Chapter IV: Part 4

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 majestic simplicity of Vergil are not there; there is a sweetness of expression, a purity of imagery which please. This might be greater, but then the melancholy of the romance would exclude it and the reader would demand the full force of epopœia.

Besides, the Italians have tried, over and over again, to vary the form of their verses; some have wished to measure them by musical rhythm; others have contented themselves with making blank verse. They have neither succeeded completely nor failed completely. Their language sweet and musical lacks force whether in good or in evil. Its words might indeed, strictly speaking, be composed of long and short syllables; but as they terminate, nearly all, in the soft and languid style that we call feminine, it results, therefore, that in the measured verses the poets lack the long syllables to constitute the last foot and to form the spondee; and that in the blank verse they are obliged to terminate them all in the same style; so that with the measure they create only lame verses, and without the rhyme they make them all equally languid.[224]

I recall having sometimes read French writers who, not having investigated the character of their tongue, have reproached it for its feminine syllables and have believed that their concurrence was harmful to its force and its harmony. These writers have scarcely considered what this language would be, deprived of its feminine sounds. For with the little force that it would gain on one side, it would acquire such a harshness on the other, that it would be impossible to draw from it four consecutive lines that would be endurable. If all its finals were masculine, and if nothing could change it otherwise, it would be necessary to renounce poetry, or like the Arabs, be resolved to compose whole poems in the same rhyme.

We have just seen that the lack of masculine finals takes away all energy from the Italian tongue; a contrary defect would deprive the French of this _mélange_ of sweetness and force which makes it the _première langue_ of Europe. The English language is lacking in precisely what the writers of whom I have spoken desired eliminated from the French, without foreseeing the grave disadvantages of their desire: it has no feminine finals[225]; also it is in everything the opposite of the Italian. It is true that it possesses great energy, great boldness of expression, and a grammatical liberty which goes to the full extent; but deprived of sweetness and softness, it is, if I may say it, like those brittle metals whose strength is in stiffness, and which is broken when one would make them flexible. The poverty of its rhymes, denuded for the most part of accuracy of accent and of harmony in consonants, has for a long time engaged the English poets in making blank verse; and it must be admitted that, notwithstanding the defect inherent in their tongue and which consists, as I have just said, in the absolute lack of feminine finals, they have succeeded in this better than any of the poets of other nations. These lines, all imperfect in their harmony, are however, as to form, the only eumolpique verse that they could make. Shakespeare felt it and made use of it in his tragedies.

Shakespeare with the creative genius with which nature had endowed him, would have borne dramatic art to its perfection in these modern times, if circumstances had been as favourable to him as they were adverse. Emulator of Æschylus, he might have equalled and perhaps surpassed him, if he had had at his disposal a mine so rich, so brilliant as that of the mysteries of Orpheus; if he had made use of a language so harmonious, if his taste had been able to be refined at the school of Pindar or of Homer. At the epoch of his birth, Europe scarcely emerged from the gloom of barbarism; the theatre, given over to ridiculous mountebanks, profaned in indecent farces the incomprehensible mysteries of the Christian religion, and the English tongue, still crude and unformed, had not succeeded in amalgamating in one single body the opposed dialects of which it was successively formed. In spite of these obstacles, Shakespeare stamped upon England a movement of which Europe felt the influence. Raised by the sole force of his genius to the essence of dramatic poetry, he dared to seek for his subjects in the mythology of Odin, and put upon the stage, in _Hamlet_ and in _Macbeth_, tableaux of the highest character.[226] Like Æschylus he conducted one to virtue by terror; but unfortunately the taste of the spectators, upon which he was forced to model his, led him to degrade his tableaux by grotesque figures: the English people were not sufficiently advanced to comprehend the moral end of the tragedy. They must be amused; and Shakespeare succeeded only at the expense of the beauties of the art. Historic facts and trivial 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 the taste of the people. The first regular tragedy which Pierre Corneille composed in France was derived from a Spanish ballad. Madrid at that time gave the tone to Europe. It needed much of the time and all the prosperity of Louis XIV. to throw off the unseasonable ascendancy that this proud nation had assumed over public opinion.[227] Notwithstanding the efforts of Corneille, of Racine, and of Molière, the Théâtre Français retained always the romanesque tone that it had originally received. All that these three men could do was, by lofty sentiments, by purity of forms, by regularity of the customs and characters, to pass over what was, in reality, defective. They came thus to give to modern dramatic art all the perfection of which it was susceptible. Shakespeare had been in London the successor of Æschylus; Corneille received in France the inspiration of Sophocles; Racine, that of Euripides; and Molière united as in a sheaf the spirit of Menander, of Terence, and of Plautus.

