Taken by M. d’Asterac to the Isle of Swans I listen to his Discourse on
Creation and Salamanders.
I really do not know how it was possible to tear myself out of
Catherine’s arms. But it is a fact that in jumping out of her carriage
I nearly fell on M. d’Asterac, whose tall figure leant against a tree on
the roadside. Courteously I saluted him and showed the surprise I felt
at this pleasant encounter.
“Chance,” he said, “lessens as knowledge grows; for me it is suppressed.
I knew, my son, that I had to meet you at this place. It is necessary
for me to have a conversation with you already too long delayed. Let’s
go, if you please, in quest of solitude and quietness required by what
I wish to tell you. Do not become anxious. The mysteries I desire to
unveil before you are sublime, it is true, but pleasant also.”
Having so spoken he conducted me to the bank of the Seine opposite the
Isle of Swans, which rose out of the middle of the river like a ship
built of foliage. There he made a sign to a ferryman, whose boat brought
us quickly to the green isle, frequented only by invalids, who on fine
days play there at bowls and drink their pint of wine. Night lit her
first stars in the sky and lent a humming voice to the myriads of
insects in the grass. The isle was deserted. M. d’Asterac sat down on a
wooden bench at the end of an alley of walnut-trees, invited me to sit
close to him and spoke:
“There are three sorts of people, my son, from whom the philosopher has
to hide his secrets. They are princes, because it would be imprudent to
enlarge their power; the ambitious, whose pitiless genius must not be
armed, and the debauchees, who would find in hidden sciences the means
to satiate their evil passions. But I can talk freely to you, who are
neither debauched--for I quite overlook the error you nearly gave way to
in the arms of yonder girl--nor ambitious, having lived, till recently,
contented to turn the paternal spit. Therefore I may disclose to you the
hidden laws of the universe.
“It must not be believed that life is limited by narrow rules wherein
it is manifested to the eyes of the profane. When they teach
that creation’s object and end was man, your theologians and your
philosophers reason like the multiped of Versailles or the Tuileries,
who believe the humidity of the cellars is made for their special use
and that the remainder of the castle is uninhabitable. The system of
the world, as Canon Copernicus taught in the last century, following
the doctrines of Aristarchus of Samos and Pythagorean philosophers,
is doubtless known to you, as there have actually been prepared some
compendiums of them for the urchins of village schools and dialogues
abstracted from them for the use of town children. You have seen at my
house a kind of machine which shows it distinctly by means of a kind of
clockwork.
“Raise your eyes, my son, and you’ll see over your head David’s chariot,
drawn by Mizar and her two illustrious companions, circling round the
pole; Arcturus, Vega of the Lyre, the Virgin’s Sword, the Crown of
Ariadne and its charming pearls. Those are suns. One single look on that
world will make it clear to you that the whole of creation is the work
of fire and that life, in its finest forms, is fed on flames.
“And what are the planets? Drops of a mixture of mind, a little mire and
plenty of moisture. Behold the august choir of the stars, the assembly
of the suns; they equal or excel ours in magnitude and power and after I
have shown you on a clear winter’s night, through my telescope, Sirius,
your eyes and soul will be dazzled.
“Do you in good faith believe that Sirius Altair, Regulus, Aldebaran,
all these suns are luminary only? Do you believe that this old Phoebus,
who incessantly forces into space, wherein we are swimming, his
inordinate surge of heat and light, has no other function but to light
the earth and some other paltry and imperceptible planets? What a
candle! A million times greater than the dwelling.
“I have to present to you first of all the idea that the universe is
composed of suns and that the planets which may be in it are less than
nothing. But as I foresee your wish to make an objection, I’ll reply
to it beforehand. The suns, you want to say, put themselves out in the
course of centuries and by that also change into mud. No! is my reply;
they keep themselves alive by means of comets which they attract and
which fall on them. It is the dwelling of true life. The planets and
this our earth are but the abode of ghosts. Such are the verities of
which I have to convince you.
