The Manuscript Found in Saragossa

by Jan Potocki

  ‘How were these demi-gods dressed?’ I asked Rebecca.

  ‘They wore nothing at all,’ she replied. ‘Each one had four wings, two lying on their shoulders and two folded and crossed around their waists. These wings were actually as transparent as those of a fly, but woven through with gold and blue veins which hid from sight anything which might have shocked my modesty.’

  ‘So here they are,’ I said to myself, ‘the heavenly spouses to whom I am promised.’ I could not help privately comparing them to the young mulatto who adored Zulica. But I was ashamed of the thought. I looked in the mirror and thought that I saw two demi-gods looking severely at me, as though they had been able to read my mind and had taken offence at the involuntary comparison I had made.

  For several days I did not raise my eyes to the mirror, but at last I ventured to do so. The divine twins had their arms crossed on their chests and dispelled my shyness by their gentle air. Yet I did not know what to say to them. To escape my predicament, I fetched a volume of the works of Edris, whom you call Atlas.1 It is the most beautiful poetry that we have. The harmony of Edris’s verse imitates that of the heavenly bodies. I was not familiar with the poet’s language and, fearing that I had not read it well, I surreptitiously looked into the mirror to see what effect I was having on my audience. I had every reason to be pleased. The Thamim were looking at each other as though they approved of what I was doing, and from, time to time they shot glances into the mirror that I could not meet without feeling disturbed.

  My brother came in at that moment and the vision disappeared. He told me about Solomon’s daughters, the tips of whose feet he had seen. He was exhilarated, and I shared his joy. I felt myself at that moment imbued with an emotion which until then I had not known. The private thrill which usually accompanied cabbalistic exercises imperceptibly gave way to an indescribable, sweet abandon, the like of which I had not known before.

  My brother had the castle gates opened. They had been shut since my excursion into the mountains. We enjoyed the pleasures of a walk together. The countryside seemed to me to be painted with the most vivid colours. I could see my brother’s eyes burning with a sort of fire, different from the passion for knowledge. We made our way deep into an orange grove. I went off to muse by myself. He went his own way. We were still occupied by our reveries on our return.

  In preparing me for bed, Zulica brought me a mirror. I saw that I was not alone. I had the mirror taken away, thinking like an ostrich that I would not be seen if I could not see. I lay down and fell asleep, but some strange dreams took hold of my imagination. I thought I saw in the vast abyss of the heavens two brilliant stars travelling majestically across the zodiac. They suddenly left it and then reappeared, bearing with them the nebula from the belt of Andromeda.

  These three heavenly bodies continued together on their ethereal course. They then stopped and took on the appearance of a fiery meteor. Next they appeared to me in the form of three luminous rings which, having spun round for a certain time, settled around the same centre. After that they changed into a sort of halo or aureola around a sapphire throne. I saw the twins holding out their arms to me and pointing me to the place I should occupy between them. I tried to rise up to them, but it seemed to me at that moment as though Tanzai the mulatto was stopping me by gripping me round the waist. I was indeed very gripped by all this and as a result woke up with a start.

  It was dark in my bedroom but I saw through the chink in the door that there was a light in Zulica’s room. I heard her moan and thought that she was ill. I should have called to her but I did not. I cannot say what guilty, rash impulse led me to resort again to the keyhole. I saw Tanzai the mulatto taking liberties with Zulica’s person that froze me with horror. My eyes closed and I fell down in a faint.

  When I came round, my brother and Zulica were standing beside my bed. I gave her a withering look and told her never to appear again in my presence. My brother asked me what had caused me to be so severe. I blushingly told him what had happened to me. He replied that he had married them the previous evening and that he was very upset at not having foreseen what would happen. It was true that only my sight had been profaned, but the extreme sensitivity of the Thamim made him uneasy. As for me, the only emotion I felt was shame. I would have died rather than look in the mirror.

