R^ OF P3%> * APR HI 1900 * Divis.on.lbS 1-^-75 Section.x8.»'K3^ N* .. . T COHELET, OR, THE PREACHER. TP.AySLATEU FROM THE HECr.EW. WITH A STUDY ON THE AGE AND CHARACTER OF THE BOOK. BY ERNEST RENAN, (Mef?ibcr of the French Academy.) LONDON: MATHIESON & COMPANY, STUDY ON THE AGE AND CHAEACTER OF THE BOOK. "TN the unique and admirable volume, wliicli the Jewish nation has given to humanity, called by all nations the Bible, the religious idea is so j)redominant that we are surprised to find in it several profane selections. The Song of Songs proves, as Ave might indeed have supposed, a priori, tliat ancient Israel Avas, at that time, still in its youth. A second book, even more singular, Ecclesiastes, shows that this people, apparently imbued to the core Avith a passion for justice, the eager avengers of the honour of Jehovah, were at various times sceptical. I have at- tempted to explain the Song of Songs and to resolve some of the difficulties Avhich this book presents. In the picture of the conscience of Israel I now seek to sketch 1 consider that a narrow examination of Ecclesiastes is indispensable. The problem is, in a sense, a more easy one ; for if the obscurities of detail in Ecclesiastes are at least as numerous as they are In Job and the Song oj Songs, the general character and the relative age of the book give rise to as many 4 STUDY OX ECCLESIASTES. doubts. The work is certainly to be accoiintecl- aiiiong tbe most modern in Hebrew literature, As- for the sct^^ptical or epicurian character of tlie com-- position, we might eiisilj raise difficulties as to the- precise sense of two or three verses; still, that Avould be of little moment. If the author himself did not hold with scepticism, he has at least traversed it, and given the most complete, incisive, and clear theory of it. Yet peop'e are influenced but little by scepticism, - Tii'^y get hardened to it in proportion to the efforts put forth to escap)e from it. Even he who succeeds,- in appearance, in escaping from it, borrows from it an ineffacable imprint, just as at the height of a- fever the patient is drowsy and always ready to- Tvake up. -X- I. rtlHE little book, now in question, has at its head a- quaint word of four letters, QHLT, which taken by itself, cannot be satisfactorily explained. It is the name, however, of the person who, through- - out the whole book, holds speech. Indeed, the book is simply a discourse, a sort of confession, a medley of counsels, that the author places in the mouth of a certain QHLT, whom he supposes to have been the son of David and King of Jerusalem. Compare- Proverbs i., 1. We very quickly perceive, however^, that QHLT is only a pseudonym for designating STUDY ON ECCLESIASITS. '5 ■^oloinon. There are similar examples of these ficti- tious nnmes in the books of wisdom. Prov., Ch., XXX. and xxxi. Q, H L T, son of David, has been a powerful king, a great builder, and a man of plea- sure ; devoted to women, to Avine aud to wisdom ; a parabolist savant, curious in regard to everjthino- in nature ; and these are precisely the characteristics in which narrative and legend represent Solo- mon. No one doubts that the author, who certainly was acquainted with the proverbs, also attributed to Solomon, did not wish to put in the foreground the I successor of David. This celebrated king appeared to him simply as a convenient personage for the object he had proposed to himself ; namely, to point .out the vanity of everything. Solomon had attained the summit of glory and prosperity, and was in a Ijetter position than any other person to discover tht^ absolute hoUowness of all the springs of human life %and the complete frivolity of the opinions upon which societ}' is based. Did the author wish, like so many others, like the .Alexandrian author of Wisdom, for examj)le, to at- tribute one book more to Solomon ? Is Ecdeslastes an apocryphy, or one of the writings of that vastpseudo- -epigraphic literature which, from Judas Maccabeus to Barkokeba, has never ceased to show itself fruitful in various productions '? Not quite. When a Jewish author, belonging to the centuries bordering on the commencement of our era, sought to inculcate oii his contemporaries some forcible thought, heassinnel the mantle of an ancient prophet or of a celebrated man, such as Moses, Enoch, Baruch, or Esdras, and -did his utmost to make it appear that his compositioa O STUDY ON ECCLESIASTES. was the work of those ancient personages, an J, what is more, generally made people believe it, for at that time no idea of literar}^ criticism existed. But such was not altogether the intention of our author* The writer of apocrypha is always a fanatic, who puts to one side his amoiir-proiwe in the interest of his cause. We see clearly his aim and the opinion for which he labours. The author of Ecclesiastes, on. the contrary, would have been very angry if people had deemed him capable of any kind of proselytism. And though he has not told us his name, he is yet far from being indifferent to all literary pretentions ; na}', he sometimes breaks off abruptly and abandons fiction in a manner which creates surprise. At the end of the work, after. the last words he puts into the mouth of Solomon (chapter xii., verses 9-10) he speaks in his, own name and disassociates himself completely from Solomon. Verses 11-12, which follow, form no portion of the work, but they clearly show that the composition, when it appeared, de- ceived nobody, that it was accepted as modern; that, in a word, the book was taken for one of those Imgiographic writings which were being added day by day to the Tlwrci and to the ancient prophets. Instead of splitting up the old volume, in order to insert in it the new Solomonian writinix to follow the Proverbs, he puts the more recent production at the end of the sacred collection ; Avhere, according to all appearances, it occupied for a long time the very last plac*. The author, hence, is no more an im- postor than Avas Plato in Parmenide or in The Timee, Desirous of giving us a specimen of Eleatic philo- sophy, Plato selects Parmenide ; desirous of giving STUDY ON ECCLESIASTES. 7 •Qs a speciuien of Pjtliagorian plnlosoplij, lie cliooses Timee, and he puts in their nio'iths discourses con- formable to the doctrines of their schools. Thus, too, does our anthor. Solomon with him is merely a borrowed name, for the ideas he regards as appro- priate to the legendary type of the ancient king of Jerusalem. Indeed he does more than this. The plan he adopts of putting his pessimistic and sceptical views under cover of Solomon, he places but little store thereby. He betrays himself each moment. The person he makes speak explains himself at first, indeed, in a manner that well becomes the son of David. Afterwards, the author puts to one side a fiction into which he has been drawn, simply to give expression again to his grievances and ennuis ► He has hardly quitted Chap. IV. when he forgets that he has put Solomon in evidence ; and he hence- forward ceases to look seriously on his fable. It is indeed on his own account he speaks when he relates to us the misfortunes he has had with women ; the sadness of his solitary life, the pains he has taken ta make a fortune, and the anxieties which beset him in respect of his heirs. Unfaithful to his promise, he henceforth expresses himself as he really is, that is to say, like a Jewish man of business, greatly preoccu- pied with the investment of his funds, and as to what "will become of his fortune after his deatli."^ Some of the developments are absolutely out of place or even denuded of sense, in the mouth of a sovereign. t Such liberties of composition. ♦ See, for example, II. 11, IS, et seq. ; IV. 7, seq. t See, for example, IV. 13 et seq. ; V. 7, et seq. ; VIII , 2, et seq. ■6 STUDY OX ECCLESIASTES. are likewise frequent in the book of Job. These great and beautiful works of antiquity pro- ceed in total disrej^ard of our pitiful classical niceties of veri-similitude. In the former, the cha- racters are only moderately consistent with them- selves. The preoccupation of human destiny is so absorbing in those great souls, that the petty requirements of unity and of literary composition iare speedily banished from their thoughts. The fiction employed by them is mere play, only a. pretext. Instead of designating Solomon by his name, the author, conformably to a certain taste for mystery affected by parabolist writers, designates him by the four letters Q H L T, which remain, up to the pre- sent day, unintelligible. The vowels, in compliance with usage, are wanting ; but it is probable that the author intended them to read: Qo Kb L^ T. In one passage of the text"^ the quiescent has been intro- duced between the two first letters. The Greeks, from the third century of our era at least, pronounced them KcoeXed t. The Massorites have hence fol- lowed a tradition in punctuating Q^ H^ L^ T, and the 'Greek translator evidently read it in the same man- Mi er, when he translated the word by ^EKK\r}crt,a(TL7]^, — • ^' preacher." Q^ H^ L, in fact, is the exact equi- Talent of the Greek iKKXTjaia. Some hare hence concluded that Q^ H^ L meant a haranguer, eKKXrja- .id^oiv ; others again, for grammatical reason*, more iplausible than solid, thought they coTild establish * Ch.apter xii., 8. The Syriac translation has everywhere Quohalto. f Origen, in Eusebius. Hist. Eccles., vi. 25. STUDY ON ECCLESIASTES. if that Qo He Lb T, with its feminine form, should liave the same meaning. Kohelet would thus be a sort of symbolic name "for Solomon, and regarded as a kind of preacher to, and teacher of, assembled multitudes. No doubt, -there is very little that is natural in all this. It •:smacks too much of the methods of that old exe- getical school which, from the most undecipherable, .-even most corrupt, texts, was obliged to extract .some meaninnf. There is no book that has less of the tone of a moral preacher about it than the one now in question ; the feminine form, whatever 3)eople say, is a strong objection. All the explana- tions which have been attempted of the A\^ord •^^o He Lk T cannot explain away impossibilities. It is, therefore, excusable in one to seek from other .sources solutions more conformable with the true spirit of philology, even at the risk of not succeeding •ontirely in satisfying oneself. The Hebrews, from very remote times, were in 'the habit of playing upon proper names, and of iipplyingto them fantastic combinations, the principal -of which are the Albam and Athasch. Both consist 4n dividing the twenty-two letters into two registers, which are made to coincide, either by placing them ■in juxtaposition, or in adapting them one to the -other, like a set of hinges. In the former system the first letter (alepli) mutcites with the twelfth (lamed), -±X\Q second (bet) with the thirteenth (mem). In the .-second system the first letter (aleph) mutates with the Jast {Lav), the second letter (bet), with the penultimate ^schin), and so on. We have examples of this play tipon letters in Jeremiah : that is to say, about six 10 STUDY ON ECCLESIASTES. liunclred years before Christ. Thus, bj this proce- dure [athasch), the name of Babel (BBL) becomes^ S S K, the name oi'^Casdim (KSDIM) becomes L B O M I (Jer.,xxv., 26 ; li. 1-41).* Pressing this play still further, they place certain vowels with letters in groups thus : they read Lesaq, Leh qamai, and seek haphazard to give a meaning to the words thus ob- tained, precisely as if in French, one formed witli the well known letters SGDG a word sagidog or sugidag, wliich should be explained by the ordinary rules of etymology. The name QHLT having just four letters like S M L H, the name of Solomon in Hebrew, the idea that Q HL T is only a transformation of S L M H by a progress analagous to alhan or athasch arises at once to the mind. Unfortunately, we do not gain anything by taking this view ; for the four letters of the two series do not present any parallel- lism, while the various meanings which they them- selves suggest, even to the superficial observer, dis- courage entirely all quest in that direction for the key to the enigma. Another source of artificial words in Hebrew waS" the habit of forming words from the initials of other words. Thus, in the Middle Ages, Mamonide (Eab- bai, Moses, Ben Maimon) was called Ramhani : the celebrated Rabbin of Troy, Rabbi Schelomo Ishaki, was called Raschi. In the Bible, one is at liberty to suppose that the inexplicable word Selah, a> characteristic of the Psalms, which the Greek transla- * It is a mistake to seek to regard those fantastic forms as an alteration of the ancient text. Ch. Graf, Der Proohefc Jeremiah, p. 333, GO-1. STUDY ON ECCLESIASTES. 11 tors rendered bj BLa-^akfMu, had an analagons origin. Was the word QHLT formed in the same way? It is impossible to say. Those sort of symbols are. in fact, undecipherable seeing we are not furnished with any explanation of them. It is an undetermined problem, suscej)tible of solutions ad infinihim. If, in the course of two thousand years, several texts did define the meaning of S G D G, people would never divine that it was intended to convey, " Without the warrant of the government" ISans garanite clii gouvernement.'] Lebanon offers in this respect a curious example. All the faces of the rocks in the region of High Lebanon, which are somewhat smooth, bear the formula A G Y I C F, repeated hundreds of times. In three or four places I have found the complete reading A E B R V M G E IsT E E A IV CETERA PRIVATA^, whence it follows that it referred to the cutting down of trees and to the kinds to be reserved for the fleet. To be sure,, we could not, without the discovery of the complete reading have ever suspected such an individual thing. We incline, then, to the belief that the four letters QHLT did not originally stand for an actual word. But the word being once formed it was regarded by the author as a substantive designation, seeing that in the two cases t the group Q H L T is preceded by the article. Parabolic poetry is fond of these enigmas. The two moral poems intercalated in the book of Proverbs (ch. xxx and xxxi.) both commence with proper names, which, up to the present day, remain undeciphered logogriphs. * See Mission de Pl'.oenicie, p. 258, et seq, t Ch. vii., 27 ; xii., 8. 22 STUDY ON ECCLESIASTES. II. ECCLESIASTES lias in days gone by been regarded as the most obscure book in the Bible. This 'was the opinion of the theologians — an opinion, however, altogether fabe in reality. The book, -iiaken as a whole, is very clear; only the tbeo- ;lo; essentially mortal. God rendered it imuiorral through favour and by a. kind" of miracle. It has to be noted that Justin and Tatiau weie SMiaus. fcte Alarcus Auruiiu.--, p. 111. 24 STUDY ON ECCLESIASTES. tliis is wlij tlie Israelilisli element lias, in our time, in every country in wliicli it resides, become an element of reform and progress. Snint-Simonisni and the industrial and financial mysticism of our days result in great measure from Judaism. In the Trench revolutionary movements the Jewish element j)lays a capital role. It is on this earth that he seeks to realise the grea^^est amount of justice .possible. The Jewish tikva, *' confidence," that assurance that the destiny of man ought not to be 'lightly treated, and that a brilliant and glorious future awaits humanity, is not the ascetic hope of a paradise contrary to the nature of man; it is philo- ; sophic optimism founded on an act of invincible faith in the reality of the good. Cohelet takes his definite plnce in this history of 'the protracted combat of the Jewish conscience against the iniquity of the world. He represents a V pause in the struggle. In him there is not a trace of Messianism, of the resurrection, of religious fanaticism, of patriotism, of special regard for his race. The day of Jehovah (the Judgment Day) will never arrive : God is in heaven ; He shall never reign on the earth. Cohelet sees the inutility of the tentatives made to conciliate the justice of God -with the train of events in the world. He takes His part in these. When a man has fulfilled his primary duties towards his Creator he has only to live in j)eace, enjoy at his ease the fortune he has lionestly acquired, tranquilly await old age, de- scribing the latter in pleasing language. The subtle and voluptuous temperament of the author shows that he had more than a peaceful conscience to ^ console him in his pessimistic philosophy. Like all / talented pessimists he loved life ; the idea of suicide, which for a moment crossed the mind of Job,"^ iu * Job vii. 15. STUDY ON ECCLESIASTES. 25 ■yiew of tlie wickedness of the world, never once ooks of "Judith" and "Tobias," all of which were contemporaneous with the appearance of the new Christian Bible, and which, in like manner, have ■ only been conserved to us through the Greek, Latin, or Oriental translations. It is impossible to place Cohelet amongst the group of the great classic writings of Israel, which latter came to an end about the advent of the Achemenidian dynasty, with the works of Hagai, Zachariah, Malachiah. Neither can the author be reckoned as belonging to the troop of blustering Jerusalem 2)rophets, nor to the sixth century (the century which followed the ruin of the kingdom of Judali), for Israel, so full of sorrow, despair, religious enthusiasm, and hope, that we can assign our sceptic. We have only to call to mind the brilliant dreams of the future of the second Isaiah, and of several psalmists. There are hours when the soul, the most blasee, becomes patriotic. The sixth century was for the Jewish people -one of such hours. Doubtless, when we go further back, we find the parabolic schools, in particular that which appeared to be grouped around Hezekiah, svith which our author has more than one affinity. C7UDT ON ECCLESIASTE3, 29' But tlie laiinrnnpro of the Cohelet benrs so eviJentlr the characteristics of an age relatively modern, that- any hypotheses -which would place the book side by side Avith classic monuments of the genius of Israel^ must be absolutely discarded. The Cohelet is certainly posterior to the advent of the Achemenides — that is • to say, to the year 500, before J.C. Several reasoiiins^s of the same order would have- US believe that it is antei'ior to the crisis precij^itated. by Antinchns Epiphanes, about the year 170, before J.C. We can hardly conceive our author as living' in the midst of the p^.ssionateMessianists during the times of the Macchabees. From that date until the war of Hadrian, Israel was stricken [with fever: she was an infant in sorrow ; she suffered for humanity.- Our aathor, on the contrary, is the most self-satisfied of men : neither patriotism nor Messianism troubled.., him: he only laments to himself: his sorrows and,. his consolations are for himself alone. We slionld. here say that Judiasm had not yet been persecuted. The consequence to be drawn from this is that the Cohelet must have been composed under the Achemenides, or at the time of Alexander, or at the- time of the domination of the Ptolemies in Palestine. But, we repeat it, all such inductions are most often deceptive. A nation never marches so squarely abreast, that lateral currents cannot issue from her. In that age of exaltation, which extended from Judas Maccabees to Barkokeba, there were some very peaceable Epicurians, men very indifferent in their zeal either for the great interests of Israel, or for those of humanity. Some isolated groups preserved • their liberty of thought. The fanaticism of the Asmoneans quickly evaporated. Those Sadducees who believed neither in angels, nor spirits, nor in the resurrection: those Bcethusim, whose name was- synonymous with Epicurian, all that rich aristocracy of priests in Jerusalem, who lived in the temple, and 30 STUDY 0:7 ECCLEGIACTIZS. whose religions liilve-wnrmncss irritated so mucli Jesus, and tlie founders of Cliristianity,^ were, in very truth, the intellectual brothers of our author. M. Grcetz has developed with his marvellous resources of knowledge, and with a mind +he most ingenious, the thesis that the Cohelet was written a few years before the death of Jesus, under the reign of Herod, and that the mythic Solomon in question was Herod himself. Herod, by dint of labour and intrigue, strove lo resuscitate the legendary grandeur -of the son of David, and to the end of his life only reaped the maledictions of the people, domestic sorrows and ennui. In such a case the books would be a kind of satire, a book of opposition, full of allusions and of malice. There is hardly a veiselet of the Cohelet in which M. Gra3tz does not see some circumstance related to the narrative of Josephus. The system of M. Grsetz, though in places very- seductive, is, in its ensemble, unsustainable. But there is one thing which this Israelitish savant lias, indeed, proved, viz.: that one cannot descend too low •Avlierethe question to be determined is that of fixing the date of the Cohelet. Several most refined obser- vations, which, however, had been made by M. ISTali- man Krockmal before M. Grsetz, on the last verselets, shows that there is nothing to prove that the compo- sition of the book may not go back to a period anterior to the Herodeans or Asmoneans. The lano-uage is liere evidently the most important critcrium. Generally speaking, it is easy enough to distinguish a Hebrew work of the grand epoch, that is to say, anterior to the year 500, from posterior Hebrew works, such as Esther, Esdras, Nehemiah, the Chronicles, and Daniel. The old Hebrew style has a character al! its own — firm, nervous, solid as a .-cable, twisted, enigmatic. The modern Hebrew, on * See " Life of Jesus," Ch. xiii. STTTPY OX i;(.