“And now, knowing that I cannot hinder the books I have made from being copied many times, and seeing that in copies one thing is put for another, either because he who copies is ignorant, or because one word looks so much like another, and so the meaning and sense are changed without any fault in him who first wrote it; therefore, I, Don John Manuel, to avoid this wrong as much as I may, have caused this volume to be made, in which are written out all the works I have composed, and they are twelve.”
Of the twelve works here referred to, the Madrid manuscript contains only three. One is a long letter to his brother, the Archbishop of Toledo, and Chancellor of the kingdom, in which he gives, first, an account of his family arms; then the reason why he and his right heirs male could make knights without having received any order of knighthood, as he himself had done when he was not yet two years old; and lastly, the report of a solemn conversation he had held with Sancho the Fourth on his death-bed, in which the king bemoaned himself bitterly, that, having for his rebellion justly received the curse of his father, Alfonso the Wise, he had now no power to give a dying man’s blessing to Don John.
Another of the works in the Madrid manuscript is a treatise in twenty-six chapters, called “Counsels to his Son Ferdinand”; which is, in fact, an essay on the Christian and moral duties of one destined by his rank to the highest places in the state, referring sometimes to the more ample discussions on similar subjects in Don John’s treatise on the Different Estates or Conditions of Men, apparently a longer work, not now known to exist.
But the third and longest is the most interesting. It is “The Book of the Knight and the Esquire,” “written,” says the author, “in the manner called in Castile fabliella,” (a little fable,) and sent to his brother, the Archbishop, that he might translate it into Latin; a proof, and not the only one, that Don John placed small value upon the language to which he now owes all his honors. The book itself contains an account of a young man who, encouraged by the good condition of his country under a king that called his Cortes together often, and gave his people good teachings and good laws, determines to seek advancement in the state. On his way to a meeting of the Cortes, where he intends to be knighted, he meets a retired cavalier, who in his hermitage explains to him all the duties and honors of chivalry, and thus prepares him for the distinction to which he aspires. On his return, he again visits his aged friend, and is so delighted with his instructions, that he remains with him, ministering to his infirmities and profiting by his wisdom, till his death, after which the young knight goes to his own land, and lives there in great honor the rest of his life. The story, or little fable, is, however, a very slight thread, serving only to hold together a long series of instructions on the moral duties of men, and on the different branches of human knowledge, given with earnestness and spirit, in the fashion of the times.[105]
The “Conde Lucanor,” the best known of its author’s works, bears some resemblance to the fable of the Knight and the Esquire. It is a collection of forty-nine tales,[106] anecdotes, and apologues, clearly in the Oriental manner; the first hint for which was probably taken from the “Disciplina Clericalis” of Petrus Alphonsus, a collection of Latin stories made in Spain about two centuries earlier. The occasion on which the tales of Don John are supposed to be related is, like the fictions themselves, invented with Eastern simplicity, and reminds us constantly of the “Thousand and One Nights,” and their multitudinous imitations.[107]
The Count Lucanor—a personage of power and consideration, intended probably to represent those early Christian counts in Spain, who, like Fernan Gonzalez of Castile, were, in fact, independent princes—finds himself occasionally perplexed with questions of morals and public policy. These questions, as they occur, he proposes to Patronio, his minister or counsellor, and Patronio replies to each by a tale or a fable, which is ended with a rhyme in the nature of a moral. The stories are various in their character.[108] Sometimes it is an anecdote in Spanish history to which Don John resorts, like that of the three knights of his grandfather, Saint Ferdinand, at the siege of Seville.[109] More frequently, it is a sketch of some striking trait in the national manners, like the story of “Rodrigo el Franco and his three Faithful Followers.”[110] Sometimes, again, it is a fiction of chivalry, like that of the “Hermit and Richard the Lion-Hearted.”[111] And sometimes it is an apologue, like that of the “Old Man, his Son, and the Ass,” or that of the “Crow persuaded by the Fox to sing,” which, with his many successors, he must in some way or other have obtained from Æsop.[112] They are all curious, but probably the most interesting is the “Moorish Marriage,” partly because it points distinctly to an Arabic origin, and partly because it remarkably resembles the story Shakspeare has used in his “Taming of the Shrew.”[113] It is, however, too long to be given here; and therefore a shorter specimen will be taken from the twenty-second chapter, entitled “Of what happened to Count Fernan Gonzalez, and of the answer he gave to his vassals.”
“On one occasion, Count Lucanor came from a foray, much wearied and worn, and poorly off; and before he could refresh or rest himself, there came a sudden message about another matter then newly moved. And the greater part of his people counselled him, that he should refresh himself a little, and then do whatever should be thought most wise. And the Count asked Patronio what he should do in that matter; and Patronio replied, ‘Sire, that you may choose what is best, it would please me that you should know the answer which Count Fernan Gonzalez once gave to his vassals.
“‘The story.—Count Fernan Gonzalez conquered Almanzor in Hazinas,[114] but many of his people fell there, and he and the rest that remained alive were sorely wounded. And before they were sound and well, he heard that the king of Navarre had broken into his lands, and so he commanded his people to make ready to fight against them of Navarre. And all his people told him, that their horses were aweary, and that they were aweary themselves; and although for this cause they might not forsake this thing, yet that, since both he and his people were sore wounded, they ought to leave it, and that he ought to wait till he and they should be sound again. And when the Count saw that they all wanted to leave that road, then his honor grieved him more than his body, and he said, “My friends, let us not shun this battle on account of the wounds that we now have; for the fresh wounds they will presently give us will make us forget those we received in the other fight.” And when they of his party saw that he was not troubled concerning his own person, but only how to defend his lands and his honor, they went with him, and they won that battle, and things went right well afterwards.
“‘And you, my Lord Count Lucanor, if you desire to do what you ought, when you see that it should be achieved for the defence of your own rights and of your own people and of your own honor, then you must not be grieved by weariness, nor by toil, nor by danger, but rather so act that the new danger shall make you forget that which is past.’
“And the Count held this for a good history[115] and a good counsel; and he acted accordingly, and found himself well by it. And Don John also understood this to be a good history, and he had it written in this book, and moreover made these verses, which say thus:—