“Now that you understand, my son, that fire is the principal element,
you’ll easier comprehend what I wish to teach you and which is of
greater importance than anything you may have learned up to now, or
was even known to Erasmus, Turnebe or Scaliger. I do not speak of
theologians like Quesnel or Bossuet who, between ourselves, I consider
as the lees of human spirit, and who have no better understanding than
a simple captain of guards. Don’t let us hamper ourselves by despising
those brains comparable in volume, as well as in construction, to wrens’
eggs, but let us at once enter fully into the object of our conference.
“Whilst those earth-born creatures do not surpass a degree of perfection
which, by beauty of form, has been attained by Antinoüs and by Madame de
Parabère, and at which they alone have arrived by the faculty known to
Democritus and myself; the beings formed by fire enjoy a wisdom and an
intelligence of which we cannot possibly conceive the limit.
“Such is, my son, the nature of the glorious children of the suns; they
know the laws of the universe just as we know the rules of chess, and
the course of the stars does not trouble them any more than the moves
on the chessboard of the king and the other men trouble us. Those genii
create worlds in such spaces of the infinite where none at present
exist, and organise them at their will. It distracts them momentarily
from their principal business, which is to unite among themselves in
unspeakable love. Only last night I turned my telescope on the Sign of
the Virgin and saw on it a far-away vortex of light. No doubt, my son,
that was the still unfinished work of one of those fire beings.
“Truly the universe has no other origin; far from being the effect of
a single will, it is the result of the sublime freaks of a great many
genii, recreating themselves by working on it each in his own turn and
on his own side. That’s what explains the diversity, the splendour and
the imperfection. For the force and foresight of those genii, immense
as they were, had still their limits. I should deceive you were I to say
that a man, philosopher or magician, can have familiar intercourse with
them.
“None of them gave me a direct manifestation of himself, and what I tell
you of them is known to me by induction only, and by hearsay. Certain
as their existence is, I should not attempt to describe their habits and
their character. It is necessary to know when not to know, my son, and I
make it a point not to bring forward other than perfectly well-observed
facts.
“Let those genii, or rather demiurguses, abide in their glory, and let
us treat of illustrious beings who stand nearer to us. Here, my son, is
where one has to lend an open ear.
“If in speaking of the planets I have given vent to a feeling of
disdain, it was that I only took into consideration the solid surface
and shell of those little balls or tops and the animals who sadly crawl
on them. I should have spoken in quite another tone, if in my mind I
had included with the planets the air and the vapours wherein they are
enveloped. For the air is an element in no way of lesser nobility than
fire, whence it follows that the dignity and importance of the planets
is in the air wherein they are bathed. Those clouds, soft vapours, puffs
of wind, transparencies, blue waves, moving islets of purple and gold
which pass over our heads, are the abode of adorable people. They are
called Sylphs and Salamanders, and are creatures infinitely amiable and
lovely. It is possible for us, and convenient, to form with them unions,
the delights of which are hardly conceivable.
“The Salamanders are such that in comparison with them the prettiest
person at court or in the city is but an ugly woman. They surrender
themselves willingly to philosophers. Doubtless you have heard of that
marvel by which M. Descartes was accompanied on his travels. Some
say that she was a natural daughter of his, that he took with him
everywhere; others think that she was an automaton manufactured with
inimitable art. As a fact she was a Salamander, whom that clever man had
taken as his lady love. He never left her. During a voyage in the Dutch
Sea he took her with him on board, shut in a box of precious wood lined
with the softest satin. The form of this box, and the precaution with
which M. Descartes took care of it, drew the attention of the captain,
who, while the philosopher was asleep, raised the cover and discovered
the Salamander. This ignorant, rude fellow imagined that such a
marvellous creature was the creation of the devil. In his dismay, he
threw it into the sea. But you will easily believe that the beautiful
little person was not drowned, and that it was no trouble to her to
rejoin M. Descartes. She remained faithful to him during his natural
life, and when he died she left this world never more to return.
