The History of Don Quixote, Vol. I, Complete - Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
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In the first pamphlet the battle between Don Quixote and the Biscayan was
drawn to the very life, they planted in the same attitude as the history
describes, their swords raised, and the one protected by his buckler, the
other by his cushion, and the Biscayan's mule so true to nature that it
could be seen to be a hired one a bowshot off. The Biscayan had an
inscription under his feet which said, "Don Sancho de Azpeitia," which no
doubt must have been his name; and at the feet of Rocinante was another
that said, "Don Quixote." Rocinante was marvellously portrayed, so long
and thin, so lank and lean, with so much backbone and so far gone in
consumption, that he showed plainly with what judgment and propriety the
name of Rocinante had been bestowed upon him. Near him was Sancho Panza
holding the halter of his ass, at whose feet was another label that said,
"Sancho Zancas," and according to the picture, he must have had a big
belly, a short body, and long shanks, for which reason, no doubt, the
names of Panza and Zancas were given him, for by these two surnames the
history several times calls him. Some other trifling particulars might be
mentioned, but they are all of slight importance and have nothing to do
with the true relation of the history; and no history can be bad so long
as it is true.
If against the present one any objection be raised on the score of its
truth, it can only be that its author was an Arab, as lying is a very
common propensity with those of that nation; though, as they are such
enemies of ours, it is conceivable that there were omissions rather than
additions made in the course of it. And this is my own opinion; for,
where he could and should give freedom to his pen in praise of so worthy
a knight, he seems to me deliberately to pass it over in silence; which
is ill done and worse contrived, for it is the business and duty of
historians to be exact, truthful, and wholly free from passion, and
neither interest nor fear, hatred nor love, should make them swerve from
the path of truth, whose mother is history, rival of time, storehouse of
deeds, witness for the past, example and counsel for the present, and
warning for the future. In this I know will be found all that can be
desired in the pleasantest, and if it be wanting in any good quality, I
maintain it is the fault of its hound of an author and not the fault of
the subject. To be brief, its Second Part, according to the translation,
began in this way:
With trenchant swords upraised and poised on high, it seemed as though
the two valiant and wrathful combatants stood threatening heaven, and
earth, and hell, with such resolution and determination did they bear
themselves. The fiery Biscayan was the first to strike a blow, which was
delivered with such force and fury that had not the sword turned in its
course, that single stroke would have sufficed to put an end to the
bitter struggle and to all the adventures of our knight; but that good
fortune which reserved him for greater things, turned aside the sword of
his adversary, so that although it smote him upon the left shoulder, it
did him no more harm than to strip all that side of its armour, carrying
away a great part of his helmet with half of his ear, all which with
fearful ruin fell to the ground, leaving him in a sorry plight.
Good God! Who is there that could properly describe the rage that filled
the heart of our Manchegan when he saw himself dealt with in this
fashion? All that can be said is, it was such that he again raised
himself in his stirrups, and, grasping his sword more firmly with both
hands, he came down on the Biscayan with such fury, smiting him full over
the cushion and over the head, that--even so good a shield proving
useless--as if a mountain had fallen on him, he began to bleed from nose,
mouth, and ears, reeling as if about to fall backwards from his mule, as
no doubt he would have done had he not flung his arms about its neck; at
the same time, however, he slipped his feet out of the stirrups and then
unclasped his arms, and the mule, taking fright at the terrible blow,
made off across the plain, and with a few plunges flung its master to the
ground. Don Quixote stood looking on very calmly, and, when he saw him
fall, leaped from his horse and with great briskness ran to him, and,
presenting the point of his sword to his eyes, bade him surrender, or he
would cut his head off. The Biscayan was so bewildered that he was unable
to answer a word, and it would have gone hard with him, so blind was Don
Quixote, had not the ladies in the coach, who had hitherto been watching
the combat in great terror, hastened to where he stood and implored him
with earnest entreaties to grant them the great grace and favour of
sparing their squire's life; to which Don Quixote replied with much
gravity and dignity, "In truth, fair ladies, I am well content to do what
ye ask of me; but it must be on one condition and understanding, which is
that this knight promise me to go to the village of El Toboso, and on my
behalf present himself before the peerless lady Dulcinea, that she deal
with him as shall be most pleasing to her."