<:;..-?;«A.6Ti':s. Ihe contrary, is disjointed, \vithout timbre, dabby, analogus in every respect to the Aramean. Aranieau ■ isms abound in it : ^vriting composed in tliat dialect can be translated word for word into Aramean, Avithont losing anything. It is not so with the ■Cohelet. No doubt the language of the book is modern ; but it is not greatly tainted with Aramean- isms : it would be almost impossible to translate the book into Syriac. That which this Hebrew resembles most is the Mischna, and, above all, the treatise Eduoith,ih.e Pirheahoth, the MegiUatJi Taanith, Now, ■the Mischna represents the Hebrew of the second section, after J.C., Hebrew very different from the language, so strongly Aramean, which had come into Togue among the Jews about the Achemenidian ^poch. From the language, the Cohelet appears to •be tl;e most recent of the books of the Bible, the nearest neighbour of the Talmud. The paleographic considerations, if one may so -express oneself, lead to the same conclusions. One incontestable result of the critical stud}^ to which the book, in these later times, has been subjected, is the ^warm of copists' errors.^ jSTow, all these errors have been committed in the modern Hebrew alphabet, which has been called the alphabet carre. This alpha- l)et, which is the Aramean alphabet itself, or at least something which has proceeded from tJio njic^enfc jilphabet in consequence of modificn,tions identical with those which have produced Aramean t, was tije :alpliabet in use about the Asmonean epoch ; all whicii proves that the Cohelet was written and first copied in an alphabet very much in use, much worn out, with some ligatures, where several letters resembled one * Sep. the appendice at tlie end of this volume. The Kerhis, or variants, admitted by the Ma sore itself, contains the same cliarac- ter. See, for example, xii. 8. t The text itself of the inscription of the Beni-Hezir, near Je usTlem, was nearlv contemporaneous with Jesus Christ. 32 STUDY OX ECCLESIASTES. anotlier, and which appenred as a series of verticaP characters r aiming' into one another, and verj easily confounded. One can see that the book had at first nothing sacred about it, nothing official. It was a private production, guarded a long time as such, and copied with all the faults which result from the use- of a common character. The Greek translation of the Cohelet presents some special traits, which likewise would have us beiievo that the book was late in entering the Canon, n'vl was inserted in it as a kind of appendice. If the- latter translation was not by Aquila, it belongs ;it. least to his school, and has his manner. Aqnihi^ translated at the time of Hadrian, about 130, before- J.C., and under the influence of the ideas of Rabbi Aquiba,"^ the fundamental principal of Rabbi AquibLu was that every word, in the text of the Bible, has a value peculiar to itself, and adds a shade of meanino- to the sense. Aqnila concluded from this that each Hebrew word ought to be translated by a Greek word. Of all Hebrew words, the word most destitute of meaning is sr.rely the particle et, Avhich is used to- mark the direct regime of the verb. A sensible G reek translator has performed his duty when he puts the- word, preceded by this particle, in the accusative- case. Aquila did not understand it thus. He systematically rended et by avv, though in Greek that did not make any sense. Translating, foi-- example, the first book of Genesis, he says, "That God avv Tov ovpavov koX crvv ttjv 7?}z^." Now this capricious peculiarity is invariably observed in the Greek translation of the Cohelet, which, forms part of the orthodox Greek Bible. t This translation is,, moreover, distinguished by its extreme literalness. * See the Christian Church, n. 4? q. t Grffitz, Kohelet, p. 175, et seq. See also Uccl ii., 17; ifi , i7;. viii., 8, 15, 17; ix., 15; xi., 7; xii., 9, 14. Note avinras for et ki^y. iz., 1. STUDY ON ECCLESIASTES. *3'S It must then have been done under the influence of the ideas of Eabbi Aquila. Was it done by Aquila himself? That is very doubtful, for a Greek version, different from the latter, appears in the Hexaples of Origen, under the name of Aquila. But Aquila often made several versions of the same book. The two Tersions are, at least, undoubtedly contemporaneous: for that capricious mania of rendering et by aw endured only for a short time. It is to be found jilso in the Greek translation, now lost, of the- Apocalypse of Esdras, a work belonging to the first century of our era.^ It would seem, then, that the Cohelet was not translated into Greek until about the year 130 before J.C. This coincides with the fact that no citation of it is to be found in tlie Christian authors of the- first and second centuries. What was the reason of this delay in the translation of the Cohelet, seeing- that all the other Hebrew writings passed into- Greek in tlie third and second centuries before J.C. ?' Probably, because it did not, at that epoch, form a part of the Bible ; j^erhaps, even, because it had not yet been written. t The last verses, in fact, present several peculiarities,, •which would lead one to consider the book as the- most modern of the Hebrew Bible. M. I^'ahman Krochmal was the first to remark that the work terminated in reality at verse 10 of Chapter xii. The two verses that follow have no connection with the work, and must have served as a final clausule to- the Bible collection when the Cohelet constituted the last pages of the volume. It is not by accident that this little quatrain is found inserted at the end of * Ch. vi., 59, cum seovio, which is surely the translation of avt^ rbv aiwia. See the Christian Church, pp. 120, 122. t It is by no means certain that the Cohelet formed a portion of the general calculation of the sacred books given by Josephus, Centre AjAon, i., 8. '^4 STUDY ON ECCLESIASTES. €iir boot, and not at the end of tlie Chronicles, or Esther, or Dpcniel, which hitter also, for a long time, .formed the last pages of the sacred volume. The addition of our book to the Canon appears then to be of recent date, and the traces of which are still to be perceived. The book does not embrace a great number of traits which can be of service in sketching a picture of the times in which the author lived. It is easy to see from the state of his mind, that the old manners Iiad passed away. The family was destroyed. The wife, in consequence of the scandals of the Selucidian •ej)och, nnd in view of the frightful domestic crimes of the Herodian age, was become a scourge. What sustained the ancient snge when his philosophy was too much shaken, was the hope of his children surviving him. Posterity consoled him for the frailty of the individual life. In this manner of reasoning our author sees bitter deception. Yv^hat can one know of one's children ? They will perhaps turn out fools, who will cover one with shame, and demolish that which one has sought to build up. The true commentary of the Cohelet is to be found in thexiiand xiii books of the Antiquities of Josephus, that tissue of crimes and of basenesses, which, above all, from the year 200 (before J.C.) until a little later, constituted the history of Palestine. The Hasidim escaped its realism through their Missianic dreams ; our author escapes it through his taste for .a refined life. The Temple of Jerusalem existed when the book was written, and when woiship still flourished^ there. The priesthood was invested with certain temporal powers. t There were some pious zealots, who : exaggerated the prescriptions, and falsified religion by extravagant zeal and austerity. Jerusalem Avas * Ch. iv., 17 et scq. t Ch. v., 5. STUDY ON ECCLESIASTES. 35 ilie seat of a royalty and of a court,^ in which some insignificant notables of the city aspired to shine. Dynasties and independent cities swarmed in Syria,t and they made endless wars with one another. A little city would have a Sea to maintain. It would seem that any great power, like that of the Achemenides, Alexander, the Ptolemies, or the .Selucides did not make itself felt. J The date when we discover a similar social state in Judea and in the Orient is about the year 125 before J.C. The power of the Selucides had given way and had given place to the small local dynasties, ,and to autonomous cities. § The kingdom of Israel had been restored by the Asmoneans. This dynasty, though it had proceeded from burning fanaticism, especially after the rupture with the Pharisees under John Hyrcan, became soon profane enough. Alex- iinder Jannea and John Hyrcan, were, like some other kings, religious through habit and politics ; cruel, avaricious, wicked, and at bottom hardly at all devotees. This was at the time of the Hasidim and the beginning of sects, like the Essenians, who justly, through reactions n gainst the perversions of the world, introduced into Iraelitism a spirit of mysticism, until then unknown. Those peoj^le, called ^' fools," who gave themselves up to the practice of a perfernid acetisim, to bootless abstinences, who vainly preoccupied themselves with the future, and with that which would happen after death, who * Cli. viii., 1 cf seq. f Ch. ix., 1-i et seq. The precise allusions which M. Hitzig and M. Gi-Ktz find in their passages result from arbitary and accidental ^combinations. •^ The word viedina to designate a province (V. 7.) and the fact of slaves, governors, and high functionaries (s. 7, 16) would^have been uiore 'characteristic of the Persian epoch, but the administrative conditions of the Orient never varies much. § We mic-ht cite the whole of the eras of autonomous cities which -date, in Syria, from about the year 125. ,36 STUDY ON ECCLESIASTES. tliouglit it wicked that a man should peaceably enjoy' the fortune he had acquired by honest labour, were- probably the first, in point of time, of those fools of the kingdom of God, whose folly was spreading in the world, and whom our author, and others like* him, reo^arded with absolute disdain. If it is essential for one to fix a date somewhat precise, it was about that time, that is to say, about a hundred years before the birth of Christ, that 1 should place the composition of the Cohelet. The- author was probably some great-grand-father of Anne or of Cniphus, belonging to those priestly aristocrats avIio condemned Jesus with so light a heart. He Avas the ideal of what was called a Sadducee, I mean one of those rich men who were without fanaticism, without beliefs of any kind in regard to the future, attached to the worship of the • Temple, where they made their fortune, furious against the fanatics, and always delighted when one- of the latter was put to death. It has often been attempted to prove that the philosophy of onr^ auttior bore traces of the influence of the Greek L' philosophy. Nothing could be more wide of the mark. Everything in the book is absolutely ex-- plained by the logical development of the Jewish thought. The author was in all probability posterior to Epicurus, but it would indeed seem that he had not received a Hellenic education. His style is- Semitic to the last degree. In the whole of his language, there is not a Greek word, not a charac- teristic Hellinism.^ On the other hand, he does not press nearly so far as Epicurus the radical negation of Providence and the principle of the listlessness of the Gods in regard to things humau. His physics f are sensible enough, but they are the result rather,. * None of the examples alleged by M. Grsetz, Kohelet, p. 179 et xed; appear to me decisive. \ Ch. i. 5 et seq. STUDY OX ECCLESIASTES. 37 rlike as in tlie case of Tliales and Heraclites, of cornet general observation, than of actual scientific Avork, after tlie manner of Arcliimedes or the .-school of Alexandria. The just mien of his ethics has undoubtedly some :analogues in Greece, at Cyrene especially. He marched always side by side with Theodosus of •Cyrene,"^ without shrinking from his boldly irreligious assertions. Aristippus of Cyrene recognised, in many respects, his confrere in the easy-going Jew, Trhom no prejudice could blind, and who came to j^lace the supreme end of life in tranquil enjoyment. ■Cyrer.e, together with Alexandria, was the city in. which were to be found the greatest number of Jews. But the same causes produce, in human families, the most diverse and similar effects. An honest man is the same in Europe, China, or Japan. Greece, in good truth, could not have written so despondent a work. The Cohelet is a work of absolute decrepitude. Never was man more stricken with age, more com- jpletely exhausted. And to think that this sceptical "Nvork, at once so elegant and so gloomy, was written but a short time before the Gospel and the Talmud ! ^A peculiar people, in very truth, and created to ^present all manner of contrasts ! This people have given God to the world, and hardly believe in Him themselves. They have created religion, and they .are the least religious of p)eoples. They have founded the hopes of humanity in a Kingdom of Heaven, while all its sages keep repeating to us that we must -only occupy ourselves with the things of this earth. 'Tlie most enlightened nations take seriously what ^his people have r reached, while the latter laugh at the former. Their ancient literature has excited the fanaticism of all nations, and they know the weak fiides of it better than any one else. To-day, as * Diogeues Lsertus, ii, 86 ; vi, 97. 38 STUDY OX ECCLESIASTES. was the case two tliousand years a^o, tliej tvouIcI' as readily close the sacred roll with the brief reflec- tion of the reader who loves his ease : " Enough of inspired books like tlint ! Too much reading is a- weariness to the flesh." ^^■■ V. IT was not until about the close of the first century of our era that people began to speak of the- book Cohelet. After the destruction of Jerusalem by Titus, the centre of JeAvish authority was trans- ferred to Jabne or Jamnia, situated about four leao-ues and a half to the south of Jaffa .f Here- Judaism was reorganised and concentrated; here, in. particular, about the year 80 of our era, the question was raised as to the ancient books which should be- preserved and should form part of the Canon, Job, Ezechiel, the Song of Songs and the Proverbs- gave rise to more than one objection, because of several novel ideas, certain audacious exx^ressions,. and one or two freeJy-drawn pictures of life. They were, nevertheless, retained. In like manner a question arose as to the Cohelet. % The libertine- tone which pervaded it was calculated to create- trouble in so pious an epoch. The discussion was- lively; the book, however, carried the day.§ A few apparently religious verses saved the rest.|| * JSccl, ch. xii. 12. t See the Gospels, p. 19 et seq. X 'Mischna,,£d2uoth,Y.3; Jadaim, iii. 5; Abboth derabbi Nathan^ c.l. § See the Gospels, p. 35. II For example, xi. 9; xii. 1, and even xii. 13, 14, a passage whicV at the epoch of the Sanhedrin of Jabne, which was already-" recognized to be an integral portion of the book CoMlet. STUDY OX ECCLESIASTE3. oD Tlie times, moreover, were favouriible to fantastical interpretations. People no longer read a book in order to discover its natural meaning. They sought for a thousand meanings of vrhich the author had never dreamt. They had found sublime mysteries, in collections of letters thrown together at hazard. An ancient text had become a sort of conjurino^ book, which served as a play upon words. Whether a text signified this or that was a matter of little importance. People had no longer eyes to see, nor to read with. For the rest, people, as a rule, lead badly when they read on their knees. In such circumstances it is not surprising that people should make of a love dialogue a book for editication, of a sceptical book, a book of sacred philosophy. The doctors at Jabne understood neither the one nor the other, and that was very fortunate ; for if they had understood them they would cer~ tainly have destroyed the books which held them up to ridicule. The accredited error as to the author of the two books were also, in some respects, salutary. They believed the books were written by Solomon, and such a respectable origin prevented them from seeing objections. The wisdom of Jesus, son of Sirach, which did not jDresent nearly so many serious difficulties as regards orthodoxy, was arrested on the threshold of canonicity, because it contained a too frank avowal of its modern origin. The author paid the penalty of his sincerity. According to the spirit of the age, a book which did not bear the name of a patriarch, a prophet, or some old venerated scribe, had no authority. About the year 100 of our era, the Colielet then formed a part of the Jewish Bible. About the year 135, Aquila translated it into Greek, and the Chris- > tians then commenced to read it. The consequence of this reading left behind it at first a very faint impression. The Christians, with tiieir usual assur— 40 STUDY ON ECCLESIASTES. aiice, in goinp^ to be mar+yred, in view of the near advent of divine justice, could not relisli very mncli the discournfrin^: utterances of our Z>Zase indifferentist. Neither St. Justin, St. Greneus, TertulHan nor Clement of Alexandria, cites Ecclesiastes.'^ The Churcli, nevertheless, in regard to judgments on the •canonicity of books, still relied on tlie synagogue. Every Hebrew book, as soon as it was translated into 'Greek, became a sacred book. The translation of Aquilawns thus introduced into the Church. Origen (about 230) phiced the Cohelet, without reserve • or distiuction, amoug the sacred books. About 230, Dionysius of Alexandria commented on it.t Later, -John Cbrysostom extracted from it some very •eloquent phrases on the morrow of the disgrace of Eutrope, and, at the monieut of the fall of Rome, St. Jerome read it to St. Blesville in order to console .her, and to show her how that everything here below •was vanity. J The vulgar and peurile exegeses of the middle rages, took no account of the difficulties which the book presented to anyone capable of reflection. The first Grotius avowed that ceitain passages in the book had given him great offence. He perceived also, very clearly, that the language was posterior to the captivity. Yan der Palm, Umbreit, Knobel, Herzfeld, Luzzatto, Jalin, Augusti, de Wette, saw 'tlie sceptimism of the author, but did not attempt to • explain it. A most erroneous idea, to wit, a dialogue * The traces which some have thought they saw in the Testament of 'itJie T/velve Patriarchs (Nepht., ii. 8/ and in St. Justin CApol.i c. 57; Dial, c G) are more than dubious. The vulgar phrase (Uccl. xii. 13) is found in the Pastor of Hermas, mand. vii. init. ; yet it is by no means probable that we have here merely an impression of the pseudo-Soloraonian work. t Pitra, Spicil. I^ole&m., i. p. 16, 17, et seq. J lit earn ad contempt um istius seculi provocarem et omne qnod in mnndo rernet putaret esse pro nihilo. Proef. in Eccl. ad Paularih .et Eust. 0pp., t. ii. p. 713, 714, Martinay. STUDY ON ECCLESIASTES. 41 in wliicli a pietist and a Sadducee set forth in turn -contrary ideas, liad a momentary success. M. Hitzig* and M. Ewald exposed to view some historical explanations, but they misunderstood the nature of the free thought which pervaded the book, and falsified it altogether by pretending to find in it a pretentious transcendentalism. In their view Cohelet was a kind of theologian after the manner of Zurich or Gcetingue, proceeding by pedantic circumvolutions. Nevertheless, both M. Ew;ild and M. Hitzig made actual progress in the exegesis of the book, in showing that, in order to explain it, we must come down to the Macedonian epoch. M. Zirkel, also acknowledged that the book was even more modern than the boldest of the first protestant critics had supposed. The Cohelet is a work so profoundly Jewish, that it was reserved to the Jewish critics to seize definite- ly its character and its true meaning. Moses -Mendelssohn and Samuel David Luzzatto compre- hended it much better than any of the protestant theologians had done. Indeed, it was reserved to M. Grsetz to take, in the exegesis of tho book in C|uestion, the most considerable step.^ A multitude •of exegites had signalised the modern character of the language of the Cohelet, M. Grsetz has well remarked that this was not enough to say, and that in order to find out the true analogues of this style, it was necessary to come down almost to the Mischna, No doubt M. Grsetz goes much too far in pretending* to state precisely a multitude of traits in the opinions •of the author, the exact meaning of which has .always escaped us. To regard the book as a political pamphlet against the government of Herod, who had become old and unpopular, it is necessary to distort a multitude of details, and to see in the * Kohclet, oder der salomonische Prediger. Leipzig and Heidel- berg, 1871. 42 STUDY OX ECCLESIASTES. book something different from Avlint is to be fonnd in it. And what is even more sliockiiig- in the work of M. Graetz, is his explanation of the two last chapters. If this explanation was admitted, the Cohelef wonld be a wicked book, a book of evil counsels. I^ow this is precisely what it is not. It is a book of elegant scepticism ; we may regard it as audacious, even free, but it is never immoral or obscene. The author is an honest man, not a pro- fessor of libertinism, and this is what it would be if the end of the book contained the strange innuendos. suggested by M. Grsetz. YI. SOME interesting discussions have been raised as touching the integrity of the book. Up to verse 8 of chapter xii., there is no room for any grave suspicion. No doubt there are many passages that are not present in the order we would wish, and M, Gia3z, in several places, has been able to suggest transpositions which are calculated to remove certain difficulties. But none of these changes are materials Apart from the accidents to which all ancient books that have come down to us have been subjected, we are free to admit tliat the Cohelet, if it were to termi- nate at verse 8, cbapter xii, would remain almost intact. The speeches put into the mouth of Cohelet finish at verse 8, chapter xii. The book itself designedly^ closes as it commenced, with the exclamation " Vanity of vanities." Verses 9 and 10, notwith- standing Avhat M. Grsetz says of them, a,ppear to us to be by the original author. This epilogue rounds of the fiction which forms the ground-work of the STUDY OX ECCLESIASTES. 