No More Learning

THE EXAMPLE OF SHAKESPEARE
From Shakespeare and his Times'
VOLTA
AIRE was the first person in France who spoke of Shake-
speare's genius; and although he spoke of him merely as a
barbarian genius, the French public were of opinion that
Voltaire had said too much in his favor. Indeed, they thought
it nothing less than profanation to apply the words "genius
and glory" to dramas which they considered as crude as they
<<
(
were coarse.
At the present day, all controversy regarding Shakespeare's
genius and glory has come to an end. No one ventures any
longer to dispute them; but a greater question has arisen,-
namely, whether Shakespeare's dramatic system is not far supe-
rior to that of Voltaire. This question I do not presume to


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6778
FRANÇOIS GUIZOT
decide. I merely say that it is now open for discussion. We
have been led to it by the onward progress of ideas. I shall
endeavor to point out the causes which have brought it about;
but at present I insist merely upon the fact itself, and deduce
from it one simple consequence, that literary criticism has changed
its ground, and can no longer remain restricted to the limits
within which it was formerly confined.
Literature does not escape from the revolutions of the human
mind; it is compelled to follow it in its course, to transport
itself beneath the horizon under which it is conveyed, to gain
elevation and extension with the ideas which occupy its notice,
and to consider the questions which it discusses, under the new
aspects and novel circumstances in which they are placed by the
new state of thought and of society.
When we embrace human destiny in all its aspects, and
human nature in all the conditions of man upon earth, we enter
into possession of an exhaustless treasure. It is the peculiar
advantage of such a system that it escapes, by its extent, from
the dominion of any particular genius. We may discover its prin-
ciples in Shakespeare's works; but he was not fully acquainted
with them, nor did he always respect them. He should serve as
an example, not as a model. Some men, even of superior tal-
ent, have attempted to write plays according to Shakespeare's
taste, without perceiving that they were deficient in one import-
ant qualification for the task; and that was to write as he did,
to write them for our age just as Shakespeare's plays were writ-
ten for the age in which he lived. This is an enterprise the
difficulties of which have hitherto, perhaps, been maturely consid-
ered by no one. We have seen how much art and effort were
employed by Shakespeare to surmount those which are inherent
in his system. They are still greater in our times, and would
unveil themselves much more completely to the spirit of criti-
cism which now accompanies the boldest essays of genius. It is
not only with spectators of more fastidious taste and of more
idle and inattentive imagination, that the poet would have to do
who should venture to follow in Shakespeare's footsteps. He
would be called upon to give movement to personages embar-
rassed in much more complicated interests, preoccupied with
much more various feelings, and subject to less simple habits
of mind and to less decided tendencies. Neither science, nor
reflection, nor the scruples of conscience, nor the uncertainties of


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FRANÇOIS GUIZOT
6779
thought frequently incumber Shakespeare's heroes; doubt is of
little use among them, and the violence of their passions speedily
transfers their belief to the side of their desires, or sets their
actions above their belief. Hamlet alone presents the confused
spectacle of a mind formed by the enlightenment of society, in
conflict with a position contrary to its laws; and he needs a
supernatural apparition to determine him to act, and a fortuitous
event to accomplish his project. If incessantly placed in an anal-
ogous position, the personages of a tragedy conceived at the
present day according to the Romantic system would offer us
the same picture of indecision. Ideas now crowd and intersect
each other in the mind of man, duties multiply in his conscience
and obstacles and bonds around his life. Instead of those elec-
tric brains, prompt to communicate the spark which they have
received; instead of those ardent and simple-minded men, whose
projects like Macbeth's "will to hand," the world now presents
to the poet minds like Hamlet's, deep in the observation of those
inward conflicts which our classical system has derived from a
state of society more advanced than that of the time in which
Shakespeare lived. So many feelings, interests, and ideas, the
necessary consequences of modern civilization, might become.
even in their simplest form of expression a troublesome burden,
which it would be difficult to carry through the rapid evolutions
and bold advances of the Romantic system.
―――
We must however satisfy every demand; success itself requires
it. The reason must be contented at the same time that the im-
agination is occupied. The progress of taste, of enlightenment, of
society, and of mankind, must serve not to diminish or disturb our
enjoyment, but to render them worthy of ourselves and capable
of supplying the new wants which we have contracted. Advance
without rule and art in the Romantic system, and you will pro-
duce melodramas calculated to excite a passing emotion in the
multitude, but in the multitude alone, and for a few days; just as
by dragging along without originality in the Classical system, you
will satisfy only that cold literary class who are acquainted with
nothing in nature which is more important than the interests of
versification, or more imposing than the three unities. This is
not the work of the poet who is called to power and destined for
glory: he acts upon a grander scale, and can address the superior.
intellects as well as the general and simple faculties of all men.
It is doubtless necessary that the crowd should throng to behold


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FRANÇOIS GUIZOT
those dramatic works of which you desire to make a national
spectacle; but do not hope to become national, if you do not
unite in your festivities all those classes of persons and minds
whose well-arranged hierarchy raises a nation to its loftiest dig-
nity. Genius is bound to follow human nature in all its develop-
ments; its strength consists in finding within itself the means for
constantly satisfying the whole of the public. The same task is
now imposed upon government and upon poetry: both should
exist for all, and suffice at once for the wants of the masses and
for the requirements of the most exalted minds.
Doubtless stopped in its course by these conditions, the full
severity of which will only be revealed to the talent that can
comply with them, dramatic art, even in England, where under
the protection of Shakespeare it would have liberty to attempt
anything, scarcely ventures at the present day even to try timidly
to follow him. Meanwhile England, France, and the whole of
Europe demand of the drama pleasures and emotions that can no
longer be supplied by the inanimate representation of a world
that has ceased to exist. The Classical system had its origin
in the life of its time: that time has passed; its image subsists
in brilliant colors in its works, but can no more be reproduced.
Near the monuments of past ages, the monuments of another
age are
now beginning to arise. What will be their form? I
cannot tell; but the ground upon which their foundations may
rest is already perceptible. This ground is not the ground of
Corneille and Racine, nor is it that of Shakespeare; it is our own;
but Shakespeare's system, as it appears to me, may furnish the
plans according to which genius ought now to work. This
system alone includes all those social conditions and all those
general or diverse feelings, the simultaneous conjunction and activ-
ity of which constitute for us at the present day the spectacle
of human things. Witnesses during thirty years of the greatest
revolutions of society, we shall no longer willingly confine the
movement of our mind within the narrow space of some family
event, or the agitations of a purely individual passion. The
nature and destiny of man have appeared to us under their most
striking and their simplest aspect, in all their extent and in all
their variableness. We require pictures in which this spectacle
is reproduced, in which man is displayed in his completeness and
excites our entire sympathy.


