obliged to set on at a good rate, to keep up with that there mettlesome nag, belonging to Signor Miguel de Cervantes.' Scarce had the student heard my name, when, springing from the back of his ass, while his pannel fell one way and his wallet another, he ran towards me, and, taking hold of my stirrup, Aye, aye, (cried he) this is the sound cripple! the renowned, the merry writer; in a word, the darling of the muses!" In order to make some return to these high compliments, I threw my arms about his neck, so that he lost his band by the eagerness of my embraces, and told him that he was mistaken, like many of my well-wishers. I am indeed Cervantes, (said I) but not the darling of the muses, or in any shape deserving of those encomiums you have bestowed; be pleased, therefore, good signor, to remount your beast, and let us travel together like friends the rest of the way.' The courteous student took my advice, and as we jogged on softly together, the conversation happening to turn on the subject of my illness, the stranger soon pronounced my doom, by assuring me, that my distemper was a dropsy, which all the water of the ocean, although it were not salt, would never be able to quench. 'Therefore, Signor Cervantes, (added the student), you must totally abstain from drink, but do not forget to eat heartily; and this regimen will effect your recovery without physic.' I have received the same advice from other people, (answered I), but I cannot help drinking, as if I had been born to do nothing else but drink. My life is drawing to a period, and by the daily journal of my pulse, which, I find, will have finished its course by next Sunday at farthest, I shall also have finished my career; so that you come in the very nick of time to be acquainted with me, though I shall have no opportunity of shewing how much I am obliged to you for your good-will. By this time he had reached the Toledo bridge, where, finding we must part, I embraced my student once more, and he having returned the compliment with great cordiality, spurred up his beast, and left me as ill disposed on my horse as he was ill mounted on his ass; although my pen itched to be writing some humorous description of his equipage: but, adieu my merry friends all; for I am going to die, and I hope to meet you again in the other world, as happy as heart can wish."

After this adventure, which he so pleasantly relates, nay, even in his last moments, he dictated a most affectionate dedication to his patron, the Count de Lemos, who was at that time president of the supreme council in Italy. He begins facetiously with a quotation from an old ballad, then proceeds to tell his excellency, that he had received extreme unction, and was on the brink of eternity; yet he wished he could live to see the Count's return, and even to finish the Weeks of the Garden, and the second part of Galatea, in which he had made some progress.

This dedication was dated April 19, 1617, and in all probability the author died the very next day, as the ceremony of the unction is never performed until the patient is supposed to be in extremity; certain it is, he did not long survive this period; for in September, a license was granted to Donna Catalina de Salaza, widow of Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, to print the Troubles of Persiles and Sigismunda, a northern history, which was accordingly pub lished at Madrid, and afterwards translated into Italian.

Thus have I collected and related all the material circumstances mentioned by history and tradition concerning the life of Cervantes, which I shall conclude with the portrait of his person, drawn by his own pen, in the preface to his novels. His visage was sharp and aquiline, his hair of a chesnut colour, his forehead smooth and high, his nose hookish or hawkish, his eye brisk and cheerful, his mouth little, his beard originally of a golden hue, his upper-lip furnished with large mustachios, his complexion fair, his stature of the middling size: and he tells us, moreover, that he was thick in the shoulders, and not very light in the foot.

In a word, Cervantes, whether considered as a writer or a man, will be found worthy of universal approbation and esteem; as we cannot help applauding that fortitude and courage which no difficulty could disturb, and no danger dismay; while we admire that delightful stream of humour and invention, which flowed so plenteous and so pure, surmounting all the mounds of malice and adversity.

THE Translator's aim, in this undertaking, was to maintain that ludicrous solemnity and self-importance by which the inimitable Cervantes has distinguished the character of Don Quixote, without raising him to the insipid rank of a dry philosopher, or debasing him to the melancholy circumstances and unentertaining caprice of an ordinary madman; and to preserve the native humour of Sancho Panza from degenerating into a mere proverbial phlegm, or affected buffoonery.

He has endeavoured to retain the spirit and ideas, without servilely adhering to the literal expression of the original; from which, however, he has not so far deviated as to destroy that formality of idiom so peculiar to the Spaniards, and so essential to the character of the work.

The satire and propriety of many of the allusions, which had been lost in the change of custom and lapse of time, are restored in explanatory notes; and the whole is conducted with that care and circumspection, which ought to be exerted by every author, who, in attempting to improve upon a task already performed, subjects himself to the most invidious comparison.

PREFACE TO THE READER.

IDLE reader, without an oath, thou mayest believe that I wish this book, as the child of my understanding, were the most beautiful, sprightly, and discreet production that ever was conceived. But it was not in my power to contravene the order of nature, in consequence of which, every creature procreates its own resemblance: what, therefore, could be engendered in my barren, ill-cultivated genius, but a dry meagre offspring, wayward, capricious, and full of whimsical notions peculiar to my own imagination, as if produced in a prison, which is the seat of inconvenience and the habitation of every dismal sound. Quiet solitude, pleasant fields, serene weather, purling streams, and tranquillity of mind, contribute so much to the fecundity even of the most barren genius, that it will bring forth productions so fair as to awaken the admiration and delight of mankind.

A man who is so unfortunate as to have an ugly child, destitute of every grace and favourable endowment, may be so hood-winked by paternal tenderness, that he cannot perceive his defects; but, on the contrary, looks upon every blemish as a beauty, and recounts to his friends every instance of his folly as a sample of his wit: but I, who, though seemingly the parent, am no other than the stepfather of Don Quixote, will not sail with the stream of custom, nor, like some others, supplicate thee, gentle reader, with the tears in my eyes, to pardon or conceal the faults which thou mayest spy in this production. Thou art neither its father nor kinsman; hast thy own soul in thy own body, and a will as free as the finest; thou art in thy own house, of which I hold thee as absolute master as the king of his revenue! and thou knowest the common saying, "Under my cloak the king is a joke.” These considerations free and exempt thee from all manner of restraint and obligation; so that thou mayest fully and frankly declare thy opinion of this history, without fear of calumny for thy censure, and without hope of recompense for thy approbation.

I wished only to present thee with the performance, clean, neat, and naked, without the ornament of a preface, and unencumbered with an innumerable catalogue of such sonnets, epigrams, and commendatory verses, as are generally prefixed to the productions of the present age; for I can assure thee, that although the composition of the book hath cost me some trouble, I have found more difficulty in writing this preface, which is now under thy inspection: divers and sundry times did I seize the pen, and as often laid it aside, for want of knowing what to say; and during this uneasy state of suspense, while I was one day ruminating on the subject, with the paper before me, the quill behind my ear, my elbow fixed on the table, and my cheek leaning on my hand, a friend of mine, who possesses a great fund of humour and an excellent understanding, suddenly entered the apartment, and, finding me in this musing posture, asked the cause of my being so contemplative? As I had no occasion to conceal the nature of my perplexity, I told him I was studying a preface for the history of Don Quixote; a task which I found so difficult, that I was resolved to desist, and even suppress the adventures of such a noble cavalier; for you may very easily suppose how much I must be confounded at the animadversion of that ancient lawgiver the vulgar, when it shall see me, after so many years that I have slept in silence and oblivion, produce, in my old age, a performance as dry as a rush, barren of invention, meagre in style, beggarly in conceit, and utterly destitute of wit and erudition; without quotation in the margin, or annotations at the end; as we see in other books, let them be never so fabulous and profane: indeed, they are generally so stuffed with apothegms from Aristotle, Plato, and the whole

This is a strong presumption that the first part of Don Quixote was actually written in a gaol.

body of philosophers, that they excite the admiration of the readers, who look upon such authors as men of unbounded knowledge, eloquence, and erudition. When they bring a citation from the holy Scripture, one would take them for so many St Thomases and other doctors of the church; herein observing such ingenious decorum, that in one line they will represent a frantic lover, and in the very next begin with a godly sermon, from which the Christian readers, and even the hearers, receive much comfort and edification. Now, my book must appear without all these advantages; for I can neither quote in the margin, nor note in the end: nor do I know what authors I have imitated, that I may, like the rest of my brethren, prefix them to the work in alphabetical order, beginning with Aristotle, and ending in Xenophon, Zoilus, or Zeuxis, though one was a backbiter, and the other a painter. My history must likewise be published without poems at the beginning, at least without sonnets written by dukes, marquises, counts, bishops, ladies, and celebrated poets: although, should I make the demand, I know two or three good-natured friends who would oblige me with such verses as should not be equalled by the most famous poetry in Spain.

In a word, my good friend, said I, Signor Don Quixote shall be buried in the archives of la Mancha, until Heaven shall provide some person to adorn him with those decorations he seems to want; for I find myself altogether unequal to the task, through insufficiency and want of learning; and because I am naturally too bashful and indolent to go in quest of authors to say what I myself can say as well without their assistance. Hence arose my thoughtfulness and meditation, which you will not wonder at, now that you have heard the cause. My friend having listened attentively to my remonstrance, slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand, and bursting into a loud laugh, "Fore God! brother (said he), I am now undeceived of an error, in which I have lived during the whole term of our acquaintance; for I always looked upon you as a person of prudence and discretion; but now I sec you are as far from that character as heaven is distant from the earth. What is it possible that such a trifling inconvenience, so easily remedied, should have power to mortify and perplex a genius like yours, brought to such maturity, and so well calculated to demolish and surmount much greater difficulties? in good faith, this does not proceed from want of ability, but from excessive indolence, that impedes the exercise of reason. If you would be convinced of the truth of what I allege, give me the hearing, and in the twinkling of an eye, all your difficulties shall vanish, and a remedy be prescribed for all those defects which, you say, perplex your understanding, and deter you from ushering to the light your history of the renowned Don Quixote, the luminary and sole mirror of knight-errantry." Hearing this declaration, I desired he would tell me in what manner he proposed to fill up the vacuity of my apprehension, to diffuse light, and reduce to order the chaos of my confusion; and he replied, "Your first objection, namely, the want of sonnets, epigrams, and commendatory verses from persons of rank and gravity, may be obviated, by your taking the trouble to compose them yourself, and then you may christen them by any name you shall think proper to choose, fathering them upon Prestor John of the Indies, or the emperor of Trebisond, who, I am well informed, were very famous poets: and even should this intelligence be untrue, and a few pedants and bachelors of arts should backbite and grumble at your conduct, you need not value them three farthings; for, although they convict you of a lie, they cannot cut off the hand that wrote it.*

With regard to the practice of quoting in the margin such books and authors as have furnished you with sentences and sayings for the embellishment of your history, you have nothing to do, but to season the work with some Latin maxims, which your own memory will suggest, or a little industry in searching easily obtain: for example, in treating of freedom and captivity, you may say, Non bene pro toto libertas venditur auro: and quote Horace, or whom you please, in the margin. If the power of death happens to be your subject, you have at hand," Pallida mors æquo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas regumque turres." And, in expatiating upon the love and friendship which God commands us to entertain even for our enemies, you may have recourse to the holy Scripture, though you should have never so little cusiosity, and say, in the very words of God himself, Ego

Alluding to the loss of his hand in the battle of Lepanto.

autem dico vobis, diligite inimicos vestros.' In explaining the nature of malevolence, you may again extract from the Gospel, De corde exeunt cogitationes malæ.' And the instability of friends may be aptly illustrated by this distich of Cato, Donec cris selex, multos numerabis amicos; tempora si fuerint nubilla, solus eris.' By these, and other such scraps of Latin, you may pass for an able grammarian; a character of no small honour and advantage in these days. And as to the annotations at the end of the book, you may safely furnish them in this manner: when you chance to write about giants, be sure to mention Goliath, and this name alone, which costs you nothing, will afford a grand annotation, couched in these words: The giant Golias, or Goliat, was a Philistine, whom the shepherd David slew with a stone from a sling, in the valley of Terebinthus, as it is written in such a chapter of the book of Kings.'

"If you have a mind to display your erudition and knowledge of cosmography, take an opportunity to introduce the river Tagus into your history, and this will supply you with another famous annotation, thus expressed: The river Tagus, so called from a king of Spain, takes its rise in such a place, and is lost in the sea, after having kissed the walls of the famous city of Lisbon; and is said to have golden sands, &c.' If you treat of robbers, I will relate the story of Cacus, which I have by rote. If of harlots, the bishop of Mondoneda will lend you a Lamia, a Lais, and a Flora, and such a note will greatly redound to your credit. When you write of cruelty, Ovid will surrender his Medea. When you mention wizards and enchanters, you will find a Calypso in Homer and a Circe in Virgil. If you have occasion to speak of valiant captains, Julius Cæsar stands ready drawn in his own Commentaries; and from Plutarch you may extract a thousand Alexanders. If your theme be love, and you have but two ounces of the Tuscan tongue, you will light upon Leon Hebreo, who will fill up the measure of your desire: and if you do not choose to travel into foreign countries, you have at home Fonseca's Treatise on the Love of God, in which all that you, or the most ingenious critic, can desire, is fully deciphered and discussed. In a word, there is nothing more to be done, than to procure a number of these names, and hint at their particular stories in your text; and leave to me the task of making annotations and quotations, with which I'll engage, on pain of death, to fill up all the margins, besides four whole sheets at the end of the book. Let us now proceed to the citation of authors so frequent in other books, and so little used in your performance; the remedy is obvious and easy: take the trouble to find a book that quotes the whole tribe alphabetically, as you observed, from Alpha to Omega, and transfer them into your book; and though the absurdity should appear never so glaring, as there is no necessity for using such names, it will signify nothing. Nay, perhaps some reader will be weak enough to believe you have actually availed yourself of all those authors, in the simple and sincere history you have composed; and if such a large catalogue of writers should answer no other purpose, it may serve at first sight to give some authority to the production: nor will any person take the trouble to examine whether you have or have not followed those originals, because he can reap no benefit from his labour. But if I am not mistaken, your book needs none of those embellishments in which you say it is defective; for it is one continued satire upon books of chivalry; a subject which Aristotle never investigated, St Basil never mentioned, and Cicero never explained. The punctuality of truth, and the observations of astrology, fall not within the fabulous relation of our adventures; to the description of which, neither the proportions of geometry, nor the confirmation of rhetorical arguments, are of the least importance; nor hath it any connexion with preaching, or mingling divine truths with human imagination; a mixture which no Christian's fancy should conceive. It only seeks to avail itself of imitation, and the more perfect this is, the more entertaining the book will be: now, as your sole aim in writing is to invalidate the authority, and ridicule the absurdity of those books of chivalry, which have, as it were, fascinated the eyes and judgment of the world, and, in particular, of the vulgai you have no occasion to go a begging maxims from philosophers, exhortations from holy writ, fables from poets, speeches from orators, or miracles from saints; your business is, with plain, significant, well-chosen, and elegant words, to render your periods sonorous, and your style entertaining; to give spirit and expression to all your descriptions, and communicate your ideas without obscurity and confusion. You must endeavour to write in such a manner as to convert melancholy into mirth, increase good-humour, entertain the ignorant, excite the admiration of the learned, escape the contempt of gravity, and attract applause from

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