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 Second Part

CHAPTER LXXI: Of what befell Don Quixote with his Squire Sancho, in the way to his Village.


The vanquished and forlorn Don Quixote travelled along, exceedingly pensive on the one hand, and very joyful on the other. His defeat caused -[595]- his sadness, and his joy was occasioned by considering that the disenchantment of Dulcinea was likely to be effected by the virtue inherent in Sancho, of which he had just given a manifest proof in the resurrection of Altisidora; though he could not readily bring himself to believe, that the enamoured damsel was really dead. Sancho went on, not at at all pleased to find that Altisidora had not been as good as her word in giving him the smocks; and revolving it in his mind, he said to his master: "In truth, Sir, I am the most unfortunate physician that is to be met with in the world; in which there are doctors who kill the patient they have under cure, and yet are paid for their pains, which is no more than signing a little scroll of certain medicines, which the apothecary, not the doctor, makes up: while poor I, though another's cure cost me drops of blood, twitches, pinchings, pin-prickings, and lashes, get not a doit. But, I vow to God, if ever any sick body falls into my hands again, they shall grease them well before I perform the cure; for, the abbot must eat, that sings for his meat; and I cannot believe Heaven has endued me with the virtue I have, that I should communicate it to others for nothing." — "You are in the right, friend Sancho," answered Don Quixote; "and Altisidora has done very ill by you, not to give you the promised smocks; though the virtue you have was given you gratis, and without any studying on your part, more than studying how to receive a little pain in your person. For myself, I can say, if you had a mind to be paid for disenchanting Dulcinea, I would have made it good to you ere now; but I do not know whether payment will agree with the conditions of the cure, and I would by no means have the reward hinder the operation of the medicine. But, for all that, I think there can be no risk in making a small trial. Consider, Sancho, what you would demand, and set about the whipping straight, and pay yourself in ready money, since you have cash of mine in your hands."

At these offers Sancho opened his eyes and ears a span wider, and in his heart consented to whip himself heartily, and he said to his master: "Well then, Sir, I will now dispose myself to give your worship satisfaction, since I shall get something by it; for, I confess, the love I have for my wife and children makes me seem a little self-interested. Tell me, Sir, how much will your worship give for each lash?" — "Were I to pay you, Sancho," answered Don Quixote, "in proportion to the greatness and quality of the cure, the treasure of Venice, and the mines of Potosi, would be too small a recompense. But see how much cash you have of mine, and set your own price upon each lash." — "The lashes," answered Sancho, "are three thousand, three hundred, and odd: of these I have already given myself five; the rest remain; let the five pass for the odd ones, and let us come to the three thousand, three hundred; which, at a quarter of a real apiece, and I will not take less, though all the world should command me to do it, amount to three thousand three hundred quarter-reals; which make one thousand six hundred and fifty half-reals; which make eight hundred and twenty-five reals. These I will deduct from what I have of your worship's in my hands, and shall return to my house rich and contented, though well whipped; for, they do not take trouts — I say no more." — "O blessed Sancho! O amiable Sancho!" replied Don Quixote; "how much shall Dulcinea and I be bound to serve you all the days of life Heaven shall be pleased to grant us? If she recovers her lost state, as is it impossible but she must, her mishap will prove her good fortune, and my defeat a most happy triumph; and when, Sancho, do you propose to begin -[596]- the discipline? I will add an hundred reals over and above, for despatch" — "When?" replied Sancho; "even this very night without fail; take you care, Sir, that we may be in open field, and I will take care to lay my flesh open."

At length came the night, expected by Don Quixote with the greatest anxiety in the world, the wheels of Apollo's chariot seeming to him to be broken, and the day to be prolonged beyond its usual length; even as it happens to lovers, who, in the account of their impatience, think the hour of the accomplishment of their desires will never come.

