Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
The first to stop were those carrying the image, and one of the four clerics intoning the litanies saw the strange appearance of Don Quixote, the skinniness of Rocinante, and other comic features that he noticed and discovered about the knight, and responded by saying:
"Good brother, if you want to say something, say it quickly, because these brethren are disciplining their flesh and we cannot listen to anything, nor is it right for us to do so, unless it is so brief that it can be said in two words."
"I shall say it in one," replied Don Quixote, "and it is this: you must immediately release that beauteous lady whose tears and melancholy countenance are clear signs that you take her against her will, and have done her some notable wrong, and I, who was born into the world to right such iniquities, shall not consent to your taking another step forward until you give her the freedom she desires and deserves."
When they heard these words, they all realized that Don Quixote had to be a madman, and they began to laugh very heartily; this laughter was like gunpowder thrown into the flames of Don Quixote's wrath, because without saying another word, he drew his sword and charged the procession. One of the men who was carrying the platform let his companions bear his share of the weight and came out to meet Don Quixote, brandishing the forked pole or staff that he used to support the platform while he was resting; Don Quixote struck it a great blow with his sword that broke it in two, leaving the man with the third part in his hand, and with that part he hit Don Quixote so hard on the shoulder, on the same side as his sword, that the knight could not hold up his shield to protect himself from the peasantish attack, and poor Don Quixote fell to the ground in a very sorry state.
Sancho Panza, who came panting close behind him, saw him fall, and he shouted at Don Quixote's attacker not to hit him again because he was a poor enchanted knight who had never harmed anyone in all the days of his life. But what stopped the peasant was not the shouting of Sancho but his seeing that Don Quixote lay without moving hand or foot, and believing that he had killed him, he quickly tucked his penitent's robe up into his belt and fled across the countryside like a deer.
By now all of Don Quixote's companions had reached the spot where he lay; those in the procession who saw them, along with the officers holding their crossbows, running toward them, feared trouble and made a circle around the image; with their pointed hoods1 raised and their scourges in hand, and the priests clutching their candlesticks, they awaited the assault, determined to defend themselves against their attackers and even go on the offensive if they could. But Fortune arranged matters better than they had expected, because the only thing Sancho did was to throw himself on the body of his master in the belief that he was dead and break into the most woeful and laughable lament in the world.
The priest was recognized by another priest in the procession, and this calmed the fears of both parties. The first priest quickly gave the second a brief accounting of who Don Quixote was, and the second priest, along with the entire crowd of penitents, went to see if the poor knight was dead, and they heard Sancho Panza, with tears in his eyes, saying:
"O flower of chivalry, a single blow with a club has brought your well-spent years to an end! O honor of your lineage, honor and glory of all La Mancha, even of all the world, which, with you absent, will be overrun by evildoers unafraid of being punished for their evil doings! O liberal above all Alexanders, for after a mere eight months of service2 you have given me the best insula ever surrounded and encircled by the sea! O humble with the proud and arrogant with the humble, attacker of dangers, endurer of insults, enamored without cause, imitator of the good, scourge of the wicked, enemy of the villainous, in short, O knight errant, which is the finest thing one can say."
Sancho's cries and sobs revived Don Quixote, and the first words he said were:
"He who liveth absent from thee, O dulcet Dulcinea, is subject to greater miseries than these. Help me, friend Sancho, to climb into the enchanted cart; I canst no longer sit in Rocinante's saddle, for my shoulder is shattered."
"I'll do that gladly, Senor," responded Sancho, "and let's return to my village in the company of these gentlefolk, who wish you well, and there we'll arrange to make another sally that will bring us more profit and greater fame."
"Well said, Sancho," responded Don Quixote, "and it will be an act of great prudence to allow the present evil influence of the stars to pass."
