TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
The book cover was modified by the Transcriber and added to the public
domain.
The Table of Contents was added by the Transcriber. The numbering of
the chapters in the table of contents follows the sequence observed
in the original images of the book, which is not successive. In the
original book not all the chapters that made up the original work in
Spanish had been included. The Translator mentions having taken some
"liberties" (sic) (see PREFACE).
For instance, in Book 3 and Book 4 of this edition a note by the
Translator is included at the end of Chapter V of Book 3 mentioning
that "there are here three chapters omitted, Chap. 6, 7, and 8, in
order to shorten the Story a little, and not possessing much interest
or merit."
Note 9 is listed at the end, but is missing in the main text, however
not clear if a consequence of the cuts made by the Translator, as
footnotes and the Notes listed at the end belong to the Translator.
The spelling of Spanish names and places in Spain mentioned in the text
has been adjusted to the rules set by the Academia Real Española.
A number of words in this book have both hyphenated and non-hyphenated
variants. For the words with both variants present the one more used
has been kept.
Punctuation and other printing errors have been corrected.
* * * * *
A Castilian of refined manners, a gentleman, true to religion and
true to honour, a scholar and a soldier, fought under the banners
of Don John of Austria, at Lepanto; lost his arm, and was captured;
endured slavery not only with fortitude, but with mirth; and, by the
superiority of nature, mastered and overawed his Barbarian owner;
finally ransomed, he resumed his native destiny--the awful task of
achieving Fame.
The world was a drama to him; his own thoughts, in spite of poverty
and sickness, perpetuated for him the feelings of youth; he painted
only what he knew and had looked into, but he knew and had looked into
much indeed; and his imagination was ever at hand to adapt and modify
the world of his experience; of delicious love, he fabled, yet with
stainless virtue.
CERVANTES: _A Lecture, by Coleridge, in 1818_.
THE WANDERINGS OF PERSILES AND SIGISMUNDA;
A NORTHERN STORY.
BY MIGUEL DE CERVANTES SAAVEDRA.
[Illustration]
LONDON:
JOSEPH CUNDALL, 168, NEW BOND STREET.
1854.
TO
THE HON. EDWARD LYULPH STANLEY,
IN MEMORY OF THOSE DAYS
WHEN HE AND HIS BROTHER
FIRST MADE ACQUAINTANCE WITH
THE WONDERFUL ADVENTURES AND TROUBLES OF
THE BEAUTIFUL PILGRIMS,
THIS WORK
IS INSCRIBED BY
THE TRANSLATOR.
[Illustration]
PREFACE BY THE TRANSLATOR.
This Romance was the last work of Cervantes, the dedication to the
Count de Lemos was written the day after he had received extreme
unction; he died four days after, on the 23rd of April 1616, aged 67.
On that same day in that same year England lost her Shakespeare.[A]
In the Preface to this edition, the Editor says, "Not a few are there
among the wise and learned, who, notwithstanding the well-known merit
of all the works of the famous Spaniard, Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra,
and in spite of the oft repeated praises lavished especially upon
the Life and Deeds of Don Quixote de la Mancha, which has ever held
the foremost place in the estimation of the public, yet give the
preference above all to The Troubles of Persiles and Sigismunda, which
I am about to present to the public anew in this edition."
It seems, too, that this was the opinion of Cervantes himself; for
in his dedication to the Count de Lemos, which is affixed to the
second part of Don Quixote, he says, "offering to your Excellency
the Troubles of Persiles and Sigismunda, a book I hope to finish in
about four months (Deo volente), which is to be either the very best
or the very worst hitherto composed in our language, I speak of books
of entertainment, and indeed I repent of having said, the very worst,
because, according to the opinion of my friends, it will reach the
extreme of goodness."
Sismondi also says the same in speaking of this work, and of its
estimation in Spain; but he goes on to observe, "a foreigner will not,
I should imagine, concede to it so much merit: it is the offspring of a
rich, but at the same time of a wandering imagination, which confines
itself within no bounds of the possible or the probable, and which is
not sufficiently founded on reality. He has entitled this Romance 'A
Northern Story,' and his complete ignorance of the North, in which
his scene is laid, and which he imagines to be a land of Barbarians,
Anthropophagi, Pagans, and Enchanters, is sufficiently singular."
The truth of this cannot be denied; but I believe that it has never yet
been translated into English,[B] and, as it certainly possesses great
merits in spite of the absurdities, and a good deal of imagination as
well as beauty (though I fear much of the latter will be lost in a
translation) as a work of Cervantes it appears to me worthy of being
introduced to English readers.
