Version classiqueVersion mobile

L’Imaginaire-Melville

 | 
Viola Sachs

Melville’s Encantadas: Harmony or False Note?

Janine Dove-Rumé

Résumé

Les Iles Enchantées, calcinées et inhabitées, sont doubles : trompeuses et mystificatrices, elles sont aussi porteuses d’un univers caché d’initiation et de rédemption. Elles sont à l’image de la tortue, animal cosmophore à deux facettes dont elles portent le nom (Galapagos) ; mais aussi à celle de l’écriture melvillienne qui, en camouflant le vrai et en exposant le faux, fait de ces îles réelles un monde imaginaire, et de la ligne imaginaire qu’est l’Equateur une ligne matérielle et réelle.

La description de Rock Rodondo d’une part, et des îles de Narborough et d’Albemarle d’autre part, est révélatrice des intentions de l’auteur. Le lecteur est convié à grimper au sommet de Rodondo pour observer les deux îles en question. Rodondo est comparé à Pisgah, le mont d’où Moïse vit la Terre Promise, et à Saint-Pierre de Rome. Il est lié au monde des illusions et est l’objet d’hallucinations de la part des marins. Les poissons et les oiseaux qui le peuplent incarnent la pyramide hiérarchique de nos pouvoirs et de nos institutions et symbolisent l’évolution de notre civilisation qui, au fur et à mesure de son développement, s’est écartée de l’intégralité originelle et d’une écriture primordiale globalisante. Toutes les strates de Rodondo sont parsemées de l’oiseau nommé « pétrel », dérivé de Pierre et caractérisé par l’absence de brillant et de lumière.

En face de ce point d’observation très connoté qu’est Rodondo, l’on peut voir les Iles Naborough/Albemarle qui symbolisent implicitement la Terre Promise. Elles forment une lettre E qui pointe vers le sud, écriture inversée que l’auteur place à l’abri du Temps et qu’il lie à son identité et à son écriture. Alors que les Iles Enchantées sont dites condamnées à ne jamais évoluer, ces deux îles sont décrites en termes alchimiques et deviennent par là-même pleines de promesses de transmutations possibles.

La tortue, homonyme des Iles Galapagos, comparée au forgeron et à la métallurgie elle aussi, est à l’image de l’écriture melvillienne : elle cache sous la partie visible de sa carapace, de couleur noire, l’or invisible, et elle véhicule l’écriture du feu primordial, celle de la mémoire et celle aussi qui substitue la vie à la mort.

Texte intégral

1“The Encantadas, or Enchanted Isles”, the fifth of Melville’s The Piazza Tales (1856), was first published in Putnam’s Monthly Magazine in March 1854. It is the description of the Galapagos which Melville briefly visited in the early 1840’s. While the title indirectly hints at a possible translinguistic game which Melville was so fond of, it literally brings to mind enchantment and singing.

  • 1 All quotations refer to Herman Melville, “The Encantadas, or Enchanted Isles”, in The Piazza Tales (...)
  • 2 For the symbolic and philosophical implications of image and representation, and for a discussion o (...)

2Yet the isles are repeatedly described as “clinkers” (e.g., p. 139; p. 166)1, the word being even the last one used in the tale. The word clink also means error and false note in music: two meanings that will serve my purpose. The islands are situated on the “real genuine Equator” (p. 139) as if there existed two Equators. The fact that Cowley gave his name to one of the isles suggests to Melville “the possibility that it conveyed to him some meditative image of himself” (p. 142), another reference to the double, and this time, to identity as well. The allusion to image, hence to reflection, is all the more important as the islands form “vitrified masses” (p. 127) with their “vitreous... rocks" (p. 129)2. Reflection in a mirror is linked not only to identity but to writing as well since two of the islands, Albemarle and Narborough, have the shape of a capital letter E. All editions printed the letter with its three limbs pointing south, which ran counter to the text: “Albemarle opens his mouth towards the setting sun” (p. 140), i.e., West. Such discrepancy is so glaring that the 1987 Northwestern-Newberry edition emended it to fit Melville’s description claiming that “Melville... himself cannot have intended the letter to be in that position" (p. 609n). I should be tempted to believe that we are faced here with a typically Melvillean error, or clink. Melville never corrected the downturned E. Why did he not? Could it be because a downturned capital E looks like a small m, Melville’s signature by his own initial of the error or clink in question?

