fictions and impostures, and their authors as inventors of falsehood
and foolery. Such books, though not approved by sages, are nevertheless
admired and accredited by the mass of people. There are even men of
wisdom and good understanding who put faith in the reality of the
valorous achievements of those knights-errant, who used to sally
from their homes in quest of adventures; each devoutly repeating the
name of the lady of his thoughts, and invoking her succour in the
perils he was about to encounter,--perils voluntarily sought by men
who could not behold a grievance without endeavouring to redress it,
or a wrong without attempting to right it. Would to heaven! (and
these words he uttered with a sorrowful look), that I could meet
with some knight-errant who would undertake to right my wrong,--I
mean my hump, which is a grievance I should like to see redressed.
But for that, and these unshapely limbs, my shortness of stature, a
superfluous length of nose, a peculiar stare in my eyes, and too great
an expansion of mouth,--but for these trifles, I should be one of the
most gallant-looking gentlemen in the world: none would be more admired
by the ladies, or more envied by the men. My mother’s neighbours used
to tell her when I was a little child that I was the living likeness
of my father, who was a brave soldier in the army of the invincible
emperor. He served in the war in Flanders, fighting in all the hottest
battles and skirmishes; always the last to engage in the attack, and
the first to commence the retreat. It happened one day that Captain
Luis Quijada, who held a command in the Lombardy forces, perceiving
my father partly concealed behind a tree, thought he was a spy, and
ordered him to be seized. But my father excused himself, saying that he
was watching the movements of the enemy’s infantry, for he had learned
from a wounded Flemish soldier (one of the heretics), that the enemy
proposed, after a feigned retreat, to make a sudden assault on our
camp at its weakest point. With this, and on the intercession of some
soldiers, who knew my father to be a man of courage and honour, Captain
Luis Quijada pardoned him, on condition that at daybreak--”
“Stay--stay! Señor Licentiate,” said I, “whither are you straying?
You were speaking of the ingenious hidalgo, Don Quixote de la Mancha,
and, after fluttering like a butterfly from flower to flower, you
have wandered to the heroic deeds of your father in the Flanders war.
Between the one subject and the other, there is as much affinity as
that existing between Mingo Rebulgo and Calaynos.”[56]
To this the bachelor replied--“Such as I am, God has made me.
Aristotle, you know, condemns taciturn people, and the old proverb
says:--‘against the silent man be on your guard.’ Therefore I think it
is well to be talkative.”
“But, señor,” I presumed, “if you will do me the favour to listen (this
I said, observing his loquacious disposition,) I would remind you of
another of our old Spanish proverbs, which is _al buen callar llaman
sago_.[G] And there is another old saying, _que dice el pandero no es
todo vero_.”[57]
“Right,” answered the bachelor, “and no doubt you have heard the
proverb _andando gana la aceña que no estándose queda_.[58] Therefore,
sir, with your good leave, I will relate to you how my father came to
be made a Captain.
“It happened one day during a violent onset with the Flemish troops,
that he was going about the camp, seeking a convenient place wherein
he might take refuge (this, you must know, was before I was born or
even begotten), for he thought it would be well to preserve himself for
greater deeds. Therefore, he was looking about for a place of safety,
where, alike unobserved by the troops of the Spanish camp and by those
of the League, he might save his life and person, as I have said, for
greater things.”
“Rather say for smaller things,” interrupted I, “since he saved himself
to become your father. Now, seeing that you are so very little, and
that your father saved himself to beget you, how can it be said that he
saved himself for greater things?”
To this my companion replied, that though he knew himself to be very
little, yet that he was not so diminutive as some persons affected to
think him.
