The Manuscript Found in Saragossa (57 page)

‘The many matters which I dealt with yesterday did not allow me to tell you about a dogma which is universally received among us and which enjoys even greater fame among the Greeks, thanks to the vogue given to it by Plato. I am referring to the belief in the logos or divine wisdom which we sometimes call Mander, sometimes Meth and sometimes Thoth, or persuasion.

‘There is another dogma which I want to mention to you. It was established by one of the three Thoths, called Trismegistus, or Thrice Great, because he had thought of the divinity as being divided between three great powers: God Himself, to whom he gave the name of father, the word and the spirit.

‘Such are our dogmas. As for our precepts, they are just as pure, especially for us priests. The exercise of virtue, fasting and prayer is what goes to make up our lives.

‘The vegetarian diet to which we restrict ourselves, makes the blood which flows in our veins less easily inflamed and we have less difficulty in controlling our passions. The priests of Apis abstain altogether from intercourse with women.

‘Such today is our religion. It differs from the ancient religions in several important ways, including metempsychosis, which has few adherents today although it had many followers seven hundred years ago, when Pythagoras visited our country. Our ancient mythology
also makes much of the gods of the planets, known as guardians. But today this doctrine has been left to those who cast horoscopes. As I told you, religions change like everything else in this world.

‘It only remains for me to speak to you about our holy mysteries. I will tell you all that you need to know about them. First, you can be sure that if you were initiated you would not know more about the origins of our mythology. Open the histories of Herodotus: he was initiated and boasts about it on every page; yet he investigated the origins of the gods of Greece as someone who knew no more than the common people.

‘What he calls sacred discourse has nothing to do with history. It is what the” Romans call “turpiloquens”, or speaking indecently. To every initiate a story is told which is shocking to ordinary ideas of decency. At Eleusis it is about Baubo, who received Ceres in her house. In Phrygia it is about Bacchus's loves.

‘In Egypt we believe this turpitude to be an emblem which indicates to what extent the essence of matter is vile in itself, and we learn no more than this from it. A famous consul called Cicero has just written a book on the nature of the gods.
¹
He admits that he does not know where Italy got its religious cult from. And yet he was an augur and hence initiated into all the mysteries of the Etruscan religion. The ignorance which is apparent in all works of initiates shows you that initiation does not lead us to know more about the origins of our religion. All that is indeed very ancient. On the bas-relief of Ozymandias you can see a procession of Osiris. The cult of Apis and Mnevis
²
was introduced into Egypt by Bacchus more than three thousand years ago.

‘So initiation throws no light either on the origins of religion or on the history of the gods or on the meaning of emblems; but the establishment of mysteries has none the less been very useful to mankind. The man who accuses himself of some grave fault or whose hands are sullied by murder goes to see the priests of the mysteries, confesses his sins and then is purified by baptism. Before the era of this salutary institution many men, not being able to approach, the altar, were rejected by society and became brigands.

‘In the mysteries of Mithras, the initiate is given bread and wine and this meal is called the eucharist. The sinner, reconciled with God, begins a new, more innocent life than that he had lived up till then.'

Velásquez then spoke and said, ‘Forgive me, but what he has said in this respect is very consistent with what I read in Justin Martyr, who even adds that he detected in it the evil-doing of demons, in that they imitated in advance what the Christians were to do one day. But please go on, Señor Wandering Jew.'

The Jew then picked up the thread of his story as follows:

‘And that, my young Israelite, is more or less all I can tell you about our dogmas and rites,' said the priest. ‘You see that we are not idolaters, as your prophets have accused us of being from time to time, but I confess to the belief that your religion and mine are beginning no longer to be sufficient for the nations. If we cast our eyes about us, we can see unease and the taste for novelty on every side.

‘In Palestine whole crowds are going out into the desert to listen to this new prophet who is baptizing in the Jordan. Here you can see therapeuts, healers and magi who bring together the cult of the Persians with our own. Young Apollonius goes from one town to the next with his fair hair and tries to pass himself off as Pythagoras. Street acrobats are calling themselves priests of Isis, the old cult is abandoned, the temples are deserted and there is no longer any incense burning on the altars.'

