sess a lively relish for the adventures of Don Quixote. It is not to be doubted, however, that a considerable portion of the pleasure which we feel in the perusal of Don Quixote, is derived from the delineation of the scenery with which it abounds—the magnificent sierras-romantic streams and delightful vallies of a land which seems as it were the peculiar region of romance, from Cordoba to Roncesvalles. There is also in the work a happy mixture of the stories and names of the Moors, a people who, in a wonderful degree, impress the imagination and affect the heart, in consequence of their grandeur, gallantry and misfortunes; and partly, perhaps, from the many plaintive ballads in which their achievements und fate are recorded." It has been apparently the object of this edition to render all these allusions of which this intelligent critic speaks, intelligible; and we, in so far as a hasty perusal goes, are of opinion that its object has been completely accomplished. The text used is that of MOTTEUX, and this is, we think, out of all sight, the richest and best-although the editor himself seems to hint, now and then, something not unlike a partiality for the much older version of Shelton. Shelton's Quixote is undoubtedly well worthy of being studied by the English scholar; but it is far too antiquated an affair to serve the purposes of the English reader. That of Motteux is, if not so literally accurate, quite as essentially and substantially so; and Motteux, the translator of Cervantes and Rabelais, possesses a native humour which no other translator that we ever met with has approached. It is only by extracts that we can hope to give any idea of the manner in which the present edition has been executed; and, therefore, we shall quote a few specimens without further preamble. The first volume contains an Es on Cervantes' Life and Writings, in which the author says :— "Even had Cervantes died without, writing Don Quixote, his plays, (above all, his Interludes and his Numancia ;) his Galatea, the beautiful dream of his youth; his Persiles, the last effort of his chastened and purified taste; and his fine poem of the Voyage of Parnassus, must have given him at least the second place in the most productive age of Spanish genius. In regard to all the graces of Castilian composition, even these must have left him without a rival, either in that, or any other age of the literature of his country. "Mr. Spence, the author of a late ingenious tour in Spain, seems to believe, what I should have supposed was entirely exploded, that Cervantes wrote his books for the purpose of ridiculing knight-errantry; and that, unfortunately for his country, his satire put out of fashion, not merely the absurd misdirection of the spirit of heroism, but that sacred spirit itself. But the practice of knight-errantry, if ever there was such a thing, had, it is well known, been out of date long before the age in which Don Quixote appeared; and as for the spirit of heroism, I think few will sympathize with the critic who deems it possible that an individual, to say nothing of a nation, should have imbibed any contempt, either for that or any other elevating principle of our nature, from the manly page of Cervantes. One of the greatest triumphs of his skill is the success with which he continually prevents us from confounding the absurdities of the knighterrant with the generous aspirations of the cavalier. For the last, even in the midst of madness, we respect Don Quixote himself. We pity the delusion, we laugh at the situation, but we revere, in spite of every ludicrous accompaniment, and of every insane exertion, the noble spirit of the Castillian gentleman. "In the Notes appended to these volumes, an attempt has been made to furnish a complete explanation of the numerous historical allusions in Don Quixote, as well as of the particular traits in romantic writing, which it was Cervantes' purpose to ridicule in the person of his hero. Without having access to such information as has now been thrown together, it may be doubted whether any English reader has ever been able thoroughly to seize and command the meaning of Cervantes throughout his inimitable fiction." We shall now proceed to give a few specimens of the notes appended to these volumes. They are very copious; commonly as much as 40 or 50 closely printed pages to each of the 5 volumes of which the edition consists. The name of BERNARD DE CARPIO, appears continually in the text of Don Quixote; but, except the satisfactory nota bene, given at the foot of one page, viz. "This was an old Spanish Captain, much renowned in their ballads and chronicles," no attempt had ever been made to introduce the English reader into any acquaintance with him. Among these notes,we find a great many curious particulars concerning him, collected from chronicles and balWe shall quote part of the first note in which he is mentioned. lads. lovers: but King Alphonso, who was well nigh sainted for living only in platonic unscandal greatly to heart. He shut the pecion with his own wife Bertha, took the cant princess up in a cloister, and imprisoned her gallant in the Castle of Luna, where he caused him to be deprived of sight. Fortunately, his wrath did not ex tend to the offspring of their stolen affections, the famous Bernardo del Carpio. When the youth had grown up to manhood, Alphonso, according to the Spanish historians, invited the Emperor Charlemagne into Spain, and having neglected to raise up heirs for the kingdom of the Goths in the ordinary manner, he proposed the inheritance of his throne as the price of the alliance of Charles. But the nobility, strated against the king's choice of a sucheaded by Bernardo del Carpio, remoncessor, and would on no account consent to receive a Frenchman as heir of their crown. Alphonso himself repented of the and when that champion of Christendom invitation he had given to Charlamagne, came to expel the Moors from Spain, he found the conscientious and chaste Alphonso had united with the infidels against him. An engagement took place in the renowned pass of Roncesvalles, in which the French were defeated, and the celebrated Roland, or Orlando, was slain. The victory was ascribed chiefly to the prowess of Bernardo del Carpio. "In several of the old ballads, which record the real or imaginary feats of Bernardo, his royal uncle is represented as having shewn but little gratitude for the great champion's services, in the campaign against Charlemagne. It appears that the king had not relented in favour of Don Sancho, although he had come under some promise of that sort to his son, at the period when his (the son's) services were most necessary. The following is a translation of one of the oldest of the Spanish ballads in which this part of Carpio's story is told: BERNARDO AND ALPHONSO. "With some good ten of his chosen men, Bernardo hath appear'd A curse upon thee, cries the King, who comest unbid to me; < Whoever told this tale the King hath rashness to repeat,' 'The blood that I like water shed, when Roland did advance, 'Your horse was down-your hope was flown-ye saw the faulchion shine, That soon had drunk your royal blood, had I not ventured mine; But memory soon of service done deserteth the ingrate, And ye've thank'd the son for life and crown by the father's bloody fate. 'Ye swore upon your kingly faith, to set Don Sancho free, But curse upon your paltring breath, the light he ne'er did see; The King that swerveth from his word hath stain'd his purple black, ‹ Seize-seize him '--loud the King doth scream- There are a thousand here— He drew the faulchion from the sheath, and held it up on high, Ha! Bernard,' quoth Alphonso, 'what means this warlike guise? Concerning THE CID,-Count Fernan Gonsalez of Castile,-Pedro the Cruel-the Infanta Oracca-the Moor Abindarraez-the Admiral Guarinos -Calainos the Moor-" The Great Captain"-and, in short, concerning the almost innumerable personages of Spanish history or romance, whose deeds are alluded to, and the ballads about them quoted by Don Quixote we find notes in the same sort of style and fulness. The imitations or parodies of Amadis, Belianiss, &c. are always pointed out in a manner equally satisfactory-thus: "Amadis retiring from his disdainful Oriana, to do penance on the poor rock.-This is one of the most beautifully told of all the adventures of Amadis. The penitence of Don Quixote is one of the principal points of his imitation of Amadis-and the imitation is carried as close as is consistent with the general purposes of Cervantes. Amaris had just finished the conquest of the Firm Island-an enchanted region, seven leagues long by five broad, which was called Insola, or Insula, because it was almost surrounded by the sea, and Firma Insula, by reason of an isthmus connecting it with the Mainland. From this he departed for the court of Sobradisa, the sovereignty of which country was then in he that hast wounded me vein both of music and poetry in the sequel when he sings to the guitar a canzonet of his own composition, for the purpose of being overheard by Altesidora, the duchess' maid. The deliverance of the Don from his afflictions on the Sierra Morena is also copied from Amadis, in whose history the Damsell of Denmark plays a part, not unlike that which is devised for the fair Dorothea in this book of Don Quixote. Even after all that Mr. Southey and Mr. Frere have done, every thing about the CID is delightful, so we shall give one of the many ballads concerning him as translated in this edition. The story of it is evidently a very apocryphal one; but that is no great matter. Don Quixote quotes it as gravely as it were gospel. THE EXCOMMUNICATION OF THE CID. "It was when from Spain across the main the Cid had come to Rome, The Pope he sitteth above them all, that they may kiss his toe, Ha!' quoth the Cid, 'now God forbid! it is a shame, I wiss, The Pope's own seat he from his feet did kick it far away, Now when the Pope was aware of this, he was an angry man, I wot when the Cid was aware of this, a woeful man was he, Absolve my soul, and penance I for my sin will dree.' Who is this sinner,' quoth the Pope, that at my foot doth kneel?' I am Rodrigo Diaz, a poor Baron of Castille.' Much marvell'd all were in the hall, when that name they heard him say, "I do thy guilt away,' he said,' and my curse I blot it out; I trow if I had known thee, my grief it had been sore, The following is of a different class. "Castille had a Count Fernan Gonsalez, Valentia, a Cid, &c.-The story of Fernan Gonsalez is detailed in the Chronica Antiqua de Espana, with so many romantic circumstances, that certain modern critics have been inclined to consider it as entirely fabulous. Of the main facts recorded, there seems, however, to be no good reason to doubt; and it is quite certain, that, from the earliest times, the name of Fernan Gonsalez has been held in the highest honour by the Spaniards themselves, of every degree. He lived at the beginning of the 10th • The arms of Castile. century. It was under his rule, according to the chronicles, that Castille first became a powerful and independent state, and it was by his exertions that the first foundations were laid of that system of warfare, by which the Moorish power in Spain was at last overthrown. He was so fortunate as to have a wife as heroic as himself,and both in the chronicles and in the ballads abundant justice is done to her merits. She twice rescued Fernan Gonsalez from confinement, at the risk of her own life. He had asked her hand in marriage of her father, Garcias, King of Navarre, and had proceeded so far on his way to that prince's court, when he The arms of France. was seized and cast into a dungeon, in consequence of the machinations of his enemy the Amazonian Queen of Leon, sister to the King of Navarre.-Sancha, the young princess, whose alliance he had solicited, being informed of the cause of his journey, and of the sufferings to which it had exposed him, determined, at all hazards, to ef fect his liberation; and having done so by bribing his jailor, she accompanied his flight to Castille. Many years after, he fell into an ambush prepared for him by the same implacable enemy, and was again a fast prisoner in Leon. His countess, feigning a pilgrimage to St. James of Compostello, obtained leave, in the first place, to pass through the hostile territory, and af terwards, in the course of her progress, permission to pass one night in the castle where her husband was confined. She exchanged clothes with him; and he was so fortunate as to pass in his disguise through the guards who attended on him-his courageous wife remaining in his place—exact ly in the same manner in which the Countess of Nithsdale effected the escape of her lord from the tower of London, on the 23d, of February, 1715. There is, as might be supposed, a whole body of old ballads, concerning the adventures of Fernan Gonsalez. I shall, as a specimen, translate one of the shortest of these-that in which the first of his romantic escapes is described. COUNT FERNAN Gonsalez. They have carried afar into Navarre the great Count of Castille, To the rescue! to the rescue, ho! they have ta'en Fernan Gonsalez.' A noble knight of Normandy was riding through Navarre, These bezaunts fair with thee I'll share, so I this lord may see.' The Alcayde was full joyful, he took the gold full soon, The Moors may well be joyful, but great should be our grief, Gonsalez loves thee, lady, he loved thee long ago, But little is the kindness that for his love you show; The curse that lies on Cava's head, it may be shared by thee; Arise, let love with love be paid, and set Gonsalez free. The lady answer'd little, but at the mirk of night, When all her maids are sleeping, she hath risen and ta'en her flight; She hath tempted the Alcayde with her jewels and her gold, And unto her his prisoner that jailor false hath sold. She took Gonsalez by the hand at the dawning of the day, She said, Upon the heath you stand, before you lies your way; But if I to my father go, alas! what must I do? My father will be angry—I fain would go with you,' He hath kissed the Infanta, he hath kiss'd her, brow and cheek, And lovingly together the forest path they seek; Till in the greenwood hunting they met a lordly priest, With his bugle at his girdle, and his hawk upon his wrist. Now stop! now stop!' the priest he said, (he knew them both right well,) 'Now stop and pay your ransom, or I your flight will tell ; Now stop, thou fair Infanta, for if my words you scorn, I'll give warning to the foresters with the blowing of my horn.' * |