“I give you this example, chosen from many, to make you acquainted with
the loves between philosophers and Salamanders. These loves are
too sublime to be in need of contracts, and you will agree that the
ridiculous display usual at human weddings would be entirely out of
place at such unions. It would be indeed fine, if a proctor in a wig and
a fat priest put their noses together over it! That sort of gentleman is
good only to join vulgar man to woman. The marriages of Salamanders and
sages have witnesses more august. The aerial people celebrate them in
ships which, moved by celestial breath, glide, their sterns crowned with
roses, to the sound of harps, on invisible waves. But do not believe
that, not being entered in a dirty register in a shabby vestry, they
would be of little solidity and could be easily torn asunder. They have
for guarantors the spirits who gambol on the clouds whence flashes the
lightning and roars the thunder. I reveal matters to you, my son, which
be useful to you to know, because I conclude from certain indications
that your destiny is the bed of a Salamander.”
“Alas! monsieur,” I exclaimed, “this destiny alarms me, and I have
nearly as many scruples as the Dutch captain who threw the lady love of
Descartes into the sea. I cannot help thinking these aerial dames are
demons. I should fear to lose my soul with them, for after all, sir,
such marriages are against nature and in opposition to the divine law.
Oh! why is not M. Jérôme Coignard, my good tutor, present to hear you!
I am sure he would strengthen me by his valuable arguments against the
delights of your Salamanders, sir, and your eloquence.”
“The Abbé Coignard,” said M. d’Asterac, “is an admirable translator of
Greek. But you must not want anything from him beyond his books. He has
no philosophy. As far as you are in question, my son, you reason with
the infirmity of ignorance, and the weakness of your arguments afflicts
me. You say, those unions are against nature. What do you know about it?
What means have you to gain knowledge of it? How is it possible to make
a distinction between what is natural and what is not? Is the universal
Isis known enough to discriminate between what is assisting her and
what thwarts her? But to speak better still; nothing thwarts her and
everything assists her, because nothing exists which does not enter into
the functions of her organs and does not follow the numberless attitudes
of her body. I beg of you to say, whence could enemies come to offend
her? Nothing acts against her nor outside of her; the forces which seem
to fight against her are nothing else but movements of her own life.
“The ignorant alone have assurance enough to decide if an action is
natural or not. Let’s admit their illusions for a moment and their
prejudice, and let us feign to recognise the possibility of committing
acts against nature. These acts, are they for that reason worse and
condemnable? On this point I cannot but remember the vulgar opinion
of moralists who represent virtue as an effort over instincts, as an
enterprise on the inclinations we carry within us, as a fight with the
original man. They own themselves that virtue is against nature, and
going further on that opinion they cannot condemn an action of whatever
kind, for what is common to it and virtue alike.
“I have made this digression, my son, to call your attention to the
contemptible lightness of your reason. I should offend you by believing
you still have any doubts of the innocence of the sensual intercourse
men may have with Salamanders. Know then, now, that such marriages, far
from being interdicted by religious law, are commanded by that law to
the exclusion of all others I will give you some conclusive evidence for
it.”
He stopped talking, took his snuff-box from his pocket, and filled his
nose with a pinch.
The night was densely dark. The moon shed her limpid light over the
river, and tremblingly enlaced with the reflections of the street lamps.
The flying ephemerides enveloped us like a vaporous eddy. The shrill
voice of insects rose into the world’s silence. Such a sweetness fell
slowly down from the sky that it seemed as if milk had been mixed with
the sparkling of the stars.
