The History of Don Quixote, Volume II., Complete - Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
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So much for Master Pedro and his ape; and now to return to Don Quixote of
La Mancha. After he had left the inn he determined to visit, first of
all, the banks of the Ebro and that neighbourhood, before entering the
city of Saragossa, for the ample time there was still to spare before the
jousts left him enough for all. With this object in view he followed the
road and travelled along it for two days, without meeting any adventure
worth committing to writing until on the third day, as he was ascending a
hill, he heard a great noise of drums, trumpets, and musket-shots. At
first he imagined some regiment of soldiers was passing that way, and to
see them he spurred Rocinante and mounted the hill. On reaching the top
he saw at the foot of it over two hundred men, as it seemed to him, armed
with weapons of various sorts, lances, crossbows, partisans, halberds,
and pikes, and a few muskets and a great many bucklers. He descended the
slope and approached the band near enough to see distinctly the flags,
make out the colours and distinguish the devices they bore, especially
one on a standard or ensign of white satin, on which there was painted in
a very life-like style an ass like a little sard, with its head up, its
mouth open and its tongue out, as if it were in the act and attitude of
braying; and round it were inscribed in large characters these two lines--
They did not bray in vain,
Our alcaldes twain.
From this device Don Quixote concluded that these people must be from the
braying town, and he said so to Sancho, explaining to him what was
written on the standard. At the same time he observed that the man who
had told them about the matter was wrong in saying that the two who
brayed were regidors, for according to the lines of the standard they
were alcaldes. To which Sancho replied, "Senor, there's nothing to stick
at in that, for maybe the regidors who brayed then came to be alcaldes of
their town afterwards, and so they may go by both titles; moreover, it
has nothing to do with the truth of the story whether the brayers were
alcaldes or regidors, provided at any rate they did bray; for an alcalde
is just as likely to bray as a regidor." They perceived, in short,
clearly that the town which had been twitted had turned out to do battle
with some other that had jeered it more than was fair or neighbourly.
Don Quixote proceeded to join them, not a little to Sancho's uneasiness,
for he never relished mixing himself up in expeditions of that sort. The
members of the troop received him into the midst of them, taking him to
be some one who was on their side. Don Quixote, putting up his visor,
advanced with an easy bearing and demeanour to the standard with the ass,
and all the chief men of the army gathered round him to look at him,
staring at him with the usual amazement that everybody felt on seeing him
for the first time. Don Quixote, seeing them examining him so
attentively, and that none of them spoke to him or put any question to
him, determined to take advantage of their silence; so, breaking his own,
he lifted up his voice and said, "Worthy sirs, I entreat you as earnestly
as I can not to interrupt an argument I wish to address to you, until you
find it displeases or wearies you; and if that come to pass, on the
slightest hint you give me I will put a seal upon my lips and a gag upon
my tongue."
They all bade him say what he liked, for they would listen to him
willingly.
With this permission Don Quixote went on to say, "I, sirs, am a
knight-errant whose calling is that of arms, and whose profession is to
protect those who require protection, and give help to such as stand in
need of it. Some days ago I became acquainted with your misfortune and
the cause which impels you to take up arms again and again to revenge
yourselves upon your enemies; and having many times thought over your
business in my mind, I find that, according to the laws of combat, you
are mistaken in holding yourselves insulted; for a private individual
cannot insult an entire community; unless it be by defying it
collectively as a traitor, because he cannot tell who in particular is
guilty of the treason for which he defies it. Of this we have an example
in Don Diego Ordonez de Lara, who defied the whole town of Zamora,
because he did not know that Vellido Dolfos alone had committed the
treachery of slaying his king; and therefore he defied them all, and the
vengeance and the reply concerned all; though, to be sure, Senor Don
Diego went rather too far, indeed very much beyond the limits of a
defiance; for he had no occasion to defy the dead, or the waters, or the
fishes, or those yet unborn, and all the rest of it as set forth; but let
that pass, for when anger breaks out there's no father, governor, or
bridle to check the tongue. The case being, then, that no one person can
insult a kingdom, province, city, state, or entire community, it is clear
there is no reason for going out to avenge the defiance of such an
insult, inasmuch as it is not one. A fine thing it would be if the people
of the clock town were to be at loggerheads every moment with everyone
who called them by that name,--or the Cazoleros, Berengeneros,
Ballenatos, Jaboneros, or the bearers of all the other names and titles
that are always in the mouth of the boys and common people! It would be a
nice business indeed if all these illustrious cities were to take huff
and revenge themselves and go about perpetually making trombones of their
swords in every petty quarrel! No, no; God forbid! There are four things
for which sensible men and well-ordered States ought to take up arms,
draw their swords, and risk their persons, lives, and properties. The