“But,” added he, pursuing his story, “you must know that my father was
going about the camp in the way I have described, and seeing that the
two wings of the Imperial army were hotly engaged with the enemy, he
felt impelled to lay his hand on his sword; a trusty weapon, which,
though it had been unsheathed, and had seen daylight on several
occasions of urgent necessity, yet, on all those occasions, it had
modestly shrunk back into the scabbard unstained with hostile blood. To
tell all my father’s valorous deeds in the battle, would be a long and
tedious tale; but the sum of his prowess is well known to fame in my
native place, Villar del Olmo, and its environs. Laden with upwards of
thirty heads of the heretics whom he had slain, he presented himself,
after the victory, to the illustrious emperor, who was at that moment
engaged in dictating to his _maestre de campo_, Alonzo Vivas, the three
notable words of Julius Cæsar, which he repeated in Spanish, altering
the third, as became a Christian prince, in this wise,--‘_Vine, vi y
Dios venció_.’[H] The emperor, elated with his victory, and thinking
it a fitting time to distribute rewards, conferred on my father the
rank of captain. And though there were not wanting malicious tongues to
declare that my father had cut off the heads from dead bodies, as they
lay on the field of battle, yet nevertheless he was made a captain,
in spite of the murmurs of envious slanderers, who are at all times
ready to disturb the peace of the community; and in truth, whether my
father’s merits were great or small, he did not think it advisable to
make them a matter of dispute.”
“Now,” said I, “since you have at length brought your story to an end
we will again turn to this book called ‘_Don Quixote_.’ You say it
is full of absurdities and nonsense, but I do assure you that some
who have read it, pronounce it to be as entertaining as any work ever
written in Spain, and they affirm that it is full of humour and truth.
True, it is sailing with no very fair wind over the stormy ocean of
criticism; which is only one of the many misfortunes that assail its
author; but the tardiness of the learned to approve this work, may
possibly redound to its future fame and glory.”
“This book,” pursued my companion, “which you say is so diverting,
and written with so reasonable and praiseworthy an object, appears to
me exceedingly silly and irrational. Can anything be more absurd than
the idea of curing the taste for reading books of chivalry, (which are
objected to because of their falsehood and extravagance) by the perusal
of another book still more false and extravagant? Who can imagine a man
so infatuated as to put faith in the stories related in such books,
and at length becoming so crazy as to sally from his home in quest of
adventures, fancying himself to be out and out a knight-errant; and not
even the many cudgellings he receives can drive the insane notions from
his head. When did the luckless author ever see such lunatics wandering
at large through the world?”
Hereupon the bachelor ran into a string of questions worthy of that
most indefatigable of questioners the lately defunct Almirante,[I]
and he wound up his interrogatories by saying, “Can any one persuade
himself into the belief that Palmerius of England, Florindos and
Floriandos are to be seen going about armed cap-à-pie, like the figures
in old tapestry on tavern walls?[J] I would advise this author,”
pursued he, “to cultivate for better objects the talent he undoubtedly
possesses, and to write no more such stupid books as this _Don
Quixote_, which will never out-root from the popular mind the vitiated
taste for books of chivalry. I would tell him all this and much more,
for I am not at a loss for words, neither am I wanting in memory or
information; and I feel a desire to correct and castigate the faults of
others, though unluckily I cannot mend my own. Moreover, you must know,
that I am a philosopher, and that I have studied in the new school of
Doña Oliva,[K] the knowledge of myself; and whosoever acquires self
knowledge, may be said to possess no trivial attainment. Let me tell
you, moreover, that the doctrine of Doña Oliva is not to be despised
because it comes from a woman; for there have been many women in the
world whose learning has entitled them to respect and admiration.
Without looking back to remoter times, I may mention the recently
deceased Countess de Tendilla, the mother of the three Mendozas, whose
names will be proclaimed to remote ages by the voice of Fame.[L] Then
there was Madama Passier, whose rare genius and eloquence have been
swept away by death, like the vine by the keen wind of October. In
honour of her literary attainments that lady was buried with pompous
funeral rites, and many learned men have written elegies to her memory.
