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QUATRE CONTES DE PROSPER M?RIM?E

EDITED WITH INTRODUCTION, NOTES, AND VOCABULARY

F.C.L. VAN STEENDEREN, PH.D.

Lake Forest University

NEW YORK HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY

PREFACE This edition is intended for beginners in high-schools as well as colleges. Since every instructor has his own views and methods in the matter of making the reading yield grammatical instruction, no remarks on grammar, or references to grammars, have been attempted. In order to accustom the student to the use of a dictionary, to obviate the necessity of his looking in two places for information, and to save space, the linguistic matter which usually comprises the bulk of notes has been included in the vocabulary, and the remaining material of the notes has been placed at the bottom of the page.

The inclusion of "Le Coup de pistolet, traduit de Pouchkine" as one of the "Quatre Contes de Prosper M?rim?e" needs no apology, since M?rim?e's version of the story is so individualized, that it has from all points of view the value of an original production.

Thanks are due Mr. Stephen H. Bush, of the Department of French in the University of Iowa, for aid in the reading of the proof-sheets.

F.C.L.v.S.

IOWA CITY, IA.

May 1, 1902.

INTRODUCTION

M?rim?e's early home and school training emphasized and developed three characteristics of his nature, the first of which had to do with his feelings, the second with his mind, and the third with his will.

When he was five years old, it happened that he was sent away from his mother's studio as a punishment for some misbehavior. Once outside, he began to beg pardon in tones of genuine repentance. His mother did not answer. Finally, he opened the door and dragged himself on his knees towards her, supplicating so pathetically that she burst out--laughing. Then, suddenly, he arose and in an altered tone cried out: "Well, if you make fun of me, I shall never beg pardon again!" Afterwards at school, at the Coll?ge Henri IV, he was teased and made fun of by his fellows on account of his timidity, awkwardness and the effeminate elegance of his dress. This sort of experience, aided by his natural temperament, gradually led to the concealment of his feelings. Though his voluminous correspondence, published after his death, reveals a sensitive nature, his habitual attitude towards the emotions ultimately became one of indifference and even cynicism.

He fared better in the education of his mental faculties. His parents' home was a calm retreat where thought, judgment and refinement had their abode, and the noise of mob and cannon and politics scarcely penetrated. It was an artists' home, frequented by artists, English as well as French. Here was leisure and disposition to consider the value of an idea. And here was laid the foundation of that varied education of which he gives evidence in the many-sidedness of his interests and of his literary activity.

But although this quiet life in the society of artists and scholars, quite shut in from the world of politics, was conducive to the development of a refined mind, it is evident that participation in events would have been better for the development of M?rim?e's will. Besides, he was humored at home, was not put to definite and perhaps disagreeable tasks. Another unfavorable influence was the reaction--after Waterloo--from the extreme energy of Napoleonic times, bringing about in France a general feeling of lassitude and vague fear. This may explain to some extent why M?rim?e very rarely gave himself completely to a cause and why he appeared to the world as a sceptic and a dilettante.

We must think then of M?rim?e as a man of exceptionally complex and refined mind, capable of deep feeling, but rarely showing it, and strongly inclined towards dilettantism.

M?rim?e began his literary career in 1825 with the publication of a collection of eight short plays after the Spanish manner, the "Th??tre de Clara Gazul, com?dienne espagnole", for which he borrowed a sub-title: "Collection des th??tres ?trangers", from a collection of foreign dramas edited by Ladvocat. He prefaced the plays with a "Notice sur Clara Gazul", signed: Joseph L'Estrange, who was supposed to be the editor of them. In 1827 he continued this vein of clever imitation under the cloak of fictitious editorship in "La Guzla, choix de po?sies illyriques recueillies dans la Dalmatie, la Bosnie, la Croatie et l'Herz?govina." This book consisted of twenty-eight ballads in prose form and an article on Hyacinthe Maglanovich, a fictitious Slavic bard and the supposed editor of them. These ballads and those plays looked so genuine that even men of international reputation in literature were deceived. One of M?rim?e's objects with these two books was a silent, satirical comment on the too loudly proclaimed efficacy of certain romantic tenets, especially the assertion that scenes should be laid in surroundings remote in time and place, and that the local color of these surroundings should be minutely studied and described. In 1840 he writes that with five or six Illyrian words and two pedantic little books he improvised "La Guzla" in two weeks. And further: "From that day on I was disgusted with local color, seeing how easy it was to fabricate it." Of course, this statement should in the first place be regarded as polemical and as a sly hit perhaps at Victor Hugo. For M?rim?e's literary output is a triumph for the cause of local color. What he meant, and illustrates in his work, is that local color and remoteness in time and place are secondary to treatment and style, and that he regarded the romantic treatment and style as exaggerated and bombastic. After "La Guzla" he soon shows that Beyle's ideas have "singularly colored" his own, though not to the extent of affecting his originality. He attempts themes more closely allied to France and to his own time, choosing from a number of possible features the salient, the most striking feature, and though sometimes choosing themes that are strange and weird in themselves, avoiding sensational treatment of them. "Mateo Falcone", "L'Enl?vement de la redoute", "Tamango" , "La partie de trictrac", "Le vase ?trusque" , and "La double m?prise" , are examples of realistic, not of romantic, treatment.