first is to defend the Catholic faith; the second, to defend one's life,
which is in accordance with natural and divine law; the third, in defence
of one's honour, family, and property; the fourth, in the service of
one's king in a just war; and if to these we choose to add a fifth (which
may be included in the second), in defence of one's country. To these
five, as it were capital causes, there may be added some others that may
be just and reasonable, and make it a duty to take up arms; but to take
them up for trifles and things to laugh at and he amused by rather than
offended, looks as though he who did so was altogether wanting in common
sense. Moreover, to take an unjust revenge (and there cannot be any just
one) is directly opposed to the sacred law that we acknowledge, wherein
we are commanded to do good to our enemies and to love them that hate us;
a command which, though it seems somewhat difficult to obey, is only so
to those who have in them less of God than of the world, and more of the
flesh than of the spirit; for Jesus Christ, God and true man, who never
lied, and could not and cannot lie, said, as our law-giver, that his yoke
was easy and his burden light; he would not, therefore, have laid any
command upon us that it was impossible to obey. Thus, sirs, you are bound
to keep quiet by human and divine law."
"The devil take me," said Sancho to himself at this, "but this master of
mine is a tologian; or, if not, faith, he's as like one as one egg is
like another."
Don Quixote stopped to take breath, and, observing that silence was still
preserved, had a mind to continue his discourse, and would have done so
had not Sancho interposed with his smartness; for he, seeing his master
pause, took the lead, saying, "My lord Don Quixote of La Mancha, who once
was called the Knight of the Rueful Countenance, but now is called the
Knight of the Lions, is a gentleman of great discretion who knows Latin
and his mother tongue like a bachelor, and in everything that he deals
with or advises proceeds like a good soldier, and has all the laws and
ordinances of what they call combat at his fingers' ends; so you have
nothing to do but to let yourselves be guided by what he says, and on my
head be it if it is wrong. Besides which, you have been told that it is
folly to take offence at merely hearing a bray. I remember when I was a
boy I brayed as often as I had a fancy, without anyone hindering me, and
so elegantly and naturally that when I brayed all the asses in the town
would bray; but I was none the less for that the son of my parents who
were greatly respected; and though I was envied because of the gift by
more than one of the high and mighty ones of the town, I did not care two
farthings for it; and that you may see I am telling the truth, wait a bit
and listen, for this art, like swimming, once learnt is never forgotten;"
and then, taking hold of his nose, he began to bray so vigorously that
all the valleys around rang again.
One of those, however, that stood near him, fancying he was mocking them,
lifted up a long staff he had in his hand and smote him such a blow with
it that Sancho dropped helpless to the ground. Don Quixote, seeing him so
roughly handled, attacked the man who had struck him lance in hand, but
so many thrust themselves between them that he could not avenge him. Far
from it, finding a shower of stones rained upon him, and crossbows and
muskets unnumbered levelled at him, he wheeled Rocinante round and, as
fast as his best gallop could take him, fled from the midst of them,
commending himself to God with all his heart to deliver him out of this
peril, in dread every step of some ball coming in at his back and coming
out at his breast, and every minute drawing his breath to see whether it
had gone from him. The members of the band, however, were satisfied with
seeing him take to flight, and did not fire on him. They put up Sancho,
scarcely restored to his senses, on his ass, and let him go after his
master; not that he was sufficiently in his wits to guide the beast, but
Dapple followed the footsteps of Rocinante, from whom he could not remain
a moment separated. Don Quixote having got some way off looked back, and
seeing Sancho coming, waited for him, as he perceived that no one
followed him. The men of the troop stood their ground till night, and as
the enemy did not come out to battle, they returned to their town
exulting; and had they been aware of the ancient custom of the Greeks,
they would have erected a trophy on the spot.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
OF MATTERS THAT BENENGELI SAYS HE WHO READS THEM WILL KNOW, IF HE READS
THEM WITH ATTENTION
When the brave man flees, treachery is manifest and it is for wise men to
reserve themselves for better occasions. This proved to be the case with
Don Quixote, who, giving way before the fury of the townsfolk and the
hostile intentions of the angry troop, took to flight and, without a
thought of Sancho or the danger in which he was leaving him, retreated to
such a distance as he thought made him safe. Sancho, lying across his
ass, followed him, as has been said, and at length came up, having by
this time recovered his senses, and on joining him let himself drop off
Dapple at Rocinante's feet, sore, bruised, and belaboured. Don Quixote
dismounted to examine his wounds, but finding him whole from head to
foot, he said to him, angrily enough, "In an evil hour didst thou take to
braying, Sancho! Where hast thou learned that it is well done to mention
the rope in the house of the man that has been hanged? To the music of
brays what harmonies couldst thou expect to get but cudgels? Give thanks
to God, Sancho, that they signed the cross on thee just now with a stick,
and did not mark thee per signum crucis with a cutlass."