When I compare Shakespeare with Æschylus, I want to make it clearly understood that I regard him as the regenerator of the theatre in Europe, and superior to Corneille and Racine as to dramatic essence, although he may be assuredly much inferior to them as to form. Æschylus, in Greek, was inspired by Homer; while, on the contrary, it was Shakespeare who inspired Milton. It is known that _Paradise Lost_ was at first conceived as the subject of a tragedy, and that it was only after reflection that the English poet saw therein the material for an epic poem. I will tell later on, in speaking of the _Messiah_ of Klopstock, what has prevented these two subjects, which appear equally epics, from attaining wholly to the majesty of epopœia. As many of the motives that I have to offer apply to the two works, I will thus avoid useless repetition. I shall begin by translating the exposition and invocation of Milton, by imitating its movement and its harmony, as I have done with 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 without the intermediary――Vergil. One can observe in the English poet the same movement and almost as much force as in the Greek poet, but much less clarity, precision, and particularly harmony. Nearly all of these defects pertain to his subject and his tongue. Circumstances were not favourable to Milton. His lines could not have been better with the elements that he was forced to employ. All imperfect as they are, they are worth much more than those of Klopstock; for at least they are in the character of his tongue, whereas those of the German poet are not. Milton is satisfied with throwing off the yoke of rhyme, and has made eumolpique lines of one foot only, measured by ten syllables. Their defect, inherent in the English idiom, consists, as I have said, in having all the lines bearing equally the masculine final, jarring continually one with the other. Klopstock has aspired to make, in German, verses measured by the musical rhythm of the Greeks; but he has not perceived that he took as long and short, in his tongue, syllables which were not such in musical rhythm, but by accent and prosody, which is quite different. The German tongue, composed of contracted words and consequently bristling with consonants, bears no resemblance to the Greek, whose words, abounding in vowels, were, on the contrary, made clear by their elongation. The rhythmic lines of Klopstock are materially a third longer than those of Homer, although the German poet has aspired to build them on an equal measure.[228] Their rhythmic harmony, if it exists there, is absolutely factitious; it is a pedantic imitation and nothing more. In order to make the movement of these lines understood in French, and to copy as closely as possible their harmony, it is necessary to compose lines of two cæsuras, or what amounts to the same, to employ constantly a line and a half to represent a single one. Here are the first fourteen lines which contain the exposition and invocation of 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 of Homer has been united by Klopstock to the ideas of Tasso. The German poet claims nevertheless the originality, and believes that he himself was called to enjoy the first inspiration. In order that this high aspiration might have been realized, a mass of learning very difficult to find would have been necessary. I will explain briefly this idea. I believe that the one who, disdaining to follow in the footsteps of Homer or of Vergil, would wish to open another road to epopœia, should be well acquainted with the ground over which he ventures to trace it, and the goal toward which he aspires to conduct it; I think he should make himself master of his subject so that nothing might remain obscure or unknown to him; so that if he should choose either the downfall of Man, as Milton, or his rehabilitation, after the example of Klopstock, he would be able to acquaint himself with the inner meaning of these mysteries, to explain all the conditions, to comprehend the beginning and the end, and, raising himself to the intellectual nature where they had birth, to spread light upon physical nature. This is the first attainment that I deem indispensable to the epic poet; I say that he should understand what he would sing. Homer knew what Ilium was, what Ithaca was; he could explain to himself the nature of Achilles and Helen, of Penelope and Ulysses; consequently he could depict them. I do not wish to investigate here whether Milton has understood in the same manner the beginning of the World and the nature of Satan; nor whether Klopstock has well understood the mystery of the incarnation of the Messiah. I only say that if they have not understood these things, they cannot sing them in a manner really epic.

A defect which is common to these two poets, and which is even noticeable in the _Jerusalem Delivered_ of Tasso, is, that everything which does not pertain to the part of the celebrated hero, is by its impure, unfaithful, impious nature, governed by the Principle of evil, and as such consigned to eternal damnation. An insurmountable barrier separates the personages and makes them not alone enemies, but opposed, as much as good and evil, light and darkness. However, the passions act unknown even to the poet; the reader 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 of mankind; 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 thus with 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 without shame, and the interest that one devotes to him reflects upon Achilles and can even be increased. The gods are divided; but Venus and Juno, Minerva and Mars, Vulcan and Neptune are of a like nature; and although divided in the epic action, they are none the less venerated by both parties, equal among each other and all equally subject to Jupiter, who excites or checks their resentment. I know not whether any one has already made this observation; but be that as it may, it is very important. One can attain to the sublimity of epopœia only if like Homer one knows how to oppose the Powers which serve the hero with the Powers which persecute him. For if everything which serves the hero is good, holy, and sacred, and everything which 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 hero succumbs, although he has to combat only the evil things within himself, whilst everything which is good protects him: the poem of Klopstock does not hold the reader’s interest, because the perils of his hero are illusory and as soon as he is represented as God, and when he himself knows his divinity, his downfall is absolutely impossible.

But it is too much to dwell upon points of criticism which do not belong to my subject. I have touched upon them only slightly so that you may feel, _Messieurs_, notwithstanding the pretensions of three rival peoples, that the epic career remains none the less wholly open to the French nation. Some out-of-the-way paths have been traced here and there; but no poet since Vergil, has left the imprint of his steps upon the true path. The moment is perhaps at hand for gathering the palms that time has ripened. Must this century, great in prodigies, remain without an impassioned and enchanting voice to sing of them? Assuredly not. Whoever may be the poet whose genius raises itself to this noble task, I have wished from afar to lend him my feeble support; for I have often enough repeated, that talent alone will aspire to this in vain. Epopœia will only be the portion of the one who thoroughly understands the essence of poetry and who is able to apply to it a proper form. I have penetrated this essence as far as has been possible 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 satisfactory and useful to you; I trust equally that the new form which I offer you merits your attention. I have applied it before you, to ideas, to intentions and to very different harmonies: it adapts itself here, for of itself it is nothing. Subject wholly to poetic essence, it receives therefrom all its lustre. If the ideas that it would render have grandeur and sublimity, it will easily become grand and sublime; but nothing would be poorer and more void, than that it should serve trivial thoughts or that it should conceal an absolute want of ideas. Do not imagine, _Messieurs_, that the absence of rhyme makes easy the French verse; it is precisely this absence which makes the great difficulty: for there is not then the means of writing without thinking. One can, with the aid of talent and practice, compose pleasing rhymed verse, without a great expenditure of ideas; the enormous quantity that is made today proves that it is not very difficult. The elegance of form supplies the sterility of substance. But this form becomes at last worn out; the rhymes are not inexhaustible; one word attracts another, forces it to unite with it, making understood the sounds that one has heard a thousand times, repeating the pictures which are everywhere; one repeats unceasingly the same things: the enjambment which gives so much grace to the Greek and Latin verse and without which real epic impulse cannot exist, is opposed to the rhyme and destroys it. You can see, _Messieurs_, that it constitutes one of the principal qualities of eumolpique verse; nothing here constrains the enthusiasm of the poet.

