Gavilan College celebrates 400 years of Don Quijote

Don Quixote de la Mancha, translated by Charles Jarvis

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The Life and Exploits
of the Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote de la Mancha

By Miguel de Cervantes, Translated by Charles Jarvis, Esq.

The First Part

CHAPTER XXX: Which treats of the pleasant and ingenious Method of drawing our enamoured Knight from the very rigorous Penance he had imposed on himself.


Scarcely had the priest done speaking, when Sancho said: "By my troth, Signor Licentiate, it was my master who did this feat; not but that I gave him fair warning, and advised him to beware what he did, and said it was a sin to set them at liberty, for that they were all going to the galleys for being most notorious villains." "Blockhead, "said Don Quixote, "knights-errant have nothing to do, nor does it concern them to inquire, whether the afflicted, enchained, and oppressed, whom they meet upon the road, are reduced to those circumstances or that distress by their faults or their misfortunes; they are bound to assist them merely as being in distress, and to regard their sufferings alone, and not their crimes. I lighted on a bead-roll and string of miserable wretches, and did by them what my profession requires of me, and for the rest I care not: and whoever takes it amiss, saving the holy dignity of Signor the Licentiate, and his honourable person, I say, he knows little of the principles of chivalry, and lies like a base-born son of a whore; and this I will make good with my sword in the most ample manner." This he said, setting himself in his stirrups, and clapping down the vizor of his helmet; for the barber's basin, which in his account was Mambrino's helmet, hung at his saddlebow until it could be repaired of the damages it had received from the galley-slaves.

Dorothea, who was of a witty and pleasant disposition, already perceiving Don Quixote's frenzy, and that everybody except Sancho Panza made a jest of him, resolved not to be behind-hand with the rest; and seeing him in such a heat, said to him: "Sir knight, be pleased to remember the boon you have promised me, and that you are thereby engaged not to intermeddle in any other adventure, be it ever so urgent; therefore assuage your wrath; for if Signor the Licentiate had known that the galley-slaves were freed by that invincible arm, he would sooner have sewed up his mouth with three stitches, and thrice have bit his tongue, than he would have said a word that might redound to the disparagement of your worship." "I would so, I swear," said the priest, "and even sooner have pulled off a mustachio." "I will say no more, Madam," said Don Quixote; "and I will repress that just indignation raised in my breast, and will go on peaceably and quietly, until I have accomplished for you the promised boon. But, in requital of this good intention, I beseech you to tell me, if it be not too much trouble, what is your grievance, and who, how many, and of what sort are the persons on whom I must take due, satisfactory, and complete revenge." "That I will do with all my heart," answered Dorothea, "if it will not prove tedious and irksome to you to hear nothing but afflictions and misfortunes." "Not at all, dear Madam," answered Don Quixote. To which Dorothea replied: "Since it is so, pray favour me with your attention." She had no sooner said this, but Cardenio and the barber placed themselves on each side of her, to hear what kind of story the ingenious Dorothea would invent. The same did Sancho, who was as much deceived about her as his master. And she, after settling herself well in -[158]- her saddle, with a hem or two, and the like preparatory airs, began with much good humour in the manner following:

"In the first place, you must know, gentlemen, that my name is " here she stopped short, having forgotten the name the priest had given her: but he presently helped her out; for he knew what she stopped at, and said, "It is no wonder, Madam, that your grandeur should be disturbed and in some confusion, at recounting your misfortunes; for they are often of such a nature, as to deprive us of our memory, and make us forget our very names; as they have now done by your high ladyship, who have forgotten that you are called the Princess Micomicona, rightful heiress of the great kingdom of Micomicon; and with this intimation your grandeur may easily bring back to your doleful remembrance whatever you have a mind to relate." "You are in the right," answered Dorothea, "and henceforward I believe it will be needless to give me any more hints; for I shall be able to conduct my true history to a conclusion without them.

