Geographical Society of Paris in 1824, affords on the other hand
the strongest corresponding proof that it is an original and not a
Translation. Rude as is the language of the manuscript (Fr. 1116,
formerly No. 7367, of Paris Library), it is, in the correctness of the
proper names, and the intelligible exhibition of the itineraries, much
superior to any form of the Work previously published.
The language is very peculiar. We are obliged to call it French, but it
is not “Frenche of Paris.” “Its style,” says Paulin Paris, “is about as
like that of good French authors of the age, as in our day the natural
accent of a German, an Englishman, or an Italian, is like that of a
citizen of Paris or Blois.” The author is at war with all the practices
of French grammar; subject and object, numbers, moods, and tenses, are
in consummate confusion. Even readers of his own day must at times
have been fain to guess his meaning. Italian words are constantly
introduced, either quite in the crude or rudely Gallicized.[5] And
words also, we may add, sometimes slip in which appear to be purely
Oriental, just as is apt to happen with Anglo-Indians in these days.[6]
All this is perfectly consistent with the supposition that we have
in this MS. a copy at least of the original words as written down
by Rusticiano a Tuscan, from the dictation of Marco an Orientalized
Venetian, in French, a language foreign to both.
But the character of the language _as French_ is not its only
peculiarity. There is in the style, apart from grammar or vocabulary, a
rude angularity, a rough dramatism like that of oral narrative; there
is a want of proportion in the style of different parts, now over curt,
now diffuse and wordy, with at times even a hammering reiteration; a
constant recurrence of pet colloquial phrases (in which, however, other
literary works of the age partake); a frequent change in the spelling
of the same proper names, even when recurring within a few lines, as if
caught by ear only; a literal following to and fro of the hesitations
of the narrator; a more general use of the third person in speaking
of the Traveller, but an occasional lapse into the first. All these
characteristics are strikingly indicative of the unrevised product of
dictation, and many of them would _necessarily_ disappear either in
translation or in a revised copy.
Of changes in representing the same proper name, take as an example
that of the Kaan of Persia whom Polo calls _Quiacatu_ (Kaikhátú), but
also _Acatu, Catu_, and the like.
As an example of the literal following of dictation take the following:—
“Let us leave Rosia, and I will tell you about the Great Sea (the
Euxine), and what provinces and nations lie round about it, all
in detail; and we will begin with Constantinople—First, however,
I should tell you about a province, etc.... There is nothing more
worth mentioning, so I will speak of other subjects,—but there is
one thing more to tell you about Rosia that I had forgotten.... Now
then let us speak of the Great Sea as I was about to do. To be sure
many merchants and others have been here, but still there are many
again who know nothing about it, so it will be well to include it
in our Book. We will do so then, and let us begin first with the
Strait of Constantinople.
“At the Straits leading into the Great Sea, on the West Side, there
is a hill called the Faro.—But since beginning on this matter I
have changed my mind, because so many people know all about it, so
we will not put it in our description but go on to something else.”
(See vol. ii. p. 487 _seqq._)
And so on.
As a specimen of tautology and hammering reiteration the following
can scarcely be surpassed. The Traveller is speaking of the _Chughi_,
_i.e._ the Indian Jogis:—
“And there are among them certain devotees, called _Chughi_; these
are longer-lived than the other people, for they live from 150 to
200 years; and yet they are so hale of body that they can go and
come wheresoever they please, and do all the service needed for
their monastery or their idols, and do it just as well as if they
were younger; and that comes of the great abstinence that they
practise, in eating little food and only what is wholesome; for
they use to eat rice and milk more than anything else. And again I
tell you that these Chughi who live such a long time as I have told
you, do also eat what I am going to tell you, and you will think
it a great matter. For I tell you that they take quicksilver and
sulphur, and mix them together, and make a drink of them, and then
they drink this, and they say that it adds to their life; and in
fact they do live much longer for it; and I tell you that they do
this twice every month. And let me tell you that these people use
this drink from their infancy in order to live longer, and without
fail those who live so long as I have told you use this drink of
sulphur and quicksilver.” (See G. T. p. 213.)
Such talk as this does not survive the solvent of translation; and
we may be certain that we have here the nearest approach to the
Traveller’s reminiscences as they were taken down from his lips in the
prison of Genoa.
[Sidenote: Conclusive proof that the Old French Text is the source of
all the others.]