Finally, they got among some pleasant trees a little way out of the high road, where, leaving the saddle and pannel of Rozinante and Dapple vacant, they laid themselves along on the green grass, and supped out of Sancho's cupboard; who, making a ponderous and flexible whip of Dapple's headstall and halter, withdrew about twenty paces from his master among some beech-trees. Don Quixote seeing him go with such resolution and spirit, said to him: "Take care, friend, you do not lash yourself to pieces; take time; let one stroke stay till another's over; hurry not yourself so as to lose your breath in the midst of your career; I mean, you must not lay it on so unmercifully, as to lose your life before you attain to the desired number. And, that you may not lose the game by a card too much or too little, I will stand aloof, and keep reckoning upon my beads the lashes you shall give yourself; and Heaven favour you as your worthy intention deserves." — "The good paymaster is in pain for no pawn," answered Sancho: "I design to lay it on in such a manner, that it may smart without killing me; for in this the substance of the miracle must needs consist. He then stripped himself naked from the waist upward; and then snatching and cracking the whip, he began to lay himself on, and Don Quixote to count the strokes. Sancho had given himself about six or eight, when he thought the jest a little too heavy, and the price much too easy; and stopping his hand awhile, he said to his master that he appealed on being deceived, every lash of those being richly worth half a real, instead of a quarter. "Proceed, friend Sancho, and be not faint-hearted," cried Don Quixote; "for I double the pay." — "If so," quoth Sancho, "away with it  in God's name, and let it rain lashes." But the sly knave, instead of laying them on his back, laid them on the trees, fetching ever and anon such groans, that one would have thought each would have torn up his very soul by the roots. Don Quixote, naturally tender-hearted, and fearing he would put an end to his life, and so he should not attain his desire through Sancho's imprudence, said to him: "I conjure you, by your life, friend, let the business rest here; for this medicine seems to me very harsh; and it will not be amiss to give time to time; for Zamora was not taken in one hour. You have already given yourself, if I reckon right, above a thousand lashes, enough for the present; for the ass (to speak in homely phrase) will carry the load, but not a double load." — "No, no," answered Sancho, "it shall never be said for me, the money paid, the work delayed: pray, Sir, get a little farther off, and let me give myself another thousand lashes at least; for a couple more of such bouts will finish the job, and stuff to spare." — "Since you find yourself in so good a disposition," replied Don Quixote, "Heaven assist you; and stick to it, for I am gone." Sancho returned to his task with so much fervour, and such was the rigour with which he gave the lashes, that he had already disbarked many a tree; and once, lifting up his voice, and giving an unmeasurable stroke to a beech, he cried: "Down with thee, Sampson, and all that are with thee." -[597]- Quixote presently ran to the sound of the piteous voice, and the stroke of the severe whip, and laying hold of the twisted halter, which served Sancho instead of a bull's pizzle, he said: "Heaven forbid, friend Sancho, that, for my pleasure, you should lose that life upon which depends the maintenance of your wife and children; let Dulcinea wait a better opportunity; for I will contain myself within the bounds of the nearest hope, and stay till you recover fresh strength, that this business may be concluded to the satisfaction of all parties." — "Since your worship, dear Sir, will have it so," answered Sancho, "so be it, in God's name, and pray, fling your cloak over my shoulders; for I am all in a sweat, and am loath to catch cold, as new disciplinants are apt to do." Don Quixote did so; and, leaving himself in his doublet, he covered up Sancho, who slept till the sun waked him, and then they prosecuted their journey, till they stopped at a place about three leagues off.

They alighted at an inn; for Don Quixote took it for such, and not for a castle, moated round, with its turrets, portcullises, and drawbridge; for, since his defeat, he discoursed with more judgment on all occasions, as will presently appear. He was lodged in a ground room, hung with painted serge, instead of tapestry, as is the fashion in country towns. In one of the pieces was painted, by a wretched hand, the rape of Helen, when the daring guest carried her off from Menelaus. In another, was the history of Dido and Ζneas; she upon a high tower, as making signals with half a bed-sheet to her fugitive guest, who was out at sea, flying away from her, in a frigate or brigantine. He observed in the two history-pieces, that Helen went away with no very ill will; for she was slily laughing to herself; but the beauteous Dido seemed to let fall from her eyes tears as big as walnuts. Don Quixote, seeing this, said: "These two ladies were most unfortunate in not being born in this age, and I above all men unhappy, that I was not born in theirs; for had I encountered those gallants, neither had Troy been burnt, nor Carthage destroyed; since, by my killing Paris only, all these mischiefs had been prevented." — "I hold a wager," quoth Sancho, "that, ere it be long, there will not be either victualling-house, tavern, inn, or barber's shop, in which the history of our exploits will not be painted, but I could wish they may be done by the hand of a better painter than he that did these." — "You are in the right, Sancho," said Don Quixote; "for this painter is like Orbaneja of Ubeda, who, when he was asked what he was drawing, answered: 'As it shall happen;' and if it chanced to be a cock, he wrote under it, This is a cock, lest people should take it for a fox. Just such a one, methinks, Sancho, the painter or writer (for it is all one) must be, who wrote the history of this new Don Quixote, lately published: he painted, or wrote, whatever came uppermost. Or, he is like a poet, some years about the court, called Mauleon, who answered all questions extempore; and, a person asking him the meaning of Deum de Deo, he answered, Deι donde diere. But, setting all this aside, tell me, Sancho, do you think of giving yourself the other brush to-night? And have you a mind it should be under a roof, or in the open air?" — "Before God, Sir," answered Sancho, "for what I intend to give myself, it is all the same to me, whether it be in a house or in a field: though I had rather it were among trees; for, methinks, they accompany me, as it were, and help me to bear my toil marvellously well." — "However, it shall not be now, friend Sancho," answered Don Quixote; "but, that you may recover strength, it shall be reserved for our village; and we shall get thither by the day after -[598]- to-morrow at farthest." Sancho replied, he might order that as he pleased; but, for his part, he was desirous to make an end of the business out of hand, and in hot blood, and while the mill was grinding; for usually the danger lies in the delay; and, "pray to God devoutly, and hammer out stoutly;" and, "one take is worth two I'll give thee's;" and, "a bird in hand is better than a vulture on the wing." — "No more proverbs, Sancho, for God's sake," cried Don Quixote; "for, methinks, you are going back to sicut erat. Speak plainly, and without flourishes, as I have often told you, and you will find it a loaf per cent in your way." — "I know not how I came to be so unlucky," answered Sancho, "that I cannot give a reason without a proverb, nor a proverb which does not seem to me to be a reason; but I will mend if I can:" and thus ended the conversation for that time.


Gavilan College celebrates 400 years of Don Quijote

Don Quixote de la Mancha, translated by Charles Jarvis

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