  My brother did not know the nature of my relations with the Thamim but he knew that I was no longer a stranger to them, and, seeing me sinking into a sort of melancholy, he feared that I would neglect the exercises I had begun. When the sun was on the point of leaving the sign of Gemini he thought it was his duty to warn me. I woke as from a dream. I trembled at the thought of not seeing my gods again, of being separated from them for eleven months without even knowing what they thought of me or whether I had made myself wholly unworthy of their attention.

  I decided to go to a high-ceilinged room in the castle where there was a ten-foot-high Venetian mirror. So as not to lose countenance, I took with me a volume of the works of Edris, which included his poem on the creation of the world. I sat down a very long way from the mirror and began to read aloud.

  Then I broke off my reading and, raising my voice, ventured to ask the Thamim whether they had witnessed these marvels. At that the Venetian mirror left the wall to which it was attached and positioned itself in front of me. I saw the Gemini smile at me with an air of satisfaction, and both nodded to indicate to me that they had indeed been present at the creation of the world and that it had all happened just as Edris had described it.

  I then grew bolder. I shut my book, and looked into the eyes of my divine lovers. This moment of abandonment nearly cost me dear. I was still too close to common humanity to be able to endure such intimate communication. The heavenly flame which shone in their eyes threatened to consume me. I lowered my gaze and, when I had recovered a little, continued to read aloud. But I happened to turn to the second canto in which this poet of poets describes the loves of the sons of Elohim for the daughters of mortals. Today it is impossible to imagine the ways of love in the first age of the earth. The exaggerated descriptions which I scarcely understood made me hesitate again and again. At those moments my eyes were instinctively drawn to the mirror and I thought that I could see the Thamim taking an increasingly great pleasure from the reading. They stretched out their arms to me and came close to my chair. I saw the shining wings at their shoulders unfold and even detected a slight fluttering in those which girded them. I thought that they were going to spread these too and covered up my eyes with my hand. Just then I felt a kiss on that hand and on the other, which held the book. Also at the same instant I heard the mirror shatter into a thousand pieces. I realized that the sun had left the sign of Gemini and that they had taken their leave of me in this way.

  The next day I noticed in another mirror something like two shadows, or rather a faint outline of my divine lovers’ forms. The day after, I saw nothing. To while away the tedium caused by their absence I spent my nights in the observatory where, with my eyes glued to the telescope, I followed my lovers until they set. Even when they had dropped below the horizon I still thought I could see them. When finally the tail of Cancer disappeared from sight I retired to bed myself, and my bed was often wet with involuntary tears which I shed for no reason. Meanwhile, filled with love and hope, my brother devoted himself more than ever to the study of the occult sciences. One day he came to me and said that from certain signs he had seen in the heavens he had learned that a famous adept, who for two hundred years had been living in the pyramid of Soufi, had left for America and that he would pass through Córdoba on the twenty-third day of our month Thybi2 at 7.42 precisely.

  I went that evening to the observatory and found him to be right. But my calculations produced a slightly different result. My brother insisted that his own were right and, as he is very confident in his opinions, he decided to go himself to Córdoba to prove to me that he was right and I was wrong. My brother could have made the journey in as little time as I take
in relating it to you. But he wanted to enjoy the pleasures of the excursion and followed the contours of the hills, having chosen a route with the most attractive views to afford him delight as he went along. He reached the Venta Quemada by this route. For company he had taken Nemrael with him, that evil spirit who appeared to me in the cave. He told him to bring him supper. Nemrael stole the meal of a Benedictine prior and brought it to the venta. Then my brother sent Nemrael back to me, having no more need of him. At that moment I was in the observatory and saw signs in the heavens which made me tremble for my brother. I ordered Nemrael to return to the inn and not to leave his master’s side. He set off, but came back a moment later to tell me that he had been prevented from entering the inn by a power greater than his own. My anxiety reached new heights, but at last I saw you arrive with my brother.

