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THE HISTORY
OF
DON QUIXOTE DE LA MANCHA.
[Illustration: Don Quixote.]
[Illustration:
The
history
of
Don Quixote
de la mancha
LONDON
Edward Lumley.]
The history
of
Don Quixote de la Mancha.
From the Spanish of Cervantes.
REVISED FOR GENERAL READING.
TO WHICH IS PREFIXED
A Sketch of the Life and Writings of the Author.
Second Edition,
WITH ADDITIONAL ILLUSTRATIONS.
London:
James Burns
mdcccxlviii.
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAGE
I. The quality and way of living of Don Quixote 1
II. Which treats of Don Quixote's first sally 5
III. An account of the pleasant method taken by Don Quixote to
be dubbed a knight 8
IV. What befell the Knight after he had left the inn 12
V. A further account of our Knight's misfortunes 17
VI. Of the pleasant and curious scrutiny which the Curate and
the Barber made of the library of our ingenious gentleman 20
VII. Don Quixote's second sally in quest of adventures 24
VIII. Of the good success which the valorous Don Quixote had
in the most terrifying and incredible adventure of the Windmills,
with other transactions worthy to be transmitted to posterity 26
IX. What passed between Don Quixote and the Goatherds 29
X. A continuation of the story of Marcella 33
XI. The sage discourse continued; with the adventures of a
dead body 47
XII. Which treats of the grand adventure of Mambrino's helmet,
with other things which befell our invincible Knight 57
XIII. Of what befell Don Quixote in the Sierra Morena, being one
of the most extraordinary adventures related in this faithful
history 66
XIV. A continuation of the adventure in the Sierra Morena 72
XV. Of what happened to Don Quixote's Squire, with the famous
device of the Curate and the Barber 84
XVI. How the Priest and the Barber proceeded in their project;
with other things worthy of being related 88
XVII. Of the new and agreeable adventure that befell the Priest
and the Barber, and of the beautiful Dorothea 96
XVIII. Which treats of the beautiful Dorothea's discretion;
with other particulars 102
XIX. Of the ingenious method pursued to withdraw our enamoured
Knight from the rigorous penance which he had imposed on
himself 108
XX. The pleasant dialogue between Don Quixote and his Squire
continued; with other adventures 115
XXI. What befell Don Quixote and his company at the inn 121
XXII. Of the dreadful battle betwixt Don Quixote and certain
Wine-skins 125
XXIII. Containing an account of many surprising accidents in
the inn 127
XXIV. The history of the famous Princess Micomicona continued;
with other pleasant adventures 132
XXV. A continuation of Don Quixote's curious and excellent
discourse upon arms and learning 137
XXVI. Of occurrences at the inn; and of many other things worthy
to be known 139
XXVII. The agreeable history of the young muleteer; with other
strange accidents 141
XXVIII. A continuation of the extraordinary adventures that
happened in the inn 145
XXIX. In which the dispute concerning Mambrino's helmet is
decided; with other adventures that really and truly happened 148
XXX. The notable adventure of the Holy Brotherhood; with an
account of the ferocity of our good Knight, Don Quixote 151
XXXI. Of the strange and wonderful manner in which Don Quixote
de la Mancha was enchanted; with other remarkable occurrences 156
XXXII. Of the ingenious contest between Don Quixote and the
Canon; with other incidents 161
XXXIII. The Goatherd's narrative 164
XXXIV. Of the quarrel between Don Quixote and the Goatherd,
with the rare adventure of the Disciplinants 167
XXXV. What passed between the Curate, the Barber, and Don
Quixote, concerning his indisposition 172
XXXVI. Of the memorable quarrel between Sancho Panza and Don
Quixote's Niece and Housekeeper; with other pleasant passages 178
XXXVII. The pleasant discourse between Don Quixote, Sancho Panza,
and the bachelor Samson Carrasco 181
XXXVIII. The discourse continued; also the wise and pleasant
dialogue between Sancho Panza and Teresa Panza his wife; together
with other passages worthy of happy memory 185
XXXIX. What passed between Don Quixote, his Niece, and the
Housekeeper; being one of the most important chapters in the
whole history 189
XL. Don Quixote's success in his journey to visit the Lady
Dulcinea del Toboso 192
XLI. That gives an account of things which you will know when
you have read it 196
XLII. Wherein is related the stratagem practised by Sancho, of
enchanting the Lady Dulcinea; with other events no less ludicrous
than true 198
XLIII. Of the strange adventure which befell the valorous Don
Quixote with the cart, or Death's caravan 202
XLIV. Of the strange adventure which befell the valorous Don
Quixote with the brave Knight of the Mirrors 206
XLV. Wherein is continued the adventure of the Knight of the
Wood, with the wise and witty dialogue between the two Squires 210
XLVI. Continuation again of the adventure of the Knight of the
Wood 213
XLVII. Giving an account of the Knight of the Mirrors and his
Squire 220
XLVIII. Of what befell Don Quixote with a worthy gentleman of
La Mancha 223
XLIX. Where you will find set forth the highest proof that Don
Quixote ever gave, or could give, of his courage; with the
successful issue of the adventure of the Lions 227
L. How Don Quixote was entertained at the castle or house of the
Knight of the Green Coat, with other extraordinary matters 232
LI. The adventure of the Shepherd-Lover, and other truly comical
passages 235
LII. An account of rich Camacho's wedding, and what befell poor
Basil 239
LIII. The progress of Camacho's wedding; with other delightful
accidents 242
LIV. An account of the great adventure of Montesinos' cave 247
LV. Of the wonderful things which the unparalleled Don Quixote
declared he had seen in the deep cave of Montesinos, the
greatness and impossibility of which make this adventure
pass for apocryphal 250
LVI. Which gives an account of a thousand trifles and stories,
as impertinent as necessary to the right understanding of this
grand history 256
LVII. Where you find the grounds of the braying adventures,
that of the Puppet-player, and the memorable divining of the
fortune-telling Ape 260
LVIII. A pleasant account of the Puppet-play; with other very
good things 266
LIX. Wherein is shewn Don Quixote's ill success in the braying
adventure, which did not end so happily as he desired and
expected 271
LX. Of some things which he that reads shall know, if he reads
them with attention 275
LXI. What happened to Don Quixote with the fair Huntress 278
LXII. Which treats of many and great matters 281
LXIII. Don Quixote's answer to his reprover; with other grave
and merry accidents 285
LXIV. Containing ways and means for disenchanting the peerless
Dulcinea del Toboso, being one of the most famous adventures
in the whole book 291
LXV. Wherein is contained the information given to Don Quixote
how to disenchant Dulcinea; with other wonderful passages 296
LXVI. Wherein is recorded the wonderful and inconceivable
adventure of the afflicted Duenna, or the Countess of Trifaldi;
and likewise Sancho Panza's letter to his wife Teresa Panza 299
LXVII. In which is continued the famous adventure of the
afflicted Duenna 303
LXVIII. Of the account given by the afflicted Duenna of her
misfortunes 304
LXIX. Wherein the Countess Trifaldi continues her stupendous
and memorable history 308
LXX. Which treats of matters relating and appertaining to this
adventure, and to this memorable history 309
LXXI. Of the arrival of Clavileno; with the conclusion of this
prolix adventure 313