4^ book. Moreover, what could be tLe iTiotive for"^ making posteriorally, such an addition? Every inter- polation made in sacred books is done with a dof^matic intention, and according to a sectarian tendency. But verses 9 and 10 are the most insig^ nificant it is possible to conceive. We can nowhere see what could have been the aim of the interpolator. It is not the same Avith verses 11 and 12. These verses have no direct relation to the work at all. They seem to serve as a conclusion to a collection of books,^ and they ask the reader to regard this collection as definitive, and not to admit to be added to it any move books which might be multiplied indefinitely. M. ISTahman Krochmal has clearly perceived the truth in regard to this point. t ^ot only are these two verses not by the author of the- Cohelet, but they have also never formed a part of the book. They are a sort of short quatrain inscribed on the fly-leaf to protect the \olume from thehagiograjDhists, while the Cohelet itself occupies- the last pages of the collection. This hypothesis is so plausible, that we cannot withold from it our assent. ^ Yerses 13 and 14, although their tone is slightly different, and in prose rather than in verse, would nppear to have formed a portion of the same finale,. We can, if we like, consider them as one of those resumes, in very few words, of the whole Bible, which exercised the subtility of the Jewish doctors. :j: One might also be constrained to see in those two- verses an addition made to the book Cohelet, in order to^ veil, by a pious reflection, the heterodozy con- tained in the book. But in this case it would be necessary to suppose that such an addition must * Meliemma, in the plural, verse 12. t Intix. of the Hebrew journal, ilfore nehouU Tiaz zeman. See- Grastz, Kohclet, p. 47, et seq. t Math., vii. 12 ; xxii. 36-40. •44 STUDY ON ECCLESIASTES. liave been iiintle after verses 11 and 12 had been^ imintentionnlly, of course, incorporated into tbe 4Johelet, There is here a complicated and, consider- ing the recent date of the book, even almost inad- missible lijpothesis. The text of the Cohelet, together with that of the JPsahns, is the j)ortion of tlie Bible, which contains the greatest number of copyists errors. All these .-errors, ns I have before said, increase the confusion :alre;idj niade by the alphabet carre, A comparison of the Massoretic Text with the ancient versions, proves that the supposition of such faults is not the result of unreasoning criticism. This comparison lias already been the means of correcting many of ±lie attractions that have been made in the Hebrew text. Paliography furnishes a very efficacious x^ritical instrument in another way. The progress •of Semetic epigraphy extricated, indeed, Biblical exeglses from the thicket in which it had become .entangled. The old school, which was obliged to explain the text, even though notoriously corrupt, just as it was, appears puerile. Still, the school, which would arbitrarily substitute convenient read- ings for all those which are found embarrassing, .ought no less to be condemned. In default of .fi comparison of manuscripts, which, as touching -what concerns the Bible, would, in any case, be tinfruitful and unavailing, it only remains to the ..■critic to endeavour to find the primitif texts of .these ancient books, some of which have been grossly vitiated by the copyists : we mean, the written symbols of the alphabet from which they were com- posed, and to which their earliest tentatives were .subjected. In this way, we can attain to plausible, ..and, in some instances, certain conjectures. This method, which is the basis of my teaching at the .College de France, has furnished me with many cor- rections, which I have given in an appendice, at the STI7DY ON ECCLESIASTES. 45^ end of this volume, in order that the student mny the better comprehend the partial discordances that may exist between m j translation and the received. text. For the rest, the text has been preserved word for word, just as it was written bv the author, although there still remain great difficulties to be solved. The ideas of the author are of a simple enough kind, and do not demand, in order to be understood, any metaphysical effort. Yet the language is singularly embarassing. It proceeds by short successive sketches. Instead of the grand synthetic style of Plato and Aristotle, it is like a pile of diy stones without cement. The author possesses a cultivated mind, who can only find, ready to his hand, a rebel Tongue, with which to compass the end he has pro- posed to himself. The Hebrew of the eighth, seventh and sixth centuries before Jesus Christ, had produced some masterpieces which humanity came to regard as of divine inspiration : but that classic effort was very limited in its extent. It contained nothing that could b>e regarded as science or philosophy. Admir- able for the expression of passions, Hebrew lacks that flexibility which is requisite to effective reason- ing. The Arabic of the eleventh and twelfth centuries of our era, found itself similarly embarassed. It was then made use of to give expression to ideas for which it had not been created ; hence its extreme awkwardness. The Arabian philosophers, except at the moments when their language becomes veiled by mysticism, are very bad writers. Tlie Semetic languages do not lend themselves at all to the expression of exact ideas. They affect brisk action, mere glitter : they decompose trains of thought and scatter their parts to the lour winds. Let us suppose Descartes to have been provided with such an instru- ment : where would have been the Discourse on Tnethod ? What would have become of the senti- 46 STUDY OX ECCLESIASTE3. iiients contained in tlie followinof sentences of SjDinoza? Experience has tauglit me to recognize that all the events in our . common life are vain and futile things, that all tlie objects of our beliefs contain neither anything of good nor bad in themselves, and . assume only to a limited extent the character of the soul with which thev have been brought in contact. I have hence formed the reso- lution of inquiring whether there exists anything leally good, and which is capable of being communicated to mankind, a good which alone can fill the entire soul, after the latter has rejected all other forms of goodness, a good in a word, which gives to the f oul, when the soul discovers and obtains possession of it, eternal and sup eme liappiness. And that beautiful cry of the virtuous soul of Kant ? Duty ! grand and sublime, and thou who possessest nothing of • the agreeable nor of the flatterer, and who commandest submission, Avithout, however, employing, in order to crusli the will, menaces calculated naturally to excite aversion and terror, but limitest thee to the proposing of a law which is likewise introduced into the soul and compellest of it respect (if not always obedience), and in presence -of which all our inclinations are silent, though they sullenly labour . against her — what kind of origin is worthy of thee ? Where find the root of the noble stem which proudly repellest all alliance with the inclinations, that root in which it is necessary to place the indispensible condition as to the value which men may place on Lhem selves? At bottom, Cohelet understood all that, and V -sYished to express it. He has the philosophical -spirit, but he has not a philosophical language at his disposah His desperate efforts at reasojiing resemble the tortures of a great musician forced to execute a complicated spmphonj Avitli a badly trained orchestra. We are indebted to M. Joseph Derenbourg for a very just observation, which throws the grea.test light on our author's manner of writing, iind the rules which governed him in the conduct of his ideas. One of the characteristic traits of this mornl poetry of India and Persia, to which the Cohelet presents so many analogies, is the habitude of STUDY OX ECCLESIASTES. 47 inserting verses in tlie tissue of the prose, wlietlier these verses consist of citations of tiiiknown poems or have been composed by the author himself. M. Ewald had ah'eady remarked several proverbs, liavino* little or no connection with the text, which the author scatters over his declamation, in order to interrupt its too mouotouoas course. M. Derenbouri;'^ shows that in this Cohelet improved the genre, the finished model of which is presented by Saadi, "which has its origin in the Persian Sassanide and ulteriorly flourished in India. The general tenor of the style of Ecclesiastes is pure. Yet, at times, parallelism makes itself felt, and at such times the train of ideas is almost always violently broken up. In admitting that these rules, having small con- nection with what precedes or follows, are citations, -or rather metrical intercalations, the difficulties which the work now under consideration contains, are considerably lessened. t In this particular the translator is an excellent judge. All the trans- lations of Ecclesiastes have, in many places, an awkward and incoherent a.ppea>rance. In the hypo- thesis, where it is the author himself, who, from time to time, breaks the tissue of his web in order to embroider it with different sorts of applications, we ■obtain a much more satisfactory text. There results from it even a species of charm : these little paren- theses impart to the prose a greatly prolonged seriousness ; they disabuse the reader of the false idea that rigorous reasoning is concealed under these faint flourishes. Sometimes, in fact, the logical nexus is altogether wanting ; they resemble the blows of a horse's plaited mane, the faint refrains of a violin, especially designed to divide ='•' Review of Jewish Studies, 1st year. Nos. 2 — 184— 1885. t Only, the passage vi, 11, vii. 9 (forming sec. XV. of our trans- lation, resists all benevolent efforts which havp. beea made in order not to be made, to avow that the author, when writing, was asleep. 48 STUDY OX ECCLESIASTES. paragraphs, or simply roses strewn in passing, like those tiny flowers which adorned the blank spaces of a Persian manuscript of the XIYth century. But how, in a translation, is this transition from prose to citations in verse to be made recognizable ? Ordinarily, in parabolic poetry, it is sufficient, in^ order to bring out the rhythm, to preserve the parallel strokes of the distiches. In the Book of Job, for example, a good French translation i& almost as rhythmical as the original. It is not the same in Cohelet. The parallelism here is \ery faint. The rhythm of the verses cited consists principally of something frivolous, airy and pretentiously elegant. . In order to retain this characteristic 1 have assayed the ancient metres of our poetry, with a minimum of rhyme or rather of assonance. I beg the ex- quisite poets of the present day not to believe that I wished to march rough-shod over their remains, in no instance have 1 dreamt of struggling with their pointed, harmouious declamations. It was with me a question of imitating, in French, sentences con- ceived in a disjointed manner, in a spirit of raillery and of boastfulness, resembling at once the Pibroch,, the Marculfe or Chatonnet, to produce an impression analogous to that of our quatrains of moralities or of our old proverbs in bout-rhymes. After all rhyming is the jugglery which most resembles the procedure in Cohelet; words darted into the air^ which, when falling, are caught up again with frantic agility. It has been impossible for me otherwise to comprehend the tight-rope turns and twistings of certain transcendental allusions, above all, the portion bearing on old age, a sort of funereal joujou, which one might say was chiselled out by Banville or Theophile Gautier, and which I find superior even to the quatrains of Khayyam, For the rest of the work, I have thought that, by means of short couplets, approaching the platitude, on the- STUDY ON ECCLESIASTES. 49 one hand, and the <^audiiole, on the other, |>ro« ceeding from Ba^ to Pibroch, I have thought, I saj, to be in tune with uij original, by turns, eloquent and ironical, serious and frivolous. It is in such circumstances that one feels how a literal trans- lation may prove to be the worst of all translations- Here is a morceaux of high-flown literature, denuded of all dogmatic intention, which you translate pedantically into the dull prose of the theologian, for the supreme satisfaction of the scholastics ! What a bitter contradiction ! As well try to turn Beranger into homihes, or put the sermons of Bossuet into madrigals. VII. TN fine, the book Cohelet, such as it has issued" -*- from the vigorous claws of the modern critic, is one of the most charming works that have been bequeathed to us by antiquity. The plan has the defects of all Jewish fictions. It is not constructed on a certain enough basis. The chief portion of the book, that fashion of unfolding the confession of an old king, disgusted with life, in order to lead one throuo;h all sorts of bye-paths to the conclusion: ^'AU is vanity," is indicated with rare felicity; but it is not persistently enough adhered to. The author loses himself in reflections, the connection of which with the principal theme cannot be discerned. As in the Book of Job, a good deal of complaisance is required in reducing to unity such unbridled discussions. The lack of unity is likewise the defect which is to be found in the highest degree in the Song of Songs. The Greeks alone knew how to E '50 STUDY ON ECCLESIASTES. create logical works, perfectly consecutive and con- sistent with themselves. The simplex duyitaxat et unum is the discovery of the Greek genius. Every Hellenic composition is like a temple, in which all the parts are so perfectly adjusted the one to the other, that one can re-constitute the whole from a single one of its parts. Certainly, the case is very different with the Cohelet, Several entire chapters could be lopped off without inflicting any damage on ■the whole work. The philosophy of the author is, in like manner, -hot very rigorously put together. The consequence of his premisses ought to be impiety. Theodore of •Cyrene, who has so much in common with him, draws, in fact, the conclusion of atheism. But the inconsequence of Cohelet has something quite touching. In the two or three places where one would think he was about to entrench himself in pure mateiialism, he suddenly disentangles himself by assuming an elevated tone. This manner of philosophising is the true one. One can never silence the objections of materialism. There is no instance of a thought, of a sentiment, having been produced without a brain or with a brain in a state of decomposition. On the other hand, man will never reach the point of persuading himself that his destiny is similar to that of the beasts. Even if that could be demonstrated, one would not believe it. And it is this which ought to incite us to think -freely. Necessary beliefs are above all forms of . attack. Humanity only listens to us in jDi'oportion ;as our systems harmonise with its duties and its instincts. Let us express what we think. The woman shall none the less continue to be its joyous cantilene, the infant will not require any the less • care, nor the young men become less addicted to frolic; the virtuous man shall remain virtuous; the •Carmelite shall continue to mortify the flesh, the STUDY ON ECCLESIASTES. 51 imother to fulfil her duties, the bird to sing, the bee •to gather honey. In his greatest backslidings Cohelet does not forget the judgment of God. Let lis do like him. Amidst this absolute fluidity of things, let us hold by the eternal. Without that, we are neither free nor at liberty to discuss him. The greatest victims, on the morrow of the day on Aviiich man shall no longer believe in God, w^ill be tlie atheists. One never philoso2)liizes more freely than when one knows that philosophy cannot draw any conclusion. Let the bells ring, the clocks strike, take your ease ; the more you ring the more I ■will have the opportunity afforded me of saying that your clamour signifies nothing that is distinct. If I thought I could make you hold your peace — ah! it is then that I should become timid and discreet. That which pleases us more than anything in the Cohelet is the personality of the author. Never was author more natural or more simple. His egotism is so frankly avowed that he ceases to shock us. He was undoubtedly a loveable man. I should place a thousand times more confidence in him than in the whole hasidim, his contemporaries. The goodness of the sceptic is the most substantial thing of all ; it rests on a profound sentiment of the supreme truth — Nil expedit. It would appear that Cohelet was not married. He was the greatest critic of his asre. At the present day he would surely have found some women, enlightened and much less wicked than he thought, to console and love him. Women rarely -^y-.^j much heed to the evil things that are said of their sex. To manifest bad humour towards them is in their eyes a proof that one is thinking about them. Women, in fact, feel disdain and aversion only towards him who lives quietly by himself and engrosses himself v^^ith things outside of them. lu liearing repeated that everything in life is wearisome and dull, they are not absolutely displeased. 52 STUDY ON ECCLESIASTES. It is bj reason of this that the Cohelet becomes n? book so distinctly modern. The pessimism of onr times finds in it its truest expression. The author- appears to us, like a Schopenhauer, resigned; but- greatly superior to the latter, who, ly a bad stroke of luck, was condemned to dine all the rest of his life- at German tables d'hote. Cohelet, like us, mixed- sadiiess with joy, and joy with sadness ; he did not draw conclusions, he debated between contrn- dictories; he loved life, though he regarded it as vanity. Above nil, he never poses. He is nor plen^ed with the eifect he produces; he does not feel that he is cursing existence. He is perfectly sincere ■ in snying that he has found everything frivolous and empty. He delights in representing himself as air exquisite — a person of good manners, resembling " the ancestor of some I'ich Parisian Jew who might be wandering about Judcea at the time of Jesus and the Maccabees. In fact, that which Cohelet is very essentially and 2^0 r excellence^ is the modern Jew. Fi'om him to- Henrv Heine there is but a short step between them. - When we compare him with Elias, Jeremiah, Jesus, John of Gischala, we can hardly comprehend that the same race has produced minds so diverse. When we compare him with the modern Israelite, who has- been known to our great commercial cities for the past fifty years, we find a singular resemblance. After waiting for two thousand years until Roman pride has been used up, until the barbarians have passed away, one can see how that son of thft prophets, that brother of the zealots, that cousin of Christ, shows himself to be an accomplished man of the world ; how indifferent he is in regard to a Paradise in which the world believes in on his word alone; how easily he adapts himself to the require- ments of modern civilisation ; how exempt he is from dynastic and fer.dal prejudices; how he kno7/3- STUDY OX ECCLESIASTES. 53 "to enjoy a vrorld lie has not made, to gatlier the fruits ot* a field he has not worked, to supphuit tlie .simpleton who persecutes him, to render himself iiecessmy to the fool who despises him. It is for him, believe it or not, that Clovis and his Franks rstruck dull thuds with the sword, th;it the race of •Oapet unfurled its political banner a thousand yenrs iHg , tliat Philip-Aiipuste conquered at Bouvines :and Conde at Rocroi. Viinity of vanities! Yes ! ^ the best condition in which to be pla-ed, to conquer Ihe joys of life, is to proclaim them vain ! We all inow this worldly-wise man, who is not led astray by any supernatural chimeras, who would renounce the breams of another world for the realities of an hour -of this one; much opposed to abuses'^, and yet as llittle democratic as possible; embued with a power ;at once supple and proud; aiistocnitic by reason of Ihis fine skin, his nervous susceptibility and his manly attitude which has taught him how to escape -from fatiguing labour t, a bourgeois by reasoii of the -small esteem in which he holds the brave warrior J ;as well as by reason of a sentiment of socia.1 in- feriority from which his distinction cannot save him. 