to the winds and stars for a prosperous voyage, we embraced on the
wharf and said farewell. In my case, because money was among the
fabulous stories of the World of the Moon whence I came and I had
practically lost all memory of it, the skipper paid himself for my
passage with the honour of having carried in his ship a man fallen from
the sky. Nothing then prevented me from proceeding to Toulouse to a
friend's house. I was burning to see him, for the joy I hoped to give
him with the recital of my adventures. I shall not be so troublesome as
to relate here all that happened on the way; I grew tired, I rested, I
was thirsty, I was hungry, I drank, and I ate among twenty or thirty
dogs which made up his pack.[49] Although I was in a very bad state,
thin and swarthy with sunburn, he did not fail to recognise me. In a
transport of joy he flung himself on my neck, kissed me more than a
hundred times, and trembling with pleasure led me into his house, where
as soon as his tears gave place to his voice he exclaimed:
"At least we live and shall live, in spite of all the accidents by
which Fortune has shaken our lives. But, Good Gods! it is not true then
that you were burned in Canada in the great firework display you had
invented? And yet two or three people worthy of credit among those who
brought me this sad news swore they had seen and touched the wooden
Bird in which you were carried off. They told me that unluckily you
had got into it at the moment it was fired and that the impetus of the
rockets burning all around carried you so high you were lost to sight.
And they vowed you were so completely consumed that when the machine
fell back only a few of your ashes were found."
[Footnote 49: Something seems to have been omitted in this sentence.]
"Those ashes", I replied, "sir, were those of the fire-works
themselves, for the fire did not hurt me in the least. The rockets were
fastened on outside and consequently their heat could not trouble me.
You know that as soon as the powder was exhausted, the swift ascent of
the rockets ceased to raise the machine, which then fell to the ground.
I saw it fall and when I expected nothing but to fall with it, I was
surprised to feel myself rising towards the Moon. But I must explain to
you the cause of an effect which you will take for a miracle.... The
day of this accident I had rubbed all my body with marrow on account of
certain bruises. But the Moon was then waning and at that period draws
up marrow; it absorbed so gluttonously the marrow rubbed on my flesh,
especially when my box rose above the middle region, where there were
no intervening clouds to weaken its influence, that my body followed
the attraction; and I protest it continued to suck me up so long that
at last I reached that world we call the Moon."
I then related at length all the details of my voyage and Monsieur de
Colignac was so ravished at hearing such extraordinary things that he
implored me to set them down in writing. I enjoy repose and therefore
resisted him for a long time, because of the visits such a publication
would probably have attracted; but at length, shamed by the reproaches
he continued to attack me with, I resolved at last to satisfy him. I
therefore took pen in hand and as soon as I finished a sheet he went to
Toulouse to vaunt it in the best company, for he was more anxious for
my reputation than his own; he was considered one of the greatest minds
of his century[50] and by making himself the indefatigable echo of my
praises he made me known to everyone. Already, without having seen me,
the engravers had cut my portrait and from every square the town echoed
with pedlars shouting at the top of their voices from hoarse throats:
"Portrait of the author of _The Voyage to the Moon_." Among those who
read my book were numerous ignoramuses who turned over its pages. To
counterfeit great wits they applauded like the others and clapped their
hands at every word, for fear of a mistake, exclaiming joyously "How
excellent he is!" at all the passages they did not understand. But
superstition disguised as conscience, whose teeth are very sharp under
a fool's shirt, so gnawed at their hearts that they preferred rather
to give up the reputation of philosophers (which suited them like
ill-fitting clothes) than to have to answer for it at the Judgment Day.
[Footnote 50: Cyrano had the true coterie spirit towards his friends.
Compare his description of poor, drunken, gambling Tristan in _The
Moon_.]
This was the other side of the question and each was then in a hurry
to recant. The work they had so highly prized was now simply a
_pot-pourri_ of ridiculous stories, a mass of disconnected fragments, a
collection of fairy tales to lull children to sleep; and those ignorant
even of syntax condemned the author to carry a candle to Saint
Mathurin.[51] This contest of opinion between the men of wit and the
idiots increased its reputation. Very soon manuscript copies were being
sold secretly.[52] Everyone, in and out of society, from the gentleman
to the monk, bought the book and the women even took sides. Each family
was divided and the interested in this quarrel went so far that the
town was divided into two factions, the Lunar and the Anti-Lunar.
