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The Exemplary Novels of Cervantes by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

M >> Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra >> The Exemplary Novels of Cervantes



BOHN'S STANDARD LIBRARY.




THE EXEMPLARY NOVELS

OF

CERVANTES.





THE
EXEMPLARY NOVELS

OF

MIGUEL DE CERVANTES SAAVEDRA.



TRANSLATED FROM THE SPANISH

BY

WALTER K. KELLY.



LONDON: GEORGE BELL AND SONS, YORK STREET,
COVENT GARDEN.
1881.



LONDON:
PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.





PREFACE.


It seems to be generally admitted that in rendering the title of a book
from one language into another, the form of the original should be
retained, even at the cost of some deviation from ordinary usage.
Cicero's work _De Officiis_ is never spoken of as a treatise on Moral
Duties, but as Cicero's Offices. Upon the same principle we have not
entitled the following collection of tales, Instructive or Moral; though
it is in this sense that the author applied to them the epithet
_exemplares_, as he states distinctly in his preface. The Spanish word
_exemplo_, from the time of the archpriest of Hita and Don Juan Manuel,
has had the meaning of _instruction_, or _instructive story_.

The "Novelas Exemplares" were first published in 1613, three years
before the death of Cervantes. They are all original, and have the air
of being drawn from his personal experience and observation. Ticknor, in
his "History of Spanish Literature," says of them, and of the
"Impertinent Curiosity," inserted in the first part of Don Quixote:--

"Their value is different, for they are written with different views,
and in a variety of style greater than he has elsewhere shown; but most
of them contain touches of what is peculiar in his talent, and are full
of that rich eloquence and of those pleasing descriptions of natural
scenery which always flow so easily from his pen. They have little in
common with the graceful story-telling spirit of Boccaccio and his
followers, and still less with the strictly practical tone of Don Juan
Manuel's tales; nor, on the other hand, do they approach, except in the
case of the 'Impertinent Curiosity,' the class of short novels which
have been frequent in other countries within the last century. The more,
therefore, we examine them, the more we shall find that they are
original in their composition and general tone, and that they are
strongly marked with the original genius of their author, as well as
with the more peculiar traits of the national character,--the ground, no
doubt, on which they have always been favourites at home, and less
valued than they deserve to be abroad. As works of invention, they rank,
among their author's productions, next after Don Quixote; in correctness
and grace of style they stand before it.... They are all fresh from the
racy soil of the national character, as that character is found in
Andalusia, and are written with an idiomatic richness, a spirit, and a
grace, which, though they are the oldest tales of their class in Spain,
have left them ever since without successful rivals."

The first three tales in this volume have merely undergone the revision
of the editor, having been translated by another before he was engaged
on the work. For the rest he alone is responsible.

W.K.K.




DEDICATION

TO DON PEDRO FERNANDEZ DE CASTRO, COUNT OF LEMOS, ANDRADE, AND VILLALBA,
&c.


Those who dedicate their works to some prince commonly fall into two
errors. The first is, that in their dedicatory epistle, which ought to
be brief and succinct, they dilate very complacently, whether moved by
truth or flattery, on the deeds not only of their fathers and
forefathers, but also of all their relations, friends, and benefactors.
The second is, that they tell their patron they place their works under
his protection and safeguard, in order that malicious and captious
tongues may not presume to cavil and carp at them. For myself, shunning
these two faults, I here pass over in silence the grandeur and titles of
your excellency's ancient and royal house, and your infinite virtues
both natural and acquired, leaving it to some new Phidias and Lysippus
to engrave and sculpture them in marble and bronze, that they may rival
time in duration. Neither do I supplicate your Excellency to take this
book under your protection, for I know, that if it is not a good one,
though I should put it under the wings of Astolfo's hippogrif, or
beneath the club of Hercules, the Zoili, the cynics, the Aretinos, and
the bores, will not abstain from abusing it, out of respect for anyone.
I only beg your Excellency to observe that I present to you, without
more words, thirteen tales,[1] which, had they not been wrought in the
laboratory of my own brains, might presume to stand beside the best.
Such as they are, there they go, leaving me here rejoiced at the thought
of manifesting, in some degree, the desire I feel to serve your
Excellency as my true lord and benefactor. Our Lord preserve, &c.

