Twilit Grotto -- Esoteric
GIORDANO BRUNO
The Nolan
The Heroic Frenzies
Dedicated to that most illustrious and excellent knight
Sir. Philip Sidney
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GIORDANO BRUNO
NOLANO.
DE GLI EROICI FURORI
AL MOLTO ILLUSTRE ED ECCELLENTE CAVALLIERO,
SIGNOR FILIPPO SIDNEO.
------
PARIGI,
APPRESSO ANTONIO BAIO,
l'anno 1585.
A Translation with Introduction and Notes by Paulo Eugene Memmo, Jr., 1964
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CONTENTS
* Argument of the Nolan
* The Apology of the Nolan
* First Part
o First Dialogue
o Second Dialogue
o Third Dialogue
o Fourth Dialogue
o Fifth Dialogue
* Second Part
o First Dialogue
o Second Dialogue
o Third Dialogue
o Fourth Dialogue
o Fifth Dialogue
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ARGUMENT OF THE NOLAN
UPON
THE HEROIC FRENZIES
Dedicated to the Most Illustrious Sir Philip Sidney
Most illustrious knight, it is indeed a base, ugly and contaminated wit that is constantly occupied and curiously obsessed with the beauty of a female body! What spectacle, oh good God, more vile and ignoble can be presented to a mind of clear sensibilities than a rational man afflicted, tormented, gloomy, melancholic, who becomes now hot, now cold and trembling, now pale, now flushed, now confused, or now resolute; one who spends most of his time and the choice fruits of his life letting fall drop by drop the elixir of his brain by putting into conceits and in writing, and sealing on public monuments those continual tortures, dire torments, those persuasive speeches, those laborious complaints and most bitter labours inevitable beneath the tyranny of an unworthy, witless, stupid and odoriferous foulness!
What a tragicomedy! What act, I say, more worthy of pity and laughter can
be presented to us upon this world's stage, in this scene of our
consciousness, than of this host of individuals who became melancholy,
meditative, unflinching, firm, faithful, lovers, devotees, admirers and
slaves of a thing without trustworthiness, a thing deprived of all
constancy, destitute of any talent, vacant of any merit, without
acknowledgment or any gratitude, as incapable of sensibility, intelligence
or goodness, as a statue or image painted on a wall; a thing containing
more haughtiness, arrogance, insolence, contumely, anger, scorn, hypocrisy,
licentiousness, avarice, ingratitude and other ruinous vices, more poisons
and instruments of death than could have issued from the box of Pandora?
For such are the poisons which have only too commodious an abode in the
brain of that monster! Here we have written down on paper, enclosed in
books, placed before the eyes and sounded in the ear a noise, an uproar, a
blast of symbols, of emblems, of mottoes, of epistles, of sonnets, of
epigrams, of prolific notes, of excessive sweat, of life consumed, shrieks
which deafen the stars, laments which reverberate in the caves of hell,
tortures which affect living souls with stupor, sighs which make the gods
swoon with compassion, and all this for those eyes, for those cheeks, for
that breast, for that whiteness, for that vermilion, for that speech, for
those teeth, for those lips, that hair, that dress, that robe, that glove,
that slipper, that shoe, that reserve, that little smile, that wryness,
that window-widow, that eclipsed sun, that scourge, that disgust, that
stink, that tomb, that latrine, that menstruum, that carrion, that quartan
ague, that excessive injury and distortion of nature, which with surface
appearance, a shadow, a phantasm, a dream, a Circean enchantment put to the
service of generation, deceives us as a species of beauty.
This is a beauty which comes and goes, is born and does, blooms and decays;
and is eternally beautiful for so very short a moment and within itself
truly and lastingly contains a cargo, a store-house, an emporium, a market
of all the filth, toxins and poisons which our step-mother nature is able
to produce; who having collected that seed of which she makes use, often
recompenses us by a stench, by repentance, by melancholy, by languor, by a
pain in the head, by a sense of undoing, by many other calamities which are
evident to everyone, so that one suffers bitterly, where formerly he
suffered only a little.
But what am I doing? What am I thinking? Do I perhaps despise the sun? Do I
regret perhaps my own and others having come into this world? Do I perhaps
wish to restrict men from gathering the sweetest fruit which the garden of
our earthly paradise can produce? Am I perhaps for impeding nature's holy
institution? Must I attempt to withdraw myself or any other from the
beloved sweet yoke which divine providence has placed about our necks? Have
I perhaps to persuade myself and others that our predecessors were born for
us, but that we were not born for our descendents? No, may God not desire
that this thought should ever come into my head! In fact, I add, that for
all the kingdoms and beatitudes which might ever be proposed or chosen for
me, never was I so wise and good that there could come to me the desire to
castrate myself or to become a eunuch. In fact I should be ashamed,
whatever may be my appearance, if I should desire ever to be second to any
one who worthily breaks bread in the service of nature and the blessed God.