There is a book of letters by Madama Passier, full of erudition and
sound morality, which I would recommend to the attention of the author
of _Don Quixote_.”[M]
“How, friend bachelor,” exclaimed I, “do you deny that knights-errant
are existing in the world in this our age of iron? And does your
memory so far fail that you forget how many persons implicitly believe
all the extravagant stories related in books of chivalry,--stories
which every one, down to the most ignorant of the common people,
know by heart? Need I call to your recollection the mad exploits of
that famous knight, Don Suero de Quiñones, who, with nine gentlemen,
his companions, demanded leave of the most high and puissant King of
Castile, John II. to rescue his liberty, (held captive by a lady)
by breaking three hundred lances in the space of thirty days, with
certain knights and gentlemen who might enter the lists against
him. And surely you must remember how the said knight, Don Suero de
Quiñones defended the Honroso Paso, near the bridge of Orbigo; and
how he was there disburthened of the iron collar which he wore every
Thursday round his neck in token of servitude and captivity. And with
him fought in defence of the pass, Lope de Estuñiga, Diego de Bazán,
Pedro de Nava, and other hidalgos, to the number of nine, all of them
devoted knights-errant. They shivered lances with more than seventy
adventurers, who went thither to prove their skill and prowess.
Surely these were knights-errant of real flesh and blood, and not
mere puppets. The conflict of the Paso Honroso is narrated in a book
written by a friar named Pineda, who abridged it from an old manuscript
work.[N] Moreover, friend bachelor, have you not heard of the adventure
of the Canon Almela, who was at the conquest of Grenada, with two
horsemen and seven followers on foot? Such was his veneration for
knight-errantry and everything connected with it, that he collected and
preserved all sorts of old and worthless objects, because he believed
they had belonged to certain renowned heroes of the days of chivalry.
He wore girded at his side a sword which he affirmed had belonged
to the Cid Ruy Díaz.[O] This he said he knew from certain letters
inscribed on the sword, though, in fact, those letters were perfectly
illegible, and neither he nor any one else could decipher them.”
“All that you say is perfectly true, Señor Soldado,” replied the
bachelor; “and I have only to observe that the events to which you
allude are all of old date. Without going quite so far back, let us
see what happened in the time of the Emperor Charles V., who directed
a certain Bishop of Bordeaux, (and he would have cared as little for
saying the same to Archbishop Turpin) to inform the King of France
that he had acted with rudeness and discourtesy. Whereupon a messenger
was shortly after despatched from the said King of France, and another
from King Henry of England, summoning the emperor to meet them in the
lists conformably with the laws of chivalry. Now, I recollect having
been told by my father, (who was a man well versed in these points of
honour, though he did not himself act upon them, for certain reasons of
his own,) that the great emperor finding himself challenged with all
the solemnity of the laws of the duelo, took counsel of his cousin,
Don Diego, Duke del Infantado, as to the course he ought to pursue.[P]
Don Diego advised him by no means to accept the challenge; for seeing
that the King of France owed his majesty a large debt, the consequence
would be that all debts, known and acknowledged would be settled by
recourse to arms, a thing at variance with reason and justice. Rest
assured that such absurd encounters have no existence save in silly
books of chivalry, and in plays which in our time have been taken from
them, but which in the time of Lope de Rueda, Gil Vicente, and Alonso
de Cisneros would not have been tolerated on the stage.”[Q]
“Nevertheless,” pursued my loquacious companion, after a brief pause,
“methinks I should like to see a return of the good old days of
knight-errantry. How I should enjoy setting forth some fine morning
to the chase, with hounds and huntsmen, dressed in the _cuero_,[59]
lined with squirrel skin, such as used to be worn by great lords when
they went a-hunting, and with a horn slung round my neck. And when in
the thickets of the forest, suppose a storm should come on, the wind
blowing and the rain pouring, and in midst of the darkness, suppose
I should lose my way in an intricate place, where no one can venture
to penetrate for fear of the wild beasts that infest it. And there,
perchance, I meet a courteous prince, comely and valiant, who like
myself has lost his way. The young prince may have left his court and
wandered unattended in quest of adventures. He may be named the Knight
of the Griffin, or the Knight of the Red Scarf. He is courteous and
fair of speech, and seeing in me a knight of noble comportment, he
kindly offers me consolation in my trouble. And lo! all on a sudden
there appears an ugly little dwarf, who says, ‘Prepare, Knight of the
Griffin, or of the Red Scarf, (or whatsoever surname he may bear,)
prepare for the most marvellous adventure that ever knight-errant
encountered. Know that the Princess Bacalambruna, who by the death
of her father, Borborifon, (he of the wry nose,) has become mistress
of the fair castle whose white walls rise in yonder plain, is deeply
enamoured of you, whom she regards as the model of perfection in
chivalry. When night draws her dark mantle over the earth, wend your
way to the castle, whose gates will be open to receive you; there the
beauteous princess awaits your coming.’
