his horse and himself new named, he perceived he wanted nothing but a
lady, on whom he might bestow the empire of his heart; for he was
sensible that a knight-errant without a mistress was a tree without
either fruit or leaves, and a body without a soul. Should I, said he
to himself, by good or ill fortune, chance to encounter some giant, as
is common in knight-errantry, and happen to lay him prostrate on the
ground, transfixed with my lance, or cleft in two, or, in short,
overcome him and have him at my mercy, would it not be proper to have
some lady to whom I may send him as a trophy of my valor? Then when he
comes into her presence, throwing himself at her feet, he may thus
make his humble submission: "Lady, I am the giant Caraculiambro, lord
of the island of Malindrania, vanquished in single combat by that
never-deservedly-enough-extolled knight-errant Don Quixote de la
Mancha, who has commanded me to cast myself most humbly at your feet,
that it may please your honor to dispose of me according to your
will." Oh! how elevated was the knight with the conceit of this
imaginary submission of the giant; especially having withal bethought
himself of a person on whom he might confer the title of his mistress!
which, it is believed happened thus: Near the place where he lived
dwelt a good likely country lass, for whom he had formerly had a sort
of an inclination, though, it is believed, she never heard of it, nor
regarded it in the least. Her name was Aldonza Lorenzo, and this was
she whom he thought he might entitle to the sovereingty of his heart;
upon which he studied to find her out a new name, that might have some
affinity with her old one, and yet at the same time sound somewhat
like that of a princess or lady of quality; so at last he resolved to
call her Dulcinea, with the addition of del Toboso, from the place
where she was born; a name, in his opinion, sweet, harmonious,
extraordinary, and no less significative than the others which he had
devised.
THE FIGHT WITH THE WINDMILLS
_By Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_
Don Quixote earnestly solicited one of his neighbors, a country
laborer, and a good honest fellow, if we may call a poor man honest,
for he was poor indeed, poor in purse and poor in brains; and, in
short, the knight talked so long to him, plied him with so many
arguments, and made him so many fair promises, that at last the poor
clown consented to go along with him and become his squire. Among
other inducements to entice him to do it willingly, Don Quixote forgot
not to tell him that it was likely such an adventure would present
itself as might secure him the conquest of some island in the time
that he might be picking up a straw or two, and then the squire might
promise himself to be made governor of the place. Allured with these
large promises and many others, Sancho Panza (for that was the name of
the fellow) forsook his wife and children to be his neighbor's squire.
This done, Don Quixote made it his business to furnish himself with
money; to which purpose, selling one house, mortgaging another, and
losing by all, he at last got a pretty good sum together. He also
borrowed a target of a friend, and having patched up his headpiece and
beaver as well as he could, he gave his squire notice of the day and
hour when he intended to set out, that he might also furnish himself
with what he thought necessary; but above all he charged him to
provide himself with a wallet; which Sancho promised to do, telling
him he would also take his ass along with him, which being a very good
one, might be a great ease to him, for he was not used to travel much
afoot. The mentioning of the ass made the noble knight pause awhile;
he mused and pondered whether he had ever read of any knight-errant
whose squire used to ride upon an ass; but he could not remember any
precedent for it: however, he gave him leave at last to bring his ass,
hoping to mount him more honorably with the first opportunity, by
unhorsing the next discourteous knight he should meet. He also
furnished himself with shirts and as many other necessaries as he
could conveniently carry, according to the innkeeper's injunctions.
Which being done, Sancho Panza, without bidding either his wife or
children good-by, and Don Quixote, without taking any more notice of
his housekeeper or of his niece, stole out of the village one night,
not so much as suspected by anybody, and made such haste that by break
of day they thought themselves out of reach, should they happen to be
pursued. As for Sancho Panza, he rode like a patriarch, with his
canvas knapsack, or wallet, and his leathern bottle, having a huge
desire to see himself governor of the island, which his master had
promised him.
Don Quixote happened to strike into the same road which he took the
time before, that is, the plains of Montiel, over which he traveled
with less inconveniency than when he went alone, by reason it was yet
early in the morning; at which time the rays of the sun, striking
obliquely upon them, did not prove so offensive.