And that such participation can be of assistance to one's good intentions I
leave for the consideration of him who can judge for himself. But I do not
believe I am caught. For I am certain that all the snares and nooses which
those people devise and have devised who specialize in knotting snares and
entanglements will never suffice for my enemies to ensnare and entangle me.
They would avail themselves (if I dare say it) of death itself, in order to
do me mischief. Nor do I believe myself to be frigid, for I do not think
that the snows of Mt. Caucusus or Ripheus would suffice to cool my passion.
See then if it is reason or some insufficiency which makes me speak.
What then do I mean? What conclusion do I wish to arrive at? What do I wish
to decide? What I would conclude and say, oh illustrious knight, is that
what belongs to Caesar be rendered unto Caesar and what belongs to God be
rendered unto God. I mean that although there are cases when not even
divine honors and adoration suffice for women, yet this does not mean that
we owe them divine honors and worship. I desire that women should be
honored and loved as women ought to be loved and honored. Loved and honored
for such cause, I say, and for so much, and in the measure due for the
little they are, at that time and occasion when they show the natural
virtue peculiar to them. That natural virtue is the beauty, the splendor,
and the humility without which one would esteem them to have been born in
this world more vainly than a poisonous fungous occupying the earth to the
detriment of better plants, more odious than any snake or viper which lifts
its head from the dust. I mean that everything in the universe, in order
that it have stability and constancy, has its own weight, number, order and
measure, so that it may be ordered and governed with all justice and
reason. Therefore Silenus, Bacchus, Pomona, Vertunnus, the god of Lampsacus
and similar gods of the drinking hall, gods of strong beer, and humble
wine, do not sit in heaven to drink nectar and taste ambrosia at the
banquet of Jove, Saturn, Pallus, Phoebus and similar gods; and their
vestments, temples, sacrifices and rites must differ from those of the
great gods.
Finally, I mean that these heroic frenzies have a heroic subject and
object, and therefore can no more be esteemed as vulgar and physical loves
than one can see dolphins in the trees of the forests or savage bears under
the rocks of the sea.
However, to deliver all from such suspicion, I thought at first of giving
this book a title similar to the book of Solomon which under the guise of
lovers and ordinary passions contains similarly divine and heroic frenzies,
as the mystics and cabbalistic doctors interpret; I wished, in fact, to
call it Canticle. But in the end I restrained myself for many reasons, of
which I shall report but two. One for the fear which I conceived of the
austere frown of certain Pharisees, who would judge me profane for usurping
sacred and supernatural titles in my natural and physical discourse, while
they, consummate scoundrels, and ministers of every ribaldry, usurp more
basely than one can say the names of holy ones, of saints, of divine
preachers, of the sons of God, of priests, of kings. But then we await that
divine judgment which will make manifest their malicious ignorance and
doctrines; our simple liberty and their malicious rules, censures and
institutions. The other for the great dissimilarity which is seen between
the appearance of this work and that one, even though the same mystery and
psychic substance is concealed under the shadow of the one and the other;
for no one doubts that the first idea of the Sage was to represent things
divine rather than to present other things; with him the figure is openly
and manifestly a figure, and the metaphorical sense is understood in such a
way that it cannot be denied to be metaphorical, when you hear of those
eyes of doves, that neck like a tower, that tongue of milk, that fragrance
of incense, those teeth that seem a flock of sheep returning from the bath,
those tresses that resemble goats descending the mountain of Galaad. But
this poem does not show us a face which so keenly invites one to seek a
latent and occult sense; so that through the ordinary mode of speech and by
similitudes more adapted to the sentiments which gentle lovers usually
employ, and experienced poets put in verse and rime, sentiments are
expressed similar to those used by the poets who spoke of Cythereida, or
Licoris, or Doris or Cynthia, Lesbia, Corynna, Laura and other such ladies.
Thus anyone could be easily persuaded that my primary and fundamental
intention may have been to express an ordinary love, which may have
dictated certain conceits to me, and afterwards, because it had been
rejected, may have borrowed wings for itself and become heroic; for it is
possible to convert any fable, romance, dream and prophetic enigma, and to
employ it by virtue of metaphor and allegorical disguise in such a way as
to signify all that pleases him who is skillful at tugging at the sense,
and is thus adept at making everything of everything, to follow the word of
the profound Anaxagoras. But think who will as it seems to him and pleases
him, in the end, willy nilly, if one is to be just, each must understand
and define it as I understand and define it, and not I as he would
understand it and depict it; for just as the passions of that Hebrew have
their own proper modes, succession and names, which no one has been able to
understand and could never explain better than he, if he were present, so
these canticles of mine have their own names, succession and modes which no
one can explain better and understand than myself, since I am not absent.