  • 3 In the sketch which precedes, we are told that beyond Abington Isle, “Adam and his billions of post (...)
  • 4 See editorial note, p. 611.
  • 5 Idem., p. 611.
  • 6 Cf. Jean Chevalier and Alain Gheerbrant, Dictionnaire des symboles, (Paris: Robert Laffont, 1969), (...)

3The letter e is the fifth of the alphabet. Taken in a translinguistic context, the English e phonetically corresponds to the French i, and letter I in English is also the first person singular connoting identity. « Sketch Fifth » bears the only mention of “I" in the epigraphs to the ten sketches3. More surprising still, in the sketch that follows, Melville emended an existing “I” into a “we”4 as though there were a will to make the mention of “I” in “Sketch Fifth” unique. The sketch is entitled “The Frigate, and Ship Flyaway” and it is about an “enchanted ship” (p. 143) and about “salvation" (p. 143), reminding one of the old legend of the Flying Dutchman, revived in Melville’s time by Wagner’s opera produced in 1843, a legend about the quest of eternal fidelity and the wreck of that ideal which turns out to be only a phantom. The Dutchman was allowed to attempt his salvation once every seven years, which links seven to redemption. The Putnam edition of the tale “numbered no sketch as seventh, and numbered as ‘eight’, ‘ninth’, ‘tenth’, and ‘eleventh’ the sketches respectively renumbered [by subsequent editions] as ‘seventh’, ‘eight’, ‘ninth’, and ‘tenth’”5. Seen in the light of the opera’s legend, the obliteration of seven hints at the rejection by Melville of all hope of redemption; it erases any reference to the seven notes of the diatonic gamut as well. In “Sketch Seventh”, erroneously numbered eight, is the explicit mention of the “promised land” (p. 147) which also seems discarded as a consequence. Is there a conscious rejection of seven insofar as it symbolizes the completion of the universe, the plenitude of time and the perfection of man?6.

  • 7 Idem., p. 292.
  • 8 Idem., p. 564.

4The tale is made up of ten sketches, but since the seventh was skipped, one can consider the last sketch to be the eleventh and not the tenth. Eleven can also be read as double one. The play between 11 and 10 is echoed in the statistical table in “Sketch Fourth » where Melville provides us with what he terms “round numbers” (p. 140), i.e., “500,000” (p. 140), repeated twice, and “10,000,000” (p. 140; 10 = double 5) making up a “clean total” (p. 140) of “11,000,000" (p. 140), which takes us back to eleven. If ten symbolizes the Pythagorean tetrakys (four) and universal creation7, closely related in that sense to the symbolism of seven mentioned earlier, eleven, on the other hand, symbolizes a deterioration of ten, a split in the universe8. There perhaps lies the deeper meaning of “The Encantadas”, those “split Syrian gourds” (p. 126) “cracked by an everlasting drought” (p. 126) with their “fissures of calcined rock” (p. 127) and their “dark clefts” (p. 127).

  • 9 This refers to an ideal form of writing that rejects all opposition to drawing and painting. The th (...)
  • 10 In ch. 104, "The Fossil Whale”, in Moby-Dick; or, The Whale, geology and writing are blended.

