‘I vow to God!’ cried Sancho at this period, ‘not to mention three thousand, I will as soon give myself three stabs with a dagger as three single stripes with a scourge. Now, devil take such ways of disenchanting! I cannot conceive what my buttocks have to do with inchantments. Before God! if Signior Merlin can find no other method for disinchanting my Lady Dulcinea del Toboso, he may e’en go enchanted to her grave.’—‘Hark ye, Don Garlick-eating rustick,’ said Don Quixote, ‘I shall take and tie you to a tree, naked as your mother bore you, and not to mention three thousand three hundred, give you six thousand six hundred lashes, so well laid on, that three thousand three hundred twitches shall not pull them off; and answer me not a syllable, or I will tear thy soul from thy body.’
Merlin hearing this declaration—‘Not so, neither,’ said he; ‘the lashes to be received by honest Sancho must be voluntary, not upon compulsion, and at his own leisure, for there is no time fixed for the final execution; nevertheless, he is so far indulged, that he may be quit for one half of the stripes, provided he will allow the other half to be inflicted by another hand, though it may chance to be a little weighty.’—‘No man’s hand shall touch my flesh! neither another’s, nor my own, nor weighty nor unweighed. What a plague! did I, forsooth, bring my Lady Dulcinea into the world, that my backside must suffer for the transgression of her eyes? My master, indeed, who is a part of her, and is continually calling her his life, his soul, his sustenance and support, may, and ought to lash himself for her sake, and take with all dispatch the necessary steps for her disenchantment; but for me to scourge my own body, I denounce it!’
Scarce had Sancho uttered this remonstrance, when the embroidered nymph who sat by Merlin’s spirit, rising up, took off her transparent veil, and disclosing a face, which to all the spectators seemed more than exceedingly beautiful, addressed herself in these words directly to Sancho Panza, with a masculine assurance, and a voice that was not extremely melodious—‘O ill-conditioned squire! thou soul of a pitcher, heart of cork, and bowels of flinty pebbles! hadst thou been commanded, thou nose-slaying caitiff, to throw thyself down from a lofty tower; hadst thou been desired, thou enemy of human species, to swallow a dozen of toads, twice the number of lizards, and three dozen of snakes; hadst thou been urged to murder thy wife and children with some sharp and ruthless scymitar, it would not have been strange to see thee shy and fearful; but to make such objections to three thousand three hundred stripes, which there is scarce a naughty boy that does not receive every month, astounds, astonishes, and affrights the compassionate bowels of all this audience, as well as of all those who shall hear it in the future course of time. Turn, O miserable, hard-hearted animal! turn, I say, thy mulish goggle eyes upon these balls of mine that emulate the glittering stars, and see how they weep, thread by thread, and skein by skein, creating trenches, paths, and furrows, through the delightful meadows of my cheeks! Wilt thou not relent, thou crafty and malicious monster, at seeing me, in the flower of my age, (for I am still in my teens, being no more than nineteen, which is one year short of twenty) consume and pine within the bark of a homely rustick wench? in which form if I do not now appear, it is owing to the particular favour of Signior Merlin, who has indulged me so far, that my beauty might melt thy savage heart; for the tears of afflicted beauty soften rocks to cotton, and transform tygers into gentle lambs. Chastise, chastise, obdurate beast, that brawny beef of thine; arouze that slothful spirit which inclines thee to nothing but to gorge and regorge thy voracious maw, and set at liberty the beauty of my face; and if, for my sake, thou wilt not mollify thyself, and listen to any reasonable terms, at least relent in favour of that poor knight who stands forlorn at thy elbow; I mean, thy master, whose soul I now can see traversed in his throat, not above ten fingers breadth from his lips, waiting for nothing but thy kind or rigorous reply, in consequence of which it will either leap out of his mouth, or retire to his stomach.’