LXXII. The instructions which Don Quixote gave to Sancho Panza,
before he went to his government; with other well-digested
matter 319
LXXIII. Of the second instruction Don Quixote gave Sancho Panza 322
LXXIV. How Sancho Panza was carried to his government; and of
the strange adventure that befell Don Quixote in the castle 325
LXXV. How the great Sancho Panza took possession of his island,
and in what manner he began to govern 328
LXXVI. Of a dreadful alarm which Don Quixote experienced 331
LXXVII. Which gives a further account of Sancho Panza's behaviour
in his government 334
LXXVIII. What happened to Don Quixote with Donna Rodriguez; as
also other passages worthy to be recorded 340
LXXIX. What happened to Sancho Panza as he went the rounds in
his island 342
LXXX. Which narrates the success of the page that carried
Sancho's letter to his wife 350
LXXXI. A continuation of Sancho Panza's government; with other
entertaining passages 355
LXXXII. A relation of the adventures of the second disconsolate
or distressed matron, otherwise called Donna Rodriguez; with
the letters of Teresa Panza to the Duchess and to her husband 360
LXXXIII. The toilsome end and conclusion of Sancho Panza's
government 364
LXXXIV. What happened to Sancho by the way; with other matters
which you will have no more to do than to see 368
LXXXV. Which treats of matters that relate to this history,
and no other 370
LXXXVI. Of the extraordinary and unaccountable combat between Don
Quixote de la Mancha and the lackey Tosilos, in vindication
of the matron Donna Rodriguez's daughter 372
LXXXVII. How adventures crowded so thick on Don Quixote that
they trod upon one another's heels 376
LXXXVIII. Of an extraordinary accident that happened to Don
Quixote, which may well pass for an adventure 383
LXXXIX. What happened to Don Quixote going to Barcelona 388
XC. Of what befell Don Quixote at his entrance into Barcelona;
with other events more true than ingenious 397
XCI. Of the adventure of the enchanted head; with other trifling
matters that must not be omitted 399
XCII. Of an unlucky adventure which Don Quixote laid most to
heart of any that had yet befallen him 404
XCIII. Wherein is given an account of the Knight of the White
Moon; with other matters 406
XCIV. How Don Quixote resolved to turn shepherd, and lead a rural
life for the year's time he was obliged not to bear arms;
with other passages truly good and diverting 410
XCV. Of the ominous accidents that crossed Don Quixote as he
entered his village; with other transactions that illustrate and
adorn this memorable history 417
XCVI. How Don Quixote fell sick, made his last will, and died 420
Preface.
When we reflect upon the great celebrity of the "Life, Exploits, and
Adventures of that ingenious Gentleman, Don Quixote de la Mancha," and
how his name has become quite proverbial amongst us, it seems strange
that so little should be known concerning the great man to whose
imagination we are indebted for so amusing and instructive a tale. We
cannot better introduce our present edition than by a short sketch of
his life, adding a few remarks on the work itself and the present
adapted reprint of it.
The obscurity we have alluded to is one which Cervantes shares with
many others, some of them the most illustrious authors which the world
ever produced. Homer, Hesiod,--names with which the mouths of men have
been familiar for centuries,--how little is now known of them! And not
only so, but how little was known of them even by those who lived
comparatively close upon their own time! How scattered and
unsatisfactory are the few particulars which we have of the life of
our own poet William Shakspere!
Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra was born at Alcala de Henares, a town of
New Castile, famous for its University, founded by Cardinal Ximenes.
He was of gentle birth, both on his father's and mother's side.
Rodrigo de Cervantes, his father, was descended from an ancient family
of Galicia, of which several branches were settled in some of the
principal cities of Spain. His mother's name was Leonora de
Cort[=e]nas. We find by the parish register of Santa Maria la Mayor,
at Alcala de Henares, that Miguel was baptised in that church on
Sunday, the 9th of October, 1547; in which year we may conclude,
therefore, that he was born. The discovery of this baptismal register
set at rest a dispute which had for some time been going on between
_seven_ different cities, each of which claimed the honour of being
the native place of our author: these were, besides the one already
mentioned, Seville, Madrid, Esquivias, Toledo, Lucena, and Alcazar de
San Juan. In this respect we cannot avoid drawing a comparison between
the fame of Cervantes and the prince of poets, Homer.
From a child he discovered a great liking for books, which no doubt
determined his parents, whose fortune, notwithstanding their good
family, was any thing but affluent, to educate him for one of the
learned professions, by which alone at that time there was any chance
of getting wealth. Miguel, however, did not take to the strict studies
proposed to him: not that he was idle; his days were spent in reading
books of amusement, such as novels, romances, and poems. It was of the
materials afforded by such a pursuit that his fame was afterwards
built.
Cervantes continued at Madrid till he was in his twenty-first year,
during which time he remained with his learned tutor Juan Lopez de
Hoyos. He seems to have been a great favourite with him; for, in a
collection of "Luctus," published by Juan on the death of the Queen,
we find an elegy and a ballad contributed by the editor's "dear and
beloved disciple Miguel de Cervantes." Under the same editorial care
Cervantes himself tells us, in his _Viage de Parnasso_, that he
published a pastoral poem of some length, called 'Filena,' besides
several ballads, sonnets, canzonets, and other small poems.
Notwithstanding the comparative insignificance of these productions,
they probably excited some little attention; for it appears not
unlikely that it was to them that Cervantes owed his appointment to an
office, which we find him holding, in 1569, at Rome,--that of
chamberlain to his eminence the Cardinal Julio Aquaviva, an
ecclesiastic of considerable learning. Such an appointment, however,
did not suit the active disposition and romantic turn of one so deeply
read in the adventures of the old knights, the glory of which he
longed to share; from which hope, however, the inactivity and monotony
of a court-life could not but exclude him.
In 1571 there was concluded a famous league between Pope Pius V.,
Philip II. of Spain, and the Venetian Republic, against Selim, the
Grand Turk, who was attacking Cyprus, then belonging to Venice. John
of Austria, natural son of the celebrated Emperor Charles V., and
brother of the king of Spain, was made commander-in-chief of the
allied forces, both naval and military; and under him, as general of
the Papal forces, was appointed Mario Antonio Colonna, Duke of
Paliano. It became fashionable for the young men of the time to enlist
in this expedition; and Cervantes, then about twenty-four years of
age, soon enrolled himself under the standard of the Roman general.
After various success on both sides, in which the operations of the
Christians were not a little hindered by the dissensions of their
commanders, to which the taking of Nicosia by the Turks may be
imputed, the first year's cruise ended with the famous battle of
Lepanto; after which the allied forces retired, and wintered at
Messina.
