Eco: Foucalt's Pendulum by eco foucault (ebook smartphone .txt) 📕

caricature of acaricature. Except that those gentlemen take it extremelyseriously. Alas! The world is teeming with Rosicrucians andTemplars like the, ones you saw this evening. You mustn't expectany revelation from them, though among their number occasionallyyou can come across an initiate worthy of trust."

"But you, after all,"Belbo said, without irony, as if the matter concerned himpersonally, "spend time with them. Which ones do you believe in? Ordid you once believe in?"

"None, of course. Do Ilook like a credulous individual? I consider them with the coldobjectivity, the understanding, the interest with which atheologian might observe a Naples crowd shouting in anticipation ofthe miracle of San Gennaro. The crowd bears witness to a faith, adeep need, and the theologian wanders among the sweating, droolingpeople because he might encounter there an unknown saint, thebearer of a higher truth, a man capable of casting new light on themystery of the most Holy Trinity. But the Holy Trinity is onething, San Gennaro is another."

He could not be pinneddown. I didn't know how to define it¡Xhermetic skepticism?liturgical cynicism?¡Xthis higher disbelief that led him toacknowledge the dignity of all the superstitions hescorned.

"It's simple," he wassaying to Belbo. "If the Templars, the real Templars, did leave asecret and did establish some kind of continuity, then it isnecessary to seek them out, and to seek them in the places wherethey could most easily camouflage themselves, perhaps by inventingrites and myths in order to move unobserved, like fish in water.What do the police do when they seek the archvillain, the evilmastermind? They dig into the lower depths, the notorious divesfilled with petty crooks who will never conceive the grandiosecrimes of the dark genius the police are after. What does theterrorist leader do to recruit new acolytes? Where does he look forthem and find them? He circulates in the haunts of thepseudosubversives, the fellow-travelers who would never have thecourage to be the real thing, but who openly ape the attitudes oftheir idols. Concealed light is best sought in fires, or in thebrush where, after the blaze, the flames go on brooding undertwigs, under trampled muck. What better hiding place for the trueTemplar than in the crowd of his caricatures?''

62

We consider societiesdruidic if they are druidic in their titles of their aims, or iftheir initiations are inspired by druidism.

¡XM. Raoult, Lesdruides. Les societes initiatiqu.es celtes contemporaines, Paris,Rocher, 1983, p. 18

Midnight wasapproaching, and according to Agile's program the second surpriseof the evening awaited us. Leaving the Palatine gardens, we resumedour journey through the hills.

After we had driventhree-quarters of an hour, Aglie made us park the two cars at theedge of a wood. We had to cross some underbrush, he said, to arriveat a clearing, and there were neither roads nor trails.

We proceeded, pickingour way through shrubs and vines, our shoes slipping on rottedleaves and slimy roots. From time to time Aglie switched on aflashlight to find a path, but only for a second, because, he said,we should not announce our presence to the celebrants. Diotallevimade a remark¡XI don't recall it exactly, something about LittleRed Riding-Hood¡Xand Aglie, with tension in his voice, asked him tobe quiet.

As we were about to cometo the end of the brush, we heard voices. We had reached the edgeof the clearing, which was illuminated by a glow from remotetorches¡Xor perhaps votive lights, flickering at ground level,faint and silvery, as if a gas were burning with chemical coldnessin bubbles drifting over the grass. Aglte told us to stop where wewere, still shielded by bushes, and wait.

"In a little while thepriestesses will come. The Druidesses, that is. This is aninvocation of the great cosmic virgin Mikil. Saint Michael is apopular Christian adaptation, and it's no accident that he is anangel, hence androgynous, hence able to take the place of a femaledivinity..."

"Where do they comefrom?" Diotallevi whispered.

"From many places:Normandy, Norway, Ireland...It is a very special event, and this isa propitious place for the rite."

"Why?" Garamondasked.

"Certain places havemore magic than others."

"But who are they¡Xinreal life?"

"People. Secretaries,insurance agents, poets. People you might run into tomorrow and notrecognize."

Now we could see a smallgroup preparing to enter the clearing. The phosphorescent light, Irealized, came from little lamps the priestesses held up in theirhands. They had seemed, earlier, to be at ground level because theclearing was on the top of a hill; the Druidesses had climbed upfrom below and were approaching the flat, open hilltop. They weredressed in white tunics, which fluttered in the slight breeze. Theyformed a circle; in the center, three celebrants stood.

"Those are the threehallouines of Lisieux, Clonmacnoise, and Pino Torinese," Agliesaid. Belbo asked why those three in particular. Aglie shrugged andsaid: "No more. We must wait now in silence. I can't summarize foryou in a few words the whole ritual and hierarchy of Nordic magic.Be satisfied with what I can tell you. If I do not tell you more,it is because I do not know...or am not allowed to tell. I mustrespect certain vows of privacy."

In the center of theclearing I noticed a pile of rocks, which suggested a dolmen.Perhaps the clearing had been chosen because of the presence ofthose boulders. One of the celebrants climbed up on the dolmen andblew a trumpet. Even more than the trumpet we had seen a few hoursearlier, this looked like something out of the triumphal march inAt da. But a muffled and nocturnal sound came from it, as if fromfar away. Belbo touched my arm: "It's the ramsing, the horn of theThugs around the sacred banyan..."

My reply was cruel,because I didn't realize he was joking precisely to repress otherassociations, and it must have twisted the knife in the wound. "Itwould no doubt be less magical with the bombardon," Isaid.

Belbo nodded. "Yes,they're here precisely because they don't want a bombardon," hesaid.

Was it on that eveninghe began to see a connection between his private dreams and whathad been happening to him in those months?

Aglifc hadn't followedour words, but heard us whispering. "It's not a warning or asummons," he explained, "but a kind of ultrasound, to establishcontact with the subterranean currents. You see, now the Druidessesare all holding hands,