isper in their ears that cosmic
secret--"Bon Espoir y gist au fond!" "Good Hope lies at the
Bottom!" "Good Hope" for all; for the best and the worst--for the
whole miserable welter of this chaotic farce!

Therefore, "with angels and archangels" let us bow our heads and
hold our tongues. Those who fancy Rabelais to be lacking in the
kind of religious feeling that great souls respect, let them read that
passage in the voyage of Pantagruel that speaks of the Death of Pan.
Various accounts are given; various explanations made; of the great
cry, that the sailors, "coming from Paloda," heard over land and sea.
At the last Pantagruel himself speaks; and he tells them that to him it
refers to nothing less than the death of Him whom the Scribes and
Pharisees and Priests of Jerusalem slew. "And well is He called Pan,
which in the Greek means 'All'; for in Him is all we are or have or
hope." And having said this he fell into silence, and "tears large as
ostrich-eggs rolled down his cheeks."

To all who read Rabelais and love him, one can offer no better wish
than that the mystic wine of his Holy Bottle may fulfil their heart's
desire. Happy, indeed, those who are not "unwillingly drawn" by the
"Fate" we all must follow! "Go now, my friends," says the strange
Priestess, "and may that Circle whose Centre is everywhere and its
Circumference nowhere, keep you in His Almighty protection!"

DANTE

The history of Dante's personal and literary appeal would be an
extremely interesting one. No great writer has managed to excite
more opposite emotions.

One thing may be especially noted as significant: Women have
always been more attracted to him than men. He is in a peculiar
sense the Woman's great poet. There is a type of masculine genius
which has always opposed him. Goethe cared little for him; Voltaire
laughed at him; Nietzsche called him "an hyaena poetizing among
the tombs."

The truth is, women love Dante for the precise reason that these men
hate him. He makes sex the centre of everything. One need not be
deceived by the fact that Dante worships "purity," while Voltaire,
Goethe and Nietzsche are little concerned with it. This very
laudation of continence is itself an emphasis upon sex. These others
would play with amorous propensities; trifle with them in their life,
in their art, in their philosophy; and then, that dangerous plaything
laid aside would, as Machiavel puts it, "assume suitable attire, and
return to the co