To think the affairs of this life will always remain in the same posture, is a wild supposition; on the contrary, every thing goes in a round; I mean, goes round. Spring succeeds winter, summer follows spring, autumn comes after summer, and winter comes in the rear of autumn; then spring resumes its verdure, and time turns round on an incessant wheel. The life of man alone runs lightly to its end, unlike the circle of time, without hope of renewal, except in another life, which knows no bounds. Thus moralizes Cid Hamet, the Mahometan philosopher; for the knowledge of the frailty and instability of the present life, together with the eternal duration of that which we expect, many, without the light of faith, by natural instinct have attained. But here our author makes the observation on account of the celerity with which Sancho’s government was finished, consumed, destroyed, and dissolved into smoke and vapour.
This poor governor being a-bed on the seventh night of his administration, not crammed with bread and wine, but fatigued with sitting in judgment, passing sentence, and making statutes and regulations; and sleep, maugre and in despight of hunger, beginning to weigh down his eye-lids, his ears were saluted with a terrible noise of bells and cries, as if the whole island had been going to wreck.
Sitting up in his bed, he listened attentively, in hope of comprehending the meaning and cause of such a mighty uproar: however, he not only failed in his expectation; but the noise of the cries and the bells being reinforced by that of an infinite number of drums and trumpets, he remained more terrified, confounded, and aghast, than ever. Then starting up, he put on his slippers, on account of the dampness of the ground; though without wrapping himself up in his morning-gown, or in any other sort of apparel; and opening the door of his apartment, saw above twenty persons running through the gallery, with lighted torches, and naked swords in their hands, exclaiming aloud, and all together, ‘Arm, arm, my Lord Governor, arm! a vast number of the enemy has landed on the island; and we are lost and undone, unless protected by your valour and activity.’
With this clamour, fury, and disturbance, they rushed towards Sancho, who stood astonished and perplexed at what he saw and heard, and when they came up to the spot, one of them accosting him, ‘Arm, my lord,’ said he, ‘unless you want to perish, and see the whole island destroyed.’—‘For what should I arm?’ replied Sancho; ‘I neither know the use of arms, nor can I give you protection. These matters had better be left to my master Don Quixote; who, in the turning of a straw, would dispatch the whole affair, and put every thing in safety; but, for me, as I am a sinner to God, I understand nothing of these hurly-burlys!’—‘How! my Lord Governor,’ cried another, ‘what despondence is this? Put on your armour, Signior; here we have brought arms offensive and defensive; come forth to the market-place, and be our guide and our general, seeing of right that place belongs to you, as being our governor.’—‘Arm me, then, a God’s name!’ replied Sancho. At that instant they took two large bucklers they had brought along with them, and putting over his shirt (for they would not give him time to clothe himself) one buckler before and another behind, they pulled his arms through certain holes they had made in the targets, and fastened them well together with cords, in such a manner, that the poor governor remained quite inclosed, and boarded up as straight as a spindle, without being able to bend his knees, or move one single step; and in his hands they put a lance, with which he supported himself as he stood. Having cooped him up in this manner, they desired him to march out, and conduct and animate his people; in which case he being the north star, their lanthorn, and Lucifer, their affairs would be brought to a prosperous issue. ‘How should I march, unfortunate wight that I am,’ said Sancho, ‘when my very knee pans have not room to play, so much am I cramped by those boards, which are squeezed into my very flesh? Your only way is to take me up in your arms, and lay me across, or set me upright in some postern, which I will defend either with this lance or this carcase.’—‘Come, my Lord Governor,’ replied the other, ‘you are more hampered by fear than by your bucklers. Make haste, and exert yourself, for it grows late; the enemies swarm, the noise increases, and the danger is very pressing.’
In consequence of this persuasion and reproach, the poor governor endeavoured to move, and down he came to the ground with such a fall that he believed himself split to pieces. There he lay like a tortoise covered with its shell, or a flitch of bacon between two trays; or, lastly, like a boat stranded with her keel uppermost. Yet his fall did not excite the compassion of those unlucky wags; on the contrary, extinguishing their torches, they renewed the clamour, and repeated the alarm with such hurry and confusion, trampling upon the unhappy Sancho, and bestowing a thousand strokes upon the bucklers, that if he had not gathered, and shrunk himself up, with drawing his head within the targets, the poor governor would have passed his time but very indifferently; shrunk as he was within that narrow lodging, he sweated all over with fear and consternation, and heartily recommended himself to God, that he might be delivered from the danger that encompassed him. Some stumbled, and others fell over him; nay, one of the party stood upon him for a considerable time, and thence, as from a watch-tower, gave orders to the army, exclaiming with a loud voice, ‘This way, my fellow-soldiers; for here the enemy make their chief effort! Guard this breach; shut that gate; down with those scaling ladders; bring up the fire-pots, with the kettles of melted pitch, rosin, and boiling oil; barricado the streets with woolpacks!’ In a word, he named with great eagerness, all the implements, instruments, and munition of war, used in the defence of a city assaulted; while the bruised and battered Sancho, who heard the din, and suffered grievously, said within himself, ‘O! would it please the Lord that the island were quickly lost, that I might see myself either dead or delivered from this distress!’ Heaven heard his petition, and when he least expected such relief, his ears were saluted with a number of voices, crying, ‘Victory! victory! the enemy is overcome! Rise, my Lord Governor, and enjoy your conquest; and divide the spoil taken from the foe by the valour of your invincible arm.’
