These observations are an extension of those of a friend, the late Mircea Eliade, who more than once dealt with the problem of time. Philosophers have long been interested in this problem, which obviously concerns all of us. The nature of Eliade's preoccupations obliged him, but aside from that, we sense that the subject was close to his heart and that what he called “the terror of history” was a fundamental problem for him. He spoke of it at length in Le Sacré et le profane, in Le Mythe de l’éternel retour, in Images et symboles. His approach was that of a moralist and philosopher, but we know that this distinguished scholar was in reality an encyclopedist.

In his philosophy of life, Bergson's aim is very clear: to determine, beyond mechanism and finalism, the essence of change and of evolution according to the order of duration in opposition to the order of space or juxtaposition. His intention is to penetrate the specificity of the order of duration. Regarding time, the analyses of the previous philosophers are proved to be deceiving, since all of them, according to him, ended up in reducing time to a succession of simultaneities. Founded on the order of magnitude, mechanism lines up succession as a series of numbers, finalism adds to succession the law of the better: in both cases all is already given and time is reduced to a mere appearance. Nowhere do we find a process in depth; as time is conceived as the realization of a programme previously arranged, everything is simply spread out in space.

To take a structural approach to genealogy means dealing with it as a story written in a language that is unknown and yet to be deciphered. It is the very language of time—individual and familial—in which a human being situates, often in a striking manner, the principal life and death events of his own destiny. Or better perhaps, it means discovering this in genealogies, which must first be exhumed from the dusty cabinets where a solid and excessively documentary tradition has too long confined them, in order to consider them now, in a sense, as venerable “black boxes”, potentially containing secrets of the intimate functioning of families, capable of providing unknown information on this subject, with meaning and logic winning out over the apparent fantasy with which they have been coated.

A part of European cultural patrimony rests on the relationships our ancestors had with time. A few examples chosen at random will suffice to show how their attitude toward this point evolved over the ages. The famous Carpe Diem by Horace was an invitation to take advantage of the present moment. In Jewish tradition man‘s obligation to work was considered a curse. Similarly a saying attributed by Pliny to the painter Appelles emphasized the necessity of daily labor. In still other ages time appeared as the great destroyer of all things, and Christianity promised its enemies tortures that were no less eternal than the joys it reserved for its disciples.

As with any historical study, including that of knowledge and ideas, the progress of the semiology of the theater is subject to periodicity. The aim of any division into periods is to obtain a global view, even at the price of simplifications, but it can also bring out the hidden aspects of the phenomena under study.

The semiology or semiotics of the theater, that is, the application of the idea of sign to the art of the spectacle, has a long past, in which several stages may be distinguished, and first of all those that I would call the presemiology and the protosemiology of the theater.

We might begin a search for the possibility of translation with a search for a common moral foundation for both the Eastasian world and the Western world. Answers come easily with a qualified yes or no; for example, we might make a list or table comparing how East and West think about adultery. This is unsatisfying; we ourselves are often unclear what we think and feel about these issues. So, a few of the more circumspect might ask where our own sense of the moral arises. Perhaps we will seek the source of the OUGHT. Our friends from the Orient might ask us what these words moral or OUGHT mean. I do not think the West can as easily convey to the East what it means by sense of obligation as the West imparts technology. Try to translate our word obligation by the Japanese word giri; this translation is suspect since for the West, obligations are obligations only if they grate against the well ingrained inclinations of our being. The Kantian necessary test of authenticity of the true moral act will be if we act against the grain of our inclinations.

Our interdisciplinary studies for over twenty years applied to the comparative history of the Romané Chavé (European Gypsies) with the high military castes of India (Rajputs and Kshatrivas), had come off, as from 1964, to the following conclusions: the more a language is similar on the lexical level to Hindi-Rajasthani and, on the morphological one to Jodhpuri, the more it is similar to Gypsy language—Romani, the more a culture is similar to the culture of the Rajputs and Kshatrivas, the more it is similar to Romani culture; the more someone is similar to the members of the military castes of India and generally to the people of Hindu religion of North Western India, of the Delhi State and its surroundings (Haryana, Western Uttarprades, Rajasthan and Sindh), the more he is similar to a Romano Chavo.