It should be remembered that M. Dorchain’s selection was restricted by the plan of the series to the works of authors no longer living and to stories not exceeding 15,000 words in length. It should also be borne in mind that the notes in the present volume are, without exception, those of the original authors, the translators having done nothing more than translate carefully without omission or addition.
THE TWELVE BEST SHORT STORIES IN THE FRENCH LANGUAGE
THE ADVENTURES OF THE LAST OF THE ABENCERRAGES
VISCOUNT CHATEAUBRIAND
ADVERTISEMENT
The Adventures of the last of the Abencerrages were written nearly twenty years ago; the portrait which I have sketched of the Spaniards explains sufficiently why this story could not be printed under the Imperial government. The resistance of the Spaniards to Buonaparte, of a defenceless nation to the conqueror, who had vanquished the best soldiers of Europe, excited at that time the enthusiasm of every heart susceptible of being affected by great devotedness and noble sacrifices. The ruins of Saragossa were still smoking, and the censorship would not have suffered the publication of eulogiums, in which it would have discovered, rightly enough, a concealed interest for the victims. Pictures of the ancient manners of Europe, recollections of the glory of former times, and those of the court of one of our most distinguished monarchs, would not have been more agreeable to the censorship, which besides began to repent having so often allowed me to speak of the ancient monarchy, and of the religion of our fathers: these departed subjects, which I was incessantly recalling, excited too powerfully the thoughts of the living.
It is a frequent practice, in pictures, to place some unseemly personage for the purpose of bringing out more the beauty of others: in this story, my idea has been to paint three men of equally elevated character, but not out of the usual course of nature, and retaining, along with the passions, the manners and even the prejudices of their country. The character of the female is also drawn in the same proportions. The world of imagination, when we transport ourselves thither, should at least make us amends for the world of reality.
It will readily be seen that this story is the composition of a man who has felt the pangs of exile, and whose heart is entirely wrapt up in his country.
The views, so to speak, which I have given of Granada, of the Alhambra, and of the ruined mosque transformed into a church, were taken upon the spot. The latter is nothing else than the cathedral of Cordova. These descriptions are therefore a kind of addition to the following passage of the Itinerary. “From Cadiz, I repaired to Cordova; I admired the mosque which is now the cathedral of that city. I traversed the ancient Betica, described by the poets as the abode of happiness. I ascended as far as Andujar, and retraced my steps in order to see Granada. The Alhambra appeared to me well worthy of being looked at, even after the temples of Greece. The valley of Granada is delightful, and reminds one very much of that of Sparta; that the Moors should have regretted such a country may be easily conceived.”—(Itinerary, part VII. and last).
There are frequent allusions in this story to the history of the Zegris and the Abencerrages; this history is so well known, that I have thought it superfluous to give any sketch of it in this advertisement. Besides, the story itself contains sufficient details to make the text easily understood.
When Boabdil, the last king of Granada, was compelled to abandon the kingdom of his forefathers, he halted on the top of Mount Padul. That elevated spot commanded a view of the sea, on which the unfortunate monarch was about to embark for Africa; from it also could be discovered Granada, the Vega, and the Xenil, on the banks of which were erected the tents of Ferdinand and Isabella. At the sight of this beautiful country, and of the cypresses which still marked here and there the tombs of the Mussulmans, Boabdil began to shed tears. The sultana Ayxa, his mother, who accompanied him in his exile, along with the grandees who formerly composed his court, said to him: “Weep now like a woman, for the loss of a kingdom, which thou hast been unable to defend like a man.” They descended from the mountain, and Granada disappeared from their eyes for ever.