Who that had heard this discourse of Don Quixote, would not have taken him for a person of sound judgment, and excellent disposition? but, as we have oftentimes observed, in the progress of this sublime history, his madness never appeared except when the string of chivalry was touched; and on all other subjects of conversation, he displayed a clear and ready understanding; so that every minute his works discredit his judgment, and his judgment his works. But, in this second set of instructions communicated to Sancho, he discovered great ingenuity, and raised his madness and discretion to a most elevated pitch.
Sancho listened with the utmost attention, and endeavoured to retain his advice, like a man who desired to preserve it, as the infallible means to promote the happy birth of that government with which he was so far gone. Don Quixote then proceeded in these terms.
‘With respect to the government of your person and family, Sancho: in the first place, I charge you to be cleanly, and pare your nails; and do not let them grow, like some people whose ignorance teaches them that long nails beautify the hand, as if that additional excrement which they neglect to cut, were really and truly the nail; whereas, it more nearly resembles the talons of a lizard-hunting wind-whiffer, and is a most beastly and extraordinary abuse.
‘You must never appear loose and unbuttoned; for a slovenly dress denotes a disorderly mind; unless that looseness and negligence be the effect of cunning, as we suppose to have been the case with Julius Cæsar.
‘Examine sagaciously the profits of your place, and if they will afford livery to your servants, let it be rather decent and substantial, than gay and tawdry; and be sure to divide it between your servants and the poor. For example, if you can clothe six pages, put three in livery, and clothe as many poor boys; and then you will have pages for Heaven as well as earth: now, this is a method of giving livery, which the vain-glorious could never conceive.
‘Abstain from eating garlick and onions, lest your breath should discover your rusticity.
‘Walk leisurely, speak distinctly, but not so as to seem delighted with your own discourse; for all affectation is disagreeable.
‘Dine sparingly, and eat very little at supper; for the health of the whole body depends upon the operation of the stomach.
‘Be temperate in drinking; and consider, that excess of wine will neither keep a secret nor perform a promise.
‘Beware, Sancho, of chewing on both sides of your mouth, as well as eructing before company.’—‘I do not understand what you mean by eructing,’ said the squire. ‘By eructing,’ answered the knight, ‘I mean belching; which though one of the most expressive, is at the same time one of the most vulgar terms of our language; therefore, people of taste have had recourse to the Latin tongue, saying “To eruct,” instead of “To belch,” and substituting eructations in the room of belchings; and though some people may not understand these terms, it is of small importance; for time and use will introduce and render them intelligible; and this is what we call enriching the language, over which the practice of the vulgar has great influence.’—‘Truly, Signior,’ said Sancho, ‘one of the advices and good counsels which I intend to remember, must be that of not belching; for it is a fault of which I am very often guilty.’—‘Eructing, Sancho, and not belching.’ replied Don Quixote. ‘Eructing it shall be henceforward,’ answered the squire; ‘and I will take care that it shall not be forgotten.’
‘Moreover, Sancho, you must not intermingle so many proverbs with your discourse; for, although proverbs are short sentences, you very often bring them in by the head and shoulders, so preposterously, that they look more like the ravings of distraction than well-chosen apothegms.’
‘That defect God himself must remedy,’ said Sancho; ‘for I have more proverbs by heart, than would be sufficient to fill a large book; and, when I speak, they croud together in such a manner, as to quarrel for utterance; so that my tongue discharges them just as they happen to be in the way, whether they are or are not to the purpose: but I will take care henceforward, to throw out those that may be suitable to the gravity of my office; for, Where there’s plenty of meat, the supper will soon be compleat. He that shuffles does not cut. A good hand makes a short game; and, It requires a good brain, to know when to give and retain.’—‘Courage, Sancho,’ cried Don Quixote, ‘squeeze, tack, and string your proverbs together, here are none to oppose you. My mother whips me, and I whip the top. Here am I exhorting thee to suppress thy proverbs, and in an instant thou hast spewed forth a whole litany of them, which are as foreign from the subject as an old ballad. Remember, Sancho, I do not say that a proverb, properly applied, is amiss; but to throw in, and string together, old saws, helter skelter, renders conversation altogether mean and despicable.
‘When you appear on horseback, do not lean backwards over the saddle, nor stretch out your legs stiffly from the horse’s belly, nor let them hang dangling in a slovenly manner, as if you was upon the back of Dapple; for some ride like jockies, and some like gentlemen.
‘Be very moderate in sleeping; for he who does not rise with the sun, cannot enjoy the day; and observe, O Sancho! Industry is the mother of prosperity; and Laziness, her opposite, never saw the accomplishment of a good wish.
‘The last advice which I shall now give thee, although it does not relate to the ornament of the body, I desire thou wilt carefully remember; for, in my opinion, it will be of as much service to thee, as any I have hitherto mentioned; and this it is: Never engage in a dispute upon pedigree, at least, never compare one with another; for in all comparisons, one must of consequence be preferred to the other; and he whom you have abased will abhor you; nor will you ever reap the least return from him whom you have extolled.
‘Your garb shall consist of breeches and stockings; a full waistcoat, with skirts and hanging sleeves, and a loose coat; but never think, of wearing trunk hose, which neither become gentlemen nor governors.