Don Quixote hearing these words, felt his throat, and turning to the duke, ‘By Heaven! my lord,’ said he, ‘Dulcinea has spoke truth; for here do I feel my soul traversed in my throat, like the nut of a cross-bow.’ When the duchess asked what Sancho said to that circumstance, ‘I say,’ replied the squire, ‘what I have said already, that the whipping I denounce.’—‘You must call it renounce,’ said the duke, ‘and not denounce.’—‘I would your grace would let me alone,’ answered Sancho, ‘this is no time for me to mind niceties and letters, more or less; for I am so confounded at those stripes which I am to receive, or execute upon myself, that I neither know what I am saying or doing: yet I should be glad to know where my Lady Dulcinea del Toboso learned that manner of asking favours. She comes to desire me to tear open my flesh with a horse-whip, and calls me soul of a pitcher, obdurate beast, and a whole rigmarole of villainous names, which the devil may suffer for me! What a plague, is my flesh made of brass; or is it any thing to me, whether she is disinchanted or no? What baskets of white linen, shirts, caps, and socks, (though I wear none) does she bring to soften me? Nothing but abuse upon abuse; without remembering the proverb, that says, An ass loaded with gold will skip over a mountain. A generous gift the rock will rift. We must fervently pray, and hammer away. I will give thee, is good; but, Here, take it, is better. Then, my master, who ought to lead me fair and softly by the hand, and persuade me with gentle words to whip myself into wool and carded cotton, declares, forsooth, that if he should once take me in hand, he will tie me naked to a tree, and double the allowance of stripes. These angry gentlemen ought to consider it is not only a squire, but a governor whom they desire to flog himself, as if it was no more than drinking after cherries. Let them learn, let them learn, with a vengeance, how to entreat and beg with good-breeding; for all seasons are not the same; and a man is not always in good-humour; here am I ready to burst with vexation to see the rent in my green coat, and they must needs come and desire me to whip myself with good will, when, God knows, I am as far from doing it with good will, as I am from turning Turk[175].’
‘Nevertheless, friend Sancho,’ said the duke, ‘if your heart does not become softer than a ripe fig, you shall finger no government of mine. It would be a fine scheme, indeed, if I should send to my islanders a cruel, flinty-hearted governor, who would not melt at the tears of damsels in affliction; nor at the entreaties of wise, imperious, ancient sages and inchanters! In a word, Sancho, you must either consent to whip yourself, or be whipped, or lay aside all thoughts of being a governor.’—‘My good lord,’ replied the squire, ‘will not they give me two days to consider and determine what will be for the best?’—‘By no means,’ cried Merlin: ‘on this very spot, and this very instant, the business must be discussed; otherwise Dulcinea will return to the cave of Montesinos, and the appearance of a country-wench; whereas, if you comply, she will, in her present form, be transported to the Elysian fields, where she must reside until the number of the stripes be accomplished.’
‘Go to, honest Sancho,’ said the duchess, ‘pluck up your spirits, and behave like a grateful squire that has eaten the bread of Signior Don Quixote, who is intitled to the service and acknowledgments of us all, by his amiable disposition and sublime chivalry. Say Aye, my son, to this same flagellation, and let the devil fetch the devil; leave fear to the coward; for a stout heart quails misfortune, as you very well know.’
To these exhortations Sancho made no reply; but addressing himself to Merlin, with his usual extravagance, ‘Good, your worship, pray tell me, Signior Merlin, the meaning of one thing: a certain courier devil came here with a message to my master, from Signior Montesinos, desiring him to stay in this place until he should come up; for he would teach him a way to disinchant my Lady Dulcinea del Toboso; and hitherto we have seen no such person?’ To this interrogation Merlin replied, ‘That devil, friend Sancho, is an ignorant blockhead, and a very great knave. I sent him hither in quest of your master; not with a message from Montesinos, but from myself; for Montesinos is still in his cave, planning, or rather expecting his disinchantment, the worst of which is still to come; but if he owes you any thing, or you have any business to transact with him, I will bring you face to face wherever you shall appoint. In the mean time, dispatch, and give your consent to this discipline; which, I assure you, will greatly redound to the advantage both of your soul and body: to your soul, from the charity of the undertaking; and to your body, as I know you are of a florid complexion, and will be the better for losing a little blood.’
