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SPIRJT OF CERVANTES; 
 
 OR, 
 
 DON QUIXOTE ABRIDGED. 
 
 BEING A 
 
 SELECTION OF THE EPISODES AND INCIDENTS, 
 
 WITH A 
 
 SUMMARY SKETCH 
 
 OF THE 
 
 STORY OF THAT POPULAR ROMANCE. 
 
 IN TWO PARTS, 
 
 WITH SUPERIOR COLOURED ENGRAVING*. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR F. C. & J. RIVINGTON, 
 
 NO. 62, ST. PAUL'S CHURCH-YARD, 
 
 AND NO. 3, WATERLOO-PLACE, PALL-MALL. 
 
 1820. 
 
t> 
 
 
 Printed by R. Gilbert, St. John's Square, 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 IN a book containing but a very 
 moderate number of pages, and professing 
 only to bring forward the more prominent 
 parts of a work that exhibits the most brilliant 
 proofs of genius, many words of preface may 
 be dispensed with, and are the less called 
 for, after the elaborate discussions that have 
 ushered in the late publications with respect 
 to Cervantes' writings. 
 
 It may therefore suffice to say, that the 
 present production arose from early impres- 
 sions, made by the perusal of translations of 
 a former date : and that this predilection led 
 to the study of the original work. 
 
 In the same view as Shakspeare's writings 
 have, in the present day, been rendered 
 
 A2 
 
 80.1733 
 
iv PREFACE. 
 
 properly accessible to our domestic circles, so 
 it is hoped this outline of Cervantes' deli- 
 neation of Spanish manners and sentiments, 
 may with equal propriety, be received in the 
 same good company. 
 
 And in extenuation of the liberty with 
 which the original text and arrangement have 
 been handled, Cervantes' own expressions in 
 the course of his work, impress the idea, 
 that he was himself sensible, the enthusiastic 
 ardour of his genius had, in the first outset, 
 carried him beyond even the level of his own 
 countrymen's sanguine temper ; so that it 
 seemed expedient to soften and change many 
 passages, in order to meet the object assigned 
 for the undertaking. 
 
SKETCH 
 
 OF THE 
 
 FEW PARTICULARS 
 
 RECORDED OF THE 
 
 LIFE OF CERVANTES, 
 
 WITH THE CHARACTER OF HIS ROMANCE OF DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 THE place of Cervantes' birth not being known, it 
 can only be gathered from his writings, that he was 
 born in the year 1549 : and from the same source, 
 that his education could not have been neglected, 
 from the stock of acquired knowledge that presents 
 itself throughout his compositions ; which, together 
 with his natural genius, enabled him with so much 
 skill to draw his characteristic pictures of human 
 nature. 
 
 The Author's life in the following abridgment 
 affords an example, that superiority of genius is not 
 always beneficial to its possessor; and that even 
 
6 SKETCH OF CERVANTES. 
 
 the utile dulce, the agreeable combined with the 
 instructive,, may fail of its reward : for although 
 this work of Cervantes is described as making such 
 an impression, that the very children handled it, 
 boys read it, men understood it, the old ap- 
 plauded it ; and that it was not overlooked even by 
 the Sovereign, who, it is reported, observing from 
 the balcony of his palace, a student sitting with a 
 book on the banks of the river Manzanares, and 
 frequently falling backwards convulsed with laugh- 
 ter, pronounced that it could be no other than Don 
 Quixote that he was reading; and dispatched one of 
 his attendants to the spot, who verified the fact : yet 
 amidst this blaze of fame, Cervantes passed a life of 
 hardship and privation, and is said to have expired 
 in the greatest poverty. 
 
 It appears that at one period of his life, he was a 
 soldier, and was in the famous sea-fight against the 
 Turks at Lepanto, where so many Christians were 
 rescued from their chains ; and that in this engage- 
 ment he was made a prisoner, and carried to 
 Algiers, experiencing some similarity of adventure 
 to what he has recorded in the romance of Don 
 Quixote, as happening in the story of the Spanish 
 Captive. 
 
SKETCH OF CERVANTES. 7 
 
 Retiring from these active scenes, he engaged 
 in the paths of literature, writing many plays 
 and novels previous to his grand work of Don 
 Quixote, in which he satirizes the folly of suffer- 
 ing the imagination to be possessed with legen- 
 dary tales that have little foundation in nature or 
 fact. 
 
 The author's merit, however, in this as in his 
 other works, though generally admired, obtained 
 so little notice from the superior classes in the 
 kingdom, that he is said to have died in distress in 
 the year 1617. 
 
 In the character of Don Quixote, Cervantes ex- 
 hibits a good understanding perverted by reading 
 romantic stories to such a pass of frenzy, as to 
 mistake and confound the most familiar occurrences 
 with the fantastic illusions these stories had im- 
 pressed on his imagination ; and the ridicule thus 
 exhibited, was felt to be so striking, that the readers 
 of those books awoke as from a dream, and reflected 
 with amazement on their former infatuation. 
 Nevertheless it must be confessed that this dream, 
 however mixed with absurdity, was the offspring of 
 no debased turn of ideas ; which, when dispersed, 
 
 8 
 
8 SKETCH OF CERVANTES. 
 
 I 
 
 did but confirm the Duke of Alva's deep obser- 
 vation, that Cervantes by destroying the spirit of 
 chivalry, had given a death blow to the best energies 
 of Spain. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Treating of the Quality and Bent of Mind of our Hero, 
 and his first Sally in Quest of Adventures 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Don Quixote's Conversations with Sancho Panza ; his 
 Encounter with the Benedictine Monks and Bis- 
 cayan Squire ...... ... * 11 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Further Conversation between Don Quixote and his 
 Squire, and Encounter with the Priests conducting 
 a Corpse for Interment 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Occurrences whilst Don Quixote and Sancho remained 
 with the Goatherds ; with the Story of Chrysostom 
 and the fair Marcella 31 
 
X CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Particulars of the Story of Chrysostom and Marcella 
 intermingled with Don Quixote's Illustration of the 
 Profession of Knight-errantry 40 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Sequel of the Story of Chrysostom and Marcella . . . 60 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Which treats of the Acquisition of Mambrino's Hel- 
 met, and Rencontre with the Culprits condemned 
 to the Gallies 57 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Occurrences on the Brown Mountain Meeting with 
 Cardenio 70 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Don Quixote sequesters himself in the Brown Moun- 
 tain , 82 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Sancho's Meeting with the Curate and Barber of Don 
 Quixote's Village 90 
 
CONTENTS. XI 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Continuation of Cardenio's Narrative . . 94 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Dorothea's Story, and Return of Don Quixote from 
 the Brown Mountain 104 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Don Quixote's Adventures at the Inn, and the Cap- 
 tive's Story 115 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Further Adventures at the Inn, comprising the Result 
 of Dorothea's and Cardenio's Story, and that of 
 the Captive 125 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Don Quixote's Harangue on the Comparison between 
 Arms and Letters and the Arrival of fresh 
 Guests at the Inn , 137 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Continuation of Incidents at the Inn ..,.,,. 148 
 
ill CONTENTS, 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Continuation of Occurrences at the Inn 155 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Don Quixote de la Mancha's Return to his Habita- 
 tion , , 165 
 
 PART II. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Scrutiny of Don Quixote's Library by the Curate and 
 Barber of the Village 175 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The Curate and Barber's Visit to Don Quixote, with 
 
 Sancho Panza's Conversation with his Master. . . . 183 
 V 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Don Quixote's Interview with the Bachelor Sampson 
 Carrasco, and final Determination on a further 
 Sally in Quest of Adventures 192 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Don Qnixote proceeds on his Adventures his meet- 
 ing with Dulcinea del Toboso and Rencontre with 
 the Waggon of Death ............... . ...... 200 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Rencontre with a strange Knight .............. . . 208 
 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Rencontre with Don Diego de Miranda, a Gentleman 
 of La Mancha, with the Adventure of the Lions, 
 and the Knight's Reception at Don Diego's 
 House . 216 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Wedding Feast of Camacho the Rich, and History of 
 the enamoured Shepherd 22? 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Adventure of the enchanted Bark and Puppet-show 
 at the Inn, and the braying Adventure 237 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Don Quixote and Sancho's Interview with a fair 
 Huntress ; their Invitation and Reception at the 
 Duke and Duchess's Castle .. . 248 
 
XIV CONTENTS, 
 
 CfHAPTER X. 
 
 FACE 
 
 Sancho Panza's Conversation with the Duchess he 
 obtains the Government he sought after his Con- 
 duct in it . .258 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Sancho Panza's further Proceedings in his Govern- 
 ment he soons grows weary and quits it 269 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The Story of Morisco Ricote, with Sancho Panza's 
 Rescue from a Cavern by his Master Don 
 Quixote .. 276 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Don Quixote and Sancho Panza depart from the 
 Castle and meet with further Adventures. ...... 283 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Don Quixote and Sancho fall into the Hands of a 
 Band of Robbers their Release, and Arrival at 
 Barcelona . 290 
 
CONTENTS. XV 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Don Quixote and Sancho visit the Gallies at Bar- 
 celona Sequel of Morisco Ricote's Story ...... 298 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Don Quixote's Discomfiture by the Knight of the 
 Moon his Return Home and Death . . . 305 
 
DON QUIXOTE 
 
 ABRIDGED. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OF THE QUALITY AND BENT OF MIND OF OUR 
 HERO, AND HIS FIRST SALLY IX QUEST OF ADVEN- 
 TURES. 
 
 IN those days when the entrance-hall in the 
 mansions of the great in Spain was adorned 
 with the lance, target, and falchion, in memo- 
 rial of the struggle with the Moorish invader ; 
 the hero of this history impressed with the 
 like enthusiasm associated with the same 
 ideas, the emblems, that in his more humble 
 dwelling encircled the stag's antlers over the 
 chimney front ; all relicts that had been 
 handed down by his ancestors as a sort of 
 heir loom, together with a small patrimony 
 for the support of his houshold establishment, 
 which consisted of a housekeeper of middle 
 
 B 
 
DON Q U 
 
 age, a niece just out of her teens, and a lad to 
 go on errands and look to the stable ; where 
 a skeleton of a horse and a half-starved grey- 
 hound had their quarters. 
 
 j&ur hero, who bordered on fifty, was of a 
 tough constitution, extremely meagre and 
 hard featured, an early riser, and heretofore 
 ardent in the sports of the field : but having 
 addicted himself to the reading of books of 
 chivalry, he perused them with so much 
 ardour and application, that he not only 
 forgot the pleasures of the chase, but also 
 utterly neglected the care of his estate, and 
 indeed parted with a considerable portion of it 
 in accumulating books of this description. 
 
 In, this sort of study he had for competitors, 
 the curate of the parish and the barber of the 
 village; and various disputes took place as to 
 the precedence in reputation of their respective 
 champions ; for the curate, though discreet 
 and a man of some learning, was not free 
 from the national foible, and gave a large 
 portion of his studies to that of books of 
 chivalry. He greatly admired Palmerin of 
 
DON QUIXOTE, & 
 
 England, and Amadis of Gaul, whereas Master 
 Nicholas the barber considered them as mere 
 petit maitres compared with Don Galaor, the 
 kinsman of Amadis. 
 
 In short, from these conversations, joined to 
 the incessant application of his own thoughts 
 to the same subject, Don Quixote's under- 
 standing being quite perverted, he was seized 
 with the strangest of whims- This was no 
 other than a persuasion that it was highly 
 expedient and necessary he should travel 
 through the country in arms, in the capacity 
 of a knight-errant, redressing grievances, and 
 courting all occasions of exposing himself to 
 such dangers, as should in the event entitle 
 him to the esteem of the whole world. 
 
 Intoxicated with this strange folly, he in 
 the first place cleaned an old suit of armour 
 that had belonged to one of his ancestors, 
 then visited his horse, and after some days 
 revolving for a suitable name fixed upon 
 Rozinante, and upon still longer deliberation, 
 assumed for himself the title of Don Quixote 
 de la Mancha. 
 
 His armour being scoured and his steed 
 
 B2 
 
4 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 and himself accommodated with appropriate 
 names, he reflected that nothing was wanting 
 but a lady worthy of his affection to inspire 
 him with ardour, and a squire to accompany 
 him in his adventurous pursuits. An object 
 for his love he found in a neighbouring 
 country girl named Aldonza Lorenza; and 
 from her native place, with the musical ex- 
 pression of the epithet, denominated her Dul- 
 cinea del Toboso. 
 
 A squire offered himself in the person of a 
 neighbouring peasant, by name Sancho Panza, 
 an honest-hearted fellow and not devoid of 
 shrewdness and sagacity, but under the 
 knight's ascendency, he suffered himself to be 
 persuaded by arguments and promises of the 
 most extravagant extent to desert his wife 
 and family, and serve him in the capacity of 
 a squire. 
 
 Thus far successful, Don Quixote took 
 measures for supplying himself with money ; 
 and by selling one thing and mortgaging 
 another, raised a considerable sum. 
 
 Every thing being thus arranged, Don 
 Quixote, without bidding adieu to his niece 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 5 
 
 and housekeeper, and Sancho Panza, without 
 taking leave of his wife and children, sallied 
 forth one night from the village, and travelled 
 so hard that before the dawn of day they had 
 advanced far enough to be secure from all 
 search. 
 
 Our knight, however overjoyed at finding 
 himself at liberty to proceed on his project, 
 nevertheless felt some compunction at his 
 neglect in not having previously been initiated 
 in the ceremonials of the order he was enter- 
 ing upon. In this dilemma his never-failing 
 imagination extricated him, by suggesting the 
 possibility of meeting with some courteous 
 knight who could perform the ceremony. 
 Travelling therefore over the dusty plain, in 
 the heat of the day in the month of July, 
 both himself and Sancho were glad to obtain 
 shelter at an inn, which they approached 
 when noon had far advanced. 
 
 The inn, Don Quixote's heated imagination 
 pourtrayed as a castle with moat and battle- 
 ments, the innkeeper as a governor, and some 
 female inmates as damsels of high quality; 
 and at once figured to his mind the oppor- 
 
6 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 tunity of being invested in form with the 
 appropriate insignia of the order he had em- 
 braced. 
 
 Scarcely had he entered the inn, when he 
 took the landlord (whom he called governor) 
 aside, and very respectfully entreated his 
 acquiescence to his desire of being knighted 
 according to the rules of chivalry. The 
 landlord, who was much of a wag, entered 
 into the joke, and promised every thing that 
 Don Quixote required, who, when the night 
 came, and all was quiet, repaired (as the 
 preliminary part of the ceremony) into the 
 court-yard to watch his armour, which he 
 had placed in a water-trough. 
 
 Whilst he was amusing himself with soli- 
 loquies on the cause he had undertaken, he 
 heard his armour clattering in the yard, 
 where it was unceremoniously thrown by 
 some carriers, who being to set out early in 
 the morning, wanted water for their mules : 
 angry words ensuing put the inn in an uproar, 
 and brought the landlord from his bed, who 
 found Don Quixote brandishing his sword 
 with many threats of vengeance, but not before 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 7 
 
 he had received a few pebble stones on his 
 carcase. 
 
 The innkeeper, finding the joke grew seri- 
 ous, resolved to put an end to it ; and sum- 
 moning the inmates of the house, muttered 
 some words whilst he held his day-book in 
 his hand ; then crossing the knight's shoulders 
 with his sword, and the damsels at the same 
 time fastening on his spurs, the ceremony 
 was completed : the knight, with a multipli- 
 city of thanks then took his leave, and pro- 
 ceeded on his errand in company with his 
 squire Sancho Panza. 
 
 The morning had not long dawned, when 
 as they approached a thicket, their ears were 
 struck with shrill repeated cries as from some 
 person in distress. These sounds were no 
 sooner noticed by our knight, than he ex- 
 claimed, 
 
 " Heaven be praised, these cries doubtless 
 proceed from some one that stands in need of 
 my immediate aid and protection." Then 
 pressing on towards the place, and entering 
 the wood, he perceived a mare tied to an oak 
 with a larice resting against it, and a lad about 
 
8 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 fifteen fastened to another tree, under correc- 
 tion by a sturdy countryman, who was apply- 
 ing a leathern strap to the lad's back without 
 the smallest mercy or pity at his outcry. 
 
 Don Quixote observing what passed, pro- 
 nounced aloud, " Discourteous knight, it ill 
 becomes thee to attack one that cannot defend 
 himself; mount thy steed, couch thy lance, 
 and I will make thee sensible of the enormity 
 of thy conduct." 
 
 The countryman, seeing this strange figure, 
 buckled in armour and brandishing a lance 
 over his head, with great humility, replied, 
 
 " Sir Knight, this lad whom I am chastis- 
 ing is my servant, hired to tend a flock of 
 sheep feeding in the adjoining plains ; but 
 he is so negligent, that every day I lose 
 one or more of the number ; and because I 
 punish him for his carelessness or knavery, he 
 says I scourge him out of avarice rather than 
 pay his wages." 
 
 " How," said Don Quixote, " not pay him 
 his wages ! Pay the young man his wages 
 instantly, or I will annihilate thee ; unbind 
 him therefore without delay." 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 9 
 
 The countryman hung his head and un- 
 bound the lad, who being asked by the knight 
 how much was due to him, said that his 
 master owed him for three quarters at the 
 rate of six rials a month, which amounted to 
 fifty-four rials. 
 
 This sum being required, the countryman 
 would fain have made some deductions, but 
 being overruled in this particular, he was 
 drawn to the subterfuge of saying, that he 
 had no coin about him, but if the lad would 
 accompany him home, it should be paid him 
 in ready money. 
 
 " Go with him, master!" said the lad, " I 
 must not think of that ; he would flay me 
 alive, like another St. Bartholomew." 
 
 " He will show more regard to my com- 
 mands," replied Don Quixote, " and I will 
 moreover require him to swear by the laws of 
 knight errantry to abide by them." 
 
 "Bless your Worship," exclaimed the 
 youth, " what does my master know of knight 
 errantry : he is a mere countryman, called 
 Haldango the Rich/' " Be comforted, my 
 son," said Don Quixote, " and rely upon my 
 
10 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 powerful arm in exacting vengeance, if a little 
 of my commands be slighted." So saying, 
 and the countryman having promised obe- 
 dience, the Knight and Sancho departed, 
 leaving the lad at his master's discretion. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 DON QUIXOTE'S CONVERSATIONS WITH SANCHO PANZA ; 
 HIS ENCOUNTER WITH THE BENEDICTINE MONKS AND 
 BISCAYAN SQUIRE. 
 
 DON QUIXOTE and Sancho now proceeded to 
 the pass of Lapice, which being a great tho- 
 roughfare, the knight observed, would afford 
 ample opportunity of meeting with divers 
 adventures. Sancho, jogging on upon his ass 
 like a patriarch, with his wallet and leathern 
 bottle, filled with solicitude for the result of 
 the extravagant expectations he entertained, 
 began at last to give loose to his tongue, 
 saying, 
 
 " Let your worshipful knight-errantship 
 look about that this island, among other things 
 that I am promised, be not forgotten, which 
 I shall be able to govern let it be ever so 
 large." 
 
i& DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 To this the knight answered, 
 " Know, friend Sancho, that it was much 
 the custom of ancient knights-errant to give 
 to their squires, governments of the islands 
 or kingdoms they gained by their arms ; and 
 I am determined that so generous a practice 
 shall not fail on my part ; indeed I propose 
 being more bountiful than they were, for they 
 often waited till their squires were grown old 
 and worn out in their service, by laborious 
 days and fatiguing nights, and then only be- 
 stowed upon them the title of Count or Mar- 
 quis of some valley -or province; whereas if 
 we are living, ere six days expire, perhaps 
 such a kingdom may be obtained, that a 
 crowned head might not disdain." 
 
 " If this should be the case," replied Sancho, 
 " and I become a king by one of those mira- 
 cles that your Worship talks about, my 
 poor wife Gutierez will be a queen, and my 
 daughters infantas." 
 ( u Who can doubt it ?" said his master. 
 ) " That I do," rejoined Sancho ; " for if it 
 / should please God to rain kingdoms on earth, 
 1 not one of the crowns >vould fit the head of 
 
 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 13 
 
 my Gutierez ; it would therefore better suit 
 for her to be a countess." 
 
 " Recommend thyself to God," replied 
 Don Quixote, "who will give thee what is 
 most suitable ; but do not demean thyself by 
 wishing for any thing less than a viceroyship." 
 
 Sancho now observed that it was meal- 
 time, but his master declining any refresh- 
 ment, and leaving him at liberty to take some, 
 lie adjusted himself as well as he could on his 
 ass's pannels, took out of his wallets their 
 contents, and journeying on, munching behind 
 his master, ever and anon he applied the 
 leathern bottle to his mouth with such ear- 
 nestness, as might have excited the envy of 
 the first vintners at Malaga. 
 
 After some days of fatigue, the pass of 
 Lapice came in view, and as soon as Don 
 Quixote espied it, he exclaimed, " Now bro- 
 ther Sancho, we may dip our hands up to the 
 elbows in what are called adventures ; but I 
 give you to understand, that although you see 
 me in the greatest danger when encountering 
 knights like myself, you are not to put your- 
 self forward, unless. I should be at the same 
 
14 DON QUIXOTE, 
 
 time assaulted by a vile rabble." " You 
 may rely, Sir," answered Sancho, " on being 
 obeyed in this particular, for I am of a pacific 
 turn and an enemy to all broils and frays; 
 true indeed, in defence of my own person, 
 I shall not stand on much ceremony ; human 
 and divine laws allowing every one to defend 
 himself." 
 
 Whilst they were thus engaged in conver- 
 sation, there appeared coming towards them 
 two Benedictine monks mounted on mules 
 like dromedaries, with their parasols and tra- 
 velling visors ; after them followed a coach 
 accompanied by four or five horsemen, and 
 two mule-drivers on foot. In the carriage it 
 afterwards appeared that a Biscayan lady was 
 travelling to Seville to meet her husband, 
 who was preparing for a voyage to South 
 America. 
 
 Don Quixote no sooner beheld the friars, 
 (who, though they travelled the same pace as 
 the Biscayan lady were not of her party) 
 than he said to Sancho, 
 
 " This will be a most famous adventure ; 
 for these black apparitions must doubtless be 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 15 
 
 enchanters who are carrying off' some princess 
 in that carriage." 
 
 " For the love of God," exclaimed Sancho, 1 
 " take care what you are about: consider 
 that these are Benedictine monks, and those 
 in the coach no other than travellers." " I 
 tell thee, Sancho/' replied Don Quixote, 
 " that with regard to adventures thou art 
 utterly ignorant." So saying he rode for- 
 ward, and placing himself in the middle of 
 the highway, exclaimed aloud, " Monstrous 
 and diabolical race, surrender instantly the 
 high-born princess whom you are carrying 
 captive in that carriage, or prepare to receive 
 death for your misdeeds." The friars stop- 
 ping short, as much astonished at the figure 
 as at the discourse of Don Quixote, replied,, 
 
 " Sir Knight, we are not deserving of the 
 appellations bestowed upon us being neither 
 diabolical nor monstrous ; but innocent monks 
 of the order of St. Benedict who are travel- 
 ling this way about our own affairs ; nor do 
 we know of any princess carried captive in 
 that coach." 
 
 These hypocritical speeches, 5 ' said the 
 
 " 
 
16 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 Knight, " shall not impose upon me :" and 
 without further parley he attacked the first 
 friar with so much fury, that had he not 
 thrown himself from his mule he would most 
 probably have come to the ground, maimed 
 for life. 
 
 The second friar who saw how his com- 
 panion had been treated, clapped spurs to his 
 mule and flew with the rapidity of the wind 
 across the field. 
 
 Sancho Panza, observing the first friar on 
 the ground, proceeded to disrobe him with 
 the greatest dexterity, when the attendants 
 on foot coming up, asked him for what reason 
 he stripped their master. The Squire replied, 
 that the clothes were his due as the lawful 
 spoils won in battle by his master Don Quixote ; 
 but they not heing in a humour for raillery, 
 and seeing Don Quixote at a good distance 
 talking to the people in the coach, went to 
 fisticuffs with Sancho, and mauled him so 
 unmercifully that he lay stretched on the 
 ground almost without sense or motion ; then 
 with the utmost dispatch they remounted the 
 friar, who pale as a sheet with affright, no 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 17 
 
 sooner found himself again on his mule than 
 he galloped towards his companion, who 
 had tarried at some distance awaiting the 
 issue of this strange adventure ; but having 
 joined company again they both speedily set 
 off, crossing themselves as they rode along. 
 
 Don Quixote in the mean time had ad- 
 dressed the lady in the coach in the following 
 terms : " Beautiful lady, you may now rest 
 secure from your oppressors who have been 
 overthrown by my powerful arm ; and that 
 you may be informed of the name of your 
 deliverer, know that I am Don Quixote de la 
 Mancha, knight-errant, and captive of the 
 beauteous Dulcinea del Toboso; and the 
 whole acknowledgment I ask for my services, 
 is, that you repair to her place of abode, to 
 acquaint her with what I have performed in 
 your behalf/' 
 
 This harangue was overheard, by a Biscayan 
 squire in the service of the lady, who, perceiv- 
 ing that he would not allow the carriage to 
 pass, rode up to Don Quixote, and laying 
 hold of his lance, spoke to him as follows, in 
 a rude dialect ; 
 
 C 
 
18 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 " Get thee gone, cavalier, for if thou wilt 
 not leave the passengers in the coach at liberty 
 to proceed, I will kill thee dead." The knight 
 with great composure replied ; " Wert thou 
 a gentleman, I should chastise thy imperti- 
 nence." " I not a gentleman!" replied the 
 enraged Biscayan, " thou liest as I am a 
 Christian ; throw away thy lance, and draw 
 thy sword, and we shall soon see who is the 
 better man." 
 
 Don Quixote upon this attacked the Bis- 
 cayan with full intention to put him to death. 
 
 The Biscayan had little time to put himself 
 in a posture of defence ; but seizing a cushion 
 from the coach by way of target, was quick 
 enough to have the first blow, which he dis- 
 charged with so much fury, as to carry away 
 part of the knight's helmet with half his ear. 
 
 Don Quixote, staggering under the weight 
 of such an unconscionable blow, with diffi- 
 culty raised himself in his stirrups ; and then 
 grasping his sword with both his hands, let it 
 fall with all his collected strength upon the 
 Biscayan's head, which was but half covered 
 with the cushion, so that he was effectually 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 19 
 
 stunned, and his mule at the same time 
 plunging, brought him to the ground in a 
 very ill plight. 
 
 The knight no sooner perceived the fall of 
 his adversary, than running up to him, and 
 pointing his sword to his throat, he called to 
 him to surrender at discretion ; but the Bis- 
 cayan being unable to utter a syllable, his life 
 was in no little jeopardy, till relieved by the 
 lady's hastening up, and very earnestly ei> 
 treating that the life of her squire might be 
 spared. 
 
 The knight having agreed to his liberation , 
 on the condition of his repairing to the pre- 
 sence of Donna Dulcinea del Toboso, and 
 submitting to her pleasure with respect to his 
 disposal, the affrighted lady, without reflect- 
 ing on the nature of what was required, 
 or enquiring who this Donna Dulcinea del 
 Toboso was, promised that Don Quixote's 
 injunction should be obeyed ; and thought 
 herself well off in escaping further mischief or 
 detention. 
 
 c 2 
 

 CHAPTER III. 
 
 FURTHER CONVERSATION BETWEEN DON QUIXOTE AND 
 HIS SQUIRE, AND ENCOUNTER WITH THE PRIESTS 
 CONDUCTING A CORPSE FOR INTERMENT. 
 
 SANCHO PANZA, having with difficulty raised 
 himself up after the severe handling of the 
 muleteers, now approached his master, who 
 was preparing to mount his horse, and falling 
 upon his knees, took the knight's hand and 
 kissed it, saying, " May it please your wor- 
 shipful Seigniorship to give me the island, 
 which has been acquired by this fierce battle." 
 To this his master replied, " Look you, bro- 
 ther Sancho, this and the like adventures are 
 not matters of such concern, as for islands to 
 be balanced against, but mere cross-way af- 
 fairs, in which only a contusion, or Ithe loss of 
 an ear, may happen. Have patience ; other 
 adventures will offer themselves, when some- 
 
D0N QUIXOTE. 21 
 
 thing more than the government of an island 
 may be obtained. At present, however, I re- 
 quire some relief for my ear, which pains me 
 much." 
 
 Sancho drew from his wallet some lint and 
 ointment, but when, on unloosing his helmet, 
 Don Quixote observed the disastrous state of 
 it, he was literally out of his senses : taking 
 his sword in his hand, and lifting up his eyes 
 to heaven, he exclaimed, 
 
 " I swear by the Creator of all things, and 
 by the holy writings of the Evangelists, to 
 lead the life the great Marquis of Mantua did, 
 when he swore to revenge the death of his 
 nephew Valdovinus, and to abide by the same 
 privations, till I have taken revenge for the 
 injury done me." 
 
 Sancho hearing this, said, " Consider, if 
 the Biscayan squire perform what he was 
 ordered, he does not, without a new offence, 
 merit further punishment." " True," said his 
 master, " and I annul that part of my oath ; 
 but confirm anew my intention of leading the 
 life I proposed, until I take possession of 
 another helmet from some other knight ; and 
 
22 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 by this means imitate the affair of Mambrino's 
 helmet, which cost Sacripante so dear." 
 
 " What has your Worship to do with such 
 oaths," replied Sancho, " which are mischiev- 
 ous to the health of your body and soul, 
 What absurdity, to put yourself to the incon- 
 veniences that old mad Marquis subjected 
 himself to by his oath, and whose freaks you 
 now wish to revive again ! 
 
 " What mortals, I should be glad to know, 
 are to be seen in these cross-ways and by- 
 paths, but muleteers and carters, who, so far 
 from having helmets, never heard of such 
 things in their lives." 
 
 " I tell thee/' rejoined Don Quixote, " that 
 before many hours pass, we shall see more 
 armed men than ever came to the siege of 
 Albraca, to obtain the fair hand of Angelica : 
 but it is time to cease talking, and to examine 
 \vhat is eatable in thy wallet, and then pro- 
 ceed in search of some castle for a night's 
 lodging." 
 
 " I have got," said Sancho, " an onion, a 
 piece of cheese, and some crusts of bread ; 
 
DON QUIXOTfcEt 23 
 
 but these are not the sort of delicacies fit for 
 a valiant knight-errant." 
 
 " How ill you judge," replied Don Quixote, ^ 
 
 u I would have you to know that knights- V ^ 
 
 \\ ^ 
 
 errant do not always eat off a table cloth, for, J 
 
 \ ^i 
 
 having to pass the greatest part of their lives \K f 
 
 in forests and desert places, they must fain \ v * 
 put up with such ordinary food as you now 
 offer." 
 
 Breaking off further conversation, they sat 
 down to their scanty repast, which they 
 finished with dispatch ; then mounted their 
 beasts, and put on at a good rate, in order to 
 reach some inhabited place, where they might 
 procure a night's lodging. 
 
 The dusk of the evening, however, came on 
 whilst they were on the road ; when suddenly 
 they descried a number of lights approaching, 
 and increasing in number as they came nearer 
 to them. 
 
 Sancho began to quake like quicksilver, 
 and the hair bristled on the knight's head ; 
 
 " Without doubt, Sancho," said he, " this 
 must be some vast and perilous adventure, in 
 
24 
 
 which I shall have to exert my whole strength 
 and prowess." 
 
 " Woe is me!" exclaimed Sancho, " if 
 this should prove an adventure of phantoms, 
 where shall I find ribs for the occasion ?" 
 
 Whilst they were endeavouring to conjec- 
 ture the meaning of the lights, they perceived 
 a number of persons in white ; this dreadful 
 vision set Sancho's teeth a chattering ; for first 
 came several on horseback in surplices, with 
 lighted flambeaux, muttering dirges in a 
 plaintive tone ; next, a litter, covered with 
 black cloth, and cavaliers following in dark 
 mantles, with their mules caparisoned in the 
 same dismal trappings. 
 
 Don Quixote, whose imagination at once 
 suggested that this procession accorded with 
 many of the strange things he had read in 
 books of chivalry, speedily dismissed his fears; 
 and placing himself in the middle of the road, 
 cried aloud to them as they advanced, " Halt, 
 knights, give account of yourselves, and say 
 who you are carrying off in that litter." " We 
 are at present in a hurry," replied one of the 
 phantoms in white, " the inn we are to stop 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 25 
 
 at being at some distance." So saying, and 
 spurring on his mule, he endeavoured to pass 
 on, but was interrupted by Don Quixote's 
 seizing the bridle, and the animal being skit- 
 tish, reared up and fell back on its rider. 
 
 One of the servants on foot beginning to 
 revile the knight, it put him in such a fury, 
 that he couched his lance and assaulted the 
 main body of the party, who entangled in 
 their long robes, and being composed of ti- 
 morous unarmed people, were soon put to the 
 rout, to the great surprise of Sancho, as he 
 witnessed his master's prowess. In the mean 
 while, Don Quixote, by the light of a torch 
 that lay burning on the ground, perceiving 
 one of the people, (whom the mule had at 
 first thrown down) rode up to him, and with 
 his lance at his throat, required to know what 
 had brought him to this road, and what was 
 the nature of the cavalcade that had been 
 dispersed. 
 
 " You must know," replied the overthrown 
 priest, " that our business was no other, than 
 conveying the corpse of a gentleman, lately 
 deceased, to his family's burial place." " Who 
 
26 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 killed him ?" replied the knight. God," 
 said the other. " As that is the case," re- 
 joined the knight, " my interference can be 
 of no avail. My office, I have to inform you, 
 is to travel through the country, redressing 
 grievances and righting wrongs." 
 
 " A curious specimen, indeed, you have 
 given of your calling," replied the other, " by 
 nearly breaking the leg of one, who never did 
 you any injury." 
 
 " The truth of the case, Mr. Priest, is, that 
 it was the misfortune of yourself and compa- 
 nions, to travel in such a guise, that I could 
 consider you no other than as inhabitants of 
 the nether world broke loose, and in point of 
 duty was obliged to attack you." Don 
 Quixote then calling to Sancho to assist in 
 relieving the priest, he was remounted, and 
 dismissed to rejoin his companions : Sancho, 
 at parting, desiring him to bear in mind that 
 his master's name was Don Quixote de la 
 Mancha, surnamed the knight of the rueful 
 countenance. 
 
 The priest being gone, Don Quixote asked 
 Sancho what had induced him at that par- 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 27 
 
 ticular time to style him the knight of the rue- 
 ful countenance. " Truly," answered Sancho, 
 " whilst I was looking at you by the light of 
 the torch, the dismal figure your Worship 
 presented, suggested it." 
 
 " Whatever put it in your thoughts," re- 
 plied his master, " henceforward I will adopt 
 the appellation ; and on the first opportunity, 
 have a woeful picture painted on my shield." 
 " There is no call," said Sancho, " to throw 
 away time and money on any such device ; 
 your Worship has only to uncover your bea- 
 ver, and those who behold your face, will 
 call it a woeful one, without your having 
 recourse to a picture on your shield to explain 
 yourself further." 
 
 Don Quixote then expressed a desire to 
 examine the bier, but Sancho advised other- 
 wise, observing that this enterprize had been 
 achieved with less damage than might have 
 been expected; and that it would be now 
 prudent to retreat to some place of refuge ; 
 for, as those with whom they had had the 
 late conflict came but scurvily off, it would 
 not be surprizing if the Holy Brotherhood 
 
28 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 had notice of the adventure ; and there 
 might then be some difficulty in escaping a 
 lodging in prison. 
 
 " Hold your tongue," said his master, 
 " where did you ever see or read of any 
 knight-errant being taken before a court of 
 justice for any act of homicide whatever." " I 
 know nothing of your homicides," said Sancho, 
 " or have ever seen one in my life ; but this I 
 know, that the business of the Holy Brother- 
 hood is to take up those that go fighting about 
 the country, and intermeddling with other 
 people's concerns." 
 
 " Be in no pain," said the Knight, " but 
 that I shall be able to deliver you out of the 
 infernal regions, much less out of the hands 
 of the Holy Brotherhood : but tell me truly 
 Sancho, have you ever seen a more valiant 
 ) knight than myself in the whole compass of 
 your life ? Have you ever read in history of 
 any that have shown more bravery or skill in 
 conduct ?" 
 
 " The truth is," replied Sancho, " that I 
 never read any such history, for this plain 
 reason that I can neither read nor write ; but 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 29 
 
 what I dare to say is, that a more determined ^/ 
 
 master I never served ; and I heartily pray to 
 
 God that we may come to no mischief from J* J 
 
 these extravagancies." 
 
 With these words Sancho took the lead 
 towards the mountains ; the knight, without 
 any further reply, followed, and both putting 
 on at a good rate, approached a goatherd's 
 hut, where they proposed to pass the night. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 OCCURRENCES WHILST DON QUIXOTE AND SANCHO 
 REMAINED WITH THE GOATHERDS ; WITH THE STORY 
 OF CHRYSOSTOM AND THE FAIR MARCELLA. 
 
 THE knight and his squire received a very 
 hearty welcome from the Goatherds ; and 
 Sancho, having accommodated Rozinante and 
 his own beast in the best manner he could, 
 was attracted by the odour of some goats' 
 flesh that was boiling in a kettle, and which 
 the Goatherds were now taking off the fire. 
 