[Footnote 51: Patron of madmen.]
[Footnote 52: It is thought _The Moon_ circulated in MS. before
publication; this explains the entry in Marolles's memoirs.]
We were still engaged in the skirmishes of the battle when one morning
there came into Colignac's room nine or ten grey-beards in long robes,
who spoke to him as follows:
"Sir, you know that there is not one among us who is not your relative,
your kin or your friend, and consequently that anything shameful which
happens to you falls equally upon us. And yet we are credibly informed
that you shelter a sorcerer in your house."
"A sorcerer!" cried Colignac, "Good Gods! Tell me his name. I will
deliver him into your hands; but we must take care this is not a
calumny."
"How now, sir", interrupted one of the most venerable of them, "is
there any _parlement_ so competent in the matter of sorcerers as ours?
But, my dear nephew, not to keep you any longer in suspense, the
sorcerer we accuse is the author of _The Voyage to the Moon_; he cannot
deny that he is the greatest magician in Europe after what he has
admitted himself. Why! he could only have gone to the Moon with the aid
of ... I dare not name the beast; and, tell me, what was his object in
going to the Moon?"
"Well asked", interrupted another, "he went to take part in a Witches'
Sabbath, which no doubt was held that day; and, indeed, you may see
he grew acquainted with the demon of Socrates. After this are you
surprised that, as he says himself, the Devil should have brought him
back to this world? But however that may be, so many Moons, so many
chimneys, so many travels through the air are worth nothing, nothing at
all I say; and between you and me"--at these words he placed his mouth
nearer my friend's ear--"I never saw a sorcerer but had dealings with
the Moon."
After these worthy sentiments they were silent and Colignac was so
astounded at their common extravagance that he could not say a word.
Seeing this, a venerable blockhead who had not spoken said:
"You see, cousin, we know where the shoe pinches. The magician is a
person you love, but have no fear, things will go easily with respect
to you. You have only to deliver him into our hands, and out of love
for you we pledge our honour to have him burned without scandal."
At these words Colignac could no longer restrain himself, although he
was thrusting his fists into his ribs; he burst out laughing, which
offended in no little degree the gentlemen, his relatives, to such an
extent that it was out of his power to reply to a single point of their
speech except by Ha! Ha! Ha! or Ho! Ho! Ho! so that our gentlemen,
mightily scandalized, went off so affronted that they were still
enraged when they reached Toulouse. When they had gone I drew Colignac
aside into his study and as soon as I had shut the door I said:
"Count, it seems to me these hairy ambassadors are a kind of shaggy
comets; I apprehend that the noise they broke out with is the thunder
of the storm set in motion before falling. Although their accusation
is ridiculous, and doubtless the result of their stupidity, I shall be
none the less dead when a dozen men of wit who have seen me grilled
observe that my judges are fools. All their arguments proving my
innocence will not resuscitate me and my ashes will remain as cold in
a grave as in a drain. For this reason, subject to your approval, I
should be very happy to yield to the temptation which suggests to me
that I leave nothing but my portrait in this province; for it would be
doubly annoying to die for something in which I have not the slightest
belief."
Colignac had scarcely the patience to wait for me to end before he
replied. First of all he bantered me; but when he saw I took the matter
seriously, he exclaimed with a troubled countenance:
"'Sdeath! They shall not touch the hem of your cloak until I, my
friends, my vassals and all who respect me have perished. My house
is so strong it cannot be carried without artillery; it is very
advantageously placed and well covered on the flanks. But I am mad to
guard against parchment thunders."
"Sometimes", I replied, "they are more dangerous than the thunders of
the middle region."
Thereafter, however, we spoke of nothing but our amusements. One day we
hunted, another day we took a walk, sometimes we received visitors and
sometimes we went to see others; in fine, we abandoned each amusement
before that amusement could bore us.