'This is the man who has overthrown the world by liis faith in the kingdom of God, who now believes in -nothing but wealth. And this is because wealth, in -fact, is his true recompense. He knows how to Jabour, how to enjoy. No foolish chivalry can induce ;him to exchange his luxurious abode for perilously :acquired glory; no stoical asceticism can make him give up the reality for the shadow. The game of life, in his idea, is plnyed entirely here below. He lias attained to perfect wisdom; to enjoy in peace, surrounded by the choicest works of art and by the :reminders of pleasure which he has acquired by the * Compare Uccl , chap. v. 7. et seq. i- Compare AccL, chap. x. 15. J See Eccl, chap. viii. 8. ,54 STUDY ON ECCLESIASTES. fruit of his labour. A surprising coufirmatioD of" the philosophy of vanity ! Go then and make- trouble in the world; make God die on the cross, endure every kind of suffering, set fire to our^ country three or four times, insult every tyrant^, overthrow every idol, and finish by contracting a disease of the spine, in a richly furnished hotel in the Champs-Elysees, regretting that life is so shorts und pleasure so fugitive. Vanity of vanities ! : THE WORDS OF COHELET,^ The Son of David, King of Jerusalem. I. ITlie absolute vanity of all tilings. The world is a circle in which eveiything repeats itself without either ^progress or results.^ YAXITY of vanities, said Colielet ; vanity of I, S'. vanities ; all is vanity ! What profit does a man draw from all the Labour '.i- \vhicli he performs under the sun? One generation -t goes away, another generation succeeds it; the earth, however, remains in its place. The sun rises ; 5 the sun sets ; then it hastily regains the point whence it must arise anew: now blowing towards the south, & then passing to the north, the wind whirls, whirls without ceasing, and returns perpetually on the circles it has already traced t. AH rivers rush into 7 the sea and the sea is not full, and the rivers return to the place whence they have their source to flow again J. It is difficult to explain everything; man can & give an account of nothing; the eye is not cloyed with the power of seeing, the ear is not satiated with the force of hearing. * See Intro., p, 10, et seq. t All these examples of natural forces acting: in a circular fashion prove that nothing is new, and that all is vain, since everything- repeats itself to no purpose. Compare Seneca: N'dlius rei finis est, ged in orhem nexa sunt omnia. Omnia transeunt ut revertantur ; nil Twvi video, nil novi facto. (Epist. 34). X The author supposes that the sources of the rivers conimunicate with the sea by subterranean channels and are, according to an eastern image, " eyes of the sea." 56 THE WOliDS OF COHELET. 3 Tliat whicli lias been is what will be ; that wbica lias happened will happen again. There is nothing 10 new nnder the sun. When a man says to jou: " Look, this is new," do not believe it ; for the thing in question has already existed in the centuries 11 which have preceded us. Men of former times are no longer remembered by us; men who are to come will leave nothing by which they can be remembered by those to come after them. n. [First experience of the Author. The vanity of Knowledge.^ 12 I, Cohelet, was king over Jerusalem. 13 The first thing to which I applied my mind was to seek and search out carefully all that takes place under the sun. I soon discovered that it was the ' worst occupation God had given to the sons of a4 Adam to pursue. Having seen, in point of fact, that in all things which take place under the sun, there is nothing but vanity and a striving after wind. 15 One cannot put straight what God has made curved, nor make anything out of that which is not. IG I said to myself : " See here ! I am great ; I have accumulated more knowledge than any who have lived before me in Jerusalem; my intelligence has 17 penetrated to the foundation of all things ; I have applied my mind to know wisdom and to discern folly." I soon discovered that this also was a striving after wind ; for j3 The man who tries wisdom to hoard Can nothing but sadness afford, And too much knowledge to gain Is only to cumulate pain. THE WORDS OP COHELET. 57 III. [^Second experience. Vanity of Riches and Pleasure.'] Then I said to myself, "Come, let us tiy joy; let "US taste pleasure." I soon discovered that that also ' is vanity ; for, ere long To laughter I said, " Folly ; " 2 To pleasure, " What bring'st thou me 7 " I resolved, hence in my heart, to seek comfort for 3 iny body in wine, and, without renouncing for that 3)urpose my wise projects, and, adhering for the moment to folly, till I could discover what was best :for the sons of Adam, among the many diverse occupations to which they applied themselves under the sun all the days of their Hfe. I did great things ; 4 I built for myself palaces ; I planted vines ; I laid ^ •out gardens and parks; and I planted there fruit ^ trees of all kinds ; I had reservoirs of water con- structed that I mi^rht water mv forests of full-cfrown trees. I bought slaves of both sexes ; in fact, the "^ ]iumber of the servants of my household, my oxen, -iind my sheep exceeded that which anyone before me had before possessed in Jerusalem. At the same ^ time, J helped up treasures of silver and gold, the savings of kings and provinces; I procured for myself troops of singers and songstresses, and all the delights of the sous of Adam of every kind that •exi-ted. So I became greater, and amassed more ^ wealth than all who had been before me in Jeru- salem ; and, for all that, my wisdom did not depart from me. I did not refuse my eyes anything for 10 which they longed; I did not forbid my heart a :single joy. " After all," said I, " I have only enjoyed that which I gained by my labour ; these pleasures .are the reward of the pains I have taken." Then I set myself to consider the works of my 1^ iinnds, and the labours to which I had yielded 58 THB W03JDS OF COHELET. mjseTf. T found again tbat all was vaniij and m striving after wind, that there is no real profit under the sun. lY. l^Third experience. TJie wise man and the fool have the same end. The uselessness of great achieve- ments. To enjoy peacefully what one has earned, '\ 11,12 I undertook to stud j what difference there couldi l)e between wisdom on the one hand and folly and stupidity on the other. "Foi," I said to myself, ^'what man coming after a king, can begin anew the work which he has done ? " 13 I thought at first that the superiority of wisdom^ over folly was as the superiority of light over ' darkness. 14 The sage has two eyes in his head; the fool' 15 knows not where he may tread. Now I soon perceived that the same end is reserved for both,. Then I thought to myself, "If the destiny which awaits me is the same as that of the fool, what value is it to me that I have striven without relaxation to- increase my wisdom?" And I said in my heart,. ' 16 "yet another vanity." For there is no eternal remembrance either of the wise man or tlie fool. For in the days to come, that which has been will all be forgotten. Why is it that the wise man and the- f ool die in the same way ? . . . 17 These reflections made me look upon life witU hatred; I had aversion to everything that passed under the sun, seeing that all is vanity and striving 18 after wind. And I loathed the works to which I had applied myself under the sun, considering that I THE WOKDS OP COIIELET. 59 should have to leave the fruit of mj labours to the man who should succeed me. As for that man, who 1^ knows whether he will be a wise man or a fool? And this man will be the master of all tlijit I have gained bj the labours which I have undertaken with so much toil and wisdom under the sun ! Still again, vanity ! I then felt nothing but disgust for 2(y all the laboui-s to which I had applied myself under the sun. Here is a man whose laborious life has 21 been a master-piece of wisdom, of knowledge, and of good^ fortune; well, he leaves everything he has acquired, his lawful portion, to someone who had - done nothing for it. AVhat vanity! what abuse! 23: For, indeed, what reverts to the man for all his cares •: and troubles, which he has taken upon himself under , the sun? His day's have been full of weariness; 23 anxiety has been his continual companion ; even at night his mind has not been at rest. O vanity! Is it " 24 not better for a man to eat, drink, and enjoy at his ease the rewards of his labour ? I have a rrived even to the conclusion that this kind of happiness comes also from the hand of God. If a man eats, if a man 25 drinks, is He not to be thanked for it? He gives to -G- whomsoever He pleases — wisdom, knowledge, and pleasure ; to him whom He holds in displeasure. He • assigns the labour of amassing and storing up riches, that He may give them to him whomsoever it pleases Him to favour. Then, once again : Vanity ! a strivino- after wind ! €0 THE WORDS OP COHELET. V. \Ijvery thing is good or had according to the Tnoment^ It is impossible to reform the world from the state in which God has made it.'] ril, 1 There is a time for everything; and all things under heaven have their proper season : 2 A time for death, a time for birth, A time for groans, a time for mirth, .'3 A time to laugh, a time to weep, A time to plant, a time to reap, 4 A time to raze, a time to rear, A time to kill, a time to spare. .'5 A time to mass stones, a time to disperse, A time to bless and a time to curse, ■6 A time to seek dreams, a time to dispel, A time to admire and a time to repel. "7 A time to sew, a time to tear, A time to hate, a time to spare A time to speak, a time to cease, A time for war, a time for peace. 9 What profit is it to a man for all the labours that 10 he undertakes? I have seen every occupation that God has given to the sons of Adam for their own. 11 stupefaction. He has made everything good in its proper season ; He has spread out the world before men, but in such a way that, from one end to the other, they cannot understand his intent, 12 Therefore I conclude that there is only one tiling good for man, that is to rejoice and enjoy his good 13 fortune whilst he lives. Yes, when a man eats, drinks, enjoys the fruits of his toil, that is the gift 14 of God. I clearly see that all God has done will eternally remain as He made it. Nothing can be added, and no one knows how to curtail it. More- over, God has done this so that man shall fear Him. 15 The past has existed in an anterior past; the future has already been ; God seeks again, in order that ifc • THE WORDS OF COHELKT. 6{ may be repeated, that which seemed to have fled for ever. VI. INew observations. Injustice reigns on the earth. lianas end is as that of an animal.^ I saw another matter under the sun: the wicked iii,i6" flit in the seat of judgment and iniquity is mounted upon the throne of Justice. " God," said I to 17 myself, at first, "will judge both the just and the unjust, for He has fixed a time for everything." But I soon recognised the fact that the children of 18 Adam were not such privileged sons of God as they appeared, and that they had not, in reality, one single superiority over the animal. For the destiny 19 of the children of Adam and that of the animals is one and the same thing. The death of the one is the death of the other ; there is only one breath in every living creature; the superiority of man over the animal does not exist ; all is vanity. All go to 20 the same place. All came from dust, and to dust all will return. Who knows whether the breath of man 21 ascends on high, and the breath of the animal descends downwards into the earth? I was con- 22 rinced, therefore, in this thought, that there is really only one good thing for man, and that is for himself to enjoy the fruits of his labour, for that is his true portion : in fact, after his death, who will lead him back that he may see what things shall happen after liim? 62 THE WORDS OF COHELET. ^ [Another . observation. Oppression is everywhere tri- umphant. Life and activity conceived as an evil,"] dV, 1 And I took pains to observe, and I saw acts of oppression which took, place under the sun. The" o]3pressed were on all sides, and bathed in tears, and no one to comfort them ! People crying to be delivered from the hands of their oppressors, and no one to snccOur them ! 7 :2 Then did I congratulate the dead; and I pre- ferred the condition of those who had disappeared before me to the state of the living whose existence -- .3 was prolonged to the j)resent moment. It appeared to me that they who had never existed were happier than either the one or the other, since they had not seen the things that take place under the sun. 4 I understood that every effort, every success resulted in jealousy, in a desire to surpass its fellow* Yet another vanity, a striving after wind ! _5 The fool will cross his hands, <- And live on what he has. 5 A handful of quiet happiness is better than two handfuls of labour and vain cares. YIII. \_Life is no value to the solitary man.^ ilV, 7 Another vanity I saw under the sun; A solitaiy 8 man, who had no one to succeed"^ him, neither son nor brother, yet he Avorked just the same, without relaxation, neither was his eye satisfied Avith the * The author elects to use ambiguous words. THE WOUDS OP COHELET. 63 Ticlies around him. *'Ali! why do I work," he exclaimed, " and deprive my soul of pleasure ? " Yet another vanity, a sad reckoning! Two are ^ "better than one; for when two are together their labour has its reward. If one of the two fall, the ^^ other assists him to rise; but unhappy is the man that is alone ! If he fall there is no one at hand to help him. Again, if two sleep together they have H mutual warmth; but the man that is alone, how rsliall he warm himself? When the robber attacks ^2 the traveller who has a companion, both combine for mutual protection. The threefold cord is not quickly broken. IX. '\_The vanity of siqi'posing that human affairs will make better progress under another goverimieyit.'] A poor yet wise youth is better than an old and IV, 13 foolish king, who cannot bring himself to be instructed. One flits in a moment from prison to throne, 14 And one is born sad at what he shall own. I saw that everybody was anxious to follow the ^^ young man who was to succeed the old king. The 1^ evils that we have suffered in the past are infinite, but for the future, they that come will have no cause for rejoicing. For all is vanity and a striving after wind ! 64 THE WORDS OF COHELET. X, \yanity of Religion that does not demand a fear of God,'] IV, 17 G'jard your footsteps when you enter the house of God^. Tor obedience to the law is better than the- sacrifice of fools, who know how to perform nought but evil t. "V, 1 Restrain the utterances of thy lips ; and let not your heart be hasty to make promises before God. For God is in heaven and you are on earth. So let your words be few in number. 2 Dreams J, indeed, at every turn, occur, The fool's voice is lost in floods of words. 3 "When you make a vow before God do not be slow to accomplish it. For God loves not the foolish.- 4 Perform whatsoever you promise. It is better not to make vows, than to make them and fail to fulfil 5 them. Do not allow your own mouth to make you sin ; and do not j)ut yourself in such a position that you must say to the messenger of the priests § : "It was a mistake ||,'' lost God be angry and destroy 6 your handiwork. But all these thoughts come to- nothing; only a hei)]_3 of vain words 1; but fear God above all thinq-s ! * One ought to go there for reflection, and not with wrong motives, or out of curiosity. f The false devotee, with h^'s narrow conscience, cannot distin- guish true devotion from false, and displeases God with the very acts which he thinks are the most agreeable to Him, + Most vows were made after dreams which were considered fratricidal. § When the vows were made solemnly in the temple, and when people were slow to fulfil them, the priests sent messengers to get the money due on fulfilment of the vow. II Conip. Levit., v. 4, 15 ; Ps. xv. 4. ^ By making the vows prolix, the people often contracted engagements without knowing it, and which they afterwards repented. THE WORDS OF COHELET. G-S XI. [Vanity of monetary ivealth.] Should jou perceive the poor of tlie country to be v, r oppressed, and robberj to take tlie place of justice and jiulgment, do not be nstoiiished at it; for the powerful are watched bv those who have power also, and above them are tliej that are more powerful stiil^. The excellence of the enrth portrays itself ^ in all things; the king himself is brought into subjection to the fields. He who loves money is not » satis^fied with money; he who loves wealth does not always taste its frnits. Again what vanity ! When l^ wealth is augmented, those who devour it are multi- plied, and the owner draws no further advantage than to see the fact before his eyes. The repose of !*< the labourer is sweet, whether he oat little or much, whilst satiety will not give the rich man sleep. XII. [The folly of hoarding up for successors.] There is one very singular caprice that I have seen v, 12 under the sun; it is the wealth which a jealous possessor carefully guards for his successor. For 1;^ this wealth may perish by some accident, and the son he has brought into the world has his hands empty. As for him, brought forth bare from his ife mother's womb, he goes away just as he came, theie is not a particle of fruit to his labour that he can carry away in his hand. Yes, it is indeed a singular 15 caprice. As he came, so shall he go away. * Feud.lisra appearrd to the author the chief cause of tlie bud adminit ration which characterised his time. F •^^6 THE WORDS OF COHELET. And wliat profit returns to liini, Laving laboured IG after wind? All liis days are spont in dnrkness and sadness ; lie lias taken untold pains ; liis life lias beeii 17 nouglit but impatience. My advice is, then, that the best clioice for a man is to eat and drink, and to enjoy tlie fruits of liis labour wliicli lie lias per- formed under the sun, during the days that God has 18 granted liim. That is his true portion. Every time that God grants a man riches and treasures, and permits him to taste them, to take his share of them, to rejoice in the fruit of his labour, it is necessary to 19 look uj)on that as a gift of God. Man, in fact, ceases to think of the brevity of his days so long as God sustains his heart Avith pleasure. XIII. [^Vanity of Riches ivhich one does not enjoy.'] VI, 1 Still another evil that I saw under the sun, and .2 one that weighs heavily u])on men. It is the case of a man to whom God has given riches, treasures, and honours, so that all his desires are satisfied, and God does not permit him to enjoy his possessions, so that a stranger devours the whole in his stead. Tiiis is a :3 vanity and an abuse ! Even supposing that a man had a hundred sons, and lived as many years as he wished, if he taste no pleasure, and after his death he have no burial, I say that the conditioa of an ■4 abortion is better than his. The abortion came in the void, it went away in the darkness, and its name is for ever hidden from the light; it has not seen the .5 sun. But its lot is better than that of this man. 'C Even if a man can live two thousand years, if with that he taste no pleasures, what does it all come to '? Do not all thing^s come to the same end? THE WORDS OF COHELET. 67 XIV. [^Vanity of virtuous efforts."] A man works only for his mouth, and yet cannot VI, 7 satisfy himself. What advantage has the wise man 8 over the fool? What profits the modest man, who iiiidertakes to walk with wisdom in the sight of the living? It is better to live after his humour than 9 to enfeeble himself. Too much virtue is also a vanity and a striving after wind. All that exists was planned before it existed. Such a being as man was 10 preordained to be born ; and he cannot hold his head higher than himself. XY. IVanity of the philosophy that proclaims all is vanity.'] There is a philosophy that wanders round re- VI, ii peating ; " Vanity ! . . . what profit has a man ? . . . Who knows what is good"^ for a man 12 during the small number of days that he passes among the living, frivolous days, which are but as a cloud? . . . Who can teach man what will take place after him, under the sun? " More than scented oil f a fair renown is worth ; VII, 1 And better is the day of death than the day of birth. Rather stay in the house of weeping, S r Than the house of constant feasting ; For all to one sure end are hasting, Ever this in mind be keeping, * It seems that the author is anxious to show that his own philosophy of vanity is as empty as the rest. + The intention of the author being to put among the vanities the sentences he is about to cite ; he commences with a common- place proverb, the effect of which is to throw a sort of ridicule on thj^^e which follow. 6S THE WORDS OF COITELET.. 