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النشر الإلكتروني

Satan boit, et, pris de colique,
Il jure, il grimace, il se tord;
Il crève comme un hérétique.
Le Diable est mort, le diable est mort.

Il est mort! disent tous les moines ;
On n'achètera plus d'agnus.
Il est mort! disent les chanoines;
On ne paiera plus d'oremus.
Au conclave on se désespère:
Adieu puissance et coffre-fort!
Le Diable est mort, le diable est mort.

L'Amour sert bien moins que la crainte ;
Elle nous comblait de ses dons.
L'intolérance est presque éteinte;
Qui rallumera ses brandons ?
A notre joug si l'homme échappe,
La Vérité luira d'abord :
Dieu sera plus grand que le pape.
Le Diable est mort, le diable est mort.

Ignace accourt: Que l'on me donne,
Leur dit-il, sa place et ses droits.
Il n'épouvantait plus personne;
Je ferai trembler jusqu'aux rois.
Vols, massacres, guerres ou pestes,
M'enrichiront du sud au nord.
Dieu ne vivra que de mes restes.
Le Diable est mort, le diable est mort.

Tous de s'écrier: Ah! brave homme!
Nous te bénissons dans ton fiel.
Soudain son ordre, appui de Rome,
Voit sa robe effrayer le ciel.
l'n choeur d'anges, l'âme contrite,
Dit: Des humains plaignons le sort :
De l'enfer saint Ignace hérite.
Le Diable est mort, le diable est mort.

[I sing today a lay of lays,
A glorious miracle you'll see,
Give the great saint Ignatius praise,
Of little saints the glory he.
A dirty trick-if saints can trick,
And if the truth may all be said,
Has done the business for Old Nick,
The Devil's dead the Devil's dead!

Old Nick went out one day to dine,
And pledg'd the saint to drink his heatih,
Aye, said the saint-and in the wine
Some holy poison dropp'd by stealth ;
Gripes seiz'd the Devil-cruel-sick-
He swears-he storms-and hangs his head,
Then bursts, as bursts a heretic-
The Devil's dead—the Devil's dead!

Alas! He's dead—the friars said,
The Devil an Agnus shall we sell ;
Alas! the canons cried-he's dead-
Not one oremus shall we tell.
The conclave is in deep despair,
Power and the iron chest are fled,
O we have lost our father dear,
The Devil's dead—the Devil's dead!

Love is not half so strong as fear,
For fear was constant with her gifts.
Who now her blazing torch uplifts?
If man from us should once be free,
What light may beam upon his head;
God greater than the Pope shall be-
The Devil's dead the Devil's dead!

Ignatius came—“Let me but take
His place—his right-and see; in brief-
He has made men for ages quake.
I'll make kings tremble like a leaf!
With plagues, thefts, massacres, I'll ban

Both north and south-where'er I tread;
Leave ruins both for God and man-
The Devil's dead—the Devil's dead!"

“Come, blessed one,” they uttered, “come,
We hallow thy most saintly gall”—
And now his Order-sent from Rome-
O'ershadows, darkens, curses all.
I heard a choir of angels tell
Their sympathies for man, they said,
"Ignatius is the heir of Hell,
The Devil's dead--the Devil's dead!"]


Béranger, however, could aiso speak of Satan seriously. In this poem addressed to a young woman, in whom our author believes to have discovered an angel exiled from Heaven, the legend of the fall of the angels is treated seriously. Among the legions of Lucifer was an angel who repented of his sin. The Lord brought him up from Hell to pass a period of probation on earth. This exiled celestial moves among men with his divine lyre to charm away their sorrows and to comfort them in their afflictions. As soon as he redeems himself in the eyes of God, he will be recalled to Heaven.

According to another version of the legend," the angels who were not hurled into the bottom of Hell but banished to our earth had maintained a neutral position in the rivalry between the Lord and Lucifer. It is not so generally known that during the war in Heaven the angels were not wholly divided into two opposing camps. There were many spirits who, untouched by partisan passions, remained aloof from the conflict and refused to don the uniform.

They demanded their right of keeping out of a war which they did not bring about and in which they had no interest whatever. When the Lord defeated his enemy and cast him and his legionaries into the abyss, he did not hurl also the neutral angels into Hell, but, in order to give them another opportunity to choose between him and his rival, cast them down to the earth to which the scene of the battle had been transferred. From these angels, who married mortal maidens (cf. Gen. vi., 1), there has developed a race which has always shown a striking contrast to the human family. It has furnished humanity with its prophets and poets, with its reformers and revolutionaries. All great men at all times and in all places have belonged to this mysterious race which does not proceed from father to son, like other races, but appears here and there, at recurring intervals, in the families of mankind. The descendants of this union between the sons of God and the daughters of men have always stood in the first ranks of those who seek peace and abhor murder. They have proven valiant warriors in the eternal conflict between the Good and the Evil for the mastery of the world. They have long ago redeemed themselves, but they will not return to Heaven until they have also redeemed all men.

7 This legend is an attempt at a reconciliation of two contradictory passages relating to the punishment of the revolting angels; cf., Rev. xii., 9 and xx., 3.







T COULD hardly be expected that the popular consciousness

would be gripped by Upanishadic thought. It was too intellectual, too impersonal, to appeal to any but a small proportion of the population. The great mass of mankind demanded, as always, a personal, quasi-human god or gods to worship: it could not be satisfied by a refined, mystic contemplation of a nameless Soul, even if it be the Soul of the universe. Some more acceptable outlet for the religious feeling of the people had to be provided; and there is good reason to believe that it was provided. Unfortunately, the evidence about it is mostly indirect and secondary. We can judge of it, for the most part, only from its traces in such later works as the Bhagavad Gitā, which clearly presuppose a considerable development of popular religion, distinct from the higher thought of the Upanishads but contemporary therewith. In the Gītā these two streams are blended. We have no records that show us the popular beliefs of that period in a pure form.

For this reason, it is scarcely possible to attempt any extensive reconstruction of those popular beliefs. The principal thing to be said about them is that they were certainly theistic, and presumably tended towards a monotheism, of a more or less qualified sort. That is, presumably various local or tribal deities were worshipped in different parts of India, each occupying a position somewhat similar to that of Yahweh among the Jews-each being regarded as the chief

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