A neighbour of Colignac's, the Marquis de Cussan, a man who understood
the good things of life, was usually in our company and we went from
Colignac to Cussan and returned from Cussan to Colignac to render
the places we stayed at more agreeable by change. Those innocent
pleasures of which the body is capable are only a slight part of those
the mind takes in study and conversation, whereof we lacked none; and
our libraries, united like our minds, brought all the learned into
our society. We mingled reading with conversation, conversation with
good cheer, and that with fishing or hunting, when we went out; in
a word we enjoyed, so to speak, both ourselves and all that is most
agreeably produced by Nature for our use; we placed no limits to our
desires save those of reason. Meanwhile my reputation, the enemy of
my repose, circulated among the neighbouring villages and even the
towns of the province; everyone, attracted by these rumours, found
some pretext for visiting the Seigneur to see the sorcerer. When I
went out of the castle the children and women and even the men looked
upon me as upon the Devil, above all the parson of Colignac,[53] who
either from malice or ignorance was secretly the worst of my enemies.
This man was apparently simple and his gross, almost childish mind
was infinitely amusing in its _naïvetés_, but he was actually very
malicious. He was vindictive to the point of madness; a backbiter,
excelling even a Norman; and so able a trickster that trickery was
his ruling passion. After a long law-suit against his Seigneur, whom
he hated the more for having successfully resisted his attacks, he
grew afraid of his resentment and to avoid it desired to change his
benefice; but either he had changed his plan or he had simply deferred
it to avenge himself on Colignac in my person, while he remained on the
estate; for he tried to persuade us he had changed his mind although
his frequent expeditions to Toulouse made us suspect the contrary.
He circulated a thousand ridiculous tales of my sorceries, and the
voice of this malicious man joined with those of simple and ignorant
people caused my name to be held in execration; I was spoken of as no
other than a new Cornelius Agrippa, and we learned that there had even
been an information lodged against me at the suit of the _Curé_, who
had been tutor to his children. We were informed of this by several
persons friendly to Colignac and the Marquis; and although this
ignorant whimsey of a whole countryside was a matter of surprise and
merriment to us, I could not fail to be apprehensive in secret when I
considered more narrowly the unpleasant results which might follow upon
this error. Doubtless this apprehension was inspired in me by my good
genius, who enlightened my reason with all these perceptions to make me
see the precipice towards which I was falling; and, not content with
this tacit warning, showed itself still more decidedly in my favour.
[Footnote 53: Note that Cyrano's worst persecutor in this _Voyage to
the Earth_ is a country parson. See Introduction.]
One of the most disagreeable nights I had ever spent followed one of
the most agreeable days we had had at Colignac. I got up at dawn and
to throw off the apprehensions and clouds which still oppressed my
mind, I went into the garden where the green leaves, the flowers and
fruits, Art and Nature, enchanted the soul through the eyes. At the
same moment I perceived the Marquis walking alone in a large path which
cut the grass-plot in two. His step was slow and his face thoughtful.
I was very surprised to see him up so early, contrary to his custom,
and I increased my pace to ask him the reason. He replied that he had
been disturbed by some disagreeable dreams, which had forced him to
come out earlier than usual to get rid in the daylight of a trouble
the night had caused him. I confessed to him that a similar difficulty
had prevented me from sleeping, and I was about to relate it to him in
detail, but just as I opened my mouth we perceived Colignac walking
rapidly round the corner of the hedge at an angle to ours. He exclaimed
as he perceived us:
"You see a man who has just escaped the most horrible visions, the
sight of which might turn one's brain. I barely took the time to put on
my doublet when I went down to tell you about them, but neither of you
was in his room; and so I ran down to the garden, supposing you would
be there."
The poor gentleman was indeed almost out of breath, and as soon as he
had recovered it we begged him to get rid of a thing, which, however
light in one sense, does not fail to weigh heavily in another.
"That is my purpose", he replied, "but first of all let us sit down."
A jasmine-covered summer-house suitably offered us its freshness and
its seats; we retired to it and when everyone was comfortably seated
Colignac went on as follows:
"You must know that after fitful dozing, during which I felt myself
greatly troubled, I fell into another doze about dawn and dreamed that
my dear guest there was between the Marquis and myself, who held him
closely embraced, when a great black monster, composed of nothing but
heads, suddenly came to tear him from us. I even think the monster
was going to cast him into a fire kindled near-by; for it held him
suspended already over the flames. But a girl like that Muse we call
Euterpē threw herself before the knees of a woman whom she besought to
save him. This woman had the deportment and attributes used by our
painters to represent Nature. She had scarcely had time to hear the
request of her follower when she exclaimed in astonishment: 'Alas!