‘What a number of leeches have we got in this world!’ said Sancho; ‘the very inchanters are physicians; but since every body says so, although I cannot perceive it myself, I am content to give myself three thousand three hundred lashes, on condition that I may give them when and where I shall think proper, without being confined to any certain time, or rate of allowance; and I will endeavour to discharge the debt as soon as possible, that the world may enjoy the beauty of the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso, since, contrary to my former belief, she appears to be really beautiful. I likewise covenant that I shall not be obliged to fetch blood with the scourge, and that in case I should chance to be whipped by the officers of justice[176], every lash so received shall enter into the tale: Item, lest I should commit a mistake in the number, Signior Merlin, who knows every thing, shall take care to reckon them, and give me to understand how far I have fallen short, or exceeded the appointed score.’—‘There will be no occasion to apprize you of the overplus,’ said Merlin; ‘for as soon as the number shall be compleated, the Lady Dulcinea will be disinchanted, and come, out of pure gratitude, to return thanks, and even a recompence to the charitable Sancho for his good work. You need not, therefore, make any scruple about the superplus or the deficiency; nor will Heaven allow me to defraud any person, even of a single hair.’—‘A God’s name, then,’ cried Sancho, ‘I consent in my tribulation; I say, I accept of the penance on the conditions aforesaid.’
Scarce had Sancho pronounced these last words, when the musick of the waits began to play again, and an infinite number of muskets were discharged, while Don Quixote, hanging about Sancho’s neck, imprinted a world of kisses on his cheeks and forehead; the duke and duchess, and all the by-standers, expressed the utmost pleasure, the car began to move, and the beauteous Dulcinea, in passing, bowed to their graces, and made a profound curtsy to Sancho.
About this time the chearful smiling morn advanced; the flowerets of the field, with heads erect, diffused their fragrance; and the liquid chrystal of the rills murmuring among the variegated pebbles, went sliding on to pay its tribute to the rivers, that waited to receive their customary dues: the joyous earth, the splendid firmament, the buxom air, and light unclouded; each singly, and all together joined, prognosticated plainly, that the day, which trod upon Aurora’s skirts, would be serene and fair. The duke and duchess, extremely well satisfied with the chace, as well as with the ingenious and fortunate execution of their design, returned to the castle, with full intention to perform the sequel of their jest, than which no real adventure could have given them more delight.
The duke’s steward was a man of humour and ingenuity, who acted the part of Merlin, and adjusted all the apparatus of the foregoing adventure; for he composed the verses, and directed a page to represent Dulcinea; finally, under the auspices of his lord and lady, he projected another of the most agreeable and strange fancy that could possibly be conceived.
Next day the duchess asking Sancho if he had begun the task of the penance, which he was to undergo for the disinchantment of Dulcinea, he answered in the affirmative, and said, he had that same night given himself five lashes; but when she enquired about the instrument with which they were inflicted, he owned they were applied with his hand. ‘That is rather clapping than lashing,’ replied her grace; ‘and I take it for granted, the sage Merlin will not be content with such delicacy; it will be absolutely necessary that honest Sancho should make a scourge of briars, or use a switch that will make him feel it; for learning is not acquired without pain, and the liberty of such an high-born lady as Dulcinea is not to be purchased for a trifle.’ To this remonstrance Sancho replied, ‘I wish your grace would lend me some convenient whip, or ragged rope’s end, which would do the business without giving me a great deal of pain; for I would have your grace to know, that although I am a labouring man, my flesh has more of the cotton than the mat weed in it; and there is no reason that I should destroy myself for another’s advantage.’—‘In good time be it,’ answered the duchess; ‘to-morrow morning I will give you a scourge that will fit you to an hair, and agree as well with the tenderness of your flesh, as if it was its own brother.’
This affair being adjusted, ‘My lady,’ said Sancho Panza, ‘your highness must know I have writ a letter to my wife Teresa Panza, giving an account of all that hath befallen me since we parted: here it is in my bosom, and wants nothing but a superscription. I wish your grace, in your great understanding, would read it; for, in my mind, it smacks of the governor; I mean, of the manner in which governors ought to write.’—‘And who was the inditer?’ said the duchess. ‘Who should indite it, sinner that I am, but myself!’ answered the squire. ‘Did you likewise write it yourself?’ replied her grace. ‘I did not so much as think of any such matter,’ said Sancho; ‘for the truth is, I can neither read nor write, though I know very well how to set my mark.’—‘Let us see this epistle,’ quoth the duchess, ‘in which, I dare say, you have displayed the quality and extent of your understanding.’