5Layer upon layer of images, numbers and drawings describe Melville’s Encantadas written in ten sketches, a word which refers to drawing and painting rather than to writing9, but which, in all cases, points to something unfinished. The self-identification of Melville as a “geologist” (p. 132)10 points to his concern not only with the visible part of the Encantadas compared with “the world at large” (p. 126), but also to the hidden layers and strata, the “Plutonian” (p. 127) stratum, the “Tartarus” (p. 127) stratum. Both “Plutonian” and “Tartarus” refer to the underworld, one which is related to tortoises. Indeed, the word tortoise has the same root as the French word tortue, itself derived from the Latin tartareus meaning from Tartarus or infernal. Besides, in “Sketch Second” devoted to tortoises, Melville writes that they “seemed newly crawled forth from beneath the foundations of the world” (p. 131). He goes on to relate how, like “an antiquary of a geologist” (p. 132), he proceeded to the examination of the “half-obliterate” (p. 132) scars of tortoises, which he compares to “studying bird-tracks and cipher? (p. 132). The word “obliterate” links tortoises to letter ( “obliterate” > L. ob + litera = letter) while “ciphers” link them to numbers. Taking into account that tortoises (in Spanish, galapagos) having given “the group its second Spanish name, Gallipagos” (p. 128), fully identify with the Encantadas, it can be inferred that, similarly to his study of tortoises, Melville’s study of the islands will also be made in terms of “bird-tracks”, letters and “ciphers”.

6As already stressed, “Sketch Seventh" (numbered 8) contains the explicit mention of the “promised land” (p. 147). That fictitious 8 is the double of 4: it is precisely in “Sketch Fourth” that the letter E, with its four limbs is viewed from the Rock. The sketch is entitled “A Pisgah View from the Rock” and Pisgah is the mountain whence Moses viewed the Promised Land. The epigraph to the sketch is extracted from Spenser’s Fairie Queene, which invests Melville’s “promised land” (p. 147) with illusion and deception. So much for the view. As for the point of view (see fig. I below), Rock Rodondo, it is, when seen from afar, “mistaken for a sail” (p. 134), for an “enchanted frigate” (p. 134), another allusion to the Flying Dutchman. Both the view and point of view are therefore linked to a dream world of delusions.

7The point of view, also named the "Rock of vile Reproach” (p. 133; Melville’s italics), is a “remarkable rock” (p. 133) compared to the “Campanile or detached Bell Tower of St. Mark" (p. 134), thus establishing a link with the son or disciple of Peter who built his church upon a rock.

8Melville elaborates the description of the Rock in layers and strata. On the one hand, three layers of life-forms inhabiting firstly, the immersed part of the Rock; secondly, the visible part; and thirdly, the aerial part. On the other hand, ten strata of birds living on the visible part of the Rock. The seventh sketch having been skipped, as already stressed, illusively brought the total number of sketches constituting the tale to eleven instead of the actual ten. The question is to know whether this signifies an intentional refusal, on Melville’s part, of ten insofar as this figure symbolizes the perfection of universal creation. Is that a device intentionally used to show that creation is imperfect? Our analysis of the ten strata of birds on Rock Rodondo might shed some light on the matter.

9But let us first deal with the immersed, invisible part of Rock Rodondo, situated “Below the water-line” (p. 136), a phrase which hints at a separation between two worlds by a line formed by the sea. Melville later describes the same sea as “unscrolling itself’ (p. 137) to reveal, by inference, a written text. The fish living under the line are referred to as the “counterparts” (p. 136) of the birds above, an ambiguous word since counter means double, identical as well as opposite. Are the fish identical or opposite to the birds, themselves identified with men? Their description as “fairy fish” (p. 136) suggests a connection with the female principle and a dream world. They dwell in “labyrinthine lurking places” (p. 136) and “grottoes”, which relates the immersed part of Rodondo to a hidden centre and to the pre-historic, pre-cultural era of mankind: a magic world of “hues... as yet unpainted, and figures which are unengraved’ (p. 136), a magic world of colours, forms and numbers ( “figures”) which does not include writing as a form of expression.