Cervantes was present at this famous victory, where he was wounded in
the left hand by a blow from a scymitar, or, as some assert, by a
gunshot, so severely, that he was obliged to have it amputated at the
wrist whilst in the hospital at Messina; but the operation was so
unskilfully performed, that he lost the use of the entire arm ever
afterwards. He was not discouraged by this wound, nor induced to give
up his profession as a soldier. Indeed, he seems, from his own words,
to be very proud of the honour which his loss conferred upon him. "My
wound," he says, "was received on the most glorious occasion that any
age, past or present, ever saw, or that the future can ever hope to
see. To those who barely behold them, indeed, my wounds may not seem
honourable; it is by those who know how I came by them that they will
be rightly esteemed. Better is it for a soldier to die in battle than
to save his life by running away. For my part I had rather be again
present, were it possible, in that famous battle, than whole and sound
without sharing ill the glory of it. The scars which a soldier
exhibits in his breast and face are stars to guide others to the haven
of honour and the love of just praise."
The year following the victory of Lepanto, Cervantes still continued
with the same fleet, and took part in several attacks on the coast of
the Morea. At the end of 1572, when the allied forces were disbanded,
Colonna returned to Rome, whither our author probably accompanied him,
since he tells us that he followed his "conquering banners." He
afterwards enlisted in the Neapolitan army of the king of Spain, in
which he remained for three years, though without rising above the
rank of a private soldier; but it must be remembered that, at the time
of which we are now speaking, such was the condition of some of the
noblest men of their country; it was accounted no disgrace for even a
scion of the nobility to fight as a simple halberdier, or musqueteer,
in the service of his prince.
On the 26th of September, 1575, Cervantes embarked on board a galley,
called the 'Sun,' and was sailing from Naples to Spain, when his ship
was attacked by some Moorish corsairs, and both he and all the rest of
the crew were taken prisoners, and carried off to Algiers. When the
Christians were divided amongst their captors, he fell to the lot of
the captain, the famous Arnaute Mami, an Albanian renegade, whose
atrocious cruelties are too disgusting to be mentioned. He seems to
have treated his captive with peculiar harshness, perhaps hoping that
by so doing he might render him the more impatient of his servitude,
and so induce him to pay a higher ransom, which the rank and condition
of his friends in Europe appeared to promise. In this state Cervantes
continued five years. Some have thought that in "the captive's" tale,
related in Don Quixote, we may collect the particulars of his own
fortunes whilst in Africa; but even granting that some of the
incidents may be the same, it is now generally supposed that we shall
be deceived if we regard them as any detailed account of his
captivity. A man of Cervantes' enterprise and abilities was not likely
to endure tamely the hardships of slavery; and we accordingly find
that he was constantly forming schemes for escape. The last of these,
which was the most bold and best contrived of all, failed, because he
had admitted a traitor to a share in his project.
There was at Algiers a Venetian renegade, named Hassan Aga, a friend
of Arnaute Mami; he had risen high in the king's favour, and occupied
an important post in the government of Algiers. We have a description
of this man's ferocious character in Don Quixote, given us by the
Captain de Viedma. Cervantes was often sent by his master as messenger
to this man's house, situated on the sea-shore, at a short distance
from Algiers. One of Hassan's slaves, a native of Navarre, and a
Christian, had the management of the gardens of the villa; and with
him Cervantes soon formed an acquaintance, and succeeded in
persuading him to allow the making of a secret cave under the garden,
which would form a place of concealment for himself and fifteen of his
fellow captives, on whom he could rely. When the cavern was finished,
the adventurers made their escape by night from Algiers, and took up
their quarters in it. Of course an alarm was raised when they were
missing; but, although a most strict search after the fugitives was
made, both by their masters and by Ochali, then despot of Algiers,
here they lay hid for several months, being supplied with food by the
gardener and another Christian slave, named El Dorador.
One of their companions, named Viana, a gentleman of Minorca, had been
left behind them, so that he might bear a more active part in the
escape of the whole party. A sum of money was to be raised for his
ransom, and then he was to go to Europe and return with a ship in
which Cervantes and his friends, including the gardener and El
Dorador, were to embark on an appointed night, and so get back to
their country. Viana obtained his liberty in September 1577, and
having reached Minorca in safety, he easily procured a ship and came
off the coast of Barbary, according to the pre-concerted plan; but
before he could land, he was seen by the Moorish sentry, who raised an
alarm and obliged him to put out to sea again, lest he should by
coming too close attract attention to the cavern. This was a sore
disappointment to Cervantes and his companions, who witnessed it all
from their retreat. Still knowing Viana's courage and constancy, they
had yet hopes of his returning and again endeavouring to get them off.
And this he most probably would have done had it not been for the
treachery at which we hinted above. El Dorador just at this time
thought fit to turn renegade; and of course he could not begin his
infidel career better than by infamously betraying his former friends.
In consequence of his information Hassan Aga surrounded the entrance
to the cave with a sufficient force to make any attempt at resistance
utterly unavailing, and the sixteen poor prisoners were dragged out
and conveyed in chains to Algiers. The former attempts which he made
to escape caused Cervantes to be instantly fixed on as the contriver
and ringleader of this plot; and therefore, whilst the other fifteen
were sent back to their masters to be punished as they thought fit, he
was detained by the king himself, who hoped through him to obtain
further information, and so implicate the other Christians, and
perhaps also some of the renegades. Even had he possessed any such
information, which most likely he did not, Cervantes was certainly the
very last man to give it: notwithstanding various examinations and
threats, he still persisted in asserting that he was the sole
contriver of the plot, till at length, by his firmness, he fairly
exhausted the patience of Ochali. Had Hassan had his way, Cervantes
would have been strangled as an example to all Christians who should
hereafter try to run away from their captivity, and the king himself
was not unwilling to please him in this matter; but then he was not
their property, and Mami, to whom he belonged, would not consent to
lose a slave whom he considered to be worth at least two hundred
crowns. Thus did the avarice of a renegade save the future author of
Don Quixote from being strangled with the bowstring. Some of the
particulars of this affair are given us by Cervantes himself; but
others are collected from Father Haedo, the contemporary author of a
history of Barbary. "Most wonderful thing," says the worthy priest,
"that some of these gentlemen remained shut up in the cavern for five,
six, even for seven months, without even so much as seeing the light
of day; and all the time they were sustained only by Miguel de
Cervantes, and that too at the great and continual risk of his own
life; no less than four times did he incur the nearest danger of being
burnt alive, impaled, or strangled, on account of the bold things
which he dared in hopes of bestowing liberty upon many. Had his
fortune corresponded to his spirit, skill, and industry, Algiers might
at this day have been in the possession of the Christians, for his
designs aspired to no less lofty a consummation. In the end, the whole
affair was treacherously discovered; and the gardener, after being
tortured and picketed, perished miserably. But, in truth, of the
things which happened in that cave during the seven months that it was
inhabited by these Christians, and altogether of the captivity and
various enterprises of Miguel de Cervantes, a particular history might
easily be formed. Hassan Aga was wont to say that, '_could he but be
sure of that handless Spaniard_, he should consider captives, barks,
and the whole city of Algiers in perfect safety.'"
