Eco: Foucalt's Pendulum

by eco umberto foucault

  You were there, among the usual faces, and beside you was the man with the scar. You weren't the least embarrassed. You looked at me with complicity and¡Xhow do you manage both at the same time?¡X defiance, as if to say: So what? The intruder with the scar looked me up and down, as if I, not he, were the intruder. The others, in on the story, waited. I should have found an excuse to pick a fight. I'd have come out of it well, even if he hit me. Everybody knew you were there with him to provoke me. My role was assigned. One way or the other, I was to put on a show.

  Since there had to be a show, I chose drawing-room comedy. I joined the conversation, amiable, hoping someone would admire my control.

  The only one who admired me was me.

  You're a coward when you feel you're a coward.

  The masked avenger. As Clark Kent I take care of misunderstood young geniuses; as Superman I punish justly misunderstood old geniuses. I collaborate in the exploitation of those who, lacking my courage, have been unable to confine themselves to the role of spectator.

  Is this possible? To spend a life punishing people who will never know they have been punished? So you wanted to be a Homer, eh? Take that, wretch, and that!

  I hate anyone who tries to see me as an illusion of passion.

  41

  When it is recalled that Daath is situated at the point where the abyss bisects the Middle Pillar, and that up the Middle Pillar lies the Path of the Arrow, the way by which consciousness goes when the psychic rises on the planes, and that here also is Kundalini, we see that in Daath is the secret of both generation and regeneration, the key to the manifestation of all things through the differentiation into pairs of Opposites and their union in a Third.

  ¡XDion Fortune, The Mystical Qabalah, London, Fraternity ofthe Inner Light, 1957, 7.19

  In any case I wasn't supposed to concern myself with Manutius; my job was the wonderful adventure of metals. I began by exploring the Milan libraries. I started with textbooks, made a bibliography on file cards, and from there I went back to the original sources, old or new, looking for decent pictures. There's nothing worse than illustrating a chapter on space travel with a photograph of the latest American satellite. Signer Garamond had taught me that it needs, at the very least, an angel by Dore.

  I reaped a harvest of curjous reproductions, but they weren't enough. To choose the right picture for an illustrated book, you have to reject at least ten others.

  I got permission to go to Paris for four days. Not much time to visit all the archives. Lia came with me. We arrived Thursday and had return reservations for the Monday-evening train, and I scheduled the Conservatoire for Monday, a mistake, because I found out the Conservatoire was closed Mondays. Too late. I left Paris crestfallen.

  Belbo was vexed, but I had collected plenty of interesting things, and we went to show them to Signer Garamond. He leafed through the reproductions, many of them in color, then looked at the bill and let out a whistle. "My dear friend," he said, "our work is a mission, true, we toil in the fields of culture, ca va sans dire, but we're not the Red Cross¡Xmore, we're not UNICEF. Was it necessary to buy all this material? I mean, I see here a mustachioed gentleman in his underwear who looks like d'Artagnan, surrounded by abracadabras and capricorns. Who is he? Mandrake?"

  "Primitive medicine. Influence of the zodiac on the different parts of the body, with the corresponding curative herbs. And minerals, including metals. The doctrine of the cosmic signatures. Those were times when the boundary between magic and science was rather ill-defined."

  "Interesting. But what does this title page mean? Philosophia Moysaica. What's Moses got to do with it? Isn't that being a little too primitive?"

  "It's the dispute over unguentum armarium, otherwise known as weapon salve. Illustrious physicians spent fifty years arguing whether this salve could heal wounds by being smeared on the weapon that had dealt the blow.''

  "Incredible. And that's science?"

  "Not in today's sense of the word. But they considered this seriously, because they had just discovered the marvels of the magnet, the magic possibility of action at a distance...These men were wrong, but later, Volta and Marconi were not. What are electricity and radio if not action at a distance?"

  "Well, well. Bravo, Casaubon. Science and magic going arm in arm, eh? Great idea. Let's pursue this. Throw out some of those revolting generators and put in a few more Mandrakes. Perhaps a summoning of the Devil, say, on a gold background."

  "I wouldn't want to go too far. This is the wonderful adventure of metals. Oddities work only when they're to the point."

  "The wonderful adventure of metals must be, most of all, the story of science's mistakes. Stick in the catchy oddity, and in the caption say it's wrong. In the meantime, the reader's hooked, because he sees that even the greats had crazy ideas, just like him."