The plan of the story is plainly imitated from Heliodorus, Bishop of
Tricca, in Thessaly, who in his youth wrote a Romance in the Greek
language, called The Æthiopian History; or, the Adventures of two
Lovers, Chariclea, the daughter of the King of Ethiopia, and Theagenes,
a noble Thessalian. He lived in the reigns of Theodosius and Arcadius,
about the end of the fourth century.
Few modern readers, I imagine, would have patience to read this very
heavy Romance; but in 1590, when Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia was
published, stories of amusement and interest were not as plentiful
as in the present day, and it was a short time before that Romance
appeared, that a translation of Heliodorus's Æthiopic History was
published in England. The edition which I have seen is translated by N.
Tate, the first five books by "a Person of Quality." The date is 1753.
The other editions are 1587, 1622, 1686.
But though the _plan_ of Persiles and Sigismunda is taken from
Heliodorus, I do not think they have _any_ resemblance in style, and
there is far more vivacity and humour in the narrative and characters,
and more nature too, in spite of the high flown romance that surrounds
them.
I fear the modern reader will find the numerous episodes tedious; and
story after story, which every additional personage we meet, thinks it
necessary to relate, will perhaps try his patience; yet there is great
beauty in many of these, at least in the original language.
The remarkable ignorance which Cervantes displays on geographical
points has a parallel in our own Shakespeare, who makes Bohemia a
country with a sea coast.
Cervantes has evidently formed his ideas of the North only by the
voyages and travels that were published at the time he lived. It is
more surprising that he should know so little of England, considering
how much his own country had been connected with her, and also from the
knowledge and information he displays on other subjects.
The chief fault in the work is the remarkable want of keeping; for
whereas he at once determines the period and date by bringing in the
expulsion of the Moors and Soldiers who served under Charles the 5th,
also speaking of Lisbon as belonging to Spain, at the same time he
throws his personages into a perfect land of Romance, and speaks of all
the northern countries, as if themselves, their manners and customs,
were utterly unknown and barbarous; yet Elizabeth or James the 1st was
reigning in England; the queen of James the 1st was a Danish princess,
and Denmark and Sweden were assuredly not unknown to fame.
In fixing upon Iceland and Friesland as the dominions of his hero and
heroine, he gets upon safer ground, though by the way in which he
speaks of them, he evidently considers this a sort of mysterious and
only half understood land, which might serve a wandering prince or
princess of romance, for a home, for want of a better.
The first and second part differ considerably; when Cervantes gets home
to his own bright clime and sunny skies, you feel the truth of his
descriptions, which form a striking contrast to the icy seas and snowy
islands among which his pilgrims are voyaging throughout the whole
first volume.
I have taken some few liberties, omitted some pages, and occasionally
shortened a sentence, but I do not think the English reader will feel
inclined to quarrel with these abbreviations, and the Spanish student
can refer to the original.
To those who feel for Cervantes as he deserves,--to those who have
enjoyed the rich fund of amusement that Don Quixote affords, I need not
apologise further for making them also acquainted with these wondrously
beautiful and almost angelic pilgrims, who were the last productions
of his lively imagination, for assuredly those blue eyes and golden
ringlets must have been most unlike the visions of beauty that dwelt
around him, in his own land of Spain.
* * * * *
_Postscript._--For the Portrait of Cervantes, which enriches the title
page, I have to thank the great kindness and friendly aid of one, who
has gained a distinguished name as an author, in the service of both
Spanish Art and Spanish History, Mr. Stirling of Keir. I have also to
acknowledge the courtesy of Sir Arthur Aston, to whom the original
picture belongs, from which I have been permitted to take my engraving;
it was brought by him from Madrid, and he found it in the possession
of a family where it was highly prized, and considered as an undoubted
Portrait of Cervantes.
_July, 1853._ L. D. S.
FOOTNOTES:
[A] Mr. Ticknor has, since this was written, bestowed upon us the
unwelcome piece of information that this is a mistake, in consequence
of the English and Spanish Calendar differing by ten days.
[B] Since writing this I find that there was a translation from the
French (not Spanish), in 1619, by M. L. printed in London. Florian
mentions two French Translations, both bad.
[Illustration]
DEDICATION
TO DON PEDRO FERNÁNDEZ DE CASTRO, COUNT OF LEMOS, ANDRADE AND VILLALVA,
MARQUIS OF SARRIA, ETC.