 Having stretched some sheep skins on the 
 ground, they invited both master and man to 
 partake of their fare ; and seating themselves 
 around, placed Don Quixote with much ce- 
 remony upon a trough turned upside down. 
 Don Quixote being thus seated, and perceiving 
 Sancho on foot in readiness to serve the liquor 
 which was in a leathern jug, he called to him 
 and said ; 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 31 
 
 " That you may see Sancho, what advan- 
 tage attends knight-errantry, and to what 
 honor and esteem it elevates those that in any 
 degree administer to it, I, who am thy master, 
 and natural superior, desire, that seated by 
 my side and in this good company, you eat\ 
 out of my plate and drink out of my cup ; so/ 
 that the same may be said of knight-errantry r ^.r 
 as of love, that it putteth all things on aivNV s 
 equality." \ 
 
 " I am much obliged for all favors," re- \ 
 plied Sancho, " but I tell your Worship that 
 provided I have plenty to eat, I would as lieve 
 eat my meals on foot and alone, as seated 
 by the side of an Emperor ; for to say the 
 truth, I am better satisfied in a corner, with- 
 out compliment or ceremony and with a crust 
 of bread and an onion, than with turkey cocks 
 
 and all the dainties of the table, where I must 
 
 I 
 
 eat leisurely, drink sparingly, rinse my mouth 
 frequently, and can neither sneeze nor cough 
 if ever so much inclined. 
 
 " Therefore, good master of mine, I desire 
 that those honors you propose conferring upon 
 me for my services and adherence to the 
 
32 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 cause of knight-errantry may be converted into 
 something more substantial ; and as for the 
 rest I take them the same as if they had been 
 received, and renounce them for ever." Not- 
 withstanding this speech, Don Quixote took 
 Sancho by the arm, and placed him close to 
 his side, saying, " He that humbleth himself 
 shall be exalted." 
 
 The Goatherds who knew nothing of this 
 jargon of knight-errantry, kept silently eating 
 and staring at their guests ; who having now 
 finished their dialogue, swallowed with ala- 
 crity pieces as big as their fists. 
 
 The service of meat being over, the Goat- 
 herds placed upon the skins a quantity of 
 acorns fresh gathered, and a piece of cheese 
 as hard as a board : in the mean time the 
 leathern jug was not idle, but went round 
 filled and refilled like a bucket in a well, until 
 one of the bags that hung up was emptied. 
 
 As soon as Don Quixote had satisfied his 
 appetite, he took up a handful of acorns, and 
 began the following declamatory harangue ; 
 " Happy age and happy times were those 
 which the ancients dignified, with the name of 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 33 
 
 Golden ; thus called, not because gold (which 
 in our iron age is so much esteemed) was to 
 be obtained without trouble ; but because 
 people in those days, were ignorant of those 
 two words, mine and thine. In that holy age "\ 
 
 l 
 
 every thing was in common ; it was only to 
 lift the hand and gather from the majestic 
 oak the sweet and wholesome fruit it liberally 
 presented ; whilst the limpid fountain and 
 running stream offered in copious abundance, 
 their salubrious and transparent waters. 
 
 " In the clefts of the rocks and hollow 
 trunks of the trees, the industrious and pro- 
 vident bees formed their republics, giving to 
 all without interest the rich produce of their 
 labours ; and the aged cork-trees beneficently 
 shed their light spreading bark, for a shelter 
 to the rustic dwelling against the inclemencies 
 of the sky. 
 
 " Then every thing was friendly and in 
 peaceful union ; then the simple and beautiful 
 village damsels walked forth from valley to 
 valley in garments that were only adorned 
 with woodbine flowers and those of odoriferous 
 shrubs ; and in this simple attire, set at nought 
 
 D 
 
34 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 all the foreign inventions of ornament that 
 luxury has introduced. 
 
 " Then neither fraud, deceit, nor malice in- 
 termingled with truth and sincerity ; and justice 
 kept its full prerogative without any daring to 
 disturb or pervert its course ; under its protection 
 the chaste damsels went unattended, without 
 fear of any harm arising from their simplicity 
 of mariners : whereas in our lawless days, 
 none are secure though they should be con- 
 cealed in another labyrinth of Crete. 
 
 " For some security against this degeneracy 
 of the times the order of knight-errantry was 
 instituted, to defend damsels, protect widows, 
 succour orphans and the needy ; of this high 
 order, friendly Goatherds, am I a member, 
 and return thanks for your kind entertainment 
 to me and my Squire ; for though by a natural 
 law, it is the duty of all to afford their services 
 to knights-errant, nevertheless it is incumbent 
 on them to make acknowledgment for good 
 offices." 
 
 All this needless harangue was uttered by 
 Don Quixote because the acorns brought to 
 his remembrance the Golden age ; but re- 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 35 
 
 ceived no immediate answer from the Goat- 
 herds who kept their eyes on the full stare at 
 him ; Sancho in like manner was silent, but 
 not so attentive to his master's discourse as to 
 refrain from munching the acorns, and visit- 
 ing from time to time the other bag of wine 
 which was hung for coolness to an adjoining 
 cork-tree. Don Quixote having finished his 
 harangue, and Sancho his supper, one of the 
 Goatherds said ; " In order to testify our 
 willingness to serve and entertain you, Sir 
 Knight, you shall hear a song from one of our 
 companions who will soon be here; he can 
 read and write and plays on the rebeck that 
 it will delight you to hear him." 
 
 At this moment the sound of a rebeck 
 reached their ears, and soon appeared the 
 player, who was a youth of good presence of 
 about two and twenty years of age. His 
 friends finding he had supped, proposed his 
 favouring the company with a tune and song, 
 that their guests might know that they were 
 not ignorant of music in the woods and moun- 
 tains. The young Goatherd, without waiting 
 to be further entreated, seated himself on the 
 
 D2 
 
36 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 lopped trunk of an oak tree; and readily 
 tuning his rebeck, began in a graceful manner 
 to sing the following couplets : 
 
 I. 
 
 I know Rohhalla you adore me, 
 Tho' no one yet hath told it, 
 Altho' your eyes have not betrayed, 
 Nor yet your smiles disclosed it. 
 
 II. 
 
 Then balance in the scale of reason 
 My love unshaken and untainted, 
 Unapt to change from truth to treason, 
 By frowns impair'd, by smiles augmented. 
 
 III. 
 
 Your lovely person, not your riches 
 At first engaged my ardent wishes ; 
 The church hath silken ties in store, 
 Then yield thyself to Hymen's power. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Else by each blessed saint I swear, 
 And Heaven forbid I prove a liar, 
 Never to quit this desert drear, 
 Except in form of hooded friar. 
 
 When the song was finished, Don Quixote 
 would fain have heard another ; but Saiicho 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 37 
 
 being more inclined to sleep than hear songs, 
 said ; " Had not your Worship better take to 
 your repose, for the labour these good people 
 have in the day will not admit of their passing 
 the night in singing." " I understand thee 
 Sancho/ 5 said his master, " it is very clear that 
 the frequent visits you have paid to the wine 
 bag require the aid of sleep more than music ; I 
 should however be glad to obtain a little relief 
 for the pain of my ear which is rather trou- 
 blesome." 
 
 Sancho mentioning the circumstance to one 
 of the Goatherds, he took a few leaves of 
 rosemary, and rubbing them with salt, at 
 once relieved the pain by their application. 
 
 At this time another of their companions 
 came up who had been to the village for pro- 
 visions, and asked them if they had heard 
 what had happened in the neighbourhood. 
 " How should we ?" said they. " Then know," 
 resumed the other, " that the famous shep- 
 herd scholar called Chrysostom died the other 
 day, and it is whispered about that he de- 
 stroyed himself for love of that plaguy girl 
 Marcella; she that goes about in these un- 
 
38 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 frequented places in the habit of a shepherdess: 
 and they say he has directed in his will, that 
 he should be buried in a field like a Moor, at 
 the foot of a rock where he first saw her. 
 
 " To-morrow the bier is to be brought with 
 the corpse for interment with great pomp, 
 and the sight will be well worth seeing." 
 " We will prepare to go," said the Goatherds, 
 " and cast lots who amongst us shall stay to 
 take care of the herds." " There will be no 
 occasion to take that trouble," cried one, " for 
 I will stay ; but you need not attribute it to 
 complaisance or want of curiosity, but to my 
 being lame from a thorn that ran in my foot 
 the other day." 
 
 Sancho Panza, who had all along cursed 
 the loquacity of the Goatherds, now requested 
 his master to lie down and repose himself 
 under the shelter of the shed, as the night air 
 might be injurious to his wounded ear; and 
 his hosts joining in this recommendation, he 
 was prevailed on to lie down and indulge, not 
 in sleep, but in his usual reveries on the per- 
 fections of his Dulcinea. Not so Sancho 
 Panza, who, having well stuffed his stomach, 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 39 
 
 made but one nap of it, which would not 
 have been easily dispelled by the rays of the 
 sun beaming on his face, nor the singing of 
 the birds, had not the movements of the Goat- 
 herds aroused him. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 PARTICULARS OF THE STORY OF CHRYSOSTOM AND 
 
 MARCELLA INTERMINGLED WITH DON QUIXOTE'S 
 
 ILLUSTRATION OF THE PROFESSION OF KNIGHT- 
 ERRANTRY. 
 
 THE resplendent orb of day had scarcely ap- 
 peared through the balconies of the east, when 
 the Goatherds collected ; and being joined by 
 their guests proceeded on their way to the 
 obsequies of the unfortunate shepherd. 
 
 As they went along, Don Quixote asked to 
 be informed of the particulars of the person 
 who had killed himself, and who was the 
 shepherdess. The spokesman of the last 
 evening who was called Pedro, said, " The 
 report was, that he was a gentleman of sub- 
 stance, having inherited large possessions both 
 in personal property and in land from his 
 father who had not long since died : that the 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 41 
 
 young man having returned from his studies 
 at Salamanca, on a sudden appeared as a 
 shepherd, accoutred with a leathern habit and 
 a flock of sheep ; and joined with him was 
 his fellow student and intimate friend Am- 
 brosio, who had likewise laid aside the college 
 flowing dress, and assumed the garb of a 
 shepherd. When the villagers saw this 
 strange alteration, they greatly wondered; 
 but it was soon known that it was with a view 
 of wandering after the beautiful Marcella. 
 The sketch of her story is as follows : 
 
 " In the village where Chrysostom's father 
 dwelt, Marcella's family had their abode, and 
 were still more wealthy than the former. 
 Marcella's birth, which caused her mother's 
 death, was soon succeeded by the loss of her 
 father called William the Rich. Her uncle, 
 who was the clergyman of the parish and 
 much respected, had the bringing her up, and 
 by the time she was fifteen she was so very 
 beautiful that many became desperately in 
 love with her. Her uncle would fain have 
 had her betrothed to some one of her many 
 admirers ; but the wholly declined upon being 
 
42 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 spoken to on the subject, on the plea of being 
 too young to take upon herself the weight of 
 the bonds of matrimony. 
 
 " One day however when it was least 
 expected, the coy Marcella put on the pas- 
 toral dress, and appeared in public with her 
 beauty exposed to view : she was followed by 
 all the youth conspicuous for rank, wealth, 
 and consequence ; amongst others by the de- 
 ceased Chrysostom, who forsook every thing 
 for love and adoration of her. 
 
 " It is not to be concluded that because 
 Marcella took so much liberty, it proceeded 
 from levity or coquetry ; for although she did 
 not disdain the company and conversation of 
 the shepherds, yet on the least discovery of 
 more particular sentiments, even with respect 
 to the holy bonds of matrimony, she flew 
 from them with a kind of horror. In this 
 way however, as much mischief has been 
 done as if a pestilence hovered over the land ; 
 for her affability and beauty allured the hearts 
 of those that conversed with her, at the same 
 time her plain dealing drove them to despair ; 
 so that those who have observed <her deport* 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 43 
 
 ment, hope to see her haughtiness humbled ; 
 and that her influence may cease to be in- 
 jurious, as it is manifest it has been the cause 
 of Chrysostom's death, and disturbed the quiet 
 of the country." 
 
 At the close of this narrative, and when 
 they arrived where the road branched off, 
 they perceived some shepherds coming to- 
 wards them with black sheepskin garments 
 and chaplets of cypress ; with them were two 
 gentlemen well equipped on horseback and 
 three young men of their retinue on foot. 
 
 On coming up, the two parties courteously 
 saluted each other, arid as they were all going 
 the same way, kept travelling along together. 
 One of those on horseback conversing with 
 his companion, said, " It appears to me, 
 Signior Vivaldo, that we shall not regret 
 employing our leisure this day in attending 
 this singular funeral, concerning which so 
 many extraordinary circumstances have been 
 recounted by the shepherds." Don Quixote, 
 joining in the conversation, asked if their 
 discourse alluded to the story of Chrysostom 
 and Marcella ; and found that the travellers 
 
44 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 had received the same detail as Pedro had 
 delivered. This being discussed, he that was 
 called Vivaldo asked Don Quixote what in- 
 duced him in peaceable times to travel through 
 the country in arms. 
 
 Don Quixote replied, that the profession he 
 embraced required it ; that revelry and repose 
 were to be found among delicate courtiers ; 
 but toil, anxiety, and deeds of arms were the 
 portion of those who styled themselves of the 
 order of chivalry. 
 
 When Vivaldo and his companions heard 
 this speech, they took him for a madman, and 
 to satisfy themselves of the species of insanity 
 that possessed him, Vivaldo desired to be 
 informed what were knights-errant. " Have 
 you never read/' answered Don Quixote, 
 " the annals and histories that treat of the 
 famous deeds of King Arthur, so renowned in 
 our Spanish romances ; and that in his time 
 was instituted the famous order of the Knights 
 of the round table, which extended to so 
 many parts of the world, and became further 
 known through the deeds of Amadis de Gaul 
 and all his sons and grand-children, together 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 45 
 
 with those of the valiant Felixmarte of Her- 
 cania, and the renowned champion Tirante 
 Blancho ; and in latter times by the deeds 
 of the invincible Don Belianes of Greece. 
 Amongst these heroes I humbly class myself, 
 and therefore am equipped as you see for 
 hazarding adventures in wild wastes, and 
 ready to expose myself to any danger in aid 
 of the feeble and distressed." 
 
 These words sufficiently announced the 
 state of the knight's intellects, which asto- 
 nished the hearers as it did every one who 
 was acquainted with this singular individual ; 
 but Vivaldo, who was a man of the world, in 
 order to render the rest of the road less irk- 
 some, sought to obtain some amusement from 
 the ridiculousness of the circumstance, and 
 therefore pursuing the subject, said, " It ap- 
 pears to me, Sir Knight-errant, that you have 
 embraced one of the strictest professions in 
 the world, and that even the Carthusian 
 Friars do not experience your privations." 
 
 " They may have their privations," said 
 Don Quixote, " but there can be no question 
 which is most useful to the world. Let me 
 
46 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 ask, how could the religious pray in peace 
 and safety for the welfare of mankind, if sol- 
 diers and knights-errant did not, by the valour 
 of their arms and edge of their swords defend 
 them, whilst they themselves are unsheltered 
 and exposed to the scorching rays of the 
 summer's sun and the chilling air of winter : 
 in fact, we, professing arms, may be called 
 God's ministers on earth, and the instruments 
 by which he administers justice." " I agree 
 with you in some respects," replied Vivaldo, 
 " but I cannot reconcile to my judgment one 
 custom prevalent to your order ; that on pre- 
 paring to achieve some desperate enterprize, 
 instead of recommending yourselves to Heaven 
 as good Christians, you address yourselves to 
 your mistresses, which appears to me to border 
 on paganism." 
 
 " Sir," replied Don Quixote, " that must 
 be done, or evil would result from the omis- 
 sion, for it is the very essence of knight- 
 errantry." " But suppose," rejoined the other, 
 " that the knight has no mistress ; then how 
 is this indispensible law to be obeyed?" 
 " Such a supposition," replied Don Quixote, 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 47 
 
 " cannot be entertained ; for it is as natural 
 for a knight-errant to have a mistress as the 
 expanse of Heaven to be illuminated by the 
 stars.'* " However," again observed Vivaldo, 
 " if my memory fail me not, I have some- 
 where read that Don Galaor the brother of 
 the valorous Amadis de Gaul had no mistress, 
 and he was not inferior to any in celebrity." 
 To this Don Quixote replied, " One swallow 
 is no absolute sign of summer ; and at any 
 rate he must have been secretly in love, as it 
 is the indispensable condition of the order he 
 professed." " If this be the case," rejoined 
 Vivaldo, " it is to be presumed that you your- 
 self are in that predicament, and if you do not 
 make a point like Don Galaor of keeping 
 secret the object of your affection, it would 
 greatly gratify me and all the rest of the 
 company if you would declare the name and 
 country of the lady, whom we can readily 
 suppose must be very superior, to engage the 
 affections of so accomplished a knight." 
 
 To this Don Quixote replied with a deep 
 sigh and disconsolate look ; " I cannot take 
 upon myself to declare that the sweet enemy 
 
48 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 of my repose takes delight or not in what all 
 the world knows of my devotion to her ; I can 
 only say, with the acknowledgments due to 
 your complaisance, gentlemen, that her name 
 is Dulcinea, her native place Toboso a village 
 of La Mancha ; and her beauty so super- 
 lative, that she possesses all the attributes of 
 it that the poets ascribe to their mistresses ; 
 her hair is of golden hue ; her forehead the 
 Elysian plains ; her eyes suns ; her cheeks 
 roses ; her lips coral ; her teeth pearls ; her 
 neck alabaster ; her bosom marble ; her hands 
 ivory, and snow itself is scarcely emblematical 
 of the purity that distinguishes her." " It 
 would further gratify us," resumed Vivaldo, 
 " to know her race, lineage, and family." To 
 this the knight replied ; " She is neither of 
 the Roman Curii, Gracchi, nor Scipios ; nor 
 of the modern Colonnas, nor Usini ; nor of 
 the Palafoxes of Arragon, nor of the Men- 
 dozas or Guzmans of Castile, but of Toboso 
 de la Mancha ; and though of modern origin, 
 may produce an illustrious family." 
 
 " Although my family/' said Vivaldo, " is 
 of the Cachopines of Lundo, it is doubtless 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 49 
 
 not to be compared with this of the famous 
 lady of La Mancha ; yet to speak the truth, 
 I never before heard mention of it." 
 
 And Sancho, notwithstanding his confidence 
 in whatever his master said, could not help 
 muttering, that although he lived in the 
 neighbourhood of Toboso, he never before 
 had heard of a princess in that part. 
 
 E 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 SEQUEL OF THE STORY OF CHRYSOSTOM AND MARCELL&* 
 
 WHILST Don Quixote was conversing with 
 Vivaldo, as related in the foregoing chapter, 
 they were joined by another group of shep- 
 herds in the same garb as before described ; 
 and shortly after perceived a further number 
 descending through a chasm in the hills, and 
 a bier carried in the midst of them. The 
 travellers hastening along, arrived just as the 
 bier was placed upon the ground, and four of 
 the attendants had begun with pick-axes to 
 open the hard rock for the grave. Mutual 
 courtesies passed, and Don Quixote with the 
 rest went to view the corpse which was 
 clothed in the shepherd's dress, and which, 
 though lifeless, had a prepossessing coun- 
 tenance. All around and about the bier were 
 scattered books and papers open and sealed ; 
 and the spectators as well as those digging 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 51 
 
 the grave, kept a deep silence, till one of 
 those who had borne the corpse, said to ano- 
 ther, " This, Ambrosio, certainly is the place 
 where the deceased, ere the fatal string of life 
 was severed, desired that his remains should 
 be deposited." " It is," replied Ambrosio, 
 " and my friend many times recounted the 
 history of this particular circumstance of his 
 misfortune ; it was here, he said, he first saw 
 that mortal enemy of the human race ; and 
 here he first disclosed his passion, and encoun- 
 tered her disdain, which put an end to his 
 miserable life." Then turning to Don Quixote 
 and those around, he continued; " This body, 
 gentlemen, which you regard with compas- 
 sionate eyes, was the depository of a soul on 
 which Heaven had bestowed its richest gifts. 
 " In disposition, courtesy, and every gentle- 
 manly quality he stood the first, and was 
 without a second in every thing that was un- 
 fortunate : he loved and was disdained ; he 
 addressed a savage, importuned a piece of 
 marble, and the result of his abandonment 
 was his being despoiled by death before he 
 had reached the half of his career." A ge- 
 
 E 2 
 
52 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 neral sigh at this recital echoed around, and 
 the mournful preparation for committing the 
 corpse to the earth was approaching, when 
 Vivaldo, being strongly urged by curiosity, 
 put his hands upon one of the scrolls of paper 
 that were scattered about the bier, and was 
 proceeding to take up others, when he was 
 restrained by Ambrosio, who declared it was 
 his friend's positive injunction that his writings 
 should be destroyed at the same time that his 
 body was committed to the earth. However, 
 at Vivaldo's and the rest of the company's 
 entreaty, Ambrosio consented that the one he 
 had taken up should be first read ; it was en- 
 titled, The Song of Despair ; and Vivaldo in 
 an audible tone read as follows : 
 
 I. 
 
 Ah ! What inspires my woeful strain ? 
 
 Unheard disdain. 
 Ah ! what augments my misery ? 
 
 Fell jealousy. 
 Or say, what has my patience worn ? 
 
 An absent lover's scorn. 
 
 II. 
 
 The torments then that I endure, 
 No mortal remedy can cure, 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 53 
 
 For every languid hope is slain, 
 By absence, jealousy, and pain. 
 
 III. 
 
 Ah ! What will mitigate my doom,? 
 
 The silent tomb. 
 Ah! "What retrieve departed joy? 
 
 Inconstancy. 
 Or say, Can ought but frenzy bear 
 
 Thjs tempest of despair? 
 
 IV. 
 
 All other efforts then are vain, 
 To cure this soul-tormenting pain, 
 That owns no other remedy, 
 Than madness, death, inconstancy. 
 
 Vivaldo had scarcely finished reading and 
 replacing the scroll, when a vision (for such 
 it appeared to the eyes of the spectators) ap- 
 peared in the person of the beautiful Marcella, 
 leaning on a rock just above them. Ambrosio 
 casting his eyes upon her, exclaimed, " Comest 
 thou, fierce Basilisk of these mountains, to 
 see if the wounds of this unhappy man whom 
 thy cruelty hath slain will bleed afresh at thy 
 presence ? Tell us at once the cause of thy 
 appearance, that I, who know how devotedly 
 Chrysostom when alive obeyed thee, may, 
 
54 DON <JUIXOTE. 
 
 now he is dead, dispose his friends to the 
 same obedience." 
 
 " I come not," answered Marcella, " for 
 the purpose of insult, but to demonstrate how 
 unreasonably I am blamed for the sufferings 
 and death of Chrysostom ; Heaven, you say, 
 has given me beauty; nay such a share of it 
 as compels you to love me contrary to your 
 resolutions ; from which you draw the infer- 
 ence that it is my duty to return your passion. 
 Tell me, if Heaven that hath made me beau- 
 tiful, had created me a monster of deformity, 
 should I not have had to retort the charge of 
 insensibility on your side. 
 
 " By the help of that small capacity with 
 which I am endowed, I comprehend that what 
 is beautiful, is lovely ; but it does not follow 
 that the object which is beloved for being 
 beautiful, is bound to love in return; and 
 even granting the beauty to be equal on both 
 sides, the inclinations may not be mutual, for 
 all sorts of beauty do not equally affect the 
 beholder. 
 
 " If Chrysostom died by the impatience of 
 his own extravagant desires, why should my 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 56 
 
 innocent reserve be inveighed against ? I am 
 free, and will not be subjected ; I neither love 
 nor hate any man, but amuse myself with the 
 care of my flocks, and the harmless conversa- 
 tion of the villagers of the neighbouring 
 hamlets. Finally, my desires are bounded by 
 these mountains ; or if my meditations soar 
 beyond, it is only to contemplate the beauty of 
 the heavens; those steps by which the soul 
 ascends to its original mansion/' 
 
 Then without waiting for any reply, she 
 vanished among the thickets, leaving all pre- 
 sent amazed at her beauty and sentiments. 
 Some of the bystanders made a shew of follow- 
 ing her steps, without taking warning from 
 her ingenuous declaration and the fatal in- 
 stance before them of disregarding it; but 
 either deterred by the threats of Don Quixote 
 (who thought it a proper occasion for his 
 interposition) or more probably influenced by 
 the entreaty of Ambrosio that the funeral rites 
 should be concluded, no one moved, and the 
 grave being now prepared and the papers 
 destroyed, the body with due solemnity was 
 deposited with a flat stone over it, on which, 
 
6 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 Ambrosio proposed to have engraved the fol- 
 lowing inscription. " Here lies the corpse 
 of an unfortunate lover ; he died under the 
 rigour and disdain of a beautiful ingrate, who 
 exercised over him the full tyranny of imperial 
 love." 
 
 Then sprinkling around the grave flowers 
 and branches of shrubs, the company, after 
 condoling with Chrysostom's friend Ambrosio, 
 separated. Don Quixote directed his course 
 towards the mountains with the avowed inten- 
 tion of clearing them from the banditti with 
 which they were reported to be infested ; but 
 other occurrences presented themselves, 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 WHICH TREATS OF THE ACQUISITION OF MAMBRINO ? S 
 HELMET, AND RENCONTRE WITH THE CULPRITS 
 CONDEMNED TO THE GALLIES. 
 
 DON QUIXOTE and Sancho Panza had not 
 travelled far, when they discovered at a dis- 
 tance a man riding with something on his 
 head that shone like gold. It immediately 
 occurred to the knight that it could be no 
 other than the very helmet of Mambrino, of 
 which he had so solemnly vowed to get pos- 
 session. The correct state of the case was 
 this; the population of the neighbourhood 
 being scanty, and the few villages so little 
 separated from each other that one barber 
 served for all ; this operator was now on his 
 way to bleed at one of them ; and to save 
 himself from a shower of rain had covered 
 his head with his brass bason, which glittering 
 
! 
 
 58 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 at a distance, Don Quixote would insist was 
 a helmet in spite of Sancho's remonstrances to 
 the contrary. When the knight approached 
 the unlucky wight, he couched his lance with 
 full intention to run him through the body ; 
 exclaiming, u Defend thyself, cowardly cai- 
 tiff, or surrender what is my right." The 
 barber, who little thought of such a phantom 
 pressing on him, had no other means of avoid- 
 ing the thrust of the lance than by throwing 
 himself off his beast ; and no sooner was he 
 on the ground, than he bounded up like a 
 cork, and flying over the plain, left the bason 
 in the middle of the road. 
 
 Don Quixote, elated with his conquest, ex- 
 claimed, See the discretion of the Pagan ; he 
 imitates the beaver, who when pursued by the 
 huntsman, tears off with his teeth what he 
 knows by natural instinct is the object of their 
 pursuit; he then called Sancho to take up 
 the helmet, who turning it about in his hand, 
 observed that it was an excellent bason, and 
 worth at least a crown : then gave it to his 
 master, who putting it on his head and not 
 finding the visor, said, " Without doubt the 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 59 
 
 Pagan for whom this famous helmet was 
 made, must have a monstrous head." 
 
 Sancho, hearing the bason again termed a 
 helmet, could not well repress his laughter ; 
 but perceiving his master's anger, he checked 
 his mirth ; and the barber's bason being thus 
 received as a helmet, he thought by right of 
 warfare he might avail himself of the ass's 
 trappings that belonged to the shaver, and 
 which were preferable to his own pannels. 
 
 After this exploit the knight and his squire 
 pursued their course on the road, and had not 
 proceeded far before they fell in with a party 
 of men strung together like beads, having a 
 large iron chain about 'their necks and hand- 
 cuffed ; with them were two men on horse- 
 back armed with carbines, and two on foot 
 with swords and lances. As soon as Sancho 
 saw them, these said he are a party of con- 
 victs, compelled by the king to serve on board 
 the gallies. " How compelled," replied the 
 knight, " is it possible that the king com- 
 pels people against their will to serve 
 him ?" " I mean to say," answered Sancho, 
 " that on account of their delinquencies they 
 
60 DON QUIXOTE, 
 
 are compelled to serve on board the king's 
 gallies/' 
 
 " The result then is/' rejoined Don Quixote, 
 " that these people are obliged to go against 
 their inclination ; and I, in virtue of my office 
 to help the oppressed and succour the miser- 
 able, am obliged to interfere in their behalf.' 
 " I advertise your Worship/' replied Sancho, 
 " that justice, which acts for the king, pu- 
 nishes in this manner these people for theij* 
 misdemeanors." 
 
 By this time the galley-slaves chained toge- 
 ther, had come up ; and Don Quixote with 
 much courtesy requested of the guard to 
 acquaint him with the reason of their being 
 thus treated. One of the horsemen answered, 
 that they were galley-convicts, going to 
 the place of their destination ; that was all 
 he had to say, nor was more necessary to be 
 known. 
 
 Don Quixote still pressing his request, the 
 other horseman said, " We have no leisure to 
 take out and read the register of the crimes 
 and sentences of these miscreants ; but if you 
 have a mind to question them as they go 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 61 
 
 along, they are ready enough to recount the 
 history of their misdeeds." 
 
 Upon this permission, the knight went to 
 the first in the row and asked him the cause 
 of his being in such evil plight. He replied, 
 that it was for being desperately in love. 
 " For love," rejoined the knight, cc if all lovers 
 are sent to the galleys, it is a wonder I have 
 not been tugging there myself." 
 
 " Your amours and mine were most likely 
 different," said the other, " I fell in love with 
 a basket of fine linen, which I embraced so 
 closely, that justice was scarce able to release 
 it from my grasp : the case was clear, my 
 shoulders were accommodated with a few 
 hundred lashes, and I was recommended to 
 amuse myself for three years on board the 
 gallies." The same question being put to the 
 second, he answered not a word but looked 
 very sorrowful : and the first who had been 
 questioned, replied for him, saying, " He 
 goes to the gallies for being a canary-bird, or 
 in other words, for singing." " What !" said 
 Don Quixote, " are musicians and singers 
 sent to the gallies?" " Yes," replied the 
 
62 DCTN QUIXOTE. 
 
 other, " he that sings once in the way I allude 
 to, will have cause to weep for the rest of 
 his life." 
 
 " This is beyond my comprehension/' said 
 the knight ; here one of the guard interposed, 
 and said in explanation, that the singing that 
 was meant, was confessing crimes in the hope 
 of pardon ; which amongst thieves was ac- 
 counted dastardly ; as supporting the pain of 
 torture ultimately enabled them to escape 
 punishment ; and any one failing in this sort 
 of spirit was sure to be maltreated by the 
 others. 
 
 Don Quixote passing on to the third and 
 questioning him, received for answer, that he 
 was making a visit to the gallies for having 
 wanted ten ducats. " I would give twenty 
 with all my heart," said the knight, " if I 
 could relieve you from this misfortune." 
 " That offer," rejoined the other, " is like 
 throwing money away to recover what is lost 
 in the sea. I say could the opportunity return, 
 and I had the twenty ducats your Honour 
 speaks of, I would oil the secretary's pen and 
 work upon the magistrate's disposition in such 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 63 
 
 a manner, that I should presently be walking 
 in the squares of Toledo instead of being 
 dragged along the road like a dog ; but God 
 is merciful, and patience is what must be re- 
 sorted to." 
 
 Passing by several others, the knight came 
 to a man of about thirty years of age and of a 
 good countenance, except that he squinted 
 much : he was accoutred differently from the 
 others, having a chain that encircled the 
 whole of his body with rings for the throat ; 
 and moreover fastened with padlocks and 
 fetters in such a manner that he could neither 
 raise his hands to his mouth, nor bend his 
 head to his hands. 
 
 Don Quixote asked why so much precau- 
 tion was taken to secure this man. The 
 guard answered, " Because he has committed 
 more crimes than all the rest together ; and is 
 so daring that fettered as he is, we are not 
 without some fear of his escaping." " How 
 can his delinquencies be so great," rejoined 
 Don Quixote, " if no other punishment is 
 awarded than his being sent to the gallies ?" 
 
 " He is sent for ten years," replied the 
 
64 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 other, " which is a kind of civil death ; and 
 you need not inquire further when you are 
 informed that this person is the famous Gines 
 de Passamonte, alias Genesello de Parapilla." 
 " Mr. Commissary," said the party in ques- 
 tion, " proceed fair and softly and do not 
 displace names and surnames : I am called 
 Gines and not Genesello, and my family name 
 is Passamonte and not Parapilla. It may 
 happen that my turn may come round again, 
 and then look to it ; it is now as it pleases 
 God ; but some day or other some one shall 
 know whether my name be Genesilla de 
 Parapilla or not." " Sir Knight, if you 
 have any thing to give, give it in God's name, 
 and do not fatigue yourself in enquiries about 
 other people's affairs. As to mine, you may 
 inform yourself from my own history written 
 with these ten fingers ; and there is not a 
 better written book in the Spanish language : 
 nevertheless, misfortune as a thing of course 
 attends merit." 
 
 " Roguery, you mean," said the Commis- 
 sary, interrupting him. " I have already 
 given you a hint, Mr. Commissary, that I am 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 65 
 
 not disposed to put up with ill-treatment, nor 
 have your superiors given you any orders to 
 inflict it. Let me however but once get free 
 again and all old scores shall be paid off." 
 The commissary with the back of his sword 
 would have answered Passamonte's menaces, 
 had not the knight interposed, observing, that 
 as the prisoner's hands were shackled it was 
 no wonder he took advantage of the liberty of 
 his tongue: then addressing himself to the 
 whole body of the prisoners, he said ; " My 
 friends, although I know that you deserve 
 punishment for your offences ; yet it appears 
 to me this kind of punishment is not agreeable 
 to you, and that you go this journey very 
 much against your inclination. Therefore, 
 as Heaven has placed me on earth in the 
 capacity of a knight-errant to relieve the un- 
 fortunate, I shall in courtesy first entreat these 
 gentlemen commissaries to release you all, as 
 the king may find others just as able to serve 
 him and you do not appear so inclined ; and 
 if entreaty will not avail, I shall then make 
 use of my sword, lance, and the valour of my 
 arm to effect it." 
 
 F 
 
m DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 " A fine joke truly," exclaimed one of the 
 commissaries f " he has brought his speech to 
 a most notable conclusion ; as if we had au- 
 thority to release the king's prisoners, or he a 
 right to require it. Go your way, Mr. Swag- 
 gerer, in good hour and let your tongue rest 
 without seeking for a cat with three legs." 
 
 " You are a cat, and a rat, and a rogue 
 into the bargain," replied Don Quixote in a 
 fury ; and without a word further, attacking 
 him that held the dialogue, he unhorsed him 
 with a severe thrust with his lance. The 
 other guards were so astonished at this sudden 
 movement, that they could not at the moment 
 assist their companion : in the instant the 
 galley convicts seized the opportunity to 
 break their chain, and Sancho having aided 
 Gines de Passamonte to free himself from his 
 fetters, they all ranged on the side of Don 
 Quixote, and the guards found it most prudent 
 to make their escape. Sancho, though he had 
 taken a part in the business, could not but 
 reflect on the consequences ; and very ear- 
 nestly entreated his master to proceed to some 
 place of refuge : but the knight chose first to 
 
flON QUIXOTE. 67 
 
 harangue the convicts, who having stripped 
 the disabled commissary, had now gathered 
 around him. 
 
 He reminded them of the great benefit he 
 had conferred on them in their release ; and 
 in confidence of their gratitude, desired them, 
 with the chain about their necks, to repair to 
 the city of Toboso, and testify in the presence 
 of his mistress Dulcinea the success of his 
 interference in their behalf. Gines de Passa- 
 inonte, however, in the name of all, repre- 
 sented the imprudence of their travelling in a 
 body, as the greatest care was necessary to 
 elude the search of the Holy Brotherhood ; 
 that they were willing to manifest their ho- 
 mage to the lady Dulcinea by their prayers ; 
 but to expect them to turn back in the way 
 he mentioned, was as wild a thought as to 
 look for stars at noon day, or gather pears 
 from an elm. To this Don Quixote replied 
 in a rage, " Then Genesilla de Parapilla, or 
 whatever may be your name, you shall carry 
 the chain yourself." 
 
 Passamonte, who was not of the meekest 
 disposition, and who had discovered the weak 
 
 F 2 
 
68 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 side of the knight, gave the wink to his com- 
 panions, who turning a little aside, poured a 
 volley of stones on Don Quixote, whose shield 
 did not so well shelter him as Sancho's con- 
 trivance of stepping behind his ass. 
 
 In short, after a few vollies, the knight 
 measured his length on the ground ; his ar- 
 mour however not being easily uncased, pre- 
 vented his being stripped, as was the case 
 with Sancho who had lost his doublet in the 
 fray. The galley convicts having left them, 
 and Don Quixote being raised from the 
 ground by Sancho, his master observed, that 
 conferring favours on the low minded was 
 like throwing water into the sea ; and that he 
 was now sorry he had riot attended to San- 
 cho's advice, but that another time he would 
 be more wary. 
 
 " Yes," said Sancho, " your Worship will 
 take warning as much as I am a Turk ; how- 
 ever as you are in this complying way, will 
 you now hearken to what I say, and secrete 
 yourself from the Holy Brotherhood, for me- 
 thinks I already hear their arrows whizzing 
 in my ears." 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 69 
 
 "I know Sancho," replied the knight, 
 " that naturally thou art a coward ; but that 
 thou mayst not say I am wholly obstinate, I 
 will retire agreeably to thy advice." He then 
 turned towards the mountains, followed by 
 Sancho on his ass. Night approaching, they 
 sheltered themselves amongst the trees ; the 
 knight as usual resting against one of their 
 trunks, whilst Sancho at some little distance 
 reposed upon his ass's back. As ill-luck 
 would have it, Gines de Passamonte having 
 separated from his companions, took to the 
 same place of refuge ; and perceiving Sancho 
 so situated and in a deep sleep, contrived, 
 by placing two forked props to receive the 
 the ass's pannel, and cutting the girths, to 
 withdraw the beast and leave Sancho to 
 straddle in the air. 
 
 When morning broke, and Sancho per- 
 ceived his loss, the air was rent with his 
 moans ; Don Quixote, moved to compassion 
 by his violent exclamations, promised to re- 
 pair his loss by the gift of some asses' colts 
 that he had at home ; so that Sancho in some 
 degree consoled, was better reconciled to the 
 necessity of following his master on foot. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 OCCURRENCES ON THE BROWN MOUNTAIN MELTING 
 WITH CARDEN1O. 
 