The canon and the priest and the barber told Don Quixote that what he intended to do was very wise, and so, having been greatly amused by the simplicities of Sancho Panza, they placed Don Quixote in the cart, just as he had been before. The procession formed once again and continued on its way; the goatherd took his leave of everyone; the officers did not wish to go any farther, and the priest paid them what he owed them. The canon asked the priest to inform him of what happened to Don Quixote, if he was cured of his madness or continued to suffer from it, and with this he excused himself and continued his journey. In short, they parted and went their separate ways, and those remaining were the priest, the barber, Don Quixote, Panza, and the good Rocinante, who endured everything he saw with as much patience as his master.
The driver yoked his oxen and settled Don Quixote on a bundle of hay, and with his customary deliberateness followed the route indicated by the priest, and in six days they reached Don Quixote's village, which they entered in the middle of the day, which happened to be Sunday, when everyone was in the square, and the cart carrying Don Quixote drove right through the middle of it. Everyone hurried to see what was in the cart, and when they recognized their neighbor they were astounded, and a boy ran to give the news to the housekeeper and niece that their uncle and master had arrived, skinny and yellow and lying on a pile of hay in an oxcart. It was a pitiful thing to hear the cries of the two good women, to see how they slapped themselves and cursed once again the accursed books of chivalry, all of which started all over again when they saw Don Quixote come through the door.
At the news of Don Quixote's arrival, Sancho Panza's wife came running, for she had already learned that her husband had gone away with him to serve as his squire, and as soon as she saw Sancho, the first thing she asked was if the donkey was all right. Sancho responded that he was better than his master.
"Thanks be to God," she replied, "for all His mercies; but now tell me, my friend, what have you earned after all your squiring? Have you brought me a new overskirt? Did you bring nice shoes for your children?"
"I didn't bring anything like that, dear wife," said Sancho, "though I do have other things that are more valuable and worthwhile."
"That makes me very happy," she responded. "Show me those things that are more valuable and worthwhile, my friend; I want to see them and gladden this heart of mine, which has been so sad and unhappy during all the centuries of your absence."
"I'll show them to you at home," said Panza, "and for now be happy, because if it's God's will that we go out again in search of adventures, in no time you'll see me made a count, or the governor of an insula, and not any of the ones around here, but the best that can be found."
"May it please God, my husband, because we surely need it. But tell me, what's all this about insulas? I don't understand."
"Honey's not for the donkey's mouth," responded Sancho. "In time you will, dear wife, and even be amazed to hear yourself called ladyship by all your vassals."
"What are you saying, Sancho, about ladyships, insulas, and vassals?" responded Juana Panza, which was the name of Sancho's wife; they were not kin, but in La Mancha wives usually take their husbands' family name.3
"Don't be in such a hurry, Juana, to learn everything all at once; it's enough that I'm telling you the truth, so sew up your mouth. I'll just tell you this, in passing: there's nothing nicer in the world for a man than being the honored squire of a knight errant seeking adventures. Even though it's true that most don't turn out as well as the man would like, because out of a hundred that you find, ninety-nine tend to turn out wrong and twisted. I kn
While Sancho Panza and Juana Panza, his wife, were having this conversation, Don Quixote's housekeeper and niece welcomed him, and undressed him, and put him in his old bed. He stared at them, his eyes transfixed, and did not understand where he was. The priest instructed the niece to look after her uncle with great care and to be very sure she did not allow him to escape again, telling her all that they had been obliged to do to bring him home. At this the two women began to cry out to heaven again, and to renew their curses of books of chivalry, and to ask heaven to throw the authors of so many lies and so much foolishness into the bottomless pit. In short, they were distraught and fearful that they would again find themselves without a master and an uncle at the very moment he showed some improvement, and in fact, it turned out just as they imagined.
