Prince Zazaraph was afraid that I might eventually be inconvenienced by that, and in order to ward off the danger he proposed a change of air to me.
“In any case,” he added, “you have nothing in particular to see here any longer, and everything you don’t yet know about Romancia is to be found elsewhere, in all the other regions as well as this one. You can inform yourself equally of everything that merits your curiosity, except for differences that I’ll point out to you when it’s worth the trouble.”
I accepted the proposal immediately, and in order to make our journey we each climbed on to a huge saddled and bridled grasshopper; those mounts, gentler but less rapid than hippogriffs, scarcely make two or three leagues per jump, with the consequence that they only cover two or three hundred leagues a day, but that is sufficient when one is not in a hurry.
In that regard, I ought to recount how people travel in Romancia.
IX. Vehicles and Voyages
There is a country in the world that is said to be the most convenient for travel because one finds highways everywhere and good inns, but it appears that those who believe that have never traveled in Romancia. I shall not mention, however, the admirable comfort of ancient vehicles, when an enchanted boat came to pick you up from the sea-shore, ornamented with red flames and a flame-colored flag, to take you in less than two hours more than half way around the world, or when one had only to mount the rump of a centaur or the back of a griffin that would transport you in an instant beyond the Caspian Sea, into the grottoes of Mount Caucasus, in order to rescue a princess abducted by the giant Coxigrus,27 who wanted to force her to suffer horrible caresses. As the heroes of today are not of the same stripe as those of old, it has been necessary to change the old methods, and only to send them overland, or in a good ship, and those ships no longer know the ocean.
Nevertheless, all the advantages and charms that it has been possible to preserve from the old method of traveling have been retained; it is only necessary, before setting out on campaign, to be given Romancian letters in due form. For example, two men leave Peking to go to Ispahan, or Paris to go to Madrid; one, on departure, has take good Romancian letters of exchange; the other, unfortunately, has not. What happens?
One will simply make his journey, perhaps going all around the world, without the slightest adventure happening to him; it will always be necessary for him to dine at inns at his own expense, only too glad to have found one; he will be wet, fatigued, muddy, ill, ready to die without aid; he will only find companies of ridiculous or tedious individuals; not a single beauty will fall in love with him, and he will not have the slightest singular encounter that he can recount on his return; in brief, he will come back as he went.
Instead of which a prince, the son of the Caliph Scha-Schild-Ro-Cam-Full, a Knight of the White Rose, or a Marquis de Rochenoire, once equipped with good Romancian letters, encounters the most singular things in the world at every step. Wherever he lodges, he will turn the heads of all the ladies and princesses in the vicinity; he is a true firebrand of amour, who will cause a general conflagration everywhere. Of rain or bad weather there is never any question. His Sedan chair breaks sometimes, and sometimes he gets lost in a wood far from the highway, although the guide who has lost him knows full well what he is doing; it is at exactly the right moment to rescue, at his choice, either a cavalier attacked by assassins or a young woman who finds herself about to be torn apart by a wild boar in the course of a hunt; he is immediately conducted to a castle that is not far away, and from all that he proceeds to new adventures.
At any rate, although he takes care to conceal his real name, in order that ill-advised people mistake him for an adventurer, because of the virtue of his Romancian letters he is welcomed everywhere, caressed and pampered like a divinity; even princes want to see him; he has no sooner said four words to them than he enters into their intimate confidence, and nothing important happens of which he is not a part. In a word, I find that fashion of traveling so agreeable and so reliable that I cannot understand how anyone can resolve to leave home, even if he only has four or five leagues to travel, without furnishing himself with Romancian letters.