 DON QUIXOTE pursued his way wrapped up 
 in reveries on the various adventures that 
 knights-errant were liable to meet with in 
 such inhospitable tracts as they were now 
 entering; whilst Sancho pensively followed, 
 not yet reconciled to the loss of his companion 
 Dapple ; when looking up, he beheld his mas- 
 ter attempting to raise something that lay on 
 one side of the path with the point of his 
 lance ; and being called to assist, he with 
 some difficulty lifted up a portmanteau fas- 
 tened with a chain and padlock; but so 
 spoiled by the weather as to be open on one 
 side, from whence appeared some fine shirts 
 and other linen of equal quality ; and in a 
 handkerchief in one corner a parcel of gold 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 71 
 
 crowns. When this article met the eyes of 
 Sancho, he exclaimed, " Thanks to Heaven 
 for one lucky hit at last ;" then searching 
 further he found a pocket-book richly orna- 
 mented, which he gave to his master, who 
 desired him to take charge of the money. 
 
 Don Quixote, after considering a while, 
 gave it as his opinion that these things must 
 have belonged to some traveller, who having 
 lost his way, had been murdered by robbers. 
 But Sancho observed, that had robbers been 
 concerned in the business, the clothes, much 
 less the money would not have been left. 
 His master then searched the pocket-book in 
 order to obtain some clue to the discovery of 
 the owner, and finding a written paper, he 
 read it aloud to Sancho as follows : 
 
 " Your false promises and my ill-fortune 
 have sent me where you will as soon hear of 
 my death as of my complaints : you have cast 
 me off, Ingrate, for one who is not devoted to 
 you as I am. The impression your beauty 
 has made has been effaced by your conduct. 
 May you however remain in peace and igno- 
 rance of the deceitfulness of him to whom you 
 
72 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 are betrothed, and never have to repent of 
 your conduct ; nor I be under the necessity 
 of taking that vengeance I do not wish." 
 Don Quixote's desire to know the owner of 
 the portmanteau was not a little increased by 
 the perusal of these lines ; conjecturing from 
 the style of writing, together with the contents 
 of the portmanteau, that he must be some 
 person of condition driven to despair by an 
 unfortunate attachment. Dwelling on this 
 idea, he pushed on followed by Sancho (who 
 had thoroughly rummaged for every thing 
 valuable) till they found themselves begirt 
 with thick woods and mountains ; when sud- 
 denly they descried a man leaping from rock 
 to rock and bush with all imaginable agility : 
 he appeared half naked, his beard thick and 
 matted, and his head uncovered. 
 
 Don Quixote made sure of his being the 
 owner of the portmanteau, and would have 
 speedily followed his footsteps, had not Sancho 
 (who was not very anxious for such a dis- 
 covery as being likely to occasion the restitu- 
 tion of the property) earnestly besought his 
 master not to be left alone in so frightful a 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 73 
 
 place. The knight slackening his pace, pro- 
 ceeded gently on till they came to a spot 
 where a mule, girted and bridled, lay dead 
 and half devoured by birds and beasts of prey. 
 This left little doubt of the owner of the port- 
 manteau and mule being one and the same, 
 and the individual they had seen skipping 
 among the bushes, the very identical person. 
 Whilst they were looking at this object, they 
 heard a shepherd's whistle, and presently a 
 flock of goats appeared coming down the side 
 of the mountain, and after them a venerable 
 looking goatherd. When he came up, he 
 expressed his surprise at seeing them in a place 
 where nothing but goats and wolves were to 
 be met with, and a few poor huts occupied 
 by goatherds. Don Quixote informed him of 
 their having seen the portmanteau lying by 
 the road side, and requested to know what 
 information he could give respecting the 
 owner of it and of the mule before them. 
 
 The goatherd replied, " About six months 
 ago a young man of genteel appearance, 
 mounted upon the mule that lies there and with 
 the described portmanteau, passed through 
 
74 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 the village at some distance and enquired for 
 the most secluded part of these mountains ; 
 which being shewn to him, he galloped on 
 and we neither saw nor heard of him for 
 some time, till the neighbouring goatherds 
 informed us of a wild man having assaulted 
 them, taken their victuals, and then disap- 
 peared. We made a party to go in search 
 of him, and found the very person we had 
 seen on the mule concealed in the hollow of a 
 cork tree, but so disfigured in his countenance 
 by the hardships he had undergone, that it 
 was with some difficulty we knew him again. 
 
 " He saluted us courteously, and we re- 
 quested of him to tell us who he was ; but he 
 would say nothing further than that he led 
 this kind of life in penitence for his sins. 
 
 " The provisions we offered, he took with 
 many thanks, and promised in future he 
 would use supplication, not violence to obtain 
 support. Whilst talking in this reasonable 
 way and lamenting his misfortunes, on a sud- 
 den he became silent, knit his brows, clenched 
 his fists, and seizing upon the nearest of us, 
 would have torn him to pieces had he not 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 75 
 
 been rescued from his grasp ; at the same 
 time exclaiming, * Treacherous Fernando, 
 restore me my reason of which thou hast 
 bereaved me, or these hands shall tear from 
 thy heart the wickedness that is lodged 
 there.' 
 
 " From these circumstances we judge that 
 his madness comes on by fits and starts, and 
 that some person by the name of Fernando 
 had done him a deadly injury/' 
 
 At this moment the very individual as above 
 described made his appearance, issuing from 
 a narrow inlet amongst the bushes. Don 
 Quixote instantly alighted from Rozinante, 
 and with much courtesy embraced and held 
 him in his arms for some time; whilst the 
 stranger placed his hands upon Don Quixote's 
 shoulders, and stedfastly gazed upon him as 
 if to recollect him, with as much wonder at 
 the appearance of Don Quixote, as Don 
 Quixote testified with respect to him. 
 
 The tattered knight was the first to break 
 silence. " Certainly, Sir, said he, whatever 
 motives may impel your courtesy, I am igno- 
 rant of the cause, and can only return my 
 
76 BON QUIXOTE. 
 
 poor thanks for this expression of your good 
 will." To this Don Quixote replied ; 
 
 " So great is my desire to be of service to 
 you that I am resolved not to leave these 
 deserts till I can learn the reason of your 
 being in this forlorn state, so that I may be 
 enabled to offer you all possible consolation ; 
 and if your affliction is beyond mortal remedy, 
 at least to bewail with you your melancholy 
 fate. I adjure you therefore by her whom 
 you most have loved, to unfold the cause of 
 your leading this sort of life." The forlorn 
 stranger, hearing these humane words from 
 the knight of the rueful countenance, stared 
 over and over again at him, and then said ; 
 
 " For the love of charity if you have any 
 food let me have it, and when I have satisfied 
 my hunger you shall be informed of every 
 thing I have to relate." Sancho producing 
 his wallet and the goatherd his scrip, the 
 contents of each were seized in the wildest 
 manner, and one mouthful after the other 
 swallowed till the stranger's hunger being 
 appeased, he made a sign that they should 
 accompany him to a spot clear of the over- 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 77 
 
 hanging wood, and seating himself with them 
 on the grass, he thus began ; 
 
 " If you are desirous, gentlemen, that I 
 should relate the misfortunes of my life, I 
 must first apprize you that the least interrup- 
 tion will cause me to break off, as the immen- 
 sity of my suffering is too painful to admit of 
 repetition. My name is Cardenio, my native 
 place the province of Andalusia ; in the same 
 part of the kingdom dwelt a damsel, equal to 
 myself in the goods of fortune and of the most 
 superior beauty. On her my earliest affection 
 was placed, which was answered as much as 
 her tender age permitted ; and this attach- 
 ment in our maturer years was crowned with 
 the sanction of our parents for our future 
 union. In that happy time what letters 
 passed ! what verses were transmitted ! till at 
 length these Elysian days were clouded over 
 by my father's taking me aside and saying, 
 that the Duke Ricardo (who had great pos- 
 sessions in that part of Spain) was desirous of 
 having me in his family as companion and 
 tutor to his eldest son, and that this was 
 such an opportunity of advancement as was 
 
78 DON QUIXOTSE. 
 
 not to be neglected. This intelligence was a 
 thunderbolt to me, and there was scarcely 
 time before my departure to concert a plan of 
 correspondence with Lucinda. 
 
 " I was received kindly by the Duke 
 Ricardo, and treated with so much cordiality 
 by the family, that independent of the favour 
 of the eldest son, the second (who was a gay 
 and gallant youth) took so much to me that 
 I was the depository of all his secrets. 
 
 " Amongst other intrigues, he informed me 
 of his being much in love with the daughter 
 of a rich tenant of his father who was as dis- 
 creet as she was beautiful ; and that he was 
 determined to carry her off under the pretence 
 of marriage. I endeavoured to dissuade him 
 from his purpose, and he, fearful of my ex- 
 posing his plan, soon devised a scheme to 
 deceive me, by saying that he would withdraw 
 for a while ; and to excuse his absence, ask 
 his father's permission to take me with him to 
 assist in purchasing some horses which were 
 famous in the township I came from. 
 
 " In the interim he had taken effectual 
 measures for the young woman's ruin, and 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 79 
 
 being weary of possession was ready for any 
 other pursuit. Desirous of once more seeing 
 Lucinda, I had no objection to the journey, 
 and Don Fernando was received with the 
 greatest respect by my father, as I was with 
 the greatest joy by Lucinda. My heart being 
 thus exhilarated, I could not refrain from 
 making Don Fernando acquainted with my 
 happiness, and he prevailed on me to let him 
 have an opportunity of viewing Lucinda from 
 her window. 
 
 " At one gaze he lost all recollection of 
 former beauties, and was so lavish of his 
 praises, that I soon saw the folly I had com- 
 mitted. Henceforward not a scrap of paper 
 that bore her hand-writing but what was 
 eagerly looked at by him ; and one day per- 
 ceiving in my hand a quotation of her's from 
 the romance of Amadis de Gaul, a book she 
 was passionately fond of, " 
 
 The moment a book of chivalry was men- 
 tioned, Don Quixote, forgetting Cardenio's 
 charge, broke silence, saying, " The excel- 
 lence of L<ucinda's understanding is at once 
 manifested by her partiality to this sort of 
 
80 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 reading ; and if, Sir, you can prevail on her to 
 come to the village of my abode, she might 
 fully enjoy her taste, as I have more than three 
 hundred volumes of books of chivalry, which 
 are the delight of my soul and nourishment of 
 my life." 
 
 Whilst Don Quixote was speaking, Car- 
 denio let fall his head upon his breast and 
 appeared in deep thought ; then suddenly lift- 
 ing it up, said, " Nobody shall persuade me 
 otherwise than that the villain Master Elizabat 
 was very intimate with Queen Madusina." 
 Don Quixote with great wrath contradicted 
 his assertion, declaring that Queen Madusina 
 was too high-minded to degrade herself by an 
 intimacy with a man so much beneath her ; 
 and that whoever said to the contrary was a 
 liar and a scoundrel. A paroxysm of mad- 
 ness having at this seized Cardenio, and 
 hearing himself called liar and scoundrel, he 
 snatched up a stone that lay at hand, and 
 threw it with such force against the knight's 
 breast, that he fell backwards stunned with 
 the blow. Sancho coming to his master's 
 assistance, attacked the madman with his 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 81 
 
 clenched fists, but was well pummelled, as 
 was the goatherd who came to his rescue ; and 
 when Cardenio was satisfied with drubbing 
 them all round he withdrew to the mountain. 
 Sancho in a rage at the blows he had 
 received, proceeded in revenge to quarrel 
 with the goatherd ; and their beards and hair 
 were in no little jeopardy, when Don Quixote 
 being nearly recovered, prevailed on them to 
 desist; and notwithstanding the sample he 
 had had of Cardenio's madness, he would 
 fain have had another meeting, but could 
 gain no further intelligence of his haunts than 
 had been already communicated. 
 
 
 G 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 DON QUIXOTE SEQUESTERS HIMSELF IN THE BROWN 
 MOUNTAIN. 
 
 THE goatherd having taken his leave, the 
 knight remounted Rozinante and directed 
 Sancho to follow, who did it with no good 
 grace, for they were now entering the most 
 rugged part of the mountain and Sancho's 
 fears proportionally increased ; at last he 
 broke silence, saying ; " My worthy and good 
 master, give me your blessing and allow me 
 to return home to my wife and children ; for 
 to pass days and nights in these wilds is being 
 buried alive." " The case is, Sancho," re- 
 plied his master, " that you want to be bab- 
 bling; let me hear what you wish to say." 
 " In the first place," said Sancho, " please to 
 inform me what we had to do with that 
 Queen with a long name whom God con- 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 83 
 
 found ; for what did it signify to us whether 
 Master Abat was her friend or not? Had 
 you not meddled with that affair you would 
 have escaped the pebble stone that nearly 
 drove the breath out of your body, and myself 
 the pummelling I received from the mad- 
 
 man." 
 
 " You must be informed, Saneho," rejoined 
 his master, " that it is the bounden duty of a 
 knight-errant to take up the cause of any 
 female, and particularly of so high-born a lady 
 as Queen Madasina ; and I repeat again, that 
 he lies in his throat, whoever scandalizes her; 
 and in vindicating her cause I do but adhere 
 to the first law of chivalry." 
 
 " To be sure," added Saneho, " it is a most 
 capital law in this same profession, to go after 
 a madman in these wild places, who when he 
 is met with, may put a finish to the joke by 
 aiming a blow at our heads instead of our 
 breasts." 
 
 " It is not so much after the madman that 
 I traverse these deserts," rejoined Don Quixote, 
 " as for the performance of an exploit that 
 shall make my name resound through the 
 
84 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 universe. Know, Sancho, that when a person 
 aims at superiority, he takes his model from 
 the highest pitch of excellence ; so the painter 
 when he takes his palette in his hand, fixes 
 his eyes upon originals in his art : thus, when 
 the sufferings of a hero are to be described, 
 Homer's picture of Ulysses presents itself; or 
 if piety and virtue are the objects of descrip- 
 tion, Virgil's yEneas occurs as the fittest ex- 
 ample ; not that in either of these cases the 
 models so chosen could be exactly imitated ; 
 nor do I flatter myself in being able to rival 
 the very Phoenix of all characters in the 
 annals of chivalry, whom I place before my 
 eyes in the person of Amadis de Gaul ; 
 preferring the course he took to that of the 
 furious Orlando, who when he discovered 
 Angelica's partiality to Medoro, tore up the 
 rocks and woods, and would have rent the 
 foundations of the earth in his rage; whereas 
 Amadis de Gaul silently secluded himself 
 under the name of Beltenebros or the fair 
 obscure, deploring the disdainful treatment 
 of his mistress Oriana with tears and the 
 deepest lamentations." 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 85 
 
 "'But what cause," said Sancho, " has 
 your Worship to imitate any of these people ? 
 Whoever said that your lady Dulcinea was 
 disdainful, or had any affair with Moor or 
 Turk ?' " That/ 5 replied Don Quixote, " is 
 the very test of the question ; if I, without 
 cause, exceed in suffering those who had 
 reason for despair, by so much the more shall 
 my name stand enrolled in the annals of fame. 
 Therefore, friend Sancho, without any more 
 words, I shall begin to strip myself of my 
 armour and to the very skin, that you may 
 bear witness of the hardships and penance I 
 am going to endure amongst these rocks ; and 
 above all things let me beseech you to take 
 care of Mambrino's helmet." 
 
 " My good master," replied Sancho, " I 
 am quite beside myself and lose all patience 
 when I hear you talk in this manner about 
 knight-errantry, and still insist that the bar- 
 ber's bason is a helmet : what can I conclude . 
 but that your judgment is bewildered. The 
 bason, bruised as it is, I have in my wallet, 
 and I hope to have the use of it for my beard 
 if ever I have the fortune to return to my cot- 
 
80 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 tage and see my wife and children again/' 
 Don Quixote calmly said to him, " You are 
 certainly, Sancho, very dull, not to see how 
 we are beset with enchanters who turn every 
 thing topsy turvy, so that what in my eyes 
 appears a helmet, is by their sorcery trans- 
 formed in yours into a bason : but have pa- 
 tience, friend, time will soon unravel all these 
 mysteries." 
 
 Being arrived at the foot of a rising spot 
 that stood alone with a rill of water flowing 
 on its skirt, that refreshed the surrounding 
 lawn and shrubs, Don Quixote exclaimed ; 
 " This is the spot, O Heaven ! that is destined 
 to receive an unfortunate lover. Here my 
 tears shall increase the flowing stream, and 
 my sighs gently agitate the mountain trees. 
 
 " Ye rustic Deities, ye Naiads and Dryads, 
 look with an eye of pity on a disconsolate 
 lover, doomed to a long absence from the idol 
 of his affections. And you, Dulcinea del 
 Toboso, star of my fortune and guide of my 
 footsteps, bear in mind the privations I en- 
 dure to make myself worthy of your esteem." 
 
 At the end of this rhapsody Sancho ap- 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 87 
 
 proached to receive his commands ; and after 
 Don Quixote had made many fruitless attempts 
 to beat into Sancho's head the subject of an 
 epistle to his mistress Dulcinea, he recollected 
 that he might avail himself of Cardenio's 
 pocket-book, and write in the leaves of it 
 what Sancho might afterwards get transcribed 
 into the proper form of a letter, and the fol- 
 lowing pithy production was written : 
 
 " Sovereign and superior lady, he that is 
 wounded to the heart by the pains of absence, 
 sends you those wishes for your health, which 
 he cannot entertain for himself; and notwith- 
 standing your beautiful person disdains his 
 passion, it is nevertheless as strong as durable. 
 Sancho my squire will inform you of the par- 
 ticulars of my situation ; if you are disposed 
 to assuage my grief, say so ; otherwise my life 
 is ready to be yielded to satisfy your cruelty. 
 
 " Your dying knight 
 
 " Of the rueful countenance." 
 
 When this epistle was read to, Sancho, he 
 declared that his master's mistress must have 
 
88 DON QUIXOTE, 
 
 a heart of stone if not affected by it ; and on 
 Don Quixote's giving him the order for the 
 ass's colts to indemnify him as he had pro- 
 mised, for the loss of Dapple, he began to 
 consider that it would take a long time to 
 perform the journey on foot, and therefore 
 proposed proceeding on the morrow with Ro- 
 zinante, in which his master acquiesced. In 
 the interim it occurred to Sancho that it was 
 necessary to obtain some precise information 
 with respect to Dulcinea's abode, as the city 
 of Toboso was a large place. 
 
 To his application on this point, Don 
 Quixote observed, " that the very few times 
 he had been blessed with the sight of the 
 divine object of his affection, put it out of his 
 power to be particular as to her residence ; 
 for her father Lorenzo Corchuelo and her 
 mother Aldonza Nogales had brought her up 
 in the most retired manner." fe What," said 
 Sancho, " is my lady Dulcmea the daughter 
 of Lorenzo Corchuelo? I knew her well, and 
 will answer for her throwing a bar as far as 
 any young fellow in the place. Bless my 
 heart what a wench ! able to play at quarter 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 89 
 
 staff with any knight-errant whatever ; and 
 then what lungs ! I well remember her being 
 in the belfry of a village church one day and 
 calling to some of her playmates in a field 
 half a league off, and she was heard as dis- 
 tinctly as if they had been close to the tower ; 
 and (what is more to the purpose) she is not 
 at all coy, but romps to the utmost. There- 
 fore, Sir Knight, it is idle to fall into these 
 pranks for one who may be won without 
 much trouble." 
 
 Don Quixote could but ill conceal his 
 chagrin at this freedom of expression ; but 
 repressing himself, said, 
 
 " I will tell you a story, Sancho; a rich 
 and handsome widow fell in love with a fat 
 and apparently stupid lay-brother ; her nearest 
 of kin expressed their surprise at her partiality 
 to one so much her inferior; she replied, 
 ( Aristotle in my eyes had not more subtlety 
 of wit than the very person you consider as so 
 deficient.' So I hold Dulcinea del Toboso in 
 my estimation as high as a princess, painting 
 her in my imagination on a par with the most 
 famous women of modern or ancient times." 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 S ANCHO'S MEETING WITH THE CURATE AND BARBER 
 OF DON QUIXOTE'S VILLAGE. 
 
 SANCHO having taken leave of his master, and 
 according to his suggestion collected branches 
 and boughs of trees to strew on the road in 
 order to find his way back again ; and Rozi- 
 nante, (as if by instinct knowing that they 
 were bending their course homewards) going 
 on at a great rate; towards evening an inn 
 came in view, where the curate and barber of 
 Don Quixote's village were seated at the door 
 to enjoy the cool air. 
 
 Sancho, having been enjoined secresy by 
 his master, as to the object of his journey, 
 would fain have slipped on one side and 
 avoided his town-mates ; but this attempt 
 rousing their suspicion, they accosted and 
 roughly questioned him as to what had be- 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 91 
 
 come of the knight ; and to his evasive replies, 
 added threats of having him taken up for 
 making away with his master and stealing his 
 horse. Sancho was then obliged to disburden 
 his secret, and inform the curate and barber 
 of all that had happened since his master had 
 left the village ; he told them further that he 
 was charged with a letter to his mistress 
 Dulcinea del Toboso, who was no other than 
 Aldonzo Lorenzo's daughter. 
 
 Although well acquainted with the peculiar 
 species of Don Quixote's madness, the dhrate 
 and barber were amazed at the progress of it, 
 and desired Sancho to shew the draft of his 
 master's letter to his mistress, which the curate 
 promised to transcribe in a fair and legible 
 hand. Sancho beginning to search for the 
 pocket-book, and missing his charge, (for he 
 had forgotten to take it from his master) grew 
 pale as death ; then seizing his beard tore it 
 by handfuls, at the same time belabouring his 
 nose and face in such a manner as caused the 
 blood to flow plentifully. The curate and 
 barber seeing him make so free with himself, 
 asked him what had happened ; 
 
92 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 " What has happened," exclaimed the 
 Squire, " I have lost and let slip through my 
 fingers several ass's colts which my master 
 wrote an order for, at the same time he gave 
 me the pocket-book in which was written the 
 letter to my lady Dulcinea." Sancho being 
 assured by the curate and barber that his 
 master's bounty with respect to the ass's colts 
 would be confirmed; and having informed 
 them he retained the letter by rote, at the 
 instance of the curate he set about the recol- 
 lecticfn of it. After a long suspence and a 
 variety of gestures, he began with saying that 
 he was sure it commenced with " Subterrene 
 and sublime princess," went on with " the 
 smitten, sore, and sleepless," and concluded 
 with " Yours till death, the knight of the 
 rueful countenance." 
 
 The hearers were not a little diverted at 
 this specimen of Sancho's memory ; and began 
 to deliberate about the means of withdrawing 
 his master from his wild undertaking, and 
 conducting him back to his own habitation. 
 
 The scheme they adopted was well fitted 
 to the knight's disposition. It was proposed 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 93 
 
 that the barber Master Nicholas should be 
 dressed as a lady-errant soliciting a boon, and 
 the curate to accompany her as an esquire ; 
 and Sancho was given to understand, that 
 their project was to make Don Quixote an 
 emperor, who would then have it in his power 
 to promote him to the utmost of his wishes. 
 Having thus adjusted their undertaking, on 
 the following morning they set out, taking 
 with them the best substitutes they could find 
 at the inn, for the garb suitable to the charac- 
 ters they had to sustain. On the way Sancho 
 gave them an account of the rencontre with 
 the madman; and being come to the place 
 where the boughs were scattered as a guide 
 back to the spot where Sancho had left his 
 master, he was sent forward to advise him of 
 the party's approach. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 CONTINUATION OF CARDENIO's NARRATIVE. 
 
 WHILST Sancho Panza proceeded through 
 the bye-paths of the mountain to regain his 
 master Don Quixote, the curate and barber 
 seated themselves by the side of a gentle rill, 
 where there was an agreeable shade from the 
 trees and rocks on its banks ; and the sun 
 being now at its height in one of the hottest 
 days of summer, they were very comfortably 
 situated. Whilst thus enjoying themselves, 
 an agreeably toned voice unaccompanied by 
 any instrument, struck their ears. The hour, 
 the time and solitude, together with the man- 
 ner of singing, caused no little surprise ; for 
 what is said by the poets of the music of the 
 woods and fields is more exaggerated than the 
 truth ; and what they heard could not by any 
 latitude be ascribed to rustics. 
 
DON QUIXOTE. '95 
 
 Having continued attentively to listen, the 
 following stanzas distinctly reached their ears. 
 
 I. 
 
 Oh ! sacred friendship ! mild and gay, 
 
 Who to the regions of the blest 
 Hath soared, and left mankind a prey 
 
 To fraud, in thy resemblance drest ; 
 
 II. 
 
 Auspicious hear, and hither send 
 Thy sister Truth with radiant eyes, 
 
 To brand the false professing friend, 
 Detected in the fair disguise. 
 
 III. 
 
 Or come thyself, and re-inspire 
 
 The purpose candid and humane, 
 Else Peace and Order will retire, 
 
 "While Horror and Confusion reign. 
 
 At the close of the sonnet, the voice gave a 
 deep sigh and was silent ; and as the hearers 
 stept forward to satisfy their curiosity, they 
 perceived a man of the same appearance as 
 described by Sancho, with his head reclining 
 on his breast, and entirely disregarding their 
 approach beyond a first look. The curate 
 who was a well spoken man, went up to him 
 

 96 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 and addressed him in a few pathetic words, 
 persuading him to quit so deplorable a manner 
 of life, which perverted the very end of his 
 being. Cardenio, who at this moment was 
 in one of his lucid intervals, surprised at being 
 thus accosted by a person so different from 
 those he was accustomed to see in these parts, 
 and who seemed not ignorant of his affairs, 
 made answer ; 
 
 " Gentlemen, I plainly perceive, that Hea- 
 ven, merciful to all, has sent without my desir- 
 ing it, divers persons into these unfrequented 
 tracts to set before my eyes the sort of life I 
 lead, in order to prevail on me to quit it ; and 
 not finding me disposed to comply, they set 
 me down as one of disordered intellects ; but 
 they know not my reasons for thinking that in 
 quitting this situation I may be plunged into 
 a worse. Therefore, as you, gentlemen, may 
 come with the same intent, before you pro- 
 ceed to admonish one incapable of consolation, 
 listen to the circumstances that have brought 
 me to this deplorable state." 
 
 This relation being what the curate and 
 barber longed to hear, and Cardenio receiving 
 
DON QUIXOTE $7 
 
 no interruption as before (when the name of 
 Amadis de Gaul was mentioned) went on 
 with his recital from that part, saying ; 
 
 " I had now determined to ask Lucinda in 
 marriage, and Don Fernando, after passing 
 the highest encomiums on her discretion and 
 good qualities, offered his best services with 
 our respective parents : nevertheless, he had 
 it in his mind at this very time to deprive me 
 of her preference ; for having himself con- 
 ceived a violent passion for her, he thought it 
 might be best pursued in my absence ; and 
 therefore, under pretence of procuring money 
 for the payment of the horses he had pur- 
 chased, caused me to return to his father's 
 castle. Whilst through his management I 
 was purposely delayed in this errand, a man 
 brought me a letter, the superscription of 
 which was in Lucinda's hand-writing, and the 
 contents as follow : 
 
 " ( Know, Cardenio, that the intercession 
 undertaken by Don Fernando with our 
 respective parents has operated to further his 
 own purpose more than to your advantage. 
 He has himself offered to espouse me ; and my 
 
 H 
 
98 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 father, swayed by the superiority of his rank 
 and wealth, has given his consent; the 
 nuptials are to be celebrated without delay. 
 Think what I suffer on this occasion and come 
 to my assistance before my hands are joined 
 to one of such dishonourable principles/ 
 
 " The treachery of Don Fernando was at 
 once disclosed by this letter ; and I made no 
 delay in returning home and repairing to the 
 usual place of interview with Lucinda, who 
 accosted me in these words : ' Cardenio, I am 
 now attired in my bridal dress, and this mo- 
 ment expected in the hall by the traitor Don 
 Fernando and my covetous father, who shall 
 bear witness of my death sooner than of my 
 marriage.' 
 
 " In despair, and hardly able to summon 
 my thoughts to my assistance, I however de- 
 termined on being present at what was going 
 forward ; and knowing well all the avenues 
 to the house, I was able in the confusion that 
 generally prevails on these occasions, to 
 secrete myself behind the hangings of one of 
 the windows ; and it was not long before the 
 company with the bridegroom and his atten- 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 91? 
 
 dants entered the room. What were then the 
 throbbings of my heart, and the suggestions 
 that at that juncture agitated me ; but before 
 I could mature my thoughts, Lucinda's ap- 
 pearance with her mother and female atten- 
 dants disconcerted my faculties ; in a perfect 
 state of stupor I neither saw nor heard any 
 thing ; till nearly at the end of the ceremony, 
 when the clergyman asked Lucinda the fatal 
 question of acceptance or rejection of, Don 
 Fernando ; 
 
 " At this moment, thrusting out my head 
 in an agony of despair from behind the hang- 
 ings, I heard the word yes pronounced by 
 Lucinda in an under tone of voice ; and who 
 then laying her hand on her breast, swooned 
 away in her mother's arms. Lucinda's faint- 
 ing threw the whole company into confusion 
 and her mother opening her bosom to give 
 her air, found a folded paper, which Don 
 Fernando seized and read by the light of the 
 torches ; then sat down in a pensive attitude 
 totally disregarding the situation of his bride. 
 Perceiving the whole family in disorder, my first 
 thoughts urged me to vengeance ; but on the 
 
 H2 
 
100 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 recollection of Lucinda's apparent dereliction 
 of me, I was completely subdued, and had 
 scarcely strength to quit the place ; but hav- 
 ing regained the street I mounted my mule 
 and passed through the city without the least 
 reflection where I was bending my steps, until 
 at length I plunged into these remote se- 
 questered spots, where I lead a life nearly 
 akin to the brutes of the field, with the ex- 
 ception of a few lucid intervals that Heaven 
 yet bestows on me. 
 
 ft My usual habitation is the hollow of a 
 cork tree, from whence when urged by neces- 
 sity I sally out and strip the peasants of their 
 food ; at other times, when not oppressed by 
 the inGrmity of my understanding, I beg and 
 entreat relief from them. In this manner my 
 woeful and wretched life passes, until it shall 
 please Heaven to put an end to it, or give me 
 grace to forget -the beauty and falsehood of 
 Lucinda, together with the ills I have suf- 
 fered through the perfidy of Don Fernando." 
 
 The curate together with the barber (being 
 both men of much feeling) were not sparing 
 in the good office of pouring the balm of pity 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 101 
 
 into the cup of human misery ; when their 
 sympathy was again called forth by the me- 
 lancholy accents of distress issuing from an 
 adjoining thicket in these mournful words ; 
 " Would to God I could find a place to re- 
 pose under this wearisome burthen of life ! 
 This very spot indeed seems to yield what I 
 ask, if I can trust to the solitary appearance 
 of these mountains. Alas! how much more 
 agreeable is the company of these rocks than 
 that of faithless man." The curate and those 
 with him stepping a few paces forward, be- 
 held from behind some bushes, a youth (in 
 appearance) habited as a peasant and sitting 
 at the foot of an ash-tree, whose .countenance 
 was concealed by his stooping over a rill of 
 water to wash his feet, which resembled two 
 pieces of crystal among the pebbles of the 
 stream ; their beauty and whiteness were 
 such, they seemed scarcely fitted to tread the 
 earth, much less to follow the plough or herd 
 of oxen as his habjt bespoke. 
 
 As he had not perceived their approach, 
 the curate gave a sign to his companions to 
 remain concealed, and they stood gazing at 
 
102 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 the apparition (for it seemed no other) who 
 now wiped its feet with a cloth which it drew 
 from beneath its cap ; and in so doing let fall 
 such a profusion of hair, that the auburn 
 tresses not only overspread the shoulders, but 
 the whole body, and discovered that the sup- 
 posed peasant was no other than a delicate 
 woman : and whilst her hands which were 
 like the drifted snow, parted her ringlets, a 
 countenance was displayed of such exquisite 
 beauty, that Cardenio could not help exclaim- 
 ing, " If this be not Lucinda, it must be some 
 Divinity." 
 
 His voice together with the rustling of the 
 boughs, alarmed the phantom, who quickly 
 seizing a bundle near her, betook herself to 
 flight with the utmost precipitation ; but be- 
 fore she had fled many yards her delicate feet 
 failed her, and the curate coming up, accosted 
 her thus ; 
 
 * " Stay, madam, though disguised by dress, 
 your hair and extreme beauty discover your 
 sex; let your alarm however subside, and 
 confide in our assurances of sympathy and 
 service in whatever way your situation may 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 103 
 
 render expedient." Whilst the curate pro- 
 nounced these words, the disguised damsel 
 stood in amaze without moving her lips : but 
 the curate in soothing terms pressing her to 
 disclose the cause of her adopting a dress so 
 unworthy of her real situation, she with a 
 deep sigh breaking silence, said ; 
 
 " Since my retiring into these sequestered 
 parts has not sufficed for my concealment, 
 that my reputation may not suffer in your 
 opinion, or that I should appear disregardful 
 of your attention, I will succinctly relate the 
 circumstances of nay ill fate. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 DOROTHEAS STORY, AND RETURN OF DON QUIXOTE 
 FROM THE BROWN MOUNTAIN. 
 
 " IN the province of Andalusia there is a town 
 which gives a title to one of those dukes who 
 are called Grandees of Spain. This noble- 
 man has two sons, one (the eldest) heir to the 
 virtues as to the honours of the family ; the 
 other the slave of every vice and artifice. 
 
 " My parents are vassals to this nobleman, 
 and though of humble extraction are rich in 
 the goods of fortune ; amongst which they 
 considered me as their chiefest gift. I was 
 the staff of their old age and shared with hea- 
 ven their attention and desires ; by my advice 
 their affairs were managed ; and their oil 
 mills, vineyards, flocks and herds, superin- 
 tended. 
 
 " In the intervals of leisure needle-work 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 105 
 
 occupied me, together with the perusal of 
 improving books ; to which was joined the 
 cultivation of music, from the conviction of its 
 efficacy in composing the mind, and as an 
 antidote to dejected spirits. 
 
 " This account I give of myself, not from 
 ostentation, but that you may sympathize in 
 the unforeseen reverse of my lot, for living in 
 the most retired manner, and never going out 
 but with my mother and her maids to mass, it 
 was not to be supposed that any mischief was 
 likely to arise ; nevertheless on one of those 
 occasions, the duke's youngest son passing by 
 at the time, love with its lynx's eyes found 
 means to infuse its unlawful desires in the 
 breast of Don Fernando.'* 
 
 At the name of Fernando, Cardenio's agi- 
 tation was so great, that the curate and barber 
 were alarmed, lest he should fall into one of 
 his paroxysms of madness ; but after frequent 
 changes of colour he became calm again, and 
 his agitation not having been perceived by the 
 fair narrator she proceeded in her story as 
 follows : 
 
106 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 " So violent was the passion with which 
 Don Fernando was seized, that all those 
 about me .were loaded with presents ; night 
 after night I was besieged by his serenades, 
 and my table covered with his letters replete 
 with testimonies of his regard; so that my 
 parents, observing these attentions, thought it 
 most prudent that I should be betrothed to 
 some one of the respectable families in the 
 neighbourhood, by way of protection against 
 the wiles of Don Fernando. 
 
 " All this opposition to his wishes served 
 only to add fresh fuel to his desires, and find- 
 ing the time approach for my becoming the 
 right of another, he contrived through the 
 perfidy of my maid to introduce himself one 
 evening at a late hour into my bed-chamber ; 
 and setting forth his attachment and his de- 
 spair at the idea of my falling into the arms 
 of another, he persuaded me to believe his 
 protestations and engagement to make me his 
 lawful wife : but notwithstanding these decla- 
 rations were sanctioned by the solemnity of 
 an oath, he scarcely repeated his visit ; and it 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 107 
 
 was not long before I heard that he was going 
 to be married to a beautiful lady of the name 
 of Lucinda.'' 
 
 At the mention of Lucinda's name, Car- 
 denio was convulsed anew, but Dorothea, 
 occupied with her own misfortunes, thus con- 
 tinned her narrative ; " Driven almost to 
 despair by the intelligence I had received of 
 Don Fernando's inconstancy, I quitted my 
 father's house in the habit of a peasant lad, 
 and repaired to the city where Lucinda's 
 parents dwelt. Here I learnt that a scene of 
 great confusion had taken place in the family, 
 and that a paper had been found in Lucinda's 
 bosom and read by Don Fernando, importing 
 that a person of the name of Cardenio, being 
 possessed of her affections, was her lawful 
 husband ; and that her meeting Don Fer- 
 nando at the altar was solely in obedience to 
 her father's injunctions. 
 
 " Further it was noised about, that from 
 the night when these transactions took place, 
 neither Don Fernando, Lucinda, nor Car- 
 denio had been heard of. 
 
 " Whilst I was weighing these circuin- 
 
108 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 stances in my mind, I heard a crier proclaim- 
 ing me as having deserted my father's house, 
 with some dishonourable reflections on the 
 circumstance: this obliged me to retire to 
 these unfrequented parts, where I have occa- 
 sionally obtained employment in tending the 
 flocks, or in such other works of husbandry as 
 my experience at home qualified me for ; but 
 I mostly pass my time in some lone place, 
 ruminating on what has befallen me." 
 
 When the beautiful Dorothea had termi- 
 nated her narrative, Cardenio taking her by 
 the hand, said, " You are then Madam the 
 lovely daughter of Cleonardo the Rich." Sur- 
 prized at this question from one in so tattered 
 a condition, she replied, " Who are you then 
 brother, who know so well my father's name, 
 which to the best of my recollection I have 
 not hitherto mentioned." 
 