‘This is all that occurs to me at present, in the way of advice; but, in process of time, my instructions shall be proportioned to thy occasions, provided thou wilt take care to communicate, from time to time, the nature of thy situation.’
‘Signior,’ said Sancho, ‘I plainly perceive that all the advices you have given me, are sound and good, and profitable; but of what signification will they be, if I forget them all? Indeed, as for the matter of not letting my nails grow, or marrying another wife, in case I should have an opportunity, it will not easily slip out of my brain; but as to those other gallimawfries, quirks, and quiddities, I neither do retain them, nor shall I ever retain more of them than of last year’s rain; and therefore, it will be necessary to let me have them in writing; for, though I myself can neither read nor write, I will give them to my confessor, that he may repeat and beat them into my noddle, as there shall be occasion.’
‘Ah, sinner that I am!’ exclaimed Don Quixote, ‘what a scandal it is for governors to be so ignorant, that they can neither read nor write! Thou must know, Sancho, that for a man to be totally devoid of letters, or left-handed, argues either that he was descended from the very lowest and meanest of people, or that he was so wicked and stubborn, that good example and judicious precept have had no effect upon his mind or understanding. This is a great defect in thy character, and I wish thou wouldst learn, if possible, to write thy name.’—‘I can sign my name very well,’ answered Sancho; ‘for, during my stewardship of the brotherhood, I learned to make such letters as are ruddled into packs, and those they tell me stood for my name; besides, I can feign myself lame of my right-hand, and keep a secretary to sign in my room; so that there is a remedy for every thing but death. And I having the cudgel in my hand, will make them do as I command; for he whose father is mayor—you know—and I shall be a governor, which is still better——Let them come and see, but not throw their squibs or slanders at me: otherwise they may come for wool and go home shorn. The house itself will tell, if God loves its master well. A rich man’s folly is wisdom in the world’s eye: now, I being rich as being governor, and liberal withal, as I intend to be, nobody will spy my defects. Make yourself honey, and a clown will have flies. You are worth as much as you have, said my grannam; and, Might overcomes right.’
‘O! God’s curse light on thee,’ cried Don Quixote: ‘threescore thousand devils fly away with thee and thy proverbs! A full hour hast thou been stringing them together, and every one has been like a dagger to my soul. Take my word for it, these proverbs will bring thee one day to the gallows! for these, thy vassals will deprive thee of thy government, or at least enter into associations against thee. Tell me, numscull, where didst thou find this heap of old saws? or how didst thou learn to apply them, wiseacre? It makes me sweat like a day-labourer, to utter one proverb as it ought to be applied.’—‘’Fore God, Sir master of mine,’ replied Sancho, ‘your worship complains of mere trifles. Why the devil should you be in dudgeon with me for making use of my own? I have no other fortune or stock, but proverbs upon proverbs; and now there are no less than four at my tongue’s end, that come as pat to the purpose as pears in a basket; but, for all that, they shall not come forth; for, sagacious silence is Sancho.[185]’—‘That thou art not, Sancho,’ said the knight; ‘far from being sagaciously silent, thou art an obstinate and eternal babbler. Nevertheless, I would fain hear those four proverbs that are so pat to the purpose; for I have been rummaging my whole memory, which I take to be a good one, and not a proverb occurs to my recollection.’—‘What can be better than these?’ replied the squire: ‘Never thrust your thumb between another man’s grinders; and to, Get out of my house! what would you with my wife? there is no reply: Whether the stone goes to the pitcher, or the pitcher to the stone, ’ware pitcher. Now all these fit to a hair. Let no man meddle with a governor or his substitute; otherwise he will suffer, as if he had thrust his finger between two grinders; and even if they should not be grinders, if they are teeth, it makes little difference: then, to what a governor says, there is no reply to be made, no more than to, Get out of my house! what would you with my wife? and as to the stone and the pitcher, a blind man may see the meaning of it: Wherefore, let him who spies a mote in his neighbour’s eye, look first to the beam in his own, that people may not say of him, The dead mare was frighted at the flay’d mule; and your worship is very sensible that a fool knows more in his own house than a wise man in that of his neighbour.’—‘There, Sancho, you are mistaken.’ answered Don Quixote; ‘a fool knows nothing either in his own or his neighbour’s house; because no edifice of understanding can be raised upon the foundation of folly. But here let the subject rest: if thou shouldest misbehave in thy government, thine will be the fault and mine the shame; I console myself, however, in reflecting that I have done my duty in giving thee advice, with all the earnestness and discretion in my power; so that I have acquitted myself in point of promise and obligation. God conduct thee, Sancho, and govern thee in thy government, and deliver me from an apprehension I have, that thou wilt turn the island topsy turvy; a misfortune which I might prevent, by discovering to the duke what thou art, and telling him all that paunch and corpulency of thine is no other than a bag full of proverbs and impertinence.’
‘Signior,’ replied Sancho, ‘if your worship really thinks I am not qualified for that government, I renounce it from henceforward forever. Amen. I have a greater regard for a nail’s breadth of my soul, than my whole body; and I can subsist as bare Sancho, upon a crust of bread and an onion, as well as governor on capons and partridges; for, While we sleep, great and small, rich and poor, are equal all. If your worship will consider, your worship will find, that you yourself put this scheme of government into my head; as for my own part, I know no more of the matter than a bustard; and if you think the governorship will be the means of my going to the devil, I would much rather go as simple Sancho to Heaven, than as a governor to hell fire.’
