.,apud S. August.,De Nat. et Grat., l. iii., c. 9.

[620]Pelag.,apudAugust.,De Grat. Christ., c. 4.

[621]Comment. inAur. Carm.,v. 62.