 " I am," answered he, " the unfortunate 
 Cardenio, the lawful spouse of Lucinda, 
 whom treachery has reduced to the deplorable 
 state in which you behold me : but this meet- 
 ing affords a hope that heaven in its compas- 
 sion may restore us both to the possession of 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 109 
 
 our rights ; and I betfe pledge myself to spare 
 no pains to bring Don Fernando to a sense of 
 the wrongs he has done you, leaving my own 
 to the vengeance of heaven." 
 
 The curate and barber reiterated their 
 proffers of service ; they then acquainted Do- 
 rothea with the cause of their entering these 
 wilds, detailing the extraordinary turn of Don 
 Quixote's mind, and the plan they had on foot 
 to restore him to his home. 
 
 Dorothea willingly undertook to assist in it, 
 and to personate the oppressed Queen ; and 
 being given to understand that they ap- 
 proached the theatre of action, retired to 
 change her dress. 
 
 When she returned, all were surprized at 
 her great beauty ; and none more than San- 
 cho, who by this time having discovered his 
 master, had returned with the intelligence, 
 and eagerly inquired who this fine lady was, 
 and what she sought for in these bye places. 
 The curate took the opportunity of informing 
 him that she was a great princess, dispossessed 
 of her kingdom by a huge giant; and hearing 
 
110 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 of his master's wonderful prowess, she had 
 come to solicit his assistance. 
 
 Sancho, delighted with the idea, and mak- 
 ing sure that his master would kill the giant 
 and wed the princess, was as much satisfied 
 with the consequent prospect of his own pre- 
 ferment, as the by-standers were astonished at 
 his cherishing with so much simplicity the 
 same extravagance that possessed his master. 
 
 Dorothea, being presented to Don Quixote, 
 was received with much courtesy, whilst the 
 curate and Cardenio found means to mingle 
 with the company; when Dorothea (in a 
 manner previously agreed on) gave a formal 
 account of her situation and distress : at the 
 conclusion, Don Quixote assured her that he 
 would be her champion, and on the business 
 being achieved, declared his intention of 
 returning to complete his penance in devotion 
 to his mistress Dulcinea del Toboso. 
 
 Sancho, out of patience at his master's 
 declaration, raised his voice and exclaimed ; 
 " Signior Don Quixote, I vow and swear 
 that your Worship is crazy, or you would not 
 
DON QUIXOTE. Ill 
 
 be talking about the lady Dulcinea when 
 such a princess is before your eyes. How the 
 plague shall I ever obtain the earldom I am 
 promised, if your worship thus goes a fishing 
 for mushrooms at sea ?" 
 
 Don Quixote, enraged at this disrespectful 
 language, discharged two or three such heavy 
 blows with his lance on Sancho's carcase, 
 that he was fain to implore the aid of the by- 
 standers to rescue him from the effects of the 
 knight's indignation ; who, being by their 
 interference at length appeased, received San- 
 cho's apologies ; then took him aside to ask 
 some further particulars respecting his late 
 embassy : in the mean time Dorothea was 
 congratulated by the party for the address 
 with which she had performed her part. 
 
 After Sancho had wearied himself with in- 
 venting stories relative to the understood visit 
 to Dulcinea's dwelling place, he and his 
 master rejoined the company ; when a man 
 approached mounted on an ass ; and as San- 
 cho had his eyes on the alert when any thing 
 of the sort appeared, he immediately perceived 
 it was his lost Dapple, and that the man 
 
112 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 riding upon it was the famous Gines de Pas- 
 samonte. 
 
 Sancho's loud outcry soon reached his ears, 
 " Ah rogue, leave my darling let go my 
 delight get you gone thief and relinquish 
 what is not your own. Passamonte, not 
 being disposed to be questioned on the occa- 
 sion, scampered off leaving Dapple in the 
 hands of his old master; whose joy was not 
 confined to the expression of words, but over- 
 flowed plenteously at his eyes as he thus 
 addressed him How hast thou done, my 
 dearest Dapple, delight of my eyes, my sweet 
 companion he then kissed and embraced 
 him as if he had been a human creature, and 
 to complete his satisfaction, his master assured 
 him anew of the gift he had proposed of the 
 ass' colts. 
 
 Not many steps further, a young man tra- 
 velling along the road stopped and looked at 
 them very attentively ; then running up to 
 Don Quixote, he embraced his knees, saying ; 
 " Does not your Worship know me, the lad 
 Andrew whom you found tied to a tree and 
 under the lash of a countryman ?" 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 113 
 
 Don Quixote, recognizing his voice and 
 person, addressed the company, saying; " Gen- 
 tlemen, that you may have unquestionable 
 evidence of the importance of knight-errantry 
 in redressing the wrongs that the ill-disposed 
 are apt to inflict, behold a person whom I 
 delivered out of the hands of a barbarian, and 
 who would have been scourged to death, but 
 for my interference. Speak young man, and 
 say whether what I have advanced be true or 
 not." 
 
 " What you have declared," replied the 
 other, " is in part true enough, but the result 
 was quite the reverse of what you imagine ; 
 for no sooner was your Worship out of the 
 wood, than with jeers and scoffs at your 
 Worship's conduct, I was bound again to 
 the tree, and so many stripes inflicted on me 
 that I shall never be the same man again/' 
 Don Quixote not being disposed to make him 
 any other recompence than by threats of ex- 
 acting severe vengeance on the countryman 
 at a future time, the youth withdrew, not in 
 the best humour ; and in departing raised his 
 voice, saying ; 
 
 I 
 
114 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 " Let me beseech you Sir Knight-errant, if 
 ever you meet me again labouring under any 
 disaster, to leave me to my fate, for your in- 
 terference is more likely to increase than 
 remedy the evil. A curse therefore light 
 upon all such intermeddlers." Don Quixote, 
 inflamed with choler, would have followed 
 him ; but the company interposed, concealing 
 with difficulty their disposition to mirth on 
 the occasion ; and pursuing their journey, the 
 sight of an inn that they approached, turned 
 their thoughts to the prospect of some refresh- 
 ment after the fatigue of travelling. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 DON QUIXOTE'S ADVENTURES AT THE INN, AND THE 
 CAPTIVE'S STORY. 
 
 As soon as the curate and his party entered 
 the inn, a room was ordered for Don Quixote 
 who stood most in need of repose, whilst the 
 rest of the company sat down to the table to 
 take some refreshment. At this juncture a 
 traveller presented himself at the gate, who 
 by his garb appeared to be a Christian slave 
 just escaped from Barbary ; for he was clad 
 in a jacket of blue cloth, a cap of the same 
 colour, linen pantaloons, and yellow sandals, 
 with a Moorish scymetar slung across his 
 shoulders. 
 
 He was accompanied by a female in the 
 Moorish habit, mounted on an ass, with a veil 
 thrown over her head and face, and a mantle 
 fldwing from her shoulders to her feet. The 
 
 i 2 
 
116 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 man was of a swarthy complexion, of middle 
 age, robust, and if properly dressed would 
 have been taken for a respectable person. 
 
 On entering the inn he asked for a separate 
 apartment, and seemed much disappointed 
 when told that all the rooms were engaged. 
 The female inmates having gathered around, 
 Dorothea, with great sweetness of manner, 
 offered that the Moorish stranger should be 
 accommodated in the apartment assigned to 
 her- For this civility the Moorish stranger 
 made her acknowledgments by signs, crossing 
 her arms over her breast, and inclining her 
 head in a graceful manner. 
 
 The captive returned his thanks, observing, 
 that his companion was not sufficiently ac- 
 quainted with the Christian languages to 
 reply in adequate terms to their complaisance ; 
 and to the question whether she was a Moor 
 or Christian, he replied, that in her dress and 
 complexion she was a Moor, but in her heart 
 a Christian ; though having but lately arrived 
 from Algiers, there had been no opportunity 
 for her being baptized. 
 
 Dorothea being then informed that her 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 117 
 
 Moorish name was Lela Zoraida, requested 
 that she might be unveiled ; and the captive 
 by signs assenting, she discovered a face so 
 beautiful, that the by-standers acknowledged 
 it laid claim even to higher praise than had 
 been lavished on Lucinda and Dorothea. 
 
 After the company thus assembled had 
 taken some refreshment, Dorothea and the 
 beautiful Moor retired to their apartment ; 
 and as there was no other spare room, the 
 gentlemen kept together, and entreated the 
 captive to communicate his adventures for 
 their entertainment. With much complaisance 
 he acquiesced, and in a grave, manly tone of 
 voice, commenced as follows ; 
 
 " My family had its origin in the moun- 
 tains of Leon, and was more beholden to the 
 liberality of nature, than to the smiles of for- 
 tune ; nevertheless, amongst the narrowness 
 of circumstances that prevails in that country, 
 my father would have been deemed rich, had 
 he possessed the art of preserving, as he prac- 
 tised the means of spending his estate : my 
 father indeed, went beyond the bounds of 
 liberality, and trespassed on those of prodi- 
 
118 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 gality, without apparently adverting to his 
 family, consisting of three sons of an age to 
 enter into the world : nevertheless he was not 
 so deficient in energy, but that he formed and 
 put into execution a singular resolution. 
 
 " For as the old gentleman found it impos- 
 sible to resist the bent of his inclination, he 
 determined to deprive himself of the power of 
 indulging it by giving up his estate ; as with- 
 out money, Alexander himself must have been 
 frugal. 
 
 " Calling us, his children, one morning 
 into his apartment, he said ; c My sons, from 
 the improvident manner in which you must 
 perceive I waste my substance, you must be 
 led to suppose that I am rather your step- 
 father than your real one : but to evince that 
 I am not devoid of natural affection, I have 
 been taking measures to realize my remaining 
 property in ready money, and propose an 
 equal division with you of the amount. Let 
 me therefore know, how you severally mean 
 to dispose of yourselves :' for we have a saying 
 in Spain, ' The church, the sea, and the 
 King's service;' in other words, towards a 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 119 
 
 respectable career in life, the candidate must 
 qualify himself by study for the church, 
 engage in commerce, or enter the army : as a 
 situation in the king's household requires 
 more than ordinary interest. 
 
 " I declared for the army, my second bro- 
 ther proposed going as a merchant to the 
 Indies, and the youngest to Salamanca to 
 prepare for the church or the profession of 
 the law. 
 
 " In a few days our father laid before us 
 our respective shares of three thousand ducats, 
 and reserved his own in land. As a thousand 
 ducats were sufficient to fit me out with 
 necessaries as a soldier, I made over the 
 other two thousand to my father : and my 
 brothers following my example, relinquished 
 a thousand each ; so that our father was left 
 with four thousand ducats in ready money, 
 besides his own share in landed property. 
 
 " After mutual adieus and promises to 
 inform each other as well as our father of 
 what should befall us, we separated ; and 
 twenty-two years have now elapsed, without 
 
120 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 my receiving the least intelligence of either 
 my father or brothers ; what has happened 
 to me in this period I will now relate. 
 
 " Making a quick journey to Alicant, I 
 there embarked and proceeded to Flanders, 
 where I served in the Duke of Alva's cam- 
 paigns ; from whence with the rank of Cap- 
 tain, I went with a detachment of his army 
 to assist the Pope against the Turks, and was 
 present at the famous battle of Lepanto, where 
 so many Christians were rescued from slavery. 
 In that engagement, alas! I lost my own 
 liberty in boarding a Turkish galley that ours 
 had grappled with, and was carried to Con- 
 stantinople; from whence, after different 
 changes of masters, and various fruitless 
 attempts to gain my liberty, I was destined to 
 accompany a renegado named Azanaza, who 
 was vested with the sovereignty of Algiers." 
 
 At this period of the narrative, Sancho 
 came running from the garret where his 
 master Don Quixote lay, bawling aloud, 
 *' Make haste to the assistance of my master, 
 who is engaged in the most terrible combat 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 121 
 
 my eyes ever beheld ; egad, he has given such 
 a blow to the giant, as has taken off his head 
 as clean as a turnip." 
 
 " What do you mean, brother/' said the 
 curate, " are you in your right wits ? How 
 can your master be fighting with a giant who 
 is so many leagues off." 
 
 Whilst these .words passed, a great noise 
 was heard over head, which brought the inn- 
 keeper to the room ; and Don Quixote's voice 
 was plainly heard, uttering much reproachful 
 language as if to some adversary, which again 
 urged Sancho's entreaties for their aid to his 
 master ; though, he added, that he considered 
 the business pretty well over, as the floor was 
 running with blood, and the giant lay wel- 
 tering in it without his head, like a wine bag. 
 " May I never breathe again," cried the inn- 
 keeper, " if this Don Quixote or Don Devil 
 has not been cutting open one of my wine 
 bags; and this simple fellow takes the red 
 wine flowing about the room for blood." 
 
 So saying he ran up stairs with the rest of 
 the company at his heels, where they found 
 Don Quixote with his eyes shut and in his 
 
122 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 shirt, that scarcely covered his lank figure, 
 hacking and cutting with his sword, as if 
 engaged in a real combat. The inn-keeper, 
 incensed at the havoc among his wine bags, 
 rushed upon the chief actor in the scene, 
 and belaboured him so furiously with his 
 fists, that had not the bystanders interfered, 
 both the giant and the conqueror would alike 
 have laid their lengths on the floor. 
 
 Whilst they endeavoured by the aid of a 
 bucket of water to recover Don Quixote from 
 his trance, Sancho was exploring the room 
 for the giant's head, and attributing its dis- 
 appearance to the effect of enchantment. 
 
 This roused anew the choler of the inn- 
 keeper, who exclaimed; " Thou enemy to 
 God and his Saints, don't you see that what 
 you call blood is no other than red wine flow 
 ing about, and for which mad prank of letting 
 it out of my wine bags, I sincerely wish your 
 master's soul was swimming in the deepest 
 pit below/' Don Quixote, barely awakened 
 by the ablution he had undergone, fell upon 
 his knees before the curate, and with his ima- 
 gination still impressed with the feat he had 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 123 
 
 accomplished, addressed him as the Princess, 
 saying, " Your Highness may now repose in 
 peace, since by God's assistance your enemy 
 has expiated his crimes by his death." 
 Sancho hearing this, loudly expressed his joy, 
 saying, " Did I not tell you that my master 
 had put the giant in pickle: the holidays^ /^ 
 will again come round, and my Earldom fit 
 me to a hair." 
 
 Who could refrain from laughter at the 
 master and man ? for Sancho, though awake, 
 was as extravagant as his master in his dream; 
 such an impression had Don Quixote's pro- 
 mises made on his imagination. 
 
 The phlegmatic temper of the Squire, and 
 mischievous disposition of the Knight, well 
 nigh distracted the inn-keeper, who swore 
 with repeated oaths, that the privileges of 
 knight-errantry should not exempt them from 
 indemnifying him for his loss. 
 
 At length however, the knight with some 
 difficulty was put again to bed, where he fell 
 asleep in an instant, as one who had been 
 excessively fatigued : he was left to his re- 
 pose, and Sancho was pacified by the promise, 
 
124 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 that as soon as it was clear the giant's head 
 was off, he should have the best earldom in 
 the Princess's gift; the inn-keeper also re- 
 ceived assurances of satisfaction for the loss 
 he had sustained. 
 
 The quiet of the house being thus restored* 
 the captive was proceeding with his narra- 
 tive, when interrupted as will appear in the 
 following chapter. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 FURTHER ADVENTURES AT THE INN, COMPRISING THE 
 
 RESULT OP DOROTHEA'S AND CARDENIO'S STORY, 
 
 AND THAT OF THE CAPTIVE. 
 
 A LOUD knocking at the outward gate an- 
 nounced the arrival of travellers, who, to the 
 joy of the inn-keeper, formed a party of four 
 men on horseback with a lady in the midst of 
 them mounted on a mule, attended by two 
 men as lacquies on foot. 
 
 The cavaliers were armed and in masks, 
 and the lady covered from head to foot with a 
 veil. 
 
 Cardenio with the others withdrew, aud 
 tapping at the ladies' door, informed them of 
 the approach of the strangers, who now 
 entered the inn-yard; and the horsemen 
 alighting, one who appeared to take the lead, 
 took the lady in his arms off her mule, and 
 
126 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 seated her in a chair beside the door of the 
 room where Cardenio and the others had 
 placed themselves : not a word was spoken 
 by the cavaliers, nor did they unmask ; and 
 the only sign of utterance was a deep sigh 
 from the lady, who let her hands fall down 
 on each side, as if faint from weakness and 
 fatigue. 
 
 The curate took an opportunity of getting 
 out to make some enquiries of the lacquies, 
 as to the mysterious appearance of these 
 newly arrived guests. 
 
 They told him they were but lately and 
 accidentally engaged to accompany them on 
 the road to Andalusia, and had not seen the 
 countenances of any of the gentlemen who 
 travelled masked ; but they judged from the 
 lady's deportment that she did not accompany 
 them willingly. 
 
 As the curate was giving this account to 
 his companions, Dorothea came down; and 
 being urged by natural compassion at the 
 lady's situation, went into the room and 
 accosted her with offers of service ; but she 
 remained silent: and on Dorothea's further 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 127 
 
 pressing, the gentleman who seemed the prin- 
 cipal broke silence, saying ; 
 
 " Madam, do not trouble yourself in mak- 
 ing proffers of service to one, who cannot be 
 grateful for any favours ; nor importune her for 
 a reply, unless you desire to hear some false- 
 hood/' At this speech the hitherto silent 
 lady said ; " Had I been false as you repre- 
 sent me, I should not have fallen into my 
 present situation, which your falsehood, not 
 mine, has occasioned." These words were 
 distinctly heard by Cardenio (who was close 
 to the door) and they no sooner reached his 
 ears than he exclaimed ; " Heavens ! What 
 do I hear ? What voice is that which struck 
 my ears ?" 
 
 The lady with a shriek of surprize turned 
 her head, and endeavoured to rise, but was 
 restrained by her conductor ; in the struggle 
 however, her veil fell off, and she discovered 
 a most beautiful face, though somewhat im- 
 paired by grief; and her eyes wandered about 
 to every corner of the room like one in a 
 state of distraction. 
 
 Dorothea approached the lady, when the 
 
128 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 cavalier's own mask falling from his fore- 
 head, Don Fernando's countenance met Do- 
 rothea's eyes; by this time Cardenio had 
 entered the room, and was immediately recog- 
 nized by Don Fernando ; all four were struck 
 dumb with astonishment, and stood gazing 
 at each other for some minutes without utter- 
 ing a word. 
 
 The first that broke silence was the strange 
 lady (who was now known to be Lucinda) 
 she addressed herself to Don Fernando in 
 these words ; 
 
 " Suffer me, Signior, in regard to your own 
 character (since you are deaf to every other 
 consideration) to cling to that wall of which 
 I am the ivy ; to avail myself of that prop 
 from which you could not disengage me, 
 with all your importunities, promises, and 
 threats: behold how heaven, by mysterious 
 means, has brought me to my true and lawful 
 husband, from whom nothing shall now sever 
 me but death." Thus saying, she threw her- 
 self into Cardenio's arms. 
 
 Don Fernando, roused from his trance, 
 drew his sword and endeavoured to advance 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 129 
 
 and assault Cardenio, but was stopped in his 
 course by Dorothea's embracing his knees, 
 and in these impressive words bespeaking his 
 sympathy. " I am that humble maiden, 
 who, confined within the bounds of modesty, 
 led a contented life ; until, moved by your 
 importunities and seeming upright addresses, 
 I was induced to surrender the gates of re- 
 serve. Consider, my lord, that my steady 
 affection ought to counterbalance the birth 
 and beauty of her for whom I have been w 
 abandoned, and who, you must be sensible 
 appertains to another. 
 
 " Make not my parents miserable in their 
 old age; but reflect, that as most of the 
 great families ^on earth have undergone an 
 intermixture of blood, yours cannot be parti- 
 cularly debased by mingling with mine, as 
 the female's quality in no wise affects illus- 
 trious descent. In fine, you must be con- 
 scious that I am your lawful wife ; witness 
 your own words, hand-writing, and heaven 
 above." 
 
 Don Fernando, unable to resist these truths, 
 embraced Dorothea, saying, " You have 
 
 K 
 
130 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 conquered ; and although I have hitherto 
 given small proof of affection, my future con- 
 duct shall redeem the past." 
 
 He then recounted, that being opposed in 
 his attempt to sacrifice Lucinda to his resent- 
 ment, when the contents of the paper found 
 in her bosom were disclosed, he had waited 
 for an opportunity to get her into his power, 
 by carrying her off from the convent to which 
 she had retired ; but heaven having so pal- 
 pably interposed, he was not unwilling to 
 relinquish his revengeful projects, and join in 
 a general reconciliation of all parties. 
 
 This happy result gave great satisfaction to 
 all but Sancho, who in the uproar having 
 found his way to the room, and heard what 
 had passed, judged that there could be no 
 hope now of his master's marrying the lady 
 whom he had taken for a Princess, and that 
 his expected earldom was therefore in jeo- 
 pardy : for a solution of this point, he thought 
 it best to repair to his master at the first 
 opportunity. 
 
 The table being again spread for the re- 
 freshment of Don Fernando and his party, 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 131 
 
 the captive and his companion with the others 
 were introduced to Don Fernando, who, being 
 made acquainted with Don Quixote's extra- 
 ordinary turn of mind, expressed his earnest 
 desire that Dorothea should continue to carry 
 on the part assigned her in the plan for re- 
 storing him to his home. 
 
 When the ladies retired to their own apart- 
 ment, the curate recapitulated the substance 
 of the captive's story as far as had been 
 already related ; and Don Fernando's curio- 
 sity being much excited by his appearance 
 and that of his companion, he entreated that 
 he might be favoured with a continuance of 
 it from the captive's own mouth ; in which 
 he readily acquiesced in the following words : 
 
 " Arrived at Algiers, I was placed in a 
 prison called a bath, being a sort of depot for 
 Christian slaves whose ransom is agreed for 
 or expected ; and for that class of slaves con- 
 sidered as belonging to government, and em- 
 ployed in the public works. 
 
 " Here one day as I chanced to be on the 
 terrace with only one or two of my comrade 
 Christian captives, from an adjoining lattice- 
 
 K 2 
 
132 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 window over our heads, a cane, with a hand- 
 kerchief suspended to it, was waved to and 
 fro as a kind of signal. This object being 
 observed, one of my companions presented 
 himself towards it, when it was drawn up ; 
 another with no better success, made the 
 same experiment ; at last I tried my fortune, 
 when it dropped at my feet ; and the hand- 
 kerchief being untied, was found to contain 
 several pieces of Moorish coin ; for which 
 token of generosity we made our obeisance in 
 the Moorish style. 
 
 " After some interval of time, when the 
 same party of us were in the bath, the signal 
 of the cane and handkerchief re-appeared ; 
 and the prize fell again to my lot, consisting 
 of many pieces of gold, with a letter written 
 in the Arabian character : aware that the 
 paper was to disclose the mystery of this 
 affair, after much consultation on a safe 
 method of getting it translated, we deter- 
 mined on confiding in a renegado, who was 
 known to us as acting on all occasions with 
 the greatest fidelity. 
 
 " The purport of the letter was, that the 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 133 
 
 writer (though a daughter of a Moor) was 
 desirous of being received into the bosom of 
 our holy church ; and for that purpose, 
 would, on a well-concerted plan, accompany 
 us to our own country. 
 
 " With the renegade's assistance a reply 
 was prepared, expressing our devotion to her, 
 and determination to hazard every thing for 
 her and our mutual deliverance. 
 
 " In the mean time, through the rene- 
 gado's enquiries, we learnt, that the house 
 adjoining our place of confinement was inha- 
 bited by one of the richest Moors in the town 
 called Agemorata, who had a very beautiful 
 daughter called Zoraida, educated and brought 
 up by a Christian slave. 
 
 " When the opportunity suited, the signal 
 from the window was again renewed, and a 
 very large sum of money put in our hands, 
 accompanied by a billet, importing that our 
 benefactress was going with her father to his 
 country house by the sea side, and requesting 
 that no time might be lost in obtaining my 
 own and companions ransom, and effecting 
 her deliverance. 
 
134 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 " Having through the management of the 
 renegado obtained my own liberty and settled 
 the plan for Zoraida's release, I repaired to 
 Agemorata's country house ; and making use 
 of my late master's name, was freely admitted 
 to take of the produce of the garden ; and 
 the Moor himself in company with his daugh- 
 ter entered into conversation with me, on the 
 usual topics held with those who have been 
 captives. 
 
 " Whilst thus discoursing, a party of Tur- 
 kish soldiers (whom the Moors greatly dread) 
 broke into the garden to plunder the fruit; 
 and Agemorata's attention being directed to- 
 wards them, I was enabled to exchange a 
 few words with Zoraida, and inform her of 
 the plan laid for her approaching escape. 
 
 " My comrades having now also been libe- 
 rated, we all repaired at the time appointed 
 on board the bark, which had been provided 
 by the renegado with some trusty rowers; 
 and dropping down abreast the Moor's coun- 
 try seat, myself with some of the crew landed, 
 and entering the garden, found Zoraida in 
 expectation of our approach, dressed in her 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 135 
 
 richest attire, and holding in her arms a coffer 
 of jewels and gold crowns. 
 
 " Unfortunately however the trampling of 
 so many feet awaked her father, who begin- 
 ning to be vociferous, we were under the 
 necessity of carrying him on board the bark as 
 well as his daughter. 
 
 " When day broke and the Moor beheld 
 his daughter dressed in all her finery, he 
 at once comprehended the extent of his mis- 
 fortune, and was with difficulty prevented 
 from plunging into the sea. To relieve our- 
 selves and Zoraida from the bitterness with 
 which he inveighed against us, we put him 
 on shore the first opportunity, leaving him to 
 heap curses on the fate of our expedition. 
 Part indeed did not miss their aim ; for though 
 we successfully crossed over to the Spanish 
 coast, a French cruiser, or rather pirate, 
 without hailing, fired a shot, which laid open 
 our little bark, and scarcely left time for our 
 being shifted into their boat that came along- 
 side. 
 
 " Zoraida was quickly disrobed of her 
 finery, and I had to thank Heaven that no 
 
136 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 further personal rudeness was offered ; her 
 plunder was all the pirates obtained, as on 
 their coming up the renegade had slipped the 
 coffer into the sea. 
 
 " Being within a short distance from the 
 shore, we were landed towards the afternoon ; 
 when we encountered little less danger, for 
 the peasants alarmed at the boat's approach, 
 were up in arms ; fortunately, however, one 
 of our people was a native of that part of the 
 coast, and making himself known, engaged 
 their hospitable attentions to us all. 
 
 (f After a few days rest I took my departure 
 with Zoraida, who has manifested under all 
 trials the greatest patience ; and I hope to 
 find an asylum for her in the place of my 
 nativity." 
 
 At the conclusion of the narration, Don 
 Fernando with the rest of the company, ex- 
 pressed their acknowledgments for the enter- 
 tainment it had afforded ; and the night being 
 now far advanced, the remainder of it was 
 spent in comments on the novelty of the 
 incidents. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 DON QUIXOTE'S HARANGUE ON THE COMPARISON 
 
 BETWEEN ARMS AND LETTERS AND THE ARRIVAL 
 
 OF FRESH GUESTS AT THE INN. 
 
 SANCHO, who had very disconsolately retired 
 to his repose alongside of Dapple, was not 
 tardy in acquainting his master next morning 
 with the transformation of the princess into a 
 private gentlewoman ; so that when the in- 
 mates of what he called a castle, had again 
 collected together, Don Quixote, to the great 
 surprise of the [newly arrived guests, appeared 
 amongst them armed at all points, and with 
 much solemnity of manner addressed himself 
 to Dorothea in the following words. 
 
 " I am informed, madam, by my Squire, 
 that your Highness no longer retains your 
 former rank, but that by some chance of cir- 
 cumstance (doubtless influenced by the necro- 
 
138 DON QUIXOTE, 
 
 mancer who has been so much your enemy) 
 you are disposed to abandon the recovery of 
 your kingdom, although the business has been 
 so much advanced by the giant's death, who 
 fell by my hand/' 
 
 Dorothea, who was aware that it was Don 
 Fernando's wish to promote the scheme set on 
 foot for Don Quixote's recovery ; with gravity 
 assured him, that after the display already 
 made of his prowess, it would argue great 
 folly to relinquish an enterprise so favourably 
 commenced, and that, in perfect confidence in 
 the valour of his arm, she anticipated complete 
 success. 
 
 Don Quixote, turning round to Sancho in 
 great wrath, said ; " You are certainly the 
 most lying, mischievous varlet of a squire that 
 ever attended a knight-errant. Did you riot 
 this morning say that this fair lady was no 
 other than a plain damsel ? and that the head 
 I cut off was no more a giant's head than 
 your mother's, with other disrespectful ex- 
 pressions." 
 
 Sancho, who was loth enough to forego all 
 his fine prospects, and was as ready to catch 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 139 
 
 at a straw in any difficulty as his master, 
 quickly answered, " My good master, so many 
 proofs have been afforded of the interference 
 of these enchanters, that you cannot be under 
 any surprise that they should deceive so sim- 
 ple a one as myself; and if the lady be really 
 a princess, I am most heartily glad, and sin- 
 cerely ask pardon for my doubts." 
 
 This conversation afforded infinite enter- 
 tainment to the by-standers, and the curate 
 taking up himself the office of introducer, 
 Don Quixote exhibited his lank figure and 
 rueful length of countenance with all imagin- 
 able courteousness of behaviour ; which was 
 returned with equal ceremony and politeness 
 by Don Fernando and his party. 
 
 In the mean time, the inn-keeper having 
 prepared as good a repast as he could provide, 
 the inmates of the house sat down together at 
 a long hall table, Don Quixote being con- 
 strained to take the head with Dorothea by 
 his side; next to him were placed Lucinda 
 and Zoraida, fronted by Don Fernando and 
 Cardenio; adjoining to them sat the captive 
 
140 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 and the other gentlemen, whilst the curate and 
 barber took their station beside the ladies. 
 
 In this manner they enjoyed the repast, 
 which was rendered still more agreeable, 
 when Don Quixote, inspired by the same spirit 
 that moved him to harangue the goatherds, 
 began the following dissertation. 
 
 " Verily, gentlemen, great and unexpected 
 events are seen by those who profess the order 
 of knight-errantry. What inhabitant of the 
 earth, if he should now enter the gates of this 
 castle and behold us seated in this manner, 
 w r ould conceive that this lady on my right 
 hand is the great princess we know her to be, 
 and that I am the knight of the rueful coun- 
 tenance, so celebrated by the voice of fame ? 
 
 " Away with those who give letters the 
 preference to arms ; I affirm that they rest too 
 much in their own favour; the principle of 
 mental exertion being of a higher quality than 
 bodily toil ; for if to anticipate designs, and 
 to prevent the mischief that is to be dreaded 
 from stratagems, are all efforts of the under- 
 standing, the profession of arms necessarily 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 141 
 
 requires exertion of mind in as great a degree 
 as that of letters ; and if the inconveniences 
 of each be considered, the hardships of the 
 scholar may be resolved principally into the 
 privations of indigence ; and these not often 
 carried to the extreme, and not unfrequently 
 exchanged for the greatest affluence, by the 
 possession of offices naturally devolving on the 
 acquirement of knowledge : whereas the sol- 
 dier's reward, after all the privations he has 
 endured, must result from his country's pro- 
 perty and honours conferred on him by his 
 sovereign ; both in most cases sparingly dis- 
 pensed, though earned by the severest trials 
 of fortitude in every point of accommodation 
 and suffering: then, at last, instead of the 
 forms and ceremonies of taking degrees of art 
 as crowning the student's toil, comes the sol- 
 dier's day of battle, with the surgeon's appa- 
 ratus ; or a position on a bastion, where the 
 enemy is preparing a mine under his feet to 
 lay the whole in ruins." 
 
 Whilst the rest of the company were em- 
 ployed in eating, Don Quixote uttered this 
 harangue without thinking of taking a mor- 
 
142 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 sel ; and the audience, consisting chiefly of 
 gentlemen, was moved with concern at be- 
 holding a man, who on every subject seemed 
 to have a large share of sense and discern- 
 ment, lose it so irrecoverably whenever the 
 topic turned upon the theme of chivalry. 
 
 The repast being ended, and the ladies on 
 the point of retiring, a coach arrived at the 
 inn, attended by some men on horseback ; 
 they demanded lodging and accommodation 
 for their master, who on alighting from his 
 carriage, shewed by his garb the nature and 
 rank of his office as Lord Judge ; in his hand 
 he led a young lady of a sprightly and agree- 
 able countenance. 
 
 At their entrance into the room, Don 
 Quixote pronounced with great solemnity, 
 " Your Worship may recreate yourself in 
 this castle which unfolds its gates to learning 
 as well as to arms ; especially when it has for 
 its harbinger such beauty as accompanies 
 your Worship : enter, I say, this paradise, 
 where you will find suns and stars to assimilate 
 with the planet you have brought ; here you 
 
BON QUIXOTE. US 
 
 will behold arms in perfection and beauty in 
 
 excess." 
 
 The judge marvelled greatly at this speech 
 of the knight, and earnestly regarded him 
 without well knowing what reply to make; 
 when he was relieved by the rest of the com- 
 pany presenting themselves to his notice ; 
 Lucinda, Dorothea, and Zoraida proffered 
 their services to his daughter, whilst Don 
 Fernando, Cardenio, and the curate paid the 
 like attention to him. The judge's astonish- 
 ment was not however at once removed ; for 
 though lie plainly perceived his fellow inmates 
 were persons of rank and consequence, the 
 mien, figure, and visage of Don Quixote 
 baffled all his conjectures. 
 
 Compliments having taken place on all 
 sides, and the conveniences of the inn dis- 
 cussed, the table was again ordered to be 
 spread for my Lord Judge. 
 
 In the mean time, the captive, who from 
 the first moment he beheld the judge, felt his 
 heart throb with a sort of intimation that it 
 was his own brother, asked one of the ser- 
 vants the judge's name and place of nativity. 
 
144 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 The servant's reply was, that his master was 
 the Licentiate Juan Perez de Viedma, and 
 born, as he had been informed, in the moun- 
 tains of Leon. 
 
 Being thus assured of the fact, he took 
 Don Fernando, Cardenio, and the curate 
 aside, and imparted the circumstance, desir- 
 ing their opinion in what manner he should 
 make himself known to his brother. 
 
 " Leave that task, Signior Captain, to my 
 conduct," said the curate, " and do not doubt 
 of meeting a brotherly reception ; there is 
 every appearance of the judge's receiving this 
 incident of fortune in a right point of view." 
 
 Whilst discoursing in this manner, supper 
 was announced, and the captive retired apart 
 with the ladies. When the rest of the com- 
 pany were seated, the curate addressed him- 
 self to the judge, saying, 
 
 " I had once a comrade of your Lordship's 
 name at Constantinople, where I was a slave 
 for many years ; he was one of the bravest 
 soldiers, but his misfortunes kept full pace 
 with his valour and ability." 
 
 " Dear Sir," said the judge, " where was 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 145 
 
 that officer's birth place." " He was a na- 
 tive," replied the priest, " of some town in 
 the mountains of Leon, and was called Ruy 
 Perez de Viedma ; he told me a circumstance 
 that happened in his family of the most ro- 
 mantic cast : he said that his father, being of 
 a profuse turn and apprehending that he- 
 should thereby leave his children destitute, 
 took the resolution of making a division of his 
 property, retaining only a proportionable share 
 for himself, and distributing the rest amongst 
 them." The curate then proceeded to the 
 detail of his adventures in arms, with the story 
 of Zoraida ; when the judge at the end of the 
 narrative burst into tears, saying, " Oh ! Sig- 
 nior, if you knew how nearly I am concerned 
 in this relation, you would not be surprised 
 at my weakness : that valiant captive whom 
 you have mentioned is my father's eldest son, 
 who being more nobly minded than my brother 
 and myself, chose the more honourable exercise 
 of arms; I followed that of letters, which 
 has advanced me to the station which I now 
 hold. 
 
 L 
 
146 D O N Q U 1 X O T E. 
 
 " My other brother is still in the Indies, 
 where he has been so prosperous, as to have 
 been the means not only of enabling me with 
 more comfort to prosecute my studies, but 
 to put it iu the power of my father to indulge 
 his accustomed liberality ; and nothing re- 
 mains to be wished for but the return of our 
 eldest brother to the bosom of his family, 
 where ample attention would be paid to the 
 merits of Zoraida." 
 
 These and similar expressions shewed the 
 impression made on his feelings ; and the 
 curate, finding every thing succeed to his 
 expectation, was unwilling to protract the 
 judge's anguish ; so going into the inner apart- 
 ment, he led out Zoraida, who was followed 
 by the other ladies, and taking the captain by 
 the hand, he thus addressed the judge : 
 
 " Dry up your tears, my Lord, behold 
 Captain Viedma and the beautiful Moor who 
 behaved so generously to him in his distress." 
 The captain ran to embrace his brother, who, 
 recollecting his features, flew into his arms, 
 and then embraced Zoraida ; whilst all the 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 147 
 
 company sympathized in such a happy ter- 
 mination of events. 
 
 A considerable part of the night being now 
 spent, it was agreed that they should retire to 
 their repose ; and Don Quixote undertook to 
 guard the precincts of the castle. 
 
 2 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 CONTINUATION OF INCIDENTS AT THE INN. 
 
 TOWARDS morning, when a deep silence pre- 
 vailed throughout the precincts of the inn, 
 the guests were serenaded on the side next the 
 garden, by a voice, so melodious that it 
 attracted general attention, and particularly 
 that of Dorothea, who slept in the same bed with 
 Donna Clara de Viedma the judge's daughter. 
 Whilst Dorothea was listening, Cardenio 
 came to the door, saying, " You that are not 
 asleep, take notice and you will hear the voice 
 of a muleteer who chants most melodiously." 
 The voice rising again, the following metrical 
 words were plainly distinguished. 
 