He is one of my friends!' Immediately she put to her mouth a kind
of trumpet and blew so hard through the tube under my dear guest's
feet that she made him fly up into the sky and so saved him from the
cruelties of the hundred-headed monster. I think I shouted after him
for a long time and besought him not to go away without me, but an
infinite number of little round angels calling themselves children of
the dawn bore me up to the same country towards which he seemed to
have flown, and showed me things I shall not repeat to you because I
consider them too ridiculous."
We begged him not to refrain from telling us.
"I imagined", he continued, "that I was in the Sun and that the Sun was
a world. I should not yet be disabused had it not been for the neighing
of my horse, which woke me and made me see I was in bed."
When the Marquis saw that Colignac had finished he said: "And what was
your dream, Monsieur Drycona?"[54]
[Footnote 54: Drycona = D. Cyrano.]
"Although mine was uncommon", I replied, "I consider it a mere empty
tale. I am bilious and melancholy and so, ever since I have been in the
world, my dreams have always been of caverns and fire. In my youth it
seemed to me when I slept that I became very light and sped up to the
clouds to avoid the rage of a band of assassins pursuing me; but after
a very long and very vigorous effort and after flying over many walls
I always met one at the foot of which I never failed to be stopped,
worn out with the strain; or else I imagined I flew straight up and
when I had swum with my arms for a long time in the sky I always found
myself near land and, contrary to all reason, without my seeming to
become either weary or heavy, my enemies had only to stretch out their
hands to seize me by the foot and to draw me to them. Ever since I
can remember all the dreams I have had have been like these, except
last night, when, after flying as usual for a long time and often
escaping from my persecutors, I seemed at last to lose sight of them
and to continue my journey with a body delivered from all weight under
a clear, very bright sky until I reached a Palace composed of heat
and light. No doubt I should have noticed many other things, but my
excitement in flying had brought me so near the edge of the bed that
I fell down beside it, with my naked belly on the floor and my eyes
wide open. This, gentlemen, was the whole of my dream, which I consider
to be simply the effect of the two qualities which predominate in my
temperament; for although this dream differs a little from those which
usually happen to me, in that I flew up to the sky without falling
back, I attribute this alteration to the diffusion of my blood by the
joy of our pleasures yesterday, and since this was more extensive
than usual it penetrated the melancholy and by uplifting it took from
it that weight which before made me fall. But, after all, this is a
science in which little can be discovered."
"Faith!" said Cussan, "you are right; it is a _pot-pourri_ of
everything we think of when we are awake, a monstrous chimera, an
assembly of confused mixtures, presented to us in disorder by our fancy
which in sleep is no longer guided by reason, and yet by twisting
them about we always think we shall squeeze out their true sense and
derive a knowledge of the future from dreams as from oracles; but, on
my faith, I see no resemblance between them, except that dreams like
oracles cannot be understood. However, you may judge the value of all
other dreams from mine, which is not in the least extraordinary. But,
without torturing my brain with explanations of these dark enigmas,
I will explain their mystic sense to you in two words: and they are,
that Colignac is a place where we have bad dreams and in my opinion we
should try to have better ones at Cussan."
"Let us go then", said the count, "since this mar-feast so wills it."
We agreed to go off that very day. I begged them to set out before me,
because I wished to take some books with me since we had agreed to stay
there a month. They assented and were in the saddle immediately after
breakfast. Meanwhile, I made up a bundle of books which I imagined were
not in the library at Cussan, placed them on a mule and set off about
three o'clock, mounted on a good trotting horse. I advanced slowly
in order to be near my little library and to enrich my soul at more
leisure with the gifts of sight.