"My father, who was called Tinacrio the Wise, was very learned in what they call art magic, and knew by his science that my mother, who was called Queen Xamarilla, should die before him, and that he himself must soon after depart this life, and I be left an orphan, deprived both of father and mother. But this, he used to say, did not trouble him so much as the certain foreknowledge he had, that a monstrous giant, lord of a great island almost bordering upon our kingdom, called Pandafilando of the gloomy aspect; for it is averred, that though his eyes stand right and in their proper place, he always looks askew, as if he squinted; and this he does out of pure malignity to scare and frighten those he looks at: I say, he knew that this giant would take the advantage of my being an orphan, and invade my kingdom with a mighty force, and take it all from me, without leaving me the smallest village to hide my head in; but that it was in my power to avoid all this ruin and misfortune by marrying him: though as far as he could understand, he never believed I would hearken to so unequal a match; and in this he said the truth, for it never entered into my head to marry this giant, nor any other, though never so huge and unmeasurable. My father said also, that after his death, when I should find Pandafilando begin to invade my kingdom, he advised me not to stay to make any defence, for that would be my ruin; but, if I would avoid death, and prevent the total destruction of my faithful and loyal subjects, my best way was freely to leave the kingdom to him without opposition, since it would not be possible for me to defend myself against the hellish power of the giant, and immediately to set out with a few attendants for Spain, where I should find a remedy for my distress by meeting with a knight-errant, whose fame about that time should extend itself all over this kingdom, and whose name, if I remember right, was to be Don Azote, or Don Gigote." (76) "Don Quixote, you would say, Madam," quoth Sancho Panza, "or as others call him, the Knight of the Sorrowful Figure." "You are in the right," added Dorothea. "And he said farther, that he was to be tall and thin-visaged, and that on his right side, under the left shoulder, or thereabouts, he was to have a grey mole, with hair-like bristles."

Don Quixote hearing this, said to his squire: "Here, son Sancho, help me to strip: I would know whether I am the knight prophesied of by that wise king." "Why would you pull off your clothes, Sir?" said Dorothea. "To see whether I have the mole your father spoke of," answered Don -[159]- Quixote. "You need not strip," said Sancho: "i know you have a mole with those same marks on the ridge of your back, which is a sign of being a strong man." (77) "It is enough," said Dorothea; "for among friends we must not stand upon trifles; and whether it be on the shoulder or on the back-bone imports little: it is sufficient that there is a mole, let it be where it will, since it is all the same flesh; and doubtless my good father hit right in everything, and I have not aimed amiss in recommending myself to Signor Don Quixote; for he must be the knight of whom my father spoke, since the features of his face correspond exactly with the great fame he has acquired, not only in Spain, but in all La Mancha: for I was hardly landed in Ossuna, before I heard so many exploits of his recounted, that my mind immediately gave me, that he must be the very person I came to seek." "But, dear Madame, how came you to land at Ossuna," answered Don Quixote, "since it is no sea-port town?" (78) But before Dorothea could reply, the priest interposing, said: "Doubtless the princess meant to say, that after she had landed at Malaga, the first place where she heard news of your worship, was Ossuna." "That was my meaning," said Dorothea. "It is very likely," replied the priest; "please your majesty to proceed." "I have little more to add," replied Dorothea, "but that, having at last had the good fortune to meet with Signor Don Quixote, I already look upon myself as queen and mistress of my whole kingdom, since he, out of his courtesy and generosity has promised, in compliance with my request, to go with me wherever I please to carry him, which shall be only where he may have a sight of Pandafilando of the Gloomy Aspect, that he may slay him, and restore to me what is so unjustly usurped from me: for all this is to come about with the greatest ease, according to the prophecy of Tinacrio the Wise, my good father; who, moreover, left it written in letters Chaldean or Greek, for I cannot read them, that, if this knight of the prophecy, after he has cut off the giant's head, should have a mind to marry me, I should immediately submit to be his lawful wife, without any reply, and give him possession of my kingdom, together with my person." (79)

"What think you now, friend Sancho?" said Don Quixote, "do you not hear what passes? Did I not tell you so? See, whether we have not now a kingdom to command, and a queen to marry?" "I swear it is so," quoth Sancho, "and pox take him for a son of a whore, who will not marry as soon as Signor Pandafilando's weazen is cut. About it then; her majesty's a dainty bit; I wish all the fleas in my bed were no worse." And so saying, he cut a couple of capers, with signs of very great joy; and presently laying hold of the reins of Dorothea's mule, and making her stop, he fell down upon his knees before her, beseeching her to give him her hand to kiss, in token that he acknowledged her for his queen and mistress. Which of the by-standers could forbear laughing, to see the madness of the master, and the simplicity of the man? In short, Dorothea held out her hand to him, and promised to make him a great lord in her kingdom, when Heaven should be so propitious as to put her again in possession of it. Sancho returned her thanks in such expressions, as set the company again a-laughing.

"This, gentlemen," continued Dorothea, "is my history; it remains only to tell you, that of all the attendants I brought with me out of my kingdom, I have none left but this honest squire with the long beard; for the rest were all drowned in a violent storm, which overtook us in sight -[160]- of the port. He and I got ashore on a couple of planks, as it were by a miracle; and indeed the whole progress of my life is miracle and mystery, as you may have observed. And, if I have exceeded in anything, or not been so exact as I ought to have been, let it be imputed to what Signor the Licentiate said, at the beginning of my story, that continual and extraordinary troubles deprive the sufferers of their very memory." "I will preserve mine, oh high and worthy Lady," said Don Quixote, "under the greatest that can befall me in your service; and so I again confirm the promise I have made you, and I swear to bear you company to the end of the world, until I come to grapple with that fierce enemy of yours, whose proud head I intend, by the help of God, and of this my arm, to cut off, with the edge of this, I will not say good, sword; thanks to Gines de Passamonte, who carried off my own." This he muttered between his teeth, and went on saying: "And after having cut it off, and put you into peaceable possession of your dominions, it shall be left to your own will to dispose of your person as you shall think proper; since, while my memory is taken up, my will enthralled, and my understanding subjected, to her I say no more, it is impossible I should prevail upon myself so much as to think of marrying, though it were a phoenix."

