This reasoning, however, does not seem conclusive; for the only reference to the subject in the preface is as follows: ‘What could my sterile and uncultivated genius produce but the history of a child, meagre, adust, and whimsical, full of various wild imaginations never thought of before; like one you may suppose born in a prison, where every inconvenience keeps its residence, and every dismal sound its habitation?’
We took up our quarters in the little town at the ‘Posada de la Mina.’ While our olla was being prepared; we asked the hostess whether she had ever heard of the celebrated Don Miguel de Cervantes, who had been imprisoned there? (I will quote Cayley).
‘No, Señores; I think I have heard of one Cervantes, but he does not live here at present.’
‘Do you know anything of Don Quixote?’
‘Oh, yes. He was a great caballero, who lived here some years ago. His house is over the way, on the other side of the plaza, with the arms over the door. The father of the Alcalde is the oldest man in the pueblo; perhaps he may remember him.’
We were amused at his hero’s fame outliving that of the author. But is it not so with others—the writers of the Book of Job, of the Pentateuch, and perhaps, too, of the ‘Iliad,’ if not of the ‘Odyssey’?
But, to let Cayley speak:
‘While we were undressing to go to bed, three gentlemen were announced and shown in. We begged them to be seated. . . . We sat opposite on the ends of our respective beds to hear what they might have to communicate. A venerable old man opened the conference.
‘“We have understood, gentlemen, that you have come hither seeking for information respecting the famous Don Quixote, and we have come to give you such information as we may; but, perhaps you will understand me better if I speak in Latin.”
‘“We have learnt the Latin at our schools, but are more accustomed to converse in Castilian; pray proceed.”