by Jan Potocki
Later I had another occasion to write to him and I received a second letter, in which he told me how charmed he was by my mind. And indeed I did all I could to cultivate my wit and intellect. I was helped in this by la Girona’s intelligence, which is very great. I had just completed my fifteenth year when I wrote this second letter.
I was sixteen when one day I heard from my father’s study a commotion in the street and what sounded like the cheers of an assembled crowd. I ran to the window. I saw many excited people triumphantly accompanying a gilded coach on which I recognized the arms of Sidonia. A crowd of hidalgos1 and pages rushed to the coach doors and I saw a very handsome man step down. He was dressed in the Castilian fashion, which our court had just given up, that is to say, he wore a ruff, a short coat and a plume. What set off this beautiful costume was the diamond-studded fleece which he wore on his breast.
‘It’s him!’ cried my father. ‘I knew he would come!’
I withdrew to my apartment and did not see the duke until the following day. But thereafter I saw him every day, for he did not leave my father’s house.
The duke had been recalled on very important business. It was necessary to quell violent unrest, which had been caused by the imposition of new taxes in Aragon. This kingdom had its own constitutions, among which is that of the Ricos Hombres, who were once the equivalent of what Castile called grandees. The Dukes of Sidonia were the oldest of the Ricos Hombres, which alone would have earned the duke great respect, but he was also loved for his personal qualities. The duke went to Saragossa and was able to reconcile the interests of the court with the wishes of the Aragonese. He was allowed to choose a reward, and he asked for permission to breathe the air of his native land for a short while.
The duke, who was by nature very straightforward, did not hide the fact that he took pleasure in conversing with me. We were nearly always together while the other friends of my father resolved matters of state. Sidonia admitted to me that he was very jealous by nature and even sometimes violent. Usually he spoke to me about himself or about myself. When this sort of conversation becomes habitual between a man and a woman their relationship soon becomes intimate, so I was not surprised when my father called me into his study to tell me that the duke had asked for my hand in marriage.
I replied that I would not ask him for time for reflection, because I had foreseen that the duke might show a lively interest in the daughter of his friend, and I had thought in advance about his character and the difference in age between us. ‘But Spanish grandees intermarry,’ I added. ‘How will they look on our union? They might go so far as to refuse the familiar form of address to the duke, which is the first sign of their disapproval.’
‘That is an objection I myself made to the duke,’ said my father. ‘He replied that all he asked for was your consent. The rest was his affair.’
Sidonia was not far away. He put in a timid appearance, which contrasted with his natural pride. I was touched by this and I did not keep him waiting too long for my consent. I made two people happy thereby, for my father was more pleased than I can tell you. La Girona was wild with joy.
The next day the duke invited all the grandees then in Madrid to dinner. When they were all present he asked them to sit down and spoke to them as follows:
‘Alba, I shall address myself to you since I look upon you as the first among us, not because your house is more famous than mine but out of respect for the hero whose name you bear.2
‘A presumption among us which does us honour requires us to choose our wives from the daughters of grandees, and without doubt I would despise anyone among us who entered into a mésalliance out of motives of wealth or lust.
‘The case I wish to place before you is very different. You know that Asturians say that they are as noble as the king and even a bit more so. However exaggerated this expression may be, their titles mostly antedate the Moors and they have the right to look upon themselves as the highest noblemen in Europe.
‘Well, the purest blood of Asturias flows in the veins of Leonor de Val Florida. In her it is combined with the rarest virtues. I maintain that such an alliance cannot but bring honour to the house of a Spanish grandee. If anyone is of a different opinion let him pick up this glove, which I now throw down in the midst of this assembly.’
‘I shall pick it up,’ said the Duke of Alba, addressing Sidonia by the familiar form of address, ‘but it is only to give it back to you and to compliment you on so noble a union.’
He then kissed him, as did all the other grandees. When he told me of this scene my father said somewhat sadly to me:
‘That’s the Sidonia I knew of old, with his notions of chivalry. Be careful not to offend him, Leonor!’
I confess to you that I had in my character a tendency towards pride, but this haughty love of grandeur left me as soon as it was satisfied. I became the Duchess of Sidonia and my heart was full of the sweetest feelings. In private life the duke was the most amiable of men because he was the most affectionate. His kindness was unfailing, his benevolence steadfast, his love constant. His angelic soul was reflected in his features. Only on occasions when some severe emotion changed them did they take on a terrifying aspect which made me tremble. Then, without wishing to, I saw in him the murderer of van Berg. But few things were able to upset Sidonia, and everything about me was able to make him happy. He loved to see me talking and doing things. He guessed the least of my thoughts. I did not think that his love for me could possibly be greater, but the birth of a daughter increased his affection and crowned our happiness.
The day I rose from my confinement, la Girona said to me, ‘My dear Leonor, you are a married woman and a happy mother. You have no further need for me. Duty calls me to America.’
I wanted her to stay.
‘No,’ she said. ‘My presence there is necessary.’