‘Before God!’ cried the knight, ‘from these last reflections thou hast uttered, I pronounce thee worthy to govern a thousand islands. Thou hast an excellent natural disposition, without which all science is naught: recommend thyself to God, and endeavour to avoid errors in the first intention; I mean, let thy intention and unshaken purpose be, to deal righteously in all thy transactions; for Heaven always favours the upright design. And now let us go in to dinner; for I believe their graces wait for us.’
The original of the history, it is said, relates that the interpreter did not translate this chapter as it had been written by Cid Hamet Benengeli, who bewails his fate in having undertaken such a dry and confined history as that of Don Quixote; which obliged him to treat of nothing but the knight and his squire, without daring to launch out into other more grave and entertaining episodes and digressions. He complained, that to be thus restricted in his hand, his pen, and his invention, to one subject only, so as to be obliged to speak through the mouths of a few persons, was an insupportable toil, that produced no fruit to the advantage of the author; and that in order to avoid this inconvenience, he had in the first part used the artifice of some novels, such as the Impertinent Curiosity, and the Captive, which were detached from the history, although many particulars there recounted are really incidents which happened to Don Quixote; and, therefore, could not be suppressed. It was likewise his opinion, as he observes, that many readers being wholly ingrossed with the exploits of Don Quixote, would not bestow attention upon novels, but pass them over either with negligence or disgust, without adverting to the spirit and artifice they contain: a truth which would plainly appear, were they to be published by themselves, independent of the madness of Don Quixote, and the simplicities of Sancho. He would not therefore insert in the second part any novels, whether detached or attached; but only a few episodes that seem to spring from those very incidents which truth represents; and even these, as brief and concise as they could possibly be related: and since he includes and confines himself within the narrow limits of narration, though his abilities and understanding are sufficient to treat the whole universe, he hopes that his work will not be depreciated; and begs he may receive due praise, not for what he has written, but for what he has left unwrit. Then the history proceeds in this manner.
In the evening that succeeded the afternoon on which the knight admonished his squire, he gave him his admonitions in writing, that he might find some person to read them occasionally; but, scarce had Sancho received, than he dropped them by accident, and they fell into the hands of the duke, who communicated the paper to the duchess, and both admired anew the madness and ingenuity of Don Quixote. Revolving to prosecute the jest, they, that very evening, dismissed Sancho with a large retinue to the place, which he supposed to be an island; the execution of the whole scheme being left to the sagacity of the duke’s steward, who was a person of great humour and discretion; for without discretion there can be no humour. He it was who acted the part of the Countess Trifaldi, with that pleasantry above related. Thus qualified, and in consequence of the instructions he received from their graces touching his behaviour to Sancho, he had performed his part to admiration. It happened, then, that Sancho no sooner beheld the said steward, than he traced in his countenance the very features of Trifaldi; and turning to his master, ‘Signior,’ said he, ‘the devil may fly away with me from this spot where I stand, as an honest man, and a believer, if your worship will not confess that the face of the duke’s steward here present, is the very same with that of the afflicted duenna!’ Don Quixote, having attentively considered the steward’s countenance, replied, ‘There is no occasion for the devil’s running away with thee, Sancho, either as an honest man or a believer; (indeed, I cannot guess thy meaning) for, sure enough, this steward’s face is the very same with that of the afflicted duenna; but, nevertheless, the steward and the duenna cannot possibly be the same person: that would imply a downright contradiction, and this is no time to set on foot such enquiries, which would entangle us in the maze of inextricable labyrinths. Believe me, friend, we ought to beseech the Lord very earnestly to deliver us from those two evils of wicked wizzards, and vile inchanters.’—‘But this is no joke,’ answered Sancho; ‘for I heard him speak a little while ago, and methought the very voice of Trifaldi sounded in mine ears. At present, however, I will hold my tongue; but, nevertheless, I will keep a strict eye over him from henceforward, in order to discover some other mark either to destroy or confirm my suspicion.’—‘Do so, Sancho,’ said Don Quixote; ‘and be sure to send me notice of the discoveries thou shalt make in this particular, as well as of every thing that shall happen to thee in the course of thine administration.’
At length Sancho departed with a numerous attendance; he was dressed like a gownman, with a long cloak of murrey-coloured camblet, and a cap of the same stuff: he rode upon a mule, with short stirrups; and was followed by Dapple, who, by the duke’s express order, was adorned with rich trappings of flaming silk; so that the governor from time to time turned about his head to contemplate the finery of his ass, with whose company he was so well content, that he would not have exchanged it for that of the German emperor.
At parting, he kissed the hands of the duke and duchess; and asked the benediction of his master, which was given with tears, and received with a whimper.
Courteous reader, suffer honest Sancho to depart in peace and happy time, and lay thy account with two bushels of laughter, which will proceed from thy knowing how he behaved himself in office; and in the mean time, attend to what befel his master this very night; an incident which, if it cannot excite thy laughter, will, at least, induce thee to grin like a monkey; for the adventures of Don Quixote must be celebrated, either with mirth or admiration.