After some impassioned verses that I have believed necessary for you to hear, I shall now pass on to verses, philosophical and devoid of passion, which form the subject of this writing and to which I desire above all to call your attention.

THE GOLDEN VERSES OF PYTHAGORAS

ΤᾺ Τ῀Ω͂Ν ΠΥΘΑΓΟΤΡΕΊΩΝ ἜΠΗ ΤᾺ ΧΡΥΣΆ

ΠΑΡΑΣΚΕΥΗ.[229]

ΑΘΑΝΑΤΟΥΣ μὲν πρῶτα Δεοὺς, νόμῳ ὡς διάκεινται,
Τίμα· καὶ σέβου ὅρκον. ἔπειθ’ Ἥρωας ἀγαυούς.
Τοὺς τε καταχθονίους σέβε Δαίμονας, ἔννομα ῥέζων.

ΚΆΘΑΡΣΙΣ.[230]

Τούς τε γονεῖς τίμα, τούς τ’ ἄγχιστ’ ἐκγεγαῶτας.
Τῶν δ’ ἄλλων ἀρετῃ ποιεῦ φίλον ὅστις ἄριστος.
Πρᾳέσι δ’ εἶκε λόγοις, ἔργοισί τ’ ἐπωφελίμοισι.
Μὴδ’ ἔχθαιρε φίλον σὸν ἁμαρτάδος εἵνεκα μικρῆς,
Ὄφρα δύνῃ δύναμις γὰρ ἀνάγκης ἐγγύθι ναίει.
Ταῦτα μὲν οὕτως ἴσθι. κρατεῖν δ’ εἰθίζεο τῶνδε·
Γαστρὸς μὲν πρώπιστα, καὶ ὕπνου, λαγνείης τε,
Καὶ θυμοῦ. Πρήξεις δ’ αἰσχρόν ποτε μήτε μετ’ ἄλλου,
Μὴτ’ ἰδίῃ. Πάντων δὲ μάλιστα αἰσχύνεο σαυτόν.

Εἶτα δικαιοσύνην ἀσκεῖν ἔργῳ τε, λόγῳ τε.
Μὴδ’ ἀλογίστως σαυτὸν ἔχειν περὶ μηδὲν ἔθιζε·
Ἀλλὰ γνῶθι μὲν ὡς θανέειν πέπρωται ἅπασι.
Χρήματα δ’ ἄλλοτε μὲν κτᾶσθαι φιλεῖ, ἄλλοτ’ ὀλέσθαι.
Ὅσσα τε δαιμονίῃσι τύχαις βροτοὶ ἄλγε ἔχουσιν,
Ὧν ἄν μοῖραν ἔχῃς πρᾴως φέρε, μήδ’ ἀγανάκτει.
Ἰᾶσθαι δὲ πρέπει καθόσον δυνῄ· Ὥδε δὲ φράζευ.
Οὐ πάνυ τοῖς ἀγαθοῖς τουτῶν πολὺ μοῖρα δίδωσι.

Πολλοὶ δ’ ἀνθρώποισι λόγοι δειλοί τε, καὶ ἐσθλοὶ
Προσπίπτουσ’, ὧν μήτ’ ἐκπλήσσεο, μήτ’ ἄρ’ ἐάσῃς
Εἴργεσθαι σαυτόν. Ψεῦδος δ’ ἤν πέρ τι λέγηται,
Πρᾴως εἶχ’· Ὃ δέ τοι ἐρέω, ἐπὶ παντὶ τελείσθω.
Μηδεὶς μήτε λόγῳ σε παρείπῃ, μήτε τι ἔργῳ
Πρῆξαι, μὴδ’ εἰπεῖν, ὅ, τι τοὶ μὴ βέλτερόν ἐστι.
Βουλεύου δὲ πρὸ ἔργου, ὅπως μὴ μωρὰ πέληται.
Δειλοῦ τοι πρήσσειν τε λέγειν τ’ ἀνόητα πρὸς ἀνδρὸς.
Ἀλλὰ τάδ’ ἐκτελέειν, ἅ σε μὴ μετέπειτ’ ἀνιήσῃ.

Πρῆσσε δὲ μηδὲν τῶν μὴ πίστασαι· ἀλλὰ διδάσκευ
Ὅσσα χρεὼν, καὶ τερπνότατον βίον ὧδε διάξεις.

