From the notebook 2, something Zifar.

I wondered today whether or not it was strange that the Zifar, which for the most part appears to run authorless, has a very authoritative voice. I am not certain how seriously I ought to take the suggestion in the prologue that the work can be emended. The passage surely could be interpreted as an invitation for readers, especially those particularly capable, to make changes:

Pero esta obra es fecha so emienda de aquellos que la quisieren emendar, e çertas dévenlo fazer los que quiseren e la sopieren emendar, siquier porque dize la escriptura que sotilmente la cosa fecha emienda más de loar es que el que primeramente la falló (56).

If we are to believe it, at what points would changes be welcomed? The affirmations (or invitations?) throughout of e dize el cuento, cuenta la estoria, así como se cuenta en el libro de la estoria, are places of curiosity: one might think that these, which could be seen as reminders to the reader that he is indeed reading a new version of a old story, i.e. to reinforce the fact that he is reading a translation, could at the same time solicit invention, should the reader know something contrary to the text in front of him. While it seems acceptable, idyllic even, that the Zifar was a translation intended to be modified, to be a community work, the product of “aquellos que la quisieren emendar,” particularly those who know how to do it, it seems simple to suspect that all parts of the Zifar are equally emendable. This is a type of optimism that doesn’t convince me.

We might also ask if it possible to maintain the authority of the source of this new translation, to emphasize its Eastern origin, and to ask for amendments. Is Zifar’s advice to his sons, which itself draws heavily on the Flores de filosofía, features anecdotes and exempla which appear in countless other texts as open to change as, for example, the description of the Lady of the Lake and her aquatic city? The question, then, becomes not whether the text is able to maintain authority without its attachment to a particular author (because it certainly appears to do so), but how, exactly, and from where its authority comes. Neither does the answer to the question of exactly what can be emended resolved in an attempt to separate, however futile the attempt might be, the prescriptive from the descriptive parts of the narrative. Another related question might be this one: how does the easy recognition of source texts in determined places in the narrative and the presentation of the book as a translation affect its authority? Is this why, in part, that Chrétien is so interested in his conjointure, because he knew that there, in his putting together, rested his best argument for originality?

Who is in charge of this book? In questions of authority, if they are worth anything at all, and having only two testimonies, we might be better off going with the story itself: more specifically, the philosophy that it communicates through the adventures, stories, and characters.

The natural philosophy invoked in the last passage is curious. I immediately, perhaps without much cause, wondered how the last passage relates to destiny. God is certainly present in every moment of the text. Countless examples, with Zifar, his wife and sons illustrate the direct relationship between faith in God and success. Yet, exactly how God, free will and also destiny fit together, is perhaps more confusing. The ladies of the Ínsolas dotadas give their interpretation of how these pieces come together as they explain to Roboán just how he arrived at their curious place:

Señor—dixieron las donzellas,—la vuestra buena ventura fue, que anda conbusco guardándovos, e enderesçando e guiando la vuestra fazienda de bien en major. E nuestro señor Dios, al que vos tomastes por guiador quando vos despedistes del rey vuestro padre e de la reina veustra madre, vos quiso enderesçar e guiar a este logar donde avedes de ser señor…” (386).

Zifar and Roboán are successful because they choose, out of their free will, to put God first. God supports them in their deeds and adventures that in turn, win them honor. But what about destiny? Without support of God nothing good would happen. Yet I have yet to understand exactly what is made and given (but not given freely) here.

How much of their success, their recovery and betterment of their lineage is due to what was meant to become all along, after having accepted God? Do their deeds then, start to stand out less and less, becoming primarily, or all part of a chain of natural movement?

Onde dize el filósofo que el movimiento forçado más estruerçe en el comienço que en el acabamiento e el movimiento natural ha lo contrario de aquel que es fecho por fuerça, ca el natural comiençó de vagar e vase esforçando toda vía más fasta el acabamiento, e así acaba su fecho conplidamente. E por ende devemos rogar a Dios que él por la su santa piedad quiera que començemos nuestros fechos con movimiento natural e acabemos tales obras que sean a serviçio de Dios e a pro e a onra de nuestros cuerpos e a salvamiento de nuestras almas. Amén (435).

Surely we couldn’t emend just anything, too much and we’d do violence to the text and its theory and (natural movement).