Short Stories by the Generation of 1898/Cuentos de la Generación de 1898

A Dual-Language Book

Miguel de Unamuno, Ramón del Valle-Inclán, Pío Baroja

• Publisher: Dover Publications
• Year: 2014
• ISBN:
  9780486120645
• Topic: Lingue e linguistica
• Subtopic: Lingua spagnola

The generation of Spanish artists known as the 98ers, who renounced politics and sought their country's true spirit within its landscape, culture, and character, are well represented here by thirteen stories by five outstanding authors. Four of the stories are by Miguel de Unamuno, the spiritual leader of the Generation of 1898. Among the other authors included here. Ramón del Valle-Inclán was a chief representative of modernismo fiction. Vicente Blasco Ibáñez, one of the best-known of these writers (though not usually regarded as an authentic 98er), was a keen observer of peasant life. Pío Baroja, sometimes called the foremost Spanish novelist of the twentieth century, wrote a virile, unadorned prose whose style is reputed to have influenced Hemingway. And `Azorín` (José Martinez Ruiz), represented here with a short novel, has an impressionistic and elliptical style that has been described as a literary counterpart to abstract painting.
This dual-language edition features an informative introduction and ample footnotes, making it not only a pleasure to read but also a valuable learning and teaching aid for students and teachers of Spanish literature.

“AZORÍN”
(JOSÉ MARTÍNEZ RUIZ, 1873–1967)

Don Juan

. . . toute l’invention consiste à faire quelque chose de rien.

(RACINE: Prefacio de Bérénice.)

Prólogo

Don Juan del Prado y Ramos era un gran pecador. Un día adoleció gravemente . . .

En el siglo XIII, un poeta, Gonzalo de Berceo, escribe los Milagros de Nuestra Señora. Nuestra Señora ha salvado muchas almas precitas. Del báratro las ha vuelto de nuevo al mundo. En el milagro VII, Berceo refiere el caso de un monje sensual y mundano:

Era de poco seso, facie mucha locura.

No le contenían en sus locuras ni admoniciones ni castigos. Todos sus pensamientos eran para los regalos y deleites terrenos:

Por salud de su cuerpo o por vevir más sano,

usaba lectuarios apriesa e cutiano,

en yvierno calientes, e fríos en verano;

debrie andar devoto, e andaba lozano.

Finó en la contumacia. Pero el monasterio en que había profesado estaba bajo la advocación de San Pedro. San Pedro quiso salvar al pecador. No pudo su solicitud lograr del Señor el milagro. Entonces se dirigió a María. Entre María y el Señor se entabló una patética y tierna contestación. Alegaba el Señor el menoscabo que con la violación de todo lo establecido sufrirían las Escrituras:

Serie menoscabada toda la Escriptura.

Pero, al fin, vence Nuestra Señora . . .

Don Juan del Prado y Ramos no llegó a morir; pero su espíritu salió de la grave enfermedad profundamente transformado.

“AZORÍN”
(JOSÉ MARTÍNEZ RUIZ, 1873–1967)

Don Juan

. . . all inventiveness consists of making something out of nothing.

(RACINE: Preface to Bérénice.)

Prologue

Don Juan del Prado y Ramos was a great sinner. One day he became seriously ill. . . .

In the thirteenth century, a poet, Gonzalo de Berceo, wrote the Miracles of Our Lady. Our Lady has saved many souls from damnation. From the pit she has restored them to the world. In Miracle VII, Berceo relates the case of a sensual, worldly monk:

He had little sense, and committed much folly.

He wasn’t restrained in his follies by either warnings or punishments. All his thoughts were for earthly pleasures and delights:

For his physical well-being and a healthier life,

he readily took sweetened medicines every day,

hot ones in winter, cold ones in summer;

he should have been devout, but he was sprightly.

He died a hardened sinner. But the monastery in which he had taken his vows was under the patronage of Saint Peter. Saint Peter tried to save the sinner. His request was insufficient to elicit that miracle from the Lord. Then he addressed Mary. A pathetic, tender dialogue began between Mary and the Lord. The Lord pointed to the impairment the Scriptures would suffer if all rules were infringed:

All the Scriptures would be diminished.

But finally Our Lady won out. . . .