There is an old couplet which was famous in its day, that began "With
one foot in the stirrup already." I could have wished in this epistle
of mine, that this was not so much to the purpose as it is, for I may
begin nearly in the same words, saying--
"With my foot in the stirrup already,
And the terrors of death before my eyes,
I write, noble Marquis, to thee."
Yesterday I received extreme unction, and to-day I write this. Time
is short, fears increase, hopes diminish; yet, nevertheless, I could
wish my life prolonged enough to be able once more to kiss your feet,
so great would be my delight in seeing your Excellency once again in
Spain, that it would almost be new life to me; but if it be decreed
that I am to lose it the will of Heaven be done; and at least you shall
know this wish of mine, and you shall know that in me you had a truly
loving servant, who would have gladly done more than die for your
service; and I rejoice in the prospect of your Lordship's arrival, I
rejoice in seeing it even afar off, and again I rejoice to think that
the hopes I have entertained of your Lordship's goodness will prove
true.
There still remain unfinished in my head certain reliques and fancies,
"The weeks in a Garden," and of the famous Bernardo, if I were so happy
(but it could not be without a miracle) that Heaven would prolong my
life, you should see them, and also the end of the Galatea which I know
your Lordship much admires.
May God preserve your Lordship, as he alone can.
Your Excellency's Servant,
MIGUEL DE CERVANTES.
_Madrid_,
19th of April, 1616.
[Illustration]
PROLOGUE.
It happened then, dear Reader, that as I and two of my friends were
coming from Esquivias,--a place famous for a thousand reasons, first on
account of its many illustrious families, and secondly for its equally
illustrious wines,--I heard some one behind me pricking along in great
haste as if desirous of overtaking us, and even proving it by calling
out to desire we would not go so fast. We waited, and a gray student
mounted upon an ass came up to us, gray--because his whole dress was
gray. He wore gaiters, round-toed shoes and a sword in a good scabbard
(contera).[C] He wore a starched band, with equal braids; it is true
he had but two, so that the band got every minute awry, and he took
infinite pains and trouble to set it right. Coming up to us, he said,
"To judge by the haste with which you travel, gentlemen, you must be
going to court to look after some place or Prebendal stall; My Lord of
Toledo, or the King must be there at least, for truly my ass has been
famed for his paces more than once, and yet could not overtake you?"
To which one of my companions replied, "It is the horse of Senor Miguel
de Cervantes that is in fault, for he is a fast goer." Scarce had the
student heard the name of Cervantes, than alighting from his ass, his
portmanteau falling on one side, and the cushion whereon he sat, on
the other (for he was travelling with all his comforts about him), he
hurried to me and seizing me by the left arm, cried, "Yes, yes, this is
the crippled sound one, the famous man, the merry author, the delight
of the Muses."
I, when I heard so much praise poured forth in so short a space,
thought it would be a lack of courtesy not to answer it, so embracing
him round the neck (by which he lost his bands altogether,) I said,
"This, sir, is an error into which many of my ignorant admirers have
fallen, I am indeed Cervantes, but no favourite of the Muses, nor
deserving of any of the encomiums with which you have been pleased
to honour me. Go and remount your ass, and let us travel on together
in pleasant conversation for the short distance that remains of our
journey."
The polite student did as I desired, we reined in our steeds a little
and pursued our way more leisurely. As we travelled we spoke on the
subject of my ailments, and the good student immediately pronounced my
doom, saying, "This malady is the dropsy, which all the water in the
ocean would not cure, even if it were not salt, you must drink by rule,
sir, and eat more, and this will cure you better than any medicine."
"Many have told me so," I answered, "but I should find it as impossible
to leave off drinking as if I had been born for no other purpose. My
life is well nigh ended and, by the beatings of my pulse, I think next
Sunday at latest will see the close of my career, you have therefore,
sir, made acquaintance with me just at the right moment, though I shall
not have time to show myself grateful for the kindness you have shown
to me."
Here we reached the bridge of Toledo, over which my road lay, and he
separated from me to go by that of Segovia. As to what will be said
of my adventure, Fame will take care of that, my friends will have
pleasure in telling it, and I greater pleasure in hearing it. He again
embraced me, I returned the compliment. He spurred on his ass, and
left me as sorrily disposed as he was sorrily mounted. He had however
furnished me with abundant materials for pleasant writing, but all
times are not alike. Perhaps a time may come when, taking up this
broken thread again, I may add what is now wanting and what I am aware
is needed. Adieu to gaiety, adieu to wit, adieu, my pleasant friends,
for I am dying, yet hoping to see you all again happy in another
world.
