Part 5

About this time the appearance of an extraordinary literary production created a great sensation throughout Spain. This was a pretended continuation of _Don Quixote_, by a writer who assumed the name of Avellaneda. This production though not absolutely devoid of talent has received from some critics more approbation than it deserves. One marked difference may be noticed as existing between the great work of Cervantes and the spurious production of his imitator; it is that the wild fancies of _Don Quixote_ are prepared by circumstances likely to lead to them, in a mind subject to such aberrations as that of the Knight of La Mancha; whereas Avellaneda’s hero plunges into all sorts of extravagance without any sufficient cause. It is merely a narrative of marvellous incidents, of a nature calculated to gratify puerile taste; but the ingenuity requisite to please the intelligent reader is totally wanting. The work was translated into French by Le Sage, who, as Mr. Prescott justly observes “has given a substantial value to gems of little price in Castilian literature, by the brilliancy of his setting.”[45] The real name of the author of this literary imposture, was never discovered. He was supposed to be an Arragonian priest.

Instead of indulging in idle complaint or bitter invective, Cervantes nobly resented this injury by producing the second part of his _Don Quixote_. This second part, which was published in 1615, obtained even a greater share of public approbation than that which had greeted the first part. The proceeds derived from the sale, could not have been inconsiderable, and must have proved an acceptable addition to the author’s pecuniary resources. It is also ascertained that at this period his income was augmented by the liberality of the Count de Lemos and the Archbishop of Toledo, whose friendship Cervantes, amidst all his misfortunes, had secured; and there appears reason to hope that his latter years were in some degree exempt from the struggles which at various times embittered the earlier periods of his life.

The leisure which his improved circumstances afforded was employed in completing some of his unfinished works, and in writing those which he had previously only sketched in outline. He gave the finishing touch to his _Galatea_, and he produced several poetic works, of which the romance of _Persiles y Sigismunda_ is the only one preserved. This poem, an avowed imitation of the style of _Heliodorus_, was preferred by the author himself to any of his other works; a preference at variance with the unanimous judgment of literary criticism. But with all its faults, its paramount beauties must be admitted;--and the writer, who at the age of sixty-eight could produce so glowing a creation of poetic fancy, may, to borrow Calderón’s simile, be likened to a volcano, in which, beneath a cap of snow, flow streams of fire.

Cervantes dedicated _Persiles_ to his patron, the Count de Lemos, in a _prólogo_ or preface, which is one of the most graceful pieces of writing its author ever produced.

This poem was finished in the spring of 1616, at which time the declining health of Cervantes began to excite the alarm of his friends. Hoping to derive benefit from change of air, he occasionally made visits to Esquivias, where his wife’s family still resided. He went on one of those excursions only a few days prior to his death; and he himself related that whilst returning home to Madrid, in company with some friends, they were overtaken by a student, who joined in their conversation, and they all rode on together. This student, on recognising Cervantes, greeted him with the titles of, “Pleasant writer! the favourite of the Muses!” (_¡Escritor alegre! ¡el regocijo de las Musas!_). In the course of conversation, Cervantes acquainted the student that he was suffering from dropsy, and that he feared the disorder would speedily reach a fatal crisis, adding, as it were prophetically, he thought he should not live beyond the following Sunday.

The malady speedily assumed so formidable an aspect as to preclude all hope of recovery. On the 18th of April, 1616, Cervantes received extreme unction, and on the day following he finished the dedicatory preface to _Persiles_. When about to depart on the long journey of death, his memory reverted to some old Spanish coplas, which commence with the words, “_Puesto ya el pie en el estribo_,” (with one foot already in the stirrup). To these quaint old lines, he playfully alludes in the dedication of his last work, where, addressing the Count de Lemos, he observes:--“These old coplas, so popular in their day, may perhaps come opportunely into this epistle, which I might commence almost in the same words, saying--

Puesto ya el pie en el estribo, Con las ansias de la muerte, Gran Señor, ésta te escribo.[46]

“Yesterday they gave me the extreme unction, and to-day I write this.”