 I. 
 
 " Tossed in a sea of doubts and fears, 
 Love's hapless mariner I sail. 
 Where no inviting port appears, 
 To screen me from the stormy gale. 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 149 
 
 II. 
 
 " At distance viewed, a cheering star 
 Conducts me thro' the swelling tide, 
 A brighter luminary far 
 Than Palinurus ere descried. 
 
 III. 
 
 " My soul, attracted by its blaze, 
 Still follows where it points the way, 
 And while attentively I gaze, * 
 
 Consider net how far I stray. 
 
 IV. 
 
 " But female pride, reserved and shy, 
 Like clouds that deepen on the day, 
 Oft shrouds it from my longing eye, 
 When most I need the genial ray. 
 
 V. 
 
 " O lovely star, so pure and bright, , 
 
 Whose splendour feeds my vital fire, 
 The moment thou deny'st thy light, 
 Thy lost adorer will expire." 
 
 Here the musician paused; and Dorothea 
 by gently jogging, awaked her companion 
 Clara, saying, " I ask pardon, my dear, for 
 disturbing you, but methinks you would 
 enjoy greater delight from a voice near us 
 
150 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 than from sleep." Scarcely had Clara heard 
 two lines of the song which had been again 
 resumed, than she was seized with a fit of 
 trembling like an ague, and exclaimed, " Ah ! 
 dear Lady, why did you awake me? The 
 greatest favour that fortune could at present 
 bestow, would be to keep both my ears and 
 eyes fast shut, that I might neither hear nor 
 see that unfortunate musician." 
 
 " Pray explain yourself," said Dorothea, 
 " about that musician whose voice has thrown 
 you into such disorder ; but stop for the pre- 
 sent, that J may not lose the pleasure of 
 hearing him ;" the muleteer tuning his voice 
 afresh, uttered these stanzas ; 
 
 I. 
 
 " Aspiring Hope, them unconfm'd, 
 Pursu'st th* imaginary path, 
 Thro' woods and rocks and waves combined, 
 Defying danger, toil and death. 
 
 II. 
 
 " No laurel shall adorn his brow, 
 No happiness the sluggard crown, 
 Who tamely can to fortune bow, 
 And slumber on th' inglorious down. 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 151 
 
 III. 
 
 " The joys unwatch'd bestow'd by love, 
 Can never be too dearly prized, 
 For undented examples prove 
 What's cheaply bought is soon despis'd. 
 
 IV. 
 
 " Success by the consenting fair, 
 Is oft to perseverance giv'n ; 
 Then wherefore should my soul despair, 
 Of mounting from this earth to Heaven." 
 
 During this song, Clara kept her hands to 
 "her ears ; and Dorothea's curiosity being 
 greatly kindled, Clara, at her instance, pro- 
 ceeded to unfold her story, saying, 
 
 " Dear madam, that musician is the son of 
 an Arragonian gentleman, who, during the 
 time the court is at Madrid, occupies a house 
 opposite to my father's ; and notwithstanding 
 our windows are latticed, this young man got 
 sight of me, and by various methods lias en 
 deavoured to make me sensible of his passion. 
 Being motherless, and having no one to ad- 
 vise with, I have kept on the reserve ; though 
 upon occasionally opening my window in the 
 absence of my father, he has appeared so 
 

 152 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 transported with the condescension, as to ex- 
 press in 'dumb signs his great desire for our 
 union. 
 
 " Previous to our departure from Madrid 
 I had not seen him for some days ; but just as 
 we entered the place where we lodged last 
 night, I perceived him standing at the gate, 
 disguised so naturally as a muleteer, that 
 nothing but his image being so deeply im- 
 planted in my soul could have enabled me to 
 discover him. 
 
 " I am distressed at the inconvenience he 
 thus puts himself to, and can see no good 
 result from this expedition ; his father being a 
 man of such rank and fortune, that he would 
 never consent to our union." 
 
 " Enough, Donna Clara," said Dorothea, 
 " wait with patience ; let us now sleep during 
 the little that remains of the night ; to-morrow 
 may bring about a happy termination to so 
 virtuous a beginning." Whilst the visitors at 
 the inn were engaged with the muleteer's 
 singing, the inn-keeper's daughter and maid 
 had formed a scheme to divert themselves with 
 the extravagant humour of Don Quixote, who 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 153 
 
 they knew was k'eeping guard at the front 
 gate of the inn. 
 
 Placing thetnselves therefore at the window 
 of the loft where the hay arid straw were 
 taken in, they had a full view of the knight 
 on horseback, uttering soliloquies on the per- 
 fections of the peerless Dulcinea del Toboso ; 
 and whose gallantry was further awakened 
 by his being intreated in a gentle tone of 
 voice to come towards the window. Hearing 
 this invitation, he lifted up his eyes, and by 
 the light of the moon, perceived the two 
 females at the straw-hole; which his crazy 
 imagination instantly converted into a mag- 
 nificent window; and the damsels, if not 
 princesses, at least some of their attendants. 
 
 Repairing therefore to the place, he be- 
 wailed the bonds that ri vetted him to his mis- 
 tress Dulcinea, which prevented the absolute 
 dedication of his soul to them ; but testified his 
 readiness to . be of service in any way not 
 derogatory to the fidelity of his passion to his 
 own mistress. The maid, who by this time 
 had fixed a rope with a noose to the adjoining 
 piece of timber, became the spokeswoman, 
 

 154 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 and said, that her lady who was the princess 
 of the castle, only indulged the desire of 
 beholding that hand which had performed 
 such wondrous feats. 
 
 On its being presented by the knight, he 
 observed, that it had hitherto been untouched 
 by any female, and from the contexture of 
 the sinews, she would not be surprised at the 
 exploits he had been enabled to achieve. The 
 . noose being fixed over his wrist, and the dam- 
 sels withdrawn, Don Quixote found himself 
 fastened in such a manner that his struggles 
 were fruitless ; for in order to present his hand 
 with a proper grace, he had raised himself 
 with his feet on the saddle ; so that the least 
 motion of Rozinante would now cause the 
 whole weight of his body to rest upon his 
 wrist, which had already been grasped so 
 tight as to put him to great pain. 
 
 In this state of jeopardy, Don Quixote 
 firmly believed that he was in the power of 
 some enchanter, and that there was no hope 
 for him unless he could recollect and call to 
 his assistance some one of that tribe superior 
 to the one that held him in thraldom. 
 

 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 CONTINUATION OF OCCURRENCES AT THE INN. 
 
 DON QUIXOTE having been left to ruminate on 
 his unlucky fate, and day beginning to dawn, 
 some horsemen arrived at the inn, and pro- 
 ceeded to thunder at the gate for admittance. 
 This produced a fierce wordy altercation with 
 the knight, who was not so far absorbed in 
 his ideal enchantment as to lose sight of his 
 office of guardian of the castle ; but in the 
 confusion, Rozinante stepping aside, left his 
 master suspended by the wrist, who bellowed 
 so loudly from the pain he suffered, that the 
 inn-keeper's daughter and maid, fearful of 
 detection in their trick, speedily loosed the 
 rope ; which at once brought him to the 
 ground, in a humour little adapted to a pacific 
 termination of the dispute with the intruders. 
 The inn-keeper being at length awakened 
 
156 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 by the uproar, came to the gate ; and explain- 
 ing to the travellers the nature of the knight's 
 malady, their surprise abated, and they began 
 to enquire about a youth they were in quest 
 of, whose description exactly accorded with 
 Donna Clara's lover. The inn-keeper said, 
 that there were so many people in his house 
 he could give them no particular intelligence ; 
 but the new-comers, espying the judge's coach 
 in the yard, concluded that the object of 
 the search was not far off: so making a strict 
 examination, the youth was found asleep by 
 the side of a muleteer, and awakened by the 
 salutation of one of his father's domestics in 
 the following terms ; 
 
 " Truly, Signior Don Lewis, this is a very 
 suitable dress for one of your quality; and the 
 bed on which you now lie, admirably adapted 
 to the delicacy in which you have been 
 brought up." 
 
 The youth, rubbing his sleepy eyes, and 
 scarcely able to speak from his sudden sur- 
 prise, exclaimed, " How did my father know 
 of my travelling this road, and in this habit?" 
 " A student," replied the man, " to whom 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 157 
 
 you had imparted your intention, moved by 
 the sorrow that took possession of your parents 
 on your being missed, disclosed your scheme ; 
 and we accordingly have been dispatched to 
 restore you to their longing eyes." This con- 
 versation being overheard by the muleteers, 
 one of them went and communicated what 
 was passing to Don Fernando, Cardenio, and 
 the rest of the company, who all repaired to 
 the spot where the servants were pressing the 
 young gentleman to allow himself to be con- 
 ducted home, which he as strenuously resisted. 
 The disturbance this affair occasioned reached 
 the ears of the judge, who desiring to be in- 
 formed of the circumstances, one of the servants 
 recognizing him, replied, " My Lord Judge, 
 do not you know that young gentleman, your 
 neighbour's son ? he has absented himself 
 from his father's house in a dress wholly un- 
 becoming his quality, as you may perceive." 
 
 The judge, recollecting his features, took 
 him by the hand, saying, " What frolic is 
 this, Don Lewis ? What powerful cause has 
 induced you to come hither in a garb so un- 
 suitable to your rank and fortune ?" 
 
138 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 The tears gushing into the youth's eyes, the 
 judge led him aside ; when the young gentle- 
 man, pressing both the judge's hands, with 
 great earnestness said ; 
 
 " Dear Sir, I can give you no other reason 
 for this adventure, than, that from our being 
 neighbours, I was blessed with a sight of your 
 daughter Donna Clara ; I became enamoured 
 of her, and for her forsook my father's house 
 in this disguise that I might follow her through 
 the world, though she knows no more of my 
 passion than my looks may have disclosed ; 
 and if your inclination, my Lord, does not 
 oppose my happiness, this very day I am 
 agreeable to espouse her." 
 
 The judge found himself rather perplexed 
 in his determination ; for being well aware of 
 the young man's rank and fortune, the advan- 
 tage of such a match for his daughter was too 
 evident to escape his penetration : for the 
 present therefore, he made no other reply, 
 than to desire him to detain his father's ser- 
 vants a day or two, that he might consider 
 what steps would be most proper to be taken 
 for the satisfaction of all concerned. 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 159 
 
 Just as the quiet of the inn was on the point 
 of being re-established, the very barber, from 
 whom Don Quixote had seized Mambrino's 
 helmet, and Sancho the ass's pannel, entered 
 the inn-yard ; and as he led his beast to the 
 stable, perceiving Sancho mending something 
 belonging to an ass's furniture, and knowing 
 him at first sight, he exclaimed, " Ha, Don 
 Thief, have I caught you at last. Restore my 
 bason and pannel with all the furniture you 
 stole from me." Sancho, hearing this de- 
 mand, accompanied with such reproachful 
 language, with one hand kept hold of the 
 pannel, and with the other handled the barber 
 so roughly, that he cried out, 
 
 " Help in the King's name ; this robber 
 wants to murder me because I endeavour to 
 recover my own property ; and together with 
 this pannel, I was robbed of a new brass bason 
 that cost me a good crown." 
 
 Don Quixote corning up amongst the rest, 
 could not contain himself when he heard this 
 mention of the bason, but addressing the com- 
 pany, said, " Gentlemen, with regard to the 
 pannel I will not interfere ; but this shaver 
 
160 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 errs in his judgment in calling that a bason, 
 which I am ready to maintain is the very 
 helmet of Mambrino ; bring hither therefore 
 that piece of armour for the inspection of this 
 good company." 
 
 Upon its being produced, the curate and 
 barber for general amusement, resolved to 
 encourage the knight's extravagance in this 
 point ; and Master Nicholas entered upon the 
 question with his professional brother ; " Mr. 
 Barber," said he, " I am of the same trade 
 and well acquainted with all the instruments 
 of the art : I have moreover been a soldier in 
 my youth, and can distinguish the different 
 kinds of armour worn in the field ; I say there- 
 fore (under correction and with submission to 
 the better judgment of this good company) 
 that the object in question is not a bason but 
 a helmet; not indeed entire, as it wants a 
 beaver." 
 
 Cardenio, Don Fernando, and his com- 
 panions taking the hint, seconded this asseve- 
 ration of Master Nicholas, to the great sur- 
 prise of the poor shaver, who now saw his 
 property in the greatest jeopardy, and ex- 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 claimed ; " Good God ! Is it possible that so 
 many honourable persons should pronounce 
 this bason to be a helmet? I suppose the 
 pannel must therefore be a horse's accoutre- 
 ment." 
 
 " To me it appears a pannel," replied the 
 knight ; " but whether it belongs to a horse's 
 or an ass's accoutrement, J leave to the judg- 
 ment of this company, who not being knights- 
 errant as I am, are not perhaps subject to the 
 enchantments of this place." 
 
 " Doubtless," answered Don Fernando, 
 " Signior Don Quixote manifests his own 
 prudence by this reference; and I will in pri- 
 vate take the opinions of the company and 
 state the result of my inquiry." 
 
 The mixed feelings of the company (of 
 those who were in the secret and those who 
 were ignorant of the joke) were not a little 
 exercised by Don Fernando's going with great 
 gravity from one to the other to take their 
 suffrage, and then giving the verdict against 
 the barber, who could only exclaim against 
 the injustice of the proceeding ; till seconded 
 by one of the troopers of the Holy Brother* 
 
 M 
 
162 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 hood who had entered with the servants of 
 Don Lewis, and had been witness to the 
 quarrel and question that had been under dis- 
 cussion. He in a furious tone expressed his 
 choler and displeasure, which soon produced 
 a general disturbance in the inn. 
 
 In this fray, Don Quixote assaulted the 
 trooper sword in hand, who being joined by 
 his companions (stationed along the public 
 roads) was not so easily to be pacified ; but 
 the rank of those who had encouraged this 
 freak prevented any great mischief. 
 
 However, Don Quixote's appearance and 
 conduct took the attention of the trooper so 
 much, that it occurred to him he had a war- 
 rant for the apprehension of a person of a 
 similar description ; therefore pulling out a 
 bundle of parchment and comparing the phy- 
 siognomy of the knight with the marks speci- 
 fied in the warrant, he discovered that he 
 was the very person. 
 
 Holding therefore the parchment in one 
 hand, and seizing the knight by the collar 
 with the other, he roared aloud, " Help, in 
 the name of the Holy Brotherhood ; and that 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 163 
 
 you may see my demand is just, read the 
 warrant for apprehending this highwayman." 
 The indignation of Don Quixote at being- 
 treated in this manner, together with the 
 additional epithets bestowed upon him by the 
 other troopers, hardly allowed him the power 
 of utterance ; he at length burst forth in these 
 words, " Come hither ye rogues in a troop, 
 ye robbers licensed by the Holy Brotherhood, 
 and tell me what ignorant wretch signed a 
 warrant against such a knight as I am. 
 
 " What blockhead but knows that no gen- 
 tleman's charter contains so many rights and 
 privileges as adhere to a knight errant. Come 
 hither I say, and bear evidence that my single 
 valour is sufficient to annihilate all the 
 troopers in the kingdom." Whilst Don 
 Quixote harangued in this manner, the 
 curate was busily employed in representing 
 (aside) to the troopers that he was a man 
 disordered in his intellects; and talked so 
 effectually on the subject, whilst the knight 
 acted such extravagancies, that the troopers 
 must have been the most mad, if they had not 
 plainly perceived his defect. 
 
 M 2 
 
164 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 Therefore, by the curate's arguments, re- 
 enforced by the generosity of Don Fernando, 
 they were induced to forego their claims on 
 Don Quixote's person, and took upon them- 
 selves as officers of justice, to mediate be- 
 tween Sancho and the barber, who had been 
 continuing the fray with the greatest animo- 
 sity. 
 
CHAPTER XVIIL 
 
 DON QUIXOTE DE LA MANCHA'S RETURN TO HtS 
 HABITATION. 
 
 SOME days having now elapsed at the inn, in 
 the eventful manner before related, the com- 
 pany were disposed to separate for the prose- 
 cution of their own objects ; and a plan was 
 therefore proposed for conveying Don Quix- 
 ote home, without putting Don Fernando, in 
 particular, to the inconvenience of going out 
 of his road. 
 
 Towards accomplishing this, a large wag- 
 gon was hired, and a cage of sufficient size 
 to secure the knight's person, prepared ; 
 then all the company at the inn, having dis- 
 guised themselves, rushed into Don Quixote's 
 apartment, who, from some prank or another, 
 lay too much overcome with fatigue to resist 
 or recognize any thing. 
 
166 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 Having encaged him, and engaged some of 
 the troopers as an escort, the curate and 
 barber took their leave of all parties ; and 
 with Sancho Panza in charge of his master's 
 steed and armour, proceeded towards their 
 own village. 
 
 When they had travelled some distance on 
 the road with this equipage, six or seven well 
 mounted men came up, at the head of whom 
 was a canon of Toledo, who, from the 
 accompaniment of the troopers, supposed 
 some great delinquent was carrying along. 
 Inquisitive as to the cause, they were referred 
 by the waggoner and troopers to the knight 
 himself for an explanation, who said to the 
 strangers ; 
 
 " Gentlemen, if you are skilled and con- 
 versant in the legends of chivalry I will com- 
 municate my misfortunes, otherwise there is 
 no occasion for my fatiguing myself with the 
 relation." By this time the curate and bar- 
 ber, perceiving the traveller's attention di- 
 rected towards Don Quixote, came up, and 
 taking the canon aside, informed him of the 
 particulars of the knight's malady, and that 
 
BON QUIXOTE. 167 
 
 he was secured in this cage, in order that he 
 might be conveyed home and some remedy 
 applied to his distemper. The canon was 
 astonished at this relation, and said ; " Truly, 
 Mr. Curate, I am persuaded, that these books 
 of chivalry are very prejudicial ; for though 
 from a false taste and idle curiosity I have 
 been induced to take up many, I never could 
 peruse the whole of one of them, and consider 
 them, even with respect to amusement, as 
 much inferior to Apologues, which have a 
 tendency to instruction as well as to delight ; 
 this in either point can hardly be said of the 
 extravagance of books of chivalry." 
 
 The curate (though differing a little as to 
 romances) being much pleased with the good 
 sense of the canon, led to further conversa- 
 tion on the subject of criticism; and the 
 canon observed, that notwithstanding his ob- 
 jections to books of chivalry, works of imagi- 
 nation in skilful hands might be applied to 
 the best purposes; for the writer having 
 events in his own hands, might so arrange 
 and adorn them as to combine instruction 
 
168 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 with delight; and that he himself had made 
 some progress in a book of this description, 
 but had discontinued it from the considera- 
 tion of its being likely to fall into the hands 
 of those, least able to form a just judgment of 
 its- merits; for upon adverting to the public 
 taste, it was evident that the same rule of 
 judgment would be observed with respect 
 to one book of imagination as the other, and 
 the monstrous and absurd, as in the drama, 
 bear away the general suffrage. 
 
 " Mr. Canon," said the curate interrupting 
 him, " the subject you now glance at 
 awakens in me a dislike to plays, almost as 
 strong as you seem to hold with respect to 
 books of chivalry. 
 
 " Comedy, according to the old school, 
 should be the mirror of life and manners, not 
 as at present, the caricature of both : it is not 
 sufficient that diversion should be the prin- 
 cipal object; improvement should be so 
 blended with it, as to inspire affection for 
 virtue and abhorrence of vice." Thus far 
 had the canon and curate proceeded, when 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 169 
 
 Master Nicholas observed that the present 
 spot would be a good place to halt, as there 
 was abundance of grass for the cattle. 
 
 The curate approving of the proposal, and 
 the canon not being inclined to part company 
 with them, sent his attendants onward to the 
 inn, retaining only the sumpter mule, and 
 the servant with it to set out the contents of 
 the basket upon the verdant carpet of the 
 lawn before them. Before they sat down to 
 the repast, the canon made intercession for 
 Don Quixote's partaking of it with them ; 
 who, agreeably to the canon's suggestion, 
 promised on the faith of a knight to return to 
 the cage when the time came for their depar- 
 ture. 
 
 When Don Quixote took his seat amongst 
 them, the canon, touched with compassion for 
 his infirmity, thus addressed him ; 
 
 " Is it possible, good Sir, that the idle and 
 unlucky reading of works of chivalry can 
 have so far impaired your judgment, as that 
 you should give credit to illusions, as far 
 from being true, as truth is distant from false- 
 hood. Is it possible, I say, that the mind 
 
170 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 of a person of education should be reduced to 
 such a pass, as to make it necessary that he 
 should be cooped up in a cage, and tran- 
 sported in a waggon, like a beast exhibited 
 for shew. Go to, Signior Don Quixote, have 
 pity on yourself, return into the bosom of 
 discretion, and put those happy talents which 
 heaven has conferred on you to a better use, 
 by employing your genius in studies that may 
 redound as much to your credit, as to the 
 good of your soul." 
 
 Don Quixote listened with infinite atten- 
 tion, and after regarding the canon stead- 
 fastly, answered in these words ; 
 
 " Signior Hidalgo, the scope of your dis- 
 course, if I am not mistaken, was to repre- 
 sent to me, that books of chivalry are unpro- 
 fitable and mischievous ; and that I have been 
 to blame in reading, believing, and still more 
 in imitating the characters they describe ; 
 and that you moreover go so far as to deny 
 that there ever was either an Amadis of Gaul 
 or Greece." 
 
 "Such," replied the canon, " was my pre- 
 cise >meaning." 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 171 
 
 " Why then," exclaimed Don Quixote, 
 " the person impaired in his understanding is 
 no other than your worship, who has pre- 
 sumed to utter such blasphemies : for to say 
 that there never was such a person as Amadis 
 of Gaul, or any other of those adventurous 
 knights with whom history abounds, is like 
 endeavouring to persuade people that frost is 
 not cold, and that the sun affords no light, or 
 the earth any sustenance." 
 
 " It may be so," resumed the canon, " but 
 by my holy orders, I am not bound to believe 
 the accounts of such a rabble of knights' 
 errant, or the rhodomontades that are brought 
 forward in the legends of knight-errantry." 
 
 The conversation taking this decided turn 
 was no very savoury relish to the repast ; 
 however, on its being finished, Don Quixote, 
 agreeably to his promise, allowed himself to 
 be replaced in the cage on the waggon! 
 
 When the canon took his leave and the 
 troopers were discharged, they had no great 
 way to travel to Don Quixote's abode. 
 
 Towards the dusk of the evening they ar- 
 rived at the village, and the curate and 
 
172 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 barber delivered the knight into the hands ot 
 his housekeeper and niece ; giving them a 
 strict charge that they should keep a watch- 
 ful eye over him, that he might not escape 
 from the house again after the trouble they 
 had experienced iu bringing him home. 
 
 END OF PART THE FIRST. 
 
PART II. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 SCRUTINY OF DON QUIXOTE'S LIBRARY BY THE CURATE 
 AND BARBER OF THE VILLAGE. 
 
 THE curate and barber, as related in the first 
 part of this work, having seen Don Quixote 
 safely deposited in his own abode, delibe- 
 rated as to the best mode of remedying the 
 extravagance that possessed him ; and con- 
 ceiving that the most efficacious expedient 
 would be to destroy those books which had 
 such a fatal influence on his mind, repaired to 
 the .closet where they were kept, in company 
 with the housekeeper and niece ; whilst the 
 master of the library was recovering from the 
 fatigues he had undergone, by the refresh- 
 ment of sleep. 
 
 When they entered the apartment, they 
 beheld upwards of a hundred large volumes 
 well bound, and a considerable number of 
 
176 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 smaller books; no sooner had the housekeeper 
 set her eyes upon them, than she ran out of 
 the room, and returned in great speed with a 
 bason of holy water and a sprig of hyssop, 
 saying, 
 
 " Let your worship, Mr. Licentiate, sprin- 
 kle this chamber, lest any of the enchanters 
 who guard these books, punish us for seeking 
 to disappoint them of their purposes." 
 
 The curate, not without smiling at the sim- 
 plicity of the woman, desired the barber to 
 hand him some of the books that he might 
 examine on what they treated, as they might 
 not all deserve the ordeal of fire. 
 
 The voluminous legends of chivalry being 
 inspected, they were, with few exceptions, 
 consigned to the secular arm of the house- 
 keeper, who, to save the staircase, dismissed 
 them through the window to take their fate 
 in an auto-da-fe in the court yard. 
 
 Proceeding then to the smaller books, con- 
 sisting chiefly of poetry, greater discrimina- 
 tion was used; and the curate, taking up 
 one, saw that it was the Diana of lorge de 
 Montemayor ; supposing that the others were 
 
DON QUIXOTE 177 
 
 of the same description, he was disposed to 
 save them, observing, that there was no 
 occasion for these sharing the fate of the pre- 
 ceding ones, as they were not of the same 
 pernicious nature : 
 
 " O Sir," said the niece, " it is to be hoped 
 that you will have all these books burnt, as 
 well as the former; for what will avail the 
 cure of the infirmity of knight-errantry, if by 
 reading these of poetry, my uncle should 
 fancy himself a shepherd, and stroll through 
 the copses and meadows, piping and singing ; 
 or what is worse, become himself a poet, 
 which they say is the most contagious and 
 incurable of all distempers ?" 
 
 " What the damsel says/' observed the 
 curate, " is not ill judged ; and such a stum- 
 bling-block ought to be put aside. Let 
 therefore the Diana of lorge de Montemayor 
 be removed." " That which follows," re- 
 sumed the barber, " is the Diana called the 
 Siquada del Salmantino, and the other of the 
 same title is the composition of Gil Polo." 
 
 " Let him of Salmantino/' answered the 
 curate, " accompany the lorge of Monte- 
 
 N 
 
178 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 mayor to the pile in the court yard. But as 
 to Gil Polo's work, let it be kept with the 
 same care as if Apollo himself were the au- 
 thor. But pass on my friend, and make 
 haste, for it grows late." 
 
 " This," rejoined the barber, on opening 
 another, " comprises the ten books of the For- 
 tune of Love, composed by the Sardinian 
 poet Antonio de la Fonso." 
 
 w By the orders I have received/ 5 exclaimed 
 the curate, " ever since Apollo was Apollo ; 
 the Muses, Muses ; and Poets, Poets ; so 
 graceful and unparalleled a book has not been 
 composed ; and he that has not read it has 
 not read any thing of real taste." " Verily, 
 my good friend, as great a prize has^allen 
 into my hands, as if I had received a cassock 
 of Florence silk." The next that followed 
 was the songs of Lopez Maldonado. " The 
 author of this book," said the curate, " is my 
 great friend ; and the recital of the verses 
 from his own mouth, excites general admira- 
 tion ; for such is the sweetness of his voice, 
 that it operates like enchantment. Let it be 
 kept with those that are put aside. But 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 179 
 
 what book is that which is close to it ?" " It 
 is the Galatea of Miguel de Cervantes," re- 
 plied the barber ; " he that has been more 
 disciplined in adversity, than in the task of 
 authorship." This book," added the curate, 
 " has something of invention, and it is to be 
 hoped that the further continuation of it will 
 accomplish his relief from the misfortunes that 
 overshadow him. Let it be kept with the 
 others that have been selected, close in your 
 possession." " Here are three books," re- 
 sumed the barber, " close to one another; 
 the Aracaunus of Don Alonzo de Eveilla, 
 the Austriada of Juan Rufo, magistrate of 
 Corduba, and the Monserrato of Cliristabal 
 de Vernes of Valencia." " These books that 
 you have mentioned," said the curate, " are 
 the best heroic poetry that has been written 
 in the Spanish language, and may vie with 
 the best of the Italian compositions. Keep 
 them for the honour of Spain/' The curate 
 now began to be fatigued with looking over 
 the books, and without further ceremony, 
 desired that the rest might be delivered over 
 to the housekeeper. But the barber held one 
 
 N 2 
 
180 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 open in his hands, which he said was the 
 Tears of Angelica. " I should weep too," 
 cried the curate, " if such a book were to be 
 burnt ; for the author was one of the most 
 famous poets, not only of Spain, but of the 
 whole world ; and was very successful in the 
 translation of Ovid's works." 
 
 In this manner terminated the scrutiny of 
 the library ; and the housekeeper and niece, 
 that very night, burnt and destroyed all the 
 books that were in the yard, and in other 
 parts of the house ; and agreeably to the 
 advice of the curate and barber, had the door 
 of the book-closet closed up. 
 
 In a few days, Don Quixote was able to 
 get up and quit his chamber, and the first 
 step he took, was to look after his books. 
 Not finding the closet where they had been 
 kept, he walked to and fro, casting his eyes 
 about on every side without saying a word ; 
 at length however, he asked the housekeeper, 
 what had become of the book-closet. 
 
 The housekeeper, who as well as the niece, 
 was prepared for this question, said, that some 
 devil or enchanter had carried away both 
 
BON QUIXOTE. 181 
 
 the books and the closet ; having come in a 
 cloud with much noise, one night shortly 
 after his departure from home; and after 
 stopping a little while, and involving the 
 house in smoke, vanished through the roof. 
 To this the niece added, that when they went 
 to see what mischief was doing, they could 
 find neither books nor closet, but the appear- 
 ance of an old looking man, who, at his 
 departure, uttered in a hoarse tone of voice, 
 that for a secret enmity he bore to the owner 
 of the books and apartment, he had made 
 that visit, and that he was the sage Munator. 
 " Freton, you should say," rejoined Don 
 Quixote. " I do not know," answered the 
 housekeeper, " what he called himself, I only 
 know he concluded with pronouncing some 
 name." " He is a sage enchanter," cried 
 Don Quixote, " and a great enemy to me, 
 because he knows by the study of his art, 
 which looks into futurity, that I am to engage 
 in single combat with a certain knight whom 
 he favours ; and am destined to vanquish 
 him, in spite of all he can do to prevent it ; 
 for so heaven ordains." " Who doubts it," 
 
182 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 replied the niece. " But my good uncle, 
 what business have you to interfere in these 
 frays ? would it not be better to remain tran- 
 quil in your own house ?* Perceiving, how- 
 ever, that any attempt at remonstrance only 
 added fuel to the malady, she refrained from 
 farther discourse on the subject, and proposed 
 his taking some refreshment, which the house- 
 keeper immediately set before him ; and the 
 knight having, with his usual moderation, 
 partaken of it, retired calmly again to his 
 apartment, and for some time appeared do~ 
 mesticated in his habits. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE CURATE AND BARBER'S VISIT TO DON QUIXOTE, 
 WITH SANCHO PANZA's CONVERSATION WITH HIS 
 MASTER. 
 
 THE curate 'and barber forbore to visit Don 
 Quixote for a whole month, that they might 
 not, by their presence, revive in his remem- 
 brance, the mortifying result of his chimerical 
 projects. But they nevertheless received fre- 
 quent intimations from the housekeeper and 
 niece, relative to his conduct ; and learnt, 
 that in consequence of their injunctions re- 
 specting his treatment being strictly observed, 
 great amendment seemed to take place ; so 
 that they thought they might now venture a 
 visit, without danger of the revival of past 
 circumstances. They found the knight sit- 
 ting in his chamber, in a waistcoat of green 
 baize and a red night-cap, as meagre, 
 
184 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 shrunk, and withered as ever, but very cour- 
 teous in his reception of them ; and to their 
 inquiries as to the state of his health, spoke 
 of his indisposition artd himself with great 
 judgment and discretion. 
 
 The conversation turned on different sub- 
 jects, on all which Don Quixote delivered 
 himself with so much propriety, that the two 
 examiners were disposed to think he had 
 recovered the right use of his understand- 
 ing. 
 
 The curate, in order to be satisfied in this 
 respect, altered his intention, which had been 
 to avoid any thing that might lead to the 
 subject of chivalry ; and among other topics, 
 mentioned the arrival of the news, that the 
 Turks had equipped a powerful armament at 
 sea, and general alarm pervaded all the sea 
 coasts of Christendom. To this intimation, 
 the knight observed, that if his advice were 
 taken there would be little to be apprehended 
 from any efforts of the Turkish Sultan, 
 " What expedient have you to recommend ?'* 
 replied the curate. " Body of me," exclaimed 
 he, " the king has nothing to do, but issue an 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 185 
 
 order for all the knights-errant in Spain to 
 assemble ; and although they should be few 
 in number, even those few, or, if I may be so 
 bold as to say it, one amongst them might be 
 of valour sufficient to overthrow the whole 
 Turkish army. Pray, gentlemen, is it such 
 an extraordinary circumstance, for one knight 
 to cut in pieces an army of hundreds of thou- 
 sands? How many histories are filled with 
 such marvellous exploits ?" 
 
 The curate and barber immediately per- 
 ceived how little foundation there was for 
 expecting a successful issue to their attempt 
 to rectify the knight's brain, and the barber 
 with some impatience, said ; " Gentlemen, I 
 beg your attention whilst I relate a short 
 account of a singular circumstance which 
 happened at Seville. 
 
 " There was in the mad-house at that city, 
 a certain person who had been brought up 
 as a scholar, and had taken his degrees at 
 the university ; but notwithstanding all his 
 learning, he shewed such symptoms of insa- 
 nity as occasioned his being confined; This 
 person took it into his head to conceive that 
 
186 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 his judgment was as sound as that of others, 
 and accordingly wrote to the archbishop of 
 the diocese in so cogent a manner, that the 
 Archbishop's chaplain was sent to inquire 
 into the affair. The rector of the mad-house 
 assured the chaplain, that although the man 
 at times appeared reasonable, he was at the 
 bottom as much out of his wits as ever; 
 nevertheless, he might satisfy himself by the 
 examination of the party, 
 
 " The chaplain going to his apartment, 
 entered into a discourse with him, in which 
 the man represented, that it was a scheme of 
 his relations to keep him in confinement in 
 order to enjoy his estate ; and that the rector 
 on account of the presents he received, was in 
 their interest. 
 
 " In short he talked so effectually, that the 
 chaplain was disposed to suspect some unfair- 
 ness in the business, and desired that he 
 might have his own clothes again and be 
 discharged, producing the Archbishop's war- 
 rant for that purpose. 
 
 " When on the point of departure, and on 
 the eve of obtaining his liberty, the man, so 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 187 
 
 far freed, expressed a desire to take leave of 
 his companions in affliction ; and approach- 
 ing one who was confined in a cell, said to 
 him ; ' Brother, have you any commands for 
 me ? I am going home, being, by the bless- 
 ing of God, restored to my right understand- 
 ing.' 
 
 " This being overheard by another lunatic, 
 he started up, and roared out, c Who is he 
 that's going away so sober and sound?' c 'Tis 
 I,' answered the scholar, ' who am no longer 
 under the necessity of staying in this place.' 
 c You recovered and at liberty, and I in 
 chains!' exclaimed the madman; ( know that 
 I, who am Jupiter, will take such vengeance 
 on the city if you are discharged, that not one 
 drop of rain shall fall for years to come.' 
 The madman continuing to vociferate, the 
 scholar turned round to the company and 
 said; 
 
 " c Gentlemen, be not uneasy at these 
 threats, if he who is Jupiter will withhold rain 
 from the earth, I who am Neptune, and com- 
 mand the ocean, will restore moisture when 
 it is wanted.' 
 
188 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 " At this speech, the chaplain was out of 
 countenance, the rector laughed, and in con- 
 clusion the ill-fated scholar was again stripped 
 of his clothes, and remanded to his cell." 
 During the progress of the story, Don Quix- 
 ote looked not a little grave, and toward the 
 end shewed evident signs of perturbation ; 
 but all comment was interrupted by a noise 
 at the gate, which arose from some alterca- 
 tion between the housekeeper and niece, and 
 Sancho Panza, who was endeavouring to 
 force his way into the house. 
 
 In the struggle the following curious dia- 
 logue ensued. " What does the swaggbellied 
 lurcher want in this house ?" said the house- 
 keeper, " get you gone brother, it was thou, 
 and none but thou, who turned my poor 
 master's brain, enticing him from home to 
 stroll about the highways." 
 
 To this address, Sancho replied, " House" 
 keeper of Satan, 'tis my brain has been 
 turned ; 'twas thy master who wheedled me 
 from my home, with the promise of an is- 
 land." 
 
 " The deuce take thee and thy islands, 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 189 
 
 thou cormorant,'' said the niece, " is it any 
 thing to eat thou glutton ?" 
 
 " Let it be what it will," cried the house- 
 keeper, " he shall not set his foot here. Go 
 and look after thy own house, and fatten thy 
 hogs, thou bag of mischief and bundle of 
 malice." Don Quixote hearing what Sancho 
 had said, and the women's tongues going on 
 at a high rate, desired that he might be ad- 
 mitted without further parley, and the curate 
 and barber, in despair of any permanent 
 effect from their good endeavours, took their 
 leave and departed to their respective homes. 
 The door being shut, Don Quixote said to 
 Sancho, " It gives me great pain to hear that 
 thou sayest I enticed thee from thy cottage, 
 when thou knowest that I, at the same time, 
 quitted my own house. Together we set out 
 and travelled, sharing the same fortune and 
 fate. 
 