10Architectonic metaphors describe the Rock. Its “stair-like base” (p. 134) looks like the “steps of a water-palace” (p. 134) and its “tower” rises in “entablatures of strata” (p. 134). The ten species of birds perched on it are compared to “Philistines” (p. 135), a people not conversant with the arts and culture. According to our author, Rock Rodondo is the best place to study “Natural History” (p. 135).

11Going up from the water-line is the first bird, the penguin, with pen, an allusion to writing inscribed in its name. Compared to homo erectus ( “Erect as men” p. 135)), it symbolizes the first shape emerging from water, still “grotesquely misshapen” (p. 135). Unclassifiable in the animal kingdom, it possesses “rudimental claims” to “all three elements”, but “the penguin is at home with none” (p. 135). Does that suggest that the penguin is at home, with the missing element, that is, fire? Melville’s comparison of the isles with “heaps of cinders” (p. 126), makes the inference likely. The word “rudimental”, pointing to something unfinished, undeveloped or imperfectly begun is full of meaning in this context of creation. Penguins are also compared to “sculptures” thereby implying civilization, and are called “caryatides” (p. 135). The Greek word Karuatis from which caryatide is derived means priestess, which links the penguin to the female principle and to pagan civilization.

12One stratum up stands the pelican, representative of the army, of institutionalized religion and of law, such phrases as “regiments”, “rank and file”, “Friars of Orders Gray”, “penitential bird” (p. 135) describing it The black and white of the penguin here blend into grey ( “Gray”) and an “ashy plumage" (p. 135). Plumage of course means the feathers of the bird, but it also contains the French word plume, equivalent to the English feather, but which also refers to the quill, i.e., the writing instrument made from the hollow stem of a feather. Fire, so ambiguously evoked in the description of the penguin i.e., writing, is, here with the pelican, reduced to cinders.

  • 11 The colour grey distinguishes the grey albatross from its species. Yet alb, the Latin word for whit (...)

13Grey also depicts the third bird, the “gray albatross” (p. 135). A marked opposition distinguishes him from his "snow-white... storied kinsman” (p. 135), the white albatross11. Not “storied” itself, that is, not written, the “gray albatross” stands for “nature’s anomaly” (p. 135). Described as “unpoetic” (p. 135), it seems opposed to writing and civilization.

14At this point of the narrative, Melville stops describing the birds individually, but simply enumerates them:

As we still ascend from shelf to shelf, we find the tenants of the tower serially disposed in order of their magnitude: – gannets, black and speckled haglets, jays, sea-hens, sperm-whale-birds, gulls of all varieties: – thrones, princedoms, powers, dominating one above another in senatorial array, (p. 135)

15The group of six birds completes what looks like the hierarchical pyramid of powers, with, in ascending order: kingdoms, princedoms and powers of all sorts leading up to democracy and a republic as the word “senatorial” suggests.

16Sprinkled all over the tower of powers stands the tenth and last species of birds, “the stormy Petrel or Mother Cary’s chicken” (pp. 135-36), another allusion to St Peter who gave his name to the bird, and to the two sexes ( “Mother”). But the Petrel “has no brilliancy of hue”, no light. It rather sounds like a “death-tick” (p. 136) and conveys a “dreary spell" (p. 136) to mariners. Spell, besides its obvious meaning, also evokes language, and “dreary” etymologically means gore: this is what crowns the tower of our civilization!

17Rock Rodondo, the “Rock of vile Reproach" (p. 133; Melville’s italics), is an “enchanted frigate” with “glittering canvas” (p. 134). But all that glitters is not gold: “canvas” comes from the Latin cannabis which is a hallucinogen. Illusion, delusion is the Rock and its ten species of birds which create a “dissonant din” with their “ear-splitting cries” (p. 136).

