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IntroductionIntroductory Note
Introductory Note
Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra was born at Alcala de Henares in Spain in
1547, of a noble Castilian family. Nothing is certainly known of his
education, but by the age of twenty-three we find him serving in the army as
a private soldier. He was maimed for life at the battle of Lepanto, shared in
a number of other engagements, and was taken captive by the Moors on his way
home in 1575. After five years of slavery he was ransomed; and two or three
years later he returned to Spain, and betook himself to the profession of
letters. From youth he had practised the writing of verse, and now he turned
to the production of plays; but, failing of financial success, he obtained an
employment in the Government offices, which he held till 1597, when he was
imprisoned for a shortage in his accounts due to the dishonesty of an
associate. The imprisonment on this occasion lasted only till the end of the
year, and, after a period of obscurity, he issued, in 1605, his masterpiece,
"Don Quixote." Its success was great and immediate, and its reputation soon
spread beyond Spain. Translations of parts into French appeared; and in 1611
Thomas Shelton, an Englishman otherwise unknown, put forth the present
version, in style and vitality, if not in accuracy, acknowledged the most
fortunate of English renderings.
[See Don Quixote And Sancho: Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. From the painting
by Gustave Dore`.]
The present volume contains the whole of the first part of the novel,
which is complete in itself. The second part, issued in 1615, the year before
his death, is of the nature of a sequel, and is generally regarded as
inferior.
In writing his great novel, Cervantes set out to parody the romances of
chivalry, the chief of which will be found in the description of Don Quixote`s
library in the sixth chapter of the first book. But, as in the somewhat
parallel case of Fielding and "Joseph Andrews," the hero got the better of his
creator`s purpose, and the work passed far beyond the limits of a mere
burlesque. Yet the original purpose was accomplished. The literature of Knight
Errantry, which Church and State had sought without success to check, was
crushed by Cervantes with this single blow.
But the importance of this greatest of novels is not merely, or mainly,
that it put an end to an extravagant and outworn form of fiction. Loose in
structure and uneven in workmanship, it remains unsurpassed as a masterpiece
of droll humor, as a picture of Spanish life, as a gallery of immortal
portraits. It has in the highest degree the mark of all great art, the
successful combination of the particular and the universal: it is true to the
life of the country and age of its production, and true also to general human
nature everywhere and always. With reference to the fiction of the Middle
Ages, it is a triumphant satire; with reference to modern novels, it is the
first and the most widely enjoyed. In its author`s words: "It is so
conspicuous and void of difficulty that children may handle him, youths may
read him, men may understand him, and old men may celebrate him."
[See Don Quixote: The last hours of the author of "Don Quixote".]
The Author`s Preface To The Reader
Thou mayst believe me, gentle reader, without swearing, that I could
willingly desire this book (as a child of my understanding) to be the most
beautiful, gallant, and discreet that might possibly be imagined; but I could
not transgress the order of nature, wherein everything begets his like, which
being so, what could my sterile and ill - tilled wit engender but the history
of a dry - toasted and humorous son, full of various thoughts and conceits
never before imagined of any other; much like one who was engendered within
some noisome prison, where all discommodities have taken possession, and all
doleful noises made their habitation, seeing that rest, pleasant places,
amenity of the fields, the cheerfulness of clear sky, the murmuring noise of
the crystal fountains, and the quiet repose of the spirit are great helps for
the most barren Muses to show themselves fruitful, and to bring into the world
such births as may enrich it with admiration and delight? If ofttimes befalls
that a father hath a child both by birth evil - favoured and quite devoid of
all perfection, and yet the love that he bears him is such as it casts a mask
over his eyes, which hinders his discerning of the faults and simplicities
thereof, and makes him rather deem them discretions and beauty, and so tells
them to his friends for witty jests and conceits. But I, though in show a
father, yet in truth but a step-father to Don Quixote, will not be borne
away by the violent current of the modern custom nowadays, and therefore
entreat thee, with the tears almost in mine eyes, as many others are wont to
do, most dear reader, to pardon and dissemble the faults which thou shalt
discern in this my son; for thou art neither his kinsman nor friend, and thou
hast thy soul in thy body, and thy free-will therein as absolute as the
best, and thou art in thine own house, wherein thou art as absolute a lord as
the king is of his subsidies, and thou knowest well the common proverb, that
`under my cloak a fig for the king,` all which doth exempt thee and makes thee
free from all respect and obligation; and so thou mayst boldly say of this
history whatsoever thou shalt think good, without fear either to be controlled
for the evil or rewarded for the good that thou shalt speak thereof.