As they jogged on, "I beseech your worship, Sir Knight-errant," quoth
Sancho to his master, "be sure you don't forget what you promised me
about the island; for I dare say I shall make shift to govern it, let
it be never so big."--"You must know, friend Sancho," replied Don
Quixote, "that it has been the constant practice of knights-errant in
former ages to make their squires governors of the islands or kingdoms
they conquered. Now I am not only resolved to keep up that laudable
custom, but even to improve it, and outdo my predecessors in
generosity; for whereas sometimes, or rather most commonly, other
knights delayed rewarding their squires till they were grown old, and
worn out with services, bad days, worse nights, and all manner of hard
duty, and then put them off with some title, either of count, or at
least marquis of some valley or province, of great or small extent;
now, if thou and I do but live, it may happen that before we have
passed six days together I may conquer some kingdom, having many other
kingdoms annexed to its imperial crown; and this would fall out most
luckily for thee; for then would I presently crown thee king of one of
them. Nor do thou imagine this to be a mighty matter; for so strange
accidents and revolutions, so sudden and so unforeseen, attend the
profession of chivalry, that I might easily give thee a great deal
more than I have promised."--"Why, should this come to pass," quoth
Sancho Panza, "and I be made a king by some such miracle, as your
worship says, then Joan Gutierez (my mis'ess) would be at least a
queen, and my children infantas."--"Who doubts of that?" cried Don
Quixote. "I doubt of it," replied Sancho Panza; "for I cannot help
believing, that though it should rain kingdoms down upon the face of
the earth, not one of them would sit well upon Mary Gutierez's head;
for I must needs tell you, she's not worth two brass jacks to make a
queen of: no, countess would be better for her, an't please you; and
that too, God help her, will be as much as she can handsomely
manage."--"Recommend the matter to Providence," returned Don Quixote,
"'twill be sure to give what is most expedient for thee; but yet
disdain to entertain inferior thoughts, and be not tempted to accept
less than the dignity of a viceroy."--"No more I won't, sir," quoth
Sancho, "especially since I have so rare a master as your worship, who
will take care to give me whatever may be fit for me, and what I may
be able to deal with."
As they were thus discoursing, they discovered some thirty or forty
windmills that are in that plain; and as soon as the knight had spied
them, "Fortune," cried he, "directs our affairs better than we
ourselves could have wished: look yonder, friend Sancho, there are at
least thirty outrageous giants, whom I intend to encounter; and having
deprived them of life, we will begin to enrich ourselves with their
spoils; for they are lawful prize; and the extirpation of that cursed
brood will be an acceptable service to Heaven."--"What giants?" quoth
Sancho Panza. "Those whom thou seest yonder," answered Don Quixote,
"with their long extended arms; some of that detested race have arms
of so immense a size, that sometimes they reach two leagues in
length."--"Pray look better, sir," quoth Sancho; "those things yonder
are no giants, but windmills, and the arms you fancy, are their sails,
which being whirled about by the wind, make the mill go." "'Tis a
sign," cried Don Quixote, "thou art but little acquainted with
adventures! I tell thee, they are giants; and therefore if thou art
afraid, go aside and say thy prayers, for I am resolved to engage in a
dreadful unequal combat against them all." This said, he clapt spurs
to his horse Rozinante, without giving ear to his squire Sancho, who
bawled out to him, and assured him that they were windmills, and no
giants. But he was so fully possessed with a strong conceit of the
contrary, that he did not so much as hear his squire's outcry, nor was
he sensible of what they were, although he was already very near them;
far from that: "Stand, cowards," cried he as loud as he could; "stand
your ground, ignoble creatures, and fly not basely from a single
knight, who dares encounter you all!" At the same time, the wind
rising, the mill-sails began to move, which when Don Quixote spied,
"Base miscreants," cried he, "though you move more arms than the giant
Briareus, you shall pay for your arrogance." He most devoutly
recommended himself to his Lady Dulcinea, imploring her assistance in
this perilous adventure; and so covering himself with his shield, and
couching his lance, he rushed with Rozinante's utmost speed upon the
first windmill he could come at, and running his lance into the sail,
the wind whirled it about with such swiftness, that the rapidity of
the motion presently broke the lance into shivers, and hurled away
both knight and horse along with it, till down he fell, rolling a good
way off in the field. Sancho Panza ran as fast as his ass could drive
to help his master, whom he found lying, and not able to stir, such a
blow had he and Rozinante received. "Mercy o' me!" cried Sancho, "did
not I give your worship fair warning? Did not I tell you they were
windmills, and that nobody could think otherwise, unless he had also
windmills in his head?"--"Peace, friend Sancho," replied Don Quixote:
"there is nothing so subject to the inconstancy of fortune as war. I
am verily persuaded that cursed necromancer Freston, who carried away
my study and my books, has transformed these giants into windmills to
deprive me of the honor of the victory; such is his inveterate malice
against me; but in the end, all his pernicious wiles and stratagems
shall prove ineffectual against the prevailing edge of my
sword."--"Amen, say I," replied Sancho. And so heaving him up again
upon his legs, once more the knight mounted poor Rozinante, that was
half shoulder-slipped with his fall.