Of one thing I wish the world to be assured: what I have essayed in this
preliminary preface, wherein I address you in particular, excellent sir,
and in the dialogues formed upon the subsequent articles, sonnets and
stanzas, is to have everyone know that I should deem myself most shameful
and bestial, if with much thought, study and labor I should have ever
delighted or relished imitating (as they say) an Orpheus who adores a
living woman, and proposes after her death (if it be possible) to rescue
her from hell; when in fact I would hardly esteem her (without blushing) to
be worthy of being loved naturally even in that instant when her beauty is
in flower and when she has the power of bringing offspring to nature and to
God: so much the less would I desire to appear similar to certain poets and
versifiers who glory in a perpetual perseverance in such love, as in such a
pertinacious madness, which can certainly compete with all the other
species of folly that can reside in a human brain. So much, I say, am I
removed from that most vain, most vile and most infamous glory, that I
cannot believe any man who possesses a grain of sense and spirit can expend
any more love on such a thing than I have spent in the past and intend to
spend in the present. And, by my faith, if I wish to employ myself in
defending the nobility of that Tuscan poet, who showed himself so
distraught on the banks of the Sorgue for a lady of Valclusa, and not say
that he was a madman fit to be chained, I shall have to believe and force
myself to persuade others, that for lack of genius apt for higher things he
set himself the task of nourishing his melancholy, and belaboring his wit
in confusion, by analyzing the effects of an obstinate vulgar love, animal
and bestial, as so many others have done who formerly have sung the praises
of a fly, a beetle, an ass, of Silenus, of Priapus, of apes, and those who
have in our time sung the praises of urinals, of the shepherd's pipe, of
beans, of the bed, of lies, of dishonor, of the furnace, of the knife, of
famine, and of the plague, things which perhaps give the appearance of
being no less lofty and proud by reason of the celebrated voices of those
who sing of them than these and other ladies I have mentioned are, perhaps
by reason of the poets who have celebrated them.
Yet (that there be no mistake) I do not wish that here should be taxed the
dignity of those ladies who have been worthily praised and who are
praiseworthy: and those, especially, who may and do reside in this British
land, to whom we owe the love and fidelity of the guest; for even if one
were to find fault with the whole worold, one could not find fault with
this nation, which in this respect is not the terrestrial world, nor a part
of it, but is entirely separated from it, as you know: so that any
discourse regarding the whole feminine sex could not and would not include
any of your women, who must not be considered part of that sex; because
they are not women, they are not ladies, but, in the guise of ladies, they
are nymphs, goddesses and of celestial substance, among whom it is
permitted to contemplate that unique Dianba, whom I do not desire to name
in the rank or category of women. [Queen Elizabeth] Let it be understood,
then, that I mean only the ordinary genus. And I should unworthily and
unjustly persecute any individual of this class: because to no particular
person ought the weakness and condition of the sex be imputed, just as as
defect or vice of constitution, assuming there is some fault or error
there, must be attributed to the species or to nature, and not in
particular to the individuals of the class. Truly, with respect to that
sex, what I abominate is that zealous and disordered venereal love which
some are accustomed to expend for it, so that they come to the point of
making their wit the slave of woman, and of degrading the noblest powers
and actions of the intellectual soul. If my intentions are understood, far
from being saddened and becoming vexed with me because of my natural and
truthful discourse, every honest and chaste woman will rather agree with me
and love me the more because of it; and they will allow that the venereal
love women have for men is a dishonorable thing, as I actively reprove the
venereal love men have for women. Therefore, with a determined heart, mind,
opinion and purpose, I affirm that my first and principal, secondary and
subordinate, final and ultimate design in this work to which I have been
called, was and is to signify divine contemplation and present the eye and
ear with other frenzies, not those caused by vulgar love, but those caused
by heroic love. These frenzies will be explained in two parts, each of
which will be divided into five dialogues.
The argument of the five dialogues of the first part
In the first dialogue of the first part there are five articles, [9]
whence, in order: in the first is shown the causes and principal intrinsic
motives under the names and figures of the mountain, and the river, and of
the muses which declare themselves present, not because they have been
summoned, invoked, and searched for, but rather as if they had often
importunately offered themselves. By this is signified that the divine
light is ever present, that it forever offers itself, ever calls and knocks
at the doors of our senses and other powers of cognition and apprehension,
as it is indicated in the Song of Solomon where it is said, "En ipse stat
post parietem nostrum, respicinse per cancellos et prospiciens per
fenestras", [Cant. 2:9: "Behold He standeth behind our wall, looking
through the windows, looking through the lattices..."] which light very
often through various occasions and impediments remains excluded and
withheld. In the second article is shown what are those subjects, objects,
affections, instruments, and effects by which this divine light enters,
shows itself, and takes possession of the soul, in order to raise it and
convert it unto God. In the third, the intention, definition, and
determination which the well-informed soul makes with regard to the one,
perfect and ultimate end. In the fourth, the civil war which follows and
breakis out against the spirit after such determination, whence the
Canticle says, "Noli mirare, quia nigra sum: decoloravit enim me sol, quia
fratres mei pugnaverunt contra me, quam posuerunt custodem in vineis".