It is related, then, that Sancho was no sooner gone than his master became solitary; and had it been possible, would have revoked the commission, and deprived him of his government; but the duchess being apprized of his melancholy, desired to know the cause, observing, that if it proceeded from Sancho’s absence, there was plenty of squires, duennas, and damsels, in the family, who should serve him to the satisfaction of his utmost wish. ‘True it is, my Lady Duchess,’ replied Don Quixote, ‘I feel the absence of Sancho; but that is not the principal cause of my seeming sadness; and of all the generous proffers of your excellency, I chuse to accept nothing but the good-will with which they are made; for the rest, I humbly beg your excellency will consent, and permit me to wait upon myself in my own apartment.’—‘Truly,’ said the duchess, ‘that must not be; Signior Don Quixote shall be served by four of my damsels, as beautiful as roses.’—‘With regard to me,’ answered the knight, ‘they will not be roses, but thorns to prick my very soul; and, therefore, I will as soon fly as permit them, or any thing like them, to enter my chamber. If your grace would continue to bestow your favours, which, I own, I do not deserve, suffer me to be private, and make use of my own doors, that I may raise a wall between my passions and my chastity; a custom which I would not forego for all the liberality which your highness is pleased to display in my behalf; and, in a word, I will rather sleep in my cloaths than consent to be undressed by any person whatsoever.’—‘Enough, enough, Signior Don Quixote,’ answered her grace; ‘you may depend upon it, I shall give such orders, that not even a fly, much less a damsel, shall enter your apartment; I am not a person to discompose the decency of Signior Don Quixote, among whose virtues, I perceive, that of decorum shines with superior lustre. Your worship may dress and undress yourself alone, after your own fashion, when and how you please, without lett or impediment; for in your chamber you will find every utensil suited to those who sleep under lock and key, without being obliged to open upon any necessary occasion. Long live the great Dulcinea del Toboso, and may her fame be extended around the whole circumference of the earth, seeing she is worthy to be beloved by a knight of such valour and chastity; and may propitious Heaven infuse into the heart of Sancho Panza, our governor, a promptitude to finish his flagellation, that the world may soon re-enjoy the beauty of such an excellent lady!’ To this compliment the knight replied; ‘Your highness hath spoken like yourself; for from the mouths of such benevolent ladies nothing evil can proceed; and Dulcinea will be more fortunate, and more renowned through the world, by your grace’s approbation, than by all the applause of the greatest orators upon earth.’
‘Well then, Signior Don Quixote,’ answered the duchess, ‘it is now supper time, and the duke probably stays for us; let us go and sup, therefore, that you may be a-bed betimes; for your journey to Candaya was not so short, but that it must have fatigued your worship in some measure.’—‘Madam,’ replied Don Quixote, ‘I feel no sort of weariness; and I swear to your excellency, that in my life I never crossed a better or easier going steed than Clavileno; nor can I conceive what should induce Malambruno to deprive himself of such a light and gentle carriage, by burning it without scruple or hesitation.’—‘As to that particular,’ said the duchess, ‘we may suppose, that repenting of the injury he had done to the countess and her company, as well as to other people, and being sorry for the mischief he must certainly have produced as a wizzard and inchanter, he resolved to destroy all the instruments of his art; as the principal of these, which gave him the greatest uneasiness, because it has transported him from place to place in his operations, he burned Clavileno, that by means of his ashes, and the trophy of the parchment, the valour of Don Quixote might be eternized.’
The knight made fresh acknowledgments of her grace’s politeness, and after supper retired to his apartment, without suffering any person to accompany or minister unto his occasions; so much was he afraid of meeting with trials, which might provoke or compel him to forego the chastity and decorum which he had hitherto preserved for his mistress Dulcinea, ever schooling his imagination with the exemplary virtue of Amadis, the flower and mirrour of knight-errantry.
Having locked the door behind him, he undressed himself by the light of two wax tapers; and in the course of this occupation (O misfortune, ill decreed to such a personage!) forth broke—not a volley of sighs, or any thing else to discredit the purity of his politeness, but about two dozen of stitches in one stocking; which, being thus torn, resembled a lattice: a mishap which was the source of extreme affliction to our worthy Signior; who, on this occasion, would have given an ounce of silver for a drachm of green silk, for his stockings were of that colour.
Here Benengeli exclaims, ‘O poverty, poverty! I know not what should induce the great Cordovan poet to call thee an holy unfrequented gift. I, though a Moor, am very sensible, from my correspondence with Christians, that holiness consists in charity, humility, faith, poverty, and obedience; yet, nevertheless, I will affirm, that he must be holy indeed, who can sit down content with poverty, unless we mean that kind of poverty to which one of the greatest saints alludes, when he says, “Possess all things as not possessing them,” and this is called spiritual poverty. But thou second poverty, which is the cause I spoke of, why wouldst thou assault gentlemen of birth rather than any other class of people? Why dost thou compel them to cobble their shoes, and wear upon their coats one button of silk, another of hair, and a third of glass? Why must their ruffs be generally yellow and ill starched?’ (By the bye, from this circumstance we learn the antiquity of ruffs and starch[186].) But, thus he proceeds: ‘O wretched man of noble pedigree! who is obliged to administer cordials to his honour, in the midst of hunger and solitude, by playing the hypocrite with a toothpick, which he affects to use in the street, though he has eat nothing to require that act of cleanliness; wretched he! I say, whose honour is ever apt to be startled, and thinks that every body, at a league’s distance, observes the patch upon his shoe, his greasy hat, and thread-bare cloak, and even the hunger that predominates in his belly!’