But the author of this history, although he has investigated with curiosity and diligence the feats performed by Don Quixote on his third sally, has found no account of them, at least not in authenticated documents; their fame has been maintained only in the memories of La Mancha, which tell us that the third time Don Quixote left home he went to Zaragoza and took part in some famous tourneys held in that city, and there things happened to him worthy of his valor and fine intelligence. Nor could he find or learn anything about Don Quixote's final end, and never would have, if good fortune had not presented him with an ancient physician who had in his possession a leaden box that he claimed to have found in the ruined foundations of an old hermitage that was being renovated; in this box he discovered some parchments on which, in Gothic script, Castilian verses celebrated many of the knight's exploits and described the beauty of Dulcinea of Toboso, the figure of Rocinante, the fidelity of Sancho Panza, and the tomb of Don Quixote, with various epitaphs and eulogies to his life and customs.
Those that were legible and could be transcribed are the ones that the trustworthy author of this new and unparalleled history has set down here. This author does not ask compensation from his readers for the immense labor required to investigate and search all the Manchegan archives in order to bring this history to light; he asks only that they afford it the same credit that judicious readers give to the books of chivalry that are esteemed so highly in the world; with this he will consider himself well-paid and satisfied, and encouraged to seek and publish other histories, if not as true, then at least as inventive and entertaining as this one.
The first words written on the parchment discovered in the lead box were these:
THE ACADEMICIANS OF LA ARGAMASILLA, IN LA MANCHA,
ON THE LIFE AND DEATH OF THE VALIANT
DON QUIXOTE OF LA MANCHA,
Hoc Scripserunt
IGNORAMUS, ACADEMICIAN OF LA ARGAMASILLA,
AT THE TOMB OF DON QUIXOTE
Epitaph
The numbskull who so bravely draped La Mancha
with more rich spoils than Jason brought to Crete,
the mind that deemed the pointed vane to be
needed when something blunter would be meet,
the arm whose mighty pow'r extends so far
that from Cathay to Italian Gaeta's shore
came the most awesome muse, the most aware
who e'er graved verses on a plaque of bronze,
he who left each Amadis behind,
who turned his mighty back on Galaor
and vanquished all in valor and in love,
causing ev'ry Belianis to fall mute,
who mounted Rocinante and went erring,
lies here beneath this cold and marble stone.
BY THE FAWNER, ACADEMICIAN OF LA ARGAMASILLA
In Laudem Dulcineae of Toboso Sonnet
She with the homely face of a kitchen wench,
her bosom high, her gestures fierce and martial,
is Dulcinea, queen of all Toboso,
beloved of the mighty Don Quixote.
For her sake he climbed every rugged peak
of the great Sierra, and trod the countryside
from famed Montiel to the green and grassy plain
of Aranjuez, on foot, weary, in pain.
The fault was Rocinante's. Oh, harsh the fate
of this Manchegan lady and her knight,
errant and unvanquished! In tender youth
she left her beauty behind her when she died,
and he, though his name's inscribed in snowy marble,
could not escape the piercing toils of love.
BY CAPRICIOUS, THE MOST DISCERNING ACADEMICIAN
OF LA ARGAMASILLA, IN PRAISE OF ROCINANTE,
THE HORSE OF DON QUIXOTE OF
LA MANCHA
Sonnet
Upon the proud and gleaming diamond throne
where mighty Mars leaves footprints marked in blood,
the mad Manchegan plants his noble banner
that flutters still with strength so rare and strange,
and there he hangs his arms, the sharp-edged steel
that devastates and cleaves and cuts in twain.
New feats of arms! But art must now invent
a new style for this newest paladin.
And if Gaul boasts and brags of Amadis
whose brave descendants glory brought to Greece
and spread her fame and triumph far and wide,
today in the chamber where Bellona reigns
she crowns the brave Quixote, and for his sake
La Mancha's honored more than Greece or Gaul.
Ne'er may these glories bear oblivion's stain,
for even Rocinante, in gallantry,
surpasses Brilladoro and Bayardo.4
BY MOCKER, ARGAMASILLAN ACADEMIC,
TO SANCHO PANZA
Sonnet
This is Sancho Panza, in body small
but great in valor, a miracle most strange!
