Carmen

“As I wandered, one day, across the higher lands of the Cachena plain, worn with fatigue, parched with thirst, scorched by a burning sun, cursing Caesar and Pompey’s sons alike, most heartily, my eye lighted, at some distance from the path I was following, on a little stretch of green sward dotted with reeds and rushes. That betokened the neighbourhood of some spring, and, indeed, as I drew nearer I perceived that what had looked like sward was a marsh, into which a stream, which seemed to issue from a narrow gorge between two high spurs of the Sierra di Cabra, ran and disappeared.”

These two sentences use imagery and detailed descriptions of scenery to establish a clear picture of the setting and the narrator’s state of mind. The long, meandering sentences with their many subordinate clauses echo the dragging pace of a long and fatiguing journey.

“He was an active young fellow, of middle height, but powerful in build, and proud and sullen-looking in expression. His complexion, which may once have been fine, had been tanned by the sun till it was darker than his hair. One of his hands grasped his horse’s halter. In the other he held a brass blunderbuss.”

This first detailed description of Don José foreshadows many of his character traits and experiences, such as his pride, youth, and active lifestyle. In 19th-century Europe, a darker complexion was generally associated with the lower classes, who worked outside in agriculture or did other manual labor, while the elites coddled a fashionable pale complexion by remaining indoors or mimicked one with cosmetics. Additionally, Don José’s hold on the blunderbuss reflects his capacity for violence.

“In Spain the giving and accepting of a cigar establishes bonds of hospitality similar to those founded in Eastern countries on the partaking of bread and salt.”

This quote hearkens to the theme of Exoticism and Racial Prejudice. It links Spanish culture with “Eastern,” presumably Asian countries, regions that were frequently exoticized and colonized by the nations of 19th-century Europe. Additionally, the customs of Spain establish an honor code for Don José to follow and Carmen to violate, thereby revealing their respective morality.

“I had no doubt at all I was in the company of a smuggler, and possibly of a brigand. What cared I?”

The narrator’s rhetorical question encourages the reader to consider the morality and potential danger of the situation, as well as to imagine themselves in the narrator’s place. There is also an irony to the dismissive question; the narrator has professed certainty about the stranger’s illegal business, and is therefore aware of the inherent dangers of associating with him.

“He laid the mandolin down on the ground, and began staring with a peculiarly sad expression at the dying fire. His face, at once fierce and noble-looking, reminded me, as the firelight fell on it, of Milton’s Satan. Like him, perchance, my comrade was musing over the home he had forfeited, the exile he had earned, by some misdeed.”

Milton’s Satan is a tragic and sympathetic antihero and antagonist whose fall shares many commonalities with Don José’s. The literary reference here encourages the comparison and association of the two characters.

“‘I’m only a poor man, senor,’ quoth he, ‘I can’t afford to lose two hundred ducats—especially when I shall earn them by ridding the country of such vermin. But mind what you’re about! If Navarro wakes up, he’ll snatch at his blunderbuss, and then look out for yourself! I’ve gone too far now to turn back. Do the best you can for yourself!’”

The use of short clauses and exclamation points conveys urgency, creating tension. Antonio selfishly and callously turns Don José in, and abandons the narrator to his potential fate. This contrasts with the narrator’s sympathetic and honorable behavior. The reference to Antonio’s fear and poverty suggests that poor conduct is often the result of desperation and social ills. Antonio refers to Don José as “vermin.” He distances himself from the other man by dehumanizing him, displaying his own prejudice.

“The men on the upper quay watch the bathers, straining their eyes, and seeing very little. Yet the white uncertain outlines perceptible against the dark-blue waters of the stream stir the poetic mind, and the possessor of a little fancy finds it not difficult to imagine that Diana and her nymphs are bathing below, while he himself runs no risk of ending like Acteon.”

The narrator refers to Diana and Acteon from Roman mythology. Diana, a maiden goddess of the hunt and moon, would frequently bathe in the woods with her nymphs, and punish any man who dared look upon them. Acteon, one such man, was a hunter, whom Diana transformed into a stag to be run down and killed by his own hounds. The allusion acknowledges the men’s attempted voyeurism, while diminishing its obscenity through association with respectable literature.

“I had yet another motive for prosecuting her acquaintance. When I left college—I acknowledge it with shame—I had wasted a certain amount of time in studying occult science, and had even attempted, more than once, to exorcise the powers of darkness. Though I had been cured, long since, of my passion for such investigations, I still felt a certain attraction and curiosity with regard to all superstitions […].”

The narrator reflects after meeting Carmen about having his fortune read by her. An interest and preoccupation with the supernatural is common in Romantic literature. The narrator references mysticism, but distances himself from any social taboos by asserting how he has “been cured” of his interest and emphasizing the years separating him from such folly. This may be because Mérimée did not wish to face public censure.