[Cant. 1:5: "Do not consider me that I am brown, for the sun has altered my
color: for my brothers have fought against me, whom they have made the
keeper in the vineyards..."] In that place are represented as four standard
bearers the affection, the fatal impulse, an appearance of the good, and
the conscience, which are followed by the numberless cohorts of the many,
contrary, varied and diverse powers, together with their ministers,
intermediaries, and organs which exist in this organization. In the fifth
is described a natural contemplation through which it is shown that every
contrary is reduced to friendship, whether through the victory of one of
the contraries, or through harmony and conciliation, or by some
vicissitude, every discord to concord, every diversity to unity; which
doctrine has been developed by us in the discourses of other dialogues.
In the second dialogue is more explicitly described the order and action of
the conflict which is in the substance of this complex of the frenzied one,
to wit: in the first article are shown three sorts of contraries. The first
is the conflict of two opposed affections or acts, as for example where
hopes are cold and desires hot. The second treats of the same desires and
acts in themselves, not only that different times, but at the same time,
when each one, for instance, dissatisfied with himself, looks to another,
and at the same time loves and hates. The third is between the power that
follows and aspires and the object which flees and eludes it. In the second
article is described the opposition which results from two impulses which
are opposed in general, to which are related all the particular and
subordinate contraries, for example, when one climbs or descends toward two
opposite places or goals at the same time. Thus it happens to the complex
being by reason of the diversity of the inclinations which are in his
several parts and the variety of dispositions which result from these, that
he rises men and falls at the same time, goes forward and backward,
withdraws himself from himself and also withdraws into himself. The third
article discusses the consequence of such oppositions.
In the third dialogue is disclosed how much power belongs to the will in
this combat, for to the will alone pertains the organizing, the initiating,
the execution and completion; for it is the will the Canticle addresses
when it says, "Arise, hasten, my dove, and come: for already winter is
passed, the rain is gone, the flowers have appeared in our land; the time
of pruning is come." (Cant. 2:10-12) It is the will that in any ways
bestows power to the other potencies; and bestows power especially to
itself, when it reflects upon itself and increases itself two-fold, when it
wishes to desire, and is pleased with what it desires; it withdraws itself,
on the contrary, when it dislikes the object of its desire, and is
displeased to desire it. Thus everywhere and in everything it approves what
is good and what the justice of natural law prescribes for it, and never
approves at all what deviates from that law. And this is how much the first
and second article explain. In the third article is seen the double fruit
of a similar power. Accordingly, as the result of the passion which draws
and ravishes them, lofty things become base, and base things become lofty.
Thus it is customary to say that by the force of vicissitude and
vertiginous attraction, the element of fear is condensed into air, vapor
and water, while water is refined into vapor, air, and fire.
In the seven sections of the fourth dialogue are contemplated the impetus
and vigor of the intellect which carries the affection away without it; the
development of the thoughts into which the frenzied lover is divided, and
the sufferings of the soul under the government of this so turbulent
republic. There it becomes clear who the hunter is, the birdcatcher, the
wild beast, the dogs, offspring, the cave, the noose, the rock, the prey,
the issue of so many labors, peace, rest, and the desired end of so
laborious a conflict.
Into the fifth dialogue is further described the state of the frenzied one
and is shown the order, condition and reason for his labors and fortunes.
In the first article is shown what pertains to the pursuit of the object
which withdraws itself; in the the second is shown the continuous and
relentless competition of the passions; in the third the lofty and cold,
because vain purposes; in the fourth the voluntary desire; in the fifth the
prompt rescue and powerful bulwark. In the following articles are shown in
their variety, according to their reasons and appropriateness, the
vicissitudes of his fortune, condition, and labors, each article expressing
them by antitheses, comparisons, and similitudes.
Argument of the five dialogs of the second part
In the first dialogue of the second part is offered the origin of the modes
and reasons for the state of the frenzied lover. In the first sonnet is
described his state beneath the wheel of time; in the second is described
the defense he offers for his esteem of ignoble occupations and for the
unworthy squandering of time which is so brief and narrowly measured; in
the third he confesses the impotence of his studies, which, although
illumined within by the excellence of their object, begin to obscure and
cloud that object when they come in contact with it; in the fourth he
complains of the profitless strain of the faculties of the soul as his soul
seeks to rise with powers unequal to the state it desires and venerates; in
the fifth is recalled the contrariety and familiar conflict found in him, a
conflict which may hinder him from applying himself entirely to his end or
goal. In the sixth is expressed the aspiration of desire; in the seventh is
considered the poor correspondence found between him who aspires, and that
to which he aspires; in the eighth is seen the distraction the soul suffers
because of the conflict between external and internal things, internal
things among themselves, and a similar conflict of external things among
themselves; in the ninth is explained the age and the time in the course of
life most propitious for the act of lofty and profound contemplation, a
time when the soul is not disturbed by the ebb and flow of its vegetative
constitution, but finds itself in a state of immobility and in a sort of
tranquility; in the tenth is described the order and matter in which heroic
love sometimes attacks, wounds, and awakens us; in the eleventh is
explained the multitude of species and particular ideas which show the
excellence of the mark of their unique source and are the means by which
the desire toward the heavenly is aroused; in the twelfth is expressed the
state of every human effort toward the divine enterprises. Much is presumed
before one engages himself in them, and much during the engagement itself.