He was, I swear and certify to you
The simplest squire the world has ever seen.
A hair's breadth away from being a count,
but insolence and insult, a miser's world,
a greedy time, conspired all against him,
for a donkey ne'er is spared that injury.
He rode that ass, and pardon the expression,
a gentle squire behind an even gentler
horse named Rocinante, and his master.
Oh, how we mortals wait and hope in vain!
At first how sweet the promise, then bitterly
it vanishes in shadow, smoke, and dream.
BY DEVILKIN, ACADEMICIAN OF LA ARGAMASILLA,
AT THE TOMB OF DON QUIXOTE
Epitaph
Here lies the famous knight
errant and badly bruised
and borne by Rocinante
down many a primrose path.
Sancho Panza the simple
lies here, too, beside him,
the squire most loyal and true
who ever plied the trade.
BY TICKTOCK, ACADEMICIAN OF LA ARGAMASILLA,
AT THE TOMB OF DULCINEA OF TOBOSO
Epitaph
Here rests the fair Dulcinea;
once rosy-fleshed and plump,
now turned to dust and ashes
by fearful, hideous death.
She came of unsullied stock,
with a hint of nobility;
the pure passion of great Quixote,
and the glory of her home.
These were the verses that could be read; in the others, the writing was worm-eaten, and they were given to an academician to be deciphered. Our best information is that he has done so, after many long nights of laborious study, and intends to publish them, hoping for a third sally by Don Quixote.
Forsi altro cantera con miglior plectio. 5
&nbs
By Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra Author of the First Part
Dedicated to Don Pedro Fernandez de Castro, Count of Lemos, Andrade, and Villalba, Marquis of Sarria, Gentleman-in-waiting to His Majesty, Commander of the jurisdiction of Penafiel and La Zarza, member of the Order of Alcantara, Viceroy, Governor, and Captain General of the Kingdom of Naples, and President of the Supreme Council of Italy.
To the Count of Lemos 1
S OME DAYS AGO, when I sent Your Excellency my plays, printed before they were performed, I said, if I remember correctly, that Don Quixote had his spurs ready to make the journey to kiss Your Excellency's hands, and now I say that he is wearing them, and is on his way, and if he arrives, it seems to me I will have performed a service for Your Excellency, because I have been urged on every side to send him forth in order to alleviate the loathing and disgust caused by another Don Quixote who has traveled the world in the disguise of a second part,2 and the person who has shown the deepest interest has been the great Emperor of China, who, not more than a month ago, sent an emissary with a letter for me in the Chinese language, asking, or I should say begging, me to send the knight to him, because he wanted to establish a college in which the Castilian language would be read, and the book he wanted the students to read was the history of Don Quixote. He further said that he wanted me to be the rector of the college.
I asked the bearer of the letter if His Majesty had given him anything that would help me to defray my expenses. He replied that it had not even occurred to him.
"Well, brother," I responded, "you can go back to your China, covering your ten leagues a day, or twenty, or whatever you prefer; because my health is not good enough for me to undertake so long a journey, and not only am I ailing but I am lacking in funds, and emperor for emperor and monarch for monarch, in Naples I have the great Count of Lemos, who, without all the provisos of colleges and rectorships, sustains me and protects me and does me more good turns than I could ever desire."
With this I took my leave of him, and with this I take my leave now, offering to Your Excellency The Travails of Persiles and Sigismunda, a book that I will complete in four months, Deo volente, and it will be either the worst or best ever composed in our language, I mean, of those written for diversion; I must say I regret having said the worst, because in the opinion of my friends it is bound to reach the extremes of possible goodness. May Your Excellency enjoy all the good health we wish for you; Persiles will soon be ready to kiss your hands, and I, your feet, being, as I am, the servant of Your Excellency. In Madrid, the last day of October, 1615.