ens, the
creatures of the senses, may be thwarted by a species of external
force; but not the present monsters can be so treated. The dualism
exists doubtless, and we can be caught in it, but the function of mind
is to overspan it, and so transform all difference, discord, diabolism
into unity, harmony, deity.
Thus Ulysses disobeys Circe's command not to attempt to fight Scylla
with weapons; the reason of her injunction becomes plain. Not a
sensuous thing to be slain is Scylla, in spite of her animal figure;
the poet hints that she is to be encountered by mind, which must here
see both sides at once and so assert its supremacy over both. To be
intent upon the one and disregard the other--that is the grand human
danger. Hence the thought of Scylla and Charybdis has passed into the
literature of the world, nay into the proverbs of the people, to
express the peril of one-sidedness, as well as the inherent dualism in
all conduct. Moreover the golden mean is suggested, that principle of
action so familiar in later Greek philosophy. Deeper than this golden
mean, however, runs the idea here; the dialectic of existence, the
twofoldness which must be made one, the higher synthesis over all
analysis are dimly intimated in the marvelous tale.
3. Having escaped through the two rocks, Ulysses and his companions
come to "the flawless island of the Sun," the all-seeing luminary of
Heaven. It is the total light beholding the totality. Is it not
manifest that we have passed out of dualism into unity, out of strife
into harmony? The island is represented as pastoral, peaceful, idyllic,
with its herds reposing in sunlight; certainly a decided contrast to
the noise and struggle in the region of Scylla and Charybdis. Or we may
give the matter a psychological turn and say: Such is the transition
from the Understanding with its finitude to Reason with its
universality, to the all-seeing light within. Ulysses, having
transcended the limit he showed in his last experience, has gone
forward to the clear sunlit realm which illumines all limitations.
But just at this point danger arises. On the island are pasturing herds
of oxen and sheep sacred to the Sun, things of light consecrated to
light. The temptation will be to use them for the gratification of
appetite, perhaps under some strong stress. Already both Tiresias and
Circe have given the warning, which Ulysses now repeats to his
companions and even exacts an oath from them not to harm t
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