Ὀυδ’ ὑγιείης τῆς περὶ σῶμ’ ἀμέλειαν ἔχειν χρή.
Ἀλλὰ ποτοῦ τε μέτρον, καὶ σίτου, γυμνασίων τε
Ποιεῖσθαι. μέτρον δὲ λέγω τό δ’, ὃ μή σ’ ἀνιήσει.
Εἰθίζου δὲ δίαιταν ἔχειν καθάρειον, ἄθρυπτον.
Καὶ πεφύλαξό γε ταῦτα ποιεῖν, ὁπόσα φθόνον ἴσχει
Μὴ δαπανᾷν παρὰ καιρὸν, ὁποῖα καλῶν ἀδαήμων.
Μὴ δ’ ἀνελεύθερος ἴσθι· μέτρον δ’ ἐπὶ πᾶσιν ἄριστον.
Πρῆσσε δὲ ταῦθ’, ἅ σε μὴ βλάψῃ· λόγισαι δὲ πρὸ ἔργου.

ΤΕΛΕΑΌΤΗΣ.[231]

Μὴδ’ ὕπνον μαλακοῖσιν ἐπ’ ὄμμασι προσδέξασθαι,
Πρὶν τῶν ἡμερινῶν ἔργων τρὶς ἕκαστον ἐπελθεῖν·
Πῇ παρέβην; τὶ δ’ ἔρεξα; τὶ μοι δέον οὐκ ἐτελέσθη;
Ἀρξάμενος δ’ ἀπὸ πρώτου ἐπέξιθι· καὶ μετέπειτα
Δεινὰ μὲν ἐκπρήξας ἐπιπλήσσεο· χρηστὰ δὲ, τέρπου.
Ταῦτα πόνει· ταῦτ’ ἐκμελέτα· τούτων χρὴ ἐρᾷν σε.
Ταῦτά σε τῆς θείης ἀρετῆς εἰς ἴχνια θήσει.

Ναὶ μὰ τὸν ἡμετέρᾳ ψυχᾷ παραδόντα τετρακτὺν,
Παγὰν ἀενάου φύσεως. Ἀλλ’ ἔρχευ ἐπ’ ἔργον
Θεοῖσιν ἐπευξάμενος τελέσαι. Τούτων δὲ κρατήσας,
Γνώση ἀθανάτων τε θεῶν, θνητῶν τ’ ἀνθρώπων
Σύστασιν, ᾗ τε ἕκαστα διέρχεται, ᾗ τε κρατεῖται.
Γνώσῃ δ’, ἣ θέμις ἐστὶ, φύσιν περὶ παντὸς ὁμοίην
Ὥστε σε μήτ’ ἄελπτ’ ἐλπίζειν, μήτε τι λήθειν.
Γνώσῃ δ’ ἀνθρώπους αὐθαίρετα πήματ’ ἔχοντας
Τλήμονας, οἵ τ’ ἀγαθῶν πέλας ὄντων οὔτ’ ἐσορῶσιν.
Οὔτε κλύουσι· λύσιν δὲ κακῶν παῦροι συνίσασι.
Τοίη μοίρα βροτῶν βλάπτει φρένας· οἱ δὲ κυλίνδροις
Ἄλλοτ’ ἐπ’ ἄλλα φέρονται ἀπείρονα πήματ’ ἔχοντες.
Λυγρὴ γὰρ συνοπαδὸς ἔρις βλάπτουσα λέληθε
Σύμφυτος· ἣν οὐ δεῖ προσάγειν, εἴκοντα δὲ φεύγειν.

Ζεῦ πάτερ, ἤ πολλῶν τε κακῶν λύσειας ἅπαντας.
Ἤ πᾶσιν δείξαις ὁίῳ τῷ δαίμονι χρῶνται.
Ἀλλὰ σὺ θάρσει· ἐπεὶ θεῖον γένος ἐστὶ βροτοῖσιν
Οἷς ἱερὰ προφέρουσα φύσις δείκνυσιν ἕκαστα.
ᾯν εἴ σοί τι μέτεστι, κρατήσεις ὧν σε κελεύω,
Ἐξακέσας, ψυχὴν δὲ πόνων ἀπὸ τῶν δὲ σαώσεις.
Ἀλλ’ εἴργου βρωτῶν, ὧν εἴπομεν, ἔν τε καθαρμοῖς,
Ἔν τε λύσει ψυχῆς κρίνων· καὶ ψράζευ ἕκαστα,
Ἡνίοχον γνώμην στήσας καθύπερθεν ἀρίστην.
Ἢν δ’ ἀπολείψας σῶμα ἐς αἰθέρ’ ἐλεύθερον ἔλθῃς,
Ἔσσεαι ἀθάνατος θεὸς, ἄμβροτος, οὐκ ἔτι θνητός.

Vers Dorés des Pythagoriciens

PRÉPARATION

Rends aux Dieux immortels le cult consacré;
Garde ensuite ta foi: Révère la mémoire
Des Héros bienfaiteurs, des Esprits demi-Dieux.

PURIFICATION

Sois bon fils, frère juste, époux tendre et bon père.
Choisis pour ton ami, l’ami de la vertu;
Cède à ses doux conseils, instruis-toi par sa vie,
Et pour un tort léger ne le quitter jamais;
Si tu le peux du moins: car une loi sévère
Attache la Puissance à la Nécessité.
Il t’est donné pourtant de combattre et se vaincre
Tes folles passions: apprends à les dompter.
Sois sobre, actif et chaste; évite la colère.
En public, en secret ne te permets jamais
Rien de mal; surtout respecte-toi toi-même.