FOOTNOTES:
[C] Contera, a piece of brass, tin or silver put at the end of the
scabbard to prevent the sword's point piercing through.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PAGE
PROLOGUE xv
BOOK 1
CHAPTER I 3
CHAPTER II 8
CHAPTER III 17
CHAPTER IV 21
CHAPTER V 30
CHAPTER VI 38
CHAPTER VII 48
CHAPTER VIII 51
CHAPTER IX 58
CHAPTER X 64
CHAPTER XI 71
CHAPTER XII 76
CHAPTER XIII 81
CHAPTER XIV 85
CHAPTER XV 87
CHAPTER XVI 90
CHAPTER XVII 95
CHAPTER XVIII 98
CHAPTER XIX 108
CHAPTER XX 113
CHAPTER XXI 117
CHAPTER XXII 119
CHAPTER XXIII 126
BOOK 2
CHAPTER I 133
CHAPTER II 136
CHAPTER III 144
CHAPTER IV 150
CHAPTER V 155
CHAPTER VI 163
CHAPTER VII 168
CHAPTER VIII 174
CHAPTER IX 181
CHAPTER X 186
CHAPTER XI 190
CHAPTER XII 198
CHAPTER XIII 203
CHAPTER XIV 210
CHAPTER XV 216
CHAPTER XVI 224
CHAPTER XVII 230
CHAPTER XVIII 235
CHAPTER XIX 242
CHAPTER XX 250
CHAPTER XXI 256
CHAPTER XXII 262
BOOK III
CHAPTER I 271
CHAPTER II 280
CHAPTER III 289
CHAPTER IV 295
CHAPTER V 305
CHAPTER IX 311
CHAPTER X 323
CHAPTER XI 332
CHAPTER XII 342
CHAPTER XIII 350
CHAPTER XIV 354
CHAPTER XV 360
CHAPTER XVI 365
CHAPTER XVII 369
CHAPTER XVIII 375
CHAPTER XIX 376
CHAPTER XX 379
CHAPTER XXI 386
BOOK IV
CHAPTER I 395
CHAPTER III 402
CHAPTER IV 407
CHAPTER V 411
CHAPTER VI 414
CHAPTER VII 420
CHAPTER VIII 428
CHAPTER IX 434
CHAPTER X 438
CHAPTER XI 443
CHAPTER XII 448
CHAPTER XIII 454
CHAPTER XIV 459
NOTES
Book I 467
Book II 472
Book III 473
Book IV 474
[Illustration]
BOOK I.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE WANDERINGS[D] OF PERSILES AND SIGISMUNDA.
CHAPTER I.
_Periander is drawn up out of the Dungeon: he goes out to Sea on a
raft: a Tempest comes on, and he is saved by a Ship._
Near the mouth of a deep and narrow dungeon, which was more like a tomb
than a prison to its wretched inmates, stood Corsicurbo, the barbarian.
He shouted with a terrible voice, but, although the fearful clamour was
heard far and near, none could hear his words distinctly, except the
miserable Clelia, an unhappy captive, buried in this abyss. "Clelia,"
he said, "see that the boy who was committed to your custody two days
ago, be bound fast to the cord I am about to let down; see that his
hands are tied behind him, and make him ready to be drawn up here: also
look well if among the women of the last prize there are any beautiful
enough to deserve being brought amongst us, and to enjoy the light of
the clear sky that is above us." So saying, he let down a strong hempen
cord, and for some brief space he and four other barbarians pulled it,
until, with his hands tied strongly behind him, they drew up a boy,
seemingly about nineteen or twenty years of age, drest in linen like a
mariner, but beautiful, exceedingly.
The first thing the barbarians did was to investigate the manacles
and cords with which his hands were tied behind his back; then they
shook the locks of hair, which, like an infinity of rings of pure
gold, covered his head. They cleaned his face, which had been obscured
by dust, and revealed a beauty, so marvellous, that it softened and
touched even the hearts of those who were carrying him to execution.
The gallant boy showed no sort of affliction in his bearing, but with
beaming eyes he uplifted his countenance, and looking round on every
side, with a clear voice and firm accent, he cried, "I give thanks, O
vast and pitying Heavens, that I have been brought out to die where
your light will shine upon my death, and not where those dark dungeons,
from which I have just arisen, would have covered me with their gloomy
horrors; I would wish, because I am a Christian, not to die in despair
at least, although my misfortunes are such as to make me almost desire
it."