After an illness of seven months’ duration, Cervantes expired on the 23rd of April, 1616, in his sixty-ninth year. It is a curious fact, and one that will not escape the observation of the English reader, that Cervantes and Shakespeare, two writers whose genius exhibits more than one trait of resemblance, both died on the same day.[47]

In conformity with his own desire, Cervantes was interred in the Convent of the Trinitarias, situated in the Calle del León, in Madrid, in which street he himself resided at the period of his death. The quiet and unostentatious style of his funeral corresponded with his humble circumstances, and no monument or even inscription of any kind marks the spot where the ashes of Cervantes repose.

FOOTNOTES:

[5] That learned Benedictine wrote an essay entitled _Noticias de la Verdadera patria de Cervantes; y conjectura sobre la insula Barataria_. (Observations relative to the native place of Cervantes, and conjectures respecting the Island of Barataria). It has never been printed, and is very scarce, but the writer of this memoir has recently had the opportunity of perusing an old MS. copy.

[6] There is some reason to conjecture that this lady was a relative of Isabel de Urbina, the first wife of Lope de Vega. It is pleasing to indulge the belief that such was really the fact, and that the two most eminent writers Spain has produced were allied by family ties, as well as by kindred genius.

[7]

“Desde mis tiernos años amé el arte Dulce de la agradable Poesía.”

_Viaje del Parnaso.--Cap. IV._

[8] In _El Licenciado Vidriera_, and in _La Tía fingida_.

[9] “Relacion de la muerte y exequias de la Reyna Doña Isabel de Valois,”--(Published in Madrid in 1569). It is worthy of notice that the first poetic essays of Cervantes were dedicated to the memory of a princess, whose marriage with Phillip II., after having been the affianced bride of his son, forms a romantic episode in history, and is the subject of Schiller’s tragedy of _Don Carlos_.

[10] “No había mejores soldados, que los que se transplantaban de la tierra de los estudios en los campos de la guerra, y ninguno salió de estudiante para soldado, que no lo fuese por estremo; porque quando se avienen y se juntan las fuerzas con el ingenio, y el ingenio con las fuerzas, hacen un compuesto milagroso en quien Marte se alegre.”

[11] At the period here alluded to, the rank of a private soldier was far from being considered degrading. Young men of birth and fortune, on entering the army, frequently served for some time as private soldiers, before they attained a rank which invested them with any authority or importance.

[12] Cervantes does not here overrate the importance of the Battle of Lepanto, the consequences of which were for a time very fatal to the Turks, and threatened to shake to its foundation the throne of Selim II. When Pope Pius V. heard of the victory, he held up his hands and exclaimed in Ecstasy,--“There was a man sent from God, and his name was John,”--alluding to Don John of Austria.

[13]

Arrojóse mi vista a la campaña Rasa del mar, que trujo a mi memoria Del heroica Don Juan, la heroica hazaña Donde con alta de saldados gloria. I con proprio valor, I curado pecho Tuve (aunque humilde) parte en la Victoria.

_Viaje del Parnaso, Cap. I._

[14] Piso sus rúas más de un año.

[15] _Prólogo_ to the Novelas Exemplares.

[16] It has been commonly conjectured that Cervantes narrated his own adventures in the history of the “Captive,” in Don Quixote. With that story he has doubtless interwoven some of the incidents of his own life, for example, the particulars relating to the Battle of Lepanto. As to Captain Viedma’s captivity in Algiers and his elopement with the Moorish lady Zorayda, if those events are really founded on fact, the hero of them was probably one of the Spaniards who suffered captivity in company with Cervantes.

[17] In the year 1581, there was published in Grenada, a _Narrative of the captivity of 185 Christians in Algiers_, by the Fathers Juan Gil, and Antonio la Bella. This work is very scarce, but a copy exists in the Real Biblioteca at Madrid. The narrative contains a list of captives ransomed; and in this list appears the following entry: “Miguel de Cervantes, aged thirty, a native of Alcalá de Henares.” This fact was unknown, until the latter part of the last century, when the narrative above-mentioned happened to be perused by Don Juan de Yriate, Librarian to the King of Spain, who announced the fact, and therefore to him is assigned the honour of having been the discoverer of the birth place of Cervantes.