All the critics agree that these short stories are masterpieces which will remain classics. They contain no lengthy descriptions. There are no reflections, dissertations or explanations in them. They bring out in relief only the permanent features of a given situation, features interesting and intelligible to men of other ages and climes. They are lucid and well constructed. Their plots turn about a simple action with unique effect. Their style is alert, urbane, discreet, and rich, seeking its effect only through concrete and simple means. They deal but very slightly with lyrical emotion, they deal with passions and the will.

M?rim?e reached his climax in 1840 with "Colomba". Sainte-Beuve calls it a perfect story and points out various analogies between Sophocles' "Electra" and M?rim?e's heroine. It was published in book form in 1841, together with the "V?nus d'Ille" and "Les Ames du purgatoire", which had, like "Colomba", first appeared in the "Revue des Deux Mondes", the former in 1837 and the latter in 1834. As the days of romanticism become numbered, M?rim?e ceases his original production. In 1846, with the publication of a volume containing "Carmen", "Ars?ne Guillot" and "L'Abb? Aubain", he takes leave of the novel-reading public, and when twenty years later he takes up his pen again with "La chambre bleue" and "Lokis", the first of which was written in 1866 for the empress and the second of which first appeared in the "Revue des Deux Mondes" in 1869, the author shows no longer the faultlessness of "L'Enl?vement de la redoute" or of "Colomba".

If it is impossible to do justice to M?rim?e's purely literary work in a short introduction, it is evident that it is out of the question even to touch upon his historical work, or on his numerous reports as Inspector General of Public Monuments, or on the great number of his prefaces and articles on history, archaeology, art, architecture, ceramics, travel and literature. Neither can anything but a bare mention be made of his large correspondence, which has been so important a factor in a truer study of M?rim?e. One matter should, however, be brought out here. Though he fails to appreciate Russian mystic feeling and melancholy, though he enters only into those elements of Russian literature which are like himself and appeal to him, he deserves credit for having been practically the first to introduce that literature to France. The immediate results of M?rim?e's studies in Russian are articles on Nicolas Gogol , on Alexander Pushkin and on Ivan Turgenieff , the last of which is a preface to a translation by one Augustin Galitzin of that author's "Fum?e" of which M?rim?e had, besides, corrected the proof-sheets. Further translations were: "La Dame de pique", "Les Boh?miens", "Le Hussard" , and "Le Coup de pistolet" , from Pushkin; "L'Inspecteur g?n?ral" from Gogol's "Revisor". It goes without saying that translations by an artist of M?rim?e's caliber have from the stylistic point of view the value of original stories.

Sorrow over the Franco-Prussian war hastened his end. His death, which, in 1869, had been erroneously announced in all the newspapers of Europe, passed unnoticed amid the loud crash of the downfall of the second empire.

MATEO FALCONE

Si vous avez tu? un homme, allez dans le maquis de Porto-Vecchio, et vous y vivrez en s?ret?, avec un bon fusil, de la poudre et des balles; n'oubliez pas un manteau brun garni d'un capuchon, qui sert de couverture et de matelas. Les bergers vous donnent du lait, du fromage et des ch?taignes, et vous n'aurez rien ? craindre de la justice ou des parents du mort, si ce n'est quand il vous faudra descendre ? la ville pour y renouveler vos munitions.

Mateo Falcone, quand j'?tais en Corse en 18..., avait sa maison ? une demi-lieue de ce maquis. C'?tait un homme assez riche pour le pays; vivant noblement, c'est-?-dire sans rien faire, du produit de ses troupeaux, que des bergers, esp?ces de nomades, menaient pa?tre ?? et l? sur les montagnes. Lorsque je le vis, deux ann?es apr?s l'?v?nement que je vais raconter, il me parut ?g? de cinquante ans tout au plus. Figurez-vous un homme petit mais robuste, avec des cheveux cr?pus, noirs comme le jais, un nez aquilin, les l?vres minces, les yeux grands et vifs, et un teint couleur de revers de botte. Son habilet? au tir du fusil passait pour extraordinaire, m?me dans son pays, o? il y a tant de bons tireurs. Par exemple, Mateo n'aurait jamais tir? sur un mouflon avec des chevrotines; mais, ? cent vingt pas, il l'abattait d'une balle dans la t?te ou dans l'?paule, ? son choix. La nuit, il se servait de ses armes aussi facilement que le jour, et l'on m'a cit? de lui ce trait d'adresse qui para?tra peut-?tre incroyable ? qui n'a pas voyag? en Corse. A quatre-vingts pas, on pla?ait une chandelle allum?e derri?re un transparent de papier, large comme une assiette. Il mettait en joue, puis on ?teignait la chandelle, et, au bout d'une minute, dans l'obscurit? la plus compl?te, il tirait et per?ait le transparent trois fois sur quatre.

