Thursday, July 1, 2010

Don Quixote 1.50



"A good joke, that!" returned Don Quixote. "Books that have been
printed with the king's licence, and with the approbation of those
to whom they have been submitted, and read with universal delight, and
extolled by great and small, rich and poor, learned and ignorant,
gentle and simple, in a word by people of every sort, of whatever rank
or condition they may be- that these should be lies! And above all
when they carry such an appearance of truth with them; for they tell
us the father, mother, country, kindred, age, place, and the
achievements, step by step, and day by day, performed by such a knight
or knights! Hush, sir; utter not such blasphemy; trust me I am
advising you now to act as a sensible man should; only read them,
and you will see the pleasure you will derive from them. For, come,
tell me, can there be anything more delightful than to see, as it
were, here now displayed before us a vast lake of bubbling pitch
with a host of snakes and serpents and lizards, and ferocious and
terrible creatures of all sorts swimming about in it, while from the
middle of the lake there comes a plaintive voice saying: 'Knight,
whosoever thou art who beholdest this dread lake, if thou wouldst
win the prize that lies hidden beneath these dusky waves, prove the
valour of thy stout heart and cast thyself into the midst of its
dark burning waters, else thou shalt not be worthy to see the mighty
wonders contained in the seven castles of the seven Fays that lie
beneath this black expanse;' and then the knight, almost ere the awful
voice has ceased, without stopping to consider, without pausing to
reflect upon the danger to which he is exposing himself, without
even relieving himself of the weight of his massive armour, commending
himself to God and to his lady, plunges into the midst of the
boiling lake, and when he little looks for it, or knows what his
fate is to be, he finds himself among flowery meadows, with which
the Elysian fields are not to be compared. The sky seems more
transparent there, and the sun shines with a strange brilliancy, and a
delightful grove of green leafy trees presents itself to the eyes
and charms the sight with its verdure, while the ear is soothed by the
sweet untutored melody of the countless birds of gay plumage that flit
to and fro among the interlacing branches. Here he sees a brook
whose limpid waters, like liquid crystal, ripple over fine sands and
white pebbles that look like sifted gold and purest pearls. There he
perceives a cunningly wrought fountain of many-coloured jasper and
polished marble; here another of rustic fashion where the little
mussel-shells and the spiral white and yellow mansions of the snail
disposed in studious disorder, mingled with fragments of glittering
crystal and mock emeralds, make up a work of varied aspect, where art,
imitating nature, seems to have outdone it. Suddenly there is
presented to his sight a strong castle or gorgeous palace with walls
of massy gold, turrets of diamond and gates of jacinth; in short, so
marvellous is its structure that though the materials of which it is
built are nothing less than diamonds, carbuncles, rubies, pearls,
gold, and emeralds, the workmanship is still more rare. And after
having seen all this, what can be more charming than to see how a bevy
of damsels comes forth from the gate of the castle in gay and gorgeous
attire, such that, were I to set myself now to depict it as the
histories describe it to us, I should never have done; and then how
she who seems to be the first among them all takes the bold knight who
plunged into the boiling lake by the hand, and without addressing a
word to him leads him into the rich palace or castle, and strips him
as naked as when his mother bore him, and bathes him in lukewarm
water, and anoints him all over with sweet-smelling unguents, and
clothes him in a shirt of the softest sendal, all scented and
perfumed, while another damsel comes and throws over his shoulders a
mantle which is said to be worth at the very least a city, and even
more? How charming it is, then, when they tell us how, after all this,
they lead him to another chamber where he finds the tables set out
in such style that he is filled with amazement and wonder; to see
how they pour out water for his hands distilled from amber and
sweet-scented flowers; how they seat him on an ivory chair; to see how
the damsels wait on him all in profound silence; how they bring him
such a variety of dainties so temptingly prepared that the appetite is
at a loss which to select; to hear the music that resounds while he is
at table, by whom or whence produced he knows not. And then when the
repast is over and the tables removed, for the knight to recline in
the chair, picking his teeth perhaps as usual, and a damsel, much
lovelier than any of the others, to enter unexpectedly by the
chamber door, and herself by his side, and begin to tell him what
the castle is, and how she is held enchanted there, and other things
that amaze the knight and astonish the readers who are perusing his
history. But I will not expatiate any further upon this, as it may
be gathered from it that whatever part of whatever history of a
knight-errant one reads, it will fill the reader, whoever he be,
with delight and wonder; and take my advice, sir, and, as I said
before, read these books and you will see how they will banish any
melancholy you may feel and raise your spirits should they be
depressed. For myself I can say that since I have been a knight-errant
I have become valiant, polite, generous, well-bred, magnanimous,
courteous, dauntless, gentle, patient, and have learned to bear
hardships, imprisonments, and enchantments; and though it be such a
short time since I have seen myself shut up in a cage like a madman, I
hope by the might of my arm, if heaven aid me and fortune thwart me
not, to see myself king of some kingdom where I may be able to show
the gratitude and generosity that dwell in my heart; for by my
faith, senor, the poor man is incapacitated from showing the virtue of
generosity to anyone, though he may possess it in the highest
degree; and gratitude that consists of disposition only is a dead
thing, just as faith without works is dead. For this reason I should
be glad were fortune soon to offer me some opportunity of making
myself an emperor, so as to show my heart in doing good to my friends,
particularly to this poor Sancho Panza, my squire, who is the best
fellow in the world; and I would gladly give him a county I have
promised him this ever so long, only that I am afraid he has not the
capacity to govern his realm."