None of this speech was understood by the barbarians, being spoken in
a different language from theirs; so, closing the mouth of the cavern
with a large stone, and carrying the boy, still bound, among the
four, they arrived at the sea-shore, where they had a raft of timber
fastened together with strong filaments of bark and flexible osiers.
This contrivance served them, as soon appeared, for a boat, in which
they crossed to another island, about two or three miles distant. They
leaped upon the raft, and put their prisoner seated in the midst of
them. Immediately one of the barbarians took a great bow that was in
the raft, and fitting into it an enormous arrow, the point of which was
made of flint, he quickly bent it, and looking the boy in the face,
made him his mark, giving signs as if he would shoot him through the
heart. The other barbarians took three heavy poles, cut like oars, and
whilst one used his as a rudder, the other two impelled the raft in
the direction of the island before mentioned. The beautiful boy, who
alternately hoped and feared the blow of the threat'ning dart, rounded
his shoulders, compressed his lips, arched his brows, and in deep
silence asked in his heart of Heaven, not to be delivered from this
death, as near as it was cruel, but that he might have strength given
him to suffer. The savage archer, seeing this, and knowing that it was
not by this manner of death he was to die; finding even in his hard
heart some pity for the boy, and not desiring to give him a protracted
suffering, still kept the arrow pointed at his breast, but put the bow
aside, and let him know by signs, as well as he could, that he did not
wish to kill him.
Thus it befell, when the raft reached the middle of the strait, formed
by the two islands, that there arose a sudden hurricane, which the
inexperienced mariners had no power to withstand; the timbers that
formed the raft, came asunder, and divided into parts, leaving in one
(which might be composed of about six planks) the boy, who feared that
the waves would speedily overwhelm him, and that by this death he was
to die. Wild whirlwinds tossed the waters, contrary blasts contended
together. The barbarians were all overwhelmed, and the planks, with
the fast-bound captive, went out into the open sea, passing over the
crests of the waves; not only impelling him towards heaven, but denying
him the power of asking compassion from it in his distress: yet had
Providence cared for him; the furious waves that every moment washed
over him did not separate him from his raft, and he was carried by them
into the abyss. As he was bound fast, with his hands behind his back,
he could not assist himself, or make the smallest effort to preserve
his life.
In this way, as I have said, he went out into the open sea, which
appeared more peaceful on turning a point of land into a bay, where the
planks floated wonderfully, defended from the raging and angry sea.
The weary youth felt this, and he looked around on every side, till he
discovered near him a ship, which was lying at anchor in this quiet
place as in a secure haven.
Those in the ship also perceived the raft and the figure that was upon
it. To satisfy themselves what this might be, they let down their boat,
and came to look at him, when they found the disfigured yet still
beautiful boy: with speed and pity they took him to the ship, where the
sight filled every one with wonder and admiration. He was lifted in
by the sailors, and not being able to stand from weakness (for it was
three days since he had tasted food), and moreover, being wetted and
maltreated by the waves, he sunk down all at once on the deck. Touched
with natural compassion, the captain kindly ordered that he should have
instant assistance to restore him.
Immediately some hastened to take off the ligatures that bound him,
others to bring odoriferous wines, with which remedies the fainting
boy returned as if out of death to life, and raising his eyes to the
captain, whose noble mien and rich attire declared his rank, as did
his speech also, he said to him: "May the pitying Heavens reward thee,
O compassionate sir, for the good deed thou hast done. For all the
benefits bestowed on me I can make no return, such are my misfortunes,
unless it be with my gratitude; and if it be allowed to a poor
afflicted creature to say good of himself, I know this, that in being
grateful no one on earth can excel me." And here he attempted to rise
and kiss the captain's hand, but his weak condition would not permit
this, for thrice he tried and thrice fell back on the deck.
The captain seeing this, ordered him to be raised up and carried
below, his wet garments taken off, and that he should be dressed in
others, clean and good, and then left to rest and sleep. They did as
he commanded; the boy obeyed in silence, and the captain's admiration
increased when he saw him thus attired: his desire to learn as quickly
as possible who he was, and what had brought him into such a strait,
was strong, but his courtesy exceeded his curiosity, and he desired him
to repose and recover from his fatigues before satisfying his wish.
FOOTNOTES:
[D] The word is _Trabajos_ which means troubles, sufferings, labours;
but I have preferred the word Wanderings, though not a right
translation.
[Illustration]