“Her skin, though perfectly smooth, was almost of a copper hue. Her eyes were set obliquely in her head, but they were magnificent and large. Her lips, a little full, but beautifully shaped, revealed a set of teeth as white as newly skinned almonds. Her hair—a trifle coarse, perhaps—was black, with blue lights on it like a raven’s wing, long and glossy […] Her eyes, especially, had an expression of mingled sensuality and fierceness which I had never seen in any other human glance. ‘Gipsy’s eye, wolf’s eye!’ is a Spanish saying which denotes close observation.”

This quote shows the misogyny that Carmen faced from the narrator, and presumably from the other men who desired her. The narrator judges her based on her appearance and projects his racist ideas of physiology onto her. He lists off her body parts individually, evaluating them rather than valuing Carmen as a whole individual. In comparing the Roma to wolves, the narrator implies their so-called danger. He conveys their position as outsiders in society and how they were considered less than human.

“Meanwhile the gitana was still talking to him in her own tongue. She became more and more excited. Her eyes grew fierce and bloodshot, her features contracted, she stamped her foot. She seemed to me to be earnestly pressing him to do something he was unwilling to do. What this was I fancied I understood only too well, by the fashion in which she kept drawing her little hand backward and forward under her chin. I was inclined to think she wanted to have somebody’s throat cut, and I had a fair suspicion the throat in question was my own.”

Carmen’s body language and expression shows her escalating frustration and passionate temper. Don José uncharacteristically defies her attempts to pressure and manipulate him, leading to the conflict in which he strikes her. The narrative illustrates the violence of their relationship by Carmen’s desire for murder, and creates tension by putting the narrator in peril. The narrator’s calm and blasé attitude contrasts with the gravity and freneticism of the situation, creating a tone of cynical detachment.

“My family wanted me to go into the church, and made me study for it, but I did not like work. I was too fond of playing tennis, and that was my ruin. When we Navarrese begin to play tennis, we forget everything else. One day, when I had won the game, a young fellow from Alava picked a quarrel with me. We took to our maquilas, and I won again.”

The narrative characterizes Don José with the opening paragraph of his monologue. Through him, Mérimée explores Passion as an Overwhelming Force. Even as a young man, before coming under Carmen’s influence, Don José lost much of his social privilege due to his passion and propensity for violence. He makes bad decisions, hurts other people, and recounts it all matter-of-factly without the least expression of remorse or recognition of wrongdoing.

“Do you know, my son, I really believe I love you a little; but that can’t last! The dog and the wolf can’t agree for long. Perhaps if you turned gipsy, I might care to be your romi. But that’s all nonsense, such things aren’t possible. Pshaw! my boy. Believe me, you’re well out of it. You’ve come across the devil—he isn’t always black—and you’ve not had your neck wrung. I wear a woollen suit, but I’m no sheep. Go and burn a candle to your majari, she deserves it well. Come, good-by once more. Don’t think any more about La Carmencita, or she’ll end by making you marry a widow with wooden legs.”

Carmen warns Don José against loving her. She emphasizes his naivete and her contempt for him by using endearments like “my son” and “my boy,” which also hint at her tender feelings. She uses metaphors, where something is compared to something else without using “like” or “as,” in this case comparing a dog to non-Romani people and a wolf to Roma. This implies that non-Romani people like Don José are tame members of society, while Roma, like her, are wild and fierce. Her reference to wearing wool alludes to the proverb “a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” indicating that her pleasing appearance is deceptive. Carmen associates herself with the devil and contrasts herself to “majari,” the Virgin Mary. She speaks of herself in the third person to assert her authority. Finally, she predicts Don José’s fate using a euphemism for the gallows, “a widow with wooden legs,” foreshadowing his eventual execution.

“So we made it up: but Carmen’s temper was like the weather in our country. The storm is never so close, in our mountains, as when the sun is at its brightest.”

Don José uses a simile, where something is compared to something else using “like” or “as.” He compares Carmen’s mood to changeable weather, and suggests that she is never so dangerous as when she seems content, like “when the sun is at its brightest.” This creates an ominous atmosphere and foreshadows the upcoming turn for the worse in their tumultuous relationship.

“I couldn’t move a step. I felt paralyzed. The officer grew angry, and seeing I did not go out, and had not even taken off my forage cap, he caught me by the collar and shook me roughly. I don’t know what I said to him. He drew his sword, and I unsheathed mine. The old woman caught hold of my arm, and the lieutenant gave me a wound on the forehead, of which I still bear the scar. I made a step backward, and with one jerk of my elbow I threw old Dorotea down. Then, as the lieutenant still pressed me, I turned the point of my sword against his body and he ran upon it.”

Don José describes killing the lieutenant. Short sentences and monosyllabic words—“I couldn’t move a step”—echo the fast pace of the fight and brisk violence of the blows. Don José diminishes his own responsibility. He paints himself as a passive figure who reacts to the lieutenant’s aggression rather than as a murderer—“I felt paralyzed,” “he ran upon it.”

