asserts it, or perceives and discerns it. If a thing is beautiful it must likewise be lovely, and nothing can be odious without being detestable too; though as a rule adjectives are seldom used but in the superlative degree. Everything is said with as much circumlocution and rodomontade as possible, as if the lavish expenditure of words were the great object. And yet, following immediately upon these tawdry artificial productions, we have the charming little episode of Don Luis and Dona Clara, as if Cervantes wished to show that when he chose he could write a love story in a simple, natural style.
The latter portion of the First Part is, in short, almost all episodes and digressions; no sooner are the tales disposed of, than we have the long criticism on the chivalry romances and the drama, interesting and valuable no doubt, but still just as much out of place, and that is followed by the goat-herd's somewhat pointless story.
By the time Cervantes had got his volume of novels off his hands, and summoned up resolution enough to set about the Second Part in earnest, the case was very much altered. Don Quixote and Sancho Panza had not merely found favor, but had already become, what they have never since ceased to be, veritable entities to the popular imagination. There was no occasion for him now to interpolate extraneous matter; nay, his readers told him plainly that what they wanted of him was more Don Quixote and more Sancho Panza, and not novels, tales, or digressions. To himself, too, his creations had become realities, and he had become proud of them, especially of Sancho. He began the Second Part, therefore, under very different conditions, and the difference makes itself manifest at once. Even in translation the style will be seen to be far easier, more flowing, more natural, and more like that of a man sure of himself and of his audience. Don Quixote and Sancho undergo a change also. In the First Part, Don Quixote has no character or individuality whatever. He is nothing more than a crazy representative of the sentiments of the chivalry romances. In all that he says and does he is simply repeating the lesson he has learned from his books; and therefore, as Hallam with perfect justice maintains, it is absurd to speak of him in the gushing strain of the sentimental critics when they dilate upon his nobleness, disinterestedness, dauntless courage, and so forth. It was the business of a knight-errant to right wrongs, redress injuries, and succor the