And Ochali seems to have been of the same opinion; for he did not
consider it safe to leave so dangerous a character as Cervantes in
private hands, and so we accordingly find that he himself bought him
of Mami, and then kept him closely confined in a dungeon in his own
palace, with the utmost cruelty. It is probable, however, that the
extreme hardship of Cervantes' case did really contribute to his
liberation. He found means of applying to Spain for his redemption;
and in consequence his mother and sister (the former of whom had now
become a widow, and the latter, Donna Andrea de Cervantes, was married
to a Florentine gentleman named Ambrosio) raised the sum of two
hundred and fifty crowns, to which a friend of the family, one
Francisco Caramambel, contributed fifty more. This sum was paid into
the hands of Father Juan Gil and Father Antonio de la Vella
Trinitarios, brethren of the 'Society for the Redemption of
Slaves,'[1] who immediately set to work to ransom Cervantes. His case
was, however, a hard one; for the king asked a thousand crowns for his
freedom; and the negotiation on this head caused a long delay, but was
at last brought to an issue by the abatement of the ransom to the sum
of five hundred crowns; the two hundred still wanting were made up by
the good fathers, the king threatening that if the bargain were not
concluded, Cervantes should be carried off to Constantinople; and he
was actually on board the galley for that purpose. So by borrowing
some part of the required amount, and by taking the remainder from
what was originally intrusted for the ransoming of other slaves, these
worthy men procured our author his liberty, and restored him to Spain
in the spring of 1581.
[1] Societies of this description, though not so common as in Spain,
existed also in other countries. In England, since the Reformation,
money bequeathed for this purpose was placed in the hands of some of
the large London companies or guilds. Since the destruction of
Algiers, by Lord Exmouth, and still later since the abolition of that
piratical kingdom by the French, such charitable bequests, having
become useless for their original purpose, have in some instances been
devoted to the promotion of education by a decree of Chancery. This is
the case with a large sum, usually known as 'Betton's gift,' in the
trusteeship of the Ironmongers' Company.
On his return to his native land the prospects of Cervantes were not
very flattering. He was now thirty-four years of age, and had spent
the best portion of his life without making any approach towards
eminence or even towards acquiring the means of subsistence; his
adventures, enterprises, and sufferings had, indeed, furnished him
with a stock from which in after years his powerful mind drew largely
in his writings; but since he did not at first devote himself to
literary pursuits, at least not to those of an author, they could not
afford him much consolation; and as to a military career, his wound
and long captivity seemed to exclude him from all hope in that
quarter. His family was poor, their scanty means having suffered from
the sum raised for his ransom; and his connexions and friends were
powerless to procure him any appointment at the court. He went to live
at Madrid, where his mother and sister then resided, and there once
more betook himself to the pursuit of his younger days. He shut
himself up, and eagerly employed his time in reading every kind of
books; Latin, Spanish, and Italian authors--all served to contribute
to his various erudition.
Three whole years were thus spent; till at length he turned his
reading to some account, by publishing, in 1584, a pastoral novel
entitled _Galataea_. Some authors, amongst whom is Pellicer, are
inclined to think that dramatic composition was the first in which he
appeared before the public; but such an opinion has, by competent
judges, been now abandoned. Galataea, which is interspersed with songs
and verses, is a work of considerable merit, quite sufficient, indeed,
though of course inferior to Don Quixote, to have gained for its
author a high standing amongst Spanish writers; though in it we
discern nothing of that peculiar style which has made Cervantes one of
the most remarkable writers that ever lived,--that insight into human
character, and that vein of humour with which he exposes and satirises
its failings. It being so full of short metrical effusions would
almost incline us to believe that it was written for the purpose of
embodying the varied contents of a sort of poetical commonplace-book;
some of which had, perhaps, been written when he was a youth under the
tuition of his learned preceptor Juan Lopez de Hoyos; others may have
been the pencillings of the weary hours of his long captivity in
Africa. As a specimen of his power in the Spanish language it is quite
worthy of him who in after years immortalised that tongue by the
romance of Don Quixote. It had been better for Cervantes had he gone
on in this sort of fictitious composition, instead of betaking himself
to the drama, in which he had very formidable rivals, and for which,
as was afterwards proved, his talents were less adapted.
On the 12th of December in the same year that his Galataea was
published, Cervantes married, at Esquivias, a young lady who was of
one of the first families of that place, and whose charms had
furnished the chief subject of his amatory poems; she was named Donna
Catalina de Salazar y Palacios y Vozmediano. Her fortune was but
small, and only served to keep Cervantes for some few months in
idleness; when his difficulties began to harass him again, and found
him as a married man less able to meet them. He then betook himself to
the drama, at which he laboured for several years, though with very
indifferent success. He wrote, in all, it is said thirty comedies; but
of these only eight remain, judging from the merits of which, we do
not seem to have sustained any great loss in the others not having
reached us.
It may appear strange at first that one who possessed such a wonderful
power of description and delineation of character as did Cervantes,
should not have been more successful in dramatic writing; but,
whatever may be the cause, certain it is that his case does not stand
alone. Men who have manifested the very highest abilities as
romance-writers, have, if not entirely failed, at least not been
remarkably successful, as composers of the drama; and of our own time,
who so great a delineator of character, or so happy in his incidents,
or so stirring in his plots, as the immortal Author of Waverley? Yet
the few specimens of dramatic composition which he has left us, only
serve to shew that, when _Waverley_, _Guy Mannering_, _Ivanhoe_, and
the rest of his romances are the delight of succeeding generations,
_Halidon Hill_ and the _House of Aspen_ will, with the _Numancia
Vengada_ of the author of Don Quixote, be buried in comparative
oblivion.
In 1588 Cervantes left Madrid, and settled at Seville, where, as he
himself tells us, "he found something better to do than writing
comedies." This "something better" was probably an appointment in some
mercantile business; for we know that one of the principal branches of
his family were very opulent merchants at Seville at that time, and
through them he might obtain some means of subsistence less precarious
than that which depended upon selling his comedies for a few "reals."
Besides, two of the Cervantes-Saavedra of Seville were themselves
amateur poets, and likely therefore to regard the more favourably
their poor relation, Miguel of Alcala de Henares, to whom they would
gladly intrust the management of some part of their mercantile
affairs. The change, however, of life did not prevent Cervantes from
still cultivating his old passion for literature; and we accordingly
find his name as one of the prize-bearers for a series of poems which
the Dominicans of Saragoza, in 1595, proposed to be written in praise
of St. Hyacinthus; one of the prizes was adjudged to "Miguel Cervantes
Saavedra of Seville."
In 1596 we find two short poetical pieces of Cervantes written upon
the occasion of the gentlemen of Seville having taken arms, and
prepared to deliver themselves and the city of Cadiz from the power of
the English, who, under the famous Earl of Essex, had made a descent
upon the Spanish coast, and destroyed the shipping intended for a
second armada for the invasion of England. In 1598 Philip II. died;
and Cervantes wrote a sonnet, which he then considered the best of his
literary productions, upon a majestic tomb, of enormous height, to
celebrate the funeral of that monarch. On the day that Philip was
buried, a serious quarrel happened between the civil and
ecclesiastical authorities of Seville; and Cervantes was mixed up in
it, and was in some trouble for having dared to manifest his
disapprobation by hissing at some part of their proceedings, but we
are not told what.
