Newsgroup: it.cultura.linguistica.inglese
Titolo: Serendipity (reprise)

Dear Realmers,
a couple of years ago I happened to first venture through
these lands in search of meaning and history of the unusual
but lovely and attractive word in subject.
A couple of days ago I found a fulfilling article by a fellow
Richard Boyle unveiling whatever a normal curious would
ever want to know about Serendip and serendipity.
As you will notice, not only the whole story has the
'intercultural' taste which characterizes the Illuminated Realm,
but it serendipitously fits to this newsgroup, too! :-)
it also has a loose reason for being my first post in 2001...!
Since I'm all but a normal curious, I would be eternally
grateful to whoever will be able to help in finding an edition
of "The Three Princes of Serendip" sooo, please: I'm in
your gracious hands
I wish you all a wonderful 2001!
Mine will be great.. :-)
Gennaro
---
«   
The Three Princes of Serendip
On the morning of January 28, 1754, an exceptional 
Englishman sat down at his desk in the library of his Gothic 
mansion, Strawberry Hill, to attend to his correspondence. It 
was a daily ritual, for the man in question was probably the 
greatest letter writer of his era, or of any other for that matter. 
On that winter's morning in Twickenham, London, he 
composed a letter in which he committed to paper for the first 
time a word that has contributed much to the English language. 
As a consequence, he resurrected a strange Oriental tale 
that would otherwise have been condemned to obscurity.  
The man in question was Horace Walpole (1717-97), fourth 
Earl of Orford, son of Prime Minister Robert Walpole, 
connoisseur, antiquarian and author of the famous Gothic 
novel, The Castle of Otranto (London, 1765). The word he 
invented was, of course, serendipity. And the tale he rescued 
from literary oblivion was The Three Princes of Serendip. 
The letter - to Horace Mann, an envoy in the service of 
King George II stationed in Florence - was written to 
acknowledge the safe arrival of a portrai
t of Bianco Capello,
a 16th century beauty and Duchess of Tuscany. This letter
is contained among the 31 volumes of Horace Walpole's Correspondence (New
Haven, 1937), edited by Wilmarth
Sheldon Lewis.
It was in 1980 at a London library that I first accessed Horace
Walpole's Correspondence in order to delve into the history
and derivation of the word serendipity. The Index gave two
references. Number one was to the letter in which Walpole
made first written usage of the word, for Walpole infers that
he coined it beforehand. It is necessary to quote this letter
almost in its entirety to provide the precise context of the
word's usage.
"The head," Walpole writes of the portrait, "is painted equal to
Titian, and though done, I suppose, after the clock had struck
five and thirty, yet she retains a great share of beauty. I have
bespoken a frame for her, with the grand ducal coronet on
top, her story on a label at the bottom, which Gray is to
compose in Latin as short and expressive as Tacitus (one is
lucky when one can bespeak and have executed such
an inscription!) the Medici arms on one side, and the
Capello's on the other. I must tell you a critical
discovery of mine apropos: in an old book of Venetian arms,
there are two coats of Capello, who from their name bear a
hat, on one of them is added a flower-de-luce on a blue ball,
which I am persuaded was given to the family by the Great
Duke, in consideration of this alliance; the Medicis you
know bore a badge at the top of their arms; this discovery I
made by a talisman, which Mr Chute calls the sortes
Walpolianae, by which I find everything I want a point
nomme wherever I dip for it. This discovery indeed is almost
of that kind which I call serendipity, a very expressive word,
which as I have nothing better to tell you, I shall endeavour
to explain to you: you will understand it better by the
derivation than by the definition. I once read a silly
fairy tale called The Three Princes of Serendip: as their
highnesses travelled, they were always making
discoveries, by accident and sagacity, of things which they
were not in quest of: for instance, one of them discovered
that a mule blind of the right eye had travelled the same
road lately, because the grass was eaten only on the left
side, where it was worse than on the right - now do you
understand serendipity? One of the most remarkable
instances of this accidental sagacity (for you must observe
that no discovery of a thing you are looking for comes
under this description) was of my Lord Shaftsbury, who
happening to dine at Lord Chancellor Clarendon's,
found out the marriage of the Duke or York and Mrs Hyde,
by the respect with which her mother treated her at
table."
On reading Walpole's description of the process of
serendipity - "They were always making discoveries, by
accident and sagacity, of things they were not in quest
of" - it becomes evident that the example cited is not suited
to the coiner's definition. The ineptness of this example,
and the further one that Walpole cites with reference
to Lord Shaftsbury, fail to illustrate the grand concept of
serendipity.