Then Sancho pulling an open letter from his bosom, the duchess took and read it to this effect.
SANCHO’S LETTER TO HIS WIFE TERESA PANZA.
‘If I have been finely lashed, I have been well mounted; If I have obtained a good government, it has cost me a good whipping. This, Teresa, thou wilt not now understand, but shalt learn some other opportunity. Know, Teresa, I am determined thou shalt ride in a coach, which is a resolution pat to the purpose; for any other way of travelling is fit for none but cats. A governor’s lady you shall be, and I would fain see the best of them tread upon thy heels. I have sent thee a green hunting suit, which was a present from my Lady Duchess. Make it up into a petticoat and jacket for our daughter. My master Don Quixote, as I have heard in this country, is a sensible madman, and a diverting fool, and I myself am nothing short of him in these respects. We have been in the cave of Montesinos, and the sage Merlin has pitched upon me to disinchant the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso, who in your parts is called Aldonza Lorenzo; with three thousand three hundred stripes, lacking five, which I am to give myself, she will be as much disinchanted as the mother that bore her. Thou shalt not mention a syllable of this to any person whatsoever; for if you go to seek advice about your own concerns, one will say it is white, and another swear ’tis black.’
A few days hence I shall set out for my government, whither I go with a most outrageous desire of getting money; and I am told, this is the case with all new governors. I will feel the pulse of it, and give thee notice whether or no thou shalt come and live with me.
Dapple is in good health, and sends his most hearty commendations: I believe I shall not forsake him even if they should make me the Grand Turk. My Lady Duchess kisses thy hand a thousand times: return the compliment with two thousand; for, as my master says, Nothing is so reasonable and cheap as good manners. It has not pleased God that I should stumble upon another portmanteau with a hundred crowns, as heretofore; but let that give thee no uneasiness, my dear Teresa, for he is safe who has good cards to play; and what is amiss will come out in the washing of this same government. One thing, I own, gives me great concern: I am told, that if once I taste it, I shall be apt to eat my fingers; and should that be the case, it will be no cheap bargain; though the lame and the paralytick enjoy a sort of canonry in the alms they receive. Wherefore, one way or another, thou wilt certainly be rich and fortunate. The Lord make thee so, as he very well may, and preserve for thy service thy husband the governor.
‘Sancho Panza.
‘From the Duke’s Castle, July 20, 1614.’
The Duchess having read the letter to an end, ‘In two circumstances,’ said she, ‘the honest governor is a little out of the way. First, in saying or insinuating, that the government was bestowed upon him, in return for the stripes he must undergo; whereas he knows, and cannot deny, that when my Lord Duke promised him the island, nobody thought of any such thing as stripes in the world: Secondly, he discovers an avaricious disposition, and I should not like to see him a skin flint; for greediness bursts the bag, and a covetous governor will do very ungoverned justice.’—‘I did not write with that intention,’ answered the squire: ‘and if your ladyship thinks this is not a proper letter, there is nothing to do but tear it and write another, which perhaps will be still worse, if it be left to my own numbskull.’—‘No, no,’ cried the duchess, ‘this will do very well, and must be shewn to the duke.’