In 1599 Cervantes went to Toledo, which is remarkable as being the
place where he pretended to discover the original manuscript of Don
Quixote, by the Arabian Cid Hamet Benengeli. It was about this time,
too, that he resided in La Mancha, where he projected and executed
part, at least, of his immortal romance of Don Quixote, and where he
also laid the scene of that "ingenious gentleman's" adventures. It
seems likely that, whatever may have been Cervantes' employment at
Seville, it involved frequent travelling; and this may account for the
very accurate knowledge which he displays of the different districts
which he describes in his tale; for it is certain that the earlier
part of his life could have afforded him no means of acquiring such
information. Some have thought also that he was occasionally employed
on government business, and that it was whilst on some commission of
this sort that he was ill-treated by the people of La Mancha, and
thrown into prison by them at Argasamilla. Whatever may have been the
cause of his imprisonment, he himself tells us in the prologue to Don
Quixote, that the first part of that work was composed in a jail.
But for fifteen years of Cervantes' life, from 1588 to 1603, we know
but very little of his pursuits; the notices we have of him during
that time are very few and unsatisfactory; and this is the more to be
regretted because it certainly was then that his great work was
conceived, and in part executed. Soon after the accession of Philip
the Third, he removed from Seville to Valladolid, probably for the
sake of being near the court of that monarch, who, though remarkable
for his indolence, yet professed himself the patron of letters. It was
whilst living here that the first part of Don Quixote was published,
but not at Valladolid; it appeared at Madrid, either at the end of
1604, or, at the latest, in 1605.
The records of the magistracy of Valladolid afford us some curious
particulars of our author's mode of life about the time of the
publication of Don Quixote. He was brought before the court of
justice, on suspicion of having been concerned in a nightly brawl and
murder, though he really had no share in it. A Spanish gentleman,
named Don Gaspar Garibay, was stabbed about midnight near the house of
Cervantes. When the alarm was raised, he was amongst the first to run
out and proffer every assistance in his power to the wounded man. The
neighbourhood was not very respectable, and this gave rise to our
author's subsequent trouble in the matter; for it was suspected that
the ladies of his household were, from the place where they lived,
persons of bad reputation, and that he himself had, in some shameful
affray, dealt the murderous blow with his own hand. He and all his
family were, in consequence, directly arrested, and only got at
liberty after undergoing a very minute and rigid examination. The
records of the court tell us that Cervantes asserted that he was
residing at Valladolid for purposes of business; that, by reason of
his literary pursuits and reputation, he was frequently honoured by
visits from gentlemen of the royal household and learned men of the
university; and, moreover, that he was living in great poverty; for we
are told that he, his wife, and his two sisters, one of whom was a
nun, and his niece, were living in a scanty and mean lodging on the
fourth floor of a poor-looking house, and amongst them all had only
one maid-servant. He stated his age to be upwards of fifty, though we
know that, if born in 1547, he must in fact have nearly, or quite
completed his fifty-seventh year at this time. In such obscurity,
then, was the immortal author of Don Quixote living at the time of its
publication.
The First Part of this famous romance was dedicated to Don Alonzo
Lopez de Zuniga, Duke of Bexar or Bejar, who at this time affected the
character of a Mecaenas; whose conduct, however, towards Cervantes was
not marked by a generosity suited to his rank, nor according to his
profession, nor at all corresponding to the merits and wants of the
author. But the book needed no patron; it must make its own way, and
it did so. It was read immediately in court and city, by old and
young, learned and unlearned, and by all with equal delight; "it went
forth with the universal applause of all nations." Four editions (and
in the seventeenth century, when so few persons comparatively could
read, that was equivalent to more than double the number at the
present time)--four editions were published and sold in one year.
The profits from the sale of Don Quixote must have been very
considerable; and they, together with the remains of his paternal
estates, and the pensions from the count and the cardinal, enabled
Cervantes to live in ease and comfort. Ten years elapsed before he
sent any new work to the press; which time was passed in study, and in
attending to his pecuniary affairs. Though Madrid was now his fixed
abode, we often find him at Esquivias, where he probably went to enjoy
the quiet and repose of the village, and to look after the property
which he there possessed as his wife's dowry.
In 1613 he published his twelve _Novelas Exemplares_, or 'Exemplary
Novels,' with a dedication to his patron the Count de Lemos. He called
them "exemplary," because, as he tells us, his other novels had been
censured as more satirical than exemplary; which fault he determined
to amend in these; and therefore each of them contains interwoven in
it some error to be avoided, or some virtue to be practised. He
asserts that they were entirely his own invention, not borrowed or
copied from any other works of the same sort, nor translated from any
other language, as was the case with most of the novels which his
countrymen had published hitherto. But, notwithstanding this, we
cannot fail to remark a strong resemblance in them to the tales of
Boccaccio; still they are most excellent in their way, and have always
been favourites with the Spanish youth for their interest and pure
morality, and their ease and manliness of style. The titles of these
novels are, _The Little Gipsey_, _The Generous Lover_, _Rinconete and
Cortadillo_, _The Spanish-English Lady_, _The Glass Doctor_, _The
Force of Blood_, _The Jealous Estremaduran_, _The Illustrious
Servant-Maid_, _The Two Damsels_, _The Lady Cornelia Bentivoglio_,
_The Deceitful Marriage_, and _The Dialogue of the Dogs_. They have
all been translated into English, and are probably not unknown to some
of our readers.
The next year Cervantes published another small work, entitled the
_Viage de Parnasso_, or 'A Journey to Parnassus,' which is a playful
satire upon the Spanish poets, after the manner of Caesar Caporali's
upon the Italian poets under a similar title. It is a good picture of
the Spanish literature of his day, and one of the most powerful of his
poetical works. It is full of satire, though not ill-natured, and
there was no man of genius of the time who would complain of being too
harshly treated in it. Cervantes introduces himself as the oldest and
poorest of all the poetical fraternity, "the naked Adam of Spanish
poets." The plot of the poem is as follows:--Apollo wishes to rid
Parnassus of the bad poets, and to that end he calls together all the
others by a message through Mercury. When all assembled, he leads them
into a rich garden of Parnassus, and assigns to each the place which
corresponds to his merits. Poor Cervantes alone does not obtain this
distinction, and remains without being noticed in the presence of the
rest, before whom all the works he has ever published are displayed.
In vain does he urge his love for literature, and the troubles which
he had endured for its sake; no seat can he get. At last Apollo, in
compassion upon him, advises him to fold up his cloak, and to make
that his seat; but, alas, so poor is he that he does not possess such
a thing, and so he is obliged to remain standing in spite of his age,
his talents, and the opinion of many who know and confess the honour
and position which is his due. The vessel in which this 'Journey to
Parnassus' is performed is described in a way quite worthy of
Cervantes: "From topmast to keel it was all of verse; not one foot of
prose was there in it. The airy railings which fenced the deck were
all of double-rhymes. Ballads, an impudent but necessary race,
occupied the rowing-benches; and rightly, for there is nothing to
which they may not be turned. The poop was grand and gay, but somewhat
strange in its style, being stuck all over with sonnets of the richest
workmanship. The stroke-oars on either side were pulled by two
vigorous triplets, which regulated the motion of the vessel in a way
both easy and powerful. The gangway was one long and most melancholy
elegy, from which tears were continually dropping."