“A man may turn rogue in sheer thoughtlessness. You lose your head over a pretty girl, you fight another man about her, there is a catastrophe, you have to take to the mountains, and you turn from a smuggler into a robber before you have time to think about it.”

Don José refers to himself in the third person, “a man,” and second person, “you,” to describe his actions. This invites the narrator, and ultimately the reader, to sympathize with him. By using the third and second person to describe his fall into banditry, he characteristically divorces himself from his actions and refuses to take ownership of his decisions.

“I’ll follow you, even to death—but I won’t live with you any more. […] You are my rom, and you have the right to kill your romi, but Carmen will always be free. A calli she was born, and a calli she’ll die.”

Carmen’s statements to Don José convey her attitude toward death and freedom, as well as her Romani code of honor. She values her liberty over her life. Although Power Imbalances in Relationships and Society dictate that she submit to Don José, she refuses to be dominated by him through force or fear. She closes by speaking of herself in the third person, adding finality and emphasis.

“I was wild with fury. I drew my knife, I would have had her look frightened, and sue for mercy—but that woman was a demon.”

Don José shows no remorse when recounting his murder of the woman he claimed to love; his desire for Carmen to submit outweighed his affection. He calls her a “demon” for her lack of fear in the face of death, even though he was the one whose actions and motivations were immoral. Carmen’s acceptance of death evokes saints and martyrs who die for their values and beliefs, just as she died for the sake of her liberty.

“That hermit was a holy man! He prayed for her—he said a mass for her soul. Poor child! It’s the calle who are to blame for having brought her up as they did.”

Don José praises the hermit and condemns Roma. This highlights his negative feelings toward those he blames for Carmen’s fate. The use of exclamations and short sentences shows how he feels intense emotion in reliving the murder. He still refuses to take responsibility for his actions. Posthumously, he diminishes Carmen’s free will and agency by ascribing her sins to her upbringing and infantilizing her as a child.

“Their glance can only be compared to that of a wild creature. It is full at once of boldness and shyness, and in this respect their eyes are a fair indication of their national character, which is cunning, bold, but with ‘the natural fear of blows,’ like Panurge.”

Again, the narrator associates Roma with animals, a racist comparison that dehumanizes them and shows that they are not accepted by society or considered tame. “Panurge” refers to a character in French writer François Rabelais’ 16th-century work Gargantua and Pantagruel, a satire of courtly romances. Panurge is a polyglot libertine—sly, cowardly, and vindictive.

“The praise [Borrow] bestows upon their chastity strikes me as being exceedingly exaggerated. In the first place, the great majority are in the position of the ugly woman described by Ovid, ‘Casta quam nemo rogavit.’”

The Latin phrase—“Casta quam nemo rogavit”—can be translated as “A woman who no one asks is chaste.” This implies that the chastity of most Romani women is merely a side-effect of the fact no man wants them. Mérimée took much of his information on Roma from English author George Borrow’s book The Zincali: An Account of the Gypsies of Spain (1841). Borrow’s work was influenced by the common prejudices and racial theories of his time, and his attitude was undeniably colonialist and patriarchal. However, he had a far more nuanced and accurate understanding of Roma culture than many of his contemporaries. This was due in large part to the fact that he himself spoke the Romani language. He spent many years living among Roma learning of their culture and customs. The narrator doubts Borrow’s estimations of Roma, emphasizing the extent of Mérimée’s racism and prejudice.

“This very same woman, humane as was her treatment of her guest said to me constantly before the sick man: ‘Singo, singo, homte hi mulo.’ ‘Soon, soon he must die!’ After all, these people live such miserable lives, that a reference to the approach of death can have no terrors for them.”

The narrator describes the poverty faced by a Roma family and their kindness toward a dying man to whom they would have no responsibility in non-Romani society. This contrasts with the matter-of-fact way they face the man’s death, which would have been taboo in most cultures of Western Europe.

“When I had got near the door I said to her, in good German, ‘The most certain way of keeping your stove from smoking is not to light any fire in it!’ and then I took to my heels.”

The narrator’s anecdote about a peasant woman exemplifies Mérimée’s concise narrative style. Mérimée aims to introduce humor and a light interlude between dense racial and linguistic theory.

“But everywhere the original language is notably affected, though in different degrees, by its contact with the more cultivated languages into the use of which the nomads have been forced.”

Mérimée is wrong: The Roma are not necessarily “nomads,” since the majority of them do not travel more than the average citizen. His assertion that one language is more “cultivated” than another is not correct from a modern linguistic perspective. Apart from that, the narrator is correct in that contact between languages often leads to language change, particularly in a nondominant language such as the Romani language, whose speakers are obliged to learn a region’s dominant language.