Accordingly, repairing to a garden, where they were to dine that day, she communicated Sancho’s epistle to the duke, who perused it with infinite pleasure. Here they went to dinner, and after the cloth was taken away, and they had entertained themselves a good while with the savoury conversation of Sancho, their ears were suddenly invaded with the dismal sound of a fife and a hoarse unbraced drum: all the company were startled at this confused, martial, and melancholy musick, especially Don Quixote, whose emotion would not allow him to sit quiet. With regard to Sancho, all that can be said is, that he was driven by fear to his usual shelter, the sides or skirts of the duchess: for the sound they heard was really and truly horrible and dreary. In the midst of this confusion and surprize, which took hold on all present, they saw two men enter the garden, in mourning-cloaks, so large and long that they trailed upon the ground. These figures were employed in beating two large drums, which were likewise covered with black, and they were accompanied by a fifer as black and dismal as themselves, and followed by a personage of gigantick stature, rolled rather than cloathed in a cassock of the blackest hue, furnished with a train of unmeasurable length. Over this cassock, his body was girded and crossed with a broad black belt, from which depended an immense scymitar, with hilt and sheath of the same sable colour. His face was covered with a black, transparent veil, through which appeared a huge and bushy beard as white as snow; and in walking he kept time to the sound of the drums, with great gravity and composure. In a word, his tallness, his demeanour, his melancholy dress, and his attendants, were sufficient to surprize, and did surprize, all those who beheld him, without knowing the nature of the scheme. With the said solemnity of personification he advanced in order to kneel before the duke, who, with the rest of the company, received him standing; but his grace would by no means hear his address until he rose. The prodigious spectre complied with his desire and stood upright; then unveiling his face, and displaying the largest, whitest, thickest, and most stupendous beard that ever human eyes beheld, he fixed his eyes upon the duke, and in a grave, sonorous voice, extracted and discharged from his ample and dilated chest, pronounced, ‘Most high and mighty prince, I am Trifaldin of the Snowy Beard, squire to the Countess Trifaldi, otherwise distinguished by the appellation of the afflicted duenna: from her I bring a message to your grace, requesting that your magnificence would be pleased to give her leave and opportunity to enter and declare in person her mishap; which is the strangest and the newest that ever the most hapless imagination could conceive; and first of all, she wants to know if the valiant and invincible knight Don Quixote de La Mancha now resides within your castle; for in quest of him, she is come a-foot and fasting from the kingdom of Candaya to these your territories: a circumstance which might and ought to be deemed a miracle, or at least effected by the power of inchantment. She is now at the gate of this fortress or pleasure-house, and only waits for your permission to come in.’
So saying, he hemmed; and with both hands stroaking his beard from top to bottom, waited with great composure for the duke’s reply, which was this: ‘Worthy Squire Trifaldin of the Snowy Beard, many days are passed since we have been apprized of the misfortune of my Lady Countess Trifaldi, on whom the inchanters have intailed the epithet of the afflicted duenna; well may you, stupendous squire, desire her to come in; and here is the valiant knight Don Quixote de La Mancha, from whose generous disposition she may securely promise herself all manner of aid and protection; and you may likewise give her to understand, in my name, that if my assistance be necessary, it shall not be wanting; for I think myself obliged to grant it, as being a knight, to which title is annexed and belongs, that maxim of assisting the fair-sex with all our might, especially widowed, reduced, and afflicted duennas, like her ladyship.’ Trifaldin hearing this declaration, bent his knee to the ground, and making a signal to the fifer and drums to repeat the same note, and resume the same pace with which they entered, he retired from the garden, leaving the whole company astonished at his presence and deportment.
Then the duke turning to Don Quixote, ‘In a word, renowned knight,’ said he, ‘it is not in the power of all the clouds of ignorance and malice to conceal or obscure the light of valour and of virtue. This observation I make, because your excellency has been scarce six days in this castle, when, the melancholy and afflicted come in quest of you from the most distant and sequestered countries, not in coaches or on dromedaries, but a-foot and fasting, confident of finding in that most valiant arm the remedy and cure of their toils and misfortunes: thanks to your illustrious exploits, which pervade and encircle the whole habitable globe.’
‘My Lord Duke,’ replied the knight, ‘I wish that same pious ecclesiastick was here at present; he, who at your grace’s table, the other day, expressed so much ill-will and such an inveterate grudge to knights-errant, that he might see with his own eyes whether or not such knights are of any service in this world; or at least, be fully convinced that the distressed and disconsolate, overwhelmed with extraordinary woes, and enormous misfortunes, do not go for redress to the houses of learned men, to the mansions of parish priests, nor to the knight who never dreamed of going beyond the limits of his own estate; nor to the idle courtier, who would rather enquire about news, that he might have the pleasure of repeating and retailing them, than endeavour to perform actions and exploits for others to perpetuate and record: the redress of grievances, the support of the necessitous, the protection of damsels, and the consolation of widows, are found in no set of people more than in knights-errant; that I am one of these, I return infinite thanks to Heaven, and shall cheerfully undergo whatever danger and disgrace may befall me in the course of such an honourable exercise. Let this duenna approach, and beg what boon she shall desire, I will commit her cause to the strength of my arm, and the intrepid resolution of my aspiring soul.’