The afflicted Sancho, with a plaintive voice, desired them to lift him up; and when they helped him to rise and set him on his legs again, ‘I wish,’ said he, ‘the enemy I have conquered were nailed to my forehead. I want to divide no spoils; but I beg, and supplicate some friend, if any such I have, to bring me a draught of wine; and that he will wipe me dry of this sweat which has turned me into water.’ They accordingly wiped him clean, brought the wine, untied the bucklers, and seated him upon his bed, where he fainted away through fear, consternation, and fatigue. Those concerned in the joke now began to be sorry for having laid it on so heavy; but Sancho’s recovery moderated their uneasiness at his swooning. He asked what it was o’clock; and they answered it was day-break: then, without speaking another syllable, he began to dress himself, in the most profound silence; and all present gazed upon him with looks of expectation, impatient to know the meaning of his dressing himself so earnestly. At length, having put on his cloaths very leisurely, for his bruises would not admit of precipitation, he hied him to the stable, attended by all the by-standers, where, advancing to Dapple, he embraced him affectionately, and gave him the kiss of peace upon the forehead, saying, while the tears trickled from his eyes, ‘Come hither, my dear companion! my friend, and sharer of all my toil and distress; when you and I consorted together, and I was plagued with no other thoughts than the care of mending your furniture and pampering your little body, happy were my hours, my days, and my years! but since I quitted you, and mounted on the towers of pride and ambition, my soul has been invaded by a thousand miseries, a thousand toils, and four thousand disquiets.’
While he uttered this apostrophe, he was employed in putting the pack-saddle on his ass, without being interrupted by any living soul; and Dapple being equipped for the road, he made shift to mount him, with great pain and difficulty: then, directing his words and discourse to the steward, secretary, sewer, Doctor Pedro, and many others who were present, ‘Make way, gentlemen,’ said he, ‘and let me return to my ancient liberty; let me go in quest of my former life, that I may enjoy a resurrection from this present death: I was not born to be a governor, or to defend islands and cities from the assaults of their enemies. I am better versed in ploughing and delving, in pruning and planting vines, than in enacting laws, and defending provinces and kingdoms. I know St. Peter is well at Rome—that is, every one does well in following the employment to which he was bred; a sickle becomes my hand better than a governor’s sceptre; and I would rather fill my belly with soup-meagre, than undergo the misery of an impertinent physician who starves me to death. I would much rather solace myself under the shade of an oak in summer, and clothe myself with a sheepskin jacket in the winter, being my own master, than indulge, under the subjection of a government, with holland sheets, and robes of sables—God be with you, gentlemen; and pray tell my lord duke, Naked I was born, and naked I remain; and if I lose nothing, as little I gain. That is, I would say, Pennyless I took possession of this government, and pennyless I resign my office; quite the reverse of what is usually the case with governors of other islands. Make way, therefore, and let me go and be plaistered; for I believe all my ribs are crushed, thanks to the enemies who have this night passed and repassed over my carcase.’
‘It must not be so, my Lord Governor,’ said Doctor Positive: ‘I will give your worship a draught, calculated for falls and bruises, that will instantly restore you to your former health and vigour; and with respect to the article of eating, I promise your lordship to make amends, and let you eat abundantly of every thing you desire.’—‘Your promise comes too late,’ answered Sancho; ‘and I will as soon turn Turk as forbear going. Those are no jokes to be repeated. Before God! I will as soon remain in this, or accept of any other government, even though it should be presented in a covered dish, as I will fly to Heaven without the help of wings. I am of the family of the Panzas, who are all headstrong, and if once they say Odds, odds it must be, though in fact it be even, in spite of all the world. In this stable I leave the pismire’s wings, that carried me up into the clouds, to make me a prey to martlets and other birds; and now let us alight, and walk softly and securely on the ground; and if my feet are not adorned with pinked shoes of Cordovan leather, they shall not want coarse sandals of cord or rushes; Let ewe and wether go together; and, Nobody thrust his feet beyond the length of his sheet. Now, therefore, let me pass, for it grows late.’
To this address the steward replied, ‘We shall freely allow your lordship to go, although we shall be great sufferers in losing you, whose ingenuity, and Christian conduct, oblige us to desire your stay; but it is well known that every governor is obliged, before he quits his government, to submit his administration to a scrutiny; and if your lordship will give an account of yours, during the seven days you have stood at the helm, you may depart in peace, and God be your guide.’—‘Nobody can call me to an account,’ said Sancho, ‘but such as are appointed by my lord duke. Now to him am I a going, and to him will I render it fairly and squarely; besides, there is no occasion for any other proof than my leaving you naked as I am, to shew that I have governed like an angel.’—‘’Fore God! the great Sancho is in the right,’ cried Doctor Positive; ‘and, in my opinion, we ought to let him retire; for the duke will be infinitely rejoiced to see him.’