[Illustration: Covering himself with his shield, and couching his
lance, he rushed with Rozinante's utmost speed upon the first windmill
he could come at and running his lance into the sail, the wind whirled
it about with such swiftness, that the rapidity of the motion
presently broke the lance into shivers, and hurled away both knight
and horse along with it, till down he fell, rolling a good way off in
the field. Sancho Panza ran as fast as his ass could drive to help his
master, whom he found lying and not able to stir, such a blow had he
and Rozinante received]
This adventure was the subject of their discourse, as they made the
best of their way towards the pass of Lapice, for Don Quixote took
that road, believing he could not miss of adventure in one so mightily
frequented. However, the loss of his lance was no small affliction to
him; and as he was making his complaint about it to his squire, "I
have read," said he, "friend Sancho, that a certain Spanish knight,
whose name was Diego Perez de Vargas, having broke his sword in the
heat of an engagement, pulled up by the roots a huge oak tree, or at
least tore down a massy branch, and did such wonderful execution,
crushing and grinding so many Moors with it that day, that he won
himself and his posterity the surname of The Pounder, or Bruiser. I
tell thee this, because I intend to tear up the next oak or holm tree
we meet; with the trunk whereof I hope to perform such wondrous deeds
that thou wilt esteem thyself particularly happy in having had the
honor to behold them, and been the ocular witness of achievements
which posterity will scarce be able to believe."--"Heaven grant you
may," cried Sancho; "I believe it all, because your worship says it.
But, an't please you, sit a little more upright in your saddle; you
ride sideling methinks; but that, I suppose, proceeds from your being
bruised by the fall."--"It does so," replied Don Quixote; "and if I do
not complain of the pain, it is because a knight-errant must never
complain of his wounds, though his bowels were dropping out through
them."--"Then I have no more to say," quoth Sancho; "and yet Heaven
knows my heart, I should be glad to hear your worship hone a little
now and then when something ails you: for my part, I shall not fail to
bemoan myself when I suffer the smallest pain, unless indeed it can be
proved, that the rule of not complaining extends to the squires as
well as knights."
Don Quixote could not forbear smiling at the simplicity of his squire;
and told him he gave him leave to complain not only when he pleased,
but as much as he pleased, whether he had any cause or no; for he had
never yet read anything to the contrary in any books of chivalry.
THE INNKEEPER'S BILL
_By Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_
But Don Quixote, as we have said, found himself in an excellent
temper; and his active soul loathing an inglorious repose, he
presently was impatient to depart to perform the duties of his
adventurous profession; for he thought those moments that were trifled
away in amusements or other concerns only a blank in life; and all
delays a depriving distressed persons and the world in general of his
needed assistance. The confidence which he reposed in his balsam,
heightened, if possible, his resolution; and thus carried away by his
eager thoughts, he saddled Rozinante himself, and then put the pannel
upon the ass, and his squire upon the pannel, after he had helped him
to huddle on his clothes; that done, he mounted his steed; and having
spied a javelin that stood in a corner, he seized and appropriated it
to himself, to supply the want of his lance. Above twenty people that
were in the inn stood spectators of all these transactions; and among
the rest the innkeeper's daughter, from whom Don Quixote had not power
to withdraw his eyes, breathing out at every glance a deep sigh from
the very bottom of his heart; which those who had seen him so
mortified the night before took to proceed from the pain of his
bruises.