  I told them about a strange thing I had seen in Paris, a bookshop near quai Saint-Michel. Its symmetrical windows advertised its own schizophrenia: on one side, books on computers and the electronics of the future; on the other, occult sciences. And it was the same inside: Apple and cabala.

  "Unbelievable," Belbo said.

  "Obvious," Diotallevi said. "Or, at least, you're the last person who should be surprised, Jacopo. The world of machines seeking to rediscover the secret of creation: letters and numbers."

  Garamond said nothing. He had clasped his hands as if in prayer, and his eyes were turned heavenward. Then he smacked his hands together. "What you've said today confirms an idea of mine. For a while now IVe...But all in good time; it needs more thought. Meanwhile, carry on. You've done well, Casaubon. We must look at your contract again; you're a valuable colleague. And, yes, put in plenty of cabala and computers. Computers are made with silicon, aren't they?"

  "But silicon isn't a metal. It's a nonmetallic element."

  "Metallic, nonmetallic, why split hairs? What is this, Rosa rosarum? Computers and cabala."

  "Cabala isn't a metal either," I said.

  He accompanied us to the door. At the threshold he said: "Casaubon, publishing is an art, not a science. Let's not think like revolutionaries, eh? Those days are past. Put in the cabala. Oh, yes, about your expenses: I've taken the liberty of disallowing the couchette. Not to be stingy, believe me. It's just that research requires¡Xhow shall I put it?¡Xa Spartan spirit. Otherwise you lose your faith."

  He summoned us again a few days later, telling Belbo there was a visitor in his office he wanted us to meet.

  We went. Garamond was entertaining a fat gentleman with a face like a tapir's, no chin, a little blond mustache beneath a large, animal nose. I thought I recognized him; then I knew who it was: Professor Bramanti, the man I had gone to hear in Rio, the referendary or whatever of that Rosicrucian order.

  "Professor Bramanti," Garamond said, "believes this is the right moment for a smart publisher, alert to the cultural climate of the time, to inaugurate a line of books on the occult sciences."

  "For...Manutius," Belbo suggested.

  "Why, naturally." Signor Garamond smiled shrewdly. "Professor Bramanti¡Xwho, by the way, was recommended to me by my dear friend Dr. De Amicis, the author of that splendid volume Chronicles of the Zodiac, which we brought out this year-has been lamenting the fact that the few works published on his subject¡Xalmost invariably by frivolous and unreliable houses-fail to do justice to the wealth, the profundity of this field of studies..."

  "Given the failure of the Utopias of the modern world," Bramanti said, "the time is ripe for a reassessment of the culture of the forgotten past."

  "What you say is the sacred truth, Professor. But you must forgive our¡XI don't like to say ignorance¡Xour unfamiliarity with the subject. When you speak of occult sciences, what exactly do you have in mind? Spiritualism, astrology, black magic?"

  Bramanti made a gesture of dismay. "Please! That's just the sort of nonsense that's foisted on the ingenuous. I'm talking about science, occult though it be. Of course, that may include astrology when appropriate, but n
ot the kind that tells a typist that next Sunday she'll meet the man of her dreams. No. What I mean, to give an example, would be a serious study of the de-cans."

  "Yes, I see. Scientific. It's in our line, to be sure; but could you be a little more specific?"

  Bramanti settled into his chair and looked around the room, as if to seek astral inspiration. "I'd be happy to give you some examples, of course. I would say that the ideal reader of a collection of this sort would be a Rosicrucian adept, and therefore an expert in magiam, in necromantiam, in astrologiam, in geo-mantiam, in pyromantiam, in hydromantiam, in chaomantiam, in medicinam adeptam, to quote the book of Azoth, which, as the Raptus philosophorum explains, was given to Staurophorus by a mysterious maiden. But the knowledge of the adept embraces other fields, such as physiognosis, which deals with occult physics, the static, the dynamic, and the kinematic, or astrology and esoteric biology, the study of the spirits of nature, hermetic zoology. I could add cosmognosis, which studies the heavens from the astronomical, cosmological, physiological, and ontological points of view, and anthropognosis, which studies human anatomy, and the sciences of divination, psychurgy, social astrology, hermetic history. Then there is qualitative mathematics, arithmology...But the fundamentals are the cosmography of the invisible, magnetism, auras, fluids, psy-chometry, and clairvoyance, and in general the study of the five hyperphysical senses¡Xnot to mention horoscopic astrology (which, of course, becomes a mere mockery of learning when not conducted with the proper precautions), as well as physiognomies, mind reading, and the predictive arts (tarots, dream books), ranging to the highest levels, such as prophecy and ecstasy. Sufficient information would be required on alchemy, spa-gyrics, telepathy, exorcism, ceremonial and evocatory magic, basic theurgy. As for genuine occultism, I would advise exploration of the fields of early cabala, Brahmanism, gymnosophy, Memphis hieroglyphics¡X"