I took the Duke of Velásquez aside and said to him, ‘Let me ask your opinion on what the Wandering Jew has told us. There are things which it is not proper for us to hear and seem to me contrary to the faith which we profess.'

‘Señor Alphonse,' Velásquez replied, ‘these pious sentiments must do you honour in the eyes of any thinking person. I dare say that my faith is more philosophical than yours but it is no less fervent and pure. And the proof of this is in my system, about which I have spoken to you on several occasions and which is only a series of reflections on providence and its infinite wisdom.

‘So I believe, Señor Alphonse, that what I can hear without qualms you can listen to without scruple.'

Velásquez's reply set my mind altogether at rest and during the evening the gypsy, having nothing else to do, continued his story as follows:

‘Señor Don Roque,' I replied. ‘Please do me another service to add
to all those you have already done me, that is, not to go to the Buen Retiro gardens this evening. I think it likely that the fair Inés will not go there and even if she does she won't speak to me. But I want to go to the same bench where I saw her yesterday, to weep over my misfortunes and to sigh as much as I wish.'

Don Roque looked very grave and said, ‘Señor Don Lope, the words your lordship has just addressed to me are deeply insulting and might lead one to suppose that my devotion to you does not have the honour of being approved by you. It is true that I could, without impropriety, allow you to lament alone and weep over your misfortunes, but the fair Inés might come, and if I am not there, who will take on the task of making good your imprudence? No, Señor Don Lope, I am too devoted to you to obey you.'

Don Roque withdrew immediately after the meal. I let the heat of the day go by and then took the road to the Buen Retiro; but I made sure to hide in the usual shop. I soon saw Busqueros go by. He went to the Buen Retiro, but not finding me there retraced his steps and appeared to me to go off in the direction of the Prado. Then I left my vantage-point and went to the very place where I had experienced already so much joy and so much sadness. I sat down on the bench where I had been the day before, and shed many tears.

Suddenly I felt a tap on my shoulder. I thought it was Busqueros and turned round angrily; but whom should I see but Inés, who smiled at me with ineffable grace. She sat down next to me, told her companion to go on a little way and then spoke to me as follows:

‘My dear Soarez, I was very angry with you yesterday because I did not understand why you were speaking to me about your grandfather and great-grandfather. But I have informed myself of these things. I learnt that for a century your house has refused to have any dealings with ours, all because of grievances which, it is said, are of very small moment in themselves. But if you have difficulties on your side, I have them also on mine. My father has long since disposed of my hand and is afraid that I might have different ideas about my future than he has. He does not like me to go out often, and does not allow me to go to the Prado or the theatre at all. It is only the absolute need that I have to take the air from time to time which obliges him to let me come here with my duenna. This walk is so
little frequented that he believes that I can be seen here without any risk. My future husband is a Neapolitan gentleman called the Duke of Santa Maura. I believe that his only motive for marrying me is to enjoy my fortune and repair his own. My feelings for this party have always been very distant and since I have met you they are even more so. My father has a very decisive nature. But his younger sister, Señora de Avalos, has a great deal of influence over his mind. This dear aunt is very fond of me and she is very much against the Neapolitan duke. I have spoken about you to her, and she would like to meet you. Come with me as far as my carriage. You will find at the gate to the gardens one of Señora de Avalos's servants, who will take you to her.'

The words of the adorable Inés filled my heart with joy and I formed many sweet hopes. I followed her to her carriage and then went to her aunt's house. I had the good fortune to be approved of by Señora de Avalos. On the following days I went back at the same time and each time I encountered her niece there.

My happiness lasted six days. On the seventh, I was informed of the arrival of the Duke of Santa Maura. Señora de Avalos told me not to lose heart, and a female member of her household secretly gave me the following letter: