Fantastic Stories

 Fantastic Stories – Alexandre Dumas.

(2015-03-01) Wanting to read something by Alexandre Dumas—specifically, those writings by the author that are less well-known than his classics—I acquired a small book titled Fantastic Stories (Historias Fantásticas). It is a 260-page book published in 2007. The cover illustration is a detail from the artwork Zeus and the Gods of Olympus by Giulio Romano (1499–1546). This work is the upper section of another piece called The Fall of Giants, a fresco located entirely in the Hall of Giants at the Palazzo Te in Mantua, Italy.

The translation for this edition is by Mauro Armiño, as the original work was written in French. The book was published by the publishing house Punto de Lectura, whose website is http://www.puntodelectura.com/, and the first pages of the book can be accessed at the following link: http://www.puntodelectura.com/uploads/ficheros/libro/primeras-paginas/200610/primeras-paginas-fantasticas.pdf.

On the final page, there is a section titled Notes. It literally states: “The tales selected in this volume were published by Dumas in various collections of stories, or within novels of greater or lesser length.” It then explains the origin of each one. Indeed, these are tales or short stories.

The back cover of the book also features something to keep in mind. The title is Classics; as is well known, Alexandre Dumas is a classic of universal literature. One paragraph asks and answers: “Fantasy or History? There is no difference between one and the other when the author is a master of the adventure novel.” Having read the stories, it is important to consider this paragraph—or at least bear it in mind.

The first of the tales presented is called “The Marvelous History of Don Bernardo de Zúñiga”. The Note regarding it states that it was extracted from the short novel Les Gentilhommes de la sierra Morena.

This story, set in the territory of Spain under the Catholic Monarchs and the struggle against the Moors, begins—like several of the other tales—in a realistic manner and then shifts into fiction. Hence why the back cover's paragraph, “Fantasy or History?”, had to be considered; they work well together, given that the author creates a very interesting blend of both.

I have not read the work containing the full story, but from what I was able to learn, Dumas made a trip to Spain and upon his return wrote the story. The tale in question comprises the final three chapters that follow the first four, which together complete the novel.

“In this fictional tale, Dumas uses three essential elements. On the one hand, the travelogue device as a framework to develop the story. Under the cover of his real journey, the writer employs the very same elements already present in the aforementioned chapters of From Paris to Cadiz (using the classic first-person formula and the epistolary procedure). (...) He also uses in this tale, as he has on other occasions, typical marks of the romantic historical novel, with that narrator's voice presenting itself as a mere reader and copyist of an unpublished manuscript. (...) Despite being a short story, he integrates it into a localized and truthful framework, making historical and invented elements intervene in the diegesis. (...) The third element is the fantastic. (...) Would Dumas have known any legend or romance concerning the Zúñigas? For my part, I have not found any data regarding the love story stronger than death. The author uses data and characters to his advantage, combining his storytelling power with history and those stories that might belong to the common legacy of tales and legends of the Spain he traveled through.”

— Concepción Palacios Bernal, “El relato de viaje al servicio del cuento fantástico” (pp. 406, 407, 408, and 409). In Escrituras y reescrituras del viaje: miradas plurales a través del tiempo y de las culturas, edited by José M. Oliver and José M. Oliver Frade (Peter Lang, 2007).

However, I found in another blog—run by a Spanish historian named Carmen—a discussion of an edition of Dumas's novel featuring a commented study by an author named José Antonio Sánchez Paso. She writes:

“Suggestive is the fact that the protagonist of the novel bears the surname of the noble family that lorded over Béjar since the 14th century, and even more enigmatic is the fact that the place where part of its action takes place is situated at the Sanctuary of Fuente Santa, when in a place called Medinilla—precisely within the domains of the Zúñigas of Béjar—there is a temple with that very name. Unraveling the mystery is handled by José Antonio Sánchez Paso in the commented edition of this novel by Alexandre Dumas, published by the Institución Gran Duque de Alba (dependent on the Provincial Council of Ávila), which saw the light of day last year [referring to 2011].”

http://ccasconm.blogspot.com.ar/2012/04/resena-de-la-comentada-de.html

Another brief commentary regarding the aforementioned book can be read to round out the topic: a short 2-page commentary published in a PDF file by Fernando Romera, available at the following link: http://www.diputacionavila.es/igda/pdf/bernardodezuniga.pdf.

Returning to the book Fantastic Stories, the second tale is called “The Tombs of Saint-Denis”. I thought it was very good. It follows the same line, beginning with a historical framework before moving into the fantastic. According to the book's Note, this tale was taken from Chapter IX of Les Mille et Un Fantômes (The Thousand and One Ghosts).

In this story, there is a fragment that stuck with me due to its vivid relevance today. It reflects how many realities—I would say of many past and present governments—allude to a ruling government or group that denies the past. This could also be extended to current legal concepts in some countries concerning the “right to be forgotten.” But going beyond particulars to governments: for instance, when many social commentators in the media allude to the “narrative” (el relato) in reference to the current Argentine government, or what could be called a “cultural erasure” of the past by certain sectors, it can be taken to extremes by past de facto governments—to mention one example, when Peronism was proscribed. The fragment in question states:

“Furthermore, the objective was to annihilate even the name, even the memory, even the bones of the kings; the objective was to erase fourteen centuries of monarchy from history. Poor fools who do not understand that men can sometimes change the future..., never the past!” (p. 44)

In the tale, Dumas frames the events within occurrences that actually happened in 1793 during the French Revolution, when the tombs of the kings buried in the Basilica of Saint-Denis were profaned and destroyed. The bodies (or what remained of them) were removed from their coffins and buried in a mass grave. It so happened that one body was in good condition—that of Henry IV, because he had been mummified “the Italian way” since he was a king beloved by a large part of the people. For that reason (having been mummified), he was exhibited to the public for several days, where he suffered all kinds of mutilations, including the loss of his head. The history of this monarch's head is another interesting story to read that is not found in Dumas's tale, as history surpasses it in time all the way to the present day. Dumas's written account of the events is phenomenal, blending the real and the supernatural, and including a prophecy to close the story that, of course, came true in reality (the restitution of the remains to the tombs of Saint Denis). And now, reading a bit about those events, it becomes even more interesting.

To expand on this story, you can visit the following link: http://viajeroincidental.blogspot.com.ar/2009/08/las-tumbas-de-saint-denis.html, and read page 66 of the book Alejandro Dumas: Vida y obra by authors Mercedes Balda and Manuel Galguera (Servicios Editoriales/Balam).

The book Fantastic Stories continues Dumas's sequence of tales with another called “The Two Students”. The Notes section indicates that this story was taken from the short novel Un diner chez Rossini (A Dinner at Rossini's). Another good tale. The story begins in what is known as cloak-and-dagger stories or novels. It feels quite realistic, but then takes a turn and the fantastic begins.

One can view the fantastic element in two ways: the first is strictly fantastic, with the appearance of something supernatural that we might call a spirit or a ghost; or alternatively, the other way to see it is that this ghost actually represents the inner voice, the conscience of the character. Either way, whichever way it is viewed, both work and allow you to enjoy the reading. The story follows a progressive trend toward the supernatural.

Some readers—very few, at least those who commented on the web—have seen the story as being about two homosexuals, basing this on part of the dialogue maintained by the two students. For my part, I believe that is a very superficial reading that does not delve deeply into the text, and a superficial reading can yield many different interpretations. The tale is immersed in a succession of stories that share a guiding thread; they are fantastic stories, and none of the others are of this tenor, as those who read it superficially have noticed. However, all the other stories do share common points, such as the supernatural, acts of violence, reality, the way in which the stories come to light, etc.

It is true that the dialogue between the two students at times becomes quite sappy and even boring. But the essential issue lies elsewhere. Apparently, it is not known how Dumas got wind of the story, or if it is purely his own creation; it is likely he had some triggers that inspired him, real or fictional. But the premise he relates is that “the story was narrated to Dumas in Italy while he was attending a dinner at the home of the composer Rossini (composer of comic operas), and during dessert Dumas says that there are no horror stories in Italy, to which a poet replies that this is not true and promises to tell him what happened in his family” (Book: Alejandro Dumas: Vida y obra; Authors: Mercedes Balda and Manuel Galguera; Publisher: Servicios Editoriales/Balam; p. 68). The reality is different: wherever Dumas obtained his story, the introductory chapter is entirely his own.