What Don Quixote said last, about not marrying, was so displeasing to Sancho, that in a great fury he said, raising his voice, "I vow and swear, Signor Don Quixote, your worship cannot be in your right senses; how else is it possible you should scruple to marry so high a princess as this lady is? Think you fortune is to offer you, at every turn, such good luck as she now offers? Is my Lady Dulcinea more beautiful? No, indeed, not by half; nay, I could almost say, she is not worthy to tie this lady's shoe-string. I am like, indeed, to get the earldom I expect, if your worship stands fishing for mushrooms in the bottom of the sea! Marry, marry out of hand, in the devil's name, and take this kingdom that is ready to drop into your mouth; and when you are a king make me a marquis, or a lord lieutenant, and then the devil take all the rest if he will." Don Quixote, hearing such blasphemies against his Lady Dulcinea, could not bear it, and, lifting up his lance, without speaking a word to Sancho, or giving him the least warning, gave him two such blows, that he laid him flat on the ground; and had not Dorothea called out to him to hold his hand, doubtless he had killed him there upon the spot. "Thinkest thou," said he to him, after some pause, "pitiful scoundrel, that I am always to stand with my hands in my pockets, and that there is nothing to be done, but transgressing on thy side, and pardoning on mine? Never think it, excommunicated varlet; for so doubtless thou art, since thou hast dared to speak ill of the peerless Dulcinea. Knowest thou not, rustic, slave, beggar, that, were it not for the force she infuses into my arm, I should not have enough to kill a flea? Tell me, envenomed scoffer, who thinkest thou hast gained this kingdom, and cut off the head of this giant, and made thee a marquis, for all this I look upon as already done, but the valour of Dulcinea, employing my arm as the instrument of her exploits? she fights in me, and overcomes in me; and in her I live and breathe, and of her I hold my life and being. Oh, whoreson villain! what ingratitude! when thou seest thyself exalted from the dust of the earth to the title of a lord, to make so base a return for so great a benefit, as to speak contemptuously of the hand that raised thee!" Sancho was not so much hurt, but he heard all his master said to him; and, getting up pretty -[161]- nimbly, he ran behind Dorothea's palfry, and from thence said to his master: "Pray, Sir, tell me; if you are resolved not to marry this princess, it is plain the kingdom will not be yours, and then what favours will you be able to bestow on me? This is what I complain of. Marry her, Sir, once for all, now we have her, as it were, rained down upon us from Heaven, and afterwards you may converse with my Lady Dulcinea; for I think it is no new thing for kings to keep misses. As to the matter of beauty, I have nothing to say to that; for if I must speak the truth, I really think them both very well to pass, though I never saw the Lady Dulcinea." "How! never saw her, blasphemous traitor!" said Don Quixote; "have you not just brought me a message from her?" "I say, I did not see her so leisurely," said Sancho, "as to take particular notice of her beauty, and her features, piece by piece; but, take her altogether, she looks well enough." "Now I excuse you," said Don Quixote, "and pardon me the displeasure I have given you; for the first motions are not in our own power." "I have found it so," answered Sancho; "and so, in me, the desire of talking is always a first motion, and I cannot forbear uttering, for once at least, whatever comes to my tongue's end." "For all that," said Don Quixote, "take heed, Sancho, what it is you utter; for the pitcher that goes so often to the well I say no more." "Well then," answered Sancho, "God, who is in heaven, and sees all guiles, and shall be judge who does most harm, I, in not speaking well, or your worship in not doing so." "Let there be no more of this," said Dorothea; "run, Sancho, and kiss your master's hand, and ask him forgiveness; and henceforward go more warily to work with your praises and dispraises; and speak no ill of that Lady Toboso, whom I do not know any otherwise than as I am her humble servant; and put your trust in God, for there will not be wanting an estate for you to live upon like a prince." Sancho went hanging his head, and begged his master's hand, which he gave with great gravity; and when he had kissed it, Don Quixote gave Sancho his blessing, and told him he would have him get on a little before, for he had some questions to put to him, and wanted to talk with him about some matters of great consequence. Sancho did so; and when they had got a little before the rest, Don Quixote said: "Since your return I have had neither opportunity nor leisure to inquire after many particulars concerning the message you carried, and the answer you brought back; and now that fortune affords us time and leisure, do not deny me the satisfaction you may give me by such good news." "Ask me what questions you please, Sir," answered Sancho; "I warrant I shall get out as well as I got in. But I beseech your worship, dear Sir, not to be so very revengeful for the future." "Why do you press that, Sancho?" said Don Quixote. "Because," replied Sancho, "the blows you were pleased to bestow on me, even now, were rather on account of the quarrel the devil raised between us the other night, than for what I said against my Lady Dulcinea, whom I love and reverence like any relic, though she be not one, only as she belongs to your worship." "No more of these discourses, Sancho, on your life," said Don Quixote, "for they offend me; I forgave you before, and you know the common saying, a new sin a new penance."