The terrified and disconsolate ladies, without discussing Don Quixote's
demand or asking who Dulcinea might be, promised that their squire should
do all that had been commanded.
"Then, on the faith of that promise," said Don Quixote, "I shall do him
no further harm, though he well deserves it of me."
CHAPTER X.
OF THE PLEASANT DISCOURSE THAT PASSED BETWEEN DON QUIXOTE AND HIS SQUIRE
SANCHO PANZA
Now by this time Sancho had risen, rather the worse for the handling of
the friars' muleteers, and stood watching the battle of his master, Don
Quixote, and praying to God in his heart that it might be his will to
grant him the victory, and that he might thereby win some island to make
him governor of, as he had promised. Seeing, therefore, that the struggle
was now over, and that his master was returning to mount Rocinante, he
approached to hold the stirrup for him, and, before he could mount, he
went on his knees before him, and taking his hand, kissed it saying, "May
it please your worship, Senor Don Quixote, to give me the government of
that island which has been won in this hard fight, for be it ever so big
I feel myself in sufficient force to be able to govern it as much and as
well as anyone in the world who has ever governed islands."
To which Don Quixote replied, "Thou must take notice, brother Sancho,
that this adventure and those like it are not adventures of islands, but
of cross-roads, in which nothing is got except a broken head or an ear
the less: have patience, for adventures will present themselves from
which I may make you, not only a governor, but something more."
Sancho gave him many thanks, and again kissing his hand and the skirt of
his hauberk, helped him to mount Rocinante, and mounting his ass himself,
proceeded to follow his master, who at a brisk pace, without taking
leave, or saying anything further to the ladies belonging to the coach,
turned into a wood that was hard by. Sancho followed him at his ass's
best trot, but Rocinante stepped out so that, seeing himself left behind,
he was forced to call to his master to wait for him. Don Quixote did so,
reining in Rocinante until his weary squire came up, who on reaching him
said, "It seems to me, senor, it would be prudent in us to go and take
refuge in some church, for, seeing how mauled he with whom you fought has
been left, it will be no wonder if they give information of the affair to
the Holy Brotherhood and arrest us, and, faith, if they do, before we
come out of gaol we shall have to sweat for it."
"Peace," said Don Quixote; "where hast thou ever seen or heard that a
knight-errant has been arraigned before a court of justice, however many
homicides he may have committed?"
"I know nothing about omecils," answered Sancho, "nor in my life have had
anything to do with one; I only know that the Holy Brotherhood looks
after those who fight in the fields, and in that other matter I do not
meddle."
"Then thou needst have no uneasiness, my friend," said Don Quixote, "for
I will deliver thee out of the hands of the Chaldeans, much more out of
those of the Brotherhood. But tell me, as thou livest, hast thou seen a
more valiant knight than I in all the known world; hast thou read in
history of any who has or had higher mettle in attack, more spirit in
maintaining it, more dexterity in wounding or skill in overthrowing?"
"The truth is," answered Sancho, "that I have never read any history, for
I can neither read nor write, but what I will venture to bet is that a
more daring master than your worship I have never served in all the days
of my life, and God grant that this daring be not paid for where I have
said; what I beg of your worship is to dress your wound, for a great deal
of blood flows from that ear, and I have here some lint and a little
white ointment in the alforjas."
"All that might be well dispensed with," said Don Quixote, "if I had
remembered to make a vial of the balsam of Fierabras, for time and
medicine are saved by one single drop."
"What vial and what balsam is that?" said Sancho Panza.
"It is a balsam," answered Don Quixote, "the receipt of which I have in
my memory, with which one need have no fear of death, or dread dying of
any wound; and so when I make it and give it to thee thou hast nothing to
do when in some battle thou seest they have cut me in half through the
middle of the body--as is wont to happen frequently,--but neatly and with
great nicety, ere the blood congeal, to place that portion of the body
which shall have fallen to the ground upon the other half which remains
in the saddle, taking care to fit it on evenly and exactly. Then thou
shalt give me to drink but two drops of the balsam I have mentioned, and
thou shalt see me become sounder than an apple."