Ne parle et n’agis point sans avoir réfléchi.
Sois juste. Souviens-toi qu’un pouvoir invincible
Ordonne de mourir; que les biens, les honneurs
Facilement acquis, sont faciles à perdre.
Et quant aux maux qu’entraîne avec soi le Destin,
Juge-les ce qu’ils sont: supporte-les; et tâche,
Autant que tu pourras, d’en adoucir les traits:
Les Dieux, aux plus cruels, n’ont pas livré les sages.

Comme la Vérité, l’Erreur a ses amants:
Le philosophe approuve, ou blâme avec prudence;
Et si Erreur triomphe, il s’éloigne; il attend.
Ecoute, et grave bien en ton cœur mes paroles:
Ferme l’œil et l’oreille à la prévention;
Crains l’exemple d’autrui; pense d’après toi-même;
Consulte, délibère, et choisis librement.
Laisse les fous agir et sans but et sans cause.
Tu dois dans le présent, contempler l’avenir.

Ce que tu ne sais pas, ne prétends point le faire.
Instruis-toi: tout s’accorde à la constance, au temps.

Veille sur ta santé: dispense avec mesure,
Au corps les aliments, à l’esprit le repos.
Trop ou trop peu de soins sont à fuir; car l’envie,
A l’un et l’autre excès, s’attache également.
Le luxe et l’avarice ont des suites semblables.
Il faut choisir en tout, un milieu juste et bon.

PERFECTION

Que jamais le sommeil ne ferme ta paupière,
Sans t’être demandé: Qu’ai-je omis? qu’ai-je fait?
Si c’est mal, abstiens-toi; si c’est bien, persévère.
Médite mes conseils; aime-les; suis-les tous:
Aux divines vertus ils sauront te conduire.
J’en jure par celui qui grava dans nos cœurs,
La Tétrade sacrée, immense et pur symbole,
Source de la Nature, et modèle des Dieux.
Mais qu’avant, ton âme, à son devoir fidèle,
Invoque avec ferveur ces Dieux, dont les secours
Peuvent seuls achever tes œuvres commencées.
Instruit par eux, alors rien ne t’abusera:
Des êtres différents tu sonderas l’essence;
Tu connaîtras de Tout le principe et la fin.
Tu sauras, si le Ciel le veut, que la Nature,
Semblable en toute chose, est la même en tout lieu:
En sorte qu’éclairé sur tes droits véritables,
Ton cœur de vains désirs ne se repaîtra plus.
Tu verras que les maux qui dévorent les hommes,
Sont le fruit de leur choix; et que ces malheureux
Cherchent loin d’eux biens dont ils portent la source.
Peu savent être heureux: jouets des passions,
Tour à tour ballotés par des vagues contraires,
Sur une mer sans rive, ils roulent, aveuglés,
Sans pouvoir résister ni céder à l’orage.
Dieu! vous les sauveriez en désillant leurs yeux.…
Mais non: c’est aux humains, dont la race est divine,
A discerner l’Erreur, à voir la Vérité.
La Nature les sert. Toi qui l’as pénétrée,
Homme sage, homme heureux, respire dans le port.
Mais observe mes lois, en t’abstenant des choses
Que ton âme doit craindre, en les distinguant bien;
En laissant sur le corps régner l’intelligence:
Afin que, t’élevant dans l’Ether radieux,
Au sein des Immortels, tu sois un Dieu toi-même!

EXAMINATIONS OF THE GOLDEN VERSES:
EXPLANATIONS AND DEVELOPMENTS

EXAMINATIONS OF THE GOLDEN VERSES:
EXPLANATIONS AND DEVELOPMENTS

1. THE GOLDEN VERSES OF THE PYTHAGOREANS

The ancients had the habit of comparing with gold all that they deemed without defects and pre-eminently beautiful: thus, by the _Golden Age_ they understood, the age of virtues and of happiness; and by the _Golden Verses_, the verses wherein was concealed the most pure doctrine.[232] They constantly attributed these Verses to Pythagoras, not that they believed that this philosopher had himself composed them, but because they knew that his disciple, whose work they were, had revealed the exact doctrine of his master and had based them all upon maxims issued from his mouth.[233] This disciple, commendable through his learning, and especially through his devotion to the precepts of Pythagoras, was called Lysis.[234] After the death of this philosopher and while his enemies, momentarily triumphant, had raised at Crotona and at Metaponte that terrible persecution which cost the lives of so great a number of Pythagoreans, crushed beneath the _débris_ of their burned school, or constrained to die of hunger in the temple of the Muses,[235] Lysis, happily escaped from these disasters, retired into Greece, where, wishing to spread the sect of Pythagoras, to whose principles calumnies had been attached, he felt it necessary to set up a sort of formulary which would contain the basis of morals and the principal rules of conduct given by this celebrated man. It is to this generous movement that we owe the philosophical verses that I have essayed to translate into French. These verses, called _golden_ for the reason I have given, contain the sentiments of Pythagoras and are all that remain to us, really authentic, concerning one of the greatest men of antiquity. Hierocles, who has transmitted them to us with a long and masterly 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 Pythagoreans and the voice of all the assemblies.[236] He adds that there existed a law which prescribed that each one, every morning upon rising and every evening upon retiring, should read these verses as the oracles of the Pythagorean school. One sees, in reality, by many passages from Cicero, Horace, Seneca, and other writers worthy of belief, that this law was still vigorously executed in their time.[237] We know by the testimony of Galen in his treatise on _The Understanding and the Cure of the Maladies of the Soul_, that he himself read every day, morning and evening, the Verses of Pythagoras; and that, after having read them, he recited them by heart. However, I must not neglect to say that Lysis, who is the author of them, obtained so much celebrity in Greece that he was honoured as the master and friend of Epaminondas.[238] If his name has not been attached to this work, it is because at the epoch when he wrote it, the ancient custom still existed of considering things and not individuals: it was with the doctrine of Pythagoras that one was concerned, and not with the talent of Lysis which had made it known. The disciples of a great man had no other name than his. All their works were attributed to him. This is an observation sufficiently important to make and which explains how Vyasa in India, Hermes in Egypt, Orpheus in Greece, have been the supposed authors of such a multitude of books that the lives of many men would not even suffice to read them.