M. d’Asterac spoke again:
“The Bible, my son, and especially the books of Moses, contains grand
and useful verities. Such an opinion may appear absurd and unreasonable,
in consequence of the treatment the theologians have inflicted on what
they call the Scriptures, and of which they have made, by means of
their commentaries, explications, and meditations, a manual of errors,
a library of absurdities, a magazine of foolery, a cabinet of lies, a
gallery of stupidities, a lyceum of ignorance, a museum of silliness,
and a repository of human imbecility and wickedness. Know, my son, that
at its origin it was a temple filled with celestial radiance.
“I have been fortunate enough to re-establish it in its primal
splendour. Truth obliges me to acknowledge that Mosaïde has very much
assisted me with his deep comprehension of the language and the alphabet
of the Hebrews. But let us not lose sight of our principal subject.
Be informed from the outset, my son, that the sense of the Bible is
figurative, and that the capital error of the theologians was to take
it literally, whereas it is to be understood as symbolical. Follow this
truth in the whole course of my discourse.
“When Demiurge, who is commonly called Jehovah, and by many more names,
as all terms expressing quality or quantity are generally applied to
him, had, I do not want to say ‘created’ the world--for such would be
an absurdity--but had laid out a small corner of the universe, as a
dwelling place for Adam and Eve, there were some subtle creatures in
space, which Jehovah had not formed, was not capable of forming. They
were the work of several other demiurges, older and more skillful. His
craft was not beyond that of a very clever potter, capable of kneading
clay beings in the manner of pots, such as we men are now. What I say is
not to slight him, because such work is still much beyond human power.
“But it became necessary to brand the inferior character of the work of
the seven days. Jehovah worked, not in and with fire, which alone gives
birth to the masterpieces of life, but with mud, out of which he could
not produce other than the work of a clever ceramist. We are nothing,
my son, but animated earthenware. Jehovah is not to be reproached for
having illusions over the quality of his work. If he did find it well
done in the first moment, and in the ardour of composition, he did not
take long to recognise his error, the Bible is full of expressions of
his discontent, which often becomes ill-humour, sometimes actual rage.
“Never has artisan treated the objects of his industry with more disgust
and aversion. He intended to destroy them, and, in fact, did drown the
larger part. This deluge, the memory of which has been conserved by
Jews, Greeks and Chinese alike, gave a last deception to the unhappy
demiurges, who, aware of the uselessness and ridiculousness of such
violence, became discouraged, and fell into an apathy, the progress of
which has not been stopped from Noah’s time to our present day, wherein
it is extreme. But I see I have advanced too far. The inconvenience of
these extensive subjects is the impossibility of remaining within their
limits.
“Our mind thrown into them resembles yonder sons of the suns, who cross
the whole of the universe in one single jump.
“Let us return to the earthly paradise, wherein the demiurge had placed
the two vases formed by his hand, Adam and Eve. They did not live there
alone, between the animals and plants. The spirits of the air, created
by the demiurges of the fire, were flowing over and looking at them with
a curiosity mixed with sympathy and pity. It was exactly as Jehovah
had foreseen. Let us hasten to say, to his praise, he had relied on the
genii of the fire, to whom we may now give their true names of Elves and
Salamanders, to ameliorate and perfect his clay figures. In his prudence
he may have said to himself: ‘My Adam and my Eve, opaque and cemented
in clay, are in want of air and light. I have failed to give them wings.
But united to Elves and Salamanders, the creations of a demiurge more
powerful and more subtle than myself, they will give birth to children,
equally originated by light and clay, and who in their turn will have
children still more luminous than themselves, till in the end their
issue will be equal in beauty to the sons and daughters of air and
fire.’
“It must be said he had neglected nothing to attract the eyes of Sylphs
and Salamanders in forming Adam and Eve. He had modelled the woman in
form of an amphora, with a harmony of curved lines quite sufficient
to make him recognised as the prince of geometers, and he succeeded in
amending the coarseness of the material by the magnificent charm of
the form. For modelling Adam he made use of a less caressing, but more
energetic, hand, forming his body with such order, and in such perfect
proportions, that, applied later by the Greeks to their architecture,
those same ordinances and measures made the beauty of the temples.