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6781
—
ERNST HAECKEL
(1834-)
RNST HAECKEL, the German naturalist, is a scholar who unites
to eminence in scientific research and discovery the gift of
attractive literary presentation. In his own country his
position is that of one who has made valuable original contributions
to the study of morphology and been the ablest exponent of the Dar-
winian theory. His more untechnical writings have a charm, a lit-
erary value, rarely to be found in the work of a specialist in science.
Born in Potsdam, Germany, February 16th, 1834, Haeckel studied
the natural sciences at Berlin, Würzburg,
and Vienna, taking his medical degree in
1858 and practicing that profession a short.
time in the former city. During 1859 and
1860 he made a journey through Italy and
Sicily in the interest of science, his work
on 'The Radiata' (1862) being a result.
Later portions were added in 1887 and 1888.
In 1861 he settled in Jena for the study of
comparative anatomy, but soon turned to
the specific investigation of zoölogy. After
holding subordinate positions, he was ap-
pointed in 1865 full professor at Jena; and
his lectures embraced, besides zoölogy, the
subjects of comparative anatomy, evolution,
histology, and palæontology. His researches had to do especially
with the lower ranks of marine animals, and above all, with deep-sea
life in its simplest forms. The material for such study was gathered
from many and extended experiences in the North Sea, the Mediter-
ranean, the Canary Isles, and the Indian Ocean. These travels and
researches were the basis of works like that On the History of the
Development of the Siphonophora' (1869), and his 'Biological Studies'
(1870). Books of this nature too were introductory to greater repre-
sentative works on natural philosophy and the development theory,
such as Calcareous Sponges (1872), Natural History of Creation'
(1868), which has received the honor of translation into twelve lan-
guages, and the master work 'General Morphology of Organisms'
(1866).

ERNST HAECKEL


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ERNST HAECKEL
More popular writings, making him known to a public much wider
than the biologist ever addresses, are those 'On the Division of
Labor in Nature and Human Life' (1869), On the Origin and Gen-
ealogy of the Human Race (1870), 'Life in the Great Marine Animals'
(1870), The Arabian Corals' (1873), based on studies in the Red Sea,
( The System of the Medusa' (1880), and 'A Visit to Ceylon,' the
latter a work which in English translation has won many admiring
readers.
For the last dozen years or more, Professor Haeckel has given
much of his time to the deep-sea explorations of the H. M. S. Chal-
lenger expedition, and his voluminous reports written in the English
tongue, with accompanying illustrations, contain descriptions of no
less than four thousand new kinds of marine animals. His 'Plankton
Studies (1890) state his general biologic conclusions upon the life
and growth of sea organisms; and his very interesting Monism as
the Link between Religion and Science' constitutes a great naturalist's
confession of faith.
(
A man of many travels and much culture, of immense energy,
learning, and power of original research, Professor Haeckel holds a
dominant position in his own land among the savants of science.
His great work in morphology brought into a systematic philosophy
the brilliant hypothesis of Darwin, whom he was the first German to
defend and expound at a time when the development theory was
looked at askance. And in writings like that from which the selec-
tions are made, he adds æsthetic and human interest to subjects more
often treated after the manner of the arid and technical specialist.
The Ceylon sketches have picturesqueness, color, enthusiasm: they
impart a sense not only of the order, but of the wonder and beauty
of science.
AT PERADENIA
From A Visit to Ceylon'
IN
IN THE central province of Ceylon, and at a height of fifteen hun-
dred feet above the sea, stands the capital, formerly the resi-
dence of the kings of the island, the famous town of Kandy;
and only a few miles away from it is a small town, which was
also for a short time a royal residence five centuries ago. At
this place the English government made a botanical garden in
1819, and Dr. Gardner was the first director. His successor, the
late Dr. Thwaites, the very meritorious compiler of the first 'Flora
Zeylanica,' for thirty years did all he could to improve and carry


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6783
out the purpose of this garden in a manner worthy of its advan-
tages of climate and position. When he retired, a year or two
before his death, Dr. Henry Trimen was appointed director; and
from him, immediately on my arrival, I received a most friendly
invitation. I accepted it all the more gladly, because in Europe
I had already read and heard much of the marvels of plant life
at Peradenia. Nor were my high anticipations disappointed. If
Ceylon is a Paradise for every botanist and lover of flowers, then
Peradenia deserves to be called the very heart of Paradise.
Peradenia and Kandy are connected with Colombo by a rail-
way, the first made in Ceylon; the journey occupying from first to
last between four and five hours. I started from Colombo at seven
in the morning of the 4th of December, and reached Peradenia
at about eleven. Like all Europeans in Ceylon, I found I must
travel in the first-class-not noblesse, but whiteness, oblige. The
second-class is used only by the yellow and tawny burghers and
half-breeds, the descendants of the Portuguese and Dutch; the
third-class of course carries the natives, the dark Cinghalese and
the nearly black Tamils. The only wonder to me is that there is
not a fourth for these last, and a fifth for the despised low-caste
Hindoos. The natives are always great patrons of railway travel-
ing; it is the only pleasure on which they are prepared to spend
money, all the more so as it is a cheap one. Directly after the
railway was opened, the natives began traveling by the wonder-
ful road every day and all day long, for the mere pleasure of it.
The carriages are airy and light; the first-class well provided with
protection against the heat, with wide eaves and Venetian blinds.
The engine-drivers and the guards, in their white clothes with
sola helmets, are Englishmen. The line is worked with order
and punctuality, like all the English railways.
The first two-hours' ride from Colombo to Peradenia lies
across a level country, most of it covered with marshy jungle,
varied by rice fields and water meadows. In these, herds of
black buffaloes lie half in the water, while graceful white herons
pick the insects off their backs; farther on, the line gradually
approaches the hills, and after Rambukana station begins to
work upwards. For an hour, between this and the next station,
Kaduganawa, the line is in point of scenery one of the most
beautiful I have ever seen. The road winds with many zigzags
up the steep northern face of a vast basin or cirque. At first
the eye is fascinated by the changing aspect of the immediate