One can even take another very advantageous precaution, which is to take with one, on the faith of voyagers, a good list of princes and lords with whom one can lodge, at their example, in the various places where one wants to travel, for in Romancia there are several of those lists printed for the convenience of travelers, and I will gladly give a specimen here, according to a celebrated traveler.28
Here goes. If, for example, you go to Spain, you will infallibly be well-received:
In Madrid, by the Count of Ribaguora, a grandee of Spain aged forty-five who has very good manners, receives good company at his home and likes horses, dogs and the French; or at the home of the Duke of Los Grabos, the former governor of Peru, where he amassed immense wealth of which he loves to do the honors, and who has the convenience that, as soon as he sees a good-looking foreigner whose name is the Chevalier de Roquefort or the Comte de Belle-Forêt, he acquires such an amity for him that he can no longer do without him.
In Toledo, in the home of the Marquis de Tordesillas, who is extremely amiable and whose two daughters are the most beautiful young women in Span, the object of the tender prayers of all the most brilliant Spanish nobility, although a young foreigner who can present himself to them with good grace cannot fail to capture the heart of one of them, especially Doña Diana, who is the more amiable; however, if it is necessary for the intrigue to finish because the young traveler has business elsewhere, Doña Diana will die of the plague or in some other, more honest, fashion, if any can be imagined.
In Saragossa, in the home of Don Felix Cartijo, a gentleman who has had a few adventures, which he will recount immediately in order to serve as an episode in the story of the voyage, and as there inevitably other people in his house who will also narrate theirs, that will gradually furnish the material for a volume of the right size,
That little specimen suffices to give some idea of the aforementioned lists, and there is no need to extend it further. But one thing about which it is necessary to warn voyagers, and, in general, all Romancian heroes, is that they must have a good memory, in order to remember all those with whom, since the beginning, they have had some particular liaison, or who have commenced the story of their adventures without being able to finish it; for it would be extremely indecent of them to forget those people and not to make any further mention of them. A voyager might say that his has left them in China or the depths of Tartary, but it is necessary that he go to find them or that they come to find him, even if it is at the extremities of Japan; in brief, it is necessary to have them fall from the clouds rather than lack them. The Turks, in particular, are religious in regard to that article, and I know one of them who, in order to rejoin his man, made the journey from Amasie to Holland expressly.29 I have been as scrupulous as that myself, in that, having lost my horse, as you have seen, on the eve of my entry to Romancia, I did not fail to find it again on my emergence from the country, as you will see in due course.
There is, however, one means of getting rid promptly of the importunate individuals who intervene in a story and with whom one does not know what to do, and that is to kill them immediately or let them die of disease. To tell the truth, though, that expedient is odious, and one is bound to disapprove of voyagers who cause too many people to die inhumanely.
With regard to memory, however, I perceive that I am only talking about myself and forgetting that I had a companion who ought have shared with me the story that I have just told. I beg my reader’ pardon and I will repair my fault in the next chapter. It is, however, as well to warn you that we Romancian writers knew nothing about the beautiful rules that Lucian and so many others have given for the writing of history, for the reason that we have a special privilege to write anything that comes to mind without taking the trouble of what are generally called order, planning, method, precision or plausibili
ty, neither that which ought to follow nor that which ought to precede, inasmuch as we always have the date of events at our disposal, in order to advance it or recede it as we please; that causes me to admire the precaution that one of our modern annalists has taken of putting at the head of his history a reasoned preface,30 in order to justify very seriously the facts that he reports, as if one did not know that in the capacity of a Romancian annalist he has the right to say the most implausible things without being criticized for it.
X. On the thirty-six preliminary formalities
that ought to precede proposals of marriage.
While the great paladin of Dondindandia and I were traveling by air, well-mounted on or giant grasshoppers, he asked me whether I had the design of choosing some beautiful princess of Romancia in order to make her my wife.
“Of course,” I said, “and that was part of the reason that prompted me to make the voyage.”
“I suspected as much,” he said, “all the more so as it would be difficult for you to see all the beauties with whom the land is populated without your heart declaring itself for one of them. But dispose yourself to be patient and don’t waste time, for the treaty is long between the day when one begins to love and the one when one marries.”
“It’s true,” I told him, “that the delays have sometimes made me impatient in the adventures of Théagène,31 Cyrus, Cleopatra and several others. But can’t I abridge the formalities…?”