The publication of a shameful imitation, pretending to be a Second
Part of the Adventures of Don Quixote accelerated the production of
Cervantes' own Second Part; which accordingly made its appearance at
the beginning of 1615. Contrary to common experience, this Second Part
was received, and deservedly, with as great applause as was the First
Part ten years before.
Cervantes had now but a few more months to live; and it must, in his
declining years, have been a great consolation to find that the
efforts of his genius were still appreciated by his countrymen; not to
mention the relief from pecuniary embarrassments which the profits of
the sale must have afforded him. Cervantes was now at the height to
which his ambition had all along aimed; he had no rival; for Lope de
Vega was dead, and the literary kingdom of Spain was all his own. He
was courted by the great; no strangers came to Madrid without making
the writer of Don Quixote the first object of their inquiry; he
reposed in honour, free from all calumny, in the bosom of his family.
This same year he published eight comedies, and the same number of
interludes; two only in verse, the rest in prose. It does not seem
likely that these were written at this time; they must have been the
works of his earlier years; but, like his novels, corrected and given
to the public when his judgment was more mature. Several of them had,
no doubt, been performed on the stage many years before, and remained
with Cervantes in manuscript. The dissertation which he prefixed to
them is full of interest, and is very curious and valuable, since it
contains the only account we have of the early history of the Spanish
drama.
In 1616, he completed and prepared for the press a romance entitled
_Persiles and Sigismunda_, of a grave character, written in imitation
of the _Ethiopics_ of Heliodorus; it was the work of many years, and
is accounted by the Spaniards one of the purest specimens of Castilian
writing. He finished it just before his death, but never lived to see
it published. The dedication and prologue of Persiles and Sigismunda
are very affecting; they are the voice of a dying man speaking to us
of his approaching dissolution.
From the nature of his complaint, Cervantes retained his mental
faculties to the very last, and so was able to be the historian of his
latter days. At the end of the preface to _Persiles_, he tells us that
he had gone for a few days to Esquivias, in hopes that country air
might be beneficial to him. On his return to Madrid, he was
accompanied by his friends, when a young student on horseback overtook
them, riding very hard to do so, and complaining in consequence of the
rapid pace at which they were going. One of the three made answer that
it was no fault of theirs, but that the horse of Miguel de Cervantes
was to be blamed, whose trot was none of the slowest. Scarcely had the
name been pronounced, when the young man dismounted; and touching the
border of Cervantes' left sleeve, exclaimed, "Yes, yes, it is indeed
the maimed perfection, the all-famous, the delightful writer, the joy
and darling of the Muses." This salutation was returned with
Cervantes' natural modesty; and the worthy student performed the rest
of the journey with him and his friends. "We drew up a little," says
Cervantes, "and rode on at a measured pace; and whilst we rode, we
happened to talk of my illness. The good student soon knocked away
all my hopes, and let me know my doom, by telling me that it was a
dropsy that I had got: the thirst attending which, not all the waters
of the ocean, though it were not salt, could suffice to quench.
'Therefore, Senor Cervantes,' said he, 'you must drink nothing at all,
but forget not to eat, and to eat plentifully; that alone will recover
you without any physic.' 'Others have told me the same,' answered I;
'but I can no more forbear drinking, than if I had been born to
nothing else. My life is fast drawing to a close; and from the state
of my pulse, I think I can scarcely outlive Sunday next at the utmost;
so that I hardly think I shall profit by the acquaintance so
fortunately made. But adieu, my merry friends all; for I am going to
die; and I hope to see you again ere long in the next world as happy
as hearts can desire.' With that, we found ourselves at the bridge of
Toledo, by which we entered the city; and the student took leave of
us, having to go round by the bridge of Segovia."
This is all that we know of the last sickness of Cervantes: it was
dropsy, and this dropsy, according to his own prediction to the
student, increased so rapidly, that a few days after, on the 18th of
April, 1616, he was considered to be past recovery, and it was thought
advisable for him to receive the last sacrament of extreme unction,
which he accordingly did with all the devotion of a pious Catholic.
He died on the 23d day of April, 1616, in the sixty-ninth year of his
age; and was buried in the habit of the Franciscans, whose order he
had entered some time previous to his decease. It is a coincidence
worth remembering, that _Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_ terminated his
mortal course in Spain on the very same day that _William Shakspere_
died in England.
As regards style of composition, Cervantes is without a rival in the
Spanish language. For the purity of his writing, he is even to this
day acknowledged, not only to be first, but to have no one who can
come near enough to be called second to him. But this is not his
greatest praise. He must ever be remembered as the originator of a
kind of writing, which the greatest of men since his time have thought
it an honour, of whatever country they may have been, to imitate. All
modern romance-writers, and novel-writers (and what a mighty host are
they!) must be content to be accounted the followers of Miguel de
Cervantes.
With regard to _Don Quixote_, it need hardly be said that its object is
satire upon the books of knight-errantry, which were so much used in the
time of Cervantes, and especially by the Spanish. He conceived that these
books were likely to give his countrymen false ideas of the world; to
fill them all, but especially the young, with fanciful notions of life,
and so make them unfit to meet its real difficulties and hardships. In
order to exhibit the absurdity of such works (it must be remembered too,
that the more famous books of knighthood had given rise to a host of
spurious imitations, with all their faults and none of their beauties),
the author of Don Quixote represents a worthy gentleman with his head
turned by such reading, and then sallying forth and endeavouring to act
in this plain matter-of-fact world (where there are windmills, and not
giants--inns, and not castles--good honest hosts and hostesses, and not
lords and ladies--chambermaids, and not peerless beauties--estates to be
got by hard labour, and not islands to be given away to one's dependants
as if by enchantment), endeavouring to act, we say, as if all that was
said in _Amadis de Gaul_, and _Palmerin of England_, and _Olivante de
Laura_, were really true. The absurdities into which the poor gentleman's
madness constantly hurries him, the stern and bitter satire which is
conveyed in these against the books which caused them all, did more
towards putting down the extravagances of knight-errantry than many
volumes of the bitterest invective. We of this present day cannot be
really alive to all the great genius displayed in Don Quixote. The books
which it satirises are now almost unknown; many who have heard of Amadis
de Gaul have never read it, and still less have they read all the lineage
of the Amadis. Besides, in some of the first of the chivalrous romances,
such as Palmerin of England, the _Morte d'Arthur_, and others, there was
undoubtedly very much talent and beauty of sentiment: and it was as such
that Southey thought it right to translate them and present them to the
English public some years ago; and deeply indebted are we all to him for
his labours, which revived among us somewhat of the taste for the old and
stately prose of the ancient romances--a taste which in our day has given
rise to those beautiful editions in English of the tales of De la Motte
Fouque. But we must ever remember that it was not for the purpose of
ridiculing those and similar books that Cervantes wrote his
"history"--one so keenly alive to the beauty of the poetry of the
mediaeval writing as he was, never could have intended such a thing: it
was to exterminate the race of miserable imitators, who, at his time,
deluged Europe with sickening caricatures of the old romance. It has even
been thought that he had intended another course in order to cure the
disease, namely, that of himself composing a model romance in the style
of Amadis, which, from its excellence, would make manifest the follies of
men who had endeavoured to imitate that almost inimitable work. But the
disease was past cure; the limb was obliged to be amputated; books of
knight-errantry could not be reformed, he thought; and so rather than let
them continue their mischief in their present shape, they must be quite
destroyed; and this the satire of Don Quixote was by its author
considered the most proper means of effecting.