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ERNST HAECKEL
foreground: immense blocks of gneiss stand up amid the luxu-
riant masses of dense forest which fill the ravines on each side;
creepers of the loveliest species fling themselves from one tree-
top to the next, as they tower above the undergrowth; enchant-
ing little cascades tumble down the cliffs, and close by the
railroad we often come upon the old high-road from Colombo to
Kandy, formerly so busy a scene, which was constructed by the
English government to enable them to keep possession of the
ancient capital.
Further on we command wider views, now of the vast park-like
valley which grows below us as we mount higher, and now of
the lofty blue mountain range which stands up calm and proud
beyond its southern wall. Although the forms of the higher
hills are monotonous and not particularly picturesque, — for the
most part low, undulating shoulders of granite and gneiss,- still
a few more prominent peaks rise conspicuous; as for instance,
the curious table rock known as the "Bible Rock. " "Sensation
Rock," as it is called, is one of the most striking and impressive
features of the scenery. The railway, after passing through sev-
eral tunnels, here runs under overhanging rocks along the very
edge of a cliff, with a fall of from twelve to fourteen hundred
feet, almost perpendicular, into the verdurous abyss below. Dash-
ing waterfalls come foaming down from the mountain wall on
the left, rush under the bridges over which the line is carried,
and throwing themselves with a mighty leap into mid-air, are
lost in mist before they reach the bottom of the gorge, making
floating rainbows where the sun falls upon them.
The green depths below and the valley at our feet are cov-
ered partly with jungle and partly with cultivation; scattered
huts, gardens, and terraced rice fields can be discerned. The
lofty head of the talipot palm, the proud queen of the tribe in
Ceylon, towers above the scrub on every side. Its trunk is
perfectly straight and white, like a slender marble column, and
often more than a hundred feet high. Each of the fans that
compose its crown of leaves covers a semicircle of from twelve
to sixteen feet radius, a surface of one hundred and fifty to two
hundred square feet; and they like every part of the plant have
their uses, particularly for thatching roofs: but they are more
famous because they were formerly used exclusively instead of
paper by the Cinghalese, and even now often serve this purpose.
The ancient Puskola manuscripts in the Buddhist monasteries are


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6785
all written with an iron stylus on this ola paper, made of narrow
strips of talipot leaves boiled and then dried. The proud tali-
pot palm flowers but once in its life, usually between its fiftieth
and eightieth year. The tall pyramidal spike of bloom rises.
immediately above the sheaf of leaves to a height of thirty or
forty feet, and is composed of myriads of small yellowish-white
blossoms; as soon as the nuts are ripe the tree dies. By a
happy accident, an unusual number of talipot palms were in
flower at the time of my visit; I counted sixty between Rambu-
kana and Kaduganawa, and above a hundred in my whole jour-
ney. Excursions are frequently made to this point from Colombo,
to see the strange and magnificent scene.
The railroad, like the old high-road, is at its highest level
above the sea at the Kaduganawa pass, and a lighthouse-shaped
column stands here in memory of the engineer of the carriage
road, Captain Dawson. We here are on the dividing ridge of
two water-sheds. All the hundred little streams which we have
hitherto passed, threading their silver way through the velvet
verdure of the valley, flow either to the Kelany Ganga or to the
Maha-Oya, both reaching the sea on the western coast. The
brooks which tumble from the eastern shoulder of Kaduganawa
all join the Mahavelli Ganga, which flows southward not far
below. This is the largest river in the island, being about one
hundred and thirty-four miles long, and it enters the sea on the
east coast near Trincomalee. The railway runs along its banks,
which are crowded with plantations of sugar-cane, and in a
quarter of an hour from the pass we reach Peradenia, the last
station before Kandy.
The entrance to the garden is through a fine avenue of old
india-rubber trees. This is the same as the Indian species, of
which the milky juice when inspissated becomes caoutchouc, and
of which young plants are frequently grown in sitting-rooms in
our cold Northern climate, for the sake of the bright polished
green of its oval leathery leaves. But while with us these india-
rubber plants are greatly admired when their inch-thick stems
reach the ceiling, and their rare branches bear fifty leaves, more
or less, in the hot moisture of their native land they attain the
size of a noble forest tree, worthy to compare with our oaks. An
enormous crown of thousands of leaves growing on horizontal
boughs, spreading forty to fifty feet on every side, covers a sur-
face as wide as a good-sized mansion, and the base of the trunk
XII-425
•