All the rest assented to the proposal, and allowed him to pass; after having offered to bear him company, and provide him with every thing he should want for entertainment of his person, and the convenience of the journey. Sancho said he wanted nothing but a little barley for Dapple, and half a cheese, with half a loaf, for himself, the journey being so short, that he had no occasion for any better or more ample provision. All the company embraced him, and were in their turns embraced by the weeping Sancho, who left them, equally astonished at his discourse, as at his resolute and wise determination.
The duke and duchess resolved, that the defiance which Don Quixote breathed against their vassal for the cause already mentioned, should be answered; and although the young man was in Flanders, whither he had fled to avoid such a mother-in-law as Donna Rodriguez, they determined to supply his place with a Gascon lacquey, called Tosilos, whom they beforehand minutely instructed how to behave on this occasion.
Two days after these measures were taken, the duke told Don Quixote that in four days his antagonist would come and present himself in the lists, armed as a knight, and maintain that the damsel lyed by one half of her beard, and even by every hair of it, if she affirmed that he had promised her marriage. The knight received these tidings with great pleasure, flattering himself he should do something to excite the admiration of the whole family; and he thought himself extremely fortunate in having found an opportunity of shewing this noble pair how far the valour of his powerful arm extended. He, therefore, with great joy and satisfaction, waited the expiration of the four days, which, reckoned by his impatience, seemed equal to four hundred centuries.
In the mean time, let them pass, as we have already let many other matters pass; and attend Sancho, who, between merry and sad, jogged along upon Dapple, in quest of his master, whose company he preferred to the government of all the islands upon earth. Well, then, he had not travelled far from the island of his government, (for he never dreamed of being certified whether what he governed was island, city, town, or village) when he saw coming towards him six pilgrims, with their staves, of that sort which begs charity by singing. So soon, therefore, as they approached him, they made a lane; and, raising their voices together, began to sing in their language, though Sancho understood nothing of what they said, except the word Charity, which they distinctly pronounced; so that he immediately conceived the meaning of their outlandish song. Now, he being, according to the asseveration of Cid Hamet, extremely charitable, took out of his bags and gave them the bread and cheese with which he had been furnished, making them understand by signs, that he had nothing else to give. They received his benefaction chearfully, pronouncing, however, the word, ‘Guelte, Guelte;’ to which Sancho answering—‘I really do not understand what you want, good people:’ one of them took a purse from his bosom, and held it up, giving him to understand they wanted money. Then Sancho clapping his thumb to his throat, and displaying the back of his hand, signified that he had not so much as the corner of a rial, and spurred up Dapple, in order to make his way through the midst of them. As he passed, one of them having considered him very attentively, laid hold on Dapple’s halter, and clasping him round the middle, exclaimed aloud, in very good Castilian—‘The Lord protect me! what is this I see? Is it possible that I actually held in my arms my dear friend, and good neighbour, Sancho Panza? Yes, doubtless; for I am neither asleep nor drunk.’
Sancho was astonished to hear his own name, and see himself embraced by a pilgrim, and a stranger, whom, though he silently gazed upon him with the utmost attention, he could by no means recollect. The pilgrim perceiving his surprize—‘Is it possible, brother Sancho Panza,’ said he, ‘that thou dost not know thy neighbour Ricote, the Moresco shopkeeper, that lived in your town?’ Then Sancho, reviewing him with greater attention, began to recal his features; and at length, perfectly recognizing the Moor, he, without alighting, threw his arms about his neck, saying—‘Who the devil could know thee, Ricote, in that disguise? Tell me who has pilgrimized thee; and wherefore hast thou dared to return to Spain, where, if thou art found and known, thou wilt suffer for thy rashness?’—‘If thou wilt not discover me, Sancho, I am secure,’ replied the pilgrim; ‘for in this disguise, nobody will know me. Let us quit the high-road, and remove to yon poplar grove, where my companions intend to take some refreshment and repose; there thou shalt partake with them, for they are a very good sort of people; and there I shall have leisure to recount every thing that has befallen me since I departed from our town, in obedience to his majesty’s proclamation, which so severely threatened the unfortunate people of my nation; as, no doubt, thou hast heard.’
