The White Knight: Tirant Lo Blanc | Page 6

of Spain in English Translation. New York: Ungar, 1975.
(9) See the English translation by Lady Goodenough: The Chronicle of
Muntaner. London: Hakluyt Society, 1920-21.
(10) After his initial words of praise ("a treasure of delight, a mine of
entertainment,... the best book in the world"), Cervantes adds this

puzzling phrase: "the author deserves to be praised, for he did not
deliberately commit all these follies, which had they been intentional
would send him to the galleys for the rest of his life." [Starkie's trans., p.
90] Here, he is apparently condemning the book, although, in the next
breath, the curate recommends the book to the barber: "Take him home
and read him..." And in a later chapter Cervantes speaks of "the never
enough to be praised Tirante the White." So what are we to make of
this apparently condemnatory phrase about the "galleys"? Scholarship
has provided some ingenious theories to negate the condemnation, to
wit: it is not a statement, but a question; the galleys are less a
punishment than a death sentence would be; it is not Cervantes' opinion,
but the curate's; the word galleys actually refers to "galley-proofs" and
mean that the work should remain in print forever, etc. (See, for
example, Patricia J. Boehne, The Renaissance Catalan Novel [Boston:
Twayne, 1989], Antonio Torres Alcala, El realismo del Tirant lo
Blanch y su influencia en el Quijote [Barcelona: Puvill, 1979?], and the
studies by Martin de Riquer.) Very interesting theories, but we are no
more certain of the meaning behind Cervantes' words than when we
first read them: they remain a puzzle. However, the novel Tirant lo
Blanc also speaks to us: Do we feel that the novel is utter nonsense and
badly written, or is it moving, at times exciting, often humorous? In
short, is it good literature? Through our own eyes we can make a
judgement about the meaning of those apparently incongruous words of
Cervantes.
(11) Footnote: pp. 203-204.
(12) p. 90.

CHAPTER I
COUNT WILLIAM OF WARWICK
In the fertile, rich and lovely island of England there lived a most
valiant knight, noble by his lineage and much more for his courage. In
his great wisdom and ingenuity he had served the profession of
chivalry for many years and with a great deal of honor, and his fame
was widely known throughout the world. His name was Count William
of Warwick. This was a very strong knight who, in his virile youth, had

practiced the use of arms, following wars on sea as well as land, and he
had brought many battles to a successful conclusion.
The count found himself at the advanced age of fifty-five, and moved
by divine inspiration he decided to withdraw from the practice of arms
and make a pilgrimage to the holy land of Jerusalem. This virtuous
count wanted to go, because he felt sorrow and contrition for the many
deaths he had caused in his youth.
That evening he told the countess, his wife, about his plans, and
although she was virtuous and discreet, she became very upset at the
news because she loved him so much. In the morning the count had all
his servants, both men and women, come to him, and he said:
"My children and most faithful servants, it is the will of His Divine
Majesty that I should leave you, and the time of my return is uncertain.
Since the journey will be very dangerous, I want to pay each of you
now for all the good services you have rendered to me."
He had a large chest full of money brought out, and to each of his
servants he gave much more than he owed, so that they were all very
satisfied. Then he gave the countess all his land and all his rights. And
he ordered that a ring of gold be made with his and the countess's coat
of arms on it, and this ring was made in such away that it was divided
into two parts. Each part was a complete ring in itself, showing half the
coat of arms of each of them, and when the two halves were joined
together the entire coat of arms could be seen.
When all this had been done, he turned to the virtuous countess, and
said kindly:
"I know that you will accept my departure with love and patience, and
if it is God's will, my journey will soon be over. I am leaving in your
charge everything I have. And here is half of the ring I had made. I beg
you dearly to hold it in my stead, and to guard it until I return."
"Oh, dear!" cried the countess. "Then it's true, my lord, that you are
leaving without me? At least allow me to go with you