5 Care and sorrow nre better than lanphtcr;. And a troubled mien is good for the soul. i The wise sit pensive in the house of sotow. And the foolish dream in the a'-'ode of fo'ly. 3 The rebuke of the wise is better than the fool's sore:; And the laughter of fools is as the burning faggot, That crackles beneath the tripod. Well, tliis also is vaiiit}- ; 7 Oppression makes a wise man ma^^. And ruins the most peaceful soul. 8 The er.d is better than the beginning; And patience succeeds better than pis-ii'n. Be not llien liastj to fly into a passion, for Ansrer chooses its domicile in the bosom of fools.. XYI. \_TJie ixist was not better than the present is non\~\ VII,10 -ge careful not to say: "How is it tliat the days that are cone were better than those that are now? '* 11 For such a question is but foolish. Wisdom is as valuable as riches whilst one lives nncler the snn. 1-The shelter which wisdom affords is as sure as tha^> which money can procure; moreover, wisdom has an advantage, for it procures long- jite to him that 13 possesses it. Consider the work of God : Who can put straight what He has made bent ? U In the day of prosperity be jc'yful, and in the day of misfortune remember that God made the g'ood :;s -ivell as the evil. Enjoy the present; man, in fact,, once dead, will discover nothing- afterwards. . THE WORDS OF COHELET, 69 XVII. \_Wisclo7n consists in avoiding all extremes,'] I luive seen evervtliing happen in the cla3^s of myVII.iS iiiiiiless existence. On the one hand, the just perish aiotwithstanding their uprightness, and on the other, the wicked enjoy length of days in spite of theii* wickedness. So be not too righteous, nor affect too 16 ;inuch wisdom, lest you become a simpleton. Neither 17 ;be too wicked, nor walk after folly, lest you die 'before your time. Perfection is this; in all things ^^ iittaching yourself to a principle, yet do not lose Uiold of ti.e opposite principle. By the fear of God inan can rise up out of all his troubles. Knowledge ^^ is a greater power in the hands of a wise man than ten rulers in a city. There are no upright men 20 rupon the earth, not a single one who does that ■which is right and never sins. Pass over without 21 :notice many things that people say. Por example, when your slave pours forth curses upon you, p:etend not to hear them; call to your mind how 22 ^of ten you have chanced to heap curses upon others. I have examined all this with care and wisdom, 23 nsaying to myself without ceasing : " Come, still more wisdom ! Yet that wisdom has always remained far :from me. Who can seize the object distance hides? Who can touch the floor of the bottomless pit? 24 ^ XYIII. \Seductiveness and perversity of women,'] Then, in this universal investigation, in this re- 2$ -search to discover what is the condition of the 70 THE WOEDS OF COHELET. wisest and most learned, in this examinaiion wliiclv took place before mj eyes, nil the evils, all the' madness, all the absurdities, all the follies, I found 26 something more bitter than death: It is a woman whose heart is a trap and a snare, whose hands are chains. He who is pleasing to God escapes her; but he who is in disfavour with (rod is permitted to be 27 taken by her. "Behold, this is the result of my 28 experience," said Cohelet. "In taking them all one by one, to arrange the long list of things that I had sought after without finding, I think I found one man among a thousand ; but a woman, among all 29 those I knew, I did not find a single one! But stop, this is what I did find : it is that God made human nature right, but men have invented trickeries- without end." xrx. \_Dangers of Life at Court.~\ VIII,1 Oh ! who is as the wise man ? Happy in knowing all things! A man's wisdom makes his face to shine, Whilst the insolent is but as a fool. 2 Have your eyes fixed upon the lip^ of the king, ta^ obey him, as if you had taken an oath before God. 8 Do not rise precipitat' ly in his presence ; do not l^ersist in disagreeable proposals towards him ; for he does as he likes. 4 The word of a king is law ; "W'ho shall i^ay: "What doest thou?" 5 He who executes honestly the commands he lias received will never know disgrace. A wise intellect can discern the favourable moment and the oppor- 6 tunity when to act; for, in every case there is a favourable moment and a p:"op?r method of actingr- THE WORDS OF COIIELET. 71 That wliicli renders a man's condition so unsatis- 7 factory is tlmt lie is ignorant of what is going to happen, and nothing points out to him the circum- stances that are proceeding around him. No one & has power of the Avind to imprison the wind, no one has power over the day of death, nor assurance of escaping the day of battle; even riches at suck times cannot always save their owner. XX. [Comjplete injustice of the icorld. To he amused is the last expression of life, Man knows not one thing from another.'] I have seen all this, and I have applied myVIII, & thoughts to the events which take place under the sun,°at a time when man rules over man only to work evil upon him. Thus, I have seen the wicked 10' buried. The funeral cortege j)roceed3 in procession from the holy place ^, and we hear praises sung over these miserable wretches in the towns where they have committed all their misdeeds. Still another vanity ! It is only because prompt judgment does not H follow evil that men are enabled to practise evil. Here is a sinner who has committed a hundred 12 crimes and arrives at an advanced age, yet they teach me that good fortune is reserved for those that fear God, in order to make them fear Him ; 1» that prosperity has never been the lot of the wicked ; that their days are few; that their days are as a great cloud, and all because they fear not God. ^ * Thatis, Jerusalem, of which the principal part was the Temple. The tombs were all round the cit j. 72 THE WOKDS OF COHELET. 14 Was ever an inversion of facts comparable with tliis : that the upright are treated according to the deeds of the righteous? Still another vanity, I reflect to myself. 15 Then, Is any fond of mirth, since there is nothing good for a man under the sun, but to eat, drink and rejoic^, for that is all that remains to him of his labours to which he has applied himself during the days of his life which God has given him under the sun. at*' In searching after truth, pursuing my attempts jifter knowledge of all that takes p'.ace on the earth, I saw the works of God pnss before my eyes, and I 17 discovered that man, even if day and night he re 1 use sleep to his eyes, he yet cannot understand those things which happen under the sun. No, from -whatever effort he makes, whatever research he undertakes, there are no results, and the so-called wise man that pretends to know something really ►understands nothing at all. XXI. \There is nothing after death ; consequently we should live as comfortably as possible.'] %x:i I have therefore reflected upon all this, and the fruit of my reflections is that the lot of the just and the wise is as that of eveiybody else, and whatever they do, they are in the hands of God. Love and hatred are equally frivolous. Man knows nothing. Everything he touches is vanity. 2 There is, in fact, but one destiny for all, for the just as for the unjust, for the virtuous man as for the impious, for him who is pure as for him who is •defiled, for him who sacrific?s as for him who THE WORDS OF COIIELET. 73 -sacrifices not. The best of men are treated as the smner, the perjurer as the man wlio respects his -oath. This is the greatest evil that exists under the 3 sun, that there shoukl be but one destiny for all. That is why the soul of the sons of Adam is full of wickedness. Folly dwells in their hearts whilst they are alive. After that, they go to their deaths. And how much better is it? Nothing. The livin^ 4 at least have hope. A living dog is better than a dead lion. The living know that they will die, 5 whilst the dead know nothing. For them there is no more reward, for their memory is forgotten. Their loves, their hatreds, their rivalries have 6 perished a long time since. Henceforth there is nothing for them in all that takes place under the sun. Now, then, eat your bread in peace, drink your 7 wine with a good humour, and God will prosper all your undertakings. Let your linen always be white, 8 and let your hair never lack ointment. Live joyfully 9 with your wife whom you can love throughout all the •days of this short journey which God has given you to perform under the sun, all the days, I say, of your frivolous existence ; for that is your true lot, the price of the labour you have undertaken to perform under the sun. All business that comes to hand, do quickly; for 10 there shall be no activity, no thought, no knowledo-e, no Avisdom in the scheol towards which all are ■directing their steps. XXII. [Merit is not in its place. The poor ivise man and tJit rescued city.'] I have seen, moreover, under the sun, that, when it is a question of running, people do not seek the 74 THE WORDS OF COHELET. best nintier; wlien il is a quesiion of war tliey do> not seek the bravest men; that bread is not for the wise, nor riches for the intellectual, nor favour for 12 those with understanding-. Circumstances and- chance rule on all sides, and man knows no more the hour of his fate than the fish taken in the nets and' the birds taken in the snare. Like them the sons of Adam are caught in the traps in that fatal hour' which falls upon all unawares. 13 Here is an example of wisdom which I saw under the sun, and which appeared to me a very striking 14 one. There was once a little town possessed of verjr few inhabitants ; a powerful king marched against' it, besieged it, and surrounded it with contra- 15 vallations. Now, there was found in this town a very poor but wise man, and he acted so wisely that he delivered the town by his wisdom. Yet no one remembers that poor man now. And I made two reflections : 16 Wisdom is better than a strong fortress The wisdom of the poor is quickly despised, And to his counsels are all ears closed. XXIII. \_A little folly corrupts a great deal of wisdom.'] • 17 The voice of wisdom heard in silence Excels the clamour of a king of fools. 18 Wisdom is better than engines of war; on the other hand, a single evil often suffices to annul a X, 1 great deal of good. A dead fly corrupts a whole- vase of perfumes ; in the same way all the rewards of wisdom and glory are destroyed by a little folly. 2 To the right Hes the heart of the fage, To the left lies the heart of the fool. THE WOEDS OF COHELET. 75 It is nothing to see a fool Avalk by the wayside and to mark how his head leads him astray; by his peculiar gait he says to all the world : " I am a fool." A man must know how to sustain himself. If the anger of the king is kindled against yon da not quit your place too quickly ; for, if you leave too quickly you will lay yourself open to the charge of having committed serious crimes. XXIV. [Consequences of the inversion of the social classes.'] There is an abuse which I have seen under the sun ^• and of which the authorities are the cause ■^; it is when penurious individuals are placed in high positions, and the wealthy and noble are seated in 6- humble places. I have seen servants on horseback T and princes walkiiig on foot like servants. We shall reap the consequences. He who digs a ditch may fall into it; he who pulls down a wall may be bitten by the serpent; he who cuts the stones is struck by the splinters ; and he who chops wood always receives a wound. A blunted axe whose edge is not sharpened is yet a weapon of considerable power; so wisdom finishes by carrying it away. When the serpent bites him who charms it, what a 11' grand profit for the charmer ! The words of the wise are filled with grace, \% And the lips of the fool are the cause of his death. He begins with foolishness ; he finishes with the ^^ most pitiable madness. The fool always multiplies 1* his words. Man knows not that which has been * When the abuse which he described took place it was the fault of the authorities oE the place whose duty it was to see that the proper ranks were observed. 9' 10- THE WORDS OF COHELET. Lefore liim. Who tlieii can reveal to him wliat shall take place after hiiii"^? A sorrj fool is he Avho takes upon himself fatiguing f labour, and has no idea how to get to the city. xxy. [^Corruption of the King and Court. Fear of the police,'] X, IG Woe unto thee, countrj^ that hast a slave for a king, and whose princes sit at table till the morning. i7 Happy country, on the contrary, that hast a free man for its king, and whose princes eat, at the appointed hours, to repair their strength, and not for sensuality. %S The roof tumbles in on the head of the heedless, And the tempests play havoc with the house of the idle *. lu Miserable creatures, who despise food and wine, comforts sent that life may be honestly enjoyed, -.20. . , Monej^ covers all things. . . . Under such a government one must be suspicious. Even when you are alone swear not against the king; in the furthermost corner of thy bedchamber say not a word against the ruling man ; for the birds of heaven would seize thy words and make them travel; for the winged tribe § will carry away all that you say. * The author appears to allude to some mystic sect, which -occapied i-self chittiy with the end of man. f The Essenes avoided dwelling in the towns. j An indirect prediction of the approaching ruin of the Govem- ^uent. § Alluding to the police spies of ihe time. THE WORDS OF COHELET. 77 XXA^T. ITo imdersfand how to speculate in husiness. To 'proceed without iwevision when it is a question of the sources of /(/'t;.] Cheerfully throw your fortune upon the liigh seas ; xr, i for in time you shall recover it aug-ineuted. Divide 2 it into seven parts, or even ei^^ht; for you never know what misfortune may betide us upon earth ■^. When the heavens are charged with clouds, we ^ expect a shower of r;iin to fall; when a tree lies towards the south or towards tlie north, then the place where it falls is the place where it will remain t. He who watches the wind and rain t Mis?es the time to sow ; He who seeks the sky in vain Finds the time to mow; Moreover, you do not know the way taken hv tlie ^ breath of life to reach the hones of the embrvo in the womb of the pregnant woman; neither do yon know anything of the method God has employed to make that which He has made. Scatter seed in the ^ morning and in the evening do not let your hands remain idle J, for you do not know whether it will b& the sowing of morning or of the evening that wilt succeed, or if both are equally good. The light is sweet to look upon ; and the eve T «eeks pleasure in the sun §. If a man lives for' a. 8. number of years, and enjoys them all, let him not forget that the dark days will come, and will he more numerous than the days that are past. All is Tanity. * He recommends that ri-ks may be divided, and to vary invcst-^ inent«, so tiiat if one be bad, another may compensate. + He means that there is one natural fatality against which all foresight is useless. 1;. This should be unders<-ooi conformably with a passage from the- Koran : " W need not therefore fear to yield it. 78 THE WOEDS OP COIIELET, XXVII. [^Rejoice whilst you are young, for you will no longer find ]pleasure tuhen you become old.'\ XI, 9 Rejoice joung man, in jour youth, and enjoy yourself in the daj^s of your adolescence ; walk in the way of your fancies and according to that which is ngreeable to you; but remember that God will ask 10 for an account of it all"^. Remove sorrow from your heart and spurn weariness from your body; haste, for youth and freshness quickly pass away. XII, 1 Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before evil days come nigh and the years draw near wiien you will say, "Xothing now is pleasing tome.'* 2 Before sun and light are obscured and the moon and the stars are darkened, and the clouds retui'u again after the rain t ; ^ .3 When the guards are weak, and tremble J As they stand at the threshold door § ; . And the maidens at the lattice, They are veiled for evermore |j ; When the strong parts bend with weakness ^, At the mill the servants fail **, By reason of their less'ning host To wield the threshing flail. -4 Between the world and man himself Some door is closed e'en day by day The wind alone outside is heard, And millstones cold and silent lay. * This signifies that man pays dearly in his old age for the pleasures of youth. t Ordinarily rain is followed by a blue sky for a time, but in old age, the clouds come back at once, and the sky is always grey, ;^ Old age is here represented in the image of a house which falls to ruin little by little. § The legs, mounting guard at the door of the house. ii The eyes, compared with youijg girls looking curiously through the windows. It means that in old age they are obscured. Ii The arms, by which man shows bis strength. In old age thej become stiff and useless. ** The teeth. THE WORDS OF COIIELET. 79 The little birds wi'h morning songs Dispel the sleep so hard to gain, And charming sounds of virgin notes Succeed repose oft sought in vain. When the least ascent gives pain, And all the way is paved with fear, And locusts* only tempt in vain. Whilst broken teeth the almond fain Would crush between them without pain ; And capers f fail their strength to yield. The sign is sure ; we pace the road That leads to our eterne abode ; And weepers straggle on the way That each must pass on his last day. Before the silver cord is sundered and the golden umpulki X is broken, before the cup is separated from ihe fountain, before the pulley rolls in the cistern, befoi'e the powder, returning to the earth, becomes again what it was at first, whilst the breath will retin-n to the God who gave it. " Yanitj of vanities," said Cohelet, " all is vanity." And as Cohelet possessed beyond that many treasures of wisdom, he continued to teach the people ; he considered, he searched into, and he composed many pi overbs. Cohelet sought out many beautiful words, As teacher he wrote the maxims of truth. * Some species of locust were looked upon as a great luxury. f Certain kinds of capers were used in the East as aphrodisiacs. % Life is compared to a golden lamp suspended from the ceiling ihj a silver thread ; also to a pail suspended above a well by a iifragile cord. EPILOGUE. [Added at a time when the book Cohelet completed the hagio- graphic collection]. The words of the wise Are spurs and nails, That urge us on When attention fails. The councils of old Have left us here Authentic works Whose truth is clear, And spirit one. Xow, my son, tlioii linst enong-li ; when otlier books - are brought to thee, do not accept them. The rage for writing will never cease ; But the flesh wearies with too much reading *. * The aui-Jnor of the Epilogue wishes, perhaps, to dcFtroy tlie taste for false writings, written after the Ftyle ( f Solomon, whicih. as- related in xii., verses 9, 10, were apparently becomirg the fashion. [PHILOSOPHICAL DRAMA.] THE PEIE8T OF XEMI. EY EEXEST REXAX. TBAXSLATED FMOjI THE FIIENCU E. C. S. WHTTLIXG, M.A., OX ON. o • LONDON': MATIIIESOX- k CO. PEEFACE. In this wort, I have endeavoured to develope an. idea -which is analogous to the Messianism of tlie Hebrews, that is to saj, faith, in the final triumph of religious and mcral progress, in spite of the rej^eateJ victories of folly and of evil. I have tried to present the good cause as gaining ground in spite of the bitterness, the misfortunes, and even of the falls and faults of its apostles and niartvrs. In a word, I wish to make obvious a network of truths, which all terminates in the iron law that in politics crime is often recompensed and virtue generally punished. The result of that is a sad picture, since the plot deals chiefly with the selfishness of the great, the folly of the people, the powerlessnsss of clever men, the infamy of a lying, and the weakness of a liberal priesthood, the easy deceptions of liberalism and the incurable baseness of bad people. Nevertheless, I think it is a healthy work, for it teaches man not to be too much moved by Mhe instability of human affairs, when they see what is good and true emerge, in spite of everything, from the horrible swamp in which every folly, every coarseness and every im- punity yelp and wallow pell-melL According to my views, this little work forms the sequel to my Philosophical Dialogues, jast as Calihan and ThcWater of Youth do. Dialogue is the only thing which, as I think, suits the statement of 4 PREFACE. philosopliical views, in the present stai:e of tlicluimnii' intellect. Their truth need neiiher be directly jiflirnied nor directly denied ; they cannot be the objects of actual demonstration. All that we can do is to present them under their various aspects, and to show what is strong, weak, or necessary in them, nnd what is their equivalent. Ail the lofty problems of humanity are in the same case. Who, in our days, would dream of laying down a regular exposition of political science? The great questions of social morality end in decisions wliich are all open to discussion, and which are all of them irreducible into each other. Political economy is nothing but an eternal dialogue between two systems, neither of which will ever supplant the other, nor convince it of absolute error. This springj from the fundamental difference there is between believing and knowing, betwoen opinion and certainty. No dialogues can be Avritten. about geometry, because geometry is true in an impersonal manner. But everything which implies II strata of belief, of voluntary adhesion, of choice, of antipathy, of sympathy-, of hatred and of love, is all the better for a form of exposition in which everv opinion becomes incarnate in one person, and acts"^ as though it were a living being. These reasons induced me, one day, to choose the form of dialogue in order to express certain sequences of ideas. Then, however, I found that the dialogue was not suffi-L-ient. that action was required, and that the drama., unfettered a,nd without local colour, after the manner of Shakespea-e, allows of much liner shades of distinction. Real history, what has actually happened, is not only interesthig; by the side of real history there is also ideal history, which has not occuiTcd materially, but which has takcTi 2->lace a thousand times in an ideal seutie. Corlolanus and Julius Ctrsar are not pictures of Roman manners; PREFACE. O they are positive psychological studies, and I have endeavoured, naturally without any scenic intention, to produce something analogous. My dear master and friend, Baron d'Eckstein wrote a drama, the subject of which he never told me, which began by a conversation between the Father and the Son before the beginning of the world, in the bosom of the Trinity. In default of this dialogue, which Avould certainly be most delightful to listen to (as the world was the result of a dialogue between the Father and the Son), I have sought out some of those old fables into which antiquity has put more profound sense than there is in all our political treatises, to serve as the foundation for certain ideas which occurred to me on liuujan affairs. I have taken for my subject the account which relates to that temple of Diana on the shores of Lake Xemi, whose priest was obliged to kill his predecessor with his own hand, in order to become the lawful priest. " That," Strabo says, " obliged him con- stantly to have his sword in his hand, ready to repel all attacks that miijlit be made on him." Calio-ula, who had some wit, was the first to make fun ot' that singular situation. The rex nemorensis of his time was an old man who had finished by becoming tolerably respectable, and the ferocious street-boy to whom the accident of Caesarisni had entrusted the "destinies of the world, forced him to fight with a gladiator who was much stronger than himself, and Avho became his successor. I have imagined to myself a priest of j^emi in the remotest ages, who was an enlightened man and wished to improve an old, absurd religion, and I have shown the consequences which the attempt to introduce a little reason into human affairs generally produces. Those consequences are twofold. On the one hand, the mob, which is never really re- assured, except hy successful crime, demands a villain b PREFACE. for its priest ; on the other hand, the liberal priest soon sees that, in spite of his good intentions, he has^ done more harm than good, and that he has harmed liis country, which rests definitely on generally admitted prejndices. Here, I am pleading some- ■what against myself, but I am not a priest; I am a thinker, and as snch I onght to see everything. A thoroughly completed work requires no refutation. The other side of every thought ought to be indi- cated in it, so that the reader may seize the two opposite sides of which the truth is composed, at one glance. There can be no doubt that this twofold manner of thinking occasionally disturbs the habits of the half cultivated reader. I have more than once found that the dialogue form, and the philosophical drama, has very real disadvantages side by side with crreat disadvantaws. As the essence of the dialo^^ue is to bring out different opinions, and the essence of the drama is to oppose different types to each other^ one is exj^osed to strange misconceptions on the part of critics who make their extracts somewhat hurriedly, and the most contradictory sayings are- attributed to one, at the same time. One is re- sponsible to interlocutors, who start from opposite- principles. It would ill become me to complaizi of a critical method of which Pla^;0 was the victim. Has not that great thinker been represented as Utopian in his Republic, as immoral in his Phcedrus,. and as a hypocrite, almost as a Jesuit, in his. Euthyijliron! By a similar process, a newspaper which, I do not know by what means, obtained a sight of a 2)i'Oof of The Friest of Nemi, accused me,, about a month ago, of having written this dialogue *• in order to run down courage." That is really rather too much. I, who, on the contrary, look upon courage as superior to molality, in one sense ! . . ^ I, who see in courage the certain mark of that- PREFACE. 