Sancho assented to his proposal; and Ricote having spoke to the other pilgrims, they betook themselves to the tuft of poplars, at a good distance from the high-road. There they threw down their staves, laid aside their rochets or mantles, so as to remain in their doublets; and all of them appeared to be young men of genteel persons, except Ricote, who was already advanced in years. Each had a wallet, in all appearance well provided; at least, with incentives which provoked thirst, at the distance of two leagues. They stretched themselves upon the ground, and using the grass as a table-cloth, spread upon it bread, salt, knives, nuts, crusts of cheese, and some clean bones of bacon, which, though they could not be eaten, were in a condition to be sucked with pleasure. They likewise produced a black dish, which they called caviere, made of the roes of fishes, a great awakener of drought; nor did they want olives, which, though dry and without pickles, were very savoury and delicate; but what made the best figure in the field of this banquet, was a bottle of wine which every pilgrim drew forth from his wallet, not excepting honest Ricote, who, being transformed from a Moor into a German or Teutonian, pulled out his bottle also, which in size might have vied with all the other five. They began to eat with infinite relish, and great deliberation, smacking their lips at every mouthful which they took with the point of a knife, though they are but little; then, all at once, the whole squadron together raised their arms and bottles aloft, and joining mouth to mouth, with their eyes fixed on the firmament, they seemed to take aim at heaven. In this manner, shaking their heads from side to side, in token of the satisfaction they received, they continued a good while in the act of transfusing the contents of the bottles into their own bellies.
Sancho beheld this scene, with every part of which he was perfectly well pleased; and, in compliance with the proverb which he very well knew, importing, ‘When thou art at Rome, follow the fashion of Rome,’ he begged an embrace of Ricote’s bottle, and took his aim like the rest; nor was his satisfaction inferior to theirs. Four times did their bottles admit of elevation; but the fifth was to no purpose: for, by that time, they were as clean and as dry as a rush; a circumstance that threw a damp upon the mirth which had hitherto prevailed. From time to time each pilgrim, in his turn, shook hands with Sancho, saying—‘Spaniard or German, all one, goot companion.’ To which compliment Sancho replied—‘Goot companion, by the Lord!’ bursting out into a fit of laughter which lasted a whole hour, without remembering at that time the least circumstance of what had happened to him in his government; for over the times and seasons of eating and drinking, care seldom holds jurisdiction. Finally, the conclusion of the wine was the beginning of sleep, which overwhelmed the whole company, and stretched them along upon the table and cloth they had been using. Ricote and Sancho were the only two who remained awake, in consequence of having eaten more, and drank less, than their fellows: then Ricote taking Sancho aside, they sat down at the root of a beech, leaving the pilgrims buried in an agreeable slumber; and without stumbling in the least upon his Moresco language, he spoke in pure Castilian to this effect.
‘Well thou knowest, O Sancho Panza, my neighbour and friend, how the edict and proclamation which his majesty published against those of my religion, overwhelmed us all with terror and consternation; at least, they terrified me to such a degree, that long before the time allotted to us for our removal from Spain, I thought the rigour of the penalty was already executed against me and my children. I therefore resolved, and, I think, wisely, like the man who knowing he must quit the house he lives in, at such a time, provides himself with another to which he may remove—I resolved, I say, to retire by myself, without my family, and go in quest of some place to which I might carry it commodiously, without that hurry and confusion which attended the departure of my neighbours; for I was very well convinced, and so were all our elders, that those edicts were not only threats, as some people said, but real laws, that would certainly be put in execution at the appointed time: and this truth I was compelled to believe, by knowing the base and mad designs which our people harboured; such designs that, I verily think, his majesty was divinely inspired to execute such a gallant resolution. Not that we were all guilty; for some among us were firm and staunch Christians: but they were so few in number, that they could not oppose the schemes of those who were otherwise; and it was dangerous to nurse a serpent in one’s bosom, by allowing the enemy to live within the house. In a word, we were justly chastised by the sentence of banishment, mild and gentle in the opinion of some, but to us the most terrible that could be pronounced. In what country soever we are, we lament our exile from Spain: for, in fine, here we were born; this is our native country; in no clime do we find a reception suitable to our misfortunes; nay, in Barbary, and all the other parts of Africk, where we expected to be received, cherished, and entertained, we have been most injured and maltreated; we knew not our happiness until we lost it; and so intense is the longing desire which almost all of us have to return to Spain, that the greatest part of those, and they are many, who understand the language like me, return to this kingdom, leaving their wives and children, unprotected abroad, such is their affection for this their native soil; and now, I know, by experience, the truth of the common saying, Sweet is the love of native land.
‘Leaving our town, as I have already said, I repaired to France; and, though there we met with a civil reception, I was desirous of seeing other countries. I, therefore, travelled into Italy, from whence I passed into Germany, where people seemed to live with more freedom: the natives do not pry with curious eyes into one another’s concerns; every one lives according to his own humour; for in most parts of the empire there is liberty of conscience. I left a house which I hired in a village near Augsburg, and joined these pilgrims, a great number of whom are wont to come hither yearly, on pretence of visiting the sanctuaries of Spain, which are their Indies, as being productive of well known advantage, and most certain gain. They traverse the whole country; and there is not a village from which they are not dismissed with a belly full of meat and drink, as the saying is, and a rial at least, in money; so that at the end of their peregrination, they are above a hundred crowns in pocket, which, being changed into gold, they conceal in the hollow of their staves, or in the patches of their cloaks; or task their industry in such a manner as to carry off their purchase to their own country, in spite of the guards at the passes and gates, where they are examined and registered.