In my translation, I have followed the Greek text, such as is cited at the head of the Commentary of Hierocles, commentated on by the son of Casaubon, and interpreted into Latin by J. Curterius; London edition, 1673. This work, like all those which remain to us of the ancients, has been the subject of a great many critical and grammatical discussions: in the first place one must before everything else be assured of the material part. This part is today as authentic and as correct as it is possible to be, and although there exists still, several different readings, they are of too little importance for me to dwell upon. It is not my affair and besides, _chacun doit faire son métier_. That of the grammarian has ended where it ought to end. For how can man ever expect to advance if he never is willing to try some new thing which is offered. I shall not therefore make any criticizing remarks concerning the text, for I consider this text sufficiently examined; neither will I make any notes concerning the Commentaries, properly so-called, on these seventy-one lines, for I think it is sufficient having those of Hierocles, of Vitus Amerbachius, Theodore Marcilius, Henri Brem, Michel Neander, Jean Straselius, Guilhaume Diezius, Magnus-Daniel Omeis, André Dacier, etc. As I stated, 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 complete development.

PREPARATION

2. _Render to the Immortal Gods the consecrated cult;
Guard then thy faith_:

Pythagoras, of whom a modern savant, otherwise most estimable, has rather throughtlessly reproached with being a fanatical and superstitious man,[239] begins his teaching, nevertheless, by laying down a principle of universal tolerance. He commands his disciples to follow the cult established by the laws, whatever this cult may be, and to adore the gods of their country, what ever these gods may be; enjoining them only, to guard afterwards their faith――that is, to remain inwardly faithful to his doctrine, and never to divulge the mysteries. Lysis, in writing these opening lines, adroitly conceals herein a double meaning. By the first he commended, as I have said, tolerance and reserve for the Pythagorean, and, following the example of the Egyptian priests, established two doctrines, the one apparent and vulgar, conformable to the law; the other mysterious and secret, analogous to the faith; by the second meaning, he reassures the suspicious people of Greece, who, according to the slanders which were in circulation might have feared that 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 Christian Religion, exclusive and severe, has changed all our ideas in this respect: by admitting only one sole doctrine in one unique church, this religion has necessarily confused tolerance with indifference or coldness, and reserve with heresy or hypocrisy; but in the spirit of polytheism these same things take on another colour. A Christian philosopher could not, without perjuring himself and committing a frightful impiety, bend the knee in China before _Kong-Tse_, nor offer incense to _Chang-Ty_ nor to _Tien_; he could neither render, in India, homage to _Krishna_, nor present himself at Benares as a worshipper of _Vishnu_; 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 very essence of his cult. A Pythagorean philosopher did not recognize in the least these formidable barriers, which hem in the nations, as it were, isolate them, and make them worse than enemies. The gods of the people were in his eyes the same gods, and his cosmopolitan dogmas condemned no one to eternal damnation. From one end of the earth to the other he could cause incense to rise from the altar of the Divinity, under whatever name, under whatever form it might be worshipped, and render to it the public cult established by the law. And this is the reason. Polytheism was not in their opinion what it has become in ours, an impious and gross idolatry, a cult inspired by the infernal adversary to seduce men and to claim for itself the honours which are due only to the Divinity; it was a particularization of the Universal Being, a personification of its attributes and its faculties. Before Moses, none of the theocratic legislators had thought it well to present for the adoration of the people, the Supreme God, unique and uncreated in His unfathomable universality. The Indian Brahmans, who can be considered as the living types of all the sages and of all the pontiffs of the world, never permit themselves, even in this day when their great age has effaced the traces of their ancient science, to utter the name of God, principle of All.[240] They are content to meditate upon its essence in silence and to offer sacrifices to its sublimest emanations. The Chinese sages act the same with regard to the Primal Cause, that must be neither named nor defined[241]; the followers of Zoroaster, who believe that the two universal principles of good and evil, Ormuzd and Ahriman, emanate from this ineffable Cause, are content to designate it under the name of Eternity.[242] The Egyptians, so celebrated for their wisdom, the extent of their learning, and the multitude of their divine symbols, honoured with silence the God, principle and source of all things[243]; they never spoke of it, regarding it as inaccessible to all the researches of man; and Orpheus, their disciple, first author of the brilliant mythology of the Greeks, Orpheus, who seemed to announce the soul of the World as creator of this same God from which it emanated, said plainly:

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

Moses, as I have said, was the first who made a public dogma of the unity of God, and who divulged what, up to that time had been buried in the seclusion of the sanctuaries; for the principal tenets of the mysteries, those upon which reposed all others, were the Unity of God and the homogeneity of Nature.[245] It is true that Moses, in making this disclosure, permitted no definition, no reflection, either upon the essence or upon the nature of this unique Being; this is very remarkable. Before him, in all the known world, and after him (save in Judea where more than one cloud still darkened the idea of divine Unity, until the establishment of Christianity), the Divinity was considered by the theosophists of all nations, under two relations: primarily as unique, secondarily as infinite; as unique, preserved under the seal of silence to the contemplation and meditation of the sages; as infinite, delivered to the veneration and invocation of the people. Now the unity of God resides in His essence so that the vulgar can never in any way either conceive or understand. His infinity consists in His perfections, His faculties, His attributes, of which the vulgar can, according to the measure of their understanding, grasp some feeble emanations, and draw nearer to Him by detaching them from the universality――that is, by particularizing and personifying them. This is the particularization and the personification which constitutes, as I have said, polytheism. The mass of gods which result from it, is as infinite as the Divinity itself whence it had birth. Each nation, each people, each city adopts at its liking, those of the divine faculties which are best suited to its character and its requirements. These faculties, represented by simulacra, become so many particular gods whose variety of names augments the number still further. Nothing can limit this immense theogony, since the Primal Cause whence it emanates has not done so. The vulgar, lured by the objects which strike the senses, can become idolatrous, and he does ordinarily; he can even distinguish these objects of his adoration, one from another, and believe that there really exist 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 names do not make different gods; that the Greeks and Barbarians, the nations of the North and those of the South, adore the same Divinity[246] he restores easily that infinity of attributes to the unity of the essence, and as the honoured remnants of the ancient Sramanas, the priests of the Burmans, still do today, he worships God, whatever may be the altar, the temple, and the place where he finds himself.[247]

This is what was done by the disciples of Pythagoras, according to the commandment of their master; they saw in the gods of the nations, the attributes of the Ineffable Being which were forbidden them to name; they augmented ostensibly and without the slightest reluctance, the number of these attributes of which they recognized the Infinite Cause; they gave homage to the cult consecrated by the law and brought them all back secretly to the Unity which was the object 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 ranked according to its perfections, in its proper sphere.[248] He it was who first designated this All, by the Greek word _Kosmos_, in order to express the beauty, order, and regularity which reigned there[249]; the Latins translated this word by _Mundus_, from which has come the French word _monde_. It is from Unity considered as principle of the world, that the name Universe which we give to it is derived. Pythagoras establishes Unity as the principle of all things and said that from this Unity sprang an infinite Duality.[250] The essence of this Unity, and the manner in which the Duality that emanated from it was finally brought back again, were the most profound mysteries of his doctrine; the subject sacred to the faith of his disciples and the fundamental points which were forbidden them to reveal. Their explanation was never made in writing; those who appeared worthy of learning them were content to be taught them by word of mouth.[251] When one was forced, by the concatenation of ideas, to mention them in the books of the sect, symbols and ciphers were used, and the language of Numbers employed; and these books, all obscure as they were, were still concealed with the greatest care; by all manner of means they were guarded against falling into profane hands.[252] I cannot enter into the discussion of the famous symbol of Pythagoras, _one_ and _two_, without exceeding very much the limits that I have set down in these examinations[253]; let it suffice for me to say, that as he designated God by 1, and Matter by 2, he expressed the Universe by the number 12, which results in the union of the other two. This number is formed by the multiplication of 3 by 4: that is to say, that this philosopher conceived the Universal world as composed of three particular worlds, which, being linked one with the other by means of the four elementary modifications, were developed in twelve concentric spheres.[254] The ineffable Being which filled these twelve spheres without being understood by any one, was God. Pythagoras gave to It, truth for soul and light for body.[255] The Intelligence which peopled the three worlds were, firstly, the immortal gods properly so-called; secondly, the glorified heroes; thirdly, the terrestial demons. The immortal gods, direct emanations of the uncreated Being and manifestation of Its infinite faculties, were thus named because 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 to their degree of purity, glorified heroes and terrestrial demons, were able to depart sometimes from the divine life by voluntary drawing away from God; because the death of the intellectual essence, according to Pythagoras and imitated in this by Plato, was only ignorance and impiety.[256] It must be observed that in my translation I have not rendered the Greek word δαίμονες by the word _demons_, but by that of _spirits_, on account of the evil meaning that Christianity has attached to it, as I explained in a preceding note.[257]