La Girona went away and took with her all the happiness I had till then enjoyed. I have described to you this short period of heavenly felicity, which could not last, because apparently so much good fortune is not meant for this world. I haven’t the strength today to tell you about my misfortunes. Farewell, young friend. Tomorrow you will see me again.
The story of the young duchess interested me deeply. I wanted to know how it continued, and to learn how so much happiness could change into such awful adversity. While I pondered on this, I thought also of what la Girona had said about my having to stay for two years in the vault. That wasn’t what I had in mind at all and I set about preparing some means of escape.
The duchess brought me my provisions. Her eyes were red, and she looked as though she had wept a great deal. She told me, however, that she felt strong enough to tell me the story of her misfortunes. This is how she carried on:
I have told you that la Girona held the post of duenna mayor. She was replaced by a certain Doña Menzia, a thirty-year-old woman who was still quite pretty and whose mind was not altogether uncultivated, which from time to time earned her a place in our society. On those occasions she would behave as though she was in love with my husband. I only laughed at this, and he paid no attention to it. Otherwise la Menzia sought to please me and especially to get to know me well. Often she would bring the conversation round to frivolous topics or she told me the gossip of the town. More than once I was obliged to tell her to be silent.
I had breast-fed my daughter and was fortunate enough to wean her before the events which I still have to relate to you. My first misfortune was the death of my father. He suffered an attack of an acute and violent illness and died in my arms, giving me his blessing and little foreseeing any of what was going to happen to us.
There were uprisings in Biscay. The duke was dispatched there. I accompanied him as far as Burgos. We had estates in all the Spanish provinces, and houses in nearly all Spanish cities. But in Burgos the Dukes of Sidonia had only a country house about a league outside the city, the very house where you now are. The duke left me there with all his retinue and went away to his destinat
ion. One day, on returning home, I heard a commotion in the courtyard. I was told that a thief had been discovered; he had been knocked out by being hit on the head with a stone, but he was a young man more handsome than had ever been seen before.
Some valets carried him to where I was standing. I recognized Hermosito.
‘Heavens!’ I cried. ‘This is no thief, but a young man from Asturias who was brought up in my grandfather’s house.’
I then turned to the major-domo and told him to take him in and look after him carefully. I even think I said that he was la Girona’s son, but I don’t have a clear memory of having said so.
The next day Doña Menzia told me that the young man was feverish and that in his delirium he spoke a great deal about me in very passionate terms.
I replied to Doña Menzia that if she continued to speak to me in such a way I would have her dismissed.
‘We’ll see about that!’ she replied. I ordered her then not to appear again in my presence.
The next day she sent word to me asking to be forgiven. She came and threw herself at my feet. I forgave her.
A week later, as I was alone, I saw la Menzia come in supporting Hermosito, who seemed extremely weak.
‘You commanded me to come,’ he said in a faint voice.
I gave la Menzia a surprised glance, but I did not want to upset la Girona’s son, so I had a chair set down for him a few paces from me.
‘My dear Hermosito,’ I said. ‘Your mother has never mentioned your name to me. I would like to know what has happened to you since we were separated.’
Hermosito found difficulty in speaking but he made a great effort and spoke as follows:
HERMOSITO’S STORY
When I saw our ship set sail I lost all hope of seeing the shores of my native land again and deplored the severity that my mother had displayed in banishing me, while being unable to understand the reasons for it. I had been told that I was your servant and I served you as zealously as I was able. I had never disobeyed you. ‘Why then,’ I asked myself, ‘drive me away as though I had committed the gravest of faults?’ The more I thought about it, the less I was able to understand it.
On the fifth day of our voyage we found ourselves in the middle of Don Fernando Arudez’s squadron. We were told to steer to the stern of the admiral’s vessel, where there was a gilded balcony decked out with flags of many colours. There I saw Don Fernando with the resplendent chains of several orders around his neck. Officers stood around him respectfully. He had a loudhailer in his hand, and asked us several questions about our encounters at sea before ordering us on our way. Once we had passed, the captain said to me, ‘There’s a marqués. But he began life like that ship’s boy over there who is sweeping the cabin.’
As Hermosito reached this point in his story he repeatedly cast embarrassed glances at la Menzia. I thought him to be indicating that he was afraid of talking about himself in her company. So I asked her to leave. In doing this I thought only of my friendship for la Girona. The idea that I would be suspected of anything did not even enter my mind. When la Menzia had gone out Hermosito continued as follows:
I believe, Señora, that being nourished from the same springs as you were, my soul was formed in sympathy with yours. It cannot think except of you and through you. Everything which touches it relates to you. The captain told me that Don Fernando had become a marqués, having begun as a ship’s boy. I remembered that you were a marquesa. It seemed to me that nothing could be finer than to become a marqués and I asked how Don Fernando had set about it. The captain explained that he had risen from one rank to the next, distinguishing himself by heroic deeds. From that moment on I decided to become a sailor, and I practised climbing the rigging. The captain in whose care I had been placed tried his best to stop me, but I resisted him and by the time we arrived in Vera Cruz I was not a bad sailor.