I would very fain have presented it unto thee pure and naked, without the
ornament of a preface, or the rabblement and catalogue of the wonted sonnets,
epigrams, poems, elegies, etc., which are wont to be put at the beginning of
books. For I dare say unto thee that, although it cost me some pains to
compose it, yet in no respect did it equalise that which I took to make this
preface which thou dost now read. I took, oftentimes, my pen in my hand to
write it, and as often set it down again, as not knowing what I should write;
and being once in a muse, with my paper before me, my pen in mine ear, mine
elbow on the table, and mine hand on my cheek, imagining what I might write,
there entered a friend of mine unexpectedly, who was a very discreet and
pleasantly-witted man, who, seeing me so pensative, demanded of me the
reason of my musing; and, not concealing it from him, said that I bethought
myself on my preface I was to make to Don Quixote`s history, which did so much
trouble me as I neither meant to make any at all, nor publish the history of
the acts of so noble a knight. `For how can I choose,` quoth I, `but be much
confounded at that which the old legislator (the vulgar) will say, when it
sees that, after the end of so many years as are spent since I first slept in
the bosom of oblivion, I come out loaden with my grey hairs, and bring with me
a book as dry as a kex, void of invention, barren of good phrase, poor of
conceits, and altogether empty both of learning and eloquence; without
quotations on the margents, or annotations in the end of the book, wherewith I
see other books are still adorned, be they never so idle, fabulous, and
profane; so full of sentences of Aristotle and Plato, and the other crew of
the philosophers, as admires the readers, and makes them believe that these
authors are very learned and eloquent? And after, when they cite Plutarch or
Cicero, what can they say, but that they are the sayings of St. Thomas, or
other doctors of the Church; observing herein so ingenious a method as in one
line they will paint you an enamoured gull, and in the other will lay you down
a little seeming devout sermon, so that it is a great pleasure and delight to
read or hear it? All which things must be wanting in my book, for neither have
I anything to cite on the margent, or note in the end, and much less do I know
what authors I follow, to put them at the beginning, as the custom is, by the
letter of the A B C, beginning with Aristotle, and ending in Xenophon, or in
Zoilus or Zeuxis, although the one was a railer and the other a painter. So
likewise shall my book want sonnets at the beginning, at least such sonnets
whose authors be dukes, marquises, earls, bishops, ladies, or famous poets;
although, if I would demand them of two or three artificers of mine
acquaintance, I know they would make me some such as those of the most
renowned in Spain would in no wise be able to equal or compare with them.
`Finally, good sir, and my very dear friend,` quoth I, `I do resolve that
Sir Don Quixote remain entombed among the old records of the Mancha, until
Heaven ordain some one to adorn him with the many graces that are yet wanting;
for I find myself wholly unable to remedy them, through mine insufficiency and
little learning, and also because I am naturally lazy and unwilling to go
searching for authors to say that which I can say well enough without them.
