To observe the course of the stars throughout eternity may appear to us
a desperately monotonous occupation, a rather unenviable beatitude. For
the stars, shorn of their divinity, are for us no more than gaseous or
solid bodies circulating in space, and we analyse with the spectroscope
their chemical composition. But the ancients felt otherwise: they
describe with singular eloquence the “cosmic emotion” which seized them
as they contemplated their southern skies—their soul was ravished, borne
on the wings of enthusiasm into the midst of the dazzling gods which
from the earth had been descried throbbing in the radiance of the ether.
These mystic transports were compared by them to Dionysiac intoxication;
an “abstemious drunkenness”[532] raised man to the stars and kindled in
him an impassioned ardour for divine knowledge. And as the exaltation
produced by the vapours of wine gave to the mystics of Bacchus a
foretaste of the joyous inebriation promised to them in the Elysian
banquet, so the ecstasy which uplifted him who contemplated the
celestial gods caused him to feel the happiness of another life while he
was yet here below.[533]
“I know,” says an epigram of Ptolemy himself,[534] “I know that I am
mortal, born for a day, but when I follow the serried crowd of the stars
in their circular course my feet touch the earth no longer: I go to Zeus
himself and sate myself with ambrosia, the food of the gods.”
In the same way the intoxication produced by music, the divine
possession which purified man by detaching him from material cares,
caused him to taste for an instant the felicity which would fill his
whole being when he should harken to the sweet harmony produced by the
rotation of the spheres, the celestial concert which the ears of mortals
are incapable of hearing, as their eyes cannot bear the brilliance of
the sun. Men’s instruments could cause the perception of only a weak
echo of these delightful chords, but they awoke in the soul a passionate
desire for heaven, where the unspeakable joy produced by the cosmic
symphony would be felt.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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