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ERNST HAECKEL
throws out a circle of roots often from one hundred to two hun-
dred feet in diameter, more than the whole height of the tree.
These very remarkable roots generally consist of twenty or thirty
main roots, thrown out from strongly marked ribs in the lower
part of the trunk, and spreading like huge creeping snakes over
the surface of the soil. The india-rubber tree is indeed called
the "snake-tree" by the natives, and has been compared by
poets to Laocoön entwined by serpents. Very often however the
roots grow up from the ground like strong upright poles, and so
form stout props, enabling the parent tree to defy all storms
unmoved. The spaces between these props form perfect little
rooms or sentry boxes, in which a man can stand upright and be
hidden. These pillar-roots are developed here in many other
gigantic trees of very different families.
I had scarcely exhausted my surprise at this avenue of snake-
trees, when exactly in the middle, beyond the entrance of the
gate, my eye was caught by another wonderful sight. An im-
mense bouquet there greets the visitor-a clump of all the palms
indigenous to the island, together with many foreign members of
this noblest growth of the tropics; all wreathed with flowering
creepers, and their trunks covered with graceful parasitical ferns.
Another but even larger and finer group of palms stood further
on at the end of the entrance avenue, and was moreover sur-
rounded by a splendid parterre of flowering plants. The path
here divided, that to the left leading to the director's bungalow,
situated on a slight rise. This inviting home is like most of the
villa residences in Ceylon, a low one-storied building surrounded
by an airy veranda, with a projecting roof supported on light
white columns. Both pillars and roof are covered with garlands
of the loveliest climbers; large-flowered orchids, fragrant vanilla,
splendid fuchsias, and other brilliant blossoms, and a choice col-
lection of flowering plants and ferns, decorate the beds which.
lie near the house. Above it wave the shadowy boughs of the
finest Indian trees, and numbers of butterflies and chafers, lizards
and birds, animate the beautiful spot. I was especially delighted
with the small barred squirrels, which looked particularly pretty
here, though they are common and very tame in all the gardens
of Ceylon.
As the bungalow stands on the highest point of the gardens,
and a broad velvet lawn slopes down from it, the open hall of the
veranda commands a view of a large portion of the garden, with


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6787
a few of the finest groups, as well as the belt of tall trees which
inclose the planted land. Beyond this park-like ground rise the
wooded heads of the mountains which guard the basin of Pera-
denia. The beautiful Mahavelli River flows round the garden in
a wide reach, and divides it from the hill country. Thus it lies.
in a horseshoe-shaped peninsula; on the landward side, where it
opens into the valley of Kandy, it is effectually protected by a
high and impenetrable thicket of bamboo, mixed with a chevaux-
de-frise of thorny rattan palms and other creepers. The climate
too is extraordinarily favorable to vegetation; at a height of fif-
teen hundred feet above the sea, the tropical heat of the mount-
ain basin, combined with the heavy rainfall on the neighboring
mountains, make of Peradenia an admirable natural forcing-house,
and it can easily be conceived how lavishly the tropical flora here
displays its wonderful productive powers.
My first walk through the garden in the company of the ac-
complished director convinced me that this was in fact the case;
and although I had heard and read much of the charms of the
prodigal vegetation of the tropics, and longed and dreamed of
seeing them, still the actual enjoyment of the fabulous reality far
exceeded my highest expectations, even after I had already made
acquaintance with the more conspicuous forms of this Southern
flora at and near Colombo and Bombay. During the four days I
was so happy as to spend at Peradenia, I made greater strides in
my purview of life and nature in the vegetable world than I
could have made at home by the most diligent study in so many
months. Indeed, when two months later I visited Peradenia for
the second, and alas! for the last time, and spent three more
happy days in that Paradise, it enchanted me to the full as much
when I quitted it as it had at the first glance; only I saw it
with wider understanding and increased knowledge. I cannot
sufficiently thank my excellent friend Dr. Trimen for his kind.
hospitality and valuable instruction; the seven days I spent in his
delightful bungalow were indeed to me seven days of creation.
Translation of Clara Bell.


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ERNST HAECKEL
COLOR AND FORM IN THE CEYLON CORAL BANKS
From A Visit to Ceylon
Ν NINE
INE years since, in 1873, when I made an excursion among
the coral reefs of the Sinai coast, and for the first time
had a glimpse of the wonderful forms of life in their sub-
marine gardens of marvels, they had excited my utmost interest;
and in a popular series of lectures on Arabian corals (published
with five colored plates) I had endeavored to sketch these won-
derful creatures and their communities, with various other ani-
mals. The corals of Ceylon, which I first became acquainted
with here at Galle, and subsequently studied more closely at
Belligam, reminded me vividly of that delightful experience, and
at the same time afforded me a multitude of new ones. For
though the marine fauna of the Indian seas is on the whole
nearly allied to the Arabian fauna of the Red Sea,- many gen-
era and species being common to both,-yet the number and
variety of forms of life is considerably greater in the vast basin
of the Indian Ocean with its diversified coast, than in the pent-
up waters of the Arabian Gulf with its uniform conditions of
existence. Thus I found the general physiognomy of the coral
reefs in the two situations different, in spite of many features
in common. While the reefs at Tur are for the most part conspic-
uous for warm coloring,-yellow, orange, red, and brown, — in
the coral gardens of Ceylon green predominates in a great va-
riety of shades and tones: yellow-green Alcyonia growing with
sea-green Heteropora, and malachite-like Anthophylla side by
side with olive-green Millepora; Madrepora, and Astræa of emer-
ald hue, with brown-green Montipora and Mæandrina.
Ransonnet had already pointed out how singularly and univer-
sally green prevails in the coloring of Ceylon. Not only is the
greater portion of this evergreen isle clothed with an unfading
tapestry of rich verdure, but the animals of the most widely dis-
similar classes which live in its woods are conspicuous for their
green coloring. This is seen in all the commonest birds and
lizards, butterflies, and beetles, which are of every shade of
brilliant green.
In the same way the innumerable inhabitants
of the sea, of all classes, are colored green, such as many fishes
and crustacea, worms, and sea-anemones: indeed, creatures which
elsewhere seldom or never appear in green livery wear it here;
for instance, several star-fish, sea-urchins, sea-cucumbers; also