This was indeed a daring remedy; and, as may be supposed, by some it
has been thought that Cervantes, in lopping off an excrescence, did
also destroy a healthy limb,--that, in destroying knight-errantry, he
destroyed also the holy spirit of self-devotion and heroism. The Count
Segur, we are told by an ingenious writer of the present time,[2] who
joins the Count in his opinion, laments that the fine spirit of
chivalry should have lost its empire, and that the romance of Don
Quixote, by its success and its philosophy, concealed under an
attractive fiction, should have completed the ruin by fixing ridicule
even upon its memory--a sentence indeed full of error; for real
philosophy needs not to be concealed to be attractive. And Sir William
Temple quotes the saying of a worthy Spaniard, who told him "that the
History of Don Quixote had ruined the Spanish monarchy; for since that
time men had grown ashamed of honour and love, and only thought of
pursuing their fortune and satisfying their lust."
[2] Kenelm Digby, Esq., in his beautiful book entitled _Godefridus_,
one of the volumes of the _Broad Stone of Honour_.
But surely such censure is misdirected--surely the downfall of Spain
may be traced to other causes. It is not the spirit of heroism, or of
Christian self-devotion, which Cervantes would put down. His manly
writing can never be accused of that: misfortune had taught him too
well in his own earlier days how to appreciate such a virtue. In
nothing is his consummate skill perceived more than in the way in
which he prevents us from confounding the follies of the
knights-errant, and of the debased books of romance, with the generous
heart and actions of the true Christian gentleman. In spite of all his
hallucination, who can help respecting Don Quixote himself? We laugh,
indeed, at the ludicrous situations into which his madness is for ever
getting him; but we must reverence the good Christian cavalier who,
amidst all, never thinks less of any thing than of himself and of his
own interest. What is his character? It is that of one possessing
virtue, imagination, genius, kind feeling,--all that can distinguish
an elevated soul, and an affectionate heart. He is brave, faithful,
loyal, always keeping his word; he contends only for virtue and glory.
Does he wish for kingdoms? it is only that he may give them to his
good squire Sancho Panza. He is a constant lover, a humane warrior, an
affectionate master, an accomplished gentleman. It is not, then, by
describing such a man that Cervantes desired to ridicule real heroism;
surely not: he would only shew that, even with all these good
qualities, if they were misdirected or spoiled by vain imaginations,
the most noble could only become ridiculous. He would teach us, that
this is a world of _action_, and not of _fancy_; that it will not do
for us to go out of ourselves and out of the world, and lead an ideal
life: our duties are around us and within us; and we need not leave
our own homes in order to seek adventures wherein those duties may be
acceptably performed. He perceived that by knight-errantry and
romances some of the holiest aspirations of the human heart were,
according to the adage, which affirms that "there is but one step from
the sublime to the ridiculous," by over-description and fulsome
language, in danger of being exposed to ridicule, and so of being
crushed; and he resolved, by excess of satire, to put a stop at once
to such a danger,--to crush those books which were daily destroying
that which he held most dear--the true spirit of chivalry, the true
devotion of the Christian gentleman. "When the light of chivalry was
expiring, Cervantes put his extinguisher upon it, and drove away the
moths that alone still fluttered around it. He loved chivalry too well
to be patient when he saw it parodied and burlesqued; and he perceived
that the best way of preserving it from shame was, to throw over it
the sanctity of death."[3]
[3] Vide _Guesses at Truth_.
With respect to the present edition, little need be said beyond what
the title-page itself implies. With what degree of judgment the
"cumbrous matter" has been removed, must be left to the public to
determine. The Editor may, however, say, that the task which he at
first undertook with some trepidation, gradually assumed an easier and
more pleasant aspect; and he may add, that the result has been such as
to satisfy himself of the success of the experiment. He trusts that he
has placed in the hands of the mass of our reading population, and
especially of the youth of England, an edition of Cervantes' immortal
work, in a convenient, but yet not too condensed form--retaining all
the point, humour, and pathos of the original, without any of the
prolixity, or the improprieties of expression, which have heretofore
disfigured it. The judgment passed upon one of the books in our hero's
library by his inquisitorial friends may well be applied to his own
work: "Had there been less of it, it would have been more esteemed.
'Tis fit the book should be pruned and cleared of some inferior things
that encumber and deform it: keep it, however," &c.--(_Page 23._)
It only remains to add, that the excellent translation of Motteux has
been principally adhered to in the present edition.
_London, December 1st, 1846._
NOTES.
_The holy brotherhood._--Most readers would suppose at first sight
that the Inquisition is meant by this term, which occurs so often in
the work; it is not so, however. The "holy brotherhood" alluded to was
simply an association for the prevention of robberies and murders in
the less frequented parts of Spain.
_Mambrino's helmet._--Orlando Furioso must be referred to for the
history of this enchanted and invulnerable headpiece, which is several
times alluded to in Don Quixote.
The Life and Achievements
OF
DON QUIXOTE DE LA MANCHA.
CHAPTER I.
_The quality and way of living of Don Quixote._
In a certain village in La Mancha, in the kingdom of Arragon, of which
I cannot remember the name, there lived not long ago one of those
old-fashioned gentlemen, who are never without a lance upon a rack, an
old target, a lean horse, and a greyhound. His diet consisted more of
beef than mutton; and, with minced meat on most nights, lentiles on
Fridays, and a pigeon extraordinary on Sundays, he consumed three
quarters of his revenue; the rest was laid out in a plush coat, velvet
breeches, with slippers of the same, for holydays; and a suit of the
very best homespun cloth, which he bestowed on himself for
working-days. His whole family was a housekeeper something turned of
forty, a niece not twenty, and a man that served him in the house and
in the field, and could saddle a horse, and handle the pruning-hook.
The master himself was nigh fifty years of age, of a hale and strong
complexion, lean-bodied and thin-faced, an early riser, and a lover of
hunting. Some say his sirname was Quixada, or Quesada (for authors
differ in this particular); however, we may reasonably conjecture, he
was called Quixada (_i.e._ lantern-jaws), though this concerns us but
little, provided we keep strictly to the truth in every point of this
history.