And hence proceeded the perplexity and ecstasy wherein you found me plunged.`
My friend hearing that, and striking himself on the forehead, after a
long and loud laughter, said: `In good faith, friend, I have now at last
delivered myself of a long and intricate error, wherewith I was possessed all
the time of our acquaintance; for hitherto I accounted thee ever to be
discreet and prudent in all thy actions, but now I see plainly that thou art
as far from that I took thee to be as heaven is from the earth. How is it
possible that things of so small moment, and so easy to be redressed, can have
force to suspend and swallow up so ripe a wit as yours hath seemed to be, and
so fitted to break up and trample over the greatest difficulties that can be
propounded? This proceeds not, in good sooth, from defect of will, but from
superfluity of sloth and penury of discourse. Wilt thou see whether that I say
be true or no? Listen, then, attentively awhile, and thou shalt perceive how,
in the twinkling of an eye, I will confound all the difficulties and supply
all the wants which do suspend and affright thee from publishing to the world
the history of thy famous Don Quixote, the light and mirror of all knighthood
- errant.`
`Say, I pray thee,` quoth I, hearing what he had said, `after what manner
dost thou think to replenish the vacuity of my fear, and reduce the chaos of
my confusion to any clearness and light?
And he replied: `The first thing whereat thou stoppedst - of sonnets,
epigrams, eclogues, etc., (which are wanting for the beginning, and ought to
be written by grave and noble persons) - may be remedied, if thou thyself wilt
but take a little pains to compass them, and thou mayst after name them as
thou pleasest, and father them on Prester John of the Indians or the Emperor
of Trapisonde, whom, I know, were held to be famous poets; and suppose they
were not, but that some pedants and presumptuous fellows would backbite thee,
and murmur against this truth, thou needest not weigh them two straws; for,
although they could prove it to be an untruth, yet cannot they cut off thy
hand for it.
`As touching citations in the margent, and authors out of whom thou mayst
collect sentences and sayings to insert in thy history, there is nothing else
to be done but to bob into it some Latin sentences that thou knowest already
by rote, or mayst get easily with a little labour; as, for example, when thou
treatest of liberty and thraldom, thou mayst cite that, "Non bene pro toto
libertas venditur auro"; and presently quote Horace, or he whosoever else that
said it, on the margent. If thou shouldest speak of the power of death, have
presently recourse to that of "Pallida mors aequo pulsat pede pauperum
tabernas, regumque turres." If of the instability of friends, thou hast at
hand Cato freely offering his distichon, "Donec eris foelix multos numerabis
amicos; Tempora si fuerint nubila, solus eris." If of riches, "Quantum quisque
sua nummorum servat in arca, tantum habet et fidei." If of love, "Hei mihi
quod nullis amor est medicabilis herbis!" And so, with these Latin authorities
and other suchlike, they will at least account thee a good grammarian, and the
being of such an one is of no little honour and profit in this our age. As
touching the addition of annotations in the end of thy book, thou mayst boldly
observe this course: If thou namest any giant in thy book, procure that it be
the Giant Goliah; and with this alone (which almost will cost thee nothing),
thou hast gotten a fair annotation; for thou mayst say, "The Giant Golias or
Goliat was a Philistine, whom the shepherd David slew with the blow of a stone
in the Vale of Terebintho, as is recounted in the Book of Kings, in the
chapter wherein thou shalt find it written."
`After all this, to show that thou art learned in human letters, and a
cosmographer, take some occasion to make mention of the River Tagus, and thou
shalt presently find thyself stored with another notable notation, saying,
"The River Tagus was so called of a King of Spain; it takes its beginning from
such a place, and dies in the ocean seas, kissing first the walls of the
famous City of Lisbon, and some are of opinion that the sands thereof are of
gold, etc." If thou wilt treat of thieves, I will recite the history of Cacus
to thee, for I know it by memory; if of whores or courtezans, there thou hast
the Bishop of Mondonnedo, who will lend thee Lamia, Layda, and Flora, whose
annotation will gain thee no small credit; if of cruel persons, Ovid will
tender Medea; if of enchanters or witches, Homer hath Calypso, and Virgil
Circe; if of valorous captains, Julius Caesar shall lend himself in his
Commentaries to thee, and Plutarch shall give thee a thousand Alexanders. If
thou dost treat of love, and hast but two ounces of the Tuscan language, thou
shalt encounter with Lion the Hebrew, who will replenish thy vessels with
store in that kind; but, if thou wilt not travel for it into strange
countries, thou hast here at home in thy house Fonseca of the Love of God,
wherein is deciphered all that either thou or the most ingenious capacity can
desire to learn of that subject. In conclusion, there is nothing else to be
done, but that thou only endeavour to name those names, or to touch those
histories, in thine own, which I have here related, and leave the adding of
annotations and citations unto me; for I do promise thee that I will both fill
up the margent, and also spend four or five sheets of advantage at the end of
the book.