The characters are romantic, idealists; although he describes them as informal people, they possess a chivalrous informality, perhaps typical of the era. He sets the action and development of the work in Italian lands, in an environment where bandits and highwaymen are not lacking, operating in roads that are partially isolated and/or difficult to traverse. To understand it, one must imagine the Italy of that time and its social and political situation, mostly so as not to take it out of context. Let's think about this environment and imagine that thieves and murderers moved with considerable impunity, except for those who fell out of favor and were pursued, caught, or executed.

We must also bear in mind that in Italy, the idea of religiosity cannot be left out, in whatever form. Italy is the cradle of Catholicism, and it manifests in various ways among the values of certain social actors within the population. As I read on a French website dedicated to Dumas:

“The author wanted to show that home-based, gothic stories featuring revenge, ghosts, romanticism, and blood do not belong solely to the Nordic countries. And he sought to make them possible in southern Europe, more specifically in Italy.”

Website: http://www.dumaspere.com/pages/dictionnaire/diner_chez_rossini.html

It is followed by the tale “History of the Familiar Demon of Lord Corasse”, which was taken from the short novel Monseigneur Gaston Phoebus. This fantastic tale, set in a castle, recounts the relationship established between a demon and the lord of the castle. The relationship is good; we find no blood, violent acts, or terror. It is not a gothic narrative. Although the supernatural intervenes, to a certain point it seems naive and comical. There seems to be a play on words in the title when it says "familiar demon," because ultimately it is a appearing spirit that can cause harm, but at the same time keeps visiting the lord of the castle over and over again, which makes their relationship a familiar one.

One would have to read the complete novel; perhaps the demon signifies something, or perhaps—as a possible reading—it can be interpreted as the voice of conscience or visions native to a sick person suffering from delusions and hallucinations, but simply by reading the short story we cannot know for sure. Perhaps we can conjecture something when we read the outcome.

The fifth story is called “The King of Skittles” (El rey de los bolos). This is one of my favorite stories in the book, largely because of the way Dumas writes it. He also makes certain “period” contributions that I find interesting for contextualization purposes. Besides being a fantastic tale, it possesses moral ingredients and also touches upon psychological issues: pride, envy, and wickedness.

It tells the story of a person who was better than everyone else at playing skittles (bowling), until the day a third person arrives who turns out to play better than him. Gottieb, finding himself surpassed, becomes furious and seeks to train himself to defeat the new champion. But it turns out the new champion is the Devil, and Gottieb makes a pact with the Devil in exchange for being the champion forever—never to be surpassed by anyone else again. It is incredible how Dumas writes the story and portrays the personality of the envious man. From that point on, he mixes fantasy with religion, a new character appears, the plot develops until it reaches the outcome, and in between there is a bit of psychological suspense.

Dumas introduces into the story a very well-known trope: the pact with the Devil to obtain something in exchange, the consequences of making a pact with the Devil, and how to avoid and defeat the Devil. In fact, I knew this story in another format, developed with animals, in a primary school book—I don't remember if it was second or third grade.

The setting of the story is also interesting, along with mentions that today might sound distant. On page 126, Dumas mentions some children's games:

“The children, for their part, played with the top, the pegtop, the chito, marbles, ball, kite, and hoop.”

The two games I am unfamiliar with are the pegtop (peonza) and chito. The pegtop is a game very similar to a spinning top (trompo), to the point that they are equated, though Dumas differentiates them. Chito is a game similar to tejo (horseshoes/pucks), with the difference that a cylinder (el chito) is placed upright with a coin on top, and then the pucks are thrown at it.

On page 134, he mentions a saying: “Verba volant; scripta manent.” Although it is not translated in the book, what it alludes to is perfectly understood. The translation would be: “Words fly, writing stays” (“Las palabras vuelan, lo escrito queda”).

On page 142, he characterizes Germans as dreamers; I estimate this must be based on something for him to refer to them this way, though I am unaware of the reason. Perhaps he is alluding to a book titled Pictures of Travel (Cuadros de viajes) by the poet Heinrich Heine, where that author refers to Germans as dreamers.