  • 12 Cf. Chevalier, Gheerbrant, op. cit., p. 67.
  • 13 Chant, or singing contained in the very name of the Enchanted Isles, is the symbol of the primordia (...)
  • 14 Jean-Pierre Vernant, Mythe et pensée chez les Grecs (Paris: Maspéro, 1971).

18Up in the air, dissociated from the Rock, an eleventh species appears, whose “musical invocation” (p. 136) clashes with the dissonant din below. A “snow-whit? angelic thing with one long lance-like “feather” (p. 136), it, too, relates to the writing tool ( “feather”). That bird emits “silver bugle-like notes”. Silver relates to the symbolic cluster, moon/water/female principle, as well as to divine wisdom12, while its identification with “chanticleer”, a cock, evokes the male principle. Being both “bright” and “inspiriting” (p. 136), that sea chanticleer restores to the Encantadas the vindication of their name: enchantment, chant13. The bugle (< L. bugulus, from bos = ox) brings music back into play. In Greek mythology, Hermes who stole Apollo’s oxen, was forgiven by offering the latter the musical instrument that he invented, the lyre, made from the skin and nerves of an ox stretched on a tortoise’s shell, with seven strings attached to it14. Is that eleventh bird, through its link with the seven strings a substitute for the obliterated “Sketch Seventh” and its “promised land" (p. 147)?

  • 15 I. Newberry makes the point that Melville circumscribes the islands in three concentric circles wit (...)

19Such is Melville’s unrewarding Rock from which he views, with his reader, that other Promised Land, the one not explicitly described as such, and which was yet viewed from Pisgah. That implicit Promised Land, as already seen, is the letter E, the fifth letter of the alphabet, linked through the number of the sketch to four and to the figure of the square. Any ship wishing to penetrate the square has to take an “circuitous” (p. 139) route. Could that be an allusion to the circling of the square, i.e., the reversed process of the squaring of the circle15? It must be borne in mind that it is from the circular Rock Rodondo (meaning round) that the author is viewing the square. Is Melville’s Promised Land – linked to writing (E) and his own identitiy (m) – impossible to attain?

20The description of the letter E formed by the isles of Albemarle and Narborough reads as follows:

Volcanic Narborough lies in the black jaws of Albemarle like a wolf’s red tongue in its open mouth, (p. 140)

  • 16 The three main phases of alchemical transmutation are, sequentially, Work in Black (Nigredo), Work (...)
  • 17 See C. C. Jung, Psychologie et alchimie (Paris: Buchet/Chastel, 1970), p. 433 and J. P. Clebert, Be (...)
  • 18 Cf. Gilbert Durand, Les Structures anthropologiques de l’imaginaire (Paris: Bordas, 1969), p. 92.

21The two isles combined symbolize the colours corresponding to the three main phases of alchemical transmutation16: white (inscribed in Albemarle through alb, the Latin word for white), black and red. The tongue refers to the word, to speech; in alchemical lore, the wolf symbolizes cyclic regeneration; it represents the prima materia since it attacks lead until perfection is reached17. It devours Time18, and this is highly significant considering that the mouth contains Melville’s leviathanic writing since leviathans are said to be caught “very neatly in a pen” (p. 140) in Lee Bay. The leviathanic writing thus appears to be not only sheltered from the wind but from Time as well.

  • 19 Cf. Chevalier, Gheerbrant, op. cit., p. 248.
  • 20 Cf. Clebert, op. cit., p. 420.
  • 21 Cf. editorial note, p. 607.
  • 22 For Philippe Jaworski, the abstraction of death is replaced by the fire alphabet of life; cf. Melvi (...)
  • 23 For the relation between blacksmiths and alchemists, see Mircea Eliade, Forgerons et alchimistes (P (...)