“You see, my son, that Jehovah applied his best means to render his
creatures worthy of the aerial kisses he expected for them. I shall not
insist on the care he took with a view of making these unions prolific.
The harmony between the sexes is an ample proof of his wisdom in this
regard. And surely at the outset he had reason to congratulate himself
on his shrewdness and ability.
“I have said the Sylphs and Salamanders looked on Adam and Eve with that
curiosity, sympathy and tenderness which are the first ingredients of
love. They approached them, and fell into the clever traps Jehovah had
disposed and spread intentionally in the body and on the belly of these
two amphoræ.
“The first man and the first woman enjoyed during centuries the
delicious embraces of the genii of the air, which conserved them in
eternal youth.
“Such was their lot, and such could still be ours. Why was it that the
parents of the human species, fatigued by celestial luxury, should try
to find criminal enjoyments with one another?
“But what could you expect, my son? Kneaded of clay they had a taste for
mud. Alas! they became acquainted with one another in the same way as
they had known the genii.
“And that was what the demiurge had expressly forbidden them. Afraid,
and with reason, that they would produce between them children as clumsy
as themselves, terrestrial and heavy, he forbade them, under severest
penalties, to approach each other. Such is the sense of Eve’s words:
‘But of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden, God
hath said, Ye shall not eat of it, neither shall ye touch it lest ye
die.’ For you well understand, my son, that the apple which tempted
wretched Eve was not the fruit of an apple-tree; that was an allegory
the sense of which I have explained to you. Although imperfect, and
sometimes violent and capricious, Jehovah was too intelligent a demiurge
to be offended about an apple or a pomegranate. One has to be a bishop
or a Capuchin to support such extravagant imaginations. And the proof
that the apple was what I said, is that Eve was stricken by a
punishment suitable to her fault. She had not been told ‘You will digest
laboriously,’ but it was said to her ‘You’ll give birth in pain’; for
logic sake what connection can be established, I beg of you, between
an apple and difficult confinement? On the other hand, the suffering is
correctly applied if the fault has been such as I showed you.
“That is, my son, the truthful explanation of original sin. It will
teach you your duty, which is, to keep away from women. To follow
this bent is fatal. All children born by those means are imbecile and
miserable.”
I was stupefied, and exclaimed:
“But, sir, could children be born in another way?”
“Happily, some are born in another way,” was his reply; “a considerable
number by the union of men with genii of the air. And such are
intelligent and beautiful. By such means were born the giants of whom
Hesiod and Moses speak. Thus also Pythagoras was born, to whose bodily
formation his mother, a Salamander, had contributed a thigh of pure
gold. Such also Alexander the Great, said to have been the son of
Olympias and a serpent; Scipio Africanus, Aristomenes of Messina, Julius
Caesar, Porphyry, the Emperor Julian, who re-established the oath of
fire abolished by Constantine the Apostate, Merlin the enchanter, child
of a Sylph and a nun daughter of Charlemagne; Saint Thomas Aquinas,
Paracelsus and, but recently, M. Van Helmont.”
I promised M. d’Asterac, as such were the facts, that I would be willing
to lend myself to the friendship of a Salamander, if one were to be
found obliging enough to wish for me. He assured me that I should meet
not one but a score or more, between whom I should have my free choice.
And less by longing for the adventure than to give him pleasure, I asked
the philosopher how it is possible to enter into communication with
these aerial persons.
“Nothing easier,” he replied. “All that’s wanted is a glass ball, the
use of which I’ll explain to you. I have always at home a pretty good
number of such balls, and in my study I’ll very soon give you all
necessary enlightenment. But, for to-day, my son, enough is said of it.”
He rose, and walked in the direction of the ferry, where the ferryman
waited for us, lying outstretched on his back and snoring at the moon.
As soon as we had reached the opposite shore he quickly went on, and was
soon lost in the darkness.