Don Quixote - Part I - Page 23/400

To England belongs the credit of having been the first country to

recognise the right of "Don Quixote" to better treatment than this. The

London edition of 1738, commonly called Lord Carteret's from having been

suggested by him, was not a mere edition de luxe. It produced "Don

Quixote" in becoming form as regards paper and type, and embellished with

plates which, if not particularly happy as illustrations, were at least

well intentioned and well executed, but it also aimed at correctness of

text, a matter to which nobody except the editors of the Valencia and

Brussels editions had given even a passing thought; and for a first

attempt it was fairly successful, for though some of its emendations are

inadmissible, a good many of them have been adopted by all subsequent

editors.

The zeal of publishers, editors, and annotators brought about a

remarkable change of sentiment with regard to "Don Quixote." A vast

number of its admirers began to grow ashamed of laughing over it. It

became almost a crime to treat it as a humorous book. The humour was not

entirely denied, but, according to the new view, it was rated as an

altogether secondary quality, a mere accessory, nothing more than the

stalking-horse under the presentation of which Cervantes shot his

philosophy or his satire, or whatever it was he meant to shoot; for on

this point opinions varied. All were agreed, however, that the object he

aimed at was not the books of chivalry. He said emphatically in the

preface to the First Part and in the last sentence of the Second, that he

had no other object in view than to discredit these books, and this, to

advanced criticism, made it clear that his object must have been

something else.

One theory was that the book was a kind of allegory, setting forth the

eternal struggle between the ideal and the real, between the spirit of

poetry and the spirit of prose; and perhaps German philosophy never

evolved a more ungainly or unlikely camel out of the depths of its inner

consciousness. Something of the antagonism, no doubt, is to be found in

"Don Quixote," because it is to be found everywhere in life, and

Cervantes drew from life. It is difficult to imagine a community in which

the never-ceasing game of cross-purposes between Sancho Panza and Don

Quixote would not be recognized as true to nature. In the stone age,

among the lake dwellers, among the cave men, there were Don Quixotes and

Sancho Panzas; there must have been the troglodyte who never could see

the facts before his eyes, and the troglodyte who could see nothing else.

But to suppose Cervantes deliberately setting himself to expound any such

idea in two stout quarto volumes is to suppose something not only very

unlike the age in which he lived, but altogether unlike Cervantes

himself, who would have been the first to laugh at an attempt of the sort

made by anyone else.