‘My present intention, Sancho, is to carry off the money I have buried, which being without the town, I can retrieve without danger; then I shall write, or take a passage from Valencia, to my wife and daughter, who, I know, are at Algiers, in order to contrive a method for transporting them to some port of France, from whence I will conduct them to Germany, where we will bear with resignation the will of Heaven: for, in fine, Sancho, I am positively certain that my daughter Ricota, and my wife Francisca Ricote, are real Catholick Christians; and, though I myself am not entirely of that way of thinking, I have more of the Christian than the Mussulman; and I incessantly pray to God to open the eyes of my understanding, that I may know how to serve him in the right way. But what excites my wonder, and baffles my penetration, is the conduct of my wife and daughter; who have chosen to retire into Barbary, rather than to France, where they might have lived as Christians.’
To this observation Sancho replied—‘Why, look ye, Ricote, they were not, I suppose, at liberty to chuse for themselves, inasmuch as they were carried off by your wife’s brother, John Tiopieyo, who, being a rank Moor, would naturally go to the place where he himself intended to make his abode: and, I can tell you, moreover, I believe it will be in vain for you to go in search of what you left under ground; for we are informed that thy wife and brother-in-law were stripped of a number of pears, and a great deal of money, which was carried off to be registered.’—‘That may be very true,’ said Ricote: ‘but I am certain, Sancho, they have not touched my hoard; for I would not tell them where it was hid, because I dreaded some misfortune: and, therefore, Sancho, if thou wilt come along with me, and assist me in taking up and concealing it, I will gratify thee with two hundred crowns, to relieve thy necessities, which thou art sensible I know to be manifold.’—‘I would comply with thy proposal,’ answered Sancho; ‘but I am not at all covetous; were I that way inclined, I this morning quitted an employment by which I might have been enabled to build the walls of my house of beaten gold, and in less than six months, eat out of plate: for this reason, therefore, and because I should think myself guilty of treason to my king, in favouring his enemies, I will not go along with thee, even though in lieu of promising me two hundred, thou shouldst here lay down four hundred crowns upon the nail.’—‘And, pray, what office is this that thou halt quitted?’ said Ricote. ‘I have quitted the government of an island,’ replied Sancho: ‘aye, and such a one as, in good faith, you will not find its fellow in three bow-shots.’—‘And whereabouts is this island?’ resumed the other. ‘Whereabouts!’ cried Panza: ‘about two leagues from hence, and it is called the Island Barataria.’—‘Spare me, spare me, good Sancho,’ said Ricote: ‘islands are far at sea; there are none upon the continent.’—‘How, none!’ replied Sancho: ‘I tell thee, friend Ricote, I left it but this mornings and yesterday governed in it at my pleasure, like a perfect sagittary; but, for all that, I resigned my place; for I found the office of governors is very troublesome and dangerous.’—‘And what hast thou got by this government?’ said Ricote. ‘I have got sense enough to know that I am fit for governing nothing but a flock of sheep,’ answered Sancho: ‘and that the wealth acquired in such governments is got at the expence of ease, sleep, and even sustenance; for in islands the governors must eat very little, especially if they have physicians to watch over their health.’—‘I really do not understand thee, Sancho,’ said Ricote: ‘but every thing thou hast spoke, to me seems mere madness; for who would give thee islands to govern, when there is plenty of men in the world so much more capable of governing than thou? Keep thy own counsel, Sancho, and recollect thy judgment, and consider whether or not thou wilt accompany me, as I proposed, to assist me in conveying the treasure I have hid; for the sum is really so great, it may well be called a treasure, and I will give thee wherewithal to live, as I have already promised.’—‘I have already told thee, Ricote, that I will not,’ answered Sancho: ‘be satisfied that by me thou shalt not be discovered; continue thy journey in happy hour, and let me proceed in mine: for, well I know, What’s honestly earned may be easily lost, but ill-got wealth is ever at the owner’s cost.’—‘Well, I will not farther importune thee,’ said Ricote: ‘but, pray tell me, Sancho, wast thou in our village when my wife and daughter departed with my brother-in-law?’—‘Yes, I was,’ replied Sancho: ‘and I can tell thee, thy daughter appeared so beautiful, that all the people in town went forth to see her, and every body owned she was the fairest creature under the sun; she went along weeping, and embraced all her friends and acquaintance; and begged of all that came to see her, that they would recommend her to God, and our Lady his blessed mother. Indeed, her behaviour was so moving, that I myself, who am no blubberer, could not help shedding tears; and, in good sooth, many persons were very desirous of going after, and carrying her off, in order to conceal her; but they were diverted from that design, by the fear of acting contrary to the king’s proclamation. He that shewed himself the most passionately fond of her, was Don Pedro Gregorio, the young rich heir, who, thou knowest, was said to be in love with her. After her departure, he never more appeared in our town, and every body believed he went away in order to carry her off; but hitherto we have had no account of his motions.’—‘I had always a suspicion,’ said Ricote, ‘that the young gentleman was enamoured of my daughter; but, as I confided in the virtue of Ricota, his passion gave me no disturbance; for thou must have heard, Sancho, that the Moorish women seldom or never engage in amorous intercourse with old Christians; and my daughter, whose inclination, I believe, leaned more to Christianity than to love, paid no attention to the importunities of that young heir.’—‘God grant it may be so,’ replied Sancho; ‘for it would have been to the prejudice of both: and now let me depart in peace, friend Ricote; for, this night, I intend to be with my master Don Quixote.’—‘God be thy guide, brother Sancho,’ said the Moor: ‘I see my companions are stirring, and it is time for us to make the best of our way.’