"I'm not equal to answering," said Sancho, "for I feel as if I was
speaking through my shoulders; let us mount and get away from this; I'll
keep from braying, but not from saying that knights-errant fly and leave
their good squires to be pounded like privet, or made meal of at the
hands of their enemies."
"He does not fly who retires," returned Don Quixote; "for I would have
thee know, Sancho, that the valour which is not based upon a foundation
of prudence is called rashness, and the exploits of the rash man are to
be attributed rather to good fortune than to courage; and so I own that I
retired, but not that I fled; and therein I have followed the example of
many valiant men who have reserved themselves for better times; the
histories are full of instances of this, but as it would not be any good
to thee or pleasure to me, I will not recount them to thee now."
Sancho was by this time mounted with the help of Don Quixote, who then
himself mounted Rocinante, and at a leisurely pace they proceeded to take
shelter in a grove which was in sight about a quarter of a league off.
Every now and then Sancho gave vent to deep sighs and dismal groans, and
on Don Quixote asking him what caused such acute suffering, he replied
that, from the end of his back-bone up to the nape of his neck, he was so
sore that it nearly drove him out of his senses.
"The cause of that soreness," said Don Quixote, "will be, no doubt, that
the staff wherewith they smote thee being a very long one, it caught thee
all down the back, where all the parts that are sore are situated, and
had it reached any further thou wouldst be sorer still."
"By God," said Sancho, "your worship has relieved me of a great doubt,
and cleared up the point for me in elegant style! Body o' me! is the
cause of my soreness such a mystery that there's any need to tell me I am
sore everywhere the staff hit me? If it was my ankles that pained me
there might be something in going divining why they did, but it is not
much to divine that I'm sore where they thrashed me. By my faith, master
mine, the ills of others hang by a hair; every day I am discovering more
and more how little I have to hope for from keeping company with your
worship; for if this time you have allowed me to be drubbed, the next
time, or a hundred times more, we'll have the blanketings of the other
day over again, and all the other pranks which, if they have fallen on my
shoulders now, will be thrown in my teeth by-and-by. I would do a great
deal better (if I was not an ignorant brute that will never do any good
all my life), I would do a great deal better, I say, to go home to my
wife and children and support them and bring them up on what God may
please to give me, instead of following your worship along roads that
lead nowhere and paths that are none at all, with little to drink and
less to eat. And then when it comes to sleeping! Measure out seven feet
on the earth, brother squire, and if that's not enough for you, take as
many more, for you may have it all your own way and stretch yourself to
your heart's content. Oh that I could see burnt and turned to ashes the
first man that meddled with knight-errantry or at any rate the first who
chose to be squire to such fools as all the knights-errant of past times
must have been! Of those of the present day I say nothing, because, as
your worship is one of them, I respect them, and because I know your
worship knows a point more than the devil in all you say and think."
"I would lay a good wager with you, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "that now
that you are talking on without anyone to stop you, you don't feel a pain
in your whole body. Talk away, my son, say whatever comes into your head
or mouth, for so long as you feel no pain, the irritation your
impertinences give me will be a pleasure to me; and if you are so anxious
to go home to your wife and children, God forbid that I should prevent
you; you have money of mine; see how long it is since we left our village
this third time, and how much you can and ought to earn every month, and
pay yourself out of your own hand."