Sancho partly heard these last words of his master, and said to him,
"Strive hard you, Senor Don Quixote, to give me that county so often
promised by you and so long looked for by me, for I promise you
there will be no want of capacity in me to govern it; and even if
there is, I have heard say there are men in the world who farm
seigniories, paying so much a year, and they themselves taking
charge of the government, while the lord, with his legs stretched out,
enjoys the revenue they pay him, without troubling himself about
anything else. That's what I'll do, and not stand haggling over
trifles, but wash my hands at once of the whole business, and enjoy my
rents like a duke, and let things go their own way."

"That, brother Sancho," said the canon, "only holds good as far as
the enjoyment of the revenue goes; but the lord of the seigniory
must attend to the administration of justice, and here capacity and
sound judgment come in, and above all a firm determination to find out
the truth; for if this be wanting in the beginning, the middle and the
end will always go wrong; and God as commonly aids the honest
intentions of the simple as he frustrates the evil designs of the

"I don't understand those philosophies," returned Sancho Panza; "all
I know is I would I had the county as soon as I shall know how to
govern it; for I have as much soul as another, and as much body as
anyone, and I shall be as much king of my realm as any other of his;
and being so I should do as I liked, and doing as I liked I should
please myself, and pleasing myself I should be content, and when one
is content he has nothing more to desire, and when one has nothing
more to desire there is an end of it; so let the county come, and
God he with you, and let us see one another, as one blind man said
to the other."

"That is not bad philosophy thou art talking, Sancho," said the
canon; "but for all that there is a good deal to be said on this
matter of counties."

To which Don Quixote returned, "I know not what more there is to
be said; I only guide myself by the example set me by the great Amadis
of Gaul, when he made his squire count of the Insula Firme; and so,
without any scruples of conscience, I can make a count of Sancho
Panza, for he is one of the best squires that ever knight-errant had."

The canon was astonished at the methodical nonsense (if nonsense
be capable of method) that Don Quixote uttered, at the way in which he
had described the adventure of the knight of the lake, at the
impression that the deliberate lies of the books he read had made upon
him, and lastly he marvelled at the simplicity of Sancho, who
desired so eagerly to obtain the county his master had promised him.

By this time the canon's servants, who had gone to the inn to
fetch the sumpter mule, had returned, and making a carpet and the
green grass of the meadow serve as a table, they seated themselves
in the shade of some trees and made their repast there, that the
carter might not be deprived of the advantage of the spot, as has been
already said. As they were eating they suddenly heard a loud noise and
the sound of a bell that seemed to come from among some brambles and
thick bushes that were close by, and the same instant they observed
a beautiful goat, spotted all over black, white, and brown, spring out
of the thicket with a goatherd after it, calling to it and uttering
the usual cries to make it stop or turn back to the fold. The fugitive
goat, scared and frightened, ran towards the company as if seeking
their protection and then stood still, and the goatherd coming up
seized it by the horns and began to talk to it as if it were possessed
of reason and understanding: "Ah wanderer, wanderer, Spotty, Spotty;
how have you gone limping all this time? What wolves have frightened
you, my daughter? Won't you tell me what is the matter, my beauty? But
what else can it be except that you are a she, and cannot keep
quiet? A plague on your humours and the humours of those you take
after! Come back, come back, my darling; and if you will not be so
happy, at any rate you will be safe in the fold or with your
companions; for if you who ought to keep and lead them, go wandering
astray, what will become of them?"

The goatherd's talk amused all who heard it, but especially the
canon, who said to him, "As you live, brother, take it easy, and be
not in such a hurry to drive this goat back to the fold; for, being
a female, as you say, she will follow her natural instinct in spite of
all you can do to prevent it. Take this morsel and drink a sup, and
that will soothe your irritation, and in the meantime the goat will
rest herself," and so saying, he handed him the loins of a cold rabbit
on a fork.

The goatherd took it with thanks, and drank and calmed himself,
and then said, "I should be sorry if your worships were to take me for
a simpleton for having spoken so seriously as I did to this animal;
but the truth is there is a certain mystery in the words I used. I
am a clown, but not so much of one but that I know how to behave to
men and to beasts."

"That I can well believe," said the curate, "for I know already by
experience that the woods breed men of learning, and shepherds'
harbour philosophers."

"At all events, senor," returned the goatherd, "they shelter men
of experience; and that you may see the truth of this and grasp it,
though I may seem to put myself forward without being asked, I will,
if it will not tire you, gentlemen, and you will give me your
attention for a little, tell you a true story which will confirm
this gentleman's word (and he pointed to the curate) as well as my

To this Don Quixote replied, "Seeing that this affair has a
certain colour of chivalry about it, I for my part, brother, will hear
you most gladly, and so will all these gentlemen, from the high
intelligence they possess and their love of curious novelties that
interest, charm, and entertain the mind, as I feel quite sure your
story will do. So begin, friend, for we are all prepared to listen."

"I draw my stakes," said Sancho, "and will retreat with this pasty
to the brook there, where I mean to victual myself for three days; for
I have heard my lord, Don Quixote, say that a knight-errant's squire
should eat until he can hold no more, whenever he has the chance,
because it often happens them to get by accident into a wood so
thick that they cannot find a way out of it for six days; and if the
man is not well filled or his alforjas well stored, there he may stay,
as very often he does, turned into a dried mummy."

"Thou art in the right of it, Sancho," said Don Quixote; "go where
thou wilt and eat all thou canst, for I have had enough, and only want
to give my mind its refreshment, as I shall by listening to this
good fellow's story."

"It is what we shall all do," said the canon; and then begged the
goatherd to begin the promised tale.

The goatherd gave the goat which he held by the horns a couple of
slaps on the back, saying, "Lie down here beside me, Spotty, for we
have time enough to return to our fold." The goat seemed to understand
him, for as her master seated himself, she stretched herself quietly
beside him and looked up in his face to show him she was all attention
to what he was going to say, and then in these words he began his

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