Hearken now to a surprising adventure. I had proceeded more than four
leagues when I came to a piece of country I felt certain I had seen
somewhere else. I urged my memory so much to tell me how it was I knew
this landscape that the presence of the objects excited their images
and I remembered that this was precisely the place I had seen in a
dream the night before. This curious coincidence would have occupied
my attention for a longer time had I not been roused by a strange
apparition. A spectre--at least I took him for one--appeared before
me in the middle of the road and seized my horse by the bridle. This
phantom's height was enormous and from the little I could see of his
eyes their expression was depressed and coarse. I cannot say whether
he was ugly or handsome; a long gown made from the leaves of a book of
plain-song covered him down to his nails and his face was hidden by a
card on which was written the _In principio_.
The first words spoken by the phantom were as follows: "Satanus
Diabolas", cried he in terror, "I conjure you by the great living
God...."
At these words he hesitated. He continued to repeat his "great living
God" and with a troubled visage sought for his pastor to give him the
cue for the rest; but when he perceived that his pastor did not appear,
no matter in what direction he turned his eyes, he was seized with such
fearful trembling that half his teeth fell out with chattering and
two-thirds of the music which covered him fell off like curl-papers. He
then turned to me and said with a look neither rough nor gentle, from
which I perceived his mind was unable to resolve whether it would be
better to grow irritated or calmer:
"Ho!" said he, "Satanus Diabolas, By _Sangué_! I conjure you in the
name of God and of Master Saint John not to oppose me, for if you stir
hand or foot, Devil take me if I don't pull your guts out!"
I began to pull my horse's bridle away from him, but I was so
suffocated with laughter that I had no strength left. Add to this that
about fifty villagers emerged from behind a hedge grovelling on their
knees and making themselves hoarse by singing _Kyrie Eleison_. When
they came near, four of the strongest dipped their hands in a holy
water stoop brought on purpose by the servant of the vicarage and
seized me by the collar. I was scarcely arrested when Messire Jean[55]
appeared and devoutly taking out his stole bound me in it, whereupon a
mob of women and children sewed me into a great cloth in spite of my
resistance and I was soon so bound up that only my head was visible.
In this plight they carried me to Toulouse as if they had been taking
me to my grave. At one time one of them would exclaim that there would
have been a famine if I had not been captured, because when they met me
I was assuredly about to cast a spell upon the corn; at another time
I heard another complaining that the sheep-pox had begun in his fold
on a Sunday, when I had tapped him on the shoulder as he came out from
vespers. But above all I was tickled with a desire to laugh in spite
of my disaster by the terrified scream of a young peasant girl at her
betrothed, otherwise the Phantom, who had taken my horse (for you must
know the lout was already astride it) and was spurring it as boldly as
if it were his own.
[Footnote 55: Cyrano's eleventh satirical letter is addressed to
Messire Jean; in the MS. of the Bibl. Nat. its title is _Apotheosis of
an Ecclesiastical Buffoon_.]
"Wretch!" howled his beloved, "are you wall-eyed? Don't you see the
magician's horse is blacker than coal--it is the Devil in person to
carry you off to a Witches' Sabbath!"
Our peasant fell back in terror over the crupper and my horse took to
the fields. They debated as to whether they should seize the mule and
decided that they would. They undid the packet and the first volume
they opened chanced to be the _Physics_ of _Monsieur Descartes_. When
they perceived all the circles by which this philosopher has traced
the movement of each planet, they all with one voice bawled out that
these were the magic circles I drew to call up Beelzebub. The man who
held the book dropped it in terror and unfortunately as it fell it
opened at the page on which the action of the magnet is explained; I
say unfortunately, because at the place I speak of there is a drawing
of this metallic stone where the little bodies which detach themselves
from its mass to seize the iron are represented as arms. Hardly had
one of these fellows perceived it when I heard him roar out that this
was the toad they found in the trough of his cousin Fiacre's stable
when his horses died. At this, those who had appeared the most excited
sheathed their hands in their bosoms or regloved them in their pockets.
Messire Jean, for his part, bawled at the top of his voice not to
touch anything, that all these books were a sorcerer's and the mule a
Satan. The terrified mob then allowed the mule to go off in peace. But
I noticed master _Curé's_ servant, Mathurine, driving him towards the
parsonage stable to make sure the beast should not pollute the dead
men's grass in the graveyard.