Be it known, then, that when our gentleman had nothing to do (which
was almost all the year round), he passed his time in reading books of
knight-errantry, which he did with that application and delight, that
at last he in a manner wholly left off his country sports, and even
the care of his estate; nay, he grew so strangely enamoured of these
amusements, that he sold many acres of land to purchase books of that
kind, by which means he collected as many of them as he could; but
none pleased him like the works of the famous Feliciano de Sylva; for
the brilliancy of his prose, and those intricate expressions with
which it is interlaced seemed to him so many pearls of eloquence,
especially when he came to read the love-addresses and challenges;
many of them in this extraordinary style. "The reason of your
unreasonable usage of my reason, does so enfeeble my reason, that I
have reason to expostulate with your beauty." And this, "The sublime
heavens, which with your divinity divinely fortify you with the stars,
and fix you the deserver of the desert that is deserved by your
grandeur." These, and such-like rhapsodies, strangely puzzled the poor
gentleman's understanding, while he was racking his brain to unravel
their meaning, which Aristotle himself could never have found, though
he should have been raised from the dead for that very purpose.
He did not so well like those dreadful wounds which Don Belianis gave
and received; for he considered that all the art of surgery could
never secure his face and body from being strangely disfigured with
scars. However, he highly commended the author for concluding his book
with a promise to finish that unfinishable adventure; and many times
he had a desire to put pen to paper, and faithfully and literally
finish it himself; which he had certainly done, and doubtless with
good success, had not his thoughts been wholly engrossed in much more
important designs.
He would often dispute with the curate of the parish, a man of
learning, that had taken his degrees at Giguenza, as to which was the
better knight, Palmerin of England, or Amadis de Gaul; but Master
Nicholas, the barber of the same town, would say, that none of them
could compare with the Knight of the Sun; and that if any one came
near him, it was certainly Don Galaor, the brother of Amadis de Gaul;
for he was a man of a most commodious temper, neither was he so
finical, nor such a whining lover, as his brother; and as for courage,
he was not a jot behind him.
In fine, he gave himself up so wholly to the reading of romances, that
at night he would pore on until it was day, and would read on all day
until it was night; and thus a world of extraordinary notions, picked
out of his books, crowded into his imagination; now his head was full
of nothing but enchantments, quarrels, battles, challenges, wounds,
complaints, love-passages, torments, and abundance of absurd
impossibilities; insomuch that all the fables and fantastical tales
which he read seemed to him now as true as the most authentic
histories. He would say, that the Cid Ruydiaz was a very brave knight,
but not worthy to stand in competition with the Knight of the Burning
Sword, who, with a single back-stroke had cut in sunder two fierce
and mighty giants. He liked yet better Bernardo del Carpio, who, at
Roncesvalles, deprived of life the enchanted Orlando, having lifted
him from the ground, and choked him in the air, as Hercules did
Antaeus, the son of the Earth.
As for the giant Morgante, he always spoke very civil things of him;
for among that monstrous brood, who were ever intolerably proud and
insolent, he alone behaved himself like a civil and well-bred person.
But of all men in the world he admired Rinaldo of Montalban, and
particularly his carrying away the idol of Mahomet, which was all
massy gold, as the history says; while he so hated that traitor
Galalon, that for the pleasure of kicking him handsomely, he would
have given up his housekeeper, nay and his niece into the bargain.
Having thus confused his understanding, he unluckily stumbled upon the
oddest fancy that ever entered into a madman's brain; for now he
thought it convenient and necessary, as well for the increase of his
own honour, as the service of the public, to turn knight-errant, and
roam through the whole world, armed cap-a-pie, and mounted on his
steed, in quest of adventures; that thus imitating those
knight-errants of whom he had read, and following their course of
life, redressing all manner of grievances, and exposing himself to
danger on all occasions, at last, after a happy conclusion of his
enterprises, he might purchase everlasting honour and renown.
The first thing he did was to scour a suit of armour that had belonged
to his great grandfather, and had lain time out of mind carelessly
rusting in a corner; but when he had cleaned and repaired it as well
as he could, he perceived there was a material piece wanting; for,
instead of a complete helmet, there was only a single head-piece.
However, his industry supplied that defect; for with some pasteboard
he made a kind of half-beaver, or vizor, which, being fitted to the
head-piece, made it look like an entire helmet. Then, to know whether
it were cutlass-proof, he drew his sword, and tried its edge upon the
pasteboard vizor; but with the very first stroke he unluckily undid in
a moment what he had been a whole week in doing. He did not like its
being broke with so much ease, and therefore, to secure it from the
like accident, he made it a-new, and fenced it with thin plates of
iron, which he fixed on the inside of it so artificially, that at last
he had reason to be satisfied with the solidity of the work; and so,
without any farther experiment, he resolved it should pass to all
intents and purposes for a full and sufficient helmet.
The next moment he went to view his horse, whose bones stuck out like
the corners of a Spanish real, being a worse jade than Gonela's, _qui
tantum pellis etossa fuit_; however, his master thought that neither
Alexander's Bucephalus nor the Cid's Babieca could be compared with
him. He was four days considering what name to give him; for, as he
argued with himself, there was no reason that a horse bestrid by so
famous a knight, and withal so excellent in himself, should not be
distinguished by a particular name; so, after many names which he
devised, rejected, changed, liked, disliked, and pitched upon again,
he concluded to call him Rozinante.
Having thus given his horse a name, he thought of choosing one for
himself; and having seriously pondered on the matter eight whole days
more, at last he determined to call himself Don Quixote. Whence the
author of this history draws this inference, that his right name was
Quixada, and not Quesada, as others obstinately pretend. And
observing, that the valiant Amadis, not satisfied with the bare
appellation of Amadis, added to it the name of his country, that it
might grow more famous by his exploits, and so styled himself Amadis
de Gaul; so he, like a true lover of his native soil, resolved to call
himself Don Quixote de la Mancha; which addition, to his thinking,
denoted very plainly his parentage and country, and consequently would
fix a lasting honour on that part of the world.
And now, his armour being scoured, his head-piece improved to a
helmet, his horse and himself new-named, he perceived he wanted
nothing but a lady, on whom he might bestow the empire of his heart;
for he was sensible that a knight-errant without a mistress was a tree
without either fruit or leaves, and a body without a soul. "Should I,"
said he to himself, "by good or ill fortune, chance to encounter some
giant, as it is common in knight-errantry, and happen to lay him
prostrate on the ground, transfixed with my lance, or cleft in two,
or, in short, overcome him, and have him at my mercy, would it not be
proper to have some lady to whom I may send him as a trophy of my
valour? Then when he comes into her presence, throwing himself at her
feet, he may thus make his humble submission: 'Lady, I am the giant
Caraculiambro, lord of the island of Malindrania, vanquished in single
combat by that never-deservedly-enough-extolled knight-errant Don
Quixote de la Mancha, who has commanded me to cast myself most humbly
at your feet, that it may please your honour to dispose of me
according to your will.'" Near the place where he lived dwelt a
good-looking country girl, for whom he had formerly had a sort of an
inclination, though, it is believed, she never heard of it, nor
regarded it in the least. Her name was Aldonza Lorenzo, and this was
she whom he thought he might entitle to the sovereignty of his heart;
upon which he studied to find her out a new name, that might have some
affinity with her old one, and yet at the same time sound somewhat
like that of a princess, or lady of quality; so at last he resolved to
call her Dulcinea, with the addition of del Toboso, from the place
where she was born; a name, in his opinion, sweet, harmonious, and
dignified, like the others which he had devised.