`Now let us come to the citation of authors, which other books have, and
thine wanteth; the remedy hereof is very easy; for thou needst do nought else
but seek out a book that doth quote them all from the letter A until Z, as
thou saidst thyself but even now, and thou shalt set that very same alphabet
to thine own book; for, although the little necessity that thou hadst to use
their assistance in thy work will presently convict thee of falsehood, it
makes no matter, and perhaps there may not a few be found so simple as to
believe that thou hast holp thyself in the narration of thy most simple and
sincere history with all their authorities. And, though that large catalogue
of authors do serve to none other purpose, yet will it, at least, give some
authority to the book, at the first blush; and the rather, because none will
be so mad as to stand to examine whether thou dost follow them or no, seeing
they can gain nothing by the matter. Yet, if I do not err in the consideration
of so weighty an affair, this book of thine needs none of all these things,
forasmuch as it is only an invective against books of knighthood, a subject
whereof Aristotle never dreamed, St. Basil said nothing, Cicero never heard
any word; nor do the punctualities of truth, nor observations of astrology,
fall within the sphere of such fabulous jestings; nor do geometrical
dimensions impart it anything, nor the confutation of arguments usurped by
rhetoric; nor ought it to preach unto any the mixture of holy matters with
profane (a motley wherewith no Christian well should be attired), only it hath
need to help itself with imitation; for, by how much the more it shall excel
therein, by so much the more will the work be esteemed. And, since that thy
labour doth aim at no more than to diminish the authority and acceptance that
books of chivalry have in the world, and among the vulgar, there is no reason
why thou shouldest go begging of sentences from philosophers, fables from
poets, orations from rhetoricians, or miracles from the saints, but only
endeavour to deliver with significant, plain, honest, and well-ordered words,
thy jovial and cheerful discourse, expressing as near as thou mayst possibly
thy intention, making thy conceits clear, and not intricate or dark; and
labour also that the melancholy man, by the reading thereof, may be urged to
laughter, the pleasant disposition increased, the simple not cloyed; and that
the judicious may admire thy invention, the grave not despise it, the prudent
applaud it. In conclusion, let thy project be to overthrow the ill-compiled
machina and bulk of those knightly books, abhorred by many, but applauded by
more; for, if thou bring this to pass, thou hast not achieved a small matter.`
I listened with very great attention to my friend`s speech; and his
reasons are so firmly imprinted in my mind, as, without making any reply unto
them, I approved them all for good, and framed my preface of them, wherein,
sweet reader, thou mayst perceive my friend`s discretion, my happiness to meet
with so good a counsellor at such a pinch, and thine own ease in finding so
plainly and sincerely related The History of the famous Don Quixote of the
Mancha, of whom it is the common opinion of all the inhabitants bordering on
the field of Montiel that he was the most chaste, enamoured, and valiant
knight that hath been seen, read, or heard of these many ages. I will not
endear the benefit and service I have done thee, by making thee acquainted
with so noble and honourable a knight, but only do desire that thou gratify me
for the notice of the famous Sancho Panza, his squire, in whom, in mine
opinion, are deciphered all the squire-like graces dispersed throughout the
vain rout of knightly books. And herewithal, I bid thee farewell, and do not
forget me. Vale.
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