But, then, when one is engulfed and penetrates more and more into the
depths, this fervent spirit becomes extinguished by presumption, the nerves
begin to yield, the strength is slackened, thoughts discouraged, all
intentions vanish, and the soul remains confused, vanquished and reduced to
nothing. Pertinently, therefore, was it said by the Sage, "he that is a
searcher of majesty shall be overwhelmed by glory" (Prov. 25:27). In the
last article is more clearly expressed what the twelfth demonstrated by
similitude and figure.
In the second dialogue, in a sonnet and in the dialogue which is a
commentary upon it, is made specific the first cause which subdued the
strong one, softened the hard one, and reduced him to an amorous servitude
under the command of Cupid, but in that way raised and disposed him to
celebrate his zeal, ardor, election, and purpose.
In the third dialogue in four questions and four answers of the heart to
the eyes and the eyes to the heart is explained the being and mode of the
appetitive and cognitive faculties. In this dialogue is shown how the will
is reawakened from sleep, given direction, urged and led by the cognition;
and reciprocally how the cognition is aroused, formed, and revived by the
will, the one proceeding from the other, alternately. It is doubted if the
intellect or the cognitive power in general, or even the act of cognition
is greater than the will or appetitive power in general, or even greater
than the affection. If one cannot love more than one can understand, and if
everything which in a certain mode is desired, in a certain mode is also
understood, and the reverse also be true; then it is fitting to call the
appetite cognition. For we see that the doctrine of the Peripatetics, which
has raised and nourished us from our youth, goes so far as to call the
appetite in potency and natural act cognition, so that they distinguish all
effects, means and ends, principles, causes and elements into those
primarily, intermediately, and ultimately known according to nature, in
which, they conclude, the appetite and the cognition concur. Thus is
proposed the infinite potency of matter, and the assistance of the act
thanks to which that potency is not in vain. For just as the act of the
will is infinite with respect to the good, so is the act of cognition
infinite and endless with respect to the true: accordingly, being, truth,
and goodness take on the same significance when they are referred to in the
same way, that is: as infinite goals.
In the fourth dialogue are represented and in some manner explained the
nine reasons for the ineptitude, disproportion, and deficiency of the human
sight and apprehensive potency toward things divine. The first lover, who
is blind from birth, is blind because of the nature which debases and
humiliation him. The second lover, blinded by the poison of jealousy, is
blind because of the irascible and concupiscible which diverts and misleads
him. The third, blinded by the sudden appearance of intense light, is blind
because of the brilliance of the object which dazzles him. The fourth,
received and nourished for a long time in the light of the sun, is blind
because of much lofty contemplation of the unity which removes him from the
multitude. The fifth, whose eyes are forever filled with dense tears, is
blind owing to the disproportion of means between the potency and the
object which impedes him. The sixth, who through much weeping has
extinguished the organic visual humour, is blind because of a lack of the
true intellectual nourishment, a lack which weakens him. The seventh whose
eyes are reduced to ashes by the ardor of his heart, symbolizes the burning
passion which disperses, weakens, and sometimes devours the power of
discernment. The eighth, blinded by the wound of an arrow's point, is blind
through the very act of union with the form of the object that conquers,
alters, and seduces the apprehensive potency, which is oppressed by the
weight of the form and falls under the impetus of its presence; therefore,
not without reason is the appearance of this object sometimes represented
in the form of a penetrating thunderbolt. The ninth, because he is mute and
is unable to explain the cause of his blindness, is blind for the highest
reason, the secret design of God, who has given man this zeal and
solicitude to search, so that he may never be able to reach higher than to
the knowledge of his own blindness and ignorance, and no higher than to
deem silence more worthy than speech. But this does not suggest that common
ignorance is to be excused or favored, for he is doubly blind who does not
see his own blindness. And there is a difference between the profitably
zealous and the stupidly idle. The stupidly idle are buried in the lethargy
of the incapability of judging their own blindness, and the profitably
zealous are aware, awakened, and prudent judges of their own blindness, and
for that reason are in quest and of the threshold of the attainment of the
light from which the others are banished for a long time.