[18] In the story of the “Captive,” in _Don Quixote_, there is one passage in which Cervantes alludes, in a direct manner, to himself. It occurs in the description given by Captain Viedma of the imprisonment of himself and his companions in the Bagnios of Algiers, and is as follows:--“One Spanish soldier only, whose name was something or other (_un tal_) de Saavedra, Aga Hassan treated with greater consideration than the rest. This soldier did things which will remain in the memory of the Algerines for many years to come; all for the sake of recovering his liberty, and that of his companions. For the least of many things that he did, we all feared that he would be empaled alive--and he feared it himself oftener than once.”

[19] Lope de Vega, in his _Cautivos de Argel_, alludes to the plays acted by the captives in Algiers, and the old Spanish romances which were sung in those plays.

[20] This sister, who was older than Miguel, was at this time married to Sanctes Ambrosio or Ambrosi, a native of Florence.

[21] It will be recollected that he was originally the slave of Dali-Mami; but was forfeited to Aga Hassan, after his capture in the cave.

[22] The discrepancy observable in the statements of the mother and son, relative to the age, might be merely the effect of lapse of memory; or possibly the mother may have reckoned as completed the year which was only commenced, whilst the son may have counted his age by the number of years he had actually completed. This latter supposition would at least account for the difference of one year in the reckoning.

[23] Uno de los mayores contentos, que en esta vida se puede tener, cual es, llegar despues de luengo cautiverio, salvo y sano à su patria: porque no hay en la tierra contento que se iguale à alcanzar la libertad perdida.

[24] Don Antonio, a natural son of the Infante Don Luis, was one of the claimants of the Crown of Portugal, after the death of Cardinal Henry.

[25]

Inopemque paterni Et laris et fundi; paupertas impulit audax Ut versus facerem.--Epist. lib. ii.

[26] Tomando ya la espada, ya la pluma. Lope de Vega’s _Laurel de Apolo_.

[27] Bouterwek’s “_History of Spanish Literature_.”

[28] A shepherd of the banks of the Tagus.

[29] A shepherdess, born on the margin of that river.

[30] Pellicer is of opinion that Cervantes intended the _Galatea_ as an homage to the lady of his affections; a sort of literary courtship, not uncommon among the writers of that age. “Catalina, the name of the lady in question,” he observes, “might by a slight change, and the transposition of the letters, be converted into _Galatea_. In like manner,” he adds, “the fictitious names given to the shepherds in the romance, bear some resemblance to the real ones of the persons to whom they are supposed to apply; viz.--_Meliso_ for _Mendoza_ (the celebrated Don Diego de Mendoza), _Lauso_ for _Luis_ (Luis Barabona de Soto being the individual referred to).”

[31] Literally _Comedies of the cloak and the sword_. Their subjects were taken from the sphere of Spanish fashionable life, and they were pictures of the manners of the age. They were performed in the prevailing costume of the time, to which circumstance they owe their specific classification as plays of the _cloak and sword_.

[32] These observations occur in the Adjunta or Appendix to the _Viaje del Parnaso_, in an imaginary conversation between Cervantes and one Don Pancrasio de Roncesvalles, who describes himself to be a poet “by the grace of Apollo.” Don Pancrasio enquires whether Cervantes has written any plays; to which question our author returns the following answer--“Si, muchas, i a no ser mias me parecieran dignas de alabanza, como lo fueron _los tratos de Argel_, _la Numancia_, _la gran Turquesea_, _la Batalla naval_, _la Gerusalem_, _la Amaranta_, _el Bosque amoroso_, _la Unica i la Vizarra Arsinda_, i otras muchas de que no me acuerdo. Mas la que yo más estimo i de la que más me precio, fué, i es de una llamado _la Confusa_, la qual, con paz sea dicho, de quantas comedias de capa i espada hasta hoi se han representado, bien puede tener lugar señalado por buena entre las mejoras.”

[33] Bouterwek’s _History of Spanish Literature_.

[34] Canto de Caliope.

[35] Se acogía al remedio à que otros muchos perdidos en aquella ciudad (Sevilla) se acogen, que es el al pasarse a las Indias, refugio y amparo de los desesperados de España.

[36] Some accounts state that whilst in La Mancha, Cervantes got involved in a street quarrel in the town of Argamasilla, and that in consequence of that affair he once more became the inmate of a jail. This, coupled with a hint, though a very vague one, thrown out by Cervantes himself, in the preface to the second part of _Don Quixote_ has given rise to the conjecture that the first part was written in a prison.

[37] According to some accounts it was not published till 1605. But 1604 is the date recorded by Don Antonio de Pellicer.

[38] “Salió a la luz del mundo con general aplauso de las gentes.”--_Don Quixote_, part II.

[39] Everyone who has read _Don Quixote_ in Spanish must be sensible of the peculiar charm of the diction of Cervantes. On this subject, the critic above quoted observes, “It is the style of the old romances of chivalry improved and applied in a totally original way; and only in the dialogue passages is each person found to speak as he might be expected really to do, in his own character.” The speech of the shepherdess Marcella is, by the same high authority, pronounced to be, “in the true prose style of Cicero, and altogether a composition which has seldom been equalled in any modern language.”

[40] Mayans y Siscar and Pellicer quote this anecdote on the authority of Baltasar Porreño, who wrote a work entitled _Sayings and Doings (Dichos y Hechos) of Philip III_. As the incident, recorded in the anecdote, is stated to have taken place in Madrid, it must have occurred after the year 1606, when the Court removed from Valladolid to the capital.

[41] Cervantes was at this time fifty-seven. The deposition vaguely says, _más de cincuenta años_ (more than fifty years).

[42] The fac-simile engraved with the portrait which illustrates this volume, is from the signature affixed to this document.

[43] Yo soy el primero que he novelado en la lengua castellana; las muchas novelas que en ella andan impresas todas son traducidas de lenguas extrangeras; y estas son mias propias, no imitadas ni hurtadas: mi ingenio las engendró, y las parió mi pluma, y van creciendo en los brazos de la estampa.--_Viaje del Parnaso._

[44] Eight Plays and Interludes.

[45] Biographical and Critical Miscellanies, by W. H. Prescott, Esq.

[46] With one foot already in the stirrup, and in the anguish of death, noble Señor I write to you.

[47] It must, however, be borne in mind that the Gregorian Calendar had not at that period been introduced in England.

EL BUSCAPIÉ.

_Wherein is related what befel the author when he travelled to Toledo, in company with a student whom he met on the road._

It happened, once on a time, that being on my way to Toledo, just as I was approaching the Toledana Bridge, I descried advancing towards me a student mounted on a most villainous-looking nag. The poor animal was blind of one eye, and not much better than blind of the other; neither was he very sound in the legs, if I might judge from the numerous reverences he made as he wearily moved onward. The student gravely saluted me, and I with all due courtesy returned his greeting. He spurred his poor nag with the intention of advancing more expeditiously, but the miserable animal was so worn out by old age and hard usage, that it was piteous even to behold him.

The rider whipped his horse, but the horse, heedless of the blows, showed no disposition to quicken his pace. He turned a deaf ear to all the commands of his master, who, in truth, might as well have shouted down into the depths of the well of Airon, or up to the summit of Mount Cabra.

This contest between horse and rider had proceeded for some time, to my no small diversion, when, at length, the descendant of Babieca,[48] as though suddenly roused by the severe treatment to which he was subjected, seemed determined not to proceed another foot. In proportion as he was urged to advance, he appeared resolved to stand stock still, or, rather, he shewed more disposition to go backward than forward.

Thereupon the rider flew into a furious rage, and began belabouring the unfortunate horse without mercy, though, as it proved this time, not without effect. Anticipating a smart stroke of the whip, which the upraised arm of his master was preparing to inflict, the animal began to kick and plunge, and after two or three curvets, both horse and rider came to the ground.

I, seeing this mishap, pressed forward my mule, which, by the bye, was anything but swift footed. Having reached the spot where the unlucky student lay rolling in the dust, and uttering a torrent of imprecations, I quickly dismounted, saying--“Compose yourself, señor, and let me assist you to rise. These accidents must be expected by persons who journey on the backs of such crazy animals.”

“Crazy animals!” said he, “your’s appears crazy enough; but I have only to thank the high spirit and mettle of mine for bringing me to this strait!”

Restraining my laughter as I best could, and with as grave a face as I was able to put on, I helped the fallen horseman to rise, which was no easy matter, for he appeared to be much hurt. Having got him upon his feet, I beheld before me the strangest figure in the world. He was short of stature, and on his shoulders there was a graceful hump, which might be likened to an _estrambote_,[49] tacked to a sonnet, and which brought to my recollection the stanzas in praise of hunch-backs indited by the ingenious Licentiate Tamuriz.[A] His legs were curved like two slices of melon, and his feet were encased in shoes, twelve inches long; and perhaps, without incurring any mistake, I might assign to them even greater magnitude.

The student raised his hands to his head, as if to assure himself that his pericranium had sustained no fracture. Feeling the effects of his fall, he turned to me, and, in a faint and languid tone of voice, said, that since I was a doctor (which he must have conjectured from seeing that I rode on a mule),[50] he begged I would tell him of some remedy to cure his aching bones.

I returned for answer, that I was not a doctor, but that even if I were as well skilled in the knowledge of medicine as Juan de Villalobos,[B] of the bygone time, or as Nicolo Monardes, of the time present,[C] I could prescribe for him no better physic than rest and sleep; and I added, that as noontide was advancing, the best cure for his aching bones would be to recline for a while beneath the shade of some trees which grew by the road side. There I proposed we should seek shelter against Apollo’s scorching rays, until, less oppressed by heat and weariness, we might each pursue our course.

“This is strange,” resumed the student in the same doleful tone in which he had before spoken. “Who could have imagined that by reason of the vicious temper of that unruly beast, the whole body of a bachelor of Salamanca should be thus bruised from head to foot! Mark me! I say of Salamanca, not of Alcalá, where none but poor miserable fellows graduate; but by so doing they lose all the privileges and immunities enjoyed by Spanish hidalgos at Salamanca. Alas! what a disaster has befallen me. They told me at the inn that I should find this horse restive and unruly. Nevertheless, he is a fine animal. His smooth sleek skin denotes his high breeding. How finely shaped are his limbs, how black and well rounded his hoofs, and so hollow and dry underneath! His pasterns are short; neither too high nor too low; thereby indicating strength. His fore-legs are sinewy, and his shins short and well formed; the knees firm, smooth, and large. How full and fleshy are his hind quarters, and how round and expanded his chest. His nostrils are so wide and distended, that one can discern the ruddy tint within them. His mouth is large, and the dilated veins are visible in every part of his fine head.”[51]

Perceiving that my friend the bachelor was preparing to extend still further the catalogue of excellent qualities which were neither possessed by his horse, nor by any of his horse’s race, I cut the matter short by saying, very composedly, “Pardon me, señor, if I cannot descry in your horse any of the beauties and merits which are so apparent to you. The limbs which you admire, appear to me very ill formed; the sleek skin you extol to the skies, is covered with marks and cuts; and as to his full black eyes, I wish I may lose my own eyes if I see anything in them but the overflowing of the vicious humours inherent in the nature of the miserable beast.”

To these remarks, which were taken in no ill part, my interlocutor rejoined with an air of doubt and misgiving,--“Well, probably it may be as you say, señor, and not as I have fancied; but still you must admit, that though I may be under a mistake, I have advanced nothing at variance with reason; and if I think I perceive what you cannot discern, my error may be occasioned by short-sightedness, a complaint from which I have suffered from my childhood, and which, being increased by much reading and no little writing, now afflicts me severely. You must know, señor, that on my departure from the inn, I had with me a very handsome pair of spectacles, but this mischievous animal, instigated, no doubt, by some demon that possesses him, made five or six capers (I will not be certain about the precise number), but by one of them I was thrown into the river, from whence I escaped with a good ducking and the loss of my spectacles.”

So saying, the poor fellow heaved a sigh, which seemed to come from his inmost soul; then, after a brief pause, he said,--“But without further delay, let us withdraw from the burning sunshine, to the cool shade of those broad spreading trees. There I may at least find a truce to the miseries which have this day beset me. We will tie the horse and mule to the trunks of the trees, and let them for a while feast on the grass which, in these parts, affords plentiful pasture for flocks and herds.”