Then the two having embraced one another, Sancho mounted Dapple, Ricote supported himself with his staff, and in this manner they parted different ways.
Sancho was so long detained by Ricote, that he could not reach the duke’s castle that day, though he was within half a league of it, and there overtaken by the night, which was dark and close; but it being the summer season, he was not much concerned, and retired a little from the high-road with intention to wait patiently for morning. It was, however, the pleasure of his niggard and unhappy fortune, that in seeking a place proper for his accommodation, he and Dapple tumbled into a deep and very dark pit, among a number of old buildings. In falling, he recommended himself to God, with all his heart, in the firm persuasion that he would not stop until he reached the bottom of the profound abyss: but this apprehension was happily disappointed; for Dapple having descended little more than three fathoms, touched the ground, and his rider found himself on his beast’s back, without having sustained the least hurt of damage. He felt his body all over, and held in his breath to know whether he was sound or perforated in any part; and when he found himself safe, whole, and in Catholick health, he did not fail to thank our Lord God for his protection, as he actually thought he had been shattered into a thousand pieces. He likewise felt about the sides of the pit, to know if there was any possibility of being extricated without assistance; but he found them all smooth and perpendicular, without any projection or cranny of which he could take the least advantage; a circumstance that greatly increased his chagrin, especially when he heard Dapple complain in a most pathetick and lamentable tone; and, indeed, it was no great wonder, nor did he lament out of wantonness, for in truth he was in a very sorry condition.
It was then that Sancho Panza exclaimed—‘Alack, and a-well-a-day! how unexpected are the accidents which, at every turn, befal those who live in this miserable world! Who could foretel, that he who yesterday saw himself enthroned as governor of an island, giving orders to his servants and vassals, should to-day be buried in a dungeon, without a soul to remedy his misfortune, or a servant or vassal to hasten to his relief? Here I and my poor beast must perish by hunger, if we do not give up the ghost before that period; he, in consequence of being battered and bruised, and I, from pure sorrow and vexation. At least, I shall not be so lucky as my master Don Quixote de La Mancha; who, when he descended, and sunk into the cave of that same enchanted Montesinos, was better entertained than he could have been in his own house; so that the cloth seemed to be laid, and the bed fairly made. There he enjoyed beautiful and agreeable visions; but here, I believe, I shall see nothing but toads and serpents. Unfortunate wretch that I am! to what a pass am I brought by my fantasies and folly! From this cavern (when Heaven shall be pleased to discover them) my bones, together with those of my honest friend Dapple, will be taken up smooth, and white, and bare as an atomy; and, from this particular, perhaps, it will be discovered who we are, especially by those who know that Sancho Panza never parted from his ass, nor his ass from Sancho Panza. I say again, miserable creatures that we are! why would not our niggard fortune allow us to die at home, in our own country, in the midst of our friends? where, though our misfortune would admit of no remedy, we should not have wanted relations to grieve at our fate, and close our eyes in the last hour of our trial!
‘O my dear companion, and my friend! how ill have I rewarded thy good services! Forgive me, honest Dapple, and entreat fortune, in the best terms thou canst use, to deliver us from this vexatious misery in which we are equally involved; in which case, I promise to put a crown of laurel upon thy head, so as that thou shalt look like a poet-laureat; and, withal, to give thee double allowance of provender.’ In this manner did Sancho Panza pour forth his lamentation, to which the poor beast listened without answering one word; such was the danger and distress to which the poor animal found himself exposed.
At length, after they had passed the whole night in miserable complaints and lamentations, day broke; and by the light and splendor of the morning, Sancho perceived, that of all impossibilities it was the most impossible to free himself from that pit without assistance; so that he began to lament afresh, and roar aloud, in hope that somebody might hear his voice: but all his cries were uttered to the desart; for in all that neighbourhood there was not a soul by whom he could be heard; and therefore he gave himself up for lost. As Dapple lay with his mouth uppermost, Sancho Panza exerted himself in such a manner as to raise his friend upon his legs, which, by the bye, could scarce bear his weight; and, taking a piece of bread out of his wallet, which had likewise suffered the same unfortunate fall, gave it to the poor beast, who received it very thankfully; and Sancho told him, as if he understood his words—‘All ills are good, when attended with food.’ About this time he discovered a hole at one side of the dungeon, large enough to give passage to a man, provided he could bend his body, and creep through; to this he hastened, and squeezing himself into it, perceived, within, a large extensive space, the particulars of which he could distinguish; for, through what may be termed the roof, descended a small stream of light that illuminated the whole place, which, as he observed, dilated and extended itself through another spacious concavity.