Avec un m?rite aussi transcendant, Mateo Falcone s'?tait attir? une grande r?putation. On le disait aussi bon ami que dangereux ennemi: d'ailleurs serviable et faisant l'aum?ne, il vivait en paix avec tout le monde dans le district de Porto-Vecchio. Mais on contait de lui qu'? Corte, o? il avait pris femme, il s'?tait d?barrass? fort vigoureusement d'un rival qui passait pour aussi redoutable en guerre qu'en amour: du moins on attribuait ? Mateo certain coup de fusil qui surprit ce rival comme il ?tait ? se raser devant un petit miroir pendu ? sa fen?tre. L'affaire assoupie, Mateo se maria. Sa femme Giuseppa lui avait donn? d'abord trois filles , et enfin un fils, qu'il nomma Fortunato: c'?tait l'espoir de sa famille, l'h?ritier du nom. Les filles ?taient bien mari?es: leur p?re pouvait compter au besoin sur les poignards et les escopettes de ses gendres. Le fils n'avait que dix ans, mais il annon?ait d?j? d'heureuses dispositions.

Un certain jour d'automne, Mateo sortit de bonne heure avec sa femme pour aller visiter un de ses troupeaux dans une clairi?re du maquis. Le petit Fortunato voulait l'accompagner, mais la clairi?re ?tait trop loin; d'ailleurs, il fallait bien que quelqu'un rest?t pour garder la maison; le p?re refusa donc: on verra s'il n'eut pas lieu de s'en repentir.

Il s'approcha de Fortunato et lui dit:

--Tu es le fils de Mateo Falcone?

--Oui.

--Moi, je suis Gianetto Sanpiero. Je suis poursuivi par les collets jaunes. Cache-moi, car je ne puis aller plus loin.

--Et que dira mon p?re si je te cache sans sa permission?

--Il dira que tu as bien fait.

--Qui sait?

--Cache-moi vite; ils viennent.

--Attends que mon p?re soit revenu.

--Que j'attende? mal?diction! Ils seront ici dans cinq minutes. Allons, cache-moi, ou je te tue.

Fortunato lui r?pondit avec le plus grand sang-froid:

--Ton fusil est d?charg?, et il n'y a plus de cartouches dans ta carchera.

--J'ai mon stylet.

--Mais courras-tu aussi vite que moi?

Il fit un saut, et se mit hors d'atteinte.

--Tu n'es pas le fils de Mateo Falcone! Me laisseras-tu donc arr?ter devant ta maison?

L'enfant parut touch?.

--Que me donneras-tu si je te cache? dit-il en se rapprochant.

Le bandit fouilla dans une poche de cuir qui pendait ? sa ceinture, et il en tira une pi?ce de cinq francs qu'il avait r?serv?e sans doute pour acheter de la poudre. Fortunato sourit ? la vue de la pi?ce d'argent; il s'en saisit, et dit ? Gianetto:

--Ne crains rien.

Aussit?t il fit un grand trou dans un tas de foin plac? aupr?s de la maison. Gianetto s'y blottit, et l'enfant le recouvrit de mani?re ? lui laisser un peu d'air pour respirer, sans qu'il f?t possible cependant de soup?onner que ce foin cach?t un homme. Il s'avisa, de plus, d'une finesse de sauvage assez ing?nieuse. Il alla prendre une chatte et ses petits, et les ?tablit sur le tas de foin pour faire croire qu'il n'avait pas ?t? remu? depuis peu. Ensuite, remarquant des traces de sang sur le sentier pr?s de la maison, il les couvrit de poussi?re avec soin, et, cela fait, il se recoucha au soleil avec la plus grande tranquillit?.

Quelques minutes apr?s, six hommes en uniforme brun ? collet jaune, et command?s par un adjudant, ?taient devant la porte de Mateo. Cet adjudant ?tait quelque peu parent de Falcone. Il se nommait Tiodoro Gamba: c'?tait un homme actif, fort redout? des bandits dont il avait d?j? traqu? plusieurs.

--Bonjour, petit cousin, dit-il ? Fortunato en l'abordant; comme te voil? grandi! As-tu vu passer un homme tout ? l'heure?

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