"If that be so," said Panza, "I renounce henceforth the government of the
promised island, and desire nothing more in payment of my many and
faithful services than that your worship give me the receipt of this
supreme liquor, for I am persuaded it will be worth more than two reals
an ounce anywhere, and I want no more to pass the rest of my life in ease
and honour; but it remains to be told if it costs much to make it."
"With less than three reals, six quarts of it may be made," said Don
Quixote.
"Sinner that I am!" said Sancho, "then why does your worship put off
making it and teaching it to me?"
"Peace, friend," answered Don Quixote; "greater secrets I mean to teach
thee and greater favours to bestow upon thee; and for the present let us
see to the dressing, for my ear pains me more than I could wish."
Sancho took out some lint and ointment from the alforjas; but when Don
Quixote came to see his helmet shattered, he was like to lose his senses,
and clapping his hand upon his sword and raising his eyes to heaven, be
said, "I swear by the Creator of all things and the four Gospels in their
fullest extent, to do as the great Marquis of Mantua did when he swore to
avenge the death of his nephew Baldwin (and that was not to eat bread
from a table-cloth, nor embrace his wife, and other points which, though
I cannot now call them to mind, I here grant as expressed) until I take
complete vengeance upon him who has committed such an offence against
me."
Hearing this, Sancho said to him, "Your worship should bear in mind,
Senor Don Quixote, that if the knight has done what was commanded him in
going to present himself before my lady Dulcinea del Toboso, he will have
done all that he was bound to do, and does not deserve further punishment
unless he commits some new offence."
"Thou hast said well and hit the point," answered Don Quixote; and so I
recall the oath in so far as relates to taking fresh vengeance on him,
but I make and confirm it anew to lead the life I have said until such
time as I take by force from some knight another helmet such as this and
as good; and think not, Sancho, that I am raising smoke with straw in
doing so, for I have one to imitate in the matter, since the very same
thing to a hair happened in the case of Mambrino's helmet, which cost
Sacripante so dear."
"Senor," replied Sancho, "let your worship send all such oaths to the
devil, for they are very pernicious to salvation and prejudicial to the
conscience; just tell me now, if for several days to come we fall in with
no man armed with a helmet, what are we to do? Is the oath to be observed
in spite of all the inconvenience and discomfort it will be to sleep in
your clothes, and not to sleep in a house, and a thousand other
mortifications contained in the oath of that old fool the Marquis of
Mantua, which your worship is now wanting to revive? Let your worship
observe that there are no men in armour travelling on any of these roads,
nothing but carriers and carters, who not only do not wear helmets, but
perhaps never heard tell of them all their lives."
"Thou art wrong there," said Don Quixote, "for we shall not have been
above two hours among these cross-roads before we see more men in armour
than came to Albraca to win the fair Angelica."
"Enough," said Sancho; "so be it then, and God grant us success, and that
the time for winning that island which is costing me so dear may soon
come, and then let me die."
"I have already told thee, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "not to give
thyself any uneasiness on that score; for if an island should fail, there
is the kingdom of Denmark, or of Sobradisa, which will fit thee as a ring
fits the finger, and all the more that, being on terra firma, thou wilt
all the better enjoy thyself. But let us leave that to its own time; see
if thou hast anything for us to eat in those alforjas, because we must
presently go in quest of some castle where we may lodge to-night and make
the balsam I told thee of, for I swear to thee by God, this ear is giving
me great pain."
"I have here an onion and a little cheese and a few scraps of bread,"
said Sancho, "but they are not victuals fit for a valiant knight like
your worship."
"How little thou knowest about it," answered Don Quixote; "I would have
thee to know, Sancho, that it is the glory of knights-errant to go
without eating for a month, and even when they do eat, that it should be
of what comes first to hand; and this would have been clear to thee hadst
thou read as many histories as I have, for, though they are very many,
among them all I have found no mention made of knights-errant eating,
unless by accident or at some sumptuous banquets prepared for them, and
the rest of the time they passed in dalliance. And though it is plain
they could not do without eating and performing all the other natural
functions, because, in fact, they were men like ourselves, it is plain
too that, wandering as they did the most part of their lives through
woods and wilds and without a cook, their most usual fare would be rustic
viands such as those thou now offer me; so that, friend Sancho, let not
that distress thee which pleases me, and do not seek to make a new world
or pervert knight-errantry."