Sancho, having made these remarks, returned to the place where his companion stood, and with a stone began to clear away the rubbish from the hole, which he in a little time enlarged to such a degree that Dapple passed with ease. Then taking the halter in his hand, he led him forwards through that cavern, in hope of finding an exit at the other end: and sometimes he proceeded darkling, and sometimes without one ray of light; but always in fear and trepidation. ‘God Almighty protect me!’ said he within himself; ‘this, that is such a dismal expedition to me, would be an excellent adventure to my master, who would look upon these depths and dungeons as so many flower-gardens, and palaces of Galiana[194]; and expect to pass from this distress and obscurity, into some blooming meadow adorned with the pride of spring: whereas I, a miserable wretch! equally impudent and poor-spirited, dread, at every step, that another dungeon, still more deep, will suddenly open under my feet, and swallow me up at once. We may bear, without a groan, the misfortune that comes alone.’ In venting these ejaculations, he fancied he had proceeded about half a league, when he perceived a kind of confused light, like that of day, glimmering through a passage that seemed to be the road from this to the other world.
Here Cid Hamet Benengeli, leaving the squire, returns to Don Quixote, waiting with joy and transport for the combat in which he was to engage with the person who had robbed the daughter of Donna Rodriguez of her precious virtue; for he made no doubt of redressing the grievance and disgrace which the delinquent had feloniously entailed upon the innocent damsel.
Chancing one morning to go out, in order to improve and inure himself to the exercise of arms, which he meant to practise in that combat to which in a few days he must be exposed, he, in wheeling about, or giving the charge with Rozinante, rode so near the mouth of a cavern, that if he had not vigorously pulled in the reins, he must have plunged into it, without all possibility of escape. He kept his seat, however, and at length made his retreat good; then, re-approaching the hole, he, without alighting, surveyed the depth of the cave; and, while he was thus employed, heard loud cries issuing from below; in consequence of which, listening with great attention, he could distinguish articulate sounds, and distinctly understand the following exclamation: ‘So ho! above there; is there any Christian within hearing? or any charitable gentleman whose bowels yearn at the distress of a sinner buried alive, and an unfortunate misgoverned governor?’
Don Quixote thought he recognized the voice of Sancho Panza, at hearing which he was confounded and astonished; and raising his own voice as high as he could strain—‘Who is that below,’ cried he, ‘complaining so grievously?’—‘Who should be here, or who complain, but the bewildered Sancho Panza, for his sins and misfortune, appointed governor of the Island Barataria, who was formerly squire to the renowned knight Don Quixote de La Mancha?’ When the knight heard this declaration, his surprize redoubled, his amazement increased, and he was struck with the notion that Sancho Panza was dead, and his soul doing penance in that place. Swayed by this conjecture, he exclaimed—‘I conjure thee, by all that is sacred, as a Catholick Christian, to tell me who thou art? If a soul in punishment, let me know what I can do in thy behalf; for, as it is my profession to savour and assist the needy of this world, so likewise am I ready to succour and relieve the miserable objects of the other world, who cannot relieve themselves.’—‘At that rate, and by your worship’s discourse,’ answered the voice, ‘you should be my master Don Quixote de la Mancha; and, indeed, by the tone of your voice, I know you can be no other.’—‘Don Quixote I am,’ replied the knight; ‘he who professed to aid and assist the living, as well as the dead, in their distresses. Tell me, therefore, who thou art, by whom I am thus held in astonishment; for if thou art my squire Sancho Panza, and hast quitted this life, seeing the devils have not got possession of thy soul, but through the mercy of God thou art now in purgatory, our holy mother, the Roman Catholick Church, has prayers sufficient to deliver thee from thy present pain; and I, for my part, will solicit them in thy behalf, as far as my whole fortune will extend; I say, therefore, make haste, and declare thy name and situation.’—‘I vow to God!’ answered the voice, ‘and swear by the birth of whom your worship pleases, Signior Don Quixote de La Mancha, that I am your identical squire, Sancho Panza, and was never yet dead in the whole course of my life, but I quitted my government for causes and considerations which I must have more leisure to explain. Last night I fell into this dungeon, together with Dapple, who will not suffer me to tell an untruth; by the same token he stands now at my back.’ One would have imagined the beast understood what his master said; for that moment he began to bray so strenuously, that the whole cave echoed with the sound. ‘A most unexceptionable evidence!’ cried Don Quixote; ‘I know that note as well as if I had given it birth; and, besides, I recognize thy voice, my good Sancho. Wait a little, I will ride to the duke’s castle, which is hard by, and bring people to extricate thee from that dungeon into which thou hast been plunged for thy sins and transgressions.’—‘I entreat your worship to go, for the love of God! and return speedily; for I cannot bear to be buried here alive; and, moreover, I am ready to die with fear!’