22The Equator cuts Albemarle’s northern part exactly “as a knife cuts straight through the centre of a pumpkin pie” (p. 139), a metaphor which connects the island, and with it the letter E, to the tortoise, itself compared to a “great October pumpkin" (p. 130). A symbol of spiritual regeneration and initiation, the pumpkin evokes gold19. October’s link with eight in the Roman calendar, makes it the double of four while in our calendar, it figures as the tenth month (double 5). Like the letter E, it seems to be also linked to four and five, and its relation with the two calendars connects it to two different times. Now, just as a pie cut by the Equator suggests the destruction of the circle, the tortoise looks like a sphere cut into two, a shape which accounts for its being the symbol of a mediator between heaven and earth20. In Hindu mythology, explicitly mentioned in the text in relation to that reptile, the tortoise bears the world on its shoulders. To Melville, the animal offers the hope that “the isles are not perhaps unmitigated gloom” (p. 130). Just like the calcinated letter E which conceals an alchemical laboratory, with the subsequent promise of obtaining gold, the tortoise, black “as it is upon its back... still possesses a bright side” (p. 130) since its calapee is of a “faint golden tinge" (p. 130), i.e., nigredo on the back, gold hidden underneath. Melville issues the warning that neither the black nor the gold should be overlooked. The tortoise’s black shell, compared to “one inky blot” (p. 130), carries an allusion to writing. In the very first sketch, Melville tells about an “optical delusion” (p. 129) that he had and in which he saw a tortoise with “Memento **** burning in live letters upon his back” (p. 129), thus connecting memory and writing to fire and life. Is that an allusion to that first form of writing related to fire and to the emergence of life discussed above in the context of the penguin? In Melville’s original text, Memento was followed by five asterisks, emended in the Northwestern and Newberry edition to four, on the grounds that they stood for Mori, which means death21. Yet, this emendation discards the possibility that Melville could have intentionally replaced death by a five, linked to the letter E and to his identity as a writer22. Is not the “dateless” (p. 131) tortoise which resists the “assaults of Time” (p. 131) with its live letters upon its back, like the universe it bears, the symbol of a writer who wishes to bind his writing to Eternity, to that first form of writing hidden and lost under layers upon layers of an illusive civilization, hidden down there in the underworld to which the tortoise belongs? Tortoises have been able to save primordial writing and keep it in its pristine form, because they are known for their “straightforwardness in a belittered world” (p. 132; there might even be an intentional pun on litter and letter), ramming themselves “heroically against rocks” (p. 132) against the rock of our civilization, “century upon century, writhing through the shades, grim as blacksmiths” (p. 132), or alchemists rather23. Their calapees are used as “salvers” (p. 133), a word etymologically linked to salvation.

23The “black and bright” (p. 132) tortoise of the underworld unites with the white and bright “‘Boatswain’s Mate’” (the stormy Petrel) that hovers over the Rock to form the lyre that gives the Encantadas their musical harmony back. Is not the cloud of snow-white birds of heaven the dot that marks the tower of Rodondo to form the letter i (see fig. 2), Melville’s identity as a man, that faces the letter E, Melville’s hidden identity as a writer?

Notes

1 All quotations refer to Herman Melville, “The Encantadas, or Enchanted Isles”, in The Piazza Tales (Evanston and Chicago: Northwestern University Press and the Newberry Library, 1987). Unless otherwise indicated, italics are mine.

2 For the symbolic and philosophical implications of image and representation, and for a discussion of Platonic theories on the subject, see M. H. Abrams, The Mirror and the Lamp: Romantic Theory and the Critical Tradition (London: Oxford University Press, 1979), and more particularly, chapter 2 entitled “Imitation and the Mirror", pp. 30-46. For further criticism of Platonic theories on the mirror and the image, see also Eugen Finck, Le Jeu comme symbole du monde (Paris: Editions de Minuit, 1966), pp. 89-101.

3 In the sketch which precedes, we are told that beyond Abington Isle, “Adam and his billions of posterity remain uncreated” (p. 141). Could that letter I, which appears for the first time in the epigraph to “Sketch Fifth”, be an allusion to the creation of man, or of a new man?