"Pardon me, your worship," said Sancho, "for, as I cannot read or write,
as I said just now, I neither know nor comprehend the rules of the
profession of chivalry: henceforward I will stock the alforjas with every
kind of dry fruit for your worship, as you are a knight; and for myself,
as I am not one, I will furnish them with poultry and other things more
substantial."
"I do not say, Sancho," replied Don Quixote, "that it is imperative on
knights-errant not to eat anything else but the fruits thou speakest of;
only that their more usual diet must be those, and certain herbs they
found in the fields which they knew and I know too."
"A good thing it is," answered Sancho, "to know those herbs, for to my
thinking it will be needful some day to put that knowledge into
practice."
And here taking out what he said he had brought, the pair made their
repast peaceably and sociably. But anxious to find quarters for the
night, they with all despatch made an end of their poor dry fare, mounted
at once, and made haste to reach some habitation before night set in; but
daylight and the hope of succeeding in their object failed them close by
the huts of some goatherds, so they determined to pass the night there,
and it was as much to Sancho's discontent not to have reached a house, as
it was to his master's satisfaction to sleep under the open heaven, for
he fancied that each time this happened to him he performed an act of
ownership that helped to prove his chivalry.
CHAPTER XI.
WHAT BEFELL DON QUIXOTE WITH CERTAIN GOATHERDS
He was cordially welcomed by the goatherds, and Sancho, having as best he
could put up Rocinante and the ass, drew towards the fragrance that came
from some pieces of salted goat simmering in a pot on the fire; and
though he would have liked at once to try if they were ready to be
transferred from the pot to the stomach, he refrained from doing so as
the goatherds removed them from the fire, and laying sheepskins on the
ground, quickly spread their rude table, and with signs of hearty
good-will invited them both to share what they had. Round the skins six
of the men belonging to the fold seated themselves, having first with
rough politeness pressed Don Quixote to take a seat upon a trough which
they placed for him upside down. Don Quixote seated himself, and Sancho
remained standing to serve the cup, which was made of horn. Seeing him
standing, his master said to him:
"That thou mayest see, Sancho, the good that knight-errantry contains in
itself, and how those who fill any office in it are on the high road to
be speedily honoured and esteemed by the world, I desire that thou seat
thyself here at my side and in the company of these worthy people, and
that thou be one with me who am thy master and natural lord, and that
thou eat from my plate and drink from whatever I drink from; for the same
may be said of knight-errantry as of love, that it levels all."
"Great thanks," said Sancho, "but I may tell your worship that provided I
have enough to eat, I can eat it as well, or better, standing, and by
myself, than seated alongside of an emperor. And indeed, if the truth is
to be told, what I eat in my corner without form or fuss has much more
relish for me, even though it be bread and onions, than the turkeys of
those other tables where I am forced to chew slowly, drink little, wipe
my mouth every minute, and cannot sneeze or cough if I want or do other
things that are the privileges of liberty and solitude. So, senor, as for
these honours which your worship would put upon me as a servant and
follower of knight-errantry, exchange them for other things which may be
of more use and advantage to me; for these, though I fully acknowledge
them as received, I renounce from this moment to the end of the world."
"For all that," said Don Quixote, "thou must seat thyself, because him
who humbleth himself God exalteth;" and seizing him by the arm he forced
him to sit down beside himself.