And now being ready to set forward, he called for the master of the
house, and with a grave delivery, "My lord governor," cried he, "the
favors I have received in your castle are so great and extraordinary
that they bind my grateful soul to an eternal acknowledgment;
therefore that I may be so happy as to discharge part of the
obligation, think if there be ever a proud mortal breathing on whom
you desire to be revenged for some affront or other injury, and
acquaint me with it now; and by my order of knighthood, which binds me
to protect the weak, relieve the oppressed, and punish the bad, I
promise you I'll take effectual care, that you shall have ample
satisfaction to the utmost of your wishes."--"Sir Knight," answered
the innkeeper, with an austere gravity, "I shall not need your
assistance to revenge any wrong that may be offered to my person; for
I would have you to understand that I am able to do myself justice
whenever any man presumes to do me wrong; therefore all the
satisfaction I desire is, that you will pay your reckoning for
horse-meat and man's meat, and all your expenses in my inn."--"How!"
cried Don Quixote, "is this an inn?"--"Yes," answered the host, "and
one of the most noted, and of the best repute upon the road."--"How
strangely have I been mistaken, then!" cried Don Quixote; "upon my
honor I took it for a castle, and a considerable one too; but if it be
an inn, and not a castle, all I have to say is, that you must excuse
me from paying anything; for I would by no means break the laws which
we knights-errant are bound to observe; nor was it ever known, that
they ever paid in any inn whatsoever; for this is the least recompense
that can be allowed them for the intolerable labors they endure day
and night, winter and summer, on foot and on horseback, pinched with
hunger, choked with thirst, and exposed to all the injuries of the air
and all the inconveniences in the world."--"I have nothing to do with
all this," cried the innkeeper; "pay your reckoning, and don't trouble
me with your foolish stories of a cock and a bull; I can't afford to
keep house at that rate."--"Thou art both a fool and a knave of an
innkeeper," replied Don Quixote, and with that clapping spurs to
Rozinante, and brandishing his javelin at his host, he rode out of the
inn without any opposition, and got a good way from it, without so
much as once looking behind him to see whether his squire came after
him.
The knight being marched off, there remained only the squire, who was
stopped for the reckoning. However, he swore he would not pay a cross;
for the selfsame law that acquitted the knight acquitted the squire.
This put the innkeeper into a great passion, and made him threaten
Sancho very hard, telling him if he would not pay him by fair means,
he would have him laid by the heels that moment. Sancho swore by his
master's knighthood he would sooner part with his life than his money
on such an account; nor should the squires in after ages ever have
occasion to upbraid him with giving so ill a precedent, or breaking
their rights.
As ill luck would have it, there happened to be in the inn four
Segovia clothiers, three Cordova pointmakers, and two Seville
hucksters, all brisk, gamesome, roguish fellows; who agreeing all in
the same design, encompassed Sancho, and pulled him off his ass, while
one of them went and got a blanket. Then they put the unfortunate
squire into it, and observing the roof of the place they were in to be
somewhat too low for their purpose, they carried him into the back
yard, which had no limits but the sky, and there they tossed him for
several times together in the blanket, as they do dogs on Shrove
Tuesday. Poor Sancho made so grievous an outcry all the while that his
master heard him, and imagined those lamentations were of some person
in distress, and consequently the occasion of some adventure; but
having at last distinguished the voice, he made to the inn with a
broken gallop; and finding the gates shut, he rode about to see
whether he might not find some other way to get in. But he no sooner
came to the back-yard wall, which was none of the highest, when he was
an eyewitness of the scurvy trick that was put upon his squire. There
he saw him ascend and descend, and frolic and caper in the air with so
much nimbleness and agility, that it is thought the knight himself
could not have forborne laughing, had he been anything less angry. He
did his best to get over the wall, but alas, he was so bruised, that
he could not so much as alight from his horse. This made him fume and
chafe, and vent his passion in a thousand threats and curses, so
strange and various that it is impossible to repeat them. But the more
he stormed, the more they tossed and laughed; Sancho on his side
begging, and howling, and threatening, and cursing, to as little
purpose as his master, for it was weariness alone could make the
tossers give over. Then they charitably put an end to his high
dancing, and set him upon his ass again, carefully wrapped in his
mantle.
