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With insolence and envious spleen,
Conspired against him and his ass:
That ass! on which he gently trotted
At gentle Rozinante's tail:
Vain man! with flatt'ring hope besotted,
How, in a dream, thy prospects fuil !

Cachidiablo, Academician of Argamasilla, on the Sepulchre of Don Quixote.

EPITAPH.

On Rozinante's back

The knight that whilome travell'd Through highway, path, and track, Is here bemired and gravell'd: And eke as stiff as he,

The block of Sancho Panza,

A trusty 'squire perdie!
As ever mortal man saw.

Tiquitoc, Academician of Aragamasilla, on the Sepulchre of Dulcinea del Toboso.

Here lies Dulcinea, once so plump,
But now her fat all melts away;
For death, with an inhuman thump,
Has turn'd her into dust and clay.
Of a true breed she surely sprung,
And wanted not external grace;
Don Quixote's heart with love she stung,
And shone the glory of her race.

These were all the verses which could be read; the rest being worm-eaten, were delivered to an academician, that he might attempt to unravel their meaning by conjecture. This task, we understand, he has performed with infinite pains and study, intending to publish them to the world, in expectation of the third sally of Don Quixote.

"Forse altri canterà con miglior plettro."

END OF PART FIRST.

PREFACE.

can.

HEAVENS! with what eagerness must thou be waiting for this prologue, courteous reader, whosoever thou art, gentle or simple, in hope of finding it replete with resentment, reproaches; and revenge against the author of the second Don Quixote: him, I mean, who, it is reported, was engendered at Tordesillas, and brought forth in Tarragona. But, truly, I have no intention to give thee that satisfaction; for, although injuries may awaken indignation in vulgar breasts, mine, I hope, will always be an exception to that rule. Thou wouldst be glad, perhaps, to find me bestowing upon him the epithets of ass, blockhead, and insolent coxcomb; but such low revenge never once entered my imagination; his own conscience will sufficiently chastise him: let him therefore chew the cud of remorse, and digest it if he I own I cannot help feeling the unjust reproach, when he taxes me with lameness and old age, as if it had been in my power to retard the lapse of time; or that I had been maimed in some tavern brawl, and not on the most glorious occasion that ever the past or present age beheld, or posterity can ever hope to see. If my wounds do not brighten in the eyes of every spectator, they are, at least, esteemed by those who know where they were acquired ;* and who think, that a soldier who falls in battle makes a much more noble appearance than he who saves himself by flight. This opinion is so rooted within my own breast, that, were such an impossibility proposed and effected, I would rather be lame, as I am, with the share I had in that stupendous action, than sound of body, without the honour of having been there. The wounds that appear in a soldier's countenance and bosom are so many stars to guide the rest of mankind to the haven of honour, and the desire of honest praise; and it ought to be observed, that an author does not write with his grey hairs, but according to the dictates of his understanding, which is usually improved by years and experience. I perceive also, that he calls me envious; and, as if I were utterly ignorant, is at the pains to describe the nature of envy; though, I protest, of the two kinds, I only harbour that which is pure, virtuous, and noble. This being the case, as it undoubtedly is, I have not the least inclination to inveigh against any priest, especially one who bears the office of familiar to the holy inquisition; and, if what he says be advanced in behalf of him whose cause he seems to espouse, he is altogether mistaken, in my opinion, of that person, whose genius I adore: I admire his works, together with his continual occupation in the practice of virtue; but I am actually obliged to this honourable author, for saying that my novelst are more satirical than exemplary, though he owns they are good of their kind; for, without being exemplary, they cannot possibly be good.

I suppose, gentle reader, thou art by this time of opinion, that I walk with great circumspection, and scrupulously confine myself within the bounds of modesty, conscious that it is inhuman to heap affliction on the afflicted; and that this gentleman's must needs be very great, since he dares not appear in the open field, and in the face of Heaven, but conceals his name, and dissembles his country, as if he had been guilty of high treason: tell him, therefore, in my name, if ever thou shouldst chance to find him out, that I do not at all think myself injured by what he has done; for well do I know what temptations the devil spreads before us; and that one of his most effectual snares is to make a man believe that he has capacity to write a book, by which he shall obtain an equal share of money and reputation. In confirmation of what I say, I will beg the favour of you to tell him a short story:

The battle of Lepanto.

+ Novellas Exemplares.

21

VOL. III.

There was in Seville, a certain madman, seized with the most diverting whim that ever entered the brain of a lunatic. He used to walk with a hollow cane, pointed at one end; and whenever he met with a dog in the street, or in any other place, he clapped his foot on one of the creature's hind-legs, pulled up the other with his hand, and applying as well as he could, the pipe to his posteriors, instantly blew him up as round as a ball; this operation being performed, he clapt him twice on the belly, and dismissed the patient, saying very gravely to the mob, that never failed to gather round him, "Gentlemen, I suppose now you think it is an easy matter to blow up a dog." In like manner, I say, "I suppose your worship thinks it an easy matter to write a book." If this story should not be to his liking, be so good, friendly reader, as to tell this other, which also relates to a dog and a madman:

There was another idiot in Cordova, who had a trick of carrying upon his head a piece of marble, or heavy stone; and as often as he perceived any dog off his guard, he would approach him slily, and let it fall plump upon his head. This was no joke to the poor dog, who used to run barking and howling the length of three whole streets before he ventured to look behind. But, among others, he one day happened to discharge his burden on a capmaker's favourite dog; down went the stone upon his head, and the injured beast set up the howl; the master seeing what passed, was filled with indignation, snatched up his measure, and, sallying out upon the lunatic, did not leave a whole bone in his skin, saying, at every blow he bestowed, "Dog! rascal! use my spaniel in this manner! did you not see, barbarous villain, that my dog was a spaniel ?" Thus repeating the word spaniel a great many times, he beat the aggressor into jelly.

The madman being documented, sneaked off, and kept his chamber a whole month; at the end of which he returned to his former pastime, with a greater stone than ever, and, coming up to a dog that lay asleep, considered him with great attention, but was afraid of discharging the stone, saying, "Ware, spaniel!" In short, all the dogs he afterwards met with, whether curs or mastiffs, were in his opinion spaniels; so that he never ventured to repeat his experiment. Now this may be the fate of our historian, who will not choose to open the flood-gates of his wit again, in composing books, which, if bad, are harder than

stone.

Tell him likewise, that I value not his threats a farthing, when he says, that his performance will deprive me of bread; but answer him with a quotation from the famous interlude of the Perendenga, " To four-and-twenty live, my lord, and Christ be with us all." Long live the great Count de Lemos, whose well-known Christian generosity supports me against all the strokes of adverse fortune; and long life to the transcendent charity of the most illustrious Archbishop of Toledo, Don Bernardo de Sandoval y Rojas; if there was not one printing-press in the whole world, or if more books were published against me than there are letters in the couplets of Mingo Rebulgo, these two princes, unsolicited by any adulation or other kind of praise on my part, but purely out of their own benevolence, have been pleased to honour me with their countenance and favour, in which I think myself infinitely more happy and rich than if I had been conducted to the highest pinnacle of fortune in the ordinary way. Honour may be enjoyed by a poor, but never by a vicious man: nobility may be clouded by indigence, but never altogether obscured; for virtue, shining by its own internal light, even through the inconveniences and crannies of poverty, will recommend itself to the esteem of high and princely minds, and of consequence obtain their favour and protection. Thou needst say no more to him; nor will I give thee any further trouble, except to observe, that thou art to consider this second part of Don Quixote as a work of the same artificer, and composed of the same materials with the first, in which I present the knight at full length; and, in short, exhibit him dead and buried, that no man, for the future, may presume to raise fresh evidence against him; those already examined being sufficient for the purpose. The more so, as a man of honour has already given an account of his ingenious follies, without any intention to resume the subject: for there may be too much even of a good thing; and the scarcity of those things which are in themselves indifferent often brings them into some degree of estimation. I had almost forgot to tell thee, that thou mayest expect the Persiles, which I am now finishing, together with the second part of Galatea.

APPROBATION.

By order of Signor Doctor Gutierrez de Cetina, vicar-general of the city of Madrid, where his majesty keeps his court, I have perused the second part of the sage Knight Don Quixote de la Mancha, written by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra; in which I can find nothing unworthy of a zealous Christian, or deviating from that respect which is justly due to good example and moral virtue. On the contrary, the performance contains much erudition and profitable amusement, not only in the well-supported sequel of his design, to extirpate those vain and lying books of chivalry, which had already too far spread their infection, but also in the purity of his Castilian language, unadulterated with insipid affectation, which every man of sense abhors; and in his manner of correcting the vicious, who generally feel the point of his satire. Yet he so wisely observes the laws of Christian rebuke, that the patient labouring under the infirmity which he intends to cure, may, in such sweet and palatable medicine, even without his own knowledge, or the least hinderance and loathing, swallow down an effectual detestation for vice; so that he will find himself at once delighted and reformed, in consequence of an art which is known to few. There are many authors, who, not knowing how to blend and mix instruction with delight, have seen all their tedious labours miscarry; because, not being able to imitate Diogenes as a learned philosopher, they have presumed licentiously, not to say obscurely, to mimic him as a cynic, giving ear to slander, and inventing things that never happened; by which means they enlarge the vicious capacity of those whom their harsh reproofs stigmatize, and, perhaps, strike out new paths of lewdness hitherto unknown: so that, instead of reformers, they become teachers and abettors of vice. In this manner they grow hateful to men of sense, and lose all their credit, if they had any, with the people, who refuse to encourage their writings: while the vicious are rather hardened than amended by their rash and imprudent corruption; for the knife and caustic are not proper for all kinds of tumors, some of which are more successfully treated by soft and gentle remedies, by the application of which the experienced and learned physician often attains his end of discussing them,-a period much more eligible than that which is obtained by the barbarity of steel.

The writings of Miguel de Cervantes have met with a very different reception, not only from our nation, but likewise from strangers; who, as if he was something miraculous, are inflamed with the desire of seeing the author of those books which have met with such general applause, on account of the decency and decorum, as well as the agreeable sweetness of his style, in Spain, France, Italy, Germany, and Flanders. This I can with great truth affirm, that on the twentieth and fifth day of February, in this year of God one thousand six hundred and fifteen, I attended my master, his grace Don Bernardo de Sandoval y Rojas, cardinal archbishop of Toledo, when he returned the visit of the French ambassador, who came to treat about a double match between the princes and princesses of France and Spain; and several gentlemen of that country, belonging to the embassy, who were equally sensible and well-bred, as well as lovers of the belles lettres, in their conversation with me and the other chaplains of the cardinal, desired to know what books of genius were in highest esteem among us: I chanced to mention this performance, which was then under my examination; but no sooner did they hear the name of Miguel de Cervantes, than they be gan to expatiate upon the high esteem in which France and the neighbouring kingdoms held his productions; namely, the Galatea, which one of them could almost repeat, with the Novels, and the first part of Don Quixote. Such was the commendations they bestowed upon them, that I offered to introduce them to the author, whom they honoured with a thousand demonstrations of regard. They were curious to know his age, profession, quality,

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