“With these words the hideous little dwarf vanishes. Then let us
suppose that the Knight of the Griffin, addressing himself to me,
declares that he cannot go to the enchanted castle to visit the
princess, because he is in love with the beauteous Arsinda, the
daughter of King Trapobana Quinquirlimpuz. Hearing this I determine
to go in his stead, and to present myself to the lovely Princess
Bacalambruna. Mounting my fiery steed I gallop off, and speedily reach
the gates of the enchanted castle. I enter without any one attempting
to stop me, and, what is still more strange, without any one coming out
to greet me, a thing quite at variance with the laws of courtesy. We
will suppose that night has now set in, and I find in the court-yard of
the castle a torch ready lighted. Straightway it places itself before
my eyes, and moves onward to light me. The torch leading the way, and I
following, I soon find myself in a splendid palace, all glittering with
gold, silver, and precious stones. I enter a sumptuous chamber, covered
with a carpet of silk, embroidered with gold, where I behold the
Princess Bacalambruna anxiously awaiting the arrival of the Knight of
the Griffin. She is surprised and alarmed on beholding me, and enraged
at the disappointment, she rushes from the chamber to give orders for
my death. With this, I appeal for succour to a malignant old enchanter,
who shews his malice by pretending not to hear me. But my lucky star
ordains that a lady, on whom I never bestowed a thought, though, on
her part, she is deeply enamoured of me, and who is one of the noblest
ladies in all the realm of Transylvania, (Mari Hernández or Juana
Pérez, by name,) at that moment enters the apartment. Taking me by the
hand, she conducts me to the great hall of the castle, where several
fierce-looking men are waiting in readiness to dispatch me. They are
about to draw their swords, but good fortune once more befriends me,
and Doña Mari Hernández addresses them, saying,--
“‘Hold, Señores! this is not the knight whom the princess has ordered
you to put to death. This is only a squire who is going to travel
across the seas. When the knight comes out kill him.’
“With this the lady conducts me to the castle-gate, where I mount my
horse. The lady heaves a deep sigh, and I promise to wed her when I
return to the castle, which, however, in consideration of the danger I
have so narrowly escaped, I resolved never to do.
“Suppose that once more I set out to seek my fortune, and that after
journeying for a time I arrive in a town where the lists are prepared
for a grand tournament. There I behold the emperor and his daughter.
The princess is arrayed in rich brocade, and seated in a chair of state
adorned with jewels. She is frightfully ugly, but in spite of that she
has come to preside at the tournament, flattering herself that some
adventurous knight will enter the lists to compete for the possession
of her superlative charms. Seeing that no one is in a hurry to offer,
I propose to try my fortune. But at sight of me the spectators
immediately begin to shout scoffingly,--‘Here comes the Knight of the
Hump--the flower of chivalry!’
“Undismayed, I spur my horse and gallop into the lists, where I shiver
a lance in the presence of the emperor and his daughter. Thereupon the
princess falls in love with me, and entreats her father’s leave to
bestow upon me her hand. The emperor consents, and calling me to the
platform, he rewards my gallantry with the hand of the princess, who
has for her dower a kingdom, and for her subjects a nation of dwarfs.