Argument and Allegory of the Fifth Dialogue
In the fifth dialogue two women are introduced, for whom (according to my
country's custom) it is unbecoming to comment, expound, decipher, or to be
so wise and learned as to usurp the office of teaching and giving men
institutions, rules, and doctrines, but for whom it is fitting, when their
bodies are found to have a soul, to divine well and to prophecy. Therefore
the author has been content to make them merely recite the allegory,
leaving to some male intelligence the care and labor of interpreting it.
And even to him (in order to lighten his task, or I should say, discharge
him of it), I shall explain how these nine blind men, by reason of their
role, of the external causes of their blindness and of many other
subjective differences, take on significance other than the nine of the
preceding dialogue. According to the common imagination of the nine
celestial spheres these blind men symbolize the number, order, and
diversity of all things which are subsistent within an absolute unity, and
in and over all of them are ordered those intelligences which, by a certain
analogy, depend upon the first and the unique intelligence. The Cabalists,
Chaldeans, Magi, the Platonists and Christian theologians hold that these
intelligences are distinct in nine orders through the perfection of the
number which governs the universality of things and in a certain way
informs everything. They also hold that it is by a simple number that the
divinity is symbolized, whose extension and square represents the number
and substance of all things which depend upon it. All the more illustrious
thinkers, whether philosophers or theologians, who speak either by reason
and their own light, or by faith and a superior light, recognized in these
intelligences the cycles of ascent and decent. Thus the Platonists say that
by a certain revolution it happens that those who are above the fatality of
time and change submit themselves once again to this fatality, while others
rise and take their place. A similar revolution is alluded to by the
Pythagorean poet, when he says:
All these, where the wheel of a thousand years comes round, a god
summons to the river Lethe in vast train, so that they may begin
again to desire the return to the body. (Virgil Aeneid vi.
748-751)
Some say that thus are to be understood the words of Revelation in which it
is said that the dragon shall be conquered by chains for a thousand years,
and after that period released. To this interpretation adhere those who
speculate upon the many passages of Revelation which express the millenium
literally, represent it by a year, by a season, by one night, or by one
span time or another. Beyond a doubt the millenium itself is not to be
taken according to the revolutions called solar years, but according to
more than one method of calculating the order and measure upon which the
fate of things depends. For the years of the stars are as different as are
their particular species. As for the fact of revolution, it is given out
among the Christian theologians that from each of the nine orders of
spirits, a multitude of legions were cast down to low and obscure regions;
and so that those seats do not remain vacant, divine Providence wishes the
spirits who now live in human bodies to be drawn up to that eminence. But
among the philosophers Plotinus alone, to my knowledge, has seen fit to
agree with all the great theologians that such a revolution does not
concern all beings, nor take place at all times, but takes place only once.
And among the theologians only Origen, following all the great
philosophers, has dared to say, after the Saducees and other reproved
sects, that the revolution is vicissitudinal and yet eternal, and that all
those who ascend must decend to the bottom; as one can see in all the
elements, and in all the things which exist on the surface, in the bosom
and womb of nature. For my part, I confess and confirm as very appropriate
the opinion of the theologians and those whose task it is to give laws and
institutions to the people; just as I do not fail to affirm and except the
opinion of those who, speaking according to natural reason, address
themselves to the small number of the good and wise. The latter opinion has
been justifiably reproved for having been exposed to the eyes of the
multitude, for since it is only with great difficulty that they can be
restrained from vices and spurred to virtuous action by belief in eternal
punishment, what would happen were they persuaded of some lighter condition
for the reward of heroic and human deeds, and the punishment of crimes and
villainies? But to conclude this progression of mine, I say that now begins
an explanation and discourse upon the blindness and the light of these nine
men, first clairvoyant, then blind, and finally illumined. At first they
are rivals in the shadows and vestiges of the divine beauty; then they are
completely blind, and finally they enjoy themselves peacefully in the more
open light. While they are in the first condition, they are led to the
dwelling of Circe, who represents the generative matter of all things. She
is called the daughter of the sun, because from the father of forms she has
inherited the possession of all those forms which, by a sprinkling of the
waters -- that is to say by the act of generation and by the power of
enchantment -- that is by reason of a secret harmony -- she transforms all
beings, making those who see become blind. For generation and corruption
are causes of oblivion and of blindness, as the ancients explain by the
figure of souls who bathe and inebriate themselves in the waters of Lethe.