Don Juan del Prado y Ramos did not die; but his spirit emerged from that serious illness profoundly transformed.

I: Don Juan

Don Juan es un hombre como todos los hombres. No es alto ni bajo; ni delgado ni grueso. Trae una barbita, en punta, corta. Su pelo está cortado casi al rape. No dicen nada sus ojos claros y vivos: miran como todos los ojos. La ropa que viste es pulcra, rica; pero sin apariencias fastuosas. No hay una mácula en su traje ni una sombra en su camisa. Cuando nos separamos de él, no podemos decir de qué manera iba vestido: si vestía con negligencia o con exceso de atuendo. No usa joyas ni olores. No desborda en palabras corteses ni toca en zahareño. Habla con sencillez. Ofrece y cumple. Jamás alude a su persona. Sabe escuchar. A su interlocutor le interroga benévolo sobre lo que al interlocutor interesa. Sigue atento, en silencio, las respuestas. No presume de dadivoso; pero los necesitados que él conoce no se ven en el trance de tener que pedirle nada; él, sencillamente, con gesto de bondad, se adelanta a sus deseos. Muchas veces se ingenia para que el socorrido no sepa que es él quien le socorre. Pone la amistad —flor suprema de la civilización— por encima de todo. Le llegan al alma las infidencias del amigo; pero sabe perdonar al desleal que declara noblemente su falta. ¿Hay, a veces, un arrebol de melancolía en su cara? ¿Matiza sus ojos, de cuando en cuando, la tristeza? Sobre sus pesares íntimos coloca, en bien del prójimo, la máscara del contento. No se queja del hombre, ni —lo que fuera locura— del destino. Acepta la flaqueza eterna humana y tiene para los desvaríos ajenos una sonrisa de piedad.

II: Más de su etopeya

¿En qué se ocupa don Juan? ¿Cómo distribuye las horas del día? Don Juan no se desparrama en vanas amistades, ni es un misántropo. Gusta de alternar la comunicación social con la soledad confortadora. Bossuet ha dicho una frase profunda en su Oración fúnebre de María Teresa de Austria: “Il faut savoir se donner des heures d’une solitude effective —dice el gran orador— si l’on veut conserver les forces de l’âme.” Fuerzas del alma son el gusto por la belleza, el sentido de la justicia, el desdén por las vanidades decorativas. En sus viajes, durante las temporadas que pasa en sus ciudades predilectas, gusta don Juan de abismarse, de cuando en cuando, en la bienhechora soledad. La meditación es para él la fuerza suprema del espíritu. No es artista

I: Don Juan

Don Juan is a man like all other men. He’s neither tall nor short; neither thin nor fat. He wears a small beard, pointed, short. His hair is just a little longer than “close-cropped.” There is no message in his bright, lively eyes; they see, like any other eyes. The clothing he wears is neat and handsome, but without being flashy or showy. There isn’t a fleck on his suit or a dark spot on his shirt. When we take leave of him, we can’t say what he was wearing: whether he was dressed casually or with excessive care. He doesn’t use jewelry or scent. He doesn’t overflow with polite words, but he isn’t unsociable, either. He speaks with simplicity. He keeps his promises. He never refers to himself. He’s a good listener. He benevolently asks the person he’s speaking with about things of interest to that person. He listens to replies attentively, in silence. He makes no claim to be munificent, but the people of his acquaintance who are in need never find themselves in the embarrassing position of asking him for anything; in a simple fashion, with kindness written on his face, he anticipates their wishes. Often he contrives to keep the recipient unaware that it is he who is giving the aid. He sets friendship—the supreme flower of civilization—above all else. He’s deeply hurt when a friend is unfaithful, but he’s able to forgive a disloyal man who nobly confesses his fault. Is there sometimes a melancholy flush on his face? Are his eyes every so often clouded by sadness? Over his inner griefs, for the sake of his fellow men, he places the mask of contentment. He doesn’t rail at men or (and this would be madness) at fate. He accepts eternal human weakness and he has a smile of pity for the foolish acts of others.