All these reflections occurred to Don Quixote when he tore his stockings; but he consoled himself for the misfortune, when he perceived that Sancho had left behind him a pair of travelling-boots, which he resolved to wear next day: finally, he crept into bed, where he lay pensive and melancholy, as well for the absence of Sancho, as for the irreparable misfortune of his stocking, which he would have gladly mended, even with silk of a different colour; one of the greatest marks of misery which a gentleman can exhibit in the course of his tedious poverty. After having extinguished the lights, he found the weather so hot that he could not sleep: he therefore arose again, and opened the casement of a great window that looked into a fine garden; then it was, that perceiving and hearing people walking and talking together, he began to listen attentively, while those below spoke so loud that he heard the following dialogue.
‘Do not, O Emerencia, press me to sing; for well thou knowest, that from the moment this stranger entered the castle, and mine eyes beheld his merit, instead of singing, I can do nothing but weep; besides, my lady’s sleep is rather slight than profound; and I would not for all the wealth in the world, that her grace should find us here. Moreover, suppose she should still sleep on, without waking, vain would be my song, unless it should awake, and attract the attention of this new Æneas, who is arrived in my territories, in order to leave me forlorn.’—‘Let not these suppositions have any weight with you, my dear Altisidora,’ replied another voice; ‘the duchess is doubtless asleep, and every body in the house, except the lord of your heart, and watchman of your soul, who must certainly be awake, for I just now heard him open the casement in his apartment; sing, therefore, my disastrous friend, in a low, sweet, and plaintive tone, to the sound of thy harp; and should the duchess overhear us, we will lay the blame upon the heat of the weather.’—‘That is not the cause of my hesitation, O Emerencia,’ replied Altisidora; ‘but, I am afraid that my song will disclose the situation of my heart, and I myself be censured by those who never felt the almighty power of Love, as a light and liquorish damsel; but, come what will, better have an hot face than an heavy heart.’ At that instant an harp was ravishingly touched, and Don Quixote hearing the sound, was struck with amazement; for his imagination was instantly filled with an infinity of similar adventures of rails and gardens, serenades, courtships and swoonings, which he had read in his vain books of chivalry; and he concluded that some damsel of the duchess was enamoured of him, but that modesty compelled her to keep her inclinations secret. Possessed of this notion, he began to be afraid of his virtue: but he resolved, in his own mind, to hold out to the last; and, recommending himself, with all his soul and spirit, to his mistress Dulcinea del Toboso, determined to listen to the song. With a view, therefore, to let them know he was there, he pretended to sneeze, a circumstance which not a little pleased the damsels, who desired nothing so much as that Don Quixote should hear them. Then the harp being tuned, Altisidora, after a flourish, began the following ditty.
Here ended the song of the hapless Altisidora; and here began the horror of the courted Don Quixote; who, fetching a heavy sigh, said within himself—‘What an unfortunate errant am I, whom no damsel can behold without being enamoured of my person! and how hapless is the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso, who cannot enjoy my incomparable constancy, without a rival! Queens, what would you have? Empresses, why do you persecute her beauty? Damsels of fifteen, why do you molest such virtue? Leave, leave, I say, that wretched lady, to taste, enjoy, and triumph, in the lot which love hath decreed her, by subduing my heart, and captivating my soul. Take notice, enamoured tribe, that to Dulcinea alone I am sugar paste, but flint to all the rest of her sex: to her I am honey; but gall and bitterness to such as you. In my eye, Dulcinea alone is beauteous, wise, gay, chaste, and well-born; but all others are homely, foolish, idle, and of humble birth. To be her slave, and her’s alone, nature has thrown me into the world; Altisidora may weep or sing; and that lady may despair, on whose account I was pummelled in the castle of the inchanted Moor; Dulcinea’s I am resolved to be, boiled or roasted, neat, chaste, and well-bred, in spite of all the witchcraft upon earth.’ So saying, he shut the casement with a flap, and retired to bed, in as much anxiety and concern as if some great misfortune had befallen him. There, then, we will leave him for the present, as we are summoned by the mighty Panza, who is impatient to begin his famous administration.
O Thou! perpetual explorer of the antipodes, torch of nature, eye of Heaven, and agreeable motive for wine-cooling jars, Thymbrius here, Phœbus there, archer in one place, physician in another, father of poetry, and inventor of musick; thou who always risest, but never settest, although thou seemest to set. Thee I invoke, O sun! by whose assistance man is by man engendered; thee I implore, that thou would’st favour and enlighten the obscurity of my genius, and enable me to write with precision an account of the great Sancho Panza’s administration: for, without thy aid, I find myself lukewarm, feeble, and confused.