I found the second reference to serendipity in Horace
Walpole's Correspondence to be a footnote to a sentence
in a letter to the social reformer and religious writer, Hannah
More. The pertinent sentence from the letter, dated
September 10, 1789, reads: "Nor is there any harm in
starting new game to invention; many discoveries have been
made by men who were a la chasse of something very
different." The editor comments in the footnote to this sentence,
"Horace Walpole coined the word 'serendipity' to describe
this process: see Horace Walpole to Mann January 28,
1754."
Personal experiences of such a nature can be culled at will
and need not be bothered with here. What is most significant
is that history reveals many examples of accidental and
sagacious discovery while in pursuit of something else.
Christopher Colo mbus' discovery of America, Alexander
Fleming's discovery of penicillin, and Alfred Bernard
Nobel's discovery of dynamite, are just a few examples.
Of course numerous writers - including myself - have tried
to link the Island of Serendip with the serendipitous
experience, but most of these attempts have been contrived.
There are exceptions, however. Take John Barth, for
example, who writes in his extraordinary retelling of the
Sindbad saga in Serendip, The Last Voyage of
Somebody the Sailor (New York, 1992):
"You don't reach Serendip by plotting a course for it. You
have to set out in good faith for elsewhere and lose
your bearings serendipitously."
It was not until the late 1980s that the bibliographer H.A.I.
(Ian) Goonetileke informed me of the existence of a seminal
book on the subject titled Serendipity and the Three Princes:
From the Peregrinaggio of 1557 (University of Oklahoma
Press, Norman: 1964). Edited by Theodore G. Remer,
this work contains a definitive etymology of the word
serendipity, the history of The Three Princes of Serendip,
and the first direct English translation of the tale. Having
ascertained there was no copy to be found in any of the
major public libraries in Sri Lanka (and, I suspect, in
any private library), I asked an American friend to unearth
one in the United States. Several years went by and
nothing transpired. Then one day my faith in him was
rewarded when he arrived in Sri Lanka with a photocopy
of the book.
My first task on reading it was to make two further copies. One
I sent to Ian Goonetileke, knowing that this was one book not
to be found in his library, although he had, of course,
encountered it in years gone by while engaged in his
bibliographical labours. The other I sent to Arthur C.
Clarke, as he had touched on the subject of serendipity in
his autobiographical writings concerning Sri Lanka but had
never had the opportunity of reading the tale.
I received a letter from Ian Goonetileke dated June 9, 1997
thanking me for his copy. As those who know Ian are all too
aware, he is the Horace Walpole of Sri Lanka, a prolific
and fastidious writer of letters. I quote the relevant section of
his letter in full, because it not only mentions his first
encounter with the book, but also provides an indication of
his skill with correspondence.
"In a day of unusual tedium and ensuing diminution of
mood, serendipity presented itself in both unexpected
and curious fashion," Ian writes. "Along with a letter from
our Ambassador in Washington there was a dirty brown
piece of postal advice saying a 'damaged registered letter'
for me had to be collected from the Athurugiriya Post Office.
After lunch my wife's niece's husband got on his push-bike
and returned in half an hour with two torn pieces
(originally constituting a white envelope with its Rs 16.00
stamp) and the virgin white copy of Remer's Serendipity.
It produced an even greater sensation of accidental
discovery than 30 years earlier when I asked at the famous
round Reading Room of the British Museum for Remer's
volume - and was totally absorbed. Since that calculated act
of detection, this afternoon's joy was undiluted, and I did not
let go of the copy till I had virtually read it in one sitting,
and darkness set in. What an assiduous and arduous chase!
The gift provided an ecstatic experience of a kind only too
familiar and frequent in a past crammed with such
happenings."
As I have mentioned before, The Three Princes of Serendip
was published in Venice in 1557 by an enterprising printer
called Michele Tramezzino. That Tramezzino was
well-respected can be judged by the fact that the book
bears the imprimatur of Pope Julius III. The title page of
The Three Princes of Serendip claims that one Christoforo
Armeno translated the book from Persian into Italian, but there
are serious doubts as to whether Armeno ever existed, except
in the fertile mind of Michele Tramezzino. Most likely
Tramezzino was himself the compiler of the various tales,
which were probably of ancient origin, mostly Indian.
