As nothing that is man's can last forever, but all tends ever downward
from its beginning to its end, and above all, man's life; and as Don
Quixote's enjoyed no special dispensation from Heaven to stay its
course,--its end and close came when he least looked for it.
For--whether it was of the dejection the thought of his defeat
produced, or of Heaven's will that so ordered it--a fever settled upon
him and kept him in his bed for six days, during which he was often
visited by his friends the curate, the bachelor, and the barber, while
his good squire Sancho Panza never quitted his bedside. They,
persuaded that it was grief at finding himself vanquished, and the
object of his heart, the liberation and disenchantment of Dulcinea,
unattained, that kept him in this state, strove by all the means in
their power to cheer him up: the bachelor bidding him take heart and
get up to begin his pastoral life; for which he himself, