1615.doc - SECOND PART OF THE INGENIOUS KNIGHT DON QUIXOTE...

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Unformatted text preview: SECOND PART OF THE INGENIOUS KNIGHT DON QUIXOTE DE LA MANCHA. By Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, author of its first part. Dedicated to don Pedro Fernández of Castro, Count of Lemos, of Andrade, and of Villalba; Marquis of Sarria, Gentleman-in-waiting to His Majesty, Commander of the Patronage of Peñafiel, and Officer of the Order of Alcántara; Viceroy, Governor, and Captain-General of the Kingdom of Naples, and President of the Supreme Council of Italy A.D. 1615 WITH COPYRIGHT In Madrid, by Juan de la Cuesta, Sold in the establishment of Francisco de Robles, bookseller of the King, our lord. Prologue to the Reader GOD HELP ME, HOW anxiously you must be waiting for this prologue, illustrious or plebeian reader, expecting me to avenge myself, denounce, and reproach the author of the second Quixote. I mean the fellow they say was conceived in Tordesillas and was born in Tarragona. 1 But in truth I can’t give you this satisfaction, for although injustice typically awakens wrath in the meekest of hearts, my case will be the exception to this rule. You would have me call him an ass, an idiot, or an insolent person, but I’m far from doing that —let his sin punish him, «let him eat it on his bread», 2 and let’s say no more. What offended me the most was his saying that I’m old and maimed, 3 as if I had it in my power to stop time, and as though my maimed arm was a result of some tavern brawl rather than from the noblest battle any age ever 1  Since you are reading the prologue, you should also read the part of the Introduction that talks about Alonso Fernández de Avellaneda, the author of the 1614 continuation of Don Quixote. The title page of Avellaneda’s book says that he is from Tordesillas, and that his book was printed in Tarragona. 2  This is an old Spanish saying. 3  Avellaneda says that Cervantes is as old as the “Castillo de San Cervantes” in Toledo, as it was colloquially known. It’s really the Castle of San Servando, near the Alcántara Bridge, and dating from the 9th century. Avellaneda also says that “Cervantes confesses that he has only one hand.” These references can be found in Martín de Riquer’s edition of Avellaneda’s Quixote, Clásicos Castellanos 174, pp. 10 and 8. witnessed, or that current and future ages will ever witness. 4 If my wounds don’t seem resplendent in the eyes of the man on the street, they’re revered at least by those who know where they came from, since the soldier looks better dead in battle than free in flight. I’m so convinced of this that if this impossible situation were offered to me right now—that I could be free from my wounds by not having participated in that battle—I would refuse. Wounds that a soldier has on his face or his chest are stars that guide others to the heaven of honor and to the thirst for earned praise. Also bear in mind that you don’t write with grey hairs, but rather with your intellect, which only gets better with the passage of time. I also take offense that he calls me envious, and that he goes on to explain to me, as if I were stupid, what envy is. Of the two kinds of envy, 5 I know only the one that’s holy, noble, and pure. And that being so—as it is— I’m not of a mind to attack any priest, especially if he’s a member of the Holy Office. And if he said that for the benefit of whom I think he said it, 6 he made an enormous mistake, since I worship his genius, I admire his works, and his ever virtuous way of life.7 But I’m indeed grateful to this author when he says that my Novellas are more satirical than exemplary, but good withal—which they wouldn’t be if they didn’t have both qualities. It seems to me that you must be saying that I’m showing great restraint and I’m containing myself within the bounds of modesty, knowing that one shouldn’t add more misery to the person who is suffering; and the suffering of this man must be great since he doesn’t dare appear in an open field under the clear sky, but rather conceals his name and disguises his hometown, as if he has committed high treason. If by chance you happen to run into him, tell him for me that I don’t consider myself insulted; that I know very well what temptations of the devil are, and one of the greatest ones is to make a man think that he can write and publish a book to become as famous as he is rich, and as rich as he is famous. To confirm this I want you to tell him this witty and charming story: In Seville there dwelled a madman who came up with the most amusing nonsense and hobby that any madman ever dreamed up. And it was that he 4  This was the Battle of Lepanto. See Part I, Chapter 39, note 17. 5  This first type of envy is one of the seven deadly sins, together with pride, covetousness, lust, gluttony, anger, and sloth. The second type of envy, the one Cervantes is referring to here, is what Vicente Gaos calls “noble emulation.” 6  This person is Lope de Vega, the famous playwright and Cervantes’ rival. 7  Cervantes knew about Lope’s scandalous private life. fashioned a tube with a sharp end, and would catch a dog in the street, or anywhere else, and with his foot he would hold down one of the dog’s back legs, and he would lift the other leg with his hand, and would fit the tube as well as he could into the place where, when he blew into it, he made the dog as round as a ball. Keeping it in this position, he would give it a couple of little slaps on its belly and would let it go, saying to the bystanders—and there were always a lot of them: “Do your graces think that it’s not much work to inflate a dog?” Does your grace think now that it’s not much work to make a book? And if this story doesn’t seem quite right, you’ll tell him, dear reader, this one, which is also about a madman and a dog: There was in Cordova another madman who used to balance a piece of marble or other such stone—and not a light one either—on his head, and when he came across an unsuspecting dog, he went up to it and let the stone fall straight down onto it. The dog would be inordinately vexed and would go barking and yelping for three blocks. It happened that among the dogs onto which he discharged his load was one belonging to a hatmaker, whose owner loved him very much. He dropped his stone, it hit the dog’s head, the dog raised a fuss, the owner saw and heard what was going on, took a yardstick and ran out to the madman and didn’t leave a whole bone in his body. With every thwack he said: “You dog of a thief! My pointer? Didn’t you see, you cruel creature, that my dog is a pointer?” And he repeated the word POINTER many times, and sent the madman away beaten up. The madman learned a lesson from this, and he didn’t go to the plaza for more than a month, but finally returned with his usual game and with a heavier weight. He would go up to a dog, and after examining it carefully, he wouldn’t let the stone fall, saying: “This is a pointer, watch out!” So, every dog he saw, whether they were Great Danes or lapdogs, he said they were pointers, and never let the stone fall again. Perhaps in this way it will happen to this story-teller, that he won’t dare to release the weight of his wit in books that, being bad, are harder than rocks. Tell him as well, regarding the threat he made that he’ll take away my earnings with his book, I couldn’t care less, and I answer, adapting that famous comic skit named La Peredenga:8 “I still have my patron, and peace be unto you.” Long live the Count of Lemos, 9 whose charity and well-known liberality support me, and long live the great charity of His Eminence of 8  This FAMOUS La Peredenga is something of a mystery. Agustín Moreto wrote a comic skit of that name—it means prostitute—that exists in manuscript form, but Moreto was born four years after Cervantes’ death. Martín de Riquer suggests that since Moreto adapted earlier works by others, this could be a play, now lost, that Moreto reworked. Toledo, don Bernardo de Sandoval y Rojas,10 even though there are many more printing presses in the world, and even though they may print more books against me than there are letters in the Couplets of Mingo Revulgo.11 These two princes, without receiving praise or any other kind of flattery from me, have of their own goodness done me a service by which I consider myself more fortunate and richer than if Fortune itself had taken me to its summit. Honor is possible for the poor person, but not for the wicked—being poor can cloud nobility, but not obscure it completely. Virtue emanates light, even though it might be through straits and cracks of poverty, which comes to be valued by high and noble spirits, and consequently favored by them. And don’t tell him anything else, nor do I want to tell you anything else, except to advise you that you should consider this Second Part of don Quixote that I present to you as cut by the same creator and from the same material as the first, and in it I give you don Quixote at greater length and finally dead and buried, so that no one else can dare relate new stories about him since those already told are enough. And it’s enough that an honorable man has related the stories of these witty follies without going into the matter again, for too much of a good thing makes one not value it as much and a scarcity—even of bad things—earns some esteem. I forgot to tell you to expect the Persiles soon and that I’m finishing the s e c o n d p a r t o f Galatea.12 9  This Count of Lemos, the seventh one, was don Pedro Fernández Ruiz de Castro y Osorio (1576-1622), viceroy of Naples from 1610 to 1622. Cervantes also dedicated his Eight Plays and Eight Skits (1615) and his Persiles and Sigismunda (1616) to this same person. 10  Bernardo de Sandoval y Rojas, as archbishop of Toledo, aided Cervantes in his old age. 11  The Couplets de Mingo Revulgo, written around 1470, is an anonymous satiric poem 32 9-verse stanzas long, each verse containing 8 syllables. The meaning of the phrase beginning with even though there are many more printing presses... is obscure, at least to me and other translators. It seems to say that no matter how many books are published against him, Cervantes will still be protected by these two men. If LETTERS refers to letters of the alphabet, you’ll have to count them to see how many books Cervantes is referring to. If it means stanzas, which it can, then he is not afraid of 32 books against him. 12  The Persiles was finally published posthumously in 1616. Cervantes finished it just four days before his death, and even in the prologue to that book—one day after FIRST CHAPTER About the conversation the priest and barber had with don Quixote concerning his illness. CIDE HAMETE Benengeli relates in the second part of this history, and third expedition of don Quixote, that the priest and barber refrained from visiting don Quixote for almost a month, so as not to remind him about and bring to his memory things from the past. But that doesn’t mean they didn’t visit the niece and housekeeper, urging them to pamper him and give him things to eat to fortify him, and that were also right for his heart and brain, from where issued—so it seemed—all of his bad fortune. They told him they were doing just that, and would continue to do so with good will and care, because they saw that their master at times seemed to be completely sane, which made the two men very happy, causing them to feel they were right to bring him home enchanted in the oxcart, as was related in the last chapter of the first part of this great and factual history. So they finally decided to visit him and judge his recovery for themselves. They thought it was almost impossible that he would have gotten better, thus they agreed not to touch on anything related to knight-errantry, so as not to put him in danger of pulling out the stitches of his wounds, which were very precarious. They visited him and found him seated on his bed, dressed in a green flannel jacket, and with a red Toledan night-cap. He was so dry that he looked like he was a mummy. They were well received by him, and they asked about his health. He told them very rationally and with elegant words how he was doing and the state of his health. During their conversation they happened to talk about politics and goings on in government, amending this abuse and receiving extreme unction from the Church—he said he still hoped to finish La Galatea, a pastoral novel (Part I of which was his first published fiction, 1585). Some people think that the second part of Galatea was lost. I think, given this joking reference to it, that it was never even begun. condemning that one, reforming one custom and getting rid of another, each one of the three of them being transformed into a new legislator, a modern Lycurgus or a brand-new Solon.13 And they so refashioned the republic that it seemed that they had put one into a forge and taken out quite another. And don Quixote spoke so sensibly about everything that the two examiners believed without a doubt that he was completely cured and quite sane. The niece and housekeeper were present during this conversation and they couldn’t thank God enough when they saw their master with such good sense. But the priest, changing his mind about not talking about matters of chivalry, wanted to try an experiment to see if don Quixote’s recovery was in appearance only, or if it was genuine. So he began to relate some news that had come from the capital, where it was thought to be certain that the Turkish army was approaching with a powerful armada, and they didn’t know what the Turks’ plan was, or where their storm would burst. Almost every year this fear sounded the alarm, and all of Christendom was constantly on the alert, and His Majesty had provided for the defense of Naples, Sicily, and the Island of Malta. To this responded don Quixote: “His Majesty has acted like a very prudent warrior in protecting his dominions in advance so the enemy won’t find him unprepared, but if he’d take my advice, I’d tell him to try something that must be very far from his thoughts.” Hardly had the priest heard this when he said to himself: “May God protect you, poor don Quixote, for it seems that you’re flinging yourself down from the height of your madness into the abyss of your simplicity.” But the barber, who had realized what the priest’s thought was, asked don Quixote what the measure was that he thought would be so useful—it might be put onto the list of irrelevant suggestions that are typically made to princes. “Mine, señor shaver, wouldn’t be irrelevant, but quite to the point.” “I don’t mean it that way,” said the barber, “only that experience has shown that all or most advice given to His Majesty is either impossible or foolish, or is damaging to the king or to the kingdom.” “But mine,” responded don Quixote, “is neither impossible nor foolish, but rather the easiest, most just, and most feasible and direct that any advisor could formulate.” “Your grace seems to be delaying in telling us what it is, señor don Quixote.” 13  Lycurgus (7th century B.C.) was the lawmaker responsible for institutions in ancient Sparta, particularly the military. Solon (630-560 B.C.) was an Athenian statesman, one of the Seven Wise Men of Greece, who introduced a more humane law code and ended aristocratic control of the government. “I wouldn’t want,” said don Quixote, “to tell you this here and now, and tomorrow morning have it in the ears of the king’s advisors, for which someone else would get the thanks and credit for my labor.” “As for me,” said the barber, “I pledge my word in the presence of God, not to reveal to king or rook, or any other living man what your grace may say—an oath that I learned from the “Ballad of the Priest,” wherein during the introit to the mass the priest was able to reveal to the king about how a thief stole a hundred doubloons and his swift mule from him.”14 “I don’t know those stories,” said don Quixote, “but I do know that your oath is good because I know that the señor barber is an honorable man.” “And if he weren’t,” said the priest, “I’ll vouch for him, and he will say no more about the matter than a person who lacks the ability to speak, or he’ll have to pay any judgment against him.” “And your grace, who will vouch for you?” said don Quixote. “My profession,” responded the priest, “which is to keep secrets.” “By God,” said don Quixote, “what else should His Majesty do but have a public crier summon all the knights errant roaming all over Spain to meet in the capital on a certain day? And even though only half a dozen of them come, there might be one of them who would be able to destroy the power of the Turk single-handedly. Listen carefully and follow along. By chance is it unheard of for a single knight errant to destroy an army of two-hundredthousand men, as if they all had one single throat or if they were made of almond paste? Tell me, how many histories are filled with these wonders? It would be to my misfortune and no one else’s if the famous don Belianís de Grecia, or any other of the countless men from Amadís de Gaula’s innumerable lineage were living today! For if any one of these came and confronted the Turk, I swear I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes. But God will look out for his people and will send one who, if not as fierce as the previous knights, at least won’t be inferior in his courage. God understands me and I say no more!” “Ay!” said the niece at this point. “May they kill me if my master doesn’t want to be a knight errant once again!” To which don Quixote said: “A knight errant I’ll die! Let the Turk come or go whenever he wants, and with whatever strength he can muster—once again I say that God understands me.” 14  This “Ballad of the Priest” is discussed at length in Rodríguez Marín’s Atlas edition of the Quixote (1949), vol. IX, pp. 280-95. In this Valencian story, a priest is robbed on the road of his donkey and his money, the thief admonishing him to tell no one of the robbery. In saying mass later in front of the king, he sees the thief beneath the pulpit and is able to denounce him within the mass itself, and the king had the thief arrested. Sam Armistead says that this ballad is unknown in the modern oral tradition. At this point the barber said: “I beg your grace to permit me to tell a little story about something that happened in Seville, which I’d like to tell you because it seems most pertinent to this case.” Don Quixote gave him permission, and the priest and the others lent an ear, and he began in this way: “In the nuthouse of Seville there was a man whose relatives had put him there because he was crazy. He was a graduate in canon law from the University of Osuna, 15 but even if he’d been graduated by Salamanca, in the opinion of many, he still would have been crazy. This graduate, after some years in confinement, let it be known that he was sane and in his right mind, and with this thought he wrote to the archbishop, begging him earnestly, with well-chosen words, to be taken out of the misery in which he was living, since by the compassion of God he’d recovered his lost sanity; but his relatives, in order to hold onto and keep using his income, insisted that he stay there, and in spite of the truth, wanted him to stay crazy until he died. “The archbishop, persuaded by the many coherent and sensible letters, sent one of his chaplains to find out from the superintendent of the crazy house if it was true what the licenciado had written, and also to speak with the crazy man. If it seemed to him he was sane, he could take him out and set him free. The chaplain went, and the superintendent maintained that he was still crazy. Although much of the time he spoke like a person with great intelligence, he finally would hurl a lot of nonsense that rivaled his previous good sense both in quality and quantity, as the chaplain could find out for himself by speaking with him. The chaplain wanted to, and the superintendent took him to the crazy man. The chaplain spoke with him for an hour or mo...
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