The knight leaving him accordingly, repaired to the castle, where he recounted to the duke and duchess the accident which had befallen poor Sancho, at which they were not a little surprized, though they at once comprehended how he must have fallen by the correspondence of that cavern which had been there time out of mind; but they could not conceive how he should have quitted the government without giving them notice of his coming. Finally, ropes and cables were provided, together with a good number of people; and Dapple and Sancho Panza, though not without a great deal of trouble, were hoisted up from dungeons and darkness to the chearful light of day. ‘In this manner,’ said a student, who chanced to be among the spectators, ‘should all bad governors be dragged from their governments like that poor sinner from the profound abyss, half dead with hunger, pale with fear, and, as I believe, without a penny in his pocket.’ Sancho, hearing this observation, replied—‘Eight or ten days are now elapsed, brother growler, since I assumed the reins of government in that island, which was committed to my charge; and, in all that time, I never once had my belly-full, even of dry bread. I have been persecuted by physicians; my bones have been crushed by the enemy; but I never had a bribe in view, nor did I ever receive my due. And this being the case, as it certainly is, methinks, I have not deserved to be dragged out in this manner; but Man projects in vain, for God doth still ordain; Heaven knows how meet it is to grant, what every one pretends to want; Every season has its reason; Let no man presume to think, of this cup I will not drink; for, Where the stitch we hoped to find, not even a hook is left behind. God knows my meaning, and that’s enough; I shall say no more, though perhaps I could speak more plainly.’—‘Be not angry, Sancho,’ replied Don Quixote, ‘and give thyself no concern about what thou mayest hear, otherwise there will be no end of thy vexation; console thyself with a good conscience, and let them say what they will; for it is as impracticable to tye up the tongue of malice, as to erect barricadoes in the open fields. If a governor resigns his office in good circumstances, people say he must have been an oppressor and a knave; and if poverty attends him in his retreat, they set him down as an idiot and fool.’—‘For this time,’ answered Sancho, ‘I am certain they will think me more fool than knave.’
Thus discoursing, and surrounded by a number of boys, and other spectators, they arrived at the castle, where the duke and duchess waited to receive them in a gallery; but Sancho would not go up stairs, until he saw Dapple properly accommodated in the stable; for, he observed, the poor creature had passed the preceding night in very indifferent lodging. Then he went to pay his respects to his noble patrons; before whom, falling on his knees—‘According to the good pleasure of your graces,’ said he, ‘and without any merit on my side, I went to govern your Island Barataria, which Naked I entered, and naked I remain; and if I lose nothing, as little I gain. Whether I have governed righteously or amiss, there are witnesses, who will declare, and say, whatsoever they think proper, I have explained doubts, and decided causes, though all the time half dead with hunger, because my fasting seemed good under Doctor Pedro Positive, native of Snatchaway, the island and governor’s physician. We were assaulted in the night by the enemy, who put us all in great jeopardy and consternation; and the inhabitants of the island said they were delivered, and proved victorious, by the valour of my invincible arm; but, so may God deal with them as they speak truth. In a word, I have, during my administration, considered the cares and obligations that attend the exercise of power, and found them, by my reckoning, too weighty for my shoulders; they are neither fit burthens for my back, nor arrows for my quiver; and, therefore, that the government might not discard me, I have thought proper to discard the government; and yesterday I left the island as I found it, with the same streets, houses, and roofs, which belonged to it when I took possession. I have borrowed of no man, nor consulted my own private gain or advantage; and, although my intention was to make some wholesome regulations, I did not put my design in execution, because I was afraid they would not be observed; and a law neglected, is the same thing as one that never was enacted.
‘I quitted the island, as I have said, without any other company than that of Dapple; I fell into a dungeon, through which I groped my way, until this morning, by the light of the sun, I perceived a passage out of it, though not so easy but that if Heaven had not sent my master Don Quixote to my assistance, there I should have remained to the day of judgment. Here, then, my Lord Duke and Lady Duchess, is your governor Sancho Panza, who, during the ten days of his administration, has gained nothing but so much knowledge, that he would not give a farthing to be governor, not only of an island, but even of the whole world; and in this opinion, kissing your graces’ feet, and imitating the game of boys, who cry, “Leap and away,” I take a leap from the government into the service of my master Don Quixote; for, in short, though with him I eat my bread in terror and alarm, I at least fill my belly; and so that is full, I care not whether it be with carrots or partridge.’
Here Sancho concluded his harangue, during which the knight was in continual apprehension that he would utter a thousand absurdities; but when he heard it finished with so few, he thanked Heaven in his heart; while the duke embraced Sancho, and told him he was grieved to the soul that he had so soon left his government; but he would find means to invest him with another office in his estate, which would be attended with less care and more advantage. He was likewise consoled by the duchess, who gave particular orders about his entertainment, as he seemed to be sorely bruised, and in a lamentable condition.