7 sentiment wliicli attaches iis to the ideal in a dis- interested manner, since evidently the highest degree of courage, that which is crowned by death, finds no recompense here below ! The truth is, that in one part of my story I wished to show what becomes of religion when the priest abandons it, and what becomes of the State when one wishes to uphold it on the poor grounds of personal interest. I have brought Gardo on to the stage, "the vile rogue," finding a disciple worthy of liim in Leporinus, and teaching him the last consequences of selfishness, namely, cowardice. Ganeo's doctrine has been represented as being mine, and I am said to have j^reached exactly what L wished to hold up to contempt! That is just the same as if one were to maintain that the Spartans showed their slaves drunk to their children, not in order that they might feel a horror for drunkenness,- but in order to persuade them to imitate them, I do not fear that the reader who peruses me connectedly will form such erroneous conclusions.. If I have represented the nightmare of a nation without any ideal, in a manner so as to make people shiver, in the style of Edgar Poe ; if I have made the absolute impossibility of persuading a man to devote' himself from inferior motives of selfishness and. vanity, I do not regret the vivid colours which I Lave used. 'No ; self-interest inspires nothing but cowardice, and vanity produces nothing of solid value. Self-interest and vanity have neither coun- selled progress, nor suppressed one single abuse. Nobody ever sacrifices himself, except through an act of faith, and a courageous deed is the highest act of faith. The certainty of reward would destroy the merit, and so we only value lofty morality when it has passed through doubt, and we only decide for what is irood after havinor made ourselves the advocates of evil a2:ainst it. We consent to submit 8 PREFACE. ourselves to the imperious necessity of duty, but on the condition that it is well understood that we see the weakness of the arguments which support it. That is the secret of the empire which woman, with the simplicity of her faith, with her ignorance and her unaffected assertions, exercises over us. She sees to the bottom better than we do. No mother has need of a.ny system of moral philosophy in order to love her child, and no girl of a good race is chaste in virtue of a theory. In the same way, no brave man rushes on to death, moved by his reason. We do good without being sure that we are not dupes when we do it, and if we were absolutely certain that we were beijig duped, we should do it all the same. . . . The thousands of beings whom the universe immolates for its own aims march bravely to the altar, and the philosopher who most clearly sees the vanity of all things is capable of being a perfectly honourable man, and even a hero in his time. Thus it is, that after so many disillusions, the appetite for what is good, and the thirst for a more enlio'htened consciousness, is never extinsruished in human nature. Antistius will revive eternally in order to fail eterually, and in the end it will be found that the totality of his repulses will be worth a victory. Let this gentle dreamer end sadly, renounce himself, ask pardon of God for the good that he has done. Some day, at a given point of time and sj)ace, what he has wished for will be realized. Amidst all his discomfitures, poor Liberalis will j^ersist in his simplicity. Metius, the clever and wicked aristocrat, who makes fun of humanity, will be confounded. Ganeo will be pardoned before him. I believe, with the Sibyl, that justice will reign, if not on this planet, at least in the universe, and that the virtuous man will in the end find that he was .j-iglitly inspired. PREFACE. Ill that o-reat crisis wliicli the positive intellect is forcin- moral beliefs to undergo in our day, I have rather defended than lessened the part of the idea . I have not been one of those timid minds Avhich believe that the truth requires a penumbra, and that the infinite fears the light. I have criticised evervthino-, and in spite of anything that mny be said; I ha?e maintained everything. I have renaered more service to ^hat is good by not concealing any portion ol the reality, than by enveloping my thouo-hts in those hypocritical veils which do not deceive anybody. Our criticism has done more tor the preservation of religion than all the Apologies. We have discovered a rich casket of synonyms tor God. If our reasons for believing in separations bevond the grave appear weak, were those of bygone daVs much more powerful? Teste David cum SibyUa f Centuries have believed in the resurrection on \he testimony of David and of the sibyl, and truly our reasons are worth as much as those. In social, as in theological order, we have put the question to ourselves :—" Who knows whether the truth is not sad? The edifice of human society stands on a great void. We have ventured to say it. There is nothing more dangerous than to ska.te on a, Inver of ice, without considering how thin that Inyer may be. I have never been able to believe that it was a bad thing to see too clearly in any order of thinsrs. Every truth is worth knowing, tor everv truth that is clearly known makes us strong or prudent, two thimrs which are equally necessary to those whom their dutr, imprudent ambition, or their bad fortune calls upon to mix themselves up with the iiffairs of this poor humanity. DEAMATIS PERSOIs^^. ANTISTIUS, Priest of Nemi. METIUS, Chief of the Patricians. LTEERALIS, Chief of the Eclightened Citizens. CETHEGUS, Chief of the Demagogues. TITIUS, ) / Moderate and sensible Citizens of Alb?.. VOLTINIUS, ) DOLLABELLA, a Fanatic. TERTIUS, Spokesroan of those of superficial good senso. CAKIMENTA, the Sibyl. SACRIFICIDUS, j) Ministers of the temple and of the cave of ther OANEO, ) Sibvl. CASCA, Hired Assassins. LATRO, ' HERDONIUS, an old man. VIRGINIUS, >| VIRGINIA, MATERNA, )- People who have come to consult the oracle. PORCIA, LEPORINUS, J Citizens of Alba. The scene is placed at Alba Longa and at Nemi, near it» THE PEIEST OF XE:1II, IT ACT I. The scene is laid on the ramparts of Alba Longa, a large terrace- covered with enormous green oak trees, on the slope of the mountain. On the horizon is seen a Io'jt hill covered with walls ; that is the Jioma, Quadrata of the Palatine. On the other, another low hill with a temple ; that is the Capitol. The sun is setting m the sea, towards Ostia Tihernia. The- inhabitants of the town come up successively in groups to enjoy the cool air. SCEXE I. TITIUS— VOLTINIUS TITIUS. To tliinlr that that infernal little hillock yonder^ on the horizon, should disturb the x^'sace of Latinm,. and if we are to believe Carmenta's oracles, perhaps, that of the whole world. YOLTINIUS. Let us leave Carmenta and her dreams alone. One thing is certain, these brigands are strange fellows, a mixture of malefactors and of orderly men, of jurists and of swaggerers. Every day this work ad- vances, and not satisfied with having built Albn, their mother, they are organising their city in such a manner that one might at times believe that they "were working for humanity. lu that paltry town they talk in such an arbitrary manner that one might imagine that it was the duty of its inhabit- ants to give a code of laws to the whole world. Just look, by the side of the walls of the Palatine a 12 THE PEIEST OF NEBII. temple is risinq^ on tlie liillock, and the iDroplietic echoes of the Vatican have said that this temple is to be the centre of the human race. TITIUS. More oracles ! I do not believe in them, but that is not of much consequence ; the Avorld does at any rate. What I cannot understand is, that these robbers, who have put themselves outside the pale of human and divine laws, do not devour each other. VOLTINIUS. Oh ! commonplaces of everjda^f politics ! Divisions are marks of life and vigour. Order and preserva- tion in the world, are the work of repentant Anarchists. Everybody who preserves order has had an ancestor who was a bandit. When Hercules had stolen the oxen of Cacus, he became an ardent de- fender of property. TITIUS. It is hard to be beaten by newcomers. VOLTINIUS. Yes, but we only require to know Low to wait, in order to be the conquerors. The wheel of fortune turns in such a manner, that one can neither hasten nor delay its motion. Just now, revenge is impos- sible — defeat is certain. We are more advanced, more civilisf^d than tliey are, and social questions •exist more for us tlian they do for them. The ideal 2Jerfection of the laws is not strength ; the nation THE PKIKST OF NE3II, IS •wliicli is looked u])on as backward is almost always the conqueror. A people wliicU is iiiternnlly dis- turbed by tlie malady of progress, cannot make war, but it is like a Avonnded man who has a sear on his ]eg — nt ordinary times the scar is nothiii^^, but if tlie wounded man lias to take any Tioleiit exercise, (and Avar is the grand proof of a nation's temperament,) the wound opens, and the inferiority becomes apparent. And then, the game is not ecpial between Eomo and us. We are staking everything. If Alba is beaten again, she will cease to exist, but it is not the case with Eome. Xot to risk everything against an opponent who is only sUiking part of his fortune is an elementary principle of every game. TITIUS. You are arguing as if men were not passionate and instinctive animals. It is very well to wait, but one often dies of waiting. Those robbers have a party in the heart of our city, and signals are exchanged between these ramparts and that hill. Those pre- tended oracles of the Sikyh which announce that the destinies of Latium will be accomplished by Rome, are daily treachery. And can you understand what Antistius is doing? He is sapping the very founda- tions of our walls by his inopportune innovations. VOLTINIUS. When the priests begin to introduce innovations, bev/are ! They go to the very end. But between ourselves, it is allowable to say what we think. Too much impcrtance is attached to religion, and the common people do not believe in it as much as some of us imagine. Cethe"-us and his adherents are 14 THE PKTEST OF NE3II. imicli more dangerous, and the war of the classes is the ruin of a country. The common people believe that a city is composed of houses ; they do not un- derstand that a city is chiefly made by its ramparts. They are its defenders — its institutions. A de- mocracy without a family and without institutions is an open town, and those who defend and preserve society have a right to privileges, for nothing would exist without them. TITIUS. At least, as long as the said society has enemies. VOLTINIUS. One always has enemies, except on the islands which they call Atlantides, and which I fancy have no existence anywhere. Life is a struggle between the causes of destruction, and whoever does not de- fend himself well, is lost. Groups a^e formed on tlie ramparts, and the conversation becomes general. SCENE II. A group of citizens. FIRST CITIZEN. The most dangerous animal is a hungry animal, ^and when an individual who has reached the last Till': PRIEST OP NE3II. stnge of liunc^er, and asks for "work it is as well to give liim some. SECOND CITIZEN. But the sources of T^oik are not inexliaustiblo. Our fathers dug an outlet for the lake, the want of which was scarcely felt, at a great cost ; an oracle bad demanded it. What can we do now ? FIRST CITIZEN. Last year a ditch was dug on the north side of the city ; it might be filled up. THIRD CITIZEN. Bat this ditch is necessary. FIRST CITIZEN. All the more reason for filling it up ; then a fresli one will have to be dug next year.^ SCENE III. A GROUP OF COMMON PEOPLE. A MAN OF THE PEOPLE. What a terrible time ! One hears nothing talked about, except scourges and misery. 16 THE PRIEST OF NE3II. ANOTHER MAN OF THE PEOPLE. Yes, notliing is talked :iboiit except iTiisfortunes and terrible progidies. The linrvest will be ruined this year, and we are threatened with pestilence. DOLABELLA. That is cfiite simple. Diana has no real priest, and so she is . avengiiig" herself. The temple is the centre of the causes of the world, and the world's order depends on the order of the rites which are observed there. The God's are like nieu who give and take. . . . ^Vhen Japiter Latiaris was surfeited with victims, Jupiter guarded Latiuiii. When Diana lind the priest wiiom she liked, Diau?A. protected us. The priest whom we now have is not; serious: he did not kill his predecessor with his own hand, as the good old custom requires. A MAN OF THE PEOPLE. And besides that, he does not look like ^a priest. Everybody ought to act his prirt, and it is the auty of a priest to practise the ceremonies which were observed belbie his time. HERDONLl'S. It is quite certain that what is done nowiidays iloes not the least resemble what was dune formerly. I have seen tlu' old priests; they v/ere thorough scoundrels, but tliey were lawiui priests, becausf--^ the rule had been observed. T can tell yon, that ever since I was a child I Inive been told that ihe THE PEIEST OF NEMI. IT temple was formerly an asylum, tlie rule of wliicli was that it could not protect more than one criminal at a time, and that produced strauge candidates. One would drive out the other, who did not, however,. allow himself to be ousted willing-ly. The poor could not sleep ; he looked after himself, and watched his guards at the same time, for fear that one of tliem might wish to become priest in his turn, and so he- liad no time for thinking about anything. MAN OF THE PEOPLE. That is exactly what is required to make a priest. A priest ought not to think. ANOTHER MAN OF THE PEOPLE. Certainly not, but it is very strange that the old.' order of things should have become respectable. ANOTHER. That is so; but usage makes things respectable.. Oh ! the comedy of human affairs! . . . But the philosopher takes things as he iinds them. Just look at Antistius ; he is the firs b priest who has not been a knave of the lowest class; very well then;. this will end badly. TITIUS. The first man who puts down a usage, an abuse as it is called, is always the victim of the service which lie has rendered to his fellows* 18 THE PRIEST OF XEMI. MAN OF THE PEOPLE. That is liiM own fault. Why does lie meddle witn what is no business of his ? SCENE IV. GROUP OF ARISTOCRATS ; 'THEN PEOPLE OF THE LOWER ORDERS. METIUS. The nation whicli endures the wrongs of its con- queror for more than ten years is ended as a nation. The Avrong- becomes the more outrageous when it proceeds from a youthful nation, with no far-dating past, and which owes everything to you. AVhat ! a set of robbers, of refugees, of outlaws of all kinds, lias been able to sully the ancient glory of Alba Longa — and there are still hearts in Alba Avhich hesitate? Everyday thrusts us down deeper into the miry ditch, and we are divided into classes be- cause we do not fight against the common foe. Hatred of Rome is the criterion of a good citizen of Alba. In reality, this wretched little village repre- sents revolution, and I hate it. I hate upstarts, new- comers, ungrateful people. They ought to have raised the temple which they are building to Jupiter OapitolinuS;, to the Goddess Fortuna o£ bandits. LIEERALIS. Do you wish destiny to alter its decrees ? In that THE PEIEST OP NEMI. 19 case, you sliould recall tliat simple and honest Priscns, the last de^tcendant of our ancient kings, from ban- ishment. METIUS. That would be the best thing to do. Priscus is the only incontestable possessor of the legitimatt^ title of the ancient kings of Alba. Perhaps our future revival as a nation depends upon him. LIBKRALIS. And if you Avere also to re-establish the ancient laws of King Latinus ? METIUfe. It would be a very good thing. LIBERALIS. Why not admit that the state of human society can be improved ? Why not admit that even these Roman robbers have some good in them ? You know that their mission is to abolish human sacrifices, and who can blame them '? METIUS. So you also are attacked by Antistius' folly 1^ E»eligion is a whole that must not be touched, and to curtail any of those venerable practices, would be to destroy them. They alloAv of no discussion, for as 20 THE PRIEST OF XK:ri. soon as a man begins to argue about religion, lie be- comes an Atheist. A Republic wliicli was politically healthy, would look upou the exile or the death of- Antistius as its first dutv. LIBERALIS. Why should yon find fault with such an honest man, the first sensible priest that ever lived ? Is it not, thanks to him, that our terrible sanctuary on the lake has lost the greater part of its horrors? He has abolished the hideous right of succession. Was there anything more horrible? We are commanded to do good in the name of the Gods, and we do evil in their honour. He wished to obtain his priest- - hood from the purest source, by popular election. DOLABELLA. Come, come ! Election by the people goes for nothing in religious matters, for the people cannot dispose of the sacra. At present there is no priest of Kemi, LIBERALIS. So much the better if this priest can be essentially" nothinfr but a horrible murderer. METIUS. It was the established rite, and no more absurd than anything else. That old. custom Avas like all other old customs. It goes down so deep that its- roots cannot be seen, and rises up so high that the eye cannot perceive its summit. The obscure oracle,.. THE PKIEST OF NEMI. 2t :iit tlie sam9 time absurd and divine, is the old <3ustom. Those ancient enigmas all possess their own profound wisdom. Clear designations are re- ^cjnired for human and divine functions. Tlie least doubt is weakening, and doubt is a moral evil. If jnen's selection were made according to merit, who would decide as to merit. Drawing lots is often more enlightened than the suffrage is, but frauds, • competitions, and civil war result from it. On the other hand, to kill the mn,n whom one replaces is quite clear and easily proved, and renders all com- petition impossible; and after all, what is more iii conformity with the general laws of the world? The amount of enjoyment is limited ; he who enjoys the X)ossession of a thing, tells him who does not. One always murders the man whose heir one is. It is n, •good thing, for an ambitious man should find himself face to face with some sort of justice ; and that justice is, that he is to be treated in the same way as he has treated others. After all, nobody is obliged to become a candidate for these perilous posts, and no one who appeals to violence can end the 'age of violence. Men are overthrown by means of that force by which they overthrew others, and all that is conformable enough to that particularly halting justice which presides over the destinies of this uni- verse. LIBERALIS. But must we not be grateful to the man who in the name of an inspiration for good, protests against the ferocious laws which have been handed down to him by barbarous ages, or, if you prefer it, by the .fatal necessities of primitive ages? 22 THE PRIEST OF NEMI. HERDONIUS. I was present at the scene wlien Antistius pnt air end to that scene of blood and horrors. The old priest Tetricus, seeing the taste for reform which young Antistius showed on every occasion, had pnt his name on the Hst of victims devoted to Jupiter Latiaris. Antistius resisted with weapons in his hand (I myself think that he was quite right), beat the purveyors of victims, took the temple by assault, and put his sword to the throat of Tetricus. I was there and saw it all ; he had only to thrust in the point two fingers deep, and he would have been the lawful priest ; but he Avould not do it. " Live," he said, ''infamous old priest; I intend to suppress your bloody rites by pardoning you." Tetricus died of rage some time afterwards, and the people put Antistius in his j)lace. A MAN OF THE PEOPLE. Ah ! Excellent man ! That will not do him much good. He did not kill him. Nothing is so good as the indications of fate according to the accepted rules. Legality is the pole star of religion. Merit matters little ; external signs are everything. ANOTHER MAN OF THE PEOPLE. Yes, Antistius is an excellent man; but everything will go badly when he is priest of IS'emi. ANOTHER. Well, really, has a priest of that sort ever been seen before?