  I detected in your features an assurance and a serenity which proved to me that you were not a cabbalist. My father had predicted that I would suffer greatly at the hands of a mortal. I feared that you were that mortal, but soon other worries occupied my mind. My brother told me what had happened to Pacheco and what had befallen him. But he added, to my great surprise, that he did not know with what sort of demons he had been dealing. We waited for nightfall with great impatience. When night came we uttered the most fearsome spells, but in vain. We were not able to determine the nature of these two beings nor whether my brother had lost his right to immortality through them. I thought that we might be able to obtain some enlightenment from you but you refused to say anything, bound by some promise or other.

  Then, in order to help my brother and to calm his anxieties, I decided myself to spend the night at the Venta Quemada. I set out yesterday and didn’t reach the entrance to the valley until long after nightfall. I brought together some swirls of vapour which I formed into a will-o’-the-wisp and I ordered it to guide me. This is a secret which has been kept in our family. Using similar means Moses, the blood-brother of my seventy-third times great-grandfather, produced the pillar of fire which led the Israelites through the desert.

  My will-o’-the-wisp grew very bright and moved ahead of me to guide me, but it did not take the shortest route. I noticed this act of disobedience but did not pay enough attention to it.

  It was midnight when I reached the venta. As I came into the courtyard I saw light in the middle room and heard melodious music. I sat on a stone seat and performed some cabbalistic exercises, which had no effect whatsoever. It is true that the music charmed and delighted me to such a degree that as I speak to you now I do not know whether my exercises were correctly performed, and I suppose that I must have left out some essential element. But I believed then I had performed them correctly. Deducing that there were neither demons nor spirits in the inn, I reached the conclusion that there were only men there and gave myself over to the pleasure of hearing them sing. There were two voices accompanied by a stringed instrument. They were so perfectly in tune and so harmonious an ensemble that no earthly music could compare with theirs.

  The airs sung by these voices inspired a tenderness so alluring that I cannot describe it. For a long time I remained on my seat, listening to them. But in the end I had to go in, having come for that sole purpose. I went up the stairs. In the middle room I found two young gentlemen, both tall and handsome, sitting at table, eating, drinking and singing lustily. Their dress was oriental: they wore turbans, their chests and arms were bare, and they had costly weapons in their belts.

  The two strangers, whom I took to be Turks, rose, drew up a chair for me, filled my plate and then my glass and started singing again to the accompaniment of a theorbo, which they took it in turns to play.

  Their easy manner was infectious. They did not stand on ceremony, so neither did I. I was hungry, so I ate. There was no water, so I drank wine. Then the fancy took me to sing with the young Turks, who seemed to listen to me with delight. I sang a Spanish seguidilla. They replied, using the same rhythm and the same theme.

  I asked them where they had learnt Spanish.

  One of them replied, ‘We were born in Morea and are sailors by profession. We have found it easy to learn the language of the ports we visit. But enough of seguidillas. Listen to the songs of our native land.’

  What can I say, Alphonse? Their songs had tunes which drew from the soul every nuance of feeling. Just when they had moved you almost to extremes of tenderness, an unexpected twist in the music would restore you to the most wanton merriment.

  I was not fooled by this performance. On inspecting these bogus sailors closely it struck me that they were remarkably like each other and remarkably like my own divine twins.

  ‘So you are Turks born in Morea?’ I said to them.

  ‘Not at all,’ replied the one who had as yet not spoken. ‘We are Greeks born in Sparta of the same egg.’

  ‘Of the same egg?’

  ‘Ah, divine Rebecca,’ said the other. ‘How can you fail to recognize us? I am Pollux and this is my brother.’

  I jumped up from my chair and fled to a corner of the room. The supposed twins took on the form in which they appeared in the mirror and spread their wings. I felt myself borne aloft, but by a happy inspiration I uttered a sacred name which only my brother and I of all cabbalists know. At the same instant I was thrown back to earth. My fall made me lose consciousness. Your kind offices restored it to me. An intuition that I trust tells me that I have not lost what it was most important for me to preserve intact. But I have grown tired of such marvels. Oh divine twins, I am not worthy of you, I feel it! I was born to remain a mere mortal!