 " But a truce with remonstrance. Let me 
 now know, Sancho, how I am spoken of in 
 this place. What say the vulgar, and what 
 character do I bear among the gentry ? I 
 shall not be offended at hearing the truth.'* 
 
190 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 " In the first place,' 5 replied Sancho, " the 
 common people think you a stark-staring 
 madman ; and the better sort say, that, scorn- 
 ing the rank of a private gentleman, you 
 have put Don before your name, and dubbed 
 yourself a knight, with a few acres of land 
 and a patched doublet." " As to my dou- 
 blet," said the knight, " it is worn out by my 
 armour." " If you wish to hear further," 
 continued Sancho, " there is the bachelor 
 Sampson Carrasco in the village, who is in- 
 formed of every thing/' 
 
 " By and by," rejoined Don Quixote, " I 
 shall hear what he has to say. In the mean 
 time, friend Sancho, let me know if you have 
 had any conversation with your wife, con- 
 cerning the event of our resuming our adven- 
 tures/' " Under certain conditions," said 
 Sancho, " my wife will not object to my 
 going, and that is, that I shall receive a 
 monthly salary, over and above the promise 
 of the island. " Look you, Sancho," replied 
 Don Quixote, " I would appoint you a salary, 
 if I could find in any history that I have had 
 the least glimpse of any such usage ; but if 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 191 
 
 you think that I would infringe or deviate 
 from the least rule of chivalry, you are mis- 
 taken/' 
 
 When Sancho heard this fixed resolution 
 of his master, his heart flagged in a moment, 
 and blubbering out a reply, he said, " I have 
 perceived, by many good works and more 
 good words, that your Worship is inclined to 
 serve me ; and if I have required wages, it has 
 been at my wife's instance. But, notwith- 
 standing her importunity, I here promise to 
 serve you as faithfully as ever, and trust to 
 your bounty for my reward." 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 DON QUIXOTE'S INTERVIEW WITH THE BACHELOR 
 SAMPSON CARRASCO, AND FINAL DETERMINATION ON 
 A FURTHER SALLY IN QUEST OF ADVENTURES. 
 
 DURING the conversation between Don Quix- 
 ote and Sancho, the housekeeper had hurried 
 away to the bachelor Sampson Carrasco's 
 house, hoping, as a friend to her master, he 
 would endeavour to dissuade him from ano- 
 ther sally. She found him taking a walk in 
 his fore-court, and falling down on her knees 
 before him, could not speak for some time so 
 much was she agitated. 
 
 Carrasco, seeing her under such consterna- 
 tion, asked what had befallen her. " No- 
 thing, Mr. Bachelor/' said she, with frequent 
 sobs and interruption of voice, " nothing, but 
 that my master is breaking out again, and is 
 going to make another sally in quest of adven- 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 193 
 
 tures. The last time he returned in a wag- 
 gon, cooped up in a cage like any wild 
 creature, and in such woful plight, that his 
 eyes were sunk to the lowest part of his 
 brain." 
 
 The bachelor, with a figure not very well 
 according with his name of Sampson, had a 
 round visage, flat nose, and capacious mouth ; 
 all symptoms of a mischievous arid waggish 
 disposition ; and in truth, he was not sorry at 
 the opportunity of having his share of amuse- 
 ment from his neighbour's folly. Recom- 
 mending, therefore, his suppliant to dismiss 
 her anxiety, he undertook to look into the 
 matter, and returned with her to Don Quix- 
 ote's abode. 
 
 As soon as he approached the knight, he 
 fell on his knees, saying, " Permit me to kiss 
 your puissant hand, Signior Don Quixote de 
 la Mancha, for, by the habit of St. Peter, 
 your Worship is one of the most famous 
 knights-errant that ever was or ever will be, 
 in- the circumference of the globe. Blessed 
 be the author who has commenced the his- 
 tory of your prowess, and honoured be the 
 
 O 
 
194 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 translators of it, for there is scarcely a nation 
 or language which does not already possess 
 it." " Pray, Mr. Bachelor," said the knight, 
 " which of my exploits is most esteemed in 
 the history ?" " As to that," replied Car- 
 rasco, " there are as many opinions as tastes ; 
 but the deliverance of the galley-slaves, and 
 the engagement with the Biscayan, seem 
 most noticed. The whole, however, is much 
 admired, and has the peculiar merit of requir- 
 ing no commentary." As the bachelor pro- 
 nounced these words, their ears were saluted 
 by the neighing of Rosinante, which Don 
 Quixote considered as a most happy omen ; 
 and declaring his intention of sallying forth 
 in a few days, asked the bachelor's advice as 
 to the route he should take. 
 
 Sampson Carrasco recommended him to 
 direct his course towards the kingdom of 
 Arragon, and go to Saragossa, where a 
 solemn tournament was to be held, which 
 would give him the opportunity of entering 
 the lists with the Arragonian knights ; adding, 
 that if any thing should be wanting to the 
 expedition, here he was ready to make it good 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 with his person and fortune ; 'and, if need be, 
 to serve him in the capacity of squire. In- 
 numerable were the curses that the house- 
 keeper and niece vented against the bachelor, 
 when they found the turn things were taking ; 
 and, on hisjeaving the house, they united 
 their efforts to counteract the effects of his 
 pernicious counsels. 
 
 /The housekeeper, among other arguments, 
 said ; " as she hoped to be saved, if he would 
 not settle at home, but was resolved to stray 
 about the mountains and valleys like a trou- 
 bled ghost, she would complain in person, 
 and raise her voice to God and the King, to 
 apply some remedy to his disorder." 
 
 " How, good woman," answered Don 
 Quixote, " God will accept of thy complaints, 
 I know not ; or how his Majesty will receive 
 thy petition. But I must say, if I were a 
 sovereign, I should not be disposed to attend 
 to every insignificant memorial." " Pray 
 Sir," said the housekeeper, " if there are 
 knights at court, as is reported, would it not 
 be better for you to serve his Majesty in that 
 capacity in his palace?" " You must be 
 
 o 2 
 
196 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 informed," replied Don Quixote, " that all 
 knights cannot be courtiers, nor need all 
 courtiers be knights-errant ; and although we 
 are all entitled knights, yet there is a great 
 difference between us. Your courtiers, with- 
 out going from their thresholds, travel over 
 the world in maps, and experience nothing of 
 the hardships of knights-errant, who are liable 
 to be exposed to the inclemencies of the wea- 
 ther both night and day." 
 
 " Ah, dear Sir," interrupted the niece, 
 " consider that all these stories of knight- 
 errantry are nothing but lying inventions. 
 Good God ! that with all your learning, you 
 should yet remain in such woeful blindness as 
 to endeavour to persuade the world and your- 
 self, that you are a vigorous righter of wrongs, 
 when you are enfeebled with the burden of 
 years ; and, above all things, give yourself out 
 for a knight, when you are destitute of the 
 requisite means of becoming one; for al- 
 though rich gentlemen may be knighted, poor 
 ones, such as yourself, rarely attain that 
 rank/' " However ill I must take the free- 
 dom of some of your observations, cousin of 
 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 197 
 
 mine," said Don Quixote, " there is one part 
 of your discourse that I shall enlarge upon for 
 your better information. Be attentive there- 
 fore to what I am going to say. All the 
 families in the world may be reduced to these 
 four divisions. The first, those who from a 
 low origin have mounted to greatness and 
 power, as exemplified in the house of Ottoman, 
 which from an humble shepherd, attained 
 that pinnacle of grandeur on which it now 
 stands. 
 
 " The second sort is exhibited in the per- 
 sons of many princes and families, who are 
 illustrious by inheritance, and support their 
 rank without addition or diminution. 
 
 " The third, is of those, who, from illus- 
 trious beginnings, have dwindled into an in- 
 considerable point, like the apex of a pyramid, 
 which, compared with its base, is next to 
 nothing. Of these, there are numerous ex- 
 amples in the Pharaohs and Ptolemies of 
 Mgypt ; the Caesars of Rome ; and the tribe 
 of monarchs, princes, and great men, whose 
 families have almost disappeared, with the 
 history of their time and age. 
 
198 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 " The fourth, and that the most numerous, 
 consists of the families of plebeians and ordi- 
 nary people, who, having neither foundation 
 nor casual elevation, have merely increased 
 the number of the living, without meriting 
 either fame or panegyric. 
 
 " It may, therefore, be inferred, that there 
 is a great confusion of pedigrees, and that 
 those only are to be deemed truly illustrious, 
 who use Fortune's gifts with taste, judgment, 
 and generosity ; and the poor knight, who 
 signalizes himself by deeds of valour and in 
 the practice of virtue, may justly claim similar 
 respect with him who can boast of having 
 the most illustrious ancestors. 
 
 " The paths that lead to riches and honour 
 are learning, and arms ; now I have chosen 
 the latter, and will pursue that road in spite 
 of the whole universe, for thus says the poet ; 
 
 " By these rough paths of toil and pain, 
 Th' immortal seats of bliss we gain ; 
 Denied to those who heedless stray, 
 In tempting pleasure's flowery way." 
 
 All exhortation being fruitless, the niece 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 and housekeeper left the room ; anticipating 
 on the part of their master, a further display 
 of extravagancies, that seemed to have ope- 
 rated with increased energy under the aus- 
 pices of the bachelor Sampson Carrasco. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 DON QUIXOTE PROCEEDS ON HIS ADVENTURES HIS 
 
 MEETING WITH DULCINEA DEL TOBOSO AND 
 
 RENCONTRE WITH THE WAGGON OF DEATH. 
 
 THE bachelor Sampson Carrasco, who had a 
 project in view that he had communicated to 
 the curate and barber, was so complaisant as 
 to accompany Don Quixote some furlongs on 
 his road, and then took his leave in the most 
 courteous manner. 
 
 Whilst Don Quixote and Sancho were pro- 
 ceeding towards Toboso (the knight having 
 resolved in the commencement of his enter- 
 prise to receive his mistress's benediction) the 
 bachelor proceeded homewards in order to 
 put his plan in execution. 
 
 When they approached the city of Toboso, 
 Sancho's spirits were depressed at the idea of 
 his master's discovering that his former ac- 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 201 
 
 count of his interview with Dulcinea was all 
 a fabrication ; he therefore sought to gain 
 time, in order to contrive some story to amuse 
 him ; and insinuated, that as the evening was 
 coming on, it would be indelicate to be in- 
 quiring about his mistress at so unreasonable 
 a time ; and recommended that they should 
 take shelter in a neighbouring thicket, till 
 the next day. 
 
 The knight assented to this ; and passed 
 the hours in anxious anticipation of being 
 blessed with a sight of his mistress; while 
 Sancho was occupied in schemes to extricate 
 himself, till Morpheus overcame the cares of 
 one and the other, and drowned the senses of 
 both in the balm of sleep. At dawn of day, 
 Don Quixote awoke Sancho, giving him di- 
 rections in what manner to accost his mistress 
 as well as desiring him to observe how the 
 address was received. 
 
 Sancho, whipping up Dapple, proceeded 
 with the greatest perplexity on his errand, 
 and when out of the sight of his master, 
 alighted, and sitting down at the foot of a 
 
202 DON QUIXOTE, 
 
 tree, began to catechise himself on the busi- 
 ness before him, in the following soliloquy. 
 
 " This master of mine, as I have observed 
 in a thousand instances, is crazy enough to 
 allow himself to be shackled by a straw; 
 therefore it will be no difficult matter to per- 
 suade him that the first country girl we meet 
 is his mistress Dulcinea ; and if he boggles at 
 swallowing the cheat, I will swear that one 
 of those enchanters who bear him a grudge, 
 hath metamorphosed her shape and coun- 
 tenance in order to vex and disquiet him." 
 Sancho having hit upon this expedient, waited 
 with patience till he descried three country 
 girls riding towards him on the road, mounted 
 on she asses ; immediately turning back, he 
 apprized his master of the approach of his 
 Dulcinea, and as the damsels came up, Sancho 
 seizing the halter of one of their beasts, fell 
 upon his knees before the rider, and addressed 
 her in the following terms. 
 
 " Queen and princess, will your Highness 
 be pleased to receive into grace and favour 
 your captive knight, who now approaches 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 203 
 
 you, and who is confounded at the presence 
 of your magnificence. I am Sancho Panza 
 his squire, and he the knight Don Quixote de 
 la Mancha of the rueful countenance." By 
 this time Don Quixote, having placed himself 
 by the side of Sancho, with staring eyes and 
 troubled vision gazed upon the object which 
 Sancho called Queen and Princess ; and per- 
 ceiving nothing but an ordinary country girl, 
 remained in the utmost confusion ; whilst the 
 other damsels were equally astonished at see- 
 ing two such strange figures kneeling before 
 their companion, who breaking silence pro- 
 nounced in an ungracious tone of voice these 
 words, 
 
 " Get out of the way and let us pass, for 
 we are in a hurry ; truly you must think me 
 a fine madam, to listen to your gibberish. We 
 should be more obliged to you to let us go 
 about our own affairs." 
 
 Sancho, accordingly, loosed the halter, well 
 pleased at the success of his stratagem. But 
 the ass, impatient at having been kept so long 
 at bay, began to flounce and kick about, till 
 it brought its rider to the ground. Never- 
 
204 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 theless the damsel frustrated Don Quixote's 
 attempt to replace her in the saddle, by 
 springing at once over the crupper into the 
 seat, to the infinite delight of Sancho, who 
 exclaimed aloud, 
 
 " By St. Roque, my lady mistress is as 
 nimble as a hawk, and her companions not a 
 whit behind her in celerity :' this was true 
 enough, for no sooner was Dulcinea re- 
 mounted than they all scoured off like the 
 wind. Don Quixote followed them with his 
 eyes, till they vanished from his sight ; then 
 turning to his squire, he said, " Thou seest, 
 Sancho, how I am persecuted by enchanters, 
 and how far their malice and grudge extends, 
 in depriving me of the pleasure of beholding 
 the angel I adore in her own beauteous 
 form." 
 
 The rogue Sancho, finding the bait so well 
 taken, had some difficulty in concealing his 
 satisfaction. But his own triumph and his 
 master's melancholy, w r ere interrupted by a 
 portentous spectacle. A waggon crossed the 
 road full of the most curious shapes, and con- 
 ducted by the apparition of a demon. The 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 205 
 
 vehicle being open, the first object that pre- 
 sented itself to the eyes of Don Quixote, was 
 Death, in his skeleton shape ; and behind 
 him, were seen various other personages of 
 grotesque aspects and dress. This group, 
 appearing on a sudden, a little discomposed 
 our hero's nerves, and filled the heart of 
 Sancho with dismay. Don Quixote however, 
 collecting himself, pronounced aloud ; " Dri- 
 ver, Devil, or whatever being thou art, tell 
 me, whither thou art going, and whom thou 
 conveyest in that car, which more resembles 
 old Charon's boat than any other convey- 
 
 ance/' 
 
 The demon very courteously stopping his 
 waggon, replied, " Signior, we are players 
 going to represent at a neighbouring village a 
 piece called The Parliament of Death, and in 
 order to save time, travel in our playing 
 dresses." During this explanation, one of the 
 company who was on foot and performed the 
 part of a merry-andrew, came up; and skip- 
 ping about with bells and a bladder hanging 
 to a pole, so frightened Rozinante, that he 
 
206 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 set off at full speed, and very shortly brought 
 his rider to the ground. 
 
 Whilst Sancho was engaged in assisting 
 his master, he overlooked the situation of 
 Dapple^ who now filled up the rear of the 
 cavalcade with the merry-andrew on his back. 
 Don Quixote was no sooner remounted, than 
 in a rage, he rode up to the waggon, 
 threatening immediate vengeance on the 
 whole party. 
 
 They, however, quitting their vehicle, be- 
 took themselves/ to the defence of pebble shot, 
 the effects of which the knight had expe- 
 rienced in various encounters, to the no small 
 damage of his person ; so that, as Saixcho 
 had obtained the liberty of Dapple, he was 
 disposed by his arguments, to compromise 
 the affair in his own mind, under the plea of its 
 not being a case in which he could, as a knight- 
 errant, engage. Therefore, withdrawing from 
 the array against him, he consoled himself 
 with moralizing on the adventure. 
 
 " Life," said he to Sancho, " and its pro- 
 gress, is but what these players represent. 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 207 
 
 Each takes his character, and when that with 
 his dress is laid aside, all are on a level. Thus, 
 in the real comedy and commerce of the 
 world, various characters and personages come 
 forward, and when life approaches its end, 
 Death strips them of the robes that "distin- 
 guished their stations, and they are laid all 
 prostrate in the grave." 
 
 " True," answered Sancho, " and some- 
 thing similar I have heard observed respect- 
 ing the game of Chess, in which every piece 
 sustains a particular station, and character ; 
 and when the game is over all are indiscri- 
 minately jumbled together in a bag, like mor- 
 tals in the grave." 
 
 " Verily, Sancho," said the knight, " you 
 seem to have made a wonderful proficiency in 
 your ideas, since your fellowship with arms ; 
 upon the same principle, I presume, as 
 the earthen clod when in contact with finer 
 particles, is as free to assume the quality of 
 the porcelain vase, as to form the ordinary 
 pitcher/' 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 RENCONTRE WITH A STRANGE KNIGHT. 
 
 THE shades of evening coming on, and inter- 
 rupting the progress of the journey of Don 
 Quixote and his Squire, as well as their con- 
 versation ; Sancho Panza betook himself to 
 the foot of a cork-tree, for his pillow, whilst 
 his maste?r reclined against an oak to take his 
 slumber. But betwixt dim and dark, his 
 repose was disturbed by the approach of two 
 men on horseback, one of whom alighting, 
 said to the other, " My friend, let us rest 
 here, for the place seems to abound with pas- 
 ture for our horses, and with silence and 
 solitude, adapted to assuage our fatigue, both 
 of body and of mind." 
 
 Don Quixote with some difficulty awoke 
 Sancho, saying, " Here brother is an adven- 
 ture ; that man yonder threw himself on the 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 209 
 
 ground, shewing signs of not being over easy 
 in his mind, and I heard his armour rattle as 
 he fell." Before Sancho could reply, the fol- 
 lowing words were uttered by the stranger : 
 
 " Is it possible that the most beautiful Ca- 
 sildea de Vandalia, has devoted her captive 
 knight to exhaust himself in continual pere- 
 grinations? Is it not enough, that I have 
 established her beauty by the extorted con- 
 fession of all the knights of Spain, not even 
 excepting that of La Mancha ?" 
 
 The latter part of this exclamation sur- 
 prised Don Quixote. He approached the spot 
 from whence the voice issued, and was saluted 
 in a courteous manner by a cavalier, who, 
 rising from the ground, accosted him thus, 
 
 " Sir Knight, for I conclude that you are 
 one professing knight-errantry from meeting 
 you in this place." To this, Don Quixote 
 replied, " I am a knight of the order you 
 mention, and from the soliloquy you just now 
 uttered, gather, that grief has taken possession 
 of your soul, as it has long since been an 
 inhabitant of mine ; so that most likely we 
 are both victims of a similar wayward fate." 
 
 P 
 
210 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 The two knights then sat down together oh 
 the grass, while their attendant squires re- 
 moved to a distance ; as much for the sake of 
 communicating the affairs of their respective 
 masters, as for the purpose of enjoying, in 
 good fellowship, the reciprocal contents of 
 their wallets. In the conversation that took 
 place between the two knights, the stranger, 
 after having recounted his hardships, con- 
 cluded by saying, that his mistress's last com- 
 mand was, to traverse all the provinces in 
 Spain, and compel every knight-errant in the 
 kingdom to acknowledge that she exceeded 
 all the women on earth in beauty. To these 
 commands, the laws of hospitality, friendship, 
 and every claim, must submit ; and therefore, 
 before they parted, that acknowledgment must 
 be challenged. 
 
 Don Quixote, not agreeing to this peremp- 
 tory demand, the following day was fixed * 
 for converting one or the other by the sword ; 
 and the conditions of the combat were, that 
 the vanquished should obey the victor in all 
 points, not derogatory to the laws of chivalry. 
 The two squires, during this conference, had 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 211 
 
 in their libations been discussing the merits of 
 their respective masters, and the circumstances 
 of their own situations ; and the strange 
 squire stood out on the superior advantages 
 of ecclesiastical patronage, and the safe snug 
 gifts it had to bestow, whereas titles and ho- 
 nours were attended with a load of care and 
 trouble. 
 
 Thus occupied, they were disturbed in their 
 pleasant reveries, by their masters giving 
 them orders to prepare their arms and steeds 
 for combat at the dawn of day. As soon 
 as the warbling of birds with their various 
 sprightly notes announced the approach of 
 morn, the two combatants were fully exposed 
 to each other's view ; and Don Quixote be- 
 held in his antagonist, a muscular man, with 
 his visor closed, and gorgeously apparelled. 
 
 But when Sancho looked at his brother 
 squire in full day light, he was struck with 
 affright at his countenance, which was hor- 
 ribly disfigured by an enormous nose : as 
 soon, therefore, as his master moved to take 
 his proper distance, Sancho, trembling in 
 every limb, climbed up a tree to avoid any 
 
 p2 
 
212 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 further communication with his frightful bro- 
 ther squire, whom he firmly believed to be 
 some hobgoblin. 
 
 Whilst Don Quixote was inquiring into the 
 cause of Sancho's flight up the tree, the 
 strange knight was advancing to the encoun- 
 ter at full speed ; but seeing that Don Quixote 
 was unprepared, he stopped short half way in 
 his career. By this time, however, our knight 
 had put out at full speed ; and regardless of 
 his opponent's being embarrassed by his sud- 
 den halt, unhorsed him without much diffi- 
 culty ; so that the strange knight fell mo- 
 tionless on the ground, from the shock and 
 weight of his armour. Don Quixote alight- 
 ing, took off his adversary's visor, and to his 
 great astonishment, beheld the visage of the - 
 bachelor Sampson Carrasco. 
 
 He called Sancho to him, who, seeing ihe 
 squire's extraordinary appearance, and the 
 metamorphose of the knight, blessed and 
 crossed " himself a thousand times, and ear- 
 nestly entreated that this work of enchant- 
 ment might be finished by the combatant's 
 death. 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 213 
 
 At this critical moment, the squire of the 
 strange knight advancing with his prodigious 
 nose in his hand, presented to the eyes of 
 Sancho, the countenance of his intimate fel- 
 low villager Thomas Cecial, who assured 
 them both of his own identity, and that the 
 dismounted knight was no other than the 
 bachelor Sampson Carrasco. 
 
 Don Quixote and Sancho Panza were in 
 perfect amazement at what had passed ; but 
 the discomfited knight shewing signs of re- 
 covery, Don Quixote placed the point of his 
 sword to his throat, declaring, that unless he 
 renounced Casildea de Vandalia, and acknow- 
 ledged the pre-eminence of Dulcinea del 
 Toboso in beauty, and would repair to her 
 presence and make this arowal, his life was 
 in the utmost danger. 
 
 The vanquished knight, being completely 
 at his opponent's mercy, promised obedience 
 in every particular ; and with the assistance 
 of his squire, retired to repair his shattered 
 carcase, and plot the means of revenge for 
 the miscarriage of his enterprise. 
 
 Don Quixote now considered himself as the 
 
214 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 most renowned and invincible of knights ; 
 and as he rode along indulging in this vanity, 
 Sancho interrupted his reveries by saying, 
 
 " You will scarcely believe what a simple- 
 ton I make myself, but I cannot help thinking 
 of that horrid and unmeasurable nose of our 
 neighbour Tom Cecial." " And dost thou 
 believe," replied the knight, " that the strange 
 cavalier was the bachelor Sampson Carrasco, 
 and his squire thy old companion Thomas 
 Cecial." 
 
 " As to that affair," replied Sancho, " I 
 am positive that nobody but himself could 
 give such an account of my family ; then as 
 to his face and voice, they were precisely and 
 individually those of my neighbour Cecial." 
 
 " Come, Sancho," said Don Quixote, " let 
 us reason coolly on this head. What proba- 
 bility was there that the bachelor Sampson 
 Carrasco should come, as a knight-errant, to - 
 offer me combat ? Am I his enemy or rival ? ' 
 Depend upon it, it is some contrivance of 
 those enchanters who persecute me, and 
 who, finding by their art that I should be 
 victorious, in order to save their own knight, 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 215 
 
 changed his form into the appearance of the 
 bachelor ; and by a similar substitution, Tho- 
 mas Cecial for the squire. Have we not 
 already had woeful experience of their power 
 in the transformation of the beautiful Dul- 
 cinea del Toboso into a country girl ?" 
 
 " It is God alone who knows the truth of 
 all things," answered Sancho ; well aware 
 that the transformation of Dulcinea was the 
 effect of his own enchantment, and therefore 
 not quite convinced by his master's argu- 
 ments, about other transformations. But he 
 said as little as he could upon the subject, that 
 he might not betray himself. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 RENCONTRE WITH DON DIEGO DE MIRANDA, A GENTLE- 
 MAN OF LA MANCHA, WITH THE ADVENTURE OF 
 
 THE LIONS, AND THE KNIGHT'S RECEPTION AT DON 
 DIEGO'S HOUSE. 
 
 DON QUIXOTE . and his squire Sancho, con- 
 tinuing their route on the main road, fell in 
 with a gentleman well mounted, and dressed 
 in a green riding coat faced with velvet, with 
 a cap and accoutrements of the same, who 
 saluted them with great politeness as he passed 
 along. 
 
 Don Quixote spoke to him and said, cc Sig- 
 nior, if you are not pressed for time, I should 
 be exceedingly glad to join company with 
 you." 
 
 On being thus accosted, the gentleman 
 stopped, and looked with amazement at the 
 air and appearance of Don Quixote ; the 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 217 
 
 knight at the same time surveying the stranger 
 with no less attention, who seemed turned of 
 fifty and apparently of some distinction. 
 
 Judging from the traveller's look of sur- 
 prise, that he wished for some information, 
 Don Quixote addressed him as follows^* " Sig- 
 nior, I am not in the least surprised at your 
 contemplating my appearance with an air of 
 curiosity. Know, then, that I am of that 
 fraternity of adventurers called knights-errant. 
 I have left my home, mortgaged my all, and 
 cast myself on fortune, with design of awaken- 
 ing the long lost spirit of chivalry." 
 
 The traveller was some time before he 
 could sufficiently collect himself to answer, 
 that the very novelty of the knight's under- 
 taking, must apologise for his scepticism in 
 believing, that so romantic a fancy in the 
 present day possessed the mind of any one : 
 adding, that the knight's frankness called for 
 some explanation with respect to himself. 
 That he was blessed with a sufficient share of 
 the goods of fortune, and named^iego de 
 
 Miranda ; passing his time in moderate re- 
 ^"- > ' "^ r _ 
 
 creations, and living comfortably with his 
 
218 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 family and friends. A reconciler, as far as 
 opportunity afforded, of differences amongst 
 neighbours, without ostentation in the act ; a 
 regular attendant at mass, and careful that 
 the poor should partake of his substance. 
 
 Sancho, in admiration of so perfect a cha- 
 racter, threw himself off Dapple, and em- 
 bracing the gentleman's knees, began to kiss 
 his feet, declaring that it was the first time he 
 had ever seen a saint on horseback. " I have 
 no claim to that title, my friend," answered 
 the gentleman, " but the simplicity of your 
 behaviour proves the honesty of your charac- 
 ter." Upon this Sancho remounted Dapple, 
 and Don Quixote smiling at his squire's sim- 
 plicity, asked the stranger what family he 
 had. 
 
 He replied, " an only son, who is entirely a 
 votary to the Muses ; but it was more my 
 wish to have had him apply himself to the 
 study of divinity. The classics, however, 
 have wholly engrossed his time and thoughts ; 
 and he is now occupied with a glossary on a 
 prize subject, notwithstanding he esteems but 
 lightly the poetry of his own country." 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 Don Quixote observed, " if the genius 
 prompts to poetry, it generally does honour to 
 the person who has a vein for it. As to your 
 son not esteeming the poetry of his own lan- 
 guage, I do not agree with him. Homer did 
 not write in Latin, because he was a Greek; 
 or Virgil in Greek, because he was a Roman. 
 But perhaps your son does not dislike Spanish 
 poetry, but Spanish poets, as being destitute 
 of that general knowledge which would con- 
 tribute to their own natural genius. Never- 
 theless, the maxim that a poet is born with his 
 talent, is certainly true; although, by the 
 cultivation of this power, he must reach a 
 standard superior to what rests alone on his 
 natural gift. 
 
 " My advice therefore is, that your son be 
 permitted to follow the bent of his inclination, 
 and reap the harvest of his labour in those 
 fields of intellectual struggle, where the suc- 
 cessful candidate receives a crown from the 
 leaves of that tree, which is proof against the 
 glancing thunderbolt." 
 
 The gentleman's surprise was not a little 
 increased by Don Quixote's delivering himself 
 
220 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 in this uncommon style ; and whilst pausing 
 for an answer, a covered carriage approached 
 with the royal colours flying upon it. This 
 was beheld by the knight, who, taking it as 
 a signal for some new adventure, called to 
 SancHo for his helmet, and by the time he 
 had placed himself in a posture to receive an 
 enemy, the carriage with the streamers ar- 
 rived. The driver being accosted and ques- 
 tioned by Don Quixote as to its contents and 
 destination, made answer, that two large lions 
 were confined in it, and that they were going 
 to the king's menagerie, under charge of the 
 keeper, who was sitting at the door of the 
 caravan. 
 
 The knight immediately addressed himself 
 to the keeper, desiring him to open the door 
 that he might offer combat to the lions. Don 
 Diego de Miranda with astonishment asked 
 Sancho, if his master was so much out of his 
 wits as to engage with these wild beasts ; and 
 not satisfied with his reply, seriously addressed 
 Don Quixote, admonishing him on the des- 
 perateness of the adventure, and telling him 
 that the lions had given him no provocation. 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 221 
 
 The knight, deaf to all expostulations, insisted 
 upon the keeper's opening the door and letting 
 the lions out. And the man, finding Don 
 Quixote so obstinate, desired that the driver 
 might be allowed to convey the mules to a 
 distance ; saying, that- although they would 
 not hurt him, they would tear any other 
 living thing near them to pieces. Whilst the 
 mules were unloosing, Don Diego and Sancho 
 went to a height at a distance, where they 
 might in safety behold all that should take 
 place, and were there joined by the driver 
 with the mules. 
 
 . In the mean time Don Quixote having 
 leaped from his horse, drew his sword, and 
 placing himself before the caravan, recom- 
 mended himself with great devotion to his 
 mistress Dulcinea del Toboso. 
 
 The keeper having fruitlessly intreated Don 
 Quixote to desist from his intention, with 
 much reluctance opened the door of the first 
 cage. 
 
 The lion thrust his head out, with his eyes 
 flaming like fire-brands ; then turning himself 
 round and passing his huge tongue over his 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 face, very composedly stretched himself out 
 at full length without any inclination to quit 
 his cage. 
 
 The knight, not quite satisfied with the 
 lion's inertness, would fain have urged the 
 keeper to provoke him, and with difficulty 
 accorded to his entreaty to have the door 
 fastened again, notwithstanding the keeper's 
 assertion that it was a miracle the lion had 
 not come out and torn him to pieces. 
 
 The keeper then made a signal for the 
 driver to return with his mules, who, accom- 
 panied by Don Diego and Sancho, heard on 
 the spot the keeper's relation of what had 
 passed ; and the latter, with the driver having 
 received some recompence for their detention, 
 pursued their road. Don Quixote, who had 
 now assumed the title of knight of the lions, 
 at Don Diego's earnest request then followed 
 him to his habitation with Sancho in his 
 retinue. On their arrival, Don Diego's lady, 
 by name Christeria, with her son Don Lo- 
 renzo, appeared at the portal to welcome 
 Don Diego's return and receive their guest ; 
 who, being introduced into a room, was left 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 223 
 
 with Sancho to have his armour taken off, 
 and prepare for the repast. 
 
 In the mean time, Don Lorenzo took that 
 opportunity of asking some particulars with 
 respect to their new acquaintance. His 
 father frankly owned he was at a loss what 
 answer to make ; for never did a man act 
 more ridiculously, or express himself with 
 greater propriety. " I would therefore, my 
 son, have you sound the depth of his under- 
 standing and form your own judgment." 
 
 Don Lorenzo now repaired to their guest 
 Don Quixote, who after some general con- 
 versation, addressed him thus. " Your father 
 Don Diego has apprized me of your passion 
 for poetry ; I should therefore be flattered by 
 being informed of your present study. If for 
 a prize likely to be warmly contested, I would 
 recommend your waving any attempt for the 
 first reward, which is generally assigned by 
 favour ; but would have you endeavour to 
 obtain the second, as the most likely to be 
 allotted to real merit." 
 
 Don Lorenzo thought within himself, that 
 what was so just savoured not of any de- 
 
224 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 rangement of ideas. He then repeated the 
 following stanza as the text for the prize 
 subject ; 
 
 Could I the moments past review, 
 Tho' Fate should other joys deny, 
 Or bring the future scenes to view, 
 In Time's dark womb that rip'ning lie. 
 
 The glossary being as follows : 
 
 I. 
 
 As all things perish and decay, 
 So did that happiness I mourn , 
 On silent pinions fleet away, 
 Oh ! never, never to return. 
 At Fortune's feet forlorn I lie, 
 Would she again propitious shew 
 Her favour, who more bless'd than I, 
 Could I the moments past renew. 
 
 II. 
 
 No pleasure, palm, or wreath, I claim, 
 No wealth or triumph seek to find, 
 For all my wish, and all my aim, 
 Is to retrieve my peace of mind. 
 Ah ! Fortune, thy returning smile, 
 Would change to bliss my destiny, 
 And every gloomy thought beguile, 
 Tho' Fate should other joys deny. 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 225 
 
 III. 
 
 Fond wish, impossible and vain, 
 No power in this terrestrial ball, 
 Can Time's unwearied foot detain, 
 Or his accomplish'd flight recall. 
 He forward flies, nor looks behind, 
 And those miscarriage will pursue, 
 Who hope the fugitive to bind, 
 Or bring the future scenes to view. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Perplex* d with hopes and fears I live, 
 Tho' death at once would ease my pain, 
 What folly then for me to grieve, 
 Who can that easy cure obtain ; 
 No, yet a wiser course I'll steer, 
 Resolv'd my fortune still to try, 
 Until those happier days appear, 
 In Time's dark womb that rip'ning lie. 
 
 " Blessed be God," exclaimed Don Quix- 
 ote, when he had heard the verses of Don 
 Lorenzo, " that amongst the number of in- 
 ferior poets that now exist, I have found one 
 of consummate skill, as is plainly evinced by 
 the art and execution of these stanzas." 
 
 Is it not diverting enough to observe that 
 Don Lorenzo was pleased with the applause 
 
 Q 
 
226 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 although he knew that he who passed these 
 encomiums was considered a madman ? 
 
 O influence of flattery ! how far dost thou 
 extend, and how unlimited is thy jurisdiction ! 
 The knight was entertained at the house of 
 Don Diego de Miranda with the greatest at- 
 tention for some days, heightened by the 
 literary regale of the son's conversation ; when 
 he thought it necessary to depart, first recom- 
 mending to Don Lorenzo, as a poet, to avoid 
 prejudice in favour of his own productions, 
 but rather take his value of them from the 
 opinions of others : then thanking his liberal 
 entertainers for their hospitality, he took his 
 leave in order to pursue his course towards 
 Saragossa, to the infinite regret of Sancho, 
 who, instead of the more mental repast of his 
 master, had enjoyed the more substantial 
 comforts of a country gentleman's kitchen. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 WEDDING FEAST OF CAMACHO THE RICH, AND HISTORY 
 OF THE ENAMOURED SHEPHERD. 
 
 DON QUIXOTE and Sancho Panza had not 
 proceeded far towards the main road, when 
 they were joined by two students, and two 
 countrymen, returning to their village with 
 some purchases they had been making at a 
 distant town. One of the students respect- 
 fully addressing Don Quixote, said, " If, Sir 
 Knight, your Worship follows no determined 
 road, and will go with us, you may witness 
 one of the most splendid weddings that has 
 been celebrated in these parts." 
 
 The knight professing his willingness to 
 be of the party, the student continued his 
 discourse, saying, " The bridegroom is known 
 by the name of Camacho the Rich, and the 
 bride is called Quiteria the Fair. But a 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 neighbouring swain named .Basil jus^ a sort of 
 foster-brother of her's, is supposed to out- 
 value the riches of Camacho in the opinion of 
 Quiteria ; and the whole neighbourhood is on 
 the edge of curiosity to see how it will ter- 
 minate, as it is thought, that if Camacho 
 succeeds by his gifts and entertainments, 
 Basilius' death will be the consequence." 
 
 Sancho, who had been attentively listening 
 to what had passed, then broke silence, say- 
 ing, "God will order things better; for as 
 he inflicts the wound, he will provide the 
 cure. Allow but that Quiteria loves Basilius, 
 and I'll engage to give him a wallet of good 
 luck ; for love, they say, wears a pair of spec- 
 tacles which converts copper into gold, and 
 makes specks in the eyes appear like pearls. 
 Let me know, the best of ye, if any man can 
 boast of having put a spoke in Fortune's 
 wheel. 5 ' 
 
 " A curse light upon thee," said Don 
 Quixote, " with thy spokes and wheels. Who 
 can have patience to hear thy jargon, or find 
 out what thou wouldst be at ?" 
 
 " As to that matter/' said Sancho, " I was 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 229 
 
 not bred at Court, nor have I studied at Sala- 
 manca, to know whether I am right in every 
 word; but I understand myself; nor do I 
 believe I have said any thing so very nonsen- 
 sical/' " I must assist my good friend there," 
 replied one of the students, " for it cannot be 
 expected that those in the ordinary converse 
 of the world, should speak as good language, 
 as those who pass their time in the cloisters of 
 a university. I have myself studied the canon 
 law at Salamanca, and pique myself on being- 
 able to use clear expressive language." 
 
 " Yes/' rejoined the other student, whose 
 name was Corchuelo, " if you had not 
 piqued yourself so much on your skill with 
 those foils, that you always carry about with 
 you, you would have known something more 
 than mere dead languages." " Then," re- 
 joined the other, " you still hold your pre- 
 judice in respect to the sciences of the world." 
 " So much so," replied Corchuelo, " that, 
 untutored as I am in the art, I will engage 
 by mere strength of nerve, to make you see 
 the stars at noon day ;" and taking one of the 
 foils, he prepared to put his threat in execution* 
 
230 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 The licentiate then put himself in a proper 
 position, whilst Corchuelo assailed him with 
 thrusts, cuts, and strokes, without number; 
 though now and then he was obliged to kiss 
 his adversary's foil, with less devotion than 
 his mistress's lips. At length, finding his gar- 
 ment in tatters, and himself out of breath, 
 Corchuelo hurled away his foil and sat down, 
 spent with fatigue. Then, acknowledging 
 his error in not understanding the noble 
 science of the sword, he got up and embraced 
 the licentiate. 
 