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some enormous bivalves, and Brachiopoda, and others. An
explanation of this phenomenon is to be found in Darwin's prin-
ciples, particularly in the law of adaptation by selection of simi-
lar coloring or sympathetic affinity of color, as I have elucidated.
it in my 'History of Creation. ' The less the predominant color-
ing of any creature varies from that of its surroundings, the less
will it be seen by its foes, the more easily can it steal upon its
prey, and the more it is protected and fitted for the struggle for
existence. Natural selection will at the same time constantly
confirm the similarity between the prevailing color of the animal
and of its surroundings, because it is beneficial to the animal.
The green coral banks of Ceylon, with their preponderance of
green inhabitants, are as instructive in their bearing on this
theory as are the green land animals which people the evergreen
forests and thickets of the island; but in purity and splendor of
coloring the sea creatures are even more remarkable than the
fauna of the forests.
It would, however, be a mistake to suppose that this prevail-
ing green hue produces a monotonous uniformity of coloring.
On the contrary, it is impossible to weary of admiring it; for on
the one hand, the most wonderful gradations and modifications
may be traced through it, and on the other, numbers of vividly
and gaudily colored forms are scattered among them.
And just
as the gorgeous red, yellow, violet, or blue colors of many birds.
and insects look doubly splendid in the dark-green forest of Cey-
lon, so do the no less brilliant hues of some marine creatures on
the coral banks. Many small fishes and crustaceans are particu-
larly distinguished by such gaudy coloring, with very elegant and
extremely singular markings, as they seek their food among the
ramifications of the coral-trees. Some few large corals are also
conspicuously and strikingly colored; thus, for instance, many
Pocilloporæ are rose-colored, many of the Astræidæ are red and
yellow, and many of the Heteroporæ and Madreporæ are violet
and brown, etc. But unfortunately, these gorgeous colors are for
the most part very evanescent, and disappear as soon as the coral
is taken out of the water; often at a mere touch. The sensitive
creatures which have displayed their open cups of tentacles in
the greatest beauty then suddenly close, and become inconspicu-
ous, dull, and colorless.
But if the eye is enchanted merely by the lovely hues of the
coral reef and its crowded population, it is still more delighted


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6790
ERNST HAECKEL
by the beauty and variety of form displayed by these creatures.
Just as the radiated structure of one individual coral polyp re-
sembles a true flower, so the whole structure of the branched
coral stock resembles the growth of plants, trees, and shrubs. It
was for this reason that corals were universally supposed to be
really plants, and it was long before their true nature as animals
was generally believed in.
These coral gardens display indeed a lovely and truly fairy-like
scene, as we row over them in a boat at low tide and on a calm
sea. Close under the Fort of Galle the sea is so shallow that
the keel of the boat grates on the points of the stony structure;
and from the wall of the fort above, the separate coral growths
can be distinguished through the crystal water. A great variety
of most beautiful and singular species here grow close together,
on so narrow a space that in a very few days I had made a
splendid collection.
Mr. Scott's garden, in which my kind host allowed me to
place them to dry, looked strange indeed during these days. The
splendid tropical plants seemed to vie with the strange marine
creatures who had intruded on their domain for the prize for
beauty and splendor; and the enchanted naturalist, whose glad-
dened eye wandered from one to the other, could not decide
whether the fauna or the flora best deserved to take it. The
coral animals imitated the forms of the loveliest flowers in aston-
ishing variety, and the orchids on the other hand mimicked the
forms of insects. The two great kingdoms of the organized
world seemed here to have exchanged aspects.
Most of the corals which I collected in Galle and Belligam, I
procured by the help of divers. These I found here to be quite
as clever and capable of endurance as the Arabs of Tur nine
years before. Armed with a strong crowbar, they uprooted the
limestone structure of even very large coral stocks from their
attachment to the rocky base, and raised them most skillfully up
to the boat. These masses often weighed from fifty to eighty
pounds, and it cost no small toil and care to lift them uninjured
into the boat. Some kinds of coral are so fragile that in taking
them out of the water they break by their own weight; and
so, unfortunately, it is impossible to convey many of the most
delicate kinds uninjured to land. This is the case, for instance,
with certain frail Turbinariæ, whose foliaceous stock grows in
the shape of an inverted spiral cone; and of the many-branched


## p. 6791 (#171) ###########################################

ERNST HAECKEL
6791
Heteropora, which resembles an enormous stag's antler with hun-
dreds of twigs.
It is not from above, however, that a coral reef displays its
full beauty, even when we row close over it, and when the ebb-
tide has left the water so shallow that its projections grind
against the boat. On the contrary, it is essential to take a
plunge into the sea. In the absence of a diving-bell I tried to
dive to the bottom and keep my eyes open under water, and
after a little practice I found this easy. Nothing could be more
wonderful than the mysterious green sheen which pervades this
submarine world. The enchanted eye is startled by the wonder-
ful effects of light, which are so different from those of the
upper world with its warm and rosy coloring; and they lend a
double interest and strangeness to the forms and movements of
the myriads of creatures that swarm among the corals. The
diver is in all reality in a new world. There is in fact a whole
multitude of singular fishes, crustacea, mollusca, radiata, worms,
etc. , whose food consists solely of the coral polyps among
which they live; and these coral-eaters, which may be regarded
as parasites in the true sense of the word, have acquired by
adaptation to their peculiar mode of life the most extraordinary
forms; more especially are they provided with weapons of offense
and defense of the most remarkable character.
But just as it is well known that "no man may walk un-
punished under the palms," so the naturalist cannot swim with
impunity among the coral banks. The Oceanides, under whose
protection these coral fairy bowers of the sea flourish, threaten
the intruding mortal with a thousand perils. The Millepora, as
well as the Medusa which float among them, burn him wherever
they touch like the most venomous nettles; the sting of the fish
known as Synanceia is as painful and dangerous as that of the
scorpion; numbers of crabs nip his tender flesh with their power-
ful claws; black sea-urchins thrust their foot-long spines, covered
with fine prickles set the wrong way, into the sole of his foot,
where they break off and remain, causing very serious wounds.
But worst of all is the injury to the skin in trying to secure the
coral itself. The numberless points and angles with which their
limestone skeleton is armed, inflict a thousand little wounds at
every attempt to detach and remove a portion. Never in my
life have I been so gashed and mangled as after a few days of
diving and coral-fishing at Galle, and I suffered from the conse-


## p. 6792 (#172) ###########################################

6792
ERNST HAECKEL
quences for several weeks after. But what are these transient
sufferings to a naturalist, when set in the scale against the fairy-
like scenes of delight with which a plunge among these marvel-
ous coral groves enriches his memory for life!
Translation of Clara Bell.