II: More About His Character

How does Don Juan occupy his time? How does he apportion the hours of his day? Don Juan doesn’t squander his time with unprofitable friendships; nor is he a misanthrope. He likes to alternate social intercourse and comforting solitude. Bossuet uttered a profound statement in his Funeral Oration for Maria Theresa of Austria: “We must know how to grant ourselves hours of effective solitude,” says the great orator, “if we wish to preserve the strength of our soul.” The strength of the soul is a taste for beauty, a sense of justice, scorn for ornamental vanities. On his travels, during the seasons he spends in his favorite cities, Don Juan enjoys immersing himself from time to time in beneficent solitude. To him meditation is the supreme power of the mind.

profesional; pero cuando lee un libro, piensa que en arte lo que importa no es la cantidad, sino la espiritualidad y delicadeza del trabajo. Ha viajado don Juan. La observación de los encontrados usos y sentimientos humanos le ha enseñado a ser tolerante. No tiene para el pobre la fingida y humillante cordialidad de los grandes señores: su afecto es campechano compañerismo. A los criados los trata humanamente. Comprende —según se ha dicho— que si exigiéramos a los amos tantas buenas cualidades como exigimos a los criados, muy pocos amos pudieran ser criados.

III: La pequeña ciudad

Don Juan no mora ya en una casa suntuosa, ni se aposenta en grandes hoteles. ¿Se va cansando de los trabajos del mundo? ¿Está un poco hastiado de los deleites y apetitos terrenos? “¿Qué puedes ver en otro lugar que aquí no veas? —se lee en la Imitación de Cristo—. Aquí ves el cielo, y la tierra, y los elementos, de los cuales fueron hechas todas las cosas. ¿Qué puedes ver que permanezca mucho tiempo debajo del sol?” Don Juan vive en una pequeña ciudad. “La ciudad —dice una vieja Guía de 1845— es de fundación romana. Conserva de sus primitivas edificaciones un puente sobre el río Cermeño y restos de murallas. Suelen encontrarse en su término monedas y fragmentos de estatuas. La ciudad está edificada en un alto, rodeada de alegres lomas y colinas. Cuenta con cuatro puertas. La catedral es de estilo gótico; fué restaurada en 1072 por Alfonso VI; tiene ocho dignidades, diez canónigos, cuatro racioneros, trece medios y diez capellanes. La industria de la ciudad consiste en telares de jerga y jalmas, estameñas y paños, curtidos de cuero y suela, y cordelería. En su campiña se cosecha trigo, aceite, rubia y alazor. Se celebra una feria por San Martín.”

Desde lejos, viniendo por el camino del río, se ven los pedazos de la muralla y la ermita de San Zoles. Por encima de las techumbres se yergue la casa del maestre. Unos cipreses asoman entre tapiales: son los del huerto de las jerónimas. A la derecha, otra mancha verde marca el convento de las capuchinas. Hay en la ciudad una cofradía de Cristo Sangriento. De noche, en las callejuelas, por las plazoletas, unas voces largas cantan la hora, después de haber exclamado: “¡Ave María purísima!” Brilla un farolito en un retablo. No sabemos a dónde vamos a salir por esta maraña de callejitas oscuras. Vemos, a la débil claridad del cielo, que un viejo

He isn’t a professional artist, but when he reads a book, he thinks that what counts in art is not the length or size, but the spirituality and delicacy, of the work. Don Juan has traveled. His observation of the customs and human feelings he has come across has taught him to be tolerant. He doesn’t have a great lord’s feigned, humiliating courtesy toward poor men: his affection is one of good-natured companionship. He treats servants humanely. He understands—as it has been said—that if we were to demand as many good qualities of masters as we do of servants, very few masters would be able to qualify as servants.

III: The Little City

Don Juan no longer resides in a sumptuous house, nor does he lodge in big hotels. Is he growing weary of the travails of the world? Is he a little surfeited with earthly delights and appetites? “What can you see elsewhere that you can’t see here?” one reads in the Imitation of Christ. “Here you see the sky, the land, and the elements from which all things were composed. What can you see that will endure for very long under the sun?” Don Juan lives in a little city. “The city,” says an old guidebook from 1845, “was founded by the Romans. Of its original constructions it preserves a bridge over the river Cermeño and remains of city walls. Coins and statue fragments are often found within its boundaries. The city is built on a height and is encircled by cheerful slopes and hills. It has four gates. The cathedral is Gothic in style; it was restored in 1072 by Alfonso VI; it has eight chief prebendaries, ten canons, four priests on full...