In this way we reached Hango, in this way we passed through the arbutus hedge that served as a fence around the cemetery. Hardly had I entered than I could make out, in the shadows, Kostaki’s tomb placed next to his father’s; I had not known it was there, and yet I recognized it.

  That night, I knew everything.

  At the edge of the open grave, Gregoriska halted.

  “Kostaki,” he said, “it is not all over for you yet, and a voice from Heaven tells me that you will be forgiven if you repent: will you promise to return into your tomb? Will you promise never to leave it again? Will you promise to worship God as devoutly as you have worshipped the powers of hell?”

  “No!” replied Kostaki.

  “Will you repent?” asked Gregoriska.

  “No!”

  “For the last time, Kostaki?”

  “No!”

  “Very well! Call Satan to your aid, as I call God to mine, and let us see, yet again, who will win the victory.”

  Two cries rang out at the same time; the blades clashed in a shower of sparks, and the combat lasted for a minute that seemed to me a century.

  Kostaki fell, I saw the terrible sword raised, I saw it plunge into his body and nail that body to the freshly dug earth.

  One last inhuman cry passed through the air.

  I rushed over.

  Gregoriska was still upright, but he was swaying on his feet.

  I ran and supported him in my arms.

  “Are you wounded?” I asked anxiously.

  “No,” he said, “but in a duel of this kind, my dear Hedwige, it is not a wound that kills one, but simply the fight. I have fought with death and to death I belong.”

  “My dearest, my dearest,” I cried, “come away, far from here, and life will perhaps return.”

  “No,” he said, “here is my tomb, Hedwige; but let us waste no time: take a little of this earth impregnated with his blood and apply it to the bite that he inflicted on you – this is the only way that you will be able in future to protect yourself from his horrible love.”

  I obeyed, with a shudder. I bent down to pick up that bloody clod of earth, and as I did so I saw his corpse nailed to the ground; the blessed sword had transfixed his heart, and a stream of black blood was flowing from his wound, as if he had died just then.

  I wetted a little earth in the blood, and applied the horrible talisman to my wound.

  “Now, my adored Hedwige,” said Gregoriska in a weakened voice, “listen carefully to my last instructions. Leave this country as soon as you can. Distance alone will bring you security. Father Bazile today heard my last wishes, and he will perform them. Hedwige! A kiss! The last, the only kiss, Hedwige! I am dying.”

  And, as he uttered these words, Gregoriska fell next to his brother.

  In any other circumstance, in the middle of this cemetery, at the edge of this open grave, with these two corpses lying next to each other, I would have gone mad; but, as I have already said, God had granted me a strength equal to the events in which he had made me not only a witness but an active participant.

  Just as I was gazing round in the hope of finding some help, I saw the cloister door open, and the monks, led by Father Bazile, advanced two by two, carrying lit torches and chanting the prayers for the dead.

  Father Bazile had just arrived at the monastery; he had foreseen what would happen, and had come to the cemetery at the head of the entire community.

  He found me still alive in the company of two dead men. Kostaki’s face was crumpled in one final convulsion. Gregoriska, however, was calm and almost smiling.

  As Gregoriska had requested, they buried him next to his brother: the Christian guarding the damned soul.

  When Smerande learnt of this latest misfortune and the part I had played in it, she wanted to see me; she came to me in the monastery of Hango and learnt from my mouth everything that had transpired during that dreadful night.

  I told her the ghostly story in all its details, but she listened to me in the same way Gregoriska had done so, without surprise or alarm.

  “Hedwige,” she replied after a moment’s silence, “however strange the tale you have just recounted, you have merely told the pure and simple truth. The race of the Brankovans is cursed, to the third and fourth generation – the reason being that a Brankovan once killed a priest. But this curse has now expired; though you are a bride, you are still a virgin, and the race will die with me. If my son has bequeathed you a million, take it. After me, apart from the pious bequest I intend to leave, you will have the rest of my fortune. Now follow the advice of your husband. Return with all speed to the countries in which God does not permit such terrible prodigies. I need no one to mourn my sons with me. Farewell – enquire no further about my future fate, which is now a matter for myself and God alone.”

  And after kissing me on the forehead as usual, she left me and went to shut herself away in the castle of Brankovan.

  A week later, I left for France. As Gregoriska had hoped, my nights ceased to be haunted by the terrible phantom. Even my health has been restored, and the only mark I bear of this event is the deathly pallor that accompanies to the grave every creature that has suffered a vampire’s kiss.

  The lady fell silent, midnight struck, and I almost dare say that the bravest among us shuddered at the sound of the clock’s chimes.

  It was time for us to go: we took our leave of M. Ledru.

  One year later, that excellent man died.

  This is the first time since his death that I have had the opportunity to pay tribute to that fine citizen, modest scholar and, above all, perfect gentleman. I am all too happy to do so.

  I have never been back to Fontenay-aux-Roses.