## p. 6793 (#173) ###########################################

6793
HĀFIZ
(FOURTEENTH CENTURY A. D. )
BY A. V. WILLIAMS JACKSON
AFIZ, the famous lyric poet of Persia in the fourteenth cen-
tury, is sometimes called the Persian Anacreon. Hafiz sang
the praises of the rose and of the springtide, and chanted
the glories of spiritual beauty and love, or fluted in plaintive strains
the sad note of the bulbul or nightingale in Persia, at a time not far
distant from that in which England listened to the rhythmical con-
flict in minstrelsy between 'The Owl and the Nightingale,' or was
entranced by the dulcet measures of the Chaucerian 'Romaunt of the
Rose. '
«<
Hafiz, the tender and sensitive poet, was born about the opening
of the fourteenth century. His full name was Khwaja Shams-ad-din
Muhammad Hafiz. We are told that he was of good family, and we
know that he must have had an excellent education. His nom de
plume Hafiz» ("retainer": i. e. , "one who remembers," or "who
knows the Quran by heart") is significant; and his native city of
Shiraz, whose praises he sounds, has become synonymous with poetic
inspiration. Hafiz stands almost as the last and greatest in the line
of Persian poesy which can boast of Firdausī, Nizāmi, Omar Khay-
yām, Jalāl-ad-din Rūmi, Sa'dī, and Jāmi. The charm of his style,
the beauty of his language, the pure flow of his verse, and the pas-
sionate depth of his thought and feeling, whether it be in a lyrical
outpouring of his own soul or in the veiled, mystic ecstasy of spirit-
ual devotion concealed under the guise of material images, rightly
render Hafiz a poet's poet.
His life seems not to have been very eventful, and it is only sur-
mise that presumes that his youth may have been Anacreontic. A
tradition, however, is preserved which shows that his verse early
won him world-wide fame. His name reached India and came to
the ears of the Deccan prince, Sultan Mahmud Shāh Bahmani. His
Majesty invited the gifted bard to visit his court, and sent him a
handsome present to defray the expenses of his journey. Hafiz, like
Horace, if the story be true, seems to have been a poor sailor. In
terror of shipwreck he turned back before he had fairly started on
his voyage, and sent to the generous literary patron a poem or pan-
egyric instead of presenting himself. He apologized for his absence


## p. 6794 (#174) ###########################################

6794
HAFIZ
on the ground of dread of the dangers of the deep; and his expressed
preference for the quiet life and charming beauties of Shiraz does
not seem to have displeased the liberal-minded potentate.
A pretty story is also told, regarding one of Hafiz's odes that be-
came known to the Scythian conqueror Timur Lang (Tamerlane).
This was the ghazal beginning —
"Agar an Turk i Shirāzi ba-dast ārad dil i mā-rā,”
which is below translated in the lines opening with-
"If that beauty of Shiraz would take my heart in hand. »
In this sonnet the passionate poet offers to give the cities of Samar-
kand and Bokhara for "the dark mole" on his favorite's cheek.
When the great Tamerlane subdued Farsistan, he is said to have sum-
moned Hafiz to his presence and to have sternly rebuked him for this
lavish recklessness in giving away cities that were not a poet's to
bestow. The brilliancy of the minstrel's wit was equal to the occa-
sion kissing the ground at the conqueror's feet, he replied, "Sultān
of the world, it is through such generosity that I am come to this dis-
astrous [or joyous] day. " It is needless to add the happy result, and
one wishes that the truth of the story were less uncertain. Like Pin-
dar and other famous poets, stories are also not wanting as to how
Hafiz received the gift of song; fanciful as they may be, they all show
the esteem in which he was held, not in Persia alone, but abroad.
Hafiz was married, if we rightly interpret the pathetic lines that
lament a home left desolate by the departure of a being for whom
his soul breathed the Divine awe. (See below. ) His own death oc-
curred about 1389. It is said that the Moslem priests at first declined
to perform the last solemn rites over his body, as exceptions were
taken to the orthodoxy of some of his poetical compositions.
determined to decide the matter by lot. A number of verses chosen
at random from Hafiz's own poems were tossed into an urn, and a
child was appointed to draw one out. The verse read:-
-――――
"From the bier of Hafiz keep not back thy foot,
For though he be immersed in sin, he goeth to Paradise. »
The body was at once accorded proper burial, and his grave in a
fair shaded garden near Shīrāz, with its beautifully inscribed alabas-
ter slab, still forms a living monument, if one were needed besides
the lovely odes that we have of this passionate poet.
Hafiz was a prolific writer; the manuscript and printed editions of
his works comprise more than five hundred ghazals or odes. A
ghazal-ode, or perhaps rather sonnet-is a poem not exceeding six-
teen or seventeen couplets. The last two words of the first couplet