^ He drsams, and looks as if he were ACT FIRST. 23 praying from Lis lieart. The Gods do not listen to the heart ; they only pay attention to the lips and the established formulas. I wonder whether Antistius takes them seriously. ANOTHER. Ah! that is the question. Does he believe in any- thing? They say that he makes Sacrificulus, his acolyte, repeat the low prayers, and Sacrificulus looks as if he were commissioned to pray for him. ANOTHER. That is why the world is coming to an end. METIUS. The excellent man is quite right. A priest is only commissioned to repeat formulas, and formulas are meant for the mouth and not for the lieart. There is ridiculous confusion here. Artistius wishes to make religion serve human progress, and the happi- ness of mankind, so that the course of the world ma v be smoother, and other chimeras of that sort. The whole thing is absurd. Religion has only to do with the worship due to the Gods, and the State only up- holds it in order that it may do so. ANOTHER. That is true ; we must not look into relisrion too closely. Formulas, if they are strictly analysed, sig- nify nothing. 24 THE PKIEST OP NEMI. ANOTHEK. I am for giving tlie ijrods tlieir share, but not too large a one. I am for religion, but within limits. The priest before the altar, and he has nothing to look after besides. The Gods are something, but only exaggerated minds maintain that they are everything. I am a moderate man myself, and avoid extremes. SCENE V. SACEIFICULUS enters looking scared. SACRIFICULUS. A fresh oracle from Carmenta. SEVERAL VOICES. Let us hear it ! Tell it us quickly ! SACRIFICULUS, solemnly. Through 'Rome the language of Latium will become the language of the Universe, Some of them laugh. ACT FIRST, 25 A VOICE. Always the same old song ! Always Rome, Rome ! ^Vliy does she uot go to Rome and take them with Jier ? VOLTINIUS. The woman is mad. I have always said that she ought to have been married young. A VOICE. Just see what a farce it is, pray. The language of Latium, which is no longer spoken at three leagues from here, is to be spoken as far as the Euphrates jind beyond the pillars of Hercules ! What non- sense ! ANOTHER. And, besides, what does it matter to us ? How is it possible to take any interest in people who are to live five hundred years hence ? ANOTHER. She also speaks sometimes of a religion which -will come from the East, where the pious man will "be he who breaks the statues of the Gods, and where the Divinity will be served by good actions and good thoufrhts. o ANOTHER. That poor woman's head is a perfect chaos; a, world turned upside down. When anybody begins 2G THE PRIEST OF XE3II. like slie does, to join antitheses together and to pile up impossibilities, there is no reason for stoj^ping"- It would be just as sensible to say at once that black is white, and that the beautiful is horrible. YAKIOUS VOICES. That is quite evident ! SCENE YI. CETHEGUS enters. Various movements. MEN OF THE PEOPLE. Everything is going badly ; everything is going badly. CETHEGUS. Yes, everything is going badly, and yet every thing- might quite easily be going well. The aristocrats- are selfish men swollen with pride, leeches which live on the blood of thej^eople. What does it matter to thein if the commonplace people die of hunger, as- long as their own bars are full? What they call principles are merely secrets Avliich have been handed down from father to son, in order to oppress the real citizens. They drag us into war in order to maki; themselves of some importance, and so that they may ACT FIRST. 27 liave the cliance of commanding' ns, and tlien of making themselves a burden to us, in the name of alleged services ^vhich they have done us. The evil TTOuld come to an end on the day on which every soldier, before marching against the enemy, were to kill his officer, in the name of equality. Then we should divide the land amongst ourselves, and we should be happy, for there would be no more great or small people. A CITIZEN. How right he is ! Ys'nv is the source of the privi- lesres of the o^reat, and the ori<2:in of aJl the misfor- tunes of the common people. War only breaks out because there are soldiers, who find their profit in it. Military aptitude is one of the aristocratic vanities which serve most to keep up the prejudice of their superiority. ANOTHER. That is true. Courage is a luxury, and it ought to be taxed^ like all other sumptuary articles are. ANOTHER. I have often thought, in fact, that virtue ought to be taxed, and that man ought to be assessed for the- good they do, for after all, it is a pleasure which they give themselves. ANOTHER. What he says is very sensible. Virtue and courage are useless articles, abuses, and usurpation of the aristocracy. When every man has had his own bib of land, he will very well know how to defend it. It :.'28 THE PKIEST OP I^EMI. ds like doing good ; tliere are some people wlio arer ioiid of it, and so tliej ouglit to pay for it. TITIUS, who has lieard everything. (Aside.) It makes me shudder. Society rests on •truths which are too subtle for the common j^eople to be able to see them. What is apj)arently clearer than the labourer's reasoning : — " I have harrowed and sown this field, therefore the corn which it produces ought all to belong to me." And yet nothing can be falser. The armed man who defends it is its real owner, for without the armed man, the enemy would come and seize the land. WJiat the common people understand the least is that an isolated man cannot withstand any organised military force. CETHEGUS. Yes, the soldier is our master, and our master is our enem^^ In battle, wounds and death are our share, whilst the glory belongs to him. We are not such fools ! The system of patron and client is a form of slavery. The slave has not to fight for a city of which he forms no part. They speak of avenging the defeats which Alba suffered ten years ago. As for me, I have never felt myself beaten. ^V^hat do those walls, which we see rising against the horizon every day, matter to us? The enemies of our enemies are, after all, our friends. Certainly, it :is difficult to support the pride of the conquerors, but the disdain of a stranger is less hard than tha contempt of a fellow-citizen. ACT FIKST. LTBERALIS. 21> Do you not see, Cethegus, that your principles- destroy every feeling of patriotism in tins peopltv But yet you possess an Alban heart; tremble! Serve the cause of liberty and progress ^vith us. Are you not touched by tlie beautiful character of Antistius ? CETKEGUS. No; Antistius is just like any other aristocrat. What does he occupy himself with? Does he inspire his Carmenta with any good thoughts for the people? Just look at his last crochet :— The languaire of Latium Avill extend to the ends of t lie- world !" That is another doctrine which will cm use- the death of thousands of men ! What good will it do us, when our bones are lying beneath the earthy that our knguage is spoken all over the world? Civilize the world? :N'onsense ! Establish justice? What a pleasure!. If this new justice is to benefit the world as much as it has us, that is to say, if it is to give us the pleasure of dying of hunger and of being vilified by the patricians, we are much obliged to it. LIBERALIS. But Antistius is going to found a much purer relio-ion than any which the world has known liitherto. CETHEGUS. Oh! What does that matter to us? All priests are alike. Caterpillar or butterfly, it is still the same animal. 20 THE PRIEST OF NEMT. LTBERALIS. The people cling to religion, and Iiow can you, who have their good at heart, repel the liberal priest who wishes to improve religion ? CETHEGUS. For slmme ! The jDeople only cling to religion because the nobles chain them to it, and as soon as 'the sac7'a are not forced upon them, they will make .fun of the sacra. LIBERALIS. But morality, goodness, virtue ? . • . CETHEGUS. Those words are a remnant of priestcraft, and •when we are masters, it will be very different. Those old tyrants tlie gods and the priests will be the last to be driven out, but they will be driven out in their turn. Antistius is a simpleton, and not abreast of his century ; he is at the same time before rjind behind the times, which is a bad position to ho in ! A CITIZEN. Poor Antistius ! ANOTHER CITIZEN. He is lost, for both the aristocrats and the people ;£ire against him ACT FIRST. VOLTINIUS. *^1 Carmenta is his greatest crime. The unwhole- some doctrines of which she is constantly hein*,'- -delivered will ruin everj^thing in the end. She resuscitates I know not what ridiculous old oracles. Political dreams are the most fatal things possible, and the man who dreams of transcendental destinies for his country is his country's worst enemy. TERTIUS. Yes ; Land to land ; that is what never allows a power to fall. Intelligence is the principal faculty for statesmen, and enables them to distinguish between what can, and what cannot possibly happen. As for me, I detest nothing so much as imagination. In order to guard against imposture, I am in the habit of choosing two or three very evident things from amongst the dreams of so-called enlightened men, the impossibility of which is as clear as the day. Then I say to*^ myself : Ah uno disce omnes. For instance, what this mad creature Carmentii. prophecies of a time when the whole world will speak Latin, and of a religion of so-called justice Avhich will come from the East. ... Is not that sufficient to enable us to judge of the rest? And the reason Avhy I alone, amongst all our statesmen, have never been deceived is that I have <»ommon sense; I have never been the dupe of any chimera. A CITIZEN. And such a patriot as well! . . . He abso- lutely denies that Eome has any great destiny before her ; he admits everything that is honourable THE PRIEST OF NEMI. for Alba, and will liear of nothing tliat is not aiitlienticaliy Alban. ANOTHER CITIZEN. That is all right ! As for me, my principal grievance against Antistins and Carmenta is, that the J are always favourable to Rome, and nobodj ought to be just towards an enemj. LIEEKALIS. But, at any rate, we ought to be just towards our own people. Who knows whether the spirit of Latium is not in Carmenta 1^^ It often seems as if she were the voice of this land, and I never listen to her without trembling. Even her oracle: The language of Latmm ivill become the language of the Universe. Well! . . . Who knows :-^ The field of possibilities is much more extensive than our narrow minds believe. Shouts of laucrhtcr. ALL. Tell that to others, please. There are hundreds of lano-naa'es in the world, and do vou think lliat people would give up their own language in order to adopt ours? . • . Ha! ha! ha! A CITIZEN. And Rome is to realize all these grand things, yea sav? ACT FIEST. o-J^ ALL. For sliame ! Oh ! the traitress ! It gets dusk. By degrees the citizens of Alba leave the terrace,. Avhich becomes deserted. Voltinius and Titius remain alone. VOLTIXirS. I tell TOii that a citv is lost ^vhGn it is taken iiij- Tvilh anything- except jDatriotic questions. Social and relio;ions questions me like so much bkct.l drawn from the vital L^treno-th of our countrv. TITI US. Yes, one dies from livinc;' too much, just as one- does from not livino- enouoh. YOLTIXIUS. I think that Alba will die of a muddle. TiTirs. One lives a long^ time when one has that disease* • 34 THE PRIEST OF NEMI. ACT II. The scene is laid in the temple of Nemi, ^v]licll is built on a rock OTerhanoing the lake. In the side of the rock there is a wood .fissure, through -which the oracles are delivered. There is a thick, sacred wood all around. Have you noticed, Ganeo, that tlie tastes of the 'Gods altar, nccordiiif^ to the tastes of the priests ? Do von know that our redoubtable Goddess is •strangely mild towards Antistius? Formerly the more horrible and bloody it was, the more pious the -deed became ; now, our severe Diana, has become a woman, and she Avishes her temple to be as clean :is a (jj/nwcemn. *" I obey, but have not been struck by the diminution in the number of sacrifices ? Of cours'% I have. When men begin no lonp;pr to fear the Gods tliey fall into discredit. We must not alter their attributes. Diana is not one of those ■Goddesses who is to be honoured by g-ames and lauofhter. What an idea to make a, Yenus of her! And then, have we not always been told that sacrifice is the groundwork of the world, a,nd that Allien sac- rifices fall off, everything goes badly ? W^ash, wash away those traces of blood ; take ;away these horrible fragments. Give the good por- tions of the flesh to thf^ poor, and let us. I beseech 3'(^u, get rid of the idea, that the Deity tnkes delight in the details of the slaughter lior.se. Keep a, lamp burning in the sanctuary, for darkness inspires liorror. The lamp is the symbol of religion of the lieart, which is always alive. Groups of poor people appear, and Sacrificulus and Ganeo want ta ■ drive them away. Draw near — dra w near. What has been offered io the Gods belonjis to vou. True sacrifice consists * "Women's \YorkshoD. ACT SECOND. 85 in taking from 'what belon^^s to ourselves and giving- it to those who are in want. GANEO, to Sacrificulns. AViiat Jo you say to all this ? Did you ever heai such ideas? SACRIFICULUS. Xever, upon my word ! It appears tliat now we ought t(^ receive all this rabhlo Avhom Ave used to ^Irive off fornierlv, with kindness. GANEO. Just see how everything changes ! Xew clients for new Gods. AXTISTIUS, alone on the x^eristyle of the temple. Xo, the Deity cannot take pleasure in injustice and crime, nor can human errors prevail against tlie truth. Those Gods possessed of i^assions. Avho are greed}", selfish, bad, do not exist. Those Gods who can be appeased and gained over by 2)resents, not by virtue and goodness, ought to be suppressed if they existed. The best homage that we can render to that sombre and cruel Diana, is to deny her. Chaste and cold shade of our forests, you exist and I love vou. But I shall never believe that a wicked and san- guinar}' spirit dwells under that delightful foliage of the trees which are as old as the world itself, whi<-lL •decay and come to life again of themselves on the .shores of this lake. The emotion which I fear be- neath these sacred vaults is not one of fear, but of 36 THE PRIEST OF NEMI. love ; for I see no place for fear any where in nature, Nature frightened our fathers because they did not understand her. To us she appears kind and smiling, provided that man knows how to guide her, and to use her gifts soberly, by his own wisdom. The gods are an insult to Clod. Thou supreme being, who gives t life to everything and contain est everything, I bow before Thee. The dark waves of the lake ISTemi j)raise thee. Who art thou then? The very cause of the world and of love. "VVlien men commend hatred and death in tliy nnmo, tliey blas^^heme thee. Tliou art the father of all beings, and all creatures are bretliren in thee. I feel thnt I am thy true priest, when I preach to men fraternity and love. Therefore, far from being an apostate from the secular mission of the Latin priests, I am certain. that I am faithful to it and am continuing it. I respect you, and I approve of you, ancient fathers. Inyour iron age, you did what you could, or what ought to be done: and whilst teachini^r error, vou never lied, but we should lie, were we to teacli what we know to be false and baleful. In your time you were the zealous upholders of truth and right, tmd what you were, we now are. Holy ^tradition of the past, tight with those who contradict you. Secret voice of the prophetic soil, speak to me, as you spoke to me in the past. The gods are an insult to God, and in his turn, God will be an insult to what is divine. The gods are capricious, selfish, and narrow-minded, and the one God who will absorb them will too often also be capricious, selfish and narrow-minded. Men are ki[led for particular gods jwlio were born of misun- derstanding nlid misconceptions. Men will be killed for the one God, who has sprung from a first nppli- cation of reason. The particular actions which the common people attribute to the gods, and so-called ACT SECOND. o7 -eiiliglitened tlieology, ^vill, hereafter, alti-ibute to (jod. No, no; God does not act tliroiigli pnr- ticulnr wills any more than the gods do. Pra^-er is nseless. Blind hnmanity, thou pictnrest to thjsdf the Deity as a judge who can be corrupted, at tlio Herxites have sent an embassy whose errand it is to :)ifer a solemn sacrifice to the goddess. The ambassadors come in, followed by prisoners, with their arms Jbound, destined for sacrifice. ^7A S8 TaK PEIEST OF ]S"E3II. THE CHIEF OF THE EMBASS.. Priest of the redoubtable g-oddess, after terrible- scourofes which have ravao-ed our conntrr, an oracle- which our fathers have always obeyed, has coiii- inanded us to sacrifice fire men to the goddess of this terrible lake. We bring* you five men : here they are ; they are handsome, good, and strong- ; such, in a word, as it is usual to offer to the gods. Kill them, or order them to be thrown into the- sanguinary abyss. ANTISTIUS. Cursed be the oracle which has inspired you to- present such votive offerings ! How can you believe that any deity can be so i^^^"^^^^'^^^^ '^^ ^^ take- pleasure in the blood of poor murdered wretches ? THE CHIEF OF THE THEORIA. What do you say? Our forefathers aiway? obeyed the oracle. It is our dependence on the temple of Nemi that constitutes the bond which attaches us to the Latin Confederation. Do you renlly wish us to become adherents of the Volsci? You have your choice. (Points to the victims). Thes3 people are willing to die. Do your duty. ANTISTIUS. Never! Poor victims, who have been devoted to death by culpable prejudices, live and for the future be faithful to the only real v.'orship, that of justice- and of reason. He hat them unbound. ACT SECOND. SO' THE PRISONERS. What does this mean ? . . . AVe looked upon our- selves as ah-eady dead. . . . Tlie tlionght that the goddess wanted us. . . . His are strange ^\^ords ! . . . What is justice ? . . . Tliis is a new kind of priest ! . . . They arc conducted out of the temple. GANEO (to the chiefs of the Theoiia). We forgot to tell yon that the rites of this temple- have been altered for some time past. But Sacrifieulus and I continue the good practices, and that comes to the same thing. They take a few steps. Sacrificuhis and Ganeo open a door which opens on to a precipice ; the lake is at the bottom of it. On looking down, one sees corpses hanging to the rocks, and marks ot blood in all directions. Heaps of bones at the further end. Aided by the chiefs of the Theoria, Sacrifieulus and Ganeo throw the live prisoners into the abyss. GANEO, closing ihe door. There are five who will do as recruits for the army of justice and of reason that Antistius dreams of. Not that thev appeared to be particularly grateful to him,. What is he thinkino^ about? THE CHIEF OF THE THEORIA. He is a fool. It is the worst thing in the world to deliver victims, for thev are the first to turn ao-ainst ^''oa. Besides, the reception one m.eets with in this temple does not invite one to come again. We will go to the Yolsci for the future, who have mysteries -I'O THE PRIEST OF XE3II. which are just as terrible as this one. Thej are a serious and conservative race. Exeunt. SCEISTE IV. GANEO. Priest, a poor woman wishes to speak to you about lier son who is ill. MATEEXA. Yes, priest, I will do everything that I ought, and I will pay anything that you ask, in order that my son, my suj)port and my only hope may be saved. ANTISTIUS. Keep your offerings or share them with those who are poorer than yourself. Can you venture to believe that the Deity will disarrange the order of nature for -the sake of ofifts such as you can bestow? MATERNA, in astonishment. What! you will not save my son? Wicked man. . . My son will die, and it will be your fault. What is the use of having tlie best temple in the world, Avith such priests to serve it? Exit. ACT SECOND. 