  "Templar phenomenology," Belbo slipped in.

  Bramanti glowed. "Absolutely. But I almost forgot: first, some idea of necromancy and sorcery among the other races, ono-mancy, prophetic furies, voluntary thaumaturgy, hypnotic suggestion, yoga, somnambulism, mercurial chemistry...For the mystical tendency, Wronski advises bearing in the mind the techniques of the possessed nuns of Loudon, the convulsives of Saint-Mldard, the mystical beverages, the wine of Egypt, the elixir of life, and arsenic water. For the principle of evil¡Xbut I realize mat here we come to the most delicate part of a possible series¡X I would say we need to acquaint the reader with the mysteries of Beelzebub as destruction proper, with Satan as dethroned prince, and with Eurynomius, Moloch, incubi and succubi. For the positive principle, the celestial mysteries of Saint Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, and the agathodemons. Then of course the mysteries of Isis, Mithra, Morpheus, Samothrace, and Eleusis, and the natural mysteries of the male sex, phallus, Wood of Life, Key of Science, Baphomet, mallet, then the natural mysteries of the female sex, Ceres, Cteis, Patera, Cybele, Astarte."

  Signor Garamond leaned forward with an insinuating smile. "I wouldn't overlook the Gnostics..."

  "Certainly not, although on that particular subject a great deal of rubbish is in circulation. In any case, every sound form of occultism is a gnosis."

  "Just what I was going to say," said Garamond.

  "And all this would be enough?" Belbo asked innocently.

  Bramanti puffed out his cheeks, abruptly transforming himself from tapir to hamster. "Enough? To begin with, yes, but not for beginners, if you'll forgive the little joke. But with about fifty volumes you could enthrall an audience of thousands, readers who are only waiting for an authoritative word...With an investment of perhaps a few hundred million lire¡XI've come to you personally, Dr. Garamond, because I know of your willingness to undertake such generous ventures¡Xand with a modest royalty for myself, as editor in chief of the series..."

  Bramanti had now gone too far; Garamond was losing interest. The visitor was dismissed hastily, with expansive promises. The usual committee of advisers would carefully weigh the proposal.

  42

  But you must know that we are all in agreement, whatever we say.

  ¡XTurba Philosopkorum

  After Bramanti had left, Belbo remarked that he should have pulled his cork. Signor Garamond was unfamiliar with this expression, so Belbo attempted a few polite paraphrases, but with little success.

  "Let's not quibble," Garamond said. "Before that gentleman said five words, I knew he wasn't for us. Not him. But the people he was talking about, authors and readers alike¡Xthat's different. Professor Bramanti happened to confirm the very idea I Ve been pondering for some days now. Here, look at this," he said, theatrically taking three books from his drawer.