"When I worked for Tom Carrasco, the father of the bachelor Samson
Carrasco that your worship knows," replied Sancho, "I used to earn two
ducats a month besides my food; I can't tell what I can earn with your
worship, though I know a knight-errant's squire has harder times of it
than he who works for a farmer; for after all, we who work for farmers,
however much we toil all day, at the worst, at night, we have our olla
supper and sleep in a bed, which I have not slept in since I have been in
your worship's service, if it wasn't the short time we were in Don Diego
de Miranda's house, and the feast I had with the skimmings I took off
Camacho's pots, and what I ate, drank, and slept in Basilio's house; all
the rest of the time I have been sleeping on the hard ground under the
open sky, exposed to what they call the inclemencies of heaven, keeping
life in me with scraps of cheese and crusts of bread, and drinking water
either from the brooks or from the springs we come to on these by-paths
we travel."
"I own, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "that all thou sayest is true; how
much, thinkest thou, ought I to give thee over and above what Tom
Carrasco gave thee?"
"I think," said Sancho, "that if your worship was to add on two reals a
month I'd consider myself well paid; that is, as far as the wages of my
labour go; but to make up to me for your worship's pledge and promise to
me to give me the government of an island, it would be fair to add six
reals more, making thirty in all."
"Very good," said Don Quixote; "it is twenty-five days since we left our
village, so reckon up, Sancho, according to the wages you have made out
for yourself, and see how much I owe you in proportion, and pay yourself,
as I said before, out of your own hand."
"O body o' me!" said Sancho, "but your worship is very much out in that
reckoning; for when it comes to the promise of the island we must count
from the day your worship promised it to me to this present hour we are
at now."
"Well, how long is it, Sancho, since I promised it to you?" said Don
Quixote.
"If I remember rightly," said Sancho, "it must be over twenty years,
three days more or less."
Don Quixote gave himself a great slap on the forehead and began to laugh
heartily, and said he, "Why, I have not been wandering, either in the
Sierra Morena or in the whole course of our sallies, but barely two
months, and thou sayest, Sancho, that it is twenty years since I promised
thee the island. I believe now thou wouldst have all the money thou hast
of mine go in thy wages. If so, and if that be thy pleasure, I give it to
thee now, once and for all, and much good may it do thee, for so long as
I see myself rid of such a good-for-nothing squire I'll be glad to be
left a pauper without a rap. But tell me, thou perverter of the squirely
rules of knight-errantry, where hast thou ever seen or read that any
knight-errant's squire made terms with his lord, 'you must give me so
much a month for serving you'? Plunge, scoundrel, rogue, monster--for
such I take thee to be--plunge, I say, into the mare magnum of their
histories; and if thou shalt find that any squire ever said or thought
what thou hast said now, I will let thee nail it on my forehead, and give
me, over and above, four sound slaps in the face. Turn the rein, or the
halter, of thy Dapple, and begone home; for one single step further thou
shalt not make in my company. O bread thanklessly received! O promises
ill-bestowed! O man more beast than human being! Now, when I was about to
raise thee to such a position, that, in spite of thy wife, they would
call thee 'my lord,' thou art leaving me? Thou art going now when I had a
firm and fixed intention of making thee lord of the best island in the
world? Well, as thou thyself hast said before now, honey is not for the
mouth of the ass. Ass thou art, ass thou wilt be, and ass thou wilt end
when the course of thy life is run; for I know it will come to its close
before thou dost perceive or discern that thou art a beast."
Sancho regarded Don Quixote earnestly while he was giving him this
rating, and was so touched by remorse that the tears came to his eyes,
and in a piteous and broken voice he said to him, "Master mine, I confess
that, to be a complete ass, all I want is a tail; if your worship will
only fix one on to me, I'll look on it as rightly placed, and I'll serve
you as an ass all the remaining days of my life. Forgive me and have pity
on my folly, and remember I know but little, and, if I talk much, it's
more from infirmity than malice; but he who sins and mends commends
himself to God."
"I should have been surprised, Sancho," said Don Quixote, "if thou hadst
not introduced some bit of a proverb into thy speech. Well, well, I
forgive thee, provided thou dost mend and not show thyself in future so
fond of thine own interest, but try to be of good cheer and take heart,
and encourage thyself to look forward to the fulfillment of my promises,
which, by being delayed, does not become impossible."
Sancho said he would do so, and keep up his heart as best he could. They
then entered the grove, and Don Quixote settled himself at the foot of an
elm, and Sancho at that of a beech, for trees of this kind and others
like them always have feet but no hands. Sancho passed the night in pain,
for with the evening dews the blow of the staff made itself felt all the
more. Don Quixote passed it in his never-failing meditations; but, for
all that, they had some winks of sleep, and with the appearance of
daylight they pursued their journey in quest of the banks of the famous
Ebro, where that befell them which will be told in the following chapter.