41 Enter Virginias and Virginia. VIRGINIA. Priest, wliilst teuding our flocks side by side on "fclie slopes of Mount Lucretilus, we fell in love with, eaeli otlior. We both of us felt what love wiis for tlie first time; we brought to each other down, which no contact has polluted, and we had been told that tlio goddess of this temple, who is an inflexible virgin, loves virgins. We have brought her these two doves as an offerino-, and whilst sacrificino* them to her, we beseech ,you, oh priest, to obtain an augurv favourable to our union. ANTISTIUS. Children, children, this temple was built for you ; go into the remotest part of the sanctuary. Open the cage for these birds and give them their liberty. You are bringing the goddess the only sacrifice which pleases her, a pure heart. They lean against an opening, which looks out on to the lake. Holy delights of nature, love which sums them all up, you are the infallible voice, the proof that men are not deceived. Yes, he is a hidden God, in Vv-hom you must believe. Shame on him who looks upon that suj^reme act by which the commonest and the most guilty man is judged to be worthy of propagating the spirit of humanity. Oh ! mother of the descendant of iEneas % pleasure of men and of gods, brood on these two swan's eggs, on these two children who have reserved their first kisses for * Venus. (Translator.) 42 THE PEIEST OF XEMI. encli otlier; let tliem count ns a ]iiik in iliat o^roat eluiiii of the Latin race, wliicli will one day encircle- the wliole world. Love eacli other, children; remain iaithful to one another till death. VIRGIN irs. Oh! the kind priest! He shall cei-iaiiilr always he onr priest. If they Avere all like thi^<, they woukl- be the fathers, the directors of hiunanitv. SCEXE T. A cltputation from the xEquicolti: arrives, and is ir.troduced, THE HEAD OF THE DEPUTATION. Dreaded priest, the people of the ^Eqnicolre, vAic* are greatly divided and who do not know any longer where justice is to be found, have consulted their oracle, and so great is the reputation of the priests of this temple for wisdom, that our oracle has directed us to come and consult you. The ^qnicoke wish for a new Constitution. We will provide all the victims which are necessary to obtain th«' assistance of the deity. Act according to yonr rites, priest, for although we have been separated for a long time, we yet belong to the ol I am a priest, and I am one as long as I live. It is my right, and it is my duty even to'inake -j.digion make every jDossible progress witliout •xlestroying it, but I must iiot cease to be a prie.st. Antistius will never be seen in any otliei part than in that of the master of sacred things, nor ouirht. -anybody to see you, a sibyl, profaned. The noces-sities of our country have made a mad woman of you, :ind those who know do not stop at vour pretended folly. The being consecrated to tlie god^ IS incurable. Your beauty might have insini-ed love; 50 much the worse! You must tiiste death, without having inspired any other feelings excex>fc "those of terror. 48 THE PEIEST OF XE3IT. car:menta. Oh, unbearable m ask ! Forg-ive me if I at times wislr to taste life and reality. I Avoiild gladly die for tli*,.- truths whicdi you teach ; but how is it that you, who- are so conscientious and truthful, compel me to liei^ ANTISTIUS. No, no. I have never told you to speak any tiling except the truth. The world is led by j^i'ophets, by those who can see the efPects in the causes. Tlie Sibyl has never lied, and has never made a mistake. The Sibyl is the voice of Latium, the guide of the 'Latin race, the revealer of its destinies. Every race creates its own destinies, and by creating them she sees and strengthens them. A strong man does not make a mistake when he calls himself strong, nor the clear-sighted man, when he says that he sees clearly. Look at the port of Antium and all that part of the country which is washed by the sea. The ships of the Phoenicians bring us playthings, and the Greek triremes something better. But where will force come from ? Who will give the untrained strivings of the world towards what is good, an axe or a sword? Yes, I believe in my race. Italy will some day be Latin, and the world will obey Italy, CARMENTA. By the time that that happens, I shall have been; forgotten. Nobody will remember poor Carinenta. ACT SECOND, 49' ANTISTIUS. Of course not. I suppose joii wisli the prophet to be immortal, like his oracle. You -will not be worse- used than the millions r)f creatures whom nature- sacrifices to her i^reat works. CARMEXTA. But YOU often sny that the clays of A1ba are over,. nnd that those old heaps ot" lava, Avhieh form onr mountains Avill see its gloiy transplanted elsewhere. ANTISTIUS. Yes, these transfers iake place nmonci'>t the- privilep'ed races. Alba will die, but Rome will live- iiud will do what Aiba ou^ht to have done. CAKMEXTA. When I say that in those verses which yon know,. I see that tbe eyes of those who hear flash with ang-er.. ANTISTIUS. Men are ardent in a cause, because they do not see- that human affairs all hani]: toGrether. CAPtMEXTA. father, when I am with yon and hear yonr words, which I feel contain life although I do not a 1 ways- understand them, I am ready to make any sacrifice^ * 50 THE PUIEST OP NE3II. .aud I accejDt mj destiny, hard tlioiigli it be. But on rtlie other hand, when ] am not sustained by your looks, I grow weak. The election from on high which creates vocations separately is good for the man, but cruel towards the woman. She has no -compensation when she is deprived of the ordinary pleasures of life. ANTISTIUS. And yet it is woman who will set the world the •example of devotion and of fidelity. Cniinenta, your fastened dress, and your black robe, will be tlie mark of a noble arujy of women who will look to a-eligion for a programme of duties, and to chastity for the dignity of life. Woman will undei'stanJ better than man that life is of no value except for the obligations attaching to it, and by the spiritual fruit which it bears. CARMENTA. We will do whatever you wish provided that you -will sustain us, i3rovided that you will allow us to love you and to believe that we are loved by you. Woman Avill never do good except through man's love. Would you really wish to condemn us on that account ? ANTISTIUS. Dear daughters of a sex that I love, how could I blame that which, in yon, constitutes 3'onr strength .and your value? Woman ought to love man, and man ought to love God. Anything great that is .achieved in the order of the ideal is done by the ACT SECOND. -collaboration of men and Avonien. The sacred work to wliicli I have devoted myself, and which will kill me in order to bring- abont after my death the • expnlsion of all impure and malevolent i^^ods, Avill only be nccomplished on the dny when woman will rebel niX'iinst a relig-ion which is not worthy of that name, and will die rather than submit to it. Nothinij;' is ever done in the world nntil men and woman brinof to bear, the former his reason, and the latter dier obstinacy and her fidelity, on matters. CARMENTA. And so you love me and allow me to love you. ANTISTIUS. Dear daughter, love is the Goddess who is adored under a thousand various names. Yirginius and Virginia, whom you perhaps saw a short time ago, love each other in a manner that nature approves of and blesses, and at every rung of that endless ladder love becomes transfixed, and lubricates the joints of this universe. Everything good and beautiful that is done in the world is done on the same principle Avliich attracts two children towards each other. Orpheus' love would have been as great as that of the most perfect lover, even if he had not found Eurydice. I must confess it — in my opinio)i Eury- ■dice lessens him, and I am sorry that she cooped his life. What has a woman to do in the life of a, nniiL Avhose mission it is to save or to civilise humanity':* Divine missionaries like <3rpheus ought to be loved more than they love, but it is permissible for women to kiss the hem of their robe, and to Avash their feet. v^ 52 THE PRIEST OF NEMI. CARMEXTA. That Avill suffice us ; only let us know that we^- have your approval and that you look upon us. What more do we want'? Command me, reprimand me, chastise me, as loiiu* as I feel that vou nre mv master. I will repeat every word that you utter ; you shall be my conscience, my sou], and I will wallow at your feet. But a dull sky, from which no- one looks at us, an icy Avorld in which we havo neither fatiier, nor husband, nor spiritual head.- Pardon me, but |we shall resign ourselvt's to that with difficulty. Tell me, father, do you sometimes tliink of Carmenta? Am I anything to- you? ANTISTIUS. Your heart is right, even when your reason is at fault. There is a gentle madwoman at the bottom of every female heart, who must be brought to her senses by caresses and tender words. CARMENTA. Yes, bring me to myself again ; correct me. [N'o- body can ever possess a man like you are, altogether, to obey you is enough for me. Only, I wish to have what I have of you, all to myself. . . . Alone, you understand. I am jealous, you see. ANTISTIUS. Man Avishes to mark out a zone in the Infinite for himself, which shall belong to himself alone, and woman wishes to have a part in man which shall belong to her alone. Infinite indulgence looks- ACT SECOND, 53 'tlown upon every thiiijx. The work Avas so Jiflicnlt to extract a considerable amount of devotion from a • compact mass of selfishness. And to think that the world succeeds in doinc^ so ! CARMEN TA. Do 3'ou not sometimes feel some clinnge in your- self? When jour eyes close at night on the picture of this lake and this forest, do vou not resfret vour life as a man "which has been wasted, your virile part which has bo^n abolished ? Where will you find a recompense for all that '? AXTISTIUS. I do not know, nnd I do not wish to know. I have been in the service of what is good; that is all that I am sure of. That thought alone makes nnin divine; it inspires and fills him with the Infinite. CARMEXTA. That is a recompense certainly, but is it not fair that we should have ours also? Man lias the assur- ance of doing good, whilst the recompense of weak Avoman is a man's smiles. Is that too much ? I will tsulfer anything that you wish, but you thank me for it, will you not? ANTISTIUS. kissing her forehead. Sister in duty and martyrdom, I love you. Z)4t THE PRIEST OF NE3II. CAKMEXTA. Now dispose of uie for life anddeatli. Comtnnnd. Tour Sibyl will not ^ive up lier black robe. I will say whatever the love of truth, and the interests of Latium may inspire you with. Black-clad sisters, if I may see into the future, when they come in the name of reason, to lift up your veil, refuse to be free ; faithfully keep your mortuary vow. Shame upon her who is converted to vulgar good sense, after having tasted divine folly I' The vow of holy insanity is the only one from which. one can never be relieved. ACT III. The scene is laid in Alba, in the implurlum*, in the house ot Metius. SCENE L METIUS, VOLTINIUS. METIUS. No, believe me, there is no more time to be lost. - Every day a stone falls from that ancient, skilfully— *The open space in the atrium, ox hall, of a Roman hou^e. Translator. ACT TIIIT^D. 55 "built mass wliicli was Albn. li 'li<;ioiis and socinl questions are reiuliiif^ it in pieces; patriotidiii is called ill question; a iiuniber of people nre bef^inninii- to believe that the most unhappy fnte that can befall a man is to die for his countrj. Antistius is troubling the Republic by his innovations and his silly idea of innny^uratino- n, sensible religion. Dis- order reigns everywhere, and if we look at it closely, the fault rests with ns. Woe be to the aristocracy which looks upon its ancient claims ns conferring the right of r:^pose? We are aristoci*ats, not in order to enjoy, but to dare. We must save Alba, and in order to save her we must throw her into deep water, oblige her to do what slie does not like — to act a manly part. \V^ar assures his rank to the brave man — to him who is the head of society by right. War is the true cri-^ terion of what is right, and gives courage the ad- vantage over numburs, and it demonstrates the ne~ cessitj for virtue. VOLTINIUS. War against whom are you speaking about? METIUS. T am evidently speaking about war against Rome.. Alba will not think of any other. VOLTINIUS. But why enter into such a war? METIUS. Because we have been beaten. The 2)rinciple .'56 THE rPtlEST OP NE3II. Tvliicli mnkes a nation is n, principnl of pride. ()i loftj self-assertion, of li:ing'litiiies>, if you like. A liumble .nation is soon punished. VOLTINIUS. Tiieii a nation is something very impolite ? METIUS. Yes. With the collection of those qualities which ■constitute Avhat is called a great nation, one would make a most detestable individual. A nation is an animal g'iveu to glory ; it feeds on glory; it lives on it. A conquered nation has only half an existence and revenge is a nation's permanent duty. If Alba waits ten years Ion o-er, she will be done for. It is better t(i die of a deep wound in front, than to die .the death of an old man in the full vigour of life. VOLTINIUS. You forsret two thinors: the first is, that the ilemoc ratio party Avhich is now master in the direc- tion of affairs in our country, is by no means a .military part}^ ; and the second is, that at the present time (I will take care not to prejudice the future), Rome is showing surprising moderation to- 'wards us, METIUS. All that is of little consequence. The democracy, •and that is, perhaps, its principal fault, does not do as it pleases. The democratic party is essentially j)acific^ and it has good reasons for being so, and yefc ACT THIRD. 57 it is tlie party wliicli most readily embarks in war, for it is a party which calls for the highest bid of opinions, and tiieii it is very difficult to resist the enthusiasm of the moment. Now, for example, Liberal is is in power, and he is the most pacific of men — oh ! sincerely pacific. Well, 1 am not at all sure that, it" it should come to pass, Liberalis would not be the leader in a war which he had opposed. Nobody likes to give np power into the hands of an opponent, and for that reason one does wiiat one secretly blames oneself for. Rome, I confess, is not inclined to go to attack ns at this present moment. It is a young tirrev whose teeth are growing. Its walls are scarcely built yet; the fusion of the various elements Avhich lire closely packed together there, has not yet been accomplished. But Avar, as a rule, is more tlie result of a sadden situation, than of the wish of men. Believe me, we shall have Avar before many days are over. VOLTINIUS. You want war, and that is a great reason why we should have it. But explain a contradiction to me. You often reproach our people for not having a military spirit. How then can you imagine that at the same time it is so enamoured of war — that it would drive its rulers to it, although they do not wish for it ? METIUS. The two j^ropositions are both true at the same ti'.ne. The demagogic masses, who are incapable of understandino- the advantacres of a militarv oio-nn- isation. and who are always uneasy at the ascend- iincy A^hlcli a victorious general might obtain, never- ^.<2 5i5 THE PRIEST OF NE3II. theTess Tir<^e war on, because ihaj profit bj it. AVnr- suspends work; nothing is done durhif^ sucli times ; men nre fed for a derisive service, and they have the satisf fiction of sajin<^ to themselves that they are- watchiiif^ over the safety of their country. What liappiuess to be a hero, without runniuo- miy risk, at so much a day ! In that mnnner, the time of war- is a time of enjoyment for those Avho have notliintj;- to los^s and who often profit indirectly by pi]]:i«i:ini^ the enemy. After a defeat, these unhappy heroes- speak ont loudly, and are diffuse in their blame of their leaders, who betrayed tliem, as they say. A SERVANT enters. Do your lordships know that this morning at Bovilles, a band of young Albans who were cele- - bratiug a family festival, with their heads covered with cliaplets of flowers, picked a quarrel with a party of Romans who were passing-':^ A fight en- sued, and five or six of our men were killed. Melius looks at Voltinius slvlv. VOLTINIUS. We ought to know who were the aggressors, 'and a careful inquiry will bring it to light. There is no disgrace in a wrong which we have committed. THE SERVANT. Naturally both parties maintain that their oppo- nents were in the wrong. At this moment, the- citizens are running to the Forum in great excite— ment. ACT THirD. 51^' METIUS. Let us go and see what is taking place. SCEXE I[. THE FOIIUM OF AT.CA. FIRST CITIZEN. The question is, whether it is not better to die,- than to bear wrongs tiiat are worse than death. SECOND CITIZEN. Yes, jes — that is it. THIRD ClTiZEX. Death rather than outrage. ANOTHER. Yes, war ! To Rome ! To Rome ! VOLTINIIS. But tahe care, tou are not i-oady. For ten years^ Rome has only had one thought, that of periecting: ^ ••60* THE prai:sT op xemi. her niilitaiy sj'steni ; jow. liave allowed yorr3 to cle-" • decline. Wait, at any rate, Avait. AX EXCITED CITIZEX. Tv^Iint bad citizen says that? We ought to kill diiui and burn his house down. AXOTHErt. It is the ".Yorst form of treason to discourage i^at- Tiotism. Enter Liberalis ; a general movement. LIBERALIS. Citizens, it befits the dignity of a free people to -weigh its actions carefully, and to foresee their con- sequences. I do not wish to anticipate the results • of the incpiiry into the deploro.ble colhsion which took place this morning VARIOUS CRIES. The inquiry has been made ; the result is clear, LIBERALIS. Let us suppose that the result is clear ; is it well ^:o involve the Republic of Alba in a war, the conse- quences of which would be to overthrow the consti- stution that you Avished for? If the war turns out unfortunately for us, it will be the ruin of oar country ; conquered twice in ten years, Alba would •disappear from amongst the number of cities. If we ACT THIT7D. GI succeed, the war will give yoa aa impzrcitor — i vic- torious general. SEVERAL VOICES. Well, well, upon uij word, so much the hotter! We shall not be worse off thau we are. LIBERALIS. A victorious general would he the death of the Republic. More violent interrruption. A loud voice is heard and a procession enters iuto the Forum. Five dead bodies covered with blood are borne by. Extraordinary emotion. Liberalis tries to speak. VOICES ON ALL SIDES. Ko more talk ! Xo more talk ! Arms ! Vengeance l To Eome ! To Eome ! CETHEGUS, in a low voice to those who are standing round him : Leave them alone. It will, at any rate, be the i*uin of the liberals. METIUS approaches. General attention. Citizens, all dissensions ought to cease when it is^ the question of the honour of our couutrj. ALL. That is talking like an Louest mau. Those old' aristocrats have some r>'ood in them occasional! v. n ■432 THE PRIEST OF NEMI, ]WETIUS. We nre not going to declare war, for it Las been ^leclnred nlready. I offer all that I possess for tlie preservation of my country. VOICES OF THE PEOPLE. Bravo, bravo. Me tins ! L^BERALIS. prevent it, but now that war has become obtrusive, I shall be as active, and as ardent in the cause of '^var as I was formerly in the cause of peace. SOME CRIES ARE HEARD. Very good ! very good ! TITIUS. Just look ! Everybody now wants that war, wltieSi. nobody would hear about a short time ago. G4 THE pr.iEST OF xr::ii. METIUS, triumphant. Did I not tell TOii so, Yoltiniiis? YOLTIXIUS, whispering to Mctius. Yon wretcli ! Y^ou know better tluin anyone e\s&' that defeat is certain. METIUS AND THE POPULACI], ToEome! ToEame! VOLTINIUS. How can you act npon the errors of the common- herd as yon are doing-? You know quite well that war is a barbarous thing, and that, in war, the conqueror is most barbarous. Liberty, which is the- best thing in the world, is weakness in war, because real virtues become disadvantageous in war. Those virtues which avo call warlike are all either faults or vices. True virtue, civilization, goodness, gentleness^. make mankind unfitted to kill each other. METIUS. Thiit is so, certainly. Bn"-. do yon not know that the prosperity of the populace constitutes an evil in itself"? The populace is worth nothing exce2)t when it suffers. I should like to know v/hen you will understand that human affairs are only a confused prison in which a man must break his head against the wall on the right hand and on the lel"t, before him. ACT THIRD. C> CRIES OF THE TOPULACE. To Eome ! To Komo : SCENE III. THE TEMPLE OF NEMI. ANTISTIUS, standing by the lake in contemplation. It is impossible to get over tliis triple postuLite of moral life: — God, Justice, Morality! Virtue docs not staud in need of men's justice, but it cannot do- without a celestial witness to say to it: — '• Courao-e !. courage ! " Death, which I see approachiug, which I am involdng, and which I shall embrace, t should like you at any rate to be useful to somebody or- something, were it at the distance of the confines of the Infinite. LIBERALIS enters suddenly. Priest, the time for action has come. A fault has- bee. I committed without us ; it cannot be repaired except by us. War against Rome, in any other hands than ours, would be the greatest possible- calamity; help us to limit the evil. But, iirst of all, we must conquer. The oracles are in your hands- Assure the people that the heavenly voices, which liaA^e hitherto been favourable to Eome, are now altogether the contrary. These felloAvs are