Thus, from a bachelor of Salamanca (and not of Alcalá), I become
nothing less than a king.”[60]
“Friend bachelor,” observed I, “for the life of me I cannot comprehend
how the just and reasonable reply of the Duke del Infantado to the
invincible emperor, can warrant the inference that knights-errant were
at that period banished from the world. On the contrary, we know that
Micer Oliver de la Marcha was then living, though in a very advanced
old age. He was a knight of the court of the Duke of Burgundy, Philip
the Good, and he afterwards figured in the court of the duke’s
daughter, Doña María, the consort of the Emperor Maximilian, and mother
of Philip the Fair. This same Oliver de la Marcha married Doña Juana,
a daughter of the King of Castile, and he wrote a book entitled _El
Caballero Determinado_, which like many of the romances of chivalry
then circulated, was very ingenious, though full of extravagances. _El
Caballero Determinado_ was written in French, from which language it
was translated by Don Hernando de Acuña, who transferred it into very
graceful Castilian verse.[R]
“Moreover you must also recollect what is related of Mario de Abenante,
a Neapolitan knight, who challenged another knight, Don Francisco
Pandon, also of Naples. Both entered the lists furiously defying each
other. Don Francisco made a thrust at Mario’s horse, and wounded the
animal, so that he was well-nigh falling. Mario was unconscious of his
danger until his uncle, who was within the lists, beckoned him to
dismount, which he did, and then, with great alertness, he inflicted
a wound on the horse of his adversary. The animal became restive, and
began to kick and plunge in such a manner that Don Francisco found
himself constrained to surrender. Mario’s conduct on this occasion
called forth severe censure from all who witnessed it, and he was
declared to be a coward and a traitor. Neither can you have forgotten
other feats of knight-errantry which have taken place in these present
times; as for example, that passage of arms when a knight named Leres
challenged another named Martín López. Both met in single combat in
Rome, armed with lances and cuirasses. In the midst of the conflict
it happened that the horse of Martín López stumbled and fell. López
was stunned by the fall, and Leres, thinking it cowardly to strike his
adversary as he lay on the ground, was preparing to dismount; but in so
doing he also stumbled and fell. Seeing this accident, Martín López,
with an effort, raised himself up, and fearing lest fortune should not
grant him such another opportunity, he turned upon Leres, and in that
cowardly manner subdued him. Setting aside all these events, you cannot
but recollect the happy journey of King Don Philip II. (now in glory),
who, when he was Infante, travelled from Spain into his territories in
Flanders and Brabant. The whole history is in print, as related by Juan
Calvete de Estrella.”[S]
“I know the book you speak of,” eagerly interrupted the bachelor. “It
is one of the most entertaining that ever appeared since the world
has been the world, or at least since the art of printing has been
known. It contains nothing but truth, and that cannot be said of the
writings of all historians, some of whom give currency to falsehood
by narrating events which never took place.[T] My father was in the
suite of the Infante in that journey to Flanders; but in consequence
of an adventure with a lady in which he became entangled, he was
forced to return in all haste to Spain. On his road, he encountered
more adventures than ever befel that Monster of Fortune,[61] Antonio
Pérez.[V] Finally, he was returning home angry and fretful, like one
stung by an asp----.”
Here I cut him short, for I was fearful that he was preparing to enter
upon one of his tedious and inapt tales. So imitating the serpent,
which, with curious perversity, closes her ears when she wishes not to
hear the enchanter’s voice, I pretended not to hear what he was saying,
and I thus proceeded,
“In Binche, as you probably know, sundry knights who were in that
town appeared in the presence of the emperor _Semper Augusto_, and
the prince his son. They stated that a certain enchanter, a foe to
virtue and knight-errantry, and one whom all accounts describe to
have been more malignant than Arcalaus,[U] and a greater heretic than
Constantino,[W] had taken refuge in Gallia Belgica, and somewhere near
to the town of Binche.”
“Do you not recollect the name of that enchanter?” eagerly interrupted
the bachelor.
“No, on my faith, I do not,” replied I; “but I doubt not he had a very
hideous name; like all those evil spirits whose mischievous doings are
narrated in books of chivalry. I have heard of a certain author who,
during the space of several days, puzzled himself sorely to fix on
a name for an enchanter whom he introduced into one of his stories.
His object was to find a pompous, high-sounding name, which would
be expressive of the enchanter’s character. The author in question
happened one day to be visiting the house of a friend where he and
others were playing at cards. During the game, the master of the
house calling to one of the servants, said,--‘_Hola Cœlio! trae aquí
cantos!_’--(Hola Cœlio! bring hither some stones!)[62] These words
fell with such sonorous emphasis on the ear of our author, that he
immediately rose from the card-table, and, without taking leave of his
friends, he straightway hurried home, where he wrote down the name
_Traquicantos_, with which he baptized his enchanter....