“So,” the replied, “you’d only like it to be one chapter of the Thousand-and-One Nights or Chinese Tales? No, Prince, people of our condition, above all, ought to do things in accordance with the great rules, and pass through all the ranks of the amorous militia. It is, however, sometimes permitted to abridge the time. But since we’re on the subject, it’s appropriate to give you advance notice of the principal laws that it’s necessary to observe in this matter. Those are what are known as the preliminary formalities. There are some who estimate that there are thirty-six of them, or more, but I’ll explain them to you without bothering to count them.
“You understand, of course, that it’s necessary to commence by falling in love. Now, that is very pleasant, for one is sometimes in love for an entire year without knowing it, and it’s not unknown for a man not even to suspect it. If his gaze has paused on a person, it is without design, and if he finds her extremely amiable, his sentiments are limited to esteem and admiration; at the most, he believes that he only has amity for her. It’s true that he desires to see her often and that he has particular attentions for her, and that he is not sorry to perceive that she has for him, but in his opinion all that signifies nothing; it’s only a commerce of politeness, a liaison, an ordinary inclination into which amour doesn’t enter.
“Finally, however, he says to himself: ‘What’s happened to me lately? I perceive that my slumber is disturbed; it seems to me that I’m becoming distracted and melancholy. I’m losing my usual joviality. What once pleased me is beginning to bore me, what I liked the most now appears insipid.’ ‘Perhaps you’re ill,’ someone says to him who in unfamiliar with Romancian usages. ‘No,’ he replies, ‘it’s something else.’ He’s right, for those are precisely the first formalities of amorous pursuit.
“At first, he is astonished. ‘Me, in love?’ he says. ‘Me, who has never loved anyone! Me, who has braved all the arrows of Amour! Me, who, until now, has seen all beauties with impunity!’ But no matter how hard he tries to hide it from himself, his sighs give him away; anxiety, dread, hope and transports put him on the right track. It’s necessary to admit it with a good grace, and he finally admits it.”
“It seems to me however,” I said to Prince Zazaraph, “that I’ve seen many heroes who don’t take as long to be aware of their condition, and suddenly fall madly in love at the first sight of a princess.”
“That’s true,” he said, “and it’s even the most Romancian manner, but after all, they gain nothing by it, for it’s still necessary, unless they obtain a special dispensation, for them to wait at least a year before making known the secret fire that is consuming them. In any case, it’s necessary not to forget another essential formality, which is that it’s necessary for the beauty who has triumphed over the hero’s indifference to have a distinguished name. For if, unfortunately, she is called Beatrix, Lisette or Colombine, that would disfigure the whole of a romance, whereas, when she is called Rosalinde, Julie, Hyacinthe or Florimonde, those fine names, always accompanied by suitable epithets, have a marvelous effect.
“Another formality, which embellishes a story infinitely, is when the amorous hero, far from being able to flatter himself that he will ever possess the object he adores, in view of the disproportion of his condition, dare not even make his declaration to the beautiful eyes that have enchained his liberty—although it’s true that he is, in fact, very highly-born, and the legitimate heir of a great kingdom, as will be verified when the time comes. It’s certain, too, that the princess adores him in the depths of her heart, and secretly curses the eminent rank that takes away the hope of ever marrying such a perfect knight; but on the one hand, the knight is unaware of his birth, and the princess, who is also unaware of it, cannot listen with decorum even if he has the audacity to explain himself. Now, that makes an admirable situation, which furnishes material for the most beautiful sentiments, so our annalists have turned it over and over in a hundred different fashions.
“You see, then,” the great paladin continued,” that the formalities take much longer than you think, but that’s only the beginning. The great difficulty consists of declaring one’s passion. For how do you do it? Are you going to say frankly to a beautiful woman that you find her charming, adorable, that you love her with the most tender and respectful amour, and that you would believe yourself the most fortunate of men to be able to possess her for the rest of your days? Refrain carefully from doing that; it would cause her to die of chagrin, and she would not pardon you as long as she lived.