  But the memory of that day made such a deep and lasting impression on my life, and all those strange stories that had accumulated in the course of a single evening dug such a deep furrow in my memory, that in the hope of awakening in others an interest that had grown within myself, as I travelled through the various countries I visited in the course of eighteen years – Switzerland, Germany, Italy, Spain, Sicily, Greece and England – I gathered all the similar traditions, brought back to life as I listened to the tales of these different peoples, and from them I composed this collection which I today offer my faithful readers, under the title The Thousand and One Ghosts.

  Note on the Text

  The translation is based on Alexandre Dumas, Le Meneur de loups et autres récits fantastiques, edited by Francis Lacassin (Paris: Omnibus, 2002). Alice Albinia greatly improved the first draft of this translation: my thanks go to her.

  Notes

  p. 3, of Nimrod and Elzéar Blaze: Nimrod was a “mighty hunter before the Lord” (Genesis 10:9); Elzéar Blaze (1788–1848), who served as a captain in Napoleon’s army, wrote Le Chasseur au chien d’arrêt (1838), and other hunting manuals.

  p. 5, at the time of Julian, held travellers heading for Lutetia to ransom: Roman Emperor Julian the Apostate reigned c.361–63 ad; Lutetia was the Roman name for Paris. Issoire was actually a brigand from the Middle Ages.

  p. 5, Ixion: According to Greek myth, Ixion was punished by Zeus for being enamoured of Hera – he was tied for eternity to a whirling flaming wheel.

  p. 6, Montanvert: One of the largest glaciers on Mont Blanc, famous, in Percy Bysshe Shelley’s words, for its “terrible precipices of solid ice”.

  p. 19, The song – actually sung by “la Mère Mathurin” – is a folk sing of Picardy. Mère Mathurin has been advised to stop drinking, on doctor’s orders, but wisely decides to be buried “down in the cellar with my wine”.

  p. 19, 29th July 1830: This was the last of the three “glorious” July days when Charles X (1757–1836) was driven into exile, to be replaced by Louis-Philippe (1773–1850). Dumas himself participated in the events.

  p. 23, Jean-Louis Alliette: Dumas is indulging in mystification here: there was a Jean-Baptiste (not Jean-Louis) Alliette, who did adopt the pseudonym Etteilla and was an influential Tarotist, but he lived between 1738 and 1791, while this story is set in 1831.

  p. 24, Cagliostro, the Count of Saint-Germain, the Wandering Jew, for instance: These are all people who supposedly continued to live long after a usual lifespan.

  p. 31, Scarron: Paul Scarron (1610–60), French author, writer of sonnets, madrigals, songs, comedies, epistles and satires; he was disabled for life by illness (or accident – it is not clear).

  p. 33, Madame Scarron’s… Versailles or Saint-Cyr: Françoise d’Aubigné (1635–1719) was the wife of Scarron, whom she married in 1651, and later, after Scarron’s death, secret wife of King Louis XIV (1638–1715), for whose children she was governess. In this latter period she was referred to as Madame de Maintenon, after the name of one of her estates.

  p. 33, The Map of Love: The carte de tendre was an allegorical map included in Madeleine de Scudéry’s (1607–1701) lengthy novel Clélie, completed in 1660: the map purported to show the routes to a woman’s heart.

  p. 33, Armida’s: The love story of the sorceress Armida and the Christian warrior Rinaldo – set at the time of the First Crusade – takes place partly on Armida’s enchanted island where she has trapped her lover.

  p. 37, tern: A tern is a set of three numbers that, when drawn together in a lottery, win a big prize.

  p. 39, Cazotte’s: Jacques Cazotte (1719–92), author of popular poems and romances, many of them with an occult theme.

  p. 39, the Chevalier Lenoir: Alexandre Lenoir (1761–1839) founded the museum of French monuments in the former convent of the Petits-Augustins, officially opened in 1795 and consisting mainly of pieces salvaged from revolutionary vandalism.

  p. 41, eine Erscheinung: “An apparition” (German).

  p. 43, Henri III, of Christine and of Antony: These were plays for which Dumas was celebrated – Antony, first performed in 1831 (the year this story is set) was a spectacular success.

  p. 48, Have you read… protestations of Œlcher: “Sommering” (I have kept Dumas’s spelling in the text) was Samuel Thomas von Sömmerring (1755–1830), a German physician and specialist on the human nervous system. Jean-Joseph Sue (1710–92) was a French physician and anatomist, as was his son of the same name (1760–1830) – M. Ledru is probably here referring to Sue fils, who opposed the use of the guillotine because he thought it did not ensure instantaneous death. There was a young German doctor by the name of Oesler (not Œlcher) who apparently agreed with Sömmerring that sensation continued in someone who had just been guillotined.

  p. 52, Volta, Galvani and Mesmer: Alessandro Volta (1745–1827), Italian physicist who advanced the understanding of electricity; Luigi Galvani (1737–98), Italian physiologist whose experiments helped lead to the electrical theory of muscle control by nerves; Franz Mesmer (1734–1815), Austrian physician, founder of mesmerism and propounder of theories about animal magnetism.

