Voyages to the Moon and the Sun

by Cyrano de Bergerac

"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.

"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!"