The goatherds did not understand this jargon about squires and
knights-errant, and all they did was to eat in silence and stare at their
guests, who with great elegance and appetite were stowing away pieces as
big as one's fist. The course of meat finished, they spread upon the
sheepskins a great heap of parched acorns, and with them they put down a
half cheese harder than if it had been made of mortar. All this while the
horn was not idle, for it went round so constantly, now full, now empty,
like the bucket of a water-wheel, that it soon drained one of the two
wine-skins that were in sight. When Don Quixote had quite appeased his
appetite he took up a handful of the acorns, and contemplating them
attentively delivered himself somewhat in this fashion:
"Happy the age, happy the time, to which the ancients gave the name of
golden, not because in that fortunate age the gold so coveted in this our
iron one was gained without toil, but because they that lived in it knew
not the two words "mine" and "thine"! In that blessed age all things were
in common; to win the daily food no labour was required of any save to
stretch forth his hand and gather it from the sturdy oaks that stood
generously inviting him with their sweet ripe fruit. The clear streams
and running brooks yielded their savoury limpid waters in noble
abundance. The busy and sagacious bees fixed their republic in the clefts
of the rocks and hollows of the trees, offering without usance the
plenteous produce of their fragrant toil to every hand. The mighty cork
trees, unenforced save of their own courtesy, shed the broad light bark
that served at first to roof the houses supported by rude stakes, a
protection against the inclemency of heaven alone. Then all was peace,
all friendship, all concord; as yet the dull share of the crooked plough
had not dared to rend and pierce the tender bowels of our first mother
that without compulsion yielded from every portion of her broad fertile
bosom all that could satisfy, sustain, and delight the children that then
possessed her. Then was it that the innocent and fair young shepherdess
roamed from vale to vale and hill to hill, with flowing locks, and no
more garments than were needful modestly to cover what modesty seeks and
ever sought to hide. Nor were their ornaments like those in use to-day,
set off by Tyrian purple, and silk tortured in endless fashions, but the
wreathed leaves of the green dock and ivy, wherewith they went as bravely
and becomingly decked as our Court dames with all the rare and
far-fetched artifices that idle curiosity has taught them. Then the
love-thoughts of the heart clothed themselves simply and naturally as the
heart conceived them, nor sought to commend themselves by forced and
rambling verbiage. Fraud, deceit, or malice had then not yet mingled with
truth and sincerity. Justice held her ground, undisturbed and unassailed
by the efforts of favour and of interest, that now so much impair,
pervert, and beset her. Arbitrary law had not yet established itself in
the mind of the judge, for then there was no cause to judge and no one to
be judged. Maidens and modesty, as I have said, wandered at will alone
and unattended, without fear of insult from lawlessness or libertine
assault, and if they were undone it was of their own will and pleasure.
But now in this hateful age of ours not one is safe, not though some new
labyrinth like that of Crete conceal and surround her; even there the
pestilence of gallantry will make its way to them through chinks or on
the air by the zeal of its accursed importunity, and, despite of all
seclusion, lead them to ruin. In defence of these, as time advanced and
wickedness increased, the order of knights-errant was instituted, to
defend maidens, to protect widows and to succour the orphans and the
needy. To this order I belong, brother goatherds, to whom I return thanks
for the hospitality and kindly welcome ye offer me and my squire; for
though by natural law all living are bound to show favour to
knights-errant, yet, seeing that without knowing this obligation ye have
welcomed and feasted me, it is right that with all the good-will in my
power I should thank you for yours."
All this long harangue (which might very well have been spared) our
knight delivered because the acorns they gave him reminded him of the
golden age; and the whim seized him to address all this unnecessary
argument to the goatherds, who listened to him gaping in amazement
without saying a word in reply. Sancho likewise held his peace and ate
acorns, and paid repeated visits to the second wine-skin, which they had
hung up on a cork tree to keep the wine cool.
Don Quixote was longer in talking than the supper in finishing, at the
end of which one of the goatherds said, "That your worship, senor
knight-errant, may say with more truth that we show you hospitality with
ready good-will, we will give you amusement and pleasure by making one of
our comrades sing: he will be here before long, and he is a very
intelligent youth and deep in love, and what is more he can read and
write and play on the rebeck to perfection."
The goatherd had hardly done speaking, when the notes of the rebeck
reached their ears; and shortly after, the player came up, a very
good-looking young man of about two-and-twenty. His comrades asked him if
he had supped, and on his replying that he had, he who had already made
the offer said to him:
"In that case, Antonio, thou mayest as well do us the pleasure of singing
a little, that the gentleman, our guest, may see that even in the
mountains and woods there are musicians: we have told him of thy
accomplishments, and we want thee to show them and prove that we say
true; so, as thou livest, pray sit down and sing that ballad about thy
love that thy uncle the prebendary made thee, and that was so much liked
in the town."
"With all my heart," said the young man, and without waiting for more
pressing he seated himself on the trunk of a felled oak, and tuning his
rebeck, presently began to sing to these words.