Your Excellency's servant,

MIGUEL DE CERVANTES SAAVEDRA.

MADRID, _13th of July, 1613_.

[1] There are but twelve of them. Possibly when Cervantes wrote this
dedication he intended to include "El Curioso Impertinente," which
occurs in chapters xxxiii.-xxxv. of the first part of "Don Quixote."




AUTHOR'S PREFACE.


I wish it were possible, dear reader, to dispense with writing this
preface; for that which I put at the beginning of my "Don Quixote" did
not turn out so well for me as to give me any inclination to write
another. The fault lies with a friend of mine--one of the many I have
made in the course of my life with my heart rather than my head. This
friend might well have caused my portrait, which the famous Don Juan de
Jauregui would have given him, to be engraved and put in the first page
of this book, according to custom. By that means he would have gratified
my ambition and the wishes of several persons, who would like to know
what sort of face and figure has he who makes bold to come before the
world with so many works of his own invention. My friend might have
written under the portrait--"This person whom you see here, with an oval
visage, chestnut hair, smooth open forehead, lively eyes, a hooked but
well-proportioned nose, & silvery beard that twenty years ago was
golden, large moustaches, a small mouth, teeth not much to speak of, for
he has but six, in bad condition and worse placed, no two of them
corresponding to each other, a figure midway between the two extremes,
neither tall nor short, a vivid complexion, rather fair than dark,
somewhat stooped in the shoulders, and not very lightfooted: this, I
say, is the author of 'Galatea,' 'Don Quixote de la Mancha,' 'The
Journey to Parnassus,' which he wrote in imitation of Cesare Caporali
Perusino, and other works which are current among the public, and
perhaps without the author's name. He is commonly called MIGUEL DE
CERVANTES SAAVEDRA. He was for many years a soldier, and for five years
and a half in captivity, where he learned to have patience in adversity.
He lost his left hand by a musket-shot in the battle of Lepanto: and
ugly as this wound may appear, he regards it as beautiful, having
received it on the most memorable and sublime occasion which past times
have over seen, or future times can hope to equal, fighting under the
victorious banners of the son of that thunderbolt of war, Charles V., of
blessed memory." Should the friend of whom I complain have had nothing
more to say of me than this, I would myself have composed a couple of
dozen of eulogiums, and communicated them to him in secret, thereby to
extend my fame and exalt the credit of my genius; for it would be absurd
to expect the exact truth in such matters. We know well that neither
praise nor abuse is meted out with strict accuracy.

However, since this opportunity is lost, and I am left in the lurch
without a portrait, I must have recourse to my own tongue, which, for
all its stammering, may do well enough to state some truths that are
tolerably self-evident. I assure you then, dear reader, that you can by
no means make a fricassee of these tales which I here present to you,
for they have neither legs, head, bowels, nor anything of the sort; I
mean that the amorous intrigues you will find in some of them, are so
decorous, so measured, and so conformable to reason and Christian
propriety, that they are incapable of exciting any impure thoughts in
him who reads them with or without caution.

I have called them _exemplary_, because if you rightly consider them,
there is not one of them from which you may not draw some useful
example; and were I not afraid of being too prolix, I might show you
what savoury and wholesome fruit might be extracted from them,
collectively and severally.

My intention has been to set up, in the midst of our community, a
billiard-table, at which every one may amuse himself without hurt to
body and soul; for innocent recreations do good rather than harm. One
cannot be always at church, or always saying one's prayers, or always
engaged in one's business, however important it may be; there are hours
for recreation when the wearied mind should take repose. It is to this
end that alleys of trees are planted to walk in, waters are conveyed
from remote fountains, hills are levelled, and gardens are cultivated
with such care. One thing I boldly declare: could I by any means
suppose that these novels could excite any bad thought or desire in
those who read them, I would rather cut off the hand with which I write
them, than give them to the public. I am at an age when it does not
become me to trifle with the life to come, for I am upwards of
sixty-four.