This application of the number 12 to the Universe is not at all an arbitrary invention of Pythagoras; it was common to the Chaldeans, to the Egyptians from whom he had received it, and to the principal peoples of the earth[258]: it gave rise to the institution of the zodiac, whose division into twelve asterisms has been found everywhere existent from time immemorial.[259] The distinction of the three worlds and their development into a number, more or less great, of concentric spheres inhabited by intelligences of different degrees of purity, were also known before Pythagoras, who in this only spread the doctrine which he had received at Tyre, at Memphis, and at Babylon.[260] This doctrine was that of the Indians. One finds still today among the Burmans, the division of all the created beings established in three classes, each of which contains a certain number of species, from the material beings to the spiritual, from the sentient to the intelligible.[261] The Brahmans, who count fifteen spheres in the universe,[262] appear to unite the three primordial worlds with the twelve concentric spheres which result from their development. Zoroaster, who admitted the dogma of the three worlds, limited the inferior world to the vortex of the moon. There, according to him, the empire of evil and of matter comes to an end.[263] This idea thus conceived has been general; it was that of all the ancient philosophers[264]; and what is very remarkable, is that it has been adopted by the Christian theosophists who certainly were not sufficiently learned to act through imitation.[265] The followers of Basil, those of Valentine, and all the gnostics have imbibed from this source the system of emanations which has enjoyed such a great renown in the school of Alexandria. According to this system, the Absolute Unity, or God, was conceived as the spiritual Soul of the Universe, the Principle of existence, the Light of lights; it was believed that this creative Unity, inaccessible to the understanding even, produced by emanation a diffusion of light which, proceeding from the centre to the circumference, losing insensibly its splendour and its purity in proportion as it receded from its source, ended by being absorbed in the confines of darkness; so that its divergent rays, becoming less and less spiritual and, moreover, repulsed by the darkness, were condensed in commingling with it, and, taking a material shape, formed all the kinds of beings that the world contains. Thus was admitted, between the Supreme Being and man, an incalculable chain of intermediary beings whose perfections decreased proportionably with their alienation from the Creative Principle. All the philosophers and all the sectarians who admired this spiritual hierarchy considered, under the relations peculiar to them, the different beings of which it was composed. The Persian magians who saw there genii, more or less 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, having received by tradition during their captivity in Babylon, called _Kabbala_.[266] This magic became mixed with astrology among the Chaldeans, who regarded the stars as animated beings belonging to the universal chain of divine emanations; in Egypt, it became linked with the mysteries of Nature, and was enclosed in the sanctuaries, where it was taught by the priests under the safeguard of symbols and hieroglyphics. Pythagoras, in conceiving this spiritual hierarchy as a geometrical progression, considered the beings which 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 different beings, their relations and their influences. Hierocles mentions a sacred book attributed to this philosopher, in which he called the divinity, the Number of numbers.[267] Plato, who, some centuries later, regarded these same beings as ideas and types, sought to penetrate their nature and to subjugate them by dialectics and the force of thought. Synesius, who united the doctrine of Pythagoras to that of Plato, sometimes called God, the Number of numbers, and sometimes the Idea of ideas.[268] The gnostics gave to the intermediary beings the name of Eons.[269] This name, which signifies, in Egyptian, a principle of the will, being developed by an inherent, plastic faculty, is applied in Greek to a term of infinite duration.[270] One finds in Hermes Trismegistus the origin of this change of meaning. This ancient sage remarks that the two faculties, the two virtues of God, are the understanding and the soul, and that the 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 being always the same.[271] But, not content with assimilating beings of the celestial hierarchy to ideas, to numbers, or to the plastic principle of the will, there were philosophers who preferred to designate them by the name of Words. Plutarch said on one occasion that words, ideas, and divine emanations reside in heaven and in the stars.[272] Philo gives in more than one instance the name of word to angels; and Clement of Alexandria relates that the Valentinians often called their Eons thus.[273] According to Beausobre, the philosophers and theologians, seeking for terms in which to express incorporal substances, designated them by some one of their attributes or by some one of their operations, naming them _Spirits_, on account of the subtlety of their substance; _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, always equal, without change and without alteration.[274] Pythagoras called them Gods, Heroes, Demons,[275] relative to their respective elevation and the harmonious position of the three worlds which they inhabit. This cosmogonic ternary joined with Creative Unity, constitutes the famous Quaternary, or Sacred Tetrad, the subject of which will be taken up further on.

PURIFICATION

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

The aim of the doctrine of Pythagoras was to enlighten men, to purify them of their vices, to deliver them from their errors, and to restore them to virtue and to truth; and after having caused them to pass through all the degrees of the understanding and intelligence, to render them like unto the immortal gods.

This philosopher had for this purpose divided his doctrine into two parts: the purgative part and the unitive part. Through the first, man became purified of his uncleanness, emerged from the darkness of ignorance, and attained to virtue: through the second, he used his acquired virtue to become united to the Divinity through whose means he arrived at perfection. These two parts are found quite distinct in the Golden Verses. Hierocles, who has clearly grasped them, speaks of it in the beginning of his _Commentaries_ and designates them by two words which contain, he said, all the doctrine of Pythagoras, _Purification_ and _Perfection_.[276] The Magians and the Chaldeans, all of whose principles Pythagoras had adopted, were agreed on this point, and in order to express their idea, made use of a parabolical phrase very celebrated among them. “We consume,” they said, “the refuse of matter by the fire of divine love.”[277] An anonymous author who has written an history of Pythagoras, preserved by Photius, said that the disciples of this great man taught that one perfects oneself in three ways: in communing with the gods, in doing good in imitation of the gods, and in departing from this life to rejoin the gods.[278] The first of these ways is contained in the first three lines of the Golden Verses which concern the cult rendered, according to the law and according to the faith, to the Gods, to the glorified Heroes, and to the Spirits. The second, that is, the Purification, begins at the fourth line which makes the subject of this Examination. The third, 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 made of this short poem is not at all arbitrary, as one sees the judicious Bayle had remarked it before me.[279]