My father’s house was by the sea. We reached it by longboat. My father received me surrounded by a group of young mulatto girls, whom he made me embrace one after the other. They danced for me and acted provocatively in many other ways. The evening was spent in great frivolity.
The next day the corregidor of Vera Cruz had my father told that if one lived in the style he did, one did not keep one’s son at home, and that he had to send me to the Theatine college. My father obeyed, albeit reluctantly.
I found a teacher at the college who, in order to encourage us to study, told us often that the Marqués de Campo Salez, then second secretary of state, had like us begun life as a poor student, and that he owed his good fortune to his hard work. On learning that one could become a marqués by this means, I studied with great fervour for two years.
The corregidor of Vera Cruz was replaced. His successor had less rigid principles. My father thought that he could risk taking me back again.
Once again I found myself prey to the exuberance of the young mulatto girls, which my father encouraged in every conceivable way. I was far from pleased at this frivolity, but they instructed me in many things of which I had been ignorant up to then, and I realized at last why I had been banished from Asturias.
At the same time a most ominous change occurred in me. New emotions grew in my heart and revived in me the memory of the games I played when little. The thought of the happiness I had lost at the gardens of Astorgas in which I had run about with you, the hazy recollection of a thousand proofs of your kindness: too many enemies assaulted my frail sanity all at once and neither it nor my health were able to resist them. The doctors said that I had a wasting fever. As for me, I did not believe myself to be ill but the turmoil of my senses was such that I often believed that I could see things that were not in front of my eyes and that had no reality. It was you, Señora, who appeared most often to my deluded imagination; not as you are today but more or less as you were when I left you. At night I would wake up with a start and you would seem to pierce the darkness, and appear shining and radiant before me. If I went out the sounds of the countryside seemed to repeat your name again and again.
Sometimes you seemed to cross the plain before my eyes. If I looked at the heavens to beg that my torment cease, I saw there your image imprinted on the sky.
I discovered that I suffered less in churches and that prayer brought me relief above all else. I ended by spending whole days in these devout refuges. A monk whose hair had turned white in the practice of penance accosted me one day and said, ‘Oh my son, your heart is full of an immense love which is not meant for this world. Come to my cell. I will show you the way to paradise.’
I followed him to his cell and saw hair shirts and other instruments of martyrdom, which did not frighten me much. I was suffering from a quite different pain. The monk read to me several passages from the lives of the saints. I asked him to let me take the book away and I read it all night. My head filled with new thoughts. In a dream I saw the heavens open and I saw angels who all looked rather like you, as a matter of fact.
News of your marriage to the Duke of Sidonia then reached Vera Cruz. For some time I had been thinking of devoting myself to the religious life. I found happiness in praying night and day for your felicity in this world and your salvation in the next. My devout teacher told me that in the monasteries of America there had been much relaxation of the rule and he advised me to undertake my noviciate in a monastery in Madrid.
I let my father know of my resolve. He had always frowned on my devotions, but not wanting to dissuade me from them openly he asked me to await the arrival of my mother, which was shortly due. I told him that I no longer had parents in this world and that heaven was now my family. To this he had no reply. Then I went to see the corregidor, who approved of my plans and embarked me on the next ship. On arriving in Bilbao I learnt that my mother had set sail for America. My letters of obedience were for Madrid. I set out on that road. In passing through Burgos, I learnt that you were residing not far from the city. I decided to see you for one last time before leaving the world. It seemed to me that, having seen you, I
would be able to pray for your salvation with even greater fervour.
So I took the road to your country house. I entered the outer courtyard and decided to look for an old retainer, one of those whom you had in Astorgas for I knew that they had not left you. I wanted to make myself known to the first one who came by, and ask him to find me a place from which I could see you as you stepped into your carriage. For I wanted to see you, not to introduce myself to you.
The only people who came by were unknown to me and I began to feel ashamed at being there. I went into a quite empty room, then I thought I saw someone I knew go by. I went out and was knocked down by a blow from a stone… But Señora, I see that my story has made a deep impression on you…
‘I can assure you,’ said the duchess, ‘that Hermosito’s devout ramblings had only inspired me with pity.’ She then continued as follows:
But when he had spoken of the gardens of Astorgas, and of my childhood games, the memory of the past, the thoughts of my present happiness, a sudden fear for the future and a vague feeling of sad melancholy had weighed down my heart and I found myself bathed in my own tears.
Hermosito got up and I thought that he wanted to kiss the hem of my dress. His knees buckled under him. His head fell on my knees and his arms held me in a strong embrace. At that moment I looked into a mirror in which I saw la Menzia and the duke; his features wore an expression of rage which was so frightening that it was hard to recognize him.
My senses froze in horror. I looked again into the same mirror and saw nothing. I freed myself from Hermosito’s arms and cried out. La Menzia came. I ordered her to look after the young man and withdrew into a study. The vision I had seen caused me deep worry but I was assured that the duke was absent.