“It is, of course, necessary to make her understand it; but it is necessary to do so with so much precaution and so gently that she almost doesn’t perceive it. It’s necessary that she divine it, or, at the most, that she has a slight suspicion of it. The language of the eyes is admirable for that, when one makes use of it and takes one’s time. For example, the beauty is at her window or on her balcony, where she is taking the air. Prowl around without seeming to be doing anything, and when you’re within range, favor her with a respectful bow, accompanied by a glance that is half-vivid and half-dying. You’ll see that you’ll only have to do that ten or a dozen times before she begins to suspect something, for it is necessary not to think that beauties are unintelligent. The majority understand very well what is said to them, and often even what is not said to them, and, of a hundred glances in their direction, they will not lose a single syllable.”
“But,” I said in my turn, “to that first means could one not add a second, which is that of serenades sung during the night under the windows of the object of one’s desire?”
“What’s that you say?” replied the prince, smiling. “The object of one’s desires! Very good, you’re beginning to form a fine style. Continue, please.”
“I was saying that I believed that a concert of voices and instruments under the windows of the beauty whose chains one bears appears to me to be a rather good expedient for insinuating melodiously the tender sentiments that one has for her.”
“It’s true,” he retorted, “but the expedient is scarcely to my taste, because it is subject to too many inconveniences. Firstly, it’s necessary to let the whole quarter know that Amour is on campaign, which redoubles the vigilance of fathers and mothers, duennas and spies. Secondly, it’s only necessary to spoil the fête for a jealous brute who arrives in the middle of the music to strike you with a sword-thrust, often without you even being able to see the blow coming. I know that you’ll kill your man—that’s the rule—but it can cause a great embarrassment even so. The affair blows up; the dead man al
ways belongs to a powerful and accredited family; he’s usually an only son. It’s necessary to hide and flee. During a long absence, many misfortunes can occur. In a word, I tremble every time I see a lover delivering nocturnal serenades to his beauty. The slightest misfortune one has to fear is only getting out of it with a dangerous wound.”
“Admit, though, that when one has been run through by a sword and one isn’t in danger of dying therefrom, that it’s a great boon to know that the beauty for whom one has exposed oneself to danger seems touched by such a great misfortune.”
“You’re right,” replied Prince Zazaraph, “there is no balm in the world that has such a prompt virtue, and in that case, I’ll answer for the wounded man soon being on his feet. But once again, that means appears to me to hazardous, and there are simpler ones. A letter, for example, four well-turned lines, can be a marvelous aid. One slips the note adroitly into the pocket of the beautiful Julie, or drops it at her feet, as if by mistake, in order to excite her curiosity; or, if one can’t do otherwise, one has it given to her by an assiduous person.
“Once that step is taken, it’s necessary to count the affair as well under way. The lover is nevertheless anxious about the success of his note. Has she read it? Has she thrown it away? What sentiment has she experienced in reading it? That is because he is still inexperienced, for it’s true, in general, that there are beauties too reserved, who sometime have difficulty in receiving and reading a letter, but the reserve on that occasion would be entirely out of place, and it would even be ridiculous not to respond favorably to the note, which gives the lover great hope, for that is one of the most indispensable formalities in the preliminaries about which we’re talking, and I’ve never seen it lacking.
“It is then, finally,” the prince continued, “that one begins to breathe. It is then that Amour commences to appear the most amiable and the most charming god on Olympus. How many thanks, prayers and offerings on makes him then! But it is necessary that he continue his work. It’s not enough that the charming Clorine or the adorable Florise has allowed it to be known that she is not insensible; it’s necessary that the amorous comte or marquis has the assurance of it from her own mouth. But will he be able to sustain such an excess of joy? No, he’ll faint. What am I saying? He’d die of it, if it were permitted to him to die so soon. But as that would be against the rules, it’s necessary that he be content to fall at the feet of the ultimate beauty, speechless and so transported that all he can do is to stick his lips to the beautiful hand of the light of his life.
Funestine and Other Adventures in Romancia Page 15