CHAPTER XXIX.
OF THE FAMOUS ADVENTURE OF THE ENCHANTED BARK
By stages as already described or left undescribed, two days after
quitting the grove Don Quixote and Sancho reached the river Ebro, and the
sight of it was a great delight to Don Quixote as he contemplated and
gazed upon the charms of its banks, the clearness of its stream, the
gentleness of its current and the abundance of its crystal waters; and
the pleasant view revived a thousand tender thoughts in his mind. Above
all, he dwelt upon what he had seen in the cave of Montesinos; for though
Master Pedro's ape had told him that of those things part was true, part
false, he clung more to their truth than to their falsehood, the very
reverse of Sancho, who held them all to be downright lies.
As they were thus proceeding, then, they discovered a small boat, without
oars or any other gear, that lay at the water's edge tied to the stem of
a tree growing on the bank. Don Quixote looked all round, and seeing
nobody, at once, without more ado, dismounted from Rocinante and bade
Sancho get down from Dapple and tie both beasts securely to the trunk of
a poplar or willow that stood there. Sancho asked him the reason of this
sudden dismounting and tying. Don Quixote made answer, "Thou must know,
Sancho, that this bark is plainly, and without the possibility of any
alternative, calling and inviting me to enter it, and in it go to give
aid to some knight or other person of distinction in need of it, who is
no doubt in some sore strait; for this is the way of the books of
chivalry and of the enchanters who figure and speak in them. When a
knight is involved in some difficulty from which he cannot be delivered
save by the hand of another knight, though they may be at a distance of
two or three thousand leagues or more one from the other, they either
take him up on a cloud, or they provide a bark for him to get into, and
in less than the twinkling of an eye they carry him where they will and
where his help is required; and so, Sancho, this bark is placed here for
the same purpose; this is as true as that it is now day, and ere this one
passes tie Dapple and Rocinante together, and then in God's hand be it to
guide us; for I would not hold back from embarking, though barefooted
friars were to beg me."
"As that's the case," said Sancho, "and your worship chooses to give in
to these--I don't know if I may call them absurdities--at every turn,
there's nothing for it but to obey and bow the head, bearing in mind the
proverb, 'Do as thy master bids thee, and sit down to table with him;'
but for all that, for the sake of easing my conscience, I warn your
worship that it is my opinion this bark is no enchanted one, but belongs
to some of the fishermen of the river, for they catch the best shad in
the world here."
As Sancho said this, he tied the beasts, leaving them to the care and
protection of the enchanters with sorrow enough in his heart. Don Quixote
bade him not be uneasy about deserting the animals, "for he who would
carry themselves over such longinquous roads and regions would take care
to feed them."
"I don't understand that logiquous," said Sancho, "nor have I ever heard
the word all the days of my life."
"Longinquous," replied Don Quixote, "means far off; but it is no wonder
thou dost not understand it, for thou art not bound to know Latin, like
some who pretend to know it and don't."
"Now they are tied," said Sancho; "what are we to do next?"
"What?" said Don Quixote, "cross ourselves and weigh anchor; I mean,
embark and cut the moorings by which the bark is held;" and the bark
began to drift away slowly from the bank. But when Sancho saw himself
somewhere about two yards out in the river, he began to tremble and give
himself up for lost; but nothing distressed him more than hearing Dapple
bray and seeing Rocinante struggling to get loose, and said he to his
master, "Dapple is braying in grief at our leaving him, and Rocinante is
trying to escape and plunge in after us. O dear friends, peace be with
you, and may this madness that is taking us away from you, turned into
sober sense, bring us back to you." And with this he fell weeping so
bitterly, that Don Quixote said to him, sharply and angrily, "What art
thou afraid of, cowardly creature? What art thou weeping at, heart of
butter-paste? Who pursues or molests thee, thou soul of a tame mouse?
What dost thou want, unsatisfied in the very heart of abundance? Art
thou, perchance, tramping barefoot over the Riphaean mountains, instead
of being seated on a bench like an archduke on the tranquil stream of
this pleasant river, from which in a short space we shall come out upon
the broad sea? But we must have already emerged and gone seven hundred or
eight hundred leagues; and if I had here an astrolabe to take the
altitude of the pole, I could tell thee how many we have travelled,
though either I know little, or we have already crossed or shall shortly
cross the equinoctial line which parts the two opposite poles midway."