4 See editorial note, p. 611.

5 Idem., p. 611.

6 Cf. Jean Chevalier and Alain Gheerbrant, Dictionnaire des symboles, (Paris: Robert Laffont, 1969), pp. 686-91.

7 Idem., p. 292.

8 Idem., p. 564.

9 This refers to an ideal form of writing that rejects all opposition to drawing and painting. The theme is also developed by Hawthorne in The Scarlet Letter; cf. my article “Hawthorne l’alchimiste et son Grand’Oeuvre, The Scarlet Letter", in Social Science Information, 30, 1 (1991), particularly pp. 175-76.

10 In ch. 104, "The Fossil Whale”, in Moby-Dick; or, The Whale, geology and writing are blended.

11 The colour grey distinguishes the grey albatross from its species. Yet alb, the Latin word for white is inscribed in albatross. For Melville’s play on that glyph in Moby-Dick; or, The Whale cf. Dominique Marçais’s article « Les Jeux sur le blanc et le noir chez Melville » in Figures, cahiers n° 6 et 7 du Centre de Recherche sur l’Image, le Symbole, le Mythe, Dijon, 1990-91

12 Cf. Chevalier, Gheerbrant, op. cit., p. 67.

13 Chant, or singing contained in the very name of the Enchanted Isles, is the symbol of the primordial principle. It is the word, or primordial breath that relates the creative principle to its creation: cf. Chevalier, Gheerbrant, op. cit., p. 171.

14 Jean-Pierre Vernant, Mythe et pensée chez les Grecs (Paris: Maspéro, 1971).

15 I. Newberry makes the point that Melville circumscribes the islands in three concentric circles with Narborough constituting the centre; cf. his article entitled “The Encantadas: Melville’s Inferno”, American Literature, XXXVIII, 1 (March 1966).

16 The three main phases of alchemical transmutation are, sequentially, Work in Black (Nigredo), Work in White (Albedo}, Work in Red (Rubedo). See J. Evola, La Tradition hermétique (Paris: Editions Traditionnelles, 1975). Setting out with a different approach, Régis Durand also discerns transformation in those islands despite Melville’s assertion that “to them change never comes” (p. 126); cf. Melville: signes et métaphores (Lausanne: l’Age d’Homme, 1980), pp. 109-11.

17 See C. C. Jung, Psychologie et alchimie (Paris: Buchet/Chastel, 1970), p. 433 and J. P. Clebert, Bestiaire fabuleux (Paris, Albin Michel, 1971), p. 240.

18 Cf. Gilbert Durand, Les Structures anthropologiques de l’imaginaire (Paris: Bordas, 1969), p. 92.

19 Cf. Chevalier, Gheerbrant, op. cit., p. 248.

20 Cf. Clebert, op. cit., p. 420.

21 Cf. editorial note, p. 607.

22 For Philippe Jaworski, the abstraction of death is replaced by the fire alphabet of life; cf. Melville: Le Désert et I’empire (Paris: Presses de l’Ecole Normale Superieure, 1986), p. 314.

23 For the relation between blacksmiths and alchemists, see Mircea Eliade, Forgerons et alchimistes (Paris: Flammarion, 1977).

Table des illustrations

Titre Figure 1
URL http://books.openedition.org/puv/docannexe/image/8193/img-1.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 13k
Titre Figure 2
URL http://books.openedition.org/puv/docannexe/image/8193/img-2.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 45k
Titre Figure 3
URL http://books.openedition.org/puv/docannexe/image/8193/img-3.jpg
Fichier image/jpeg, 12k

© Presses universitaires de Vincennes, 1992

Conditions d’utilisation : http://www.openedition.org/6540

Cette publication numérique est issue d’un traitement automatique par reconnaissance optique de caractères.
Rechercher dans OpenEdition Search

Vous allez être redirigé vers OpenEdition Search