Then by that which the blind men lament, when they say, Daughter and mother
of darkness and horror, is signified the dismay and sadness of the soul
which has lost its wings, but will be relieved when it regains hope of
recovering them. By Circe's words, Take another one of my fatal vases, is
signified that men carry with themselves the decree and destiny of a new
metamorphoses, which is, however, said to be offered to them by Circe
herself; for although one contrary has its origin in the other, it may not
be efficaciously uncovered by them. For that reason she said that although
her own hand was unable to open it, it could entrust the vase to them. The
other meaning is that there are two kinds of water. There are the inferior
waters under the firmament which enlighten. These are the waters which the
Pythagoreans and the Platonists symbolized by the descent from one tropic
and the ascent to another. Then by her words, Traverse the width and depth
of the world, seek out all the many kingdoms, is signify that there is no
immediate progress from one contrary form to another, nor immediate
regression to the first form, but that it is necessary to traverse, of not
all, at least a very great number of the forms contained in the wheel of
natural species. Then will they be enlightened by the sight of the object
in which concur the three perfections, beauty, wisdom, and truth, revealed
through the sprinkling of the waters, called in the sacred books the waters
of wisdom and the rivers of eternal life. These waters are not found on the
mainland of the globe, but separated entirely from the earth, in the bosom
of the Ocean, of the Amphitrite, of the divinity, where that river rises
which takes its source from the divine throne, whose flow is not at all
like the ordinary flow of natural rivers. In that river are the nymphs, who
are the blessed and divine intelligences which assist and administer to the
first intelligence, similar to Diana among the nymphs of the wilderness.
She alone among all the others has by her triple virtue the power to open
every seal, untie every knot, uncover every secret and bring to light
whatever is hidden. By her unique presence, by her double splendor of
goodness and truth, benevolence and beauty, she pleases all wills and
intellects, sprinkling them with the salutary waters of purgition. Then
there follows a long chant and song by the nine intelligences, the nine
muses, whose chorus is ordered according to the number of the nine spheres,
so that the harmony of each one is continued by the harmony of the
following one. And that there may be no vacuum interposed among them, the
end of one song coincides with the beginning of the other, and the end of
the last song concurs with the beginning of the first, as the circle is
closed. For the most brilliant and the most obscure, the beginning and the
end, the greatest light and the most profound darkness, infinite potency
and infinite act coincide, as our method of argument has explained
elsewhere.
Finally one observes the harmony and concert of all the spheres,
intelligences and muses in a concert of instruments, so that the heaven,
the movement of worlds, the works of nature, the discourse of intellects,
the contemplation of the mind, the decree of divine Providence celebrate in
complete accord that lofty and magnificent vicissitude which raises the
inferior to the superior waters, changes night into day, and day into
night, so that the divinity may be in all, according to the mode in which
the infinite goodness is infinitely communicated according to the entire
capacity of each thing.
These are the discourses, then, which it seems to me cannot be conveniently
addressed and recommended to anyone than to you, excellent Sir. For I would
not risk doing again what I think at times I have done inadvertently, and
what many others ordinarily do who present a lyre to a deaf man and a
mirror to a blind one. To you then these discourses are presented without
fear, because here the Italian reasons with one who understands him. My
verses are submitted to the censure and the protection of a poet. My
philosophy stands naked before so pure an intellect as yours. Heroic things
are addressed to the heroic and generous spirit with which you are endowed.
My services are offered to one who knows how to accept them graciously, and
my homage to a gentleman who has ever shown myself worthy of such. And in
that which particularly concerns me, I know that through your good services
you have guided me with a magnanimity far greater than any recognition you
may have given to others who may have since come to you. Farewell.
The Apology of the Nolan
To the most glorious and virtuous ladies
Oh glorious and enchanting nymphs of England,
my spirit neither shuns nor disdains you, nor dishonors
you when it deprives you of the traditional name of women,
by neither counting you among them nor excluding you.
I am sure the name of goddesses are more meet for you,
because you are endowed with more than common life,
and are upon the earth what the stars are in heaven.
Oh, Ladies mine, your sovereign beauty my sincerity
can never harm, nor does it wish to do so, because it
cannot reach your superhuman kind,
but by bitter torment, it aspires to that place
where Diana is queen above all, who is among you
what the sun is amid the stars.
Labor and art humbly offer you by invention, my
words and the strokes of my pen such as they may be.
Shelf mark: 017.634
Title: Giordano Bruno's The Heroic Frenzies
A translation with introduction and notes
by Paul Eugene Memmo, Jr.
University of North Carolina
Studies in the Romance Languages and Literatures
No 50
CHAPEL HILL
The University of North Carolina Press
Printed in Spain, 1964
First Dialogue
INTERLOCUTORS
Tansillo Cicada
Tansillo: The frenzies, then, most worthy of being placed in the first rank
and considered first are those I present to you in the order that has
seemed to me most convenient.
Cicada: Begin to read them then.
Tansillo:
Muses, whom I have so often rejected, importunate cohorts of my
suffering, alone consoling me in my woes by such verses, rimes,
and frenzies
the like of which you never showed to others who boast of the
myrtle and the laurel; now let the wind, anchor, and port keep me
close to you, if I am forbidden to cruise elsewhere.