  p. 52, the men of the Mountain: “La Montagne” referred to the highest-placed seats in the French Revolutionary National Convention; here sat the most radical deputies.

  p. 52, Danton and Camille Desmoulins… Mademoiselle de Corday: Georges Jacques Danton (1759–94), French Revolutionary leader, overthrown and guillotined by Robespierre; Camille Desmoulins (1760–94), French Revolutionary leader, pamphleteer and orator; Jean-Paul Marat (1743–93), French Revolutionary leader and journalist, stabbed to death in his bath by Charlotte Corday (1768–93), a supporter of the Revolution who became so horrified by its aftermath of brutality that she turned against its leaders.

  p. 53, the statue of Liberty: This was located in the Place de la Révolution, the site of the guillotine – now the Place de la Concorde.

  p. 55, The people demanded… led away to jail: As the UK magazine Bizarre notes in its August 1998 issue, Dumas’s story about Charlotte Corday’s executioner, François Legros, was widely known and gave rise to much scientific interest in the question of whether a decapitated head still had feeling.

  p. 66, General Marceau: François Séverin Marceau (1769–96), a general in the Revolutionary armies, was given the task of defeating the royalist rebels in the Vendée region.

  p. 66, Kléber: Jean-Baptiste Kléber (1753–1800), French soldier who rose from volunteer to general.

  p. 73, the horrible intensity of that suffering: It is not to indulge in cold-blooded and gratuitous horror that we are dwelling on such a subject, but it is our view that, at a time when the abolition of the death penalty is being debated, such a discussion will not be completely irrelevant. (dumas’s note)

  p. 103, the hero of the Parc-aux-Cerfs: This “stag park” was an area in the grounds of the Palace of Versailles where a mansion stood that accommodated the mistresses of Louis XV.

  p. 112, hands of justice: The main de justice was part of the regalia used in French coronations from the Middle Ages onwards. It consisted of a sceptre topped by the figure of a hand. The small finger and ring finger of the hand were closed on the palm, while the other two fingers and the thumb were extended, in a gesture reminiscent of blessing, though the overall symbolic significance was that the king was empowered to administer justice. The thumb represented the king; the index finger represented reason; the middle finger represented charity, and the remaining two fingers represented the Catholic religion.

  p. 113, Cardinal de Retz: Jean François Paul de Gondi (1613-1679) was made cardinal and Archbishop of Paris but supported the rebels of the Fronde against the French monarchy and fell for a while into disfavour, but after a period travelling through Europe was appointed abbot of Saint-Denis. He was buried here, but Louis XIV decreed he should have no monument.

  p. 114, the first valet tranchant: An official somewhat like the gentleman carver to the king.

  p. 117, Notre-Dame-de-Liesse: This church (whose name means ‘Our Lady of Bliss’) is a pilgrimage site located in the Aisne; it was founded in 1134.

  p. 118, Robert the Strong: Dumas’s ‘Robert-le-Fort’ is probably a reference to Robert the Pious (c.972–1031), who founded the church of Notre-Dame-du-Fort in Étampes in around 1022.

  p. 120, Cartouche and Poulailler: Infamous eighteenth-century French bandits.

  p. 122, Rossignol: Antoine Rossignol (1600–82) was a renowned cryptographer.

  p. 131, Justice: This was the name given to the place where thieves and murderers were hanged. (dumas’s note)

  p. 132, Guinette Tower… guard the town: The ruined Tour de Guinette is all that remains of the Château d’Étampes. By the early fifteenth century the château was a fine complex of buildings, and can be seen depicted in the August scene of the Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry

  p. 154, the Second Partition of Poland: The old Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth was partitioned between the European powers three times at the end of the eighteenth century. The Second Partition took place in 1793. After a failed uprising, the Third Partition of 1795 led to the very name of Poland being expunged from the encyclopedias of the partitioning powers.

  p. 158, affrines: This word has caused much debate. It is almost certainly some kind of flower. The word may have been invented by Dumas or one of the hacks to whom he subcontracted much of his work. His toponymy is also somewhat unreliable, and his place names are often evocative without necessarily referring to places that might be found on a map. In the first edition of the present book, the mountains that he later called the Carpathians were, somewhat more sonorously, “Les Monts Krapachs”.

  p. 164, the Lenore in Bürger’s ballad: Gottfried August Bürger (–) was a German poet famous for his folk ballads, especially the popular vampire story ‘Lenore’ (1773).

  p. 196, Villehardouin and Baldwin of Flanders: Geffroi de Villehardouin (c.1160–c.1213), whose Conqueste de Constantinople gives insight into the crusades; Baldwin of Flanders (1172–c.1205), who became Emperor of Constantinople after its capture.

 

 

  Alexandre Dumas, The Thousand and One Ghosts

 

 

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