  Rebecca ended her story at this point, and my first thought was that she had been making fun of me throughout, and that her only aim had been to take advantage of my credulity. I took my leave of her without ceremony and started to reflect on what she had told me. ‘Either this woman is in league with the Gomelez to test me and convert me to Islam,’ I said to myself, ‘or else she has some other motive for extracting from me my cousins’ secret. Or else they are demons. Or else if they are acting on the orders of the Gomelez…’ I was still going over these conjectures in my mind when I caught sight of Rebecca drawing circles in the air and performing other magical hocus-pocus. A moment later she came over to me and said, ‘I have let my brother know where I am, so he is sure to be here by this evening. While we wait, let’s go and join the gypsies in their camp.’

  She boldly leant on my arm, and we soon rejoined the old gypsy chief, who greeted the Jewess with many marks of respect. Throughout the whole day Rebecca behaved very naturally and seemed to have forgotten all about the occult sciences. Her brother arrived before nightfall. They went off together and I went to bed. Once there, I thought again about Rebecca’s story. I think it was the first time I had heard talk of the cabbala, of genii, and of celestial signs. In what I had heard, there was nothing concrete I could find to disagree with, and so I fell asleep in a state of perplexity.

  The Fifteenth Day

  I awoke quite early and went for a walk to while away the time before breakfast. Some way off, I caught sight of the cabbalist and his sister, who seemed to be having a somewhat heated exchange. I turned aside from my path, not wishing to interrupt them, but soon saw the cabbalist disappearing in the direction of the camp and Rebecca hurrying towards me. In a few paces I was by her side and we continued our walk with scarcely a word between us.

  At last the fair Israelite broke the silence and said, ‘Señor Alphonse, I am going to tell you a secret which will not leave you unmoved if you have any interest at all in my fate. I have just decided to give up studying the cabbala. I spent last night thinking hard about this. What is the vain immortality worth which my father wanted to confer on me? Are we not all immortal? Are we not all bound for the heavenly dwellings of the just? I want to live this short life to the full. I want to spend it with a husband, not in the company of two stars. I want children; I want to see the children of my children and then, tired and sated with living, I want to fall asleep in their arms and
fly to the bosom of Abraham. What do you think of my plan?’

  ‘I approve of it very much,’ I replied to Rebecca, ‘but what does your brother have to say about it?’

  ‘He was furious at first,’ she admitted, ‘but in the end he promised me that if he was forced to give up all hope of Solomon’s daughters, he would do the same. He will wait until the sun has entered the sign of Virgo and then will make his decision. Meanwhile he wants to know who the vampires are who tricked him in the venta, whose names, according to him, are Emina and Zubeida. He has given up all thought of questioning you about them, because he claims that you don’t know any more than he does. But this evening he plans to summon up the Wandering Jew, whom you saw at the hermit’s house. He hopes to obtain some information from him.’

  As Rebecca reached this point in what she was saying, we were met by others, to be told that breakfast was ready. It had been laid out in a spacious cave into which the tents had also been brought, because the sky was beginning to cloud over. In no time, we heard the storm break. Seeing that we were condemned to spend the rest of the day in the cave, I asked the old gypsy chief to continue with his story, which he did as follows:

  THE GYPSY CHIEF’S STORY CONTINUED

  You remember, Señor Alphonse, the story of the Principessa di Monte Salerno, which was related by Romati. Well, I told you how great an impression she had made on me. Once we had lain down to sleep, the bedchamber was lit only by the dim light of a lamp. I did not dare to look into the darkest corners of the room, and was especially careful to avoid casting my eyes on a certain chest in which the innkeeper habitually kept his supplies of barley. I was afraid at any moment that I would see the princess’s six skeletons emerging from it. I buried my head under the blankets to avoid seeing anything and soon fell asleep.