Oh mountains, oh goddesses, oh streams, where I live, converse,
and nourish myself; where I learn in quiet and find beauty;
through whom I rise, reawaken, adorn my heart, spirit, and brow;
maybe you transform death, cypresses and infernos into fire, into
laurels, into eternal stars.
One may infer that he rejected the muses often and for many reasons, among
which perhaps are these. First, because he was not able to be idle, as the
priest of the muses must be; for one cannot be idle who must defend himself
against the ministers and servants of envy, ignorance, and malice. Second,
because he had received no assistance from worthy protectors and defenders,
who might have given him security. As it is said by the poet:
Oh Flaccus, there will be no want for Maros, if there is no lack
of Maecenae.
Another reason was that he regarded himself obligated to devote himself to
the contemplation and philosophical studies, which if not more advanced in
maturity, ought none the less, as mothers to the Muses, to come before
them. Moreover, because the tragic Melpomene drew him on the one hand with
more matter than talent, and the comic Thalia drew him on the other hand
with more talent than matter, it happened that as one took from the other,
he stood between the two weak and idle, rather than doubly active. Besides,
he had become a victim of the authority of the censors, who, turning him
from the more worthy and noble things to which he was naturally inclined,
shackled his intellect, in order to enslave him beneath the rule of a most
vile and senseless hypocrisy, from the freedom he had under the rule of
virtue. But finally, because of the great heat of annoyance into which he
fell, it happened that having nothing else from which to draw consolation,
he accepted the call of those who are said to have inspired him with
certain frenzies, verses, and rimes, the like of which they never shared
with anyone else. It is for that reason that this work sparkles with
originality more than with imitation.
C. Tell me, what is meant by those who praise themselves by means of the
myrtle and the laurel?
T. Those who can and do win praise for themselves by the myrtle are those
who sing of love. If these bear themselves nobly, they win the crown of
that plant concecrated to Venus who inspires them with her frenzy. Those
who can praise themselves by the laurel are those who sing worthily of
heroic things, who instruct heroic souls through speculative and moral
philosophy, or who celebrate those heroic souls and present them as
exemplary mirrors of political and civil action.
C. Are there still other species, then, of poets and awards?
T. There are not only as many as there are Muses, but a great many more
besides. For, although one can distinguish certain sorts of poets and
awards, one would not know how to define certain modes and species of human
genius.
C. I know certain makers of poetic rules who accept with difficulty Homer
as a poet, and who reject Virgil, Ovid, Martial, Hesiod, Lucretius, and
many other versifiers, after having examined them according to the rules of
Aristotle's Poetics.
T. You can be sure, my friend, that these are veritable blockheads, for
they do not considered that those rules serve chiefly to make clear the
nature of the poetry of Homer, or the nature of some other particular poet.
They do not consider that those rules are there only to show us the kind of
epic poet Homer was, and not to serve as modes of instruction to other
poets who could in other veins, skills, and frenzies be in their several
kinds equal, similar, or even greater than Homer.
C. If I understand you correctly, then, Homer in his genre was not a poet
who depended upon rules, but he is the cause of the rules which serve
others who are more adept at imitating than inventing. And these rules were
drawn up by an author who was not a poet of any sort, but who knew how to
assemble rules of that particular kind (that is, rules of Homeric poetry)
for the benefit of one who would wish to be not another poet with a muse of
his own, but an imitator of Homer and the ape of Homer's muse.
T. You conclude well that poetry is not born of the rules, except by the
merest chance, but that the rules derived from the poetry. For that reason
there are as many genres and species of true rules as there are of true
poets.
C. How will the true poets, then, be recognized?
T. By our singing their verses, and by this, that when they are sung,
either they will be delightful, or they will be useful, or they will be
useful and delightful at the same time.
C. Whom then to the rules of Aristotle serve?
T. Those who cannot, as Homer, Hesiod, Orpheus, and others could, be a poet
without the aid of Aristotle. And they serve him who, not having a muse of
his own, prefers to court the muse of Homer.
C. Then certain dismal pedants of our own day are wrong, who exclude some
from the rank of poets because they do not conform their speech and
metaphors or the introductions of their books and songs to those of Homer
or Virgil, or because they do not observe the traditional use of the
invocation, or because they entwine one story with another, or end their
songs with summaries of what has been said already, and with announcements
of what is to come; and because of other reasons drawn from a thousand
methods of examination, of censures and rules in virtue of that text.
Therefore it appears that they themselves would be the true poets (should
they so decide), and would easily attain the end toward which the others
tend only with effort. But, if the truth were known, these pedants are
nothing but worms, who do not know how to do anything well, as are born
only to gnaw, soil, and hurl their dung upon the studies and labors of
others; and being incapable of becoming illustrious through their own
talent virtue and talent, they seek to advance themselves through the vices
and errors of others.
T. Now to return to the point from which passion has led us to digress to
some extent, I say that there are and can be so many kinds of sen