It has been suggested that Tramezzino used Serendip in the
title of his book not only because it imparted an exotic flavour,
but also because the island was topical in 1555 when the book
was being compiled. News was seeping through from Rome
that the Spanish Jesuit Francis Xavier (who was canonized
in 1622) had introduced Christianity to the island a few
years earlier. As Sir James Emerson Tennent reports in
Ceylon (London, 1859), "It was by the fisher-caste of Mannar
that he was invited to Ceylon in 1544." For devout Venetians,
this represented a victory for God and the Church, a victory
in a strange and far-off land variously known as Ceilao,
Zeylan, Taprobane, and Serendip.
"In ancient times there existed in the country of Serendippo,
in the Far East, a great and powerful king by the name of
Giaffer. He had three sons who were very dear to him. And
being a good father and very concerned about their
education, he decided that he had to leave them endowed
not only with great power, but also with all kinds of virtues
of which princes are particularly in need."
So begins the fascinating story of The Three Princes of
Serendip. In order to provide the best tutors for his sons,
the king travels throughout the island until he finds a
number of scholars, each specialized in a different
field, "And to them he entrusted the training of his sons,
with the understanding that the best they could do for him
was to teach them in such a way that they could be
immediately recognized as his very own."
As the three princes are endowed with great intelligence,
they soon become highly trained in the arts and
sciences.
However, when the tutors inform the king of his sons'
achievements, he is sceptical. So he summons his eldest
son and announces that he wishes to retire to a monastery
and that his son should succeed him as ruler. The
eldest son politely refuses, insisting that his father is wiser
and should reign until his death. The two younger sons also
refuse when commanded in a similar manner.
Although the king is astonished by the wisdom displayed
by his sons, he decides to send them on a prolonged
journey so that they can acquire empirical experience.
He summons his sons and, giving the impression of being
angry and disappointed because they have all
disobeyed him, banishes them from Serendip. "Thus
they started their peregrination and moved out of his
kingdom until they reached the kingdom of a great and
powerful emperor, whose name was Beramo."
Misfortune befalls the princes when a camel driver stops
them on the road and asks them if they have seen one of
his camels. Although they have not, they have noticed
signs that suggest a camel has passed along the road.
Ever ready to dazzle with their wit and sagacity, the
princes mystify the camel driver by asking him if the lost
camel is blind in one eye, missing a tooth and lame.
The camel driver, impressed by the accuracy of the
description, immediately hurries off in pursuit of the
animal.
After a fruitless search, and feeling deceived, he returns
to the princes, who reassure him by supplying further
information. The camel, they say, carried a load of butter
on one side and honey on the other, and was ridden
by a pregnant woman.
Concluding that the princes have stolen the camel, the driver
has them imprisoned. It is only after the driver's neighbour
finds the camel that they are released.
The princes are brought before Emperor Beramo, who
asks them how they could give such an accurate description
of a camel they had never seen. It is clear from the princes'
reply that they had brilliantly interpreted the scant
evidence observed along the road.
As the grass had been eaten on one side of the road where
it was less verdant, the princes deduced that the camel
was blind to the other side.
Because there were lumps of chewed grass on the road the
size of a camel's tooth, presumably they had fallen through
the gap left by a missing tooth.
The tracks showed the prints of only three feet, the fourth
being dragged, indicating that the animal was lame.
That butter was carried on one side of the camel and honey
on the other was clear because ants had been attracted
to melted butter on one side of the road and flies to spilled
honey on the other.
The deduction regarding the pregnant rider is more
complicated than the rest and is somewhat lewd, so I shall
let the princes tell it themselves: "I guessed that the camel
must have carried a woman," said the second brother,
"because I had noticed that near the tracks where the animal
had knelt down the imprint of a foot was visible. Because
some urine was near by, I wet my fingers (in it) and as a
reaction to its odour I felt a sort of carnal concupiscence,
which convinced me that the imprint was of a woman's
foot."
"I guessed that the same woman must have been pregnant,"
said the third, "because I had noticed nearby handprints
which were indicative that the woman, being pregnant,
had helped herself up with her hands while urinating."
Although Walpole mistakenly believed it to concern a mule, it
is of course this camel episode that he latched onto as an
example of serendipity, inadequate though it may be.
»
(Richard Boyle)
---
"HAL: I am putting myself to the fullest possible use, which is all I
think that any conscious entity can ever hope to do."
(2001: A Space Odissey)
--
Per rispondere eliminare ".HELL" dall'indirizzo.
To reply remove ".HELL" from the end of the address.
------

I would like to thank you so very much for
finding this fairy tale for me. I can't believe
it only took seconds. I shall return. a very
gratful 
wido...@yahoo.com
. side, and the

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