 As they approached the village, it grew 
 dark ; and they were agreeably surprised to 
 find it illuminated, and resounding with in- 
 struments of music, on which various bands 
 of musicians were playing in the adjoining 
 precincts. To the great mortification how- 
 ever of Sancho, Don Quixote declined enter- 
 ing the village at that time, and chose to pass 
 the night in a neighbouring wood. 
 
 At dawn of day, the knight shook off the 
 drowsy fetters of sloth, and finding Sancho 
 stretched out in a deep sleep, took the oppor- 
 tunity of exclaiming as follows ; 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 231 
 
 " Happy thou, who sleepst soundly with 
 unconcern of soul ! No anxious cares or soli- 
 citude of the morrow's provision disturb thee. 
 Ambitious views create in thee no disquiet ; 
 nor does thd vain pomp of this empty world 
 occasion thee any disturbance. Thy concern 
 is centered within the bounds of taking care 
 of Dapple, thy unconscious attendant ; for as 
 to thyself, that charge and burthen is laid 
 upon thy master's shoulders." 
 
 Sancho awaking, burst forth into this apos- 
 trophe; " Blessings on the man who first 
 invented sleep. It so invests one on all sides, 
 that, like a cloak, it screens us from all care 
 and anxiety." Then turning his face up, 
 " umph," continued he, " if my nostrils de- 
 ceive me not, from yonder bowers proceed 
 the steams of broiled rashers of bacon, rather 
 than the fragrance of thyme and jessamine. 
 In my conscience, weddings that begin in 
 this savoury manner, must needs be magni- 
 ficent and abundant." 
 
 Rozinante being saddled, and Dapple's 
 pannel put on, the knight and his squire pro- 
 ceeded towards the artificial bowers, from 
 
232 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 whence the sound of music had reached them 
 on the preceding night. 
 
 The first object that presented itself to the 
 eager eyes of Sancho, was an entire bullock, 
 roasting before a prodigious fire, which was 
 moreover loaded with many pots, of a size ca- 
 pable of containing whole shambles of meat ; 
 and around hung an immense quantity of hares, 
 with wild and plucked fowls, ready to be 
 plunged into these receivers as others were 
 taken out. 
 
 Skins of wine out of number were sus- 
 pended hard by, together with every appurte- 
 nance of good fare ; confectionary, and all 
 sorts of spices, with the whitest bread. San- 
 cho attentively considering every particular, 
 had his whole heart captivated ; and, not 
 being able to contain himself, requested per- 
 mission of one of the cooks to sop a luncheon 
 of bread in the pot. 
 
 '< Hunger does not preside here," said the 
 cook, " skim out a fowl or two, and much 
 good may it do thee." " I have no ladle/' 
 replied Sancho. " God keep thee," said the 
 other, "what a helpless creature thou art." 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 233 
 
 Then dipping out a fowl and a goose with a 
 kettle, " there, take this," said he, "/ladle 
 and all ; for Camacho's riches and good for- 
 tune are sufficient to supply every one." 
 
 While Sancho was thus occupied, Don 
 Quixote was observing the preparations mak- 
 ing for the performances, that were to be 
 represented in honour of the wedding. 
 
 On Sancho's coming up to him, he pro- 
 , duced his acquisition, saying, " There are 
 only two families in the world, as the people 
 of our village say ; these are the have-some- 
 things, and the have-nothings ; now I am for 
 the former, therefore Camacho for me; 
 for now-a-days, master, we are more apt to 
 feel the pulse of property, than of integrity." 
 
 " Heaven grant," said the knight, " that 
 thou mayst be dumb before I die." " In good 
 sooth," replied Sancho, " there is no surety 
 for that particular. Death gobbles up every 
 thing that comes in his way, and knows not 
 what it is to be dainty. He is none of your 
 labourers that take an afternoon's nap; but 
 mows on at all hours, cutting down the dry 
 stubble as well as the green grass." In the 
 
-2m DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 midst of this conversation, their ears were 
 saluted by the din of instruments, announcing 
 the approach of the bride and bridegroom, 
 who came forward surrounded by their friends 
 to view the festive scene. 
 
 As they passed along to take the seats pre- 
 pared for them, a voice from the croud pro- 
 nounced aloud, " Hasty and inconsiderate 
 couple, behold your victim ;" and at the in- 
 stant Basilius appeared, with a chaplet of 
 cypress on his head, and a truncheon in his 
 hand pointed with steel. Thrusting the trun- 
 cheon in the ground with the steel point 
 towards his breast, he with a pale aspect thus 
 addressed Quiteria ; 
 
 " Thou well knowest, ungrateful woman, 
 that thou canst not espouse another husband 
 whilst he to whom thou art betrothed is liv- 
 ing ; therefore, as Heaven seems to ordain it, 
 I will with my own hand remove the impe- 
 diment." 
 
 So saying, he threw himself upon the point 
 of the staff, which apparently came out bloody 
 at his shoulders. 
 
 As he lay bathed in blood, and seemingly 
 
DON QUIXOTE; 235 
 
 transfixed by his own weapon, the company, 
 alarmed at the event, ran together with Don 
 Quixote, to his assistance. But he refused all 
 aid, only requesting that Quiteria would give 
 him her hand to soothe his dying moments. 
 Quiteria, with evident signs of reluctance, 
 assented ; and Camacho, unable to withstand 
 the importunity of all present, also acquiesced. 
 But no sooner were the hands of Quiteria and 
 Basilius joined together, and the nuptial be- 
 nediction given by the priest, than Basilius 
 started up, and withdrew the blade that ap- 
 peared to have been in his body, but which 
 had been sheathed in a case, prepared with 
 blood to give it the semblance of its flowing 
 from the wound. The fraud being disclosed, 
 the friends of Camacho put themselves in 
 array to punish the deceit. But Basilius hav- 
 ing many of the bystanders in his interest, 
 together with the formidable appearance of 
 Don Quixote in his behalf, quiet was at length 
 restored ; and Camacho, considering the pro- 
 bable inconstancy of Quiteria, consoled him- 
 self with the reflection, that the proof had not 
 come too late ; and desired that the feasts and 
 
236 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 pastimes should not be disturbed, but a wel- 
 come given to all. 
 
 Basilius however declined the offer, and 
 with Quiteria and his friends retired to a more 
 frugal repast, in which Don Quixote was re- 
 ceived as a principal guest ; an attention, 
 however agreeable to his master, not much to 
 Sancho's mind, on whom the good fare of 
 Camacho had made no little impression. 
 
 After sojourning a short time with the new- 
 married couple, and with much advice for 
 their discreet conduct, the knight took his 
 leave and proceeded towards the main road. 
 
CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 ADVENTURE OF THE ENCHANTED BARK AND PUPPET- 
 SHOW AT THE INN, AND THE BRAYING ADVEN- 
 TURE. 
 
 BY dint of hard travelling for the space of 
 two days, Don Quixote and Sancho arrived 
 at the banks of the river Ebro, the transpa- 
 rency of whose stream, with the tranquillity 
 of its course, inspired the most romantic 
 thoughts ; and the knight, perceiving a boat 
 without oars or tackle, fastened to a stump of 
 a tree, was immediately possessed with the 
 imagination that it was placed there on pur- 
 pose to transport him, for the achievement of 
 some grand enterprize. 
 
 In vain did Sancho remonstrate that the 
 boat could belong to none but fishermen. 
 He was nevertheless, by the knight's com- 
 mand, constrained to secure their cattle, and 
 
238 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 embark with him on the stream, which ran 
 with a smooth and quiet course. In this 
 manner they proceeded, until they discovered 
 some large mills built in the middle of the 
 river : when Don Quixote exclaimed, " Be- 
 hold, Sancho, the fortress that contains some 
 oppressed princess whom I am destined to 
 relieve." 
 
 " What does your Worship mean by a 
 fortress?" replied Sancho, " don't you see 
 that those buildings are mills for grinding 
 wheat ?" " I tell thee, Sancho," rejoined 
 the knight, " that what to thee appear mills, 
 are, in reality, edifices of another description." 
 
 By this time the boat being drawn into the 
 vortex of the mill-stream, was hastening along 
 to the indraught of the wheels; when the 
 millers, coming out in a body, with long 
 poles and faces bepowdered with meal, voci- 
 ferated with great vehemence ; " Are you 
 mad to come and be ground to pieces by the 
 wheels of the mill ?" 
 
 Don Quixote taking them by their appear- 
 ance for a parcel of hobgoblins, unsheathed 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 239 
 
 his sword, and brandishing it in the air, reviled 
 them in the following terms ; 
 
 " Approach ye scoundrels, I charge ye to 
 restore to freedom the princess ye immure in 
 that fortress." 
 
 As for Sancho, he fell on his knees, pray- 
 ing for deliverance from the imminent danger 
 they were in ; which the millers with difficulty 
 averted with their long poles, but not with- 
 out oversetting the boat, and drenching both 
 the knigh* ^d his squire in the stream. 
 
 Hauled ashore in a dripping condition, 
 Sancho found there was the further mortifica- 
 tion of paying for the boat which had been 
 staved to pieces by the mill-wheels. 
 
 In a melancholy plight, the master and 
 man quitted this scene of disaster ; and conti- 
 nued travelling till dusk, when they ap- 
 proached an inn, which to Sancho's great 
 joy, his master did not call a castle. 
 
 As they entered the inn-door, a man with a 
 patch on one eye and cheek, came in, saying, 
 " So ho, Mr. Landlord, have yoi* got any 
 lodging for the travelling ape, and puppet- 
 
240 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 show containing the deliverance of Melesin- 
 dra ?" 
 
 " The Duke of Alva himself," said the 
 landlord, " should turn out for Master Peter. 
 Pray bring your ape and show in, for there 
 are people in the house who will pay for their 
 exhibition." 
 
 Don Quixote inquiring who this Peter was, 
 the landlord replied ; " He is a famous show- 
 man, who has travelled through La Manqha 
 and Arragon ; representing tfo^or \y of Don 
 Gayfero's delivering Melesindra from her im- 
 prisonment, and carries with him a wonderful, 
 gifted ape.'* As he spoke, Master Peter came 
 up with his equipage. The knight addressed 
 him, saying ; " Pray Mr. Fortune-teller what 
 have you got in the net ? What fortune 
 awaits us ?" 
 
 Yc My ape," said Master Peter, " is only 
 acquainted with the past, and knows a little 
 of the present ; he does not meddle with the 
 future." " As to the past," said Sancho, 
 " who would be the better for knowing that ? 
 But for the present, here is my fee ; tell me 
 what my wife Teresa is now doing ?" 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 241 
 
 The ape, on his master's beckoning, 
 jumped on his shoulder and began to chatter ; 
 when the showman (well aware of the parties 
 he had to deal with) entered upon a long 
 rhapsody on the knight's adventures; then 
 praising Sancho's fidelity, finished with say- 
 ing ; that his wife Teresa was employed in 
 dressing flax, and emptying a pitcher of wine 
 that stood before her. " Likely enough," 
 said Sancho, " for my wife is one of those 
 who will live to their heart's content/' 
 
 " I am now persuaded," declared Don 
 Quixote, " that he who reads and travels 
 much will learn a great deal. Nothing but 
 the evidence of my own eyes could convince 
 me that apes are endowed with the gift of 
 divination." 
 
 It was now settled, that the representation 
 of Melesindra's deliverance should take place 
 that evening ; and the people of the inn being 
 assembled, and the curtain drawn up to ex- 
 hibit the puppets, Don Gayferos appeared on 
 horseback with the Lady Melesindra riding 
 behind him, making the best of their way to 
 their own country : when, on a sudden, a 
 
 R 
 
242 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 crowd of armed men with drums and kettle- 
 drums hastening after them, made their ap- 
 pearance. - 
 
 .Don Quixote beholding such a number of 
 Moors, and hearing such an uproar, started 
 
 Vj 
 
 up, unsheathed his sword, and exclaimed 
 with a loud voice, " Never, whilst I live, 
 shall such a valiant knight as Don Gayferos 
 be overtaken by such a rabble." 
 
 So beginning to hack and cut among the 
 puppets, the monkey scampered away, and 
 Mr. Peter himself narrowly escaped one of 
 the knight's back strokes ; the whole repre- 
 sentation was" put to the rout, in spite of 
 Sancho's earnest intreaties to his master to 
 forbear. 
 
 Whilst Don Quixote exulted over the 
 wreck, Mr. Peter, with a disconsolate air, 
 came forward, stating his great loss, with the 
 narrow escape of his own life and the disap- 
 pearance of his ape. 
 
 Don Quixote then perceived that the 
 enchanters had again been playing him a 
 scurvy trick ; and ordered Sancho to take an 
 account of the damage, that the showman 
 
BON QUIXOTE. 243 
 
 might be indemnified. The landlord of the 
 inn being arbiter in this business, the dis- 
 membered puppets were produced ; and that 
 of Melesindra's figure among the rest being 
 brought forward, the knight's extravagant 
 bias was again awakened, and he exclaimed, 
 " Fair and softly my friends; surely my 
 aid has not been so fruitless, as that Melesin- 
 dra should not have escaped." Mr. Peter's 
 prudence, however, compromised this diffi- 
 culty ; and having in the course of the night 
 recovered his ape, he, in order not to be again 
 involved in further disputes, arose before the 
 sun and took his departure without any dis- 
 covery of himself to his former acquaintances ; 
 being, in fact, no less a personage than Gines 
 de Passamonte of former record, who, in 
 order to evade the search of the Holy Bro- 
 therhood, had taken upon him this disguise 
 and occupation, and had no great difficulty 
 in recognizing the knight and his squire. 
 
 Don Quixote and Sancho having departed 
 
 from the inn, travelled for some time, without 
 
 meeting any thing worthy of notice : when, 
 
 as they ascended an eminence, their ears 
 
 R 2 
 
244 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 were saluted with the din of warlike instru- 
 ments; and going a little further, they had a 
 view of a body of men, equipped with differ- 
 ent kinds of arms and colours; amongst 
 which was to be distinguished a banner with 
 the figure of an ass pourtrayed, lolling out its 
 tongue with this scroll at the end of it : 
 
 a 
 
 It is no children's play, 
 When brother bailiffs bray. 
 
 The sight of so many armed men, had an 
 immediate effect on the heated imagination 
 of Don Quixote, who took them for the 
 masses of people he had read of, arrayed 
 under the pompous names of their leaders, 
 Pentapobin, Alifunfaron, and others that he 
 enumerated to Sancho, who would fain have 
 persuaded his master to pass by without in- 
 terfering. Don Quixote nevertheless rode 
 towards the standards, and in a courteous 
 manner approached the chiefs, who gazed at 
 him with the surprize incident to all who had 
 not seen him before. 
 
 A general pause ensued, and Don Quixote 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 245 
 
 taking advantage of it, asked them the cause 
 of their being thus assembled, proffering at 
 the same time his own personal aid. One of 
 them in a civil manner, gave the information 
 requested, saying, that a magistrate of a 
 neighbouring township called Braywick, hav- 
 ing lost a favourite ass, bewailed his loss to a 
 fellow bailiff, who, either with a view of jeer- 
 ing him, or from some evil intention, told 
 him he had seen it not long since on an ad- 
 joining mountain, and offered to accompany 
 him in search of it. 
 
 The ass, however, not being found, the 
 bailiff, to carry on the joke, proposed that 
 they should separate and traverse different 
 sides of the mountain, and from time to time 
 bray out, so that if the ass were near the 
 spot, it would approach the sound and be 
 recovered. 
 
 The magistrate, approving of the scheme, 
 took his post, and brayed with so much vehe- 
 mence that the bailiff complimented him 
 highly on his execution ; and the loss was 
 forgotten. Nevertheless, the story getting 
 wind, the inhabitants of the neighbouring 
 
246 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 villages never met with those of the township 
 of Bray wick without a jeer ; which has so 
 enraged the latter, that they have challenged 
 all their neighbours, and have here assembled 
 to wait the result. 
 
 Sancho Panza, finding this quarrel within 
 the compass of his own understanding, took 
 upon himself to make a speech upon the 
 occasion ; 
 
 " I remember," said he, " when a boy, I 
 brayed so naturally that I was answered by 
 all the asses on the common. Although I 
 was envied by the gravest folks of the parish, 
 I minded not their envy ; but valued the art 
 and preserved it in my memory, of which I 
 will now give you a specimen." 
 
 Having thus spoken, he placed his fingers 
 to his nostrils, and brayed so loudly, that all 
 the country resounded. The parties, who 
 had met on the plain to fight out the quarrel, 
 took this unseasonable experiment as a joke 
 designed to ridicule them ; and in spite of 
 Don Quixote's interference, handled Sancho 
 so roughly, that his whole body was one 
 bruise, and the knight himself was fain at last 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 247 
 
 to quit the field, from the number of assail- 
 ants, with their muskets and cross-bows. 
 The combatants having laid Sancho on his 
 ass Dapple, the animal spontaneously fol- 
 lowed the footsteps of Rozinante, and thus he 
 was enabled to rejoin his master ; from whom, 
 when come to himself, he received more re- 
 bukes for his indiscretion, than condolence 
 for his situation. 
 
 The evening now approaching, both master 
 and man adjourned to their usual nightly 
 abode, the shelter of a wood. But Sancho's 
 bruises keeping him from sleeping great part 
 of the night, he was led to reflect upon the 
 disasters he had lately experienced : but 
 what weighed down his spirits most, was the 
 impoverished condition of the stock purse, 
 which so many extravagant acts had nearly 
 exhausted. This circumstance almost deter- 
 mined him to return home ; but a lucky hit 
 turning up, dispelled the gloom of his coun- 
 tenance, and, at length, put him in possession 
 of that government he had so long hankered 
 after. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 DON QUIXOTE AND SANCHO's INTERVIEW WITH A 
 FAIR HUNTRESS ; THEIR INVITATION AND RECEPTION 
 AT THE DUKE AND DUCHESS* CASTLE. 
 
 THE cheerful morn now advanced, the flowers 
 of the field diffused their fragrance, and the 
 liquid crystal of the rills meandered along 
 to swell the rivers that sought the bosom of 
 the ocean. The joyous earth, with its choral 
 tribes that flitted beneath the splendid firma- 
 ment, the light, unclouded air, all proclaimed 
 that the approaching day would be serene 
 and fair. Under these auspices, late griefs 
 were, in a great measure, obliterated ; and 
 as the knight and his squire issued from the 
 wood, they perceived a party at a distance 
 that appeared to be hawking. Approaching 
 nearer, they observed a lady amidst them 
 mounted upon a grey palfrey, with green and 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 249 
 
 silver housings, and herself dressed in a rich 
 habit of the same colour, highly ornamented; 
 and on her left hand she carried a hawk. 
 
 From this circumstance, the knight in- 
 ferred that she was a lady of high rank : he 
 therefore ordered Sancho to go and make a 
 tender of his services, and inform her that he 
 was the knight of the lions. 
 
 Sancho approached the lady, and falling 
 on his knees, said, that his master, the 
 knight of the lions, would be glad to pay his 
 respects to her excellent beauty, and obey 
 her commands. 
 
 The lady, with great affability, replied, 
 " Rise, friend, go and tell your master, that 
 he is extremely welcome to the services of 
 the duke my husband at our country seat in 
 the neighbourhood. Sancho, overjoyed at 
 this affable reception, returned to his master, 
 extolling the fair huntress's beauty, and mak- 
 ing his report of the invitation. 
 
 Don Quixote, upon this, summoned up his 
 best deportment, to present himself before 
 her, twirling up his mustachios, and adjusting 
 himself in one of his most genteel attitudes. 
 
250 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 The lady had by this time, settled with the 
 duke her husband the manner of the knight's 
 reception ; for, having read the first part of 
 his adventures, they had no little curiosity to 
 be acquainted with the original; and the 
 duchess in particular, proposed to herself 
 much entertainment from the simplicity of 
 Sancho. 
 
 When therefore the knight approached, 
 she and her husband were fully prepared to 
 treat him with all the form and ceremony 
 appertaining to the order he had assumed. 
 But it unluckily happened, that Don Quix- 
 ote, depending upon his trusty squire's assist- 
 ance in securing his stirrup, (who in this 
 instance had been a little negligent) our 
 hero, for the want of such support came 
 headlong to the ground, instead of the grace- 
 ful salutation he had prepared to make. 
 
 This confusion being set to rights, Don 
 Quixote was placed between the duke and 
 duchess, and Sancho on the side next to her, 
 who, mingling in the conversation as they 
 rode along, uttered whatever conceit came 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 251 
 
 up, to the unspeakable satisfaction of their 
 graces. 
 
 When they approached the duke's habita- 
 tion, (which Don Quixote was delighted to 
 see was a real castle, with all its appendages 
 of moats, draw-bridges, and battlements) ser- 
 vants of different descriptions came out, and 
 were ordered to be particularly attentive to 
 Don Quixote ; who, escorted by the duke and 
 duchess, entered the hall in great state, with 
 Sancho close behind. 
 
 But Sancho's conscience upbraiding him 
 with the desertion of Dapple, he went up to 
 the principal duenna, (who, with the other 
 dames, had come out to receive the duchess) 
 and besought her to go to the castle-gate and 
 look after Dapple, saying, that the poor 
 animal was apt to be timorous in a strange 
 place. 
 
 " If the master," exclaimed the duenna, 
 " is as discreet as the man, we have made a 
 fine acquisition truly ; Go, get you gone, bro- 
 ther, and take care of your animal with your 
 own hands. The duennas of this house are 
 not used to such employments." 
 
252 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 This and more angry language passing, 
 caught the ears of the duchess ; and Sancho's 
 commission to the duenna was put aside, with 
 an assurance of proper attention being paid 
 to Dapple. 
 
 Don Quixote being dressed, was attended 
 in great state to the dining-room ; where the 
 duke and duchess, accompanied by an eccle- 
 siastic (as is customary in great houses, in 
 Catholic countries) were ready to receive 
 him. After much difficulty, the knight was 
 obliged to take the head of the table, with the 
 ecclesiastic opposite, and the duke and duchess 
 on the side. 
 
 Sancho observing all this ceremony, in- 
 truded himself in the discourse by saying, 
 " With your Grace's permission I'll tell a 
 story that happened in our village, with re- 
 spect to taking the upper place at table/' 
 
 Don Quixote expecting some absurdity, 
 and shewing manifest signs of disapprobation, 
 Sancho to re-assure him, said, " Your Wor- 
 ship need not be afraid that I should misbe- 
 have ; I have not forgotten your advice as to 
 speaking to the purpose or not." 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 253 
 
 " Your Graces will do well," replied the 
 knight, " to order this buffoon from the table, 
 for he will commit a thousand blunders." 
 " By the life of my lord duke," replied the 
 duchess, " I will not part with my friend 
 Sancho. Let him proceed with his story." 
 
 " Well then," said Sancho, " a gentleman 
 of our town, (whom I know as well as I 
 know these hands, for it is not a bowshot 
 from his house to mine) invited a farmer to 
 dinner (who though not very rich, was a very 
 honest man.)" " Dispatch, brother," said 
 the priest, hastily, " or your story will reach 
 to the other world." 
 
 " As I was just about saying,'' continued 
 Sancho, " the farmer accepted the invitation 
 of the gentleman (who, poor soul is now dead, 
 and they say he died like an angel. For my 
 part I was not present at his death, having 
 gone reaping to Tembleque.)" " As you 
 hope to live," interrupted the ecclesiastic, 
 " return quickly from Tembleque and finish 
 your story." " Well, to come to the point," 
 continued Sancho, " when the two parties 
 were proceeding to take their places at the 
 
254 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 table ; (methinks I see them both now, more 
 than ever.)" 
 
 The priest's patience was again put to the 
 torture, and the duke and duchess were highly 
 diverted by his pettishness at Sancho's cir- 
 cumlocutory relation ; whilst Don Quixote 
 could with difficulty breathe from vexation. 
 " I say," resumed Sancho, " when the two 
 parties came to the table, the farmer abso- 
 lutely refused to take the upper seat, and the 
 gentleman as pertinaciously insisted upon his 
 compliance ; at last, growing angry, he took 
 the farmer by the shoulders, and placed him 
 in the seat, saying ; cc Know, Mr. Chaff- 
 thresher, that wherever I sit, I shall always 
 be at the head of my own table." 
 
 " Now this is my tale," concluded Sancho, 
 " and I believe it is tolerably pat to the pur- 
 pose." 
 
 Don Quixote's brown face was speckled 
 over with a thousand colours at this recital ; 
 and the duke and duchess, to restrain the 
 rising laughter, asked him if he had lately 
 seen his mistress Dulcinea, and whether she 
 had received with complacency the number- 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 255 
 
 less trophies laid at her feet, by the giants 
 that had been conquered by his powerful 
 arm. 
 
 The ecclesiastic, hearing Dulcinea's name 
 coupled with the introduction of giants, con- 
 cluded that this must be the individual* Don 
 Quixote, whose history the duke and duchess 
 took so much pleasure in reading, and the 
 perusal of which he had so often repre- 
 hended. 
 
 In a very choleric manner, he addressed 
 the knight, saying, " Pray, Mr. Wiseacre, 
 who has stuffed your brains with the conceit 
 of being a knight-errant, conquering giants 
 and apprehending robbers ? Return to your 
 own house, take care of your own concerns ; 
 and leave off exposing yourself to the deri- 
 sion of the whole world." 
 
 The knight, trembling with rage from head 
 to foot, replied, " Shall a narrow-minded 
 pedant, who has never surveyed a farther 
 extent, than the limited precincts of his own 
 province, presume, on the mere slender ground 
 of having taught a few pupils to read Latin, 
 abruptly to decide on the merits of chivalry ? 
 
256 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 or, by intermeddling in the private concerns 
 of families, think himself qualified to judge 
 of the world's transactions at large ? Is it to 
 be deemed a vain undertaking, or is it mis- 
 spending time to travel through the world in 
 arms ? not in quest of its delights, but through 
 the path of adversity, to pass on to the throne 
 of immortality. 
 
 " Had I been deemed a fool by knights 
 and people of quality, I should have consi- 
 dered myself irreparably affronted ; but my 
 being considered a madman by a bookworm, 
 I value not a rush. A knight I have lived 
 and a knight I will die when it pleases the 
 Almighty." 
 
 The ecclesiastic then rose from the table, 
 declaring that their Graces were accountable 
 to heaven for the actions of such a maniac ; 
 for, added he, " What wonder is it that he 
 should be mad, when people who are in their 
 senses canonize the frenzy?" So saying, he 
 went abruptly to his own apartment. 
 
 This fit of spleen did not disturb the duke 
 and duchess, who, with unabated satisfaction, 
 continued at table, till the time of taking the 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 257 
 
 afternoon repose (as is usual in sultry cli- 
 mates) having arrived, the company separated 
 for that purpose, except Sancho; who was 
 detained by the duchess to pass part of the 
 afternoon with herself and women. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 SANCHO PANZA'S CONVERSATION WITH THE DUCHESS 
 HE OBTAINS THE GOVERNMENT HE SOUGHT AFTER 
 
 
 HIS CONDUCT IN IT. 
 
 SANCHO, being placed on a stool before the 
 duchess, and encouraged by her promise of 
 intercession with the duke her husband, re- 
 specting the island he so much wished to pos- 
 sess, answered with alacrity to the different 
 interrogations put to him, as to sundry pas- 
 sages of his master's life and adventures. 
 
 Having in the course of the detail acknow- 
 ledged himself convinced of his master's in- 
 firmity, the duchess asked him, what other 
 inference was to be drawn from his serving 
 under such a description of character, but 
 that he himself must partake of the disorder ; 
 and that it might be a question, how far she 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 259 
 
 herself should be justified in supporting him 
 in this project of making him a governor. 
 
 " Your Grace's scruples," replied Sancho, 
 " start in the right place. Had I been wise, 
 I should have left my master long ago ; but 
 it is my fate to follow him, and I cannot do 
 otherwise. We are of the same place, I have 
 eaten his bread and am attached to him, and 
 nothing now can part us but the sexton's 
 shovel. Therefore if your Grace will not 
 give me your support towards gaining this 
 island, because I am a fool ; I shall however 
 be so wise as not to break my heart at the 
 disappointment." 
 
 The duchess could not help admiring the 
 naivete of Sancho's explanation ; and, on his 
 dismissal, re-assured him of her good offices 
 with her husband. The duke accordingly, 
 at her instance, having taken his measures, 
 ordered Sancho to be informed, that he must 
 prepare himself forthwith, and set out to take 
 charge of the island committed to his care. 
 
 Don Quixote, availing himself of the inter- 
 vening moments to give his Squire some in- 
 structions, with regard to his conduct in this 
 
 s 2 
 
260 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 change of situation, in a grave and solid 
 manner spoke to this effect. 
 
 " I return thanks to heaven, friend Sancho, 
 for having ordained, that before my own 
 labours have been crowned with success, 
 good fortune should have bid thee welcome. 
 Thou, in comparison with myself, art certainly 
 an ignorant clown ; and without any preten- 
 sion, save that of having been fostered by the 
 hand of chivalry, seest thyself raised to the 
 dignity of governor. All this I observe, San- 
 cho, that thou mayest not attribute thy success 
 to thy own merits ; but, by knowing who 
 thou art, and who thou hast been, best learn 
 to know thyself." 
 
 " I kept hogs when I was a boy," replied 
 Sancho, " but after I grew up, I quitted that 
 employment and looked after geese." 
 
 "No matter," replied the knight, "what 
 thy employment was ; my advice is intended 
 to qualify thee, as much as possible, for thy 
 new situation ; and to repress that inflation 
 of mind, that good fortune is apt to produce. 
 
 " Do not attempt to disguise the lowness of 
 thy pedigree, or be ashamed to acknowledge 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 thyself descended from peasants. If thou 
 choosest virtue for thy polar star, elevated 
 birth may be dispensed with, as not being of 
 like intrinsic importance." 
 
 From the higher qualities of conduct, the 
 knight proceeded to the requisites of personal 
 attention, to the garb and neatness of person, 
 indispensable in his new dignity ; and ended 
 with charging him to be sparing of his words ; 
 and to be careful not to intermix proverbs 
 with his discourse. 
 
 Sancho expressed his hopelessness of amend- 
 ment in that particular; but assured his 
 master, that if he favoured him with his in- 
 structions in writing, they should be put in 
 his confessor's hands, who might read them 
 to him, and so supply the defects of his 
 memory, since he was unable himself to 
 peruse them. " What a scandal," exclaimed 
 Don Quixote, " a governor unable to read or 
 write!" 
 
 " Signior," replied Sancho, " you must 
 remember that it was you yourself who put 
 this scheme of being governor into my head. 
 But if you think I shall be a disgrace to you, 
 
262 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 and misbehave in this government, I renounce 
 it most willingly." 
 
 <c Sancho," rejoined Don Quixote, " thou 
 hast an excellent natural disposition, without 
 which all science is nought ; and whilst thy 
 intention and unshaken purpose is to deal 
 uprightly in thy transactions, heaven will lend 
 thee necessary aid." 
 
 A summons for Sancho's repairing to the 
 hall, where the steward was in waiting to 
 conduct him to his government, broke off the 
 dialogue. 
 
 Sancho, having kissed the duke and duch- 
 ess's hands and received the benediction of 
 his master, proceeded on a mule; having 
 Dapple in his rear, dressed as fine as the mule 
 on which he himself was riding. When San- 
 cho arrived at the principal town of the 
 island, (as he was told it Was, and called 
 Barataria) he was received in form by the 
 magistrates and chief inhabitants, and the 
 keys presented to him. Being placed on a 
 seat in the town-hall, the steward, who had 
 been the whole time close to him, now in- 
 formed him, that it was an ancient custom in 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 263 
 
 the island, for some intricate questions to be 
 put to every new Governor, so that the inha- 
 bitants might be enabled to judge of his ge- 
 nius and capacity. 
 
 Sancho's corpulence and diminutive stature 
 afforded no little food for admiration to the 
 bystanders, and his dexterity in answering 
 the questions proposed did not lessen their 
 surprise. 
 
 Two men entered the hall, one in the habit 
 of a labouring man, and the other a taylor 
 with his sheers in his hand. The latter ap- 
 proaching, said, 
 
 " This countryman and myself come before 
 your Worship, to have decision given in an 
 affair between us. Yesterday he brought me 
 a remnant of cloth, and asked if there was 
 stuff enough to make a cap ; upon my assent- 
 ing, he asked if it would make two ; to this I 
 agreed, and he continued to ask on, till his 
 desire extended to the length of having five 
 caps made of it : accordingly, this morning, 
 taking the five caps to him, he not only re- 
 fused to pay me for my trouble, but also re- 
 quires the cloth back again, or the price of it." 
 
264 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 " Is this really the case, Gaffer?" said San- 
 cho. " Yes, my Lord Governor," replied the 
 countryman. " But I beg your Worship 
 would order the sort of caps he has made to 
 be produced." The taylor taking his hand 
 from under his cloak, shewed five small caps, 
 fixed upon the tops of his fingers and thumb, 
 saying, " As I shall answer to my conscience, 
 there is not a scrap of the stuff remaining, and 
 I appeal to any of the trade if the work is not 
 test worthy." 
 
 The people in the court laughed at the 
 number of caps, and novelty of the dispute; 
 when Sancho Panza, having considered for a 
 few minutes, said, " This affair may be de- 
 termined offhand. The taylor for his joke 
 shall lose payment for his work ; and the 
 countryman for his unreasonable expectation, 
 shall forfeit his cloth." So saying, he ordered 
 the caps to be distributed among the children. 
 
 Other questions being brought forward and 
 disposed of with similar dexterity, my Lord 
 Governor began to pant for breath, and look 
 with an earnest eye for a eall to dinner, as 
 being a ceremony the least to be dispensed 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 265 
 
 with in the elevated situation he had now at- 
 tained. 
 
 At length he was ushered into the hall of a 
 sumptuous palace, where a table was set out 
 with a variety of dishes and one cover only : 
 by the side of the Governor's seat, stood a 
 personage with a rod of whalebone in his 
 hand. 
 
 Grace being said, and the Governor 
 seated, a plate of fruit was set before him ; 
 but scarcely had he swallowed any, before 
 the wand touched the plate and it vanished : 
 in this manner were several of the different 
 services of the dinner consigned away, to the 
 infinite amazement of Sancho Panza, who 
 asked, if he must be obliged to eat like a 
 juggler by slight of hand. 
 
 The personage who held the wand ac- 
 quainted him, that he was physician of the 
 household, and it was his duty to take par- 
 ticular care of the Governor's health. If that 
 be the case, said Sancho, good Mr. Doctor, 
 pray examine all the dishes that remain on 
 the table, and point out that which will do 
 me least harm and most good ; for by the life 
 
266 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 of a Governor I am ready to die with hunger. 
 Your Lordship is in the right, replied the 
 physician, and, as repletion is the cause of 
 most complaints, I should recommend about a 
 dozen of confected wafers, and a few slices of 
 quince, as favourable to the digestion. Sancho 
 Panza, who could ill bear to be tantalized 
 in an affair so important to him as his meals, 
 flew into a violent passion, and taking up the 
 chair on which he had been seated, demanded 
 in a furious tone the name of the officious 
 physician. 
 
 The physician answered, that his name 
 was Dr. Snatch away, taking his degrees at 
 the university of Ossuna. " Mark you then, 
 Dr. Snap," said the Governor Sancho, " if 
 you do not instantly quit my presence, I shall 
 not only shorten your name but your life, for 
 your attempt on mine : I say then, begone, 
 or I shall make an immediate application of 
 this chair to your skull," Whilst in this 
 choler, a page entered, saying, that a coun- 
 tryman at the outward gate urgently desired 
 admission. 
 
 The Governor, not in the best humour to 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 267 
 
 attend to other people's affairs whilst his own 
 were in so bad a condition, nevertheless gave 
 orders that he might approach. The coun- 
 tryman, making his obeisance, stated, that he 
 lived at a village called Miquel Terra, and 
 was a widower with two sons, one of whom 
 was on the point of marriage with the daugh- 
 ter of a yeoman of the same place. After 
 this exordium, he drew a picture of the young 
 lady's person ; but with so much prolixity, 
 that Sancho, desirous of retiring to his repose, 
 required to know what it was he wanted from 
 him in this affair. " Your sanction to the 
 match," replied the countryman. " Is there 
 any thing else, honest friend ?" said the Go- 
 vernor, " speak without fear or restraint." 
 " I did want something else," rejoined the 
 countryman, " could I be so bold as to ask 
 
 it but . . . but it must come ; therefore, 
 
 my Lord Governor, my further request is, 
 that your Lordship would bestow a few 
 hundred ducats to set up the young people's 
 household." 
 
 Sancho, who had all this time kept fast 
 hold of his chair, was ready to transfer his 
 
268 DON QtflXOTE. 
 
 vengeance from the physician to the rustic, 
 who had thus unseasonably played upon him, 
 had not the fellow very promptly made his 
 escape; and the Duke's officers, to soothe 
 Sancho's wrath, promised him a plentiful re- 
 past after his afternoon's repose. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 SANCHO PANZA'S FURTHER PROCEEDINGS IN HIS 
 
 GOVERNMENT HE SOON GROWS WEARY AND 
 
 QUITS IT. 
 
 EVENING being now arrived, and the governor 
 Sancho regaled more to his satisfaction than 
 at noon, those of the household whose busi- 
 ness it was to attend to the police of the 
 town, proceeded with him at their head, to 
 make the tour of the place. 
 