## p. 6795 (#175) ###########################################

HAFIZ
6795
rhyme together, and with these also rhymes the second line of every
couplet in the poem; all the odd lines are entirely independent of
rhyme. The signature of the poet, as a rule, is woven into the last
verse of the ghazal. Parallels for signatures thus inserted are not far
to seek in the Greek anthology or in English, or even in Anglo-Saxon
poetry. A series of ghazals, moreover, when gathered into a collec-
tion, is called a dīvān. The poems or odes in a dīvān are regularly
arranged, alphabetically, according to the initial letter of the Persian
word with which the poem begins. A parallel might be imagined if
our hymn-books were arranged according to the table of first lines.
Hafiz also wrote quatrains and a number of other short poetical com-
positions. So popular was his dīvān that it came to be consulted as
an oracle, by opening the book and putting the finger on any chance
verse.
As to the poetic merit of Hafiz's work, there is no question: his
title to fame is acknowledged. As to the interpretation of his poems,
however, there is much question and debate whether they are to be
taken in a literal or in a spiritual sense. Some readers see in his
praises of love and of wine, of musky tresses and slender cypress
forms, merely the passion of an Ovid or an Anacreon. Other admirers
of Hafiz, however, and especially his Oriental worshipers, read spirit-
ual thoughts of Divine love, of the soul and God, behind the physi-
cal imagery. Wine is the spirit, it is not the juice of the grape; and
the draught from the tavern is but quaffing the cup of self-oblivion.
There is undoubted truth in this interpretation, which is in accord-
ance with the mystic doctrines of Sufi-ism. The idea is Oriental, and
the analogous interpretation of the Song of Solomon is familiar. In
the Occident, moreover, mediæval poets employed similar physical
images for religious awe and adoration; parallels even of English
poets in the seventeenth century, like the Fletchers, Donne, and
Crashaw, might be cited. But, as in the latter instances also, there
can be little doubt that numerous odes of Hafiz, perhaps those of his
earlier youth, hardly allow of anything but a material and passionate
interpretation. In any case, the grace, charm, beauty, and delicate
feeling is never absent in Hafiz's poetry.
The most complete edition of Hafiz in translation is the English
prose rendering by H. Wilberforce Clarke: The Dīvān i Hafiz, Trans-
lated' (3 vols. , London, 1891). It also contains extensive biographical,
bibliographical, and critical matter, and should certainly be consulted.
Selections from Hafiz have been translated into many languages.
Sir William Jones, who was himself a poet, made Hafiz familiar in
English as early as 1795. Among other names might be mentioned
H. Bicknell, 'Selections from Hafiz' (London, 1875); and S. Robinson,
'Persian Poetry for English Readers' (privately printed, Glasgow,


## p. 6796 (#176) ###########################################

6796
HAFIZ
1883). Robinson's work has evidently been drawn upon by J. H.
McCarthy: 'Ghazels from the Divan of Hafiz' (London and New
York, 1893). The best German translation (complete) is by V. von
Rosenzweig (3 vols. , 1856-64).
A. P. Williams Jackson
SELECTED GHAZALS OR ODES
F THAT beauty of Shiraz would take my heart in hand, I would
give for her dark mole Samarkand and Bokhara.
Boy, bring me the wine that remaineth; for in Paradise thou wilt
not see the banks of the water of Roknabad, nor the
rose bower of our Mosella.
Alas! those saucy lovely ones, those charming disturbers of our city,
bear away patience from my heart as Turkomans their
repast of plunder!
Yet the beauty of our maidens is independent of our imperfect love!
To a lovely face what need is there of paint or dyes, of
mole or down?
Speak to me of the musician and of wine, and search less into the
secrets of futurity; for no one in his wisdom ever hath
discovered, or ever will discover, that mystery.
I can understand how the beauty of Joseph, which added new lustre
to the day, withdrew Zulaikha from the veil of her mod-
esty.
Thou hast spoken evil of me, and I am contented - God forgive thee!
Thou hast spoken well; for even a bitter word is beseem-
ing, when it cometh from a ruby sugar-dropping lip.
Give ear, O my soul, to good counsel; for better than their own souls
love youths of a happy disposition the admonition of the
aged wise.
Thou hast composed thy ghazal; thou hast strung thy pearls: come
and sing it sweetly, O Hafiz! for Heaven hath shed upon
thy poetry the harmony of the Pleiades.
THE HEART is the veil behind which is hidden His love; His eye is
the mirror-holder which reflecteth His countenance.
I, who would not bow my head to both worlds, submit my neck to
the burthen of His mercies.


## p. 6797 (#177) ###########################################

HAFIZ
6797
Thou enjoyest the tuba-tree, I the image of my beloved one! Every
one's thoughts are fashioned to the measure of his aims.
What should I be within that Holy Place, in which the morning breeze
is the veil-holder who guardeth the sanctuary of His honor!
If I have soiled the skirts of my raiment, what is the damage which
I can do? The universe is the pledge for His purity!
Mejnun is long departed; now it is our turn: to each one is allowed
a five-days' sojourning!
The kingdom of love and the wealth of enjoyment - all that I pos-
sess is bestowed by the hand of His destination.
If we have offered for a ransom ourselves and our hearts, why need
we fear? The goal towards which we strive is the pur-
pose of His salvation.
Never cease to make His image the object of thine eye, for its cell
is the peculiar chamber of His privacy.
Every new rose which adorneth the meadow is a mark of the color
and perfume of His benevolence.
Look not on his external poverty, for the bosom of Hafiz is a rich
treasury in the exuberance of His benevolence!
IS THERE aught sweeter than the delights of the garden and compan-
ionship of the spring? But where is the Cup-bearer ?
Say, what is the cause of his lingering?
Every pleasant moment that cometh to your hand, score up as an
invaluable prize! Let no one hesitate, for who knoweth
the conclusion of the matter?
The tie of life is but a hair! Use thine intelligence; be thyself thine
own comrade in sorrow, and what then is the sorrow
which Fate can deal thee?
The meaning of the Fountain of Life and the Gardens of Irem —
what is it but the enjoyment of a running stream and a
delicious wine?
The temperate man and the intemperate are both of one tribe: what
choice is there between them, that we should surrender
our souls to dubious reasonings?
What reveal the silent heavens of that which is behind the veil? O
litigant, why dispute with the keeper of the Veil?
If to him who is bound up in error or sin there is no room for warn-
ing or amendment, what meaning is there in the words
"Canceling, and the mercy of the Forgiving One"?
The devotee longs for draughts from the river Kuther, and Hafiz
from a goblet of wine. Between these, the will of the
Creator - what would that be?