To begin, then: Sancho, with his whole retinue, arrived at a town containing about a thousand inhabitants, one of the best in the duke’s possession; which they told Sancho was called the Island Barataria, either because the name of the place was really Barataria, or because he had very cheaply purchased the government[187]. When he reached the gates of the town, which was walled, the magistrates came forth to receive him, the bells were set a ringing, and the inhabitants, with expressions of universal joy, conducted him with vast pomp to the great church, in order to return thanks to Heaven for his safe arrival; then, with some ridiculous ceremonies, they delivered to him the keys of the town, and admitted him as perpetual governor of the Island Barataria.
The equipage, matted beard, corpulency, and diminutive stature of the new governor, furnished food for admiration to every body who did not know the juggle of the contrivance; aye, and even to those acquainted with the mystery, who were not a few. In fine, they carried him from the church to the town-hall, and placing him upon the bench, the duke’s steward addressed himself to the governor in these words: ‘It is an ancient custom in this famous island, my lord governor, that he who comes to take possession of it is obliged to answer some difficult and intricate question that shall be put to him, and by his response the inhabitants feel the pulse of their new governor’s genius, according to which they rejoice or repine at his arrival.’ While the steward pronounced this address, Sancho was contemplating a number of large letters written upon the wall that fronted his tribunal, and as he could not read, he desired to know the meaning of that painting on the wall. ‘In that place, my lord,’ replied the steward, ‘is written and recorded, the day on which your excellency has taken possession of this island, for the inscription runs, On such a day and such a month, Signior Don Sancho Panza took possession of this island, and long may he enjoy the government thereof.’—‘And whom do they call Don Sancho Panza?’ said the governor. ‘Who, but your excellency,’ answered the steward; ‘for this island never saw any other Panza than him who sits on that tribunal.’—‘Take notice, then, brother,’ replied Sancho, ‘that Don belongs not to me, nor did it ever belong to any of my generation. Simple Sancho is my name; so was my father called, and so my grandfather; and they were all Panzas, without addition of Don or Donna; and I begin to imagine there are as many Dons as stones in this island; but no more of that: God knows my meaning; and peradventure, if my government lasts above three days, I shall weed out these Dons, which, from their swarms, must be as troublesome as vermin. But pray, Mr. Steward, proceed with your question, which I shall answer to the best of my understanding, whether the townsmen should repine or not repine.’
At that instant two men entered the hall, one in the habit of a labouring man, and the other a taylor with shears in his hand, who, approaching the bench, ‘My lord governor,’ said he, ‘this countryman and I are come before your lordship about an affair which I am going to explain. This honest man comes yesterday to my shop—for, saving your presence, I am an examined taylor, God be praised! and putting a remnant of cloth in my hand, “Gaffer,” said he, “is there stuff enough here to make me a cap?” I having handled the piece, replied, “Yes.” Now he supposing, as I suppose, and to be sure it was a right supposition, that I wanted to cabbage part of the stuff, grounding his suspicion on his own deceit, and the bad character of us taylors, desired I would see if there was enough for two caps; and I, guessing his thoughts, answered, “Yes.” And so my gentleman, persisting in his first and evil intention, went on adding cap to cap; and I proceeded to answer Yes upon Yes, until the number increased to five caps. This very moment he called for them; and when I produced them, he not only refused to pay me for my work, but even demanded that I should either restore the cloth, or pay him the price of it.’—‘Is this really the case, brother?’ said Sancho. ‘Yes, my lord,’ replied the countryman; ‘but I beg your lordship would order him to shew what sort of caps he has made.’—‘With all my heart,’ cried the taylor; who immediately pulling out his hand from under his cloak, produced five small caps fixed upon the tops of his four fingers and thumb; saying, ‘Here are the five caps which this honest man desired me to make; as I shall answer to God and my own conscience, there is not a scrap of the stuff remaining; and I am willing to submit the work to the inspection of the masters of the company.’ All the people in court laughed at the number of caps, and the novelty of the dispute, which Sancho having considered for a few moments, ‘Methinks,’ said he, ‘this suit requires no great discussion, but may be equitably determined out of hand: and therefore my determination is, that the taylor shall lose his work, and the countryman forfeit his cloth; and that the caps shall be distributed among the poor prisoners, without farther hesitation.’