 They had not gone far, when the alguazils 
 intercepted a young person, who was evi- 
 dently a female, though dressed in male 
 attire, and that of the most splendid descrip- 
 tion ; interrogated as to the cause of her being 
 abroad at such a time and under such a dis- 
 guise, she assured them it was with no cri- 
 minal view, though some reluctance could 
 not but be expected at an explanation before 
 
270 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 so many persons. The inferior officers retir- 
 ing aside, the young person with some con- 
 straint, confessed that, being immured through 
 life in her father's house, she had conceived a 
 great desire to make a tour through the 
 streets and squares of the town ; and had 
 prevailed on her brother to consent to her 
 disguising herself in one of his suits of clothes, 
 and for him to accompany her ; but on their 
 return from their ramble, they had unfor- 
 tunately fallen in with the watch, and her 
 brother hurrying off, she, in following him 
 stumbled, and was overtaken. The youth 
 her brother, who had also been apprehended 
 was now produced, and confirmed the truth 
 of her account. Sancho, with proper admo- 
 nitions to them both, had them conducted 
 safely home, where a servant was waiting 
 to receive them. 
 
 The next rencontre was with two men 
 with their swords drawn, fighting with all 
 their mi^ht. Both, it appeared, had just 
 come out of a gambling house, and the spokes- 
 man (who was one of those characters that 
 are on the look out for any prize) stated, that 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 271 
 
 he had assisted the other party in winning a 
 considerable sum, and the niggardliness of 
 the other, obliged him in this manner to assert 
 his right to a share of the winnings. 
 
 Sancho, in this case, adjudged, that he 
 should receive a specific share of the money 
 won ; and abide by his ordinance of banish- 
 ment from the island, under forfeiture of his 
 life, on any future appearance in it. And 
 that the other party should be liable to the 
 same penalty, if found again frequenting 
 gambling houses. 
 
 Thus ended the round for that night ; and 
 in this way, for a while, the affairs of Sancho's 
 government went on ; in the forenoon the 
 judicial concerns, and those of the police when 
 night darkened the earth. 
 
 But to expect that the affairs of this life 
 will long remain in the same posture, is a wild 
 supposition ; so with respect to Sancho ; 
 time, with its incessant pace, was 'bringing 
 round an invasion of his island. 
 
 For whilst the poor Governor was plan- 
 ning statutes and regulations on his pillow, 
 (for what with hunger and intricate ques- 
 
272 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 tions, Sancho's rest was not so good as it 
 used to be) the noise of bells and din of war- 
 like instruments, roused him from his couch. 
 
 He was soon informed that the town was 
 attacked, and that he must arm himself and 
 head the inhabitants who were assembled in 
 the market place. 
 
 In vain did Sancho plead that he was no 
 warrior ; he was obliged to invest himself in 
 arms : and being thrown down in the bustle, 
 his carcase was trampled over during the 
 fray. The sound of victory, however, at last 
 saluted his ears, and he was released from his 
 thraldom, after having expected every moment 
 to be his last. The congratulations on this 
 victory were received by Sancho in a very 
 faint manner ; from the consternation he had 
 been in, and from his bruises, he had scarcely 
 the power of articulation. At length, being 
 a little recovered, he betook himself to the 
 stable, followed by all the bystanders ; and 
 there embracing Dapple, with the tears 
 streaming from his eyes, he said, 
 
 " Come hither my old friend, and sharer 
 of my toils and distress. When you and I 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 273 
 
 consorted togetjier^nd^IJtiad no other thought 
 than what respected you and your furniture, 
 happy were my hours and days. But since 
 pride and ambition have taken place of these 
 cares, a thousand disquiets have possessed 
 me." Having then equipped and mounted 
 Dapple, he directed his discourse to the Duke's 
 servants, saying, " Make way, Gentlemen, 
 and let me go in quest of my former life ; I 
 was not born to be a Governor or a warrior, 
 and am better^ yersed^Jiusb^ 
 making laws or defending provinces. In this 
 stable I leave my wings that carried me up to 
 the clouds, to make me a prey to martlets 
 and other birds." 
 
 To this address the steward replied, " We 
 shall freely allow your worship to depart, 
 though we shall be the sufferers by the loss : 
 but it is well known, that every Governor, 
 before he quits his station, is obliged to submit 
 his administration of it to a scrutiny." " What 
 scrutiny," said Sancho, " can be necessary, 
 when pennyless I took possession of this go- 
 vernment, and pennyless I resign the office." 
 To this unanswerable reasoning no reply 
 
 T 
 
274 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 could be made ; and Sancho took his leave, 
 to the no small admiration of the witnesses of 
 his resolution. As he proceeded along the 
 highway, very anxious to meet his master 
 Don Quixote again, he beheld coming towards 
 him several pilgrims, who, as they approached 
 him, made a lane, and (as usual amongst 
 their cast) accosted him in a singing tone, 
 holding up an empty purse as a sign that they 
 wanted money, Sancho displayed the back 
 of his hand, as emblematic of his deficiency 
 in that article. 
 
 However, as he passed along, one of them 
 considering him very attentively, laid hold of 
 Dapple's halter, and exclaimed aloud in very 
 good Spanish, " What is this I see ? Is it 
 possible that this is my good friend and neigh- 
 bour Sancho Panza ? Canst thou not recol- 
 lect Ricote the Morisco shopkeeper that lived 
 in thy village." 
 
 Sancho recognizing his features, embraced 
 him and said, " Who could know thee, 
 Ricote, in this disguise ? But tell me what 
 has induced thee to enter Spain again, where, 
 if you are discovered you will suffer for your 
 rashness ?" 
 
 v 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 275 
 
 " This disguise is my security," replied 
 Ricote. " But let us retire to yon poplar trees, 
 where ray companions and ourselves can take 
 some refreshment and repose ; and where I 
 shall have an opportunity to recount to you 
 what has befallen me, since, in obedience to 
 his Majesty's proclamation I departed from 
 the kingdom." 
 
 The whole party repairing to the trees, the 
 pilgrims laid aside their staves and mantles, 
 and produced their stores, consisting chiefly 
 of nuts, crusts of cheese and bones of bacon. 
 These articles being spread on the lawn, 
 served as provocatives to thirst, which they 
 had the means of assuaging from a leathern 
 bottle, that each carried ; and which was 
 freely handed to Sancho, who at that moment 
 completely forgot all the circumstances of his 
 government ; for care holds but little juris- 
 diction over the seasons of eating and drink- 
 ing. 
 
 T 2 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE STORY OF MORISCO RICOTE, WITH SANCHO PANZA's 
 RESCUE FROM A CAVERN BY HIS MASTER DON 
 QUIXOTE. 
 
 RICOTE'S party, when the banquet was over, 
 taking to their repose, Ricote himself with 
 Sancho retired apart to communicate their 
 respective adventures; and Ricote commenc- 
 ing, said ; 
 
 " Thou well knowest, my good friend, 
 how rigorous was the proclamation against 
 us Moors; and as to myself, (not expecting, 
 as many did, that it would not be enforced) 
 I set out to reconnoitre, where I could most 
 securely place my family. Sorrowful I left 
 the town, for we all dreaded our exile, and 
 were well aware of the truth of the saying, 
 ' ffweetjs^ the lovejoLnative land ;' and no 
 such clime as Spain was to be expected in 
 
t)ON QUIXOTE. 277 
 
 Barbary, or other treatment than our unfor- 
 tunate race experienced from those, who were . 
 
 to be considered as our ancestors. 
 
 " I, for my own part, first repaired to 
 France, then to Italy, and afterwards passed 
 into Germany, where people seemed to live 
 with more freedom than in other places : 
 there I chose my asylum, and in a village near 
 Augsburgh took a house ; then availing my- 
 self of an opportunity towards settling my 
 affairs in Spain, I joined a troop of pilgrims 
 who annually make a peregrination there, 
 under pretence of visiting the sanctuaries ; 
 but in reality for the purpose of traffic and 
 other clandestine views. Beiug now arrived 
 in Spain, my immediate object is to carry off 
 the treasure I left concealed ; and then to 
 take measures for transporting my wife and 
 daughter through France to Augsburgh." 
 
 " What then," said Sancho, "do you not 
 know that your wife and daughter, being 
 under the necessity of removing at a short 
 notice, went with your brother-in-law to Al- 
 giers r" " What could carry them there," re- 
 joined the other, " instead of stopping in a 
 
278 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 bordering Christian country ?" " Why,*' said 
 Sancho, " when it is considered that your 
 wife's brother John Tropiezo is a rank Moor, 
 lie would naturally take them where he in- 
 tended making his own abode ; and I should 
 apprehend it is a fruitless search of yours to 
 go after your treasure, for it was reported, that 
 a very considerable property was taken from 
 them when they departed." 
 
 " They were not possessed, my good friend," 
 replied Ricote, " of the secret of my con- 
 cealed treasure ; and if you will assist in tak- 
 ing it up, you shall receive a portion of it." 
 
 " I might comply with your proposal," re- 
 joined Sancho, " were I covetously inclined ; 
 but such a disposition is not my turn, or it 
 might have been gratified by the late office I 
 held." " What office have you then quitted ?" 
 resumed the other. " No less a one/' re- 
 plied Sancho, " than the government of an 
 island." 
 
 " Andjvj^^ " did you 
 
 derive from it .?" " I have acquired sense 
 enough," rejoined Sancho, " to know that I 
 am fit for no other station than managing a 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 27J> 
 
 flock of sheep, or to drive a herd of cattle ; 
 and that the Wealth got in governments,^ 
 attainable only at the expence of ease, sleep, 
 and even sustenance." " I really do not 
 understand thee," said Ricote, " for who 
 would give thee a government, when there 
 are so many in the world more capable of 
 holding such a station ? However, let this be 
 as it will, give me your answer whether you 
 will assist me or not, with respect to my 
 treasure." 
 
 " 1 tell you frankly," replied Sancho, " I 
 will not interfere with any thing contrary to 
 the king's ordinances. Be assured that I will 
 not betray you ; therefore continue your 
 journey in a happy hour, and let me proceed 
 with mine." 
 
 " Nevertheless, before we part," resumed 
 Ricote, " let me hear what happened when 
 my wife and daughter quitted the village." 
 * f Thy daughter's beauty and tears," an- 
 swered Sancho, " made a great impression on 
 every one ; but he that was most passionately 
 affected, was Don Pedro Gregorio, the young 
 rich heir, who was never seen in the village 
 
280 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 after the departure of your daughter/' " I 
 had always an idea," said Ricote, " that the 
 young gentleman was enamoured of my 
 daughter, but it gave me no disturbance as I 
 confided in her virtue. It is however now 
 time to close our conference, as I see my 
 companions are stirring." 
 
 The two friends then separated and went 
 different ways. But Sancho, having been 
 detained so long by Ricote, was overtaken by 
 the night before he could reach the; Duke's 
 castle; and retiring out of the main road to 
 wait for morning, he fell with Dapple into a 
 deep pit, and when morning disclosed his si- 
 tuation, he found himself bewildered amongst 
 a number of dreary caverns that but dimly 
 received the light of day. 
 
 Here then he remained in a manner im- 
 mured ; venting woeful lamentations at his 
 hard fate, in being, as he apprehended, thus 
 doomed to be buried alive. It however so 
 happened, that his master Don Quixote, that 
 very morning had issued from the duke's 
 castle at an early hour to exercise himself 
 and his horse in the manoeuvres of the field ; 
 
DON QUIXOTE, 281 
 
 and in wheeling about to give full scope to 
 Rozinante's charge, had nearly plunged into 
 the cavern where Sancho lay ingulphed ; then 
 turning round to survey the danger he had 
 escaped, a voice seemed to issue from the 
 cavity that he recognized to be Sancho's ; 
 but supposing it must have been assumed by 
 some spirit of the dead, he began in solemn 
 terms to exorcise it. In the mean time, San- 
 cho reiterating his cries, Don Quixote ad- 
 dressed him, as an inhabitant of the nether 
 world. Sancho, however, urgently repre- 
 sented, that he w r as his identical Sancho 
 Panza, and that he had never been dead, but 
 having quitted his government for causes he 
 would hereafter explain, had the last night 
 fallen into the cavern on his way to the castle. 
 Don Quixote being at length convinced of 
 the reality of the affair, returned to the castle ; 
 and with the assistance of men and ropes, had 
 Sancho and his companion Dapple hawled 
 up, again to enjoy the cheerful light of day. 
 " In this manner," said one of the by-stanclers, 
 " should all bad governors be dragged from 
 their governments, like this poor wretch from 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 the profound abyss ; pale and half-dead with 
 fright." 
 
 Sancho to this, replied, " Eight days have 
 now elapsed since I assumed the reins of 
 government ; and in all that time have nei- 
 ther enjoyed ease, quiet, nor plenty ; and this 
 being the case, I deserve not this severity of 
 remark." 
 
 " Be not concerned," said his master, " at 
 what has been uttered ; it is as impracticable 
 to tie up the tongue of malice, as to erect 
 barricadoes in the open fields. Console thy- 
 self with a good conscience, and let evil 
 tongues have their scope." 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 DON QUIXOTE AND SANCHO PANZA DEPART FROM THE 
 CASTLE AND MEET WITH FURTHER ADVENTURES. 
 
 SANCHO PANZA, having been extricated from 
 his late disaster by the timely aid of his mas- 
 ter Don Quixote, now repaired to the presence 
 of the duke and duchess, and rendered to 
 them a full account of his transactions as their 
 governor; of which, however, they had had 
 the particulars from time to time, from their 
 steward, together with the ludicrous events 
 that followed. 
 
 As soon as he had a little recovered from 
 his fatigue and fright, and after abundant 
 apologies for abandoning the situation that 
 had been conferred upon him, his master and 
 himself (having afforded not a little amuse- 
 ment to the duke and duchess) departed from 
 the castle in rather an evil hour ; for as the 
 
284 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 knight proceeded on the road with Sancho 
 at his heels, musing on every tiling but what 
 was before his eyes ; he did not notice a body 
 of men in a cloud of dust hurrying along in a 
 cluster, who all at once hollaed out, 
 
 " Get out of the way, sons of Beelzebub, 
 or the bulls will trample ye to death." 
 
 Don Quixote had little time to answer or 
 retreat; for in a trice the wild bulls, drivers 
 and all, overturned the knight and his steed, 
 Sancho and Dapple, and passed over their 
 bodies, without stopping their course, towards 
 the place where the bulls were to be baited. 
 
 All the knight's exclamations availed no- 
 thing; the drovers who had charge of the 
 bulls, neither slackened their pace, nor minded 
 Don Quixote's threats of vengeance ; so that 
 our knight was fain to put up with the affront, 
 and repair to a stream hard by for refresh- 
 ment after the disaster. 
 
 Whilst sitting on its cool margin, Sancho 
 opened his wallet, and took some pains to 
 persuade his master to partake, whose vexa- 
 tion damped all desire for food. " As for me, 
 my good master," said Sancho, " whatever 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 285 
 
 may be the crosses of life, I am resolved not 
 to starve if I can help it ; and, as the eord- 
 wainer stretches the leather with his teeth till 
 it answers his purpose ; so will I employ my 
 teeth, in stretching out my life with eating, 
 so long as heaven permits. 
 
 " Be advised, therefore, Master, to repair 
 the waste of nature, and take a little suste- 
 nance on the green couch of this delightful 
 bank/' 
 
 Don Quixote suffered himself to be per- 
 suaded by Sancho's reasoning and example : 
 and whilst they were thus refreshing them- 
 selves, their ears were on a sudden struck 
 with the tinkling noise of a bell, and soon 
 after sprung forward from a neighbouring 
 thicket a beautiful speckled goat, followed 
 by a man in the garb of a goatherd. 
 
 The fugitive goat seemed to implore pro- 
 tection, whilst her keeper, seizing her by the 
 horns, accosted her in these words ; " Ah ! 
 What a ramble you have led me, you spotted 
 wanton. The wolves some day will feast 
 upon you, if you thus wander from the secu- 
 rity of your fold and your guardian." The 
 
286 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 goatherd, being invited to rest himself and 
 partake of their fare, addressed them in these 
 words ; " Be not surprised at the singularity 
 of my addressing this animal as if it were 
 endowed with reason, for there is a mystery 
 concealed beneath the words I have uttered. 
 I am a resident of the country it is true, but 
 not so much a rustic, but that I know how to 
 speak to men as well as beasts." 
 
 " I can easily believe what you say," re- 
 plied Don Quixote, " for I have heard, and 
 indeed know from experience, that philosophy 
 is to be met with in the shepherd's cot." 
 " At least/' resumed the goatherd, " the cot- 
 tage may contain those that are warned by 
 woeful experience ; as may be proved by the 
 recital of what has lately happened in my 
 place of abode. A short distance from this 
 valley 3tands a village, wherein dwelt a 
 farmer, who, though wealthy, yet was more 
 respected for his virtue than his riches ; and, 
 over and above these advantages, possessed a 
 daughter of singular beauty. 
 
 " The father's wealth and the daughter's 
 charms induced many to demand her in mar- 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 287 
 
 riage : amongst the crowd of her admirers I 
 was one who conceived hopes of success from 
 standing well in her father's esteem : together 
 with myself, another suitor came forward of 
 equal pretensions, by jiame_Anselmo v as mine 
 is Eugenio. __j 
 
 " At the very time of this struggle to win 
 the affections of the fair one (whose name is 
 Leandra) a peasant's son, named Vincent de 
 la Rosa, came to the village ; who, when a 
 boy, had been carried off by a recruiting 
 party, under whose auspices he had acquired 
 a propensity to gallantry and vice. 
 
 " In the garb and tinsel of a soldier's dress, 
 and possessing great volubility of tongue and 
 a smattering of music, he did not long pass 
 unnoticed by Leandra ; who from the win- 
 dow of her apartment that looked on the 
 market-place (which was the theatre of dis- 
 play of this spark's accomplishments) had an 
 opportunity of observing him ; and, to the 
 general surprize, fell so desperately in love 
 with him, as at his suggestion to abandon her 
 father's house, carrying away her jewels, and 
 all the valuables she could collect. After a 
 
288 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 long search, the ill-fated girl was found in 
 the most miserable plight, with scarcely a 
 rag on her back ; and thus abandoned to all 
 the horrors of poverty and remorse by her 
 seducer, who had made his escape with her 
 property. Leandra, having by this step 
 shortened her father's days, has been con- 
 ducted to a convent : and Anselmo and my- 
 self are left with no other consolation, than 
 to inveigh against the levity of the female 
 sex, and their want of judgment in bestowing 
 their affections." 
 
 The goatherd, having finished his narra- 
 tive, retired; and before Don Quixote and 
 Sancho had made much further progress on 
 the road, they found themselves benighted in 
 a wood of oak and cork trees. Alighting, 
 they led their beasts along, when Sancho felt 
 something bob against his head ; and putting 
 up his hand, found two legs provided with 
 shoes and stockings : trembling with affright, 
 he moved on, and met with a similar saluta- 
 tion ; which so increased his terror, that he 
 roared aloud to his master for assistance. 
 
 Don Quixote quickly comprehended that 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 289 
 
 it must be the bodies of outlaws and robbers 
 that were thus suspended ; and in this situa- 
 tion the night was passed, to the great dis- 
 quiet of Sancho, who, contrary to custom, 
 had no great inclination to sleep under such 
 a canopy. 
 
 U 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 DON QUIXOTE AND SANCHO FALL INTO THE HANDS OF 
 A BAND OF ROBBERS THEIR RELEASE, AND ARRIVAL 
 AT BARCELONA. 
 
 WHEN morn ushered in the day, if Sancho 
 was scared in the over-night by the dead, he 
 was no less aghast, when he and his master 
 found themselves surrounded by a troop of 
 living banditti. 
 
 Don Quixote being on foot, and surprized 
 in this sudden manner, suffered himself, with- 
 out resistance, to be conducted to the leader 
 of the band ; whilst Sancho had the mortifi- 
 cation of seeing Dapple's pannel-bags stripped 
 of their contents, and his own habiliments' in 
 custody. The leader, however, ordered his 
 people to desist, and observing the despon- 
 dency of the knight, and wondering at his 
 
DON QJtJlXOTE. 291 
 
 carrying a lance and shield, was curious lo 
 know who his captive was ; when informed, 
 he said in soothing accents ; 
 
 " Be not dejected, valiant knight, you have 
 not fallen into brutal hands ; Roque Guimart 
 has more compassion than cruelty in his dis- 
 position. Perhaps by stumbling in my way, 
 something more favourable than you are 
 aware of may result. My connections in 
 Barcelona are respectable, and if your pur- 
 suits lie in that quarter, I have the means of 
 assisting you." 
 
 By this time one of the band arrived with 
 intelligence, that there was a party of tra- 
 vellers on the road to Barcelona. The troop 
 was in consequence sent off, with orders to 
 bring the whole company to the head- 
 quarters. 
 
 When they were gone, Roque addressed 
 himself again to Don Quixote, saying, " This 
 life of ours, replete with danger, and exposed 
 as it is to accidents, must appear strange to 
 be adopted ; but I was misled by a desire of 
 revenge, which is powerful enough to overset 
 the most philosophical breast. Nevertheless 
 
 u 2 
 
292 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 I indulge the hope of extricating myself from 
 this labyrinth of disquiet, as soon as time has 
 a little assuaged the violence of my enemy's 
 resentment." 
 
 Don Quixote did not fail to avail himself 
 of the opportunity of recommending to Ro- 
 que Guimart the advantages of adopting his 
 course of life, as expiatory of all transgres- 
 sions. 
 
 Whilst enhancing the merit of such a trans- 
 formation of character, Roque's party arrived 
 with their prisoners, consisting of two gentle- 
 men on horseback, some pilgrims on foot, and 
 a carriage full of women, with their atten- 
 dants and muleteers. Roque first interrogated 
 the horsemen, as to their situation and the 
 state of their finances. They informed him 
 that, they were Spanish officers going to join 
 their regiments, with a few hundred crowns 
 to defray their expences. 
 
 The pilgrims said, they were going to the 
 shrines of devotion in Italy, and had little 
 money in their purses. And the party in the 
 coach, described themselves as being part of 
 a family of rank at Naples, where they were 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 293 
 
 going ; and that they had about seven hun- 
 dred crowns to pay their expences. 
 
 Roque then took threescore crowns from 
 the gentlemen, and double that sum from the 
 party in the coach, and then dismissed the 
 whole company, with a safe conduct in writ- 
 ing, in case of their meeting with any other 
 division of his troop. 
 
 One of Roque's band, displeased with this 
 lenient proceeding of his chief, said to ano- 
 ther ; " This captain of ours is more fitted for 
 preaching than preying ; if he has a mind to 
 shew his generosity, let it be from his own 
 purse, and not from what is ours by right of 
 conquest." 
 
 This speech being overheard by Roque, 
 his sword was at the same moment un- 
 sheathed, and he exclaimed ; " Thus I chas- 
 tise mutiny and presumption." But Don 
 Quixote had time to arrest the blow, and suc- 
 ceeded in obtaining the wretch's pardon, 
 whose terror operated sufficiently to overawe 
 the rest of the gang. Three days and nights 
 did Don Quixote remain with Roque ; and, 
 had he staid as many years, he would not 
 
294 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 have wanted subject for admiration at their 
 manner of life. They slept under arms with 
 their clothes on ; and even that sort of slum- 
 bering rest was interrupted by the frequent 
 necessity of changing the guard, and blowing 
 the fusee for their matchlocks, in order to 
 guard against surprise, and to be ready for 
 assault. 
 
 As for Roque, he passed the night alone in 
 private haunts, unknown to his comrades ; 
 for the viceroy of Barcelona having set a 
 price upon his head, he did not dare trust 
 himself to his followers. 
 
 At length, a little before break of day, Don 
 Quixote was escorted by Roque in person, 
 within a short distance of Barcelona ; and 
 received from him letters of introduction to 
 his connexions in that city. As the day 
 broke, Aurora disclosed her rosy face through 
 the balconies of the east, and an object ex- 
 tended itself to view, which neither Don 
 Quixote nor Sancho had ever before seen. 
 This was the mighty ocean, covered with 
 vessels, displaying their pendants, flags and 
 streamers; and, it being St. John's day, 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 295 
 
 which is solemnized by the Barcelonians with 
 great rejoicings, the sound of artillery conti- 
 nually reverberated from the ships and bat- 
 teries. As for Sancho, the movement of the 
 vessels in mock engagement with each other, 
 caused his great astonishment ; as being, in 
 his idea, a sort of animals beyond the power 
 of his conception. 
 
 The cavaliers of the town, parading with 
 their fine horses and richly dressed attendants, 
 now approached the strand ; and one amongst 
 them replied to Don Quixote's inquiry after 
 Roque Guimart's friends, by saying, " Signior 
 Don Quixote, have the goodness to accom- 
 pany us, who are all intimate friends and 
 humble servants to Roque Guimart." 
 
 To his invitation the knight returned this 
 answer; " If courtesy engenders courtesy, 
 yours, Signior Cavalier, is nearly allied to 
 what I experienced from the gallant Roque : 
 conduct me whither you please ; my will is 
 conformable to yours ; and I should be glad 
 if you would employ it in yours or your 
 friend's service." 
 
 The particular intimate of Roque Guimart 
 
296 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 was called Don Antonio Moreno ; and .to 
 this gentleman's house Don Quixote was con- 
 ducted : here he was introduced to the assem- 
 bled company, and walked about the bal- 
 cony in view of the curious populace, who 
 soon got intelligence of the arrival of Don 
 Moreno's guest 
 
 Sancho was delighted with the pomp and 
 splendour that reigned in the house ; which 
 renewed in his imagination, the good fare he 
 had enjoyed at the wedding feast of Cama- 
 cho, the hospitality of Don Diego de Mi- 
 randa, and the magnificence of the duke's 
 palace. 
 
 In the evening a ball was proposed, and a 
 large company invited, amongst whom were 
 some sprightly ladies, who insisted upon tak- 
 ing out Don Quixote. In their hands he 
 suffered such fatigue, that he was fain at last 
 to sit himself down on the floor, entirely 
 exhausted with the exercise he had under- 
 gone. Sancho, in taking him up to conduct 
 him to his chamber, could not refrain from 
 saying, " What could tempt your Worship 
 to fall a capering? Did you suppose that 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 297 
 
 every hero must be a harlequin ? I can tell 
 you that there are men in the world, who 
 would rather undertake to slay a giant, that 
 take a lady in hand to cut a caper with." 
 
 This address of Sancho caused no little 
 diversion to the company, who now assigned 
 the knight over to the safe conduct of his 
 squire. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 DON QUIXOTE AND SANCHO VISIT THE GALLIES AT 
 BARCELONA SEQUEL OF MORISCO RICOTE ? S STORY. 
 
 THE following day, Don Antonio took his 
 guest together with Sancho, on board the 
 gallies ; the commodore of which was his 
 particular friend. The visitors were received 
 with every attention, music playing and artil- 
 lery firing ; and when Don Quixote ascended 
 the accommodation ladder, he was saluted by 
 the crew with three cheers ; a compliment 
 only paid to persons of distinction. 
 
 The whole company having placed them- 
 selves on the poop, the boatswain repaired to 
 the gangway, and making a signal with his 
 whistle, all the slaves at the oar stripped ; 
 to the great discomposure of Sancho at the 
 sight of so many naked backs. 
 
 Nor was his agitation lessened, when he 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 299 
 
 saw the awning stretched with incredible dis- 
 patch: but when the anchor was weighed, 
 and the main-yard with the noise of a thun- 
 derclap hoisted, he was in an agony: nor 
 was his master devoid of some symptoms of 
 apprehension. The boatswain, now leaping 
 amidst the rowers, began to ply his cat-o'- 
 nine-tails upon their backs, and the galley by 
 little and little stood out to sea. Sancho, 
 beholding such a large body moved by so 
 many painted feet, (for such he took the oars 
 to be) said to his master ; " This is indeed 
 enchantment ! But what have these wretches 
 done to be scourged in this manner? and 
 how does that single man, skipping up and 
 down, piping and whistling, dare to whip and 
 flog so many people ? In my conscience, I 
 believe that this is purgatory itself." Don 
 Quixote was about to reply, when a signal 
 from the fort brought the commodore to the 
 gangway, who ordered the crew to pull 
 away, as a corsair brigantine was discovered 
 in the offing ; and at the same time ordered 
 the other gallies to divide, in order to prevent 
 its escape. 
 
300 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 The corsair in vain attempted by its fleet- 
 ness to evade the pursuit ; and, finding all 
 chance of escape at an end, hawled down its 
 flag and surrendered : but unfortunately, as 
 the commodore's galley came up, two drunken 
 Turks belonging to the brigantine, discharged 
 their pieces and wounded some of the soldiers 
 in the galley. 
 
 The commodore, incensed at this conduct, 
 A.- 
 
 run along-side of the corsair, and took pos- 
 session of her, with full intention of having 
 the whole company put to death as soon as 
 he arrived in the harbour ; where a great 
 concourse of people had collected to learn 
 the result of the chase. 
 
 As soon as he had dropped anchor, the 
 yard was ordered to be lowered down for the 
 convenience of hanging the prisoners ; and 
 the captain of the brigantine, a most beautiful 
 youth, ^vas first brought forward. 
 
 " 111 advised youth/' said the commodore, 
 " what induced thee to fire at my soldiers, 
 when thou m|isj; have perceived that it was 
 impossible to escape ? Dost thou not know 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 301 
 
 that rashness is not valour, and that despera- 
 tion can only aggravate the offence ?" 
 
 The Moor was just about to reply, when 
 the viceroy came on board ; and seeing such 
 a beautiful youth with his hands tied, and a 
 rope about his neck, was seized with a desire 
 to save his life ; and approaching him, said, 
 " Corsair, art thou a Turk or a renegado ?" 
 u I am neither/* replied the prisoner, " but a 
 Christian woman ; and if you please to sus- 
 pend my execution, I will recount my his- 
 tory." 
 
 The commodore, at the viceroy's interces- 
 sion, acquiesced in the delay, and the pri- 
 soner spoke as follows ; 
 
 " I was born of that nation, that was lately 
 banished from Spain : my parents, in short, 
 were by descent Moors; and though they 
 had embraced the Christian religion, were 
 obliged to abide by the fate of their country- 
 men. I had been committed to the care of 
 an uncle, who carried me with my mother to 
 Algiers in Barbary. 
 
 "As to my father, on the first intelligence 
 of our intended expulsion, he had been tak- 
 
302 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 ing measures for an asylum, and was not 
 present at my sudden removal. It had been 
 my fate to attract the attention of a young 
 cavalier of large estate, named {Joa-Gasper 
 Gregorio. He resolved to share my exile, 
 and speaking the Moorish language well, 
 ingratiated himself with my uncle, and tra- 
 velled with us. At Algiers we underwent 
 many interrogations as to the wealth of my 
 family; for cruelly as we were treated in 
 Spain, in Barbary we experienced still greater 
 injustice. 
 
 " It being dangerous to conceal the truth, 
 and moreover conceiving a door might be 
 opened for a return to Spain, I gave informa- 
 tion, that both money and jewels to a large 
 amount, were secreted in the village where 
 we had dwelt ; and that by the aid of a con- 
 fidential person, the property might be with- 
 drawn. The Dey was agreeable that we 
 females, under charge of a renegado, should 
 return for this purpose, my uncle remaining 
 as a hostage ; he also was a Moor, and could 
 have little difficulty in pacifying the Dey, as 
 being alike deceived with himself. 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 303 
 
 " A brigantine being fitted up, and some 
 Turkish soldiers put on board, instead of 
 landing us as they were ordered, they stood 
 off the coast, for the purpose of making 
 prizes, and were the people that discharged 
 their pieces when hailed by the galley." 
 
 The viceroy, at the close of the narrative, 
 advanced, and with his own hands took the 
 rope from her neck ; and the disguised Don 
 Gregorio together with her mother were 
 called forward and liberated. 
 
 Whilst the Christian Moor related her 
 story, a pilgrim, who had followed the viceroy 
 on board the galley, and had kept his eyes 
 attentively fixed upon her, at this juncture 
 exclaimed ; 
 
 " O Anna Felix, I am thy father Ricote, 
 who have been wandering through Spain, in 
 search of thee and my wife." Being recog- 
 nized by his daughter, he then addressed the 
 viceroy and commodore, saying, " My lords, 
 I left my country according to the ordinances 
 of the state ; and having obtained an asylum 
 in Germany, returned as a pilgrim to recover 
 my family and wealth. My wife and daugh- 
 
304 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 ter I found were gone, but my hoard is as I 
 left it ; and now, by this strange vicissitude, 
 I have retrieved that treasure, which was the 
 chief object of my solicitude." 
 
 All present expressed their admiration at 
 the strangeness of the incidents ; and San- 
 cho, from what had passed between him and 
 Ricote, was enabled further to corroborate 
 the truth of the recital. The viceroy then 
 took his leave, and the commodore, with his 
 party, repaired to Don Antonio's house, where 
 the pilgrim Ricote and his daughter's compa- 
 nions received a welcome reception. 
 
CHAPTER XVJ. 
 
 DON QUIXOTE'S DISCOMFITURE BY THE KNIGHT OF 
 THE MOON 1IIS RETURN HOME AND DEATH. 
 
 AFTER receiving for some days the most hos- 
 pitable attention at Don Moreno's house, in 
 which not only the inmates, but the popu- 
 lace of Barcelona had an ample fund of 
 merriment from the deportment of both mas- 
 ter and man, Don Quixote prepared to quit 
 the place, and retrace his steps back towards 
 Saragossa. 
 
 When one morning sallying forth accou- 
 tred as usual, he beheld a knight, armed 
 cap-a-pee, prancing along with a full moon 
 on his shield, painted in the most beautiful 
 manner. 
 
 This apparition had no sooner approached, 
 than he accosted Don Quixote, saying, 
 X 
 
306 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 " Renowned cavalier, I am the knight of 
 the moon, and come, with hostile intent, to 
 prove the force of thy arm, under the circum- 
 stance of thy declining to acknowledge that 
 my mistress exceeds in beauty thy Dulcinea 
 del Toboso ; and in the event of thy putting 
 me to the trouble of enforcing it, I shall, if 
 successful, require of thee to lay aside thy 
 arms, and retire for twelve months to thy own 
 habitation : on the other hand, if I am van- 
 quished, the spoils of my arms and fame of 
 my achievments are to be transferred to 
 thee." 
 
 Don Quixote, however astonished at the 
 arrogance of the knight of the moon, desired 
 him without delay to take his ground, as he 
 was ready to assert the superiority of his 
 mispress Dulcinea del Toboso, in point of 
 beauty and excellence, to any that existed in 
 the world. Whilst the parley was going on, 
 the cavaliers on the strand collected around 
 to view the conflict ; and Don Quixote tak- 
 ing a great length of ground approached his 
 adversary ; who, having a stronger and fleeter 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 307 
 
 horse, met him in the midst of his career 
 with such a shock, as brought Rozinante and 
 his master to the ground. Then, as Don 
 Quixote lay prostrate in a disabled state, the 
 victor, presenting his lance to his throat, de- 
 manded of him his compliance with the 
 terms of the challenge ; and the battered 
 knight, with the reserve of any declaration 
 derogatory to his Dulcinea's honour, sub- 
 mitted to his hard fate, by relinquishing his 
 pursuits in the field of chivalry for the term 
 prescribed. 
 
 The victor (who was no other than the 
 bachelor Sampson Carrasco) as soon as he 
 had extricated himself from the crowd, found 
 an opportunity of explaining particulars to 
 the patrons of Don Quixote, and related to 
 them in what manner he had failed in his 
 first attempt to turn him from his folly, 
 and, that having now succeeded in his 
 project, the knight's friends would have the 
 means of another trial to cure him of his 
 malady. 
 
 Sancho Panza, on beholding the result of 
 x 2 
 
308 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 this fatal encounter, perceived all his hopes 
 to vanish as smoke before the wind ; and 
 Don Quixote's chagrin determined him in- 
 stantly to quit the scene of his disgrace. 
 
 In this disconsolate state, they pursued 
 their course towards their own village, and 
 on their arrival there, were greeted by the 
 curate and barber, who had been apprized 
 by the bachelor Sampson Carrasco of the 
 success of his undertaking. 
 
 Don Quixote alighting, embraced them 
 with great cordiality and proceeded home, 
 where he was joyfully received by his niece 
 and housekeeper ; he then briefly related his 
 overthrow by the knight of the moon, and 
 the obligation he was under to give up his 
 pursuits for one year ; a penance he in- 
 tended rigidly to observe like a true knight- 
 errant. 
 
 However, as nothing human is stable, but 
 every sublunary object, especially the life of 
 man, verges to decay ; so as Don Quixote 
 had no particular privilege to exempt him 
 from the common fate of mankind, the end 
 
DON QUIXOTE. 309 
 
 and period of his existence approached, and 
 he was seized with a violent disorder. 
 
 His friends supposed (as indeed was very 
 evident from his subsequent behaviour) that 
 chagrin at his last overthrow might be a 
 principal cause of this attack, and they there- 
 fore endeavoured to keep up his spirits by the 
 hope of brighter days in future : but these 
 attempts to console him did not dispel the 
 melancholy that assailed him, so that in a 
 few days his disorder came to a crisis. 
 
 Before, however, it deprived him of his life, 
 it cleared the phantoms of imagination that 
 enveloped his understanding. 
 
 Calling his friends and family about him, 
 he acknowledged the delusion he had lain ous^ 
 under through the study of books of chi- 
 valry. 
 
 The curate and barber, surprised at this 
 discourse, and considering this sudden and 
 easy transition from madness to sanity, as a 
 sure presage of death, prepared the by- 
 standers for such an event ; and Don Quix- 
 ote, having settled his will, and taken his last 
 
310 DON QUIXOTE. 
 
 farewell of those around him, fell into fainting 
 fits that rapidly succeeded each other, till 
 death at length closed the career of the sub- 
 ject of our history. 
 
 THE EtfD. 
 
 Printed by R. Gilbert, St. John's-square, London. 
 


 
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