But Maritornes, pitying a creature in such tribulation and thinking he
had danced and tumbled enough to be dry, was so generous as to help
him to a draught of water, which she purposely drew from the well that
moment, that it might be the cooler. Sancho clapped the pot to his
mouth, but his master made him desist. "Hold, hold," cried he, "son
Sancho, drink no water, child, it will kill thee; behold I have here
the most holy balsam, two drops of which will cure thee
effectually."--"Ha," replied Sancho, shaking his head, and looking
sourly on the knight with a side face, "have you again forgot that I
am no knight? Keep your brewings for yourself, in the devil's name,
and let me alone." With that he lifted up the jug to his nose, but
finding it to be mere element, he spirted out again the little he had
tasted, and desired the wench to help him to some better liquor; so
she went and fetched him wine to make him amends, and paid for it too
out of her own pocket. As soon as Sancho had tipped off his wine, he
visited his ass's ribs twice or thrice with his heels, and, free
egress being granted him, he trooped off, well content with the
thoughts of having had his ends, and got off scot free, though at the
expense of his shoulders, his usual sureties. It is true, the
innkeeper kept his wallet for the reckoning; but the poor squire was
so dismayed, and in such haste to be gone, that he never missed it.
The host was for shutting the inn doors after him, for fear of the
worst; but the tossers would not let him, being a sort of fellows that
would not have cared for Don Quixote a straw, though he had really
been one of the Knights of the Round Table.
THE BATTLE OF THE SHEEP
_By Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra_
They went on discoursing, when Don Quixote, perceiving a thick cloud
of dust arise right before them in the road, "The day is come," said
he, turning to his squire, "the day is come, Sancho, that shall usher
in the happiness which fortune has reserved for me; this day shall the
strength of my arm be signalized by such exploits as shall be
transmitted even to the latest posterity. Seest thou that cloud of
dust, Sancho? It is raised by a prodigious army marching this way, and
composed of an infinite number of nations."--"Why then, at this rate,"
quoth Sancho, "there should be two armies; for yonder is as great a
dust on the other side." With that Don Quixote looked, and was
transported with joy at the sight, firmly believing that two vast
armies were ready to engage each other in that plain; for his
imagination was so crowded with those battles, enchantments,
surprising adventures, amorous thoughts, and other whimsies which he
had read of in romances, that his strong fancy changed everything he
saw into what he desired to see; and thus he could not conceive that
the dust was only raised by two large flocks of sheep that were going
the same road from different parts, and could not be discerned till
they were very near; he was so positive that they were two armies,
that Sancho firmly believed him at last. "Well, sir," quoth the
squire, "what are we to do, I beseech you?"--"What shall we do,"
replied Don Quixote, "but assist the weaker and injured side? for
know, Sancho, that the army which now moves towards us is commanded by
the great Alifanfaron, emperor of the vast island of Taprobana; the
other that advances behind us is his enemy, the king of the
Garamantians, Pentapolin with the naked arm, so called because he
always enters into the battle with his right arm bare."--"Pray, sir,"
quoth Sancho, "why are these two great men going together by the
ears?"--"The occasion of their quarrel is this," answered Don Quixote:
"Alifanfaron, a strong Pagan, is in love with Pentapolin's daughter, a
very beautiful lady and a Christian; now her father refuses to give
her in marriage to the heathen prince, unless he abjure his false
belief and embrace the Christian religion."--"Burn my beard," said
Sancho, "if Pentapolin be not in the right on it; I will stand by him,
and help him all I may."--"I commend thy resolution," replied Don
Quixote, "it is not only lawful, but requisite; for there is no need
of being a knight to fight in such battles."--"I guessed as much,"
quoth Sancho; "but where shall we leave my ass in the meantime, that I
may be sure to find him again after the battle; for I fancy you never
heard of any man that ever charged upon such a beast."--"It is true,"
answered Don Quixote, "and therefore I would have thee turn him loose,
though thou wert sure never to find him again; for we shall have so
many horses after we have got the day that even Rozinante himself will
be in danger of being changed for another."