He also mentions some trades that no longer exist, and others that are no longer commonly heard of as such (except in certain places) and were typical of that time, such as the wood-turner worker (obrero torneador), the weaver, the coal miner (carbonero), and the mayor/burgomaster (burgomaestre). Or the mention of the “sunday-best worker's suit” (traje de obrero endomingado).

While the story has a realistic beginning, then passes through some psychological elements, it subsequently introduces religion and finishes with a final metaphor. It turns out to be an interesting tale to read.

It continues with the story “The King of the Moles and His Daughter”. Starting from this tale and those that follow, one enters fully into fantastic literature. Everything is pure fantasy. Nevertheless, certain nuances can be pondered in each of these tales. This story tells of a humble woman who seeks to find her son—who lived with her and was also of a humble condition, a poor and hardworking peasant—who had been abducted by a group of moles, specifically by the king and his daughter. Upon reading it, one might find a certain pro-monarchist tint.

Next is the tale “The Enchanted Whistle”. This story seems to be the exact opposite of the previous one; in reading it, one can find a certain anti-monarchist tint. It is about how a peasant shepherd, with the help of a whistle, overcomes certain trials in order to marry the king's daughter. The point is that by overcoming the trials, the shepherd ridicules royalty.

Afterward comes the story “A Journey to the Moon”, which originally bore the title Mocquet's Nightmare (La pesadilla de Mocquet). The title Journey to the Moon is good because it maintains the intrigue; nevertheless, the title Mocquet's Nightmare is also appropriate as it gives an idea of what the story is about.

Be that as it may, it is a rather delirious and at times quite amusing journey. There are several humorous passages, for example on pages 207 and 209.

He mentions the post office (Oficina de posta), which is non-existent today but common in the past.

On page 196, he refers to “Hoffmann's poetic and feverish [works],” referring to Ernst Theodor Wilhelm Hoffmann (E. T. A. Hoffmann), who wrote and composed works related to journeys to the Moon, among others.

On another occasion, on page 215, using a proverb, he says:

“My dear Mocquet, among geese we have a proverb that says: ‘There are no worse shots than the shots of a clumsy person.’”

And finally, in this story I find a mention of a “game of piquet” (p. 194), and honestly I had no idea what it referred to. Upon investigating now, I found that it alludes to a card game of French origin dating back to around the 15th century. It is considered the best card game for two people, although its rules are complex, which detracts from its popularity. (http://www.acanomas.com/Reglamentos-Juegos-de-Naipes/1207/Piquet.htm)

The next one is the story called “The Traveling Salesman Stars”, which was first published in the serial Le Mousquetaire (The Musketeer) and later at the end of the novel The Highwayman (El salteador). It is a fantasy tale that mixes Greek gods with stars, and certain qualities with men. In this particular story, it tells of a tale to which it gives a somewhat credible backing of how a story known to this day was born: that of the ghost in the cemetery, with its thousands of variants (the dead woman, the woman with a cloak, the woman in a sheet, the ghost representing such-and-such person, etc.). Here, he manages to present a possible idea of how this story—or at least a story of these characteristics—could have originated.

On page 223, it says: “she merely has a certain air of a bluestocking (marisabidilla)”. I was unfamiliar with this last word, but it is in the RAE (Royal Spanish Academy) dictionary, whose definition is: Marisabidilla (from Mari, apocope of María, and sabidilla): 1. feminine, colloquial. A woman who presumes to be wise.

The book Fantastic Stories concludes with two tales. One of them is called “An Unborn Soul”, which was originally published under the title History of a Soul. It is about a soul that despairs to be born, and the tale features a surprise ending. It could be said to be a story bordering on the religious, with Christian roots.

And the final tale completing the book is called “Desire and Possession”, which was published in the newspaper Le Mousquetaire (The Musketeer). This story bored me a bit; it is not quite up to the level of the others in terms of spirits and ghosts, but rather ventures into the poetic. It deals with a child's journey pursuing a butterfly, and as I was able to read on the web, it is a metaphor representing the poet in search of beauty.