While they were thus talking, they saw coming along the same road in which they were going, a man riding upon an ass; and when he came near he seemed to be a gipsy; but Sancho Panza, who wherever he saw an ass had his eyes and his soul fixed there, had scarce seen the man when he -[162]- knew him to be Gines de Passamonte, and by the clue of the gipsy, found the bottom of his ass: for it was really Dapple upon which Passamonte rode; who, that he might not be known, and that he might sell the ass the better, had put himself into the garb of a gipsy, whose language, as well as several others, he could speak as readily as if they were his own native tongues. Sancho saw and knew him; and scarcely had he seen and known him when he cried out to him aloud: "Ah, rogue Ginesillo! leave my darling, let go my life, rob me not of my repose, quit my ass, leave my delight; fly, whoreson, get you gone, thief! and relinquish what is not your own." There needed not so many words, nor so much railing; for at the first word, Gines nimbly dismounted, and taking to his heels, as if it had been a race, was gone in an instant and out of reach of them all. Sancho ran to his Dapple, and embracing him, said: "How hast thou done, my dearest Dapple, delight of my eyes, my sweet companion?" And then he kissed and caressed him as if he had been a human creature. The ass held his peace, and suffered himself to be kissed and caressed by Sancho, without answering him one word. They all came up, and wished him joy of the finding his Dapple; especially Don Quixote, who assured him that he did not, for all this, revoke the order for the three colts. Sancho thanked him heartily.

While this passed, the priest told Dorothea that she had performed her part very ingeniously, as well in the contrivance of the story, as in its brevity, and the resemblance it bore to the narration in books of chivalry. She said, she had often amused herself with reading such kind of books, but that she did not know the situation of provinces or of sea-ports, and therefore had said, at a venture, that she landed at Ossuna. "I found it was so," said the priest; "and therefore I immediately said what you heard, which set all to rights. But is it not strange to see how readily this unhappy gentleman believes all these inventions and lies, only because they resemble the style and manner of his foolish books?" "It is, indeed," said Cardenio; "and something so rare and unseen before, that I much question whether, if one had a mind to dress up a fiction like it, any genius could be found capable of succeeding in it." "There is another thing remarkable in it," said the priest, "which is, that setting aside the follies this honest gentleman utters in everything relating to his madness, he can discourse very sensibly upon other points, and seems to have a clear and settled judgment in all things; insomuch that, if you do not touch him upon the subject of chivalries, you would never suspect but that he had a sound understanding."

While the rest went on in this conversation, Don Quixote proceeded in his, and said to Sancho: "Friend Panza, let us forget what is past; and tell me now, all rancour and animosity apart, where, how, and when, did you find Dulcinea? What was she doing? What did you say to her? What answer did she return? How did she look when she read my letter? Who transcribed it for you? And tell me besides whatever else, in this case, is worth knowing, inquiring after, or being satisfied in; inform me of all, without adding or diminishing to give me pleasure, or curtailing aught to deprive me of any satisfaction." "Sir," answered Sancho, "if I must tell the truth, nobody transcribed the letter for me; for I carried no letter at all." "It is as you say," replied Don Quixote; "for I found the pocket-book I had written it in two days after your departure; which troubled me exceedingly, not knowing what you would do when you should find you -[163]- had no letter; and I still believed you would come back as soon as you should miss it." "So I should have done," answered Sancho, "had I not got it by heart, when your worship read it to me, and so perfectly, that I repeated it to a parish-clerk, who wrote it down as I dictated it, so exactly, that he said, though he had read many letters of excommunication, he had never seen or read so pretty a letter as that in all the days of his life." "And have you it still by heart, Sancho?" said Don Quixote. "No, Sir," answered Sancho; "for after I had delivered it, seeing it was to be of no farther use, I forgot it on purpose; and if I remember aught of it, it is that of high and subterrane, I mean sovereign Lady, and the conclusion, thine until death, the Knight of the Sorrowful Figure; and, between these two things, I put above three hundred souls and lives, and dear eyes."


Gavilan College celebrates 400 years of Don Quijote

Don Quixote de la Mancha, translated by Charles Jarvis

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