The duke and duchess were exceedingly rejoiced to see Don Quixote’s behaviour correspond so well with their design. Sancho interposing, ‘I wish,’ said he, ‘this Madam Duenna may not throw some stumbling-block in the way of my government; for I have heard an apothecary of Toledo, who talked like any goldfinch, observe, that nothing good could happen where duennas interfered. Lord help us! what a spite that same apothecary had to the whole tribe; from whence I conclude that seeing duennas of all qualities and degrees whatsoever are offensive and impertinent, what must those be who are afflicted, which they say is the case with this Trifaldis[177], or three-tailed countess? for, in my country, skirts and tails, and tails and skirts, are the same thing.’—‘Hold your tongue, friend Sancho,’ said Don Quixote: ‘this lady, who is come in quest of me from remote countries, cannot be one of those to whom the apothecary alluded, especially as she is a countess; and when ladies of that rank serve as duennas, it must be under queens and empresses; for in their own houses they are honoured with the title of Ladyship, and have other duennas in their service.’
To this remark Donna Rodriguez, who was present, replied, ‘My lady duchess has duennas in her service, who might have been countesses, had it pleased fortune; but the law’s measure is the king’s pleasure; and let no body speak disrespectfully of duennas, especially of those who are ancient and maidens; for although I am not of that class, I can easily perceive and comprehend the advantage a maiden duenna has over one that is a widow: and he that undertakes to hear us, will have no easy talk to perform.’—‘And yet, for all that,’ replied Sancho, ‘if my barber’s word may be taken, you duennas require so much to be shorn, that—You had better not stir the porridge though it stick to the pot.’—‘The squires are always our enemies,’ answered Donna Rodriguez: ‘they are imps of the antichamber, who are every minute making a jest of us; and except when they are at prayers, which is not often the case, their whole time is spent in back-biting, disinterring our bones, and interring our reputation. But let met tell those moving blocks, that, in spite of all they can do, we will live in the world, aye, in noble families, though we should die of hunger, and clothe our delicate or indelicate bodies with a black shroud, as they cover or shade a dunghill with tapestry on a day of procession. In good faith! if I were allowed, and the time required it, I could demonstrate not only to those who are now present, but likewise to the whole world, that there is no kind of virtue which does not center in a duenna.’—‘I believe there is reason, and a great deal of reason, in what the worthy Donna Rodriguez observes,’ said the duchess; ‘but she must wait for a proper opportunity to appear in behalf of herself and other duennas, and confute the ill opinion of that malicious apothecary, as well as to eradicate those sentiments from the breast of the mighty Sancho Panza.’ To this remark the squire replied: ‘Since the fumes of a governor have expelled the vapours of a squire, I value not all the duennas upon earth a fig’s end.’
They would have proceeded with this duennian conference, had not they heard again the sound of the fife and drums, which announced the entrance of the afflicted duenna. The duchess asked the duke, if it would be proper to advance and receive her, as she was a countess and person of quality. ‘With regard to her being a countess,’ said Sancho, before the duke could reply, ‘it would be right for your graces to go and receive her; but in respect to her being a duenna, I think you should not move a step.’—‘Who taught thee to interfere in such matters?’ said Don Quixote. ‘Who, Signior?’ replied Sancho, ‘I interfere, because I am qualified to interfere, as a squire who has learned all the punctilios of courtesy in the school of your worship, who is the most courteous and best-bred knight that ever the province of courtesy produced; and in these matters, as I have heard your worship observe, the game is as often lost by a card too many as one too few; but a word to the wise is sufficient.’—‘It is even so as Sancho has remarked,’ said the duke; ‘let us first see a specimen of the countess, and from that sample consider what courtesy she deserves.’
At that instant the fifer and drummers entered as before:—and here the author concludes this short chapter, in order to begin another with the sequel of the same adventure, which is among the most remarkable of the whole history.
END OF THE THIRD VOLUME.