  "Here are three volumes that have come out in recent years, all of them successful. The first is in English; I haven't read it, but the author is a famous critic. What has he written? The subtitle calls it a gnostic novel. Now look at this: a mystery, a best-seller. And what's it about? A gnostic church near Turin. You gentlemen may know who these Gnostics are..." He paused, waved his hand. "It doesn't matter. They're something demoniacal; that's all I need to know...Yes, maybe I'm being hasty, but I'm not trying to talk like you, I'm trying to talk like Bramanti¡Xthat is, I'm speaking as a publisher, not as a professor of comparative gnoseology or whatever it is. Now, what was it that I found clear, promising, inviting¡Xno, more, intriguing¡X in Bramanti's talk? His extraordinary capacity for tying everything together. He didn't mention Gnostics, but he easily could have, what with geomancy, maalox, and mercurial Radames. And why do I insist on this point? Because here is another book, by a famous journalist, who tells about incredible things that go on in Turin¡XTurin, mind you, the city of the automobile. Sorceresses, black masses, consorting with the Devil¡Xand for paying customers, not for poor crazed peasants in the south. Casaubon, Belbo tells me you were in Brazil and saw the savages down there performing satanic rites...Good, later you can tell me about it, but really, it's all the same. Brazil is right here, gentlemen. The other day I went personally into that bookshop¡X what's it called? Never mind; it doesn't matter¡Xyou know, the place where six or seven years ago they sold anarchist books, books about revolutionaries, Tupamaros, terrorists¡Xno, more, Marxists...Well, the place has been recycled. They stock those things Bramanti was talking about. It's true today we live in an age of confusion. Go into a Catholic bookshop, where there used to be nothing but the catechism, and you find a reassessment of Luther, though at least they won't sell a book that says religion is all a fraud. But in the shops I'm talking about they sell the authors who believe and the authors who say it's all a fraud, provided the subject is¡Xwhat do you call it?"

  "Hermetic," Diotallevi prompted.

  "Yes, I believe that's the right word. I saw at least a dozen books on Hermes. And that's what I want to talk to you about: Project Hermes. A new branch..."

  "The golden branch," Belbo said.

  "Exactly," Garamond said, missing the reference. "It's a gold mine, all right. I realized that these people will gobble up anything that's hermetic, as you put it, anything that says the opposite of what they read in their books at school. I see this also as a cultural duty: I'm no philanthropist, but in these dark times to offer someone a faith, a glimpse into the beyond...Yet Garamond also has a scholarly mission..."

  Belbo stiffened. "I thought you had Manutius in mind."

  "Both. Listen, I rooted around in that shop, then went to another place, a very respectable place, but even it had an occult sciences section. There are university-level studies on these subjects sitting on the shelves alongside books written by people like Bramanti. Think a minute: Bramanti has probably never met any of the university authors, but he's read them, read them as if they were just like him. Whatever you say to such people, they think you're talking about their problem, like the story of the cat, where the couple was arguing about a divorce but the cat thought they were disagreeing about the giblets for its lunch. You must have noticed it, Belbo; you dropped that remark about the T
emplars and he nodded immediately. Sure, the Templars, too, and cabala, and the lottery, and tea leaves. They're omnivorous. Omnivorous. You saw Bramanti's face: a rodent. A huge audience, divided into two categories¡XI can see them lining up now, and they're legion. In primis: the ones who write about it, and Manutius will greet them with open arms. All we have to do to draw them is start a series that gets a little publicity. We could call it...let's see..."

  "The Tabula Smaragdina," Diotallevi said.

  "What? No. Too difficult. It doesn't say anything to me. No. What we want is something that suggests something else..."

  "Isis Unveiled," I said.

  "Isis Unveiled! That's good. Bravo, Casaubon. It has Tutankhamen in it, the scarab of the pyramids. Isis Unveiled, with a slightly black-magical cover, but not overdone. Now let's continue. The second group: those who buy it. I know what you're thinking, my friends: Manutius isn't interested in the buyer. But there's no law to that effect. This time, we'll sell Manutius books. Progress, gentlemen!

  "But there are also the scholarly studies, and that's where Garamond comes in. We'll look through the historical studies and the other university series and find ourselves an expert, a consultant. Then we'll publish three or four books a year. An academic series, with a title that'sxdirect but not too picturesque..."

  "Hermetica," Diotallevi said.

  "Excellent. Classical, dignified. You ask me: Why spend money with Garamond when we can make money with Manutius? But the scholarly series will act as a lure, attracting intelligent people, who will make suggestions and point out new directions. And it will also attract the others, the Professor Bra-mantis, who will be rerouted to Manutius. It seems perfect to me: Project Hermes, a nice, clean, profitable operation that will strengthen the flow of ideas between the two firms...To work, gentlemen. There are libraries to visit, bibliographies to compile, catalogs to request. And find out what's being done in other countries...Who knows how many people have already slipped through our fingers, people bearing treasures, and we dismissed them as worthless. Casaubon, don't forget, in the history of metals, to put in a little alchemy. Gold's a metal, I believe. Hold your comments for later: you know I'm open to criticism, suggestions, objections, as all cultured people are. This project is in effect as of now.