If the sentence he afterwards passed upon the herdsman’s purse excited the admiration of the spectators, this decision provoked their laughter: nevertheless, they executed the orders of their governor, before whom two old men now presented themselves, one of them having a cane, which he used as a walking-staff. The other making up to the governor, ‘My lord,’ said he, ‘some time ago, I lent this man ten crowns of gold, to oblige and assist him in an emergency, on condition that he should pay them upon demand; and for a good while I never asked my money, that I might not put him to greater inconvenience in repaying than that which he felt when he borrowed the sum; but as he seemed to neglect the payment entirely, I have demanded the money again and again, and he not only refuses to refund, but also denies that I ever lent him the ten crowns; or, if I did, he says he is sure they were repaid: now, I having no witnesses to prove the loan, nor he evidence of the re-payment, for indeed they never were repaid, I entreat your lordship to take his oath; and if he swears the money was returned, I here forgive him the debt, in the presence of God.’—‘What have you to say to this charge, honest gaffer with the staff?’ said Sancho. ‘My lord,’ replied the senior, ‘I confess he lent me the money; and since he leaves the matter to my oath, if your lordship will lower your rod of justice, I will make affidavit, that I have really and truly returned, and repaid the sum I borrowed.’ The governor accordingly lowering his wand, the defendant desired the plaintiff to hold his cane until he should make oath, because it incumbered him; then laying his hand upon the cross of the rod, he declared that the other had indeed lent him those ten crowns which he now demanded; but that he, the borrower, had returned them into the lender’s own hand, and he supposed he dunned him in this manner, because he had forgot that circumstance. This oath being administered, the great governor asked what farther the creditor had to say to the allegation of the other party. And he answered, that doubtless the defendant had spoke the truth; for he looked upon him as an honest man, and a good Christian; and that as he himself must have forgot the particulars of the payment, he would never demand it from thenceforward. Then the defendant, taking back his cane, and making his obeisance, quitted the court; while Sancho seeing him retire in this manner, and perceiving the resignation of the plaintiff, hung down his head a little, and laying the fore-finger of his right-hand on one side of his nose, continued in this musing posture for a very small space of time: then, raising his head, he ordered them to call back the old man with the staff, who had retired: he was accordingly brought before Sancho; who said to him, ‘Honest friend, lend me that staff, I have occasion for it.’—‘With all my heart, my lord,’ replied the elder, reaching it to the judge: then Sancho took and delivered it to the plaintiff, saying: ‘Now, go your ways, a God’s name! you are fully paid.’—‘How, my lord!’ said the old man, ‘is this cane then worth ten crowns of Gold?’—‘Yes,’ replied the governor, ‘otherwise I am the greatest dunce in nature: and now it shall appear, whether or not I have a noddle sufficient to govern a whole kingdom.’ So saying, he ordered the cane to be broke in publick; and when, in consequence of his command, it was split asunder, ten crowns of gold were found in the heart of it, to the astonishment of all the spectators, who looked upon their new governor as another Solomon. When he was asked how he could conceive that the money was in the cane, he answered, that seeing the deponent give his staff to the other party before he made oath, then hearing him declare that he had really and truly returned the money; and lastly, perceiving that after his deposition he took back the staff, it came into his head that the money was concealed within the cane. And in this instance, we see that governors, though otherwise fools, are sometimes directed in their decisions by the hand of God: besides, Sancho had heard such a story told by the curate of his village, and his memory was so tenacious, in retaining every thing he wanted to remember, that there was not such another in the whole island. Finally, the two old men went away: the one overwhelmed with shame, and the other miraculously repaid; the by-standers were astonished; and he whose province it was to record the sayings, actions, and conduct of Sancho, could not determine in his own mind, whether he should regard and report him as a simpleton, or a sage.
Plate VI: Governor Sancho Panza and the Woman.
This suit being determined, a woman came into court, holding fast by a man habited like a rich herdsman, and exclaiming with great vociferation, ‘Justice, my lord governor, justice! which, if I find not on earth, I will go in quest of to heaven! My lord governor of my soul, this wicked man has forced me in the middle of a field, and made use of my body as if it had been a dirty dishclout: alack, and a-well-a-day! he has robbed me of that which I had preserved for three and twenty years, in spite of Moors and Christians, natives and foreigners: and have I, who was always as hard as a cork-tree, maintained my virtue entire, like a salamander in the midst of flames, or wool among brambles, to be handled by the clean hands of this Robin Goodfellow?’—‘That must be enquired into,’ said Sancho, ‘whether the gallant’s hands be clean or no.’ Then turning to the man, he asked what he had to say to the complaint of that woman? To this question the culprit replied, with great perturbation, ‘My lord, I am a poor herdsman who deal in swine, and this morning went to market, saving your presence, with some hogs, and the duties and extortions, and one thing and another, ran away with almost all they were worth; and so, in my return, I lighted on this honest damsel on the road; and the devil, who will always meddle and make, and have a finger in every pye, yoked us together. I paid her handsomely; but she, not satisfied, laid fast hold on me, nor would she quit her hold until she had brought me hither: she alledges I forced her; but, by the oath I have taken, or am to take, she lyes; and this is the whole truth, without the least crumb of prevarication.’ Then the governor asked if he had any money about him; and when he owned he had a leathern purse with twenty ducats in his bosom, Sancho ordered him to pull it out, and deliver the whole to the complainant. The man obeyed this command with fear and trembling; the woman received this money, and making a thousand curtsies to all the by-standers, prayed God would preserve the life and health of my lord governor, who took such care of damsels and orphans in necessity. So saying, she went away, holding the purse with both hands, though not before she had examined the contents. Scarce had she quitted the court, when Sancho said to the herdsman, who stood with tears in his eyes, sending his heart, and many a long look after his purse, ‘Harkye, friend! go after that woman, and take the purse from her, either by fair means or force, and bring it hither to me.’ This command was not imposed upon one that was either deaf or doating; for he darted like lightning, in order to put it in execution: while all the spectators waited in suspence to see the issue of the suit. In a little time the parties returned, but more closely engaged, and clinging faster together than before; she, with her petticoat tucked up, and the purse in her lap; and he struggling, to no purpose, to take it from her; so vigorously did she defend her acquisition, crying aloud, ‘Justice, in the name of God and his creatures! Take notice, my lord governor, of the impudence and presumption of this miscreant, who, in the very face of the people, and the middle of the street, wanted to rob me of the purse which I received by your lordship’s decree.’—‘Has he taken it from you, then?’ said the governor. ‘Taken it from me!’ replied the wench; ‘I’ll sooner part with my life than with my purse. I should be a precious ninny indeed! otherguise cats must scratch my beard, and not such a pitiful muckworm as he. Pincers and hammers, mallets and chissels, should not tear it out of my clutches; no, not the claws of a lion; my soul and body shall rather be tore asunder.’—‘It is even so,’ said the man; ‘I submit as the weaker vessel, and own I have not strength enough to recover my purse.’ He quitted her accordingly. Then the governor said to the woman, ‘Come hither, my virtuous and spirited dame; let me see thy purse.’ Which, when she delivered it, he restored to the man; and turning to the wench, who was too forceful to be forced, ‘Sister of mine,’ quoth he, ‘if you had exerted the same vigour and perseverance, or even half so much, in preserving your chastity, as you have shewn in defending the purse, the force of Hercules would not have forced you. Be gone, a-God’s name! be gone, I say, with a vengeance, and never more appear in this island, or within six leagues of it, on pain of receiving two hundred stripes. Be gone immediately, you chattering, shameless impostor!’ The woman, terrified at his menaces, sneaked off, hanging her head, and discontented; and the governor spoke to the man in these words: ‘Honest friend, get you home with your money, in the name of God; and unless you are inclined to lose it again, from henceforward avoid all temptations to yoke with any woman whatsoever.’
The herdsman thanked him as sheepishly as he could, and went away, and the audience were struck with admiration afresh, at the judgment and decisions of their new governor; every circumstance of which being recorded by his historiographer, was immediately communicated to the duke, who waited for the account with the utmost impatience.
But here let honest Sancho rest a little; for we are summoned in all haste by his master, who is greatly disturbed by the musick of Altisidora.
We left the great Don Quixote wrapped up in those cogitations that were suggested by the musick of the enamoured damsel Altisidora. With these companions he crept into bed; but, as if they had been fleas and vermin, they would not suffer him to sleep, or indeed enjoy a moment’s repose, especially when reinforced with the reflection of his wounded stocking. But as time is so light and nimble, that no rub can retard his career, he galloped along upon the hours, and soon ushered in the morning, which was no sooner beheld by the knight, than he forsook the gentle down, and being the reverse of lazy, dressed himself in his chamoy suit. He put on his travelling boots to conceal the misfortune of his hose; threw his scarlet cloak over his shoulder, cased his head in a green velvet cap trimmed with silver, slung his trusty hanging sword in his buff-belt, took up his large rosary, which always depended from his wrist, and with great port and solemnity went forth into the hall, where the duke and duchess, already dressed, stayed for him. As he passed through a gallery, he perceived Altisidora, and the other maiden her friend, who stood waiting for his appearance; and he was no sooner beheld by the love-sick damsel, than she pretended to faint away; while her companion received her in her arms, and with all possible dispatch began to unclasp her bosom. The knight seeing her fall, approached the place where they were, saying, ‘I know whence these accidents proceed.’ And the companion replied, ‘I do not know whence; for Altisidora is the healthiest damsel of the whole family, and I never knew her so much as fetch a sigh from the first minute of our acquaintance. Ill betide all the knights-errant in the world, if they are all so shy and scornful. Signior Don Quixote, I wish your worship would leave the place; for this poor girl will not come to herself while you stand here.’ To this entreaty the knight replied, ‘Be so good, Madam, as to order a lute to be left in my apartment; and, at night, I will, to the best of my power, console this unfortunate damsel: for a speedy explanation in the beginning, is often an effectual cure for those who are indiscreetly in love.’ So saying, he went away, that he might not be observed in conference with the damsels; and scarce was he gone, when the swooning Altisidora coming to herself, said to her companion, ‘It will be requisite to leave the lute; for, doubtless, Don Quixote intends to entertain us with musick, which cannot be bad if he is the performer.’ Then they went and gave an account of what had passed, and in particular of the lute, to the duchess, who was rejoiced beyond measure, and concerted with her lord and her women, how to execute another joke which should be more merry than mischievous. This being accordingly contrived, they with great glee waited for night; and it came posting along in the same pace that brought in the day, which their graces spent in savoury discourse with Don Quixote. On this day the duchess really and truly dispatched one of her pages, who acted the part of the enchanted Dulcinea in the wood, to Tereza Panza, with her husband’s letter, and a bundle, which he had left on purpose to be sent home; and the messenger had particular orders to bring back a circumstantial detail of every thing that should pass between him and the governor’s lady.
This step being taken, and the hour of eleven at night arrived, Don Quixote found a lute in his apartment; this he tuned, and having opened the window, perceived people walking below in the garden: he immediately ran over the strings of his instrument, making as good a prelude as he could, then hemming and clearing his pipes, he with an hoarse, though not untuneful voice, sung the following sonnet, which he had that very day composed.