## p. 6798 (#178) ###########################################

6798
HAFIZ
IN THE hour of dawn the bird of the garden thus spoke to a freshly
blown rose: "Be less disdainful, for in this garden hath
bloomed many a one like thee. "
The rose smiled, and said, "We have never grieved at hearing the
truth; but no lover would speak so harshly to his be-
loved! "
To all eternity, the odor of love will never reach the brain of that
man who hath never swept with his brow the dust from
the sill of the wine-house.
Dost thou desire to drink the ruby-tinted wine from that gold-
begemmed goblet, how many a pearl must thou first
pierce with the point of thine eyelashes!
Yesterday, when in the Rose Garden of Irem the morning breeze
with its gentle breath began to disturb the hair of the
spikenard,
I exclaimed, "O throne of Jemshid, where is thy magic world-
reflecting mirror? " and it replied, "Alas! that that watch-
ful Fortune should be slumbering! "
The words of love are not those that come to the tongue: O Cup-
bearer, cut short this asking and answering.
The tears of Hafiz have cast patience and wisdom into the sea: how
could it be otherwise? The burning pangs of love how
could he conceal?
THE Fast is over, the Festival is come, and hearts are lifted up, and
the wine is sparkling in the wine-house, and wine we
must drink!
The turn of the heavy dealer in abstinence is past, the season of joy
is arrived, and of joyous revelers!
Why should reproach be heaped upon him, who like me quaffeth
wine? This is neither sin nor fault in the jovial lover!
The drinker of wine, in whom is no false show and no dissimulation,
is better than he who is a trader in semblances.
We are neither dissembling revelers, nor the comrades of hypocrites:
He who is the knower of all secrets knoweth this.
We discharge all our Divine obligations and do evil to no man; and
whatever we are told is not right, we say not that it is
right.
What mattereth it, that thou and I should quaff a few goblets of wine?
Wine is the blood of the vine; it is not thy blood!
This is not a fault which throweth all into confusion; and were it a
fault, where is the man to be found who is free from
faults?


## p. 6799 (#179) ###########################################

HAFIZ
6799
Hafiz, leave thou the "How" and the "Wherefore," and drink for a
moment thy wine: His wisdom hath withholden from us
what is the force of the words "How" and "WHEREFORE. ”
HAIL, Shiraz! incomparable site! O Lord, preserve it from every
disaster!
God forbid a hundred times that our Roknabād be dimmed, to which
the life of Khizar hath given its brightness!
For between Jafferabad and Mosella cometh his north wind perfumed
with amber.
Oh come to Shīrāz, and the overflow of the Holy Spirit implore for it
from the man who is the possessor of all perfection!
Let no one boast here the sugar-candy of Egypt, for our sweet ones
have no reason for the blush of shame.
O morning breeze, what news bringest thou of that tipsy lovely one?
What information canst thou give me of her condition?
Awaken me not from my dream, O God, that I may sweeten my soli-
tude with that fair vision!
Yea, if that sweet one should desire me to pour out my blood, yield
it up, my heart, as freely as mother's milk!
Wherefore, O Hafiz, if thou wouldst be terrified by the thought of
separation, wast thou not grateful for the days of her
presence?
O LORD, that smiling rose which thou gavest me in charge, I return
to thy charge, to preserve her from the envious eye of
her meadow.
Although she be removed a hundred stages from the village of faith-
fulness, far be the mischiefs of the revolutions of the
moon from her soul and body!
Whithersoever she goeth, the heart of her friend shall be the com-
panion of her journey; the kindness of the benevolent the
shield of her soul and body!
If, morning wind, thou passest by the bounds of Sulima's station,
I shall look that thou carry a salutation from me to
Sulima.
Scatter thy musky fragrance gently upon those black tresses: they
are the abode of dear hearts,- do not disturb them!
Say to her, "My heart preserveth its vow of fidelity to the mole and
down of thy cheek;" therefore hold sacred those amber-
plaited ringlets.


## p. 6800 (#180) ###########################################

6800
HAFIZ
In the place where they drink to the memory of her lip, base would
be the intoxicated one who should remain conscious of
himself!
Merchandise and money expect not to gain at the door of the wine-
house. Whoever partaketh of this beverage will cast his
pack into the sea.
Whoever is in dread of the restlessness of anxiety, not genuine is his
love: either be her foot upon my head, or be my lip upon
her mouth!
The poetry of Hafiz is the primary couplet of wisdom: praise be on
her soul-attracting and grace-inspiring breath!
I HAVE made a compact with the mistress of my soul, that so long as
I have a soul within my body I will hold as mine own
soul the well-wishers of her village.
In the privacy of my breast I see light from that taper of Chighil;
splendor to mine eye and brightness to my heart from
that moon of Khoten.
Since in accordance with my wishes and yearnings I have gained the
privacy of my breast, why need I care for the slander of
evil-speakers in the midst of the crowd?
If a hundred armies of lovely ones should be lying in ambush to
assault my heart, I have, by the mercy and to the praise
of Heaven, an idol which will shatter armies to pieces.
Would to Heaven, my rival, that this night thou wouldest close thine
eye for a while, that I might whisper a hundred words
to her silent ruby lips!
No inclination have I for tulip, or white rose, or the leaf of the nar-
cissus, so long as by Heaven's grace I walk proudly in
the rose garden of her favor.
O mine ancient wise one, lay not thy prohibition on the wine-house;
for abandoning the wine-cup, I should break a pledge to
mine own heart.
My beverage is easy of digestion, and my love is beautiful as a pict-
ure; no one hath a love-such a love as I have!
I have a Cypress in my dwelling, under the shade of whose tall
stature I can dispense with the cypress of the grove, and
the box-tree of the meadow.
I can boast that the seal of her ruby lip is potent as was that of
Solomon: in possession of the Great Name, why should I
dread the Evil One!
After long abstinence, Hafiz is become a notorious reveler; but why
grieve, so long as there is in the world an Emin-ad-Din
Hassan!


## p. 6801 (#181) ###########################################

HĀFIZ
6801
SPRING is come again, and the joy-exciting and vow-breaking rose;
in the delight of gazing on the cheek of the rose, tear up
the root of sorrow from thy heart!
The soft east wind is arrived; the rosebud in its passion hath burst
forth and torn its own garment.
Learn, O my heart, the way of sincerity from the clear water; in
uprightness seek freedom from the cypress of the meadow.
The bride of the rosebud, with her jewels and sweet smile, hath stolen
away with her black eye my heart and my religion.
The warbling of the enamored nightingale, and the piping of the
bird of the thousand notes, come to enjoy the meeting
with the rose from her house of mourning [i. e.