My genius and my inclination prompt me to this kind of writing; the more
so as I consider (and with truth) that I am the first who has written
novels in the Spanish language, though many have hitherto appeared among
us, all of them translated from foreign authors. But these are my own,
neither imitated nor stolen from anyone; my genius has engendered them,
my pen has brought them forth, and they are growing up in the arms of
the press. After them, should my life be spared, I will present to you
the Adventures of Persiles, a book which ventures to compete with
Heliodorus. But previously you shall see, and that before long, the
continuation of the exploits of Don Quixote and the humours of Sancho
Panza; and then the Weeks of the Garden. This is promising largely for
one of my feeble powers; but who can curb his desires? I only beg you to
remark that since I have had the boldness to address these novels to the
great Count of Lemos, they must contain some hidden mystery which exalts
their merit.

I have no more to say, so pray God to keep you, and give me patience to
bear all the ill that will be spoken of me by more than one subtle and
starched critic. _Vale_.




CONTENTS.

PAGE

THE LADY CORNELIA 1

RINCONETE AND CORTADILLO; OR, PETER OF THE CORNER AND
THE LITTLE CUTTER 42

THE LICENTIATE VIDRIERA; OR, DOCTOR GLASS-CASE 86

THE DECEITFUL MARRIAGE 112

DIALOGUE BETWEEN SCIPIO AND BERGANZA, DOGS OF THE
HOSPITAL OF THE RESURRECTION IN THE CITY OF VALLADOLID,
COMMONLY CALLED THE DOGS OF MAHUDES 124

THE LITTLE GIPSY GIRL 178

THE GENEROUS LOVER 236

THE SPANISH-ENGLISH LADY 278

THE FORCE OF BLOOD 314

THE JEALOUS ESTRAMADURAN 331

THE ILLUSTRIOUS SCULLERY-MAID 365

THE TWO DAMSELS 410





THE LADY CORNELIA.


Don Antonio de Isunza and Don Juan de Gamboa, gentlemen of high birth
and excellent sense, both of the same age, and very intimate friends,
being students together at Salamanca, determined to abandon their
studies and proceed to Flanders. To this resolution they were incited by
the fervour of youth, their desire to see the world, and their
conviction that the profession of arms, so becoming to all, is more
particularly suitable to men of illustrious race.

But they did not reach Flanders until peace was restored, or at least on
the point of being concluded; and at Antwerp they received letters from
their parents, wherein the latter expressed the great displeasure caused
them by their sons having left their studies without informing them of
their intention, which if they had done, the proper measures might have
been taken for their making the journey in a manner befitting their
birth and station.

Unwilling to give further dissatisfaction to their parents, the young
men resolved to return to Spain, the rather as there was now nothing to
be done in Flanders. But before doing so they determined to visit all
the most renowned cities of Italy; and having seen the greater part of
them, they were so much attracted by the noble university of Bologna,
that they resolved to remain there and complete the studies abandoned at
Salamanca.

They imparted their intentions to their parents, who testified their
entire approbation by the magnificence with which they provided their
sons with every thing proper to their rank, to the end that, in their
manner of living, they might show who they were, and of what house they
were born. From the first day, therefore, that the young men visited the
schools, all perceived them to be gallant, sensible, and well-bred
gentlemen.

Don Antonio was at this time in his twenty-fourth year, and Don Juan had
not passed his twenty-sixth. This fair period of life they adorned by
various good qualities; they were handsome, brave, of good address, and
well versed in music and poetry; in a word, they were endowed with such
advantages as caused them to be much sought and greatly beloved by all
who knew them. They soon had numerous friends, not only among the many
Spaniards belonging to the university,[2] but also among people of the
city, and of other nations, to all of whom they proved themselves
courteous, liberal, and wholly free from that arrogance which is said to
be too often exhibited by Spaniards.

[2] Cardinal Albornoz founded a college in the university of Bologna,
expressly for the Spaniards, his countrymen.

Being young, and of joyous temperament, Don Juan and Don Antonio did not
fail to give their attention to the beauties of the city. Many there
were indeed in Bologna, both married and unmarried, remarkable as well
for their virtues as their charms; but among them all there was none who
surpassed the Signora Cornelia Bentivoglia, of that old and illustrious
family of the Bentivogli, who were at one time lords of Bologna.

Cornelia was beautiful to a marvel; she had been left under the
guardianship of her brother Lorenzo Bentivoglio, a brave and honourable
gentleman. They were orphans, but inheritors of considerable wealth--and
wealth is a great alleviation of the evils of the orphan state. Cornelia
lived in complete seclusion, and her brother guarded her with unwearied
solicitude. The lady neither showed herself on any occasion, nor would
her brother consent that any one should see her; but this very fact
inspired Don Juan and Don Antonio with the most lively desire to behold
her face, were it only at church. Yet all the pains they took for that
purpose proved vain, and the wishes they had felt on the subject
gradually diminished, as the attempt appeared more and more hopeless.
Thus, devoted to their studies, and varying these with such amusements
as are permitted to their age, the young men passed a life as cheerful
as it was honourable, rarely going out at night, but when they did so,
it was always together and well armed.

One evening, however, when Don Juan was preparing to go out, Don
Antonio expressed his desire to remain at home for a short time, to
repeat certain orisons: but he requested Don Juan to go without him, and
promised to follow him.

"Why should I go out to wait for you?" said Don Juan. "I will stay; if
you do not go out at all to-night, it will be of very little
consequence." "By no means shall you stay," returned Don Antonio: "go
and take the air; I will be with you almost immediately, if you take the
usual way."

"Well, do as you please," said Don Juan: "if you come you will find me
on our usual beat." With these words Don Juan left the house.

The night was dark, and the hour about eleven. Don Juan passed through
two or three streets, but finding himself alone, and with no one to
speak to, he determined to return home. He began to retrace his steps
accordingly; and was passing through a street, the houses of which had
marble porticoes, when he heard some one call out, "Hist! hist!" from
one of the doors. The darkness of the night, and the shadow cast by the
colonnade, did not permit him to see the whisperer; but he stopped at
once, and listened attentively. He saw a door partially opened,
approached it, and heard these words uttered in a low voice, "Is it you,
Fabio?" Don Juan, on the spur of the moment, replied, "Yes!" "Take it,
then," returned the voice, "take it, and place it in security; but
return instantly, for the matter presses." Don Juan put out his hand in
the dark, and encountered a packet. Proceeding to take hold of it, he
found that it required both hands; instinctively he extended the second,
but had scarcely done so before the portal was closed, and he found
himself again alone in the street, loaded with, he knew not what.

Presently the cry of an infant, and, as it seemed, but newly born, smote
his ears, filling him with confusion and amazement, for he knew not what
next to do, or how to proceed in so strange a case. If he knocked at the
door he was almost certain to endanger the mother of the infant; and if
he left his burthen there, he must imperil the life of the babe itself.
But if he took it home he should as little know what to do with it, nor
was he acquainted with any one in the city to whom he could entrust the
care of the child; yet remembering that he had been required to come
back quickly, after placing his charge in safety, he determined to take
the infant home, leave it in the hands of his old housekeeper, and
return to see if his aid was needed in any way, since he perceived
clearly that the person who had been expected to come for the child had
not arrived, and the latter had been given to himself in mistake. With
this determination, Don Juan soon reached his home; but found that
Antonio had already left it. He then went to his chamber, and calling
the housekeeper, uncovered the infant, which was one of the most
beautiful ever seen; whilst, as the good woman remarked, the elegance of
the clothes in which the little creature was wrapped, proved him--for it
was a boy--to be the son of rich parents.

"You must, now," said Don Juan to his housekeeper, "find some one to
nurse this infant; but first of all take away these rich coverings, and
put on him others of the plainest kind. Having done that, you must carry
the babe, without a moment's delay, to the house of a midwife, for there
it is that you will be most likely to find all that is requisite in such
a case. Take money to pay what may be needful, and give the child such
parents as you please, for I desire to hide the truth, and not let the
manner in which I became possessed of it be known." The woman promised
that she would obey him in every point; and Don Juan returned in all
haste to the street, to see whether he should receive another mysterious
call. But just before he arrived at the house whence the infant had been
delivered to him, the clash of swords struck his ear, the sound being as
that of several persons engaged in strife. He listened carefully, but
could hear no word; the combat was carried on in total silence; but the
sparks cast up by the swords as they struck against the stones, enabled
him to perceive that one man was defending himself against several
assailants; and he was confirmed in this belief by an exclamation which
proceeded at length from the last person attacked. "Ah, traitors! you
are many and I am but one, yet your baseness shall not avail you."

Hearing and seeing this, Don Juan, listening only to the impulses of his
brave heart, sprang to the side of the person assailed, and opposing the
buckler he carried on his arm to the swords of the adversaries, drew his
own, and speaking in Italian that he might not be known as a Spaniard,
he said--"Fear not, Signor, help has arrived that will not fail you
while life holds; lay on well, for traitors are worth but little however
many there may be." To this, one of the assailants made answer--"You
lie; there are no traitors here. He who seeks to recover his lost honour
is no traitor, and is permitted to avail himself of every advantage."

No more was said on either side, for the impetuosity of the assailants,
who, as Don Juan thought, amounted to not less than six, left no
opportunity for further words. They pressed his companion, meanwhile,
very closely; and two of them giving him each a thrust at the same time
with the point of their swords, he fell to the earth. Don Juan believed
they had killed him; he threw himself upon the adversaries,
nevertheless, and with a shower of cuts and thrusts, dealt with
extraordinary rapidity, caused them to give way for several paces. But
all his efforts must needs have been vain for the defence of the fallen
man, had not Fortune aided him, by making the neighbours come with
lights to their windows and shout for the watch, whereupon the
assailants ran off and left the street clear.

The fallen man was meanwhile beginning to move; for the strokes he had
received, having encountered a breastplate as hard as adamant, had only
stunned, but not wounded him.

Now, Don Juan's hat had been knocked off in the fray, and thinking he
had picked it up, he had in fact put on that of another person, without
perceiving it to be other than his own. The gentleman whom he had
assisted now approached Don Juan, and accosted him as follows:--"Signor
Cavalier, whoever you may be, I confess that I owe you my life, and I am
bound to employ it, with all I have or can command, in your service: do
me the favour to tell me who you are, that I may know to whom my
gratitude is due."

"Signor," replied Don Juan, "that I may not seem discourteous, and in
compliance with your request, although I am wholly disinterested in what
I have done, you shall know that I am a Spanish gentleman, and a student
in this city; if you desire to hear my name I will tell you, rather lest
you should have some future occasion for my services than for any other
motive, that I am called Don Juan de Gamboa."

"You have done me a singular service, Signor Don Juan de Gamboa,"
replied the gentleman who had fallen, "but I will not tell you who I am,
nor my name, which I desire that you should learn from others rather
than from myself; yet I will take care that you be soon informed
respecting these things."

Don Juan then inquired of the stranger if he were wounded, observing,
that he had seen him receive two furious lunges in the breast; but the
other replied that he was unhurt; adding, that next to God, a famous
plastron that he wore had defended him against the blows he had
received, though his enemies would certainly have finished him had Don
Juan not come to his aid.

While thus discoursing, they beheld a body of men advancing towards
them; and Don Juan exclaimed--"If these are enemies, Signor, let us
hasten to put ourselves on our guard, and use our hands as men of our
condition should do."

"They are not enemies, so far as I can judge," replied the stranger.
"The men who are now coming towards us are friends."

And this was the truth; the persons approaching, of whom there were
eight, surrounded the unknown cavalier, with whom they exchanged a few
words, but in so low a tone that Don Juan could not hear the purport.
The gentleman then turned to Don Juan and said--"If these friends had
not arrived I should certainly not have left your company, Signor Don
Juan, until you had seen me in some place of safety; but as things are,
I beg you now, with all kindness, to retire and leave me in this place,
where it is of great importance that I should remain." Speaking thus,
the stranger carried his hand to his head, but finding that he was
without a hat, he turned towards the persons who had joined him,
desiring them to give him one, and saying that his own had fallen. He
had no sooner spoken than Don Juan presented him with that which he had
himself just picked up, and which he had discovered to be not his own.
The stranger having felt the hat, returned it to Don Juan, saying that
it was not his, and adding, "On your life, Signor Don Juan, keep this
hat as a trophy of this affray, for I believe it to be one that is not
unknown."

The persons around then gave the stranger another hat, and Don Juan,
after exchanging a few brief compliments with his companion, left him,
in compliance with his desire, without knowing who he was: he then
returned home, not daring at that moment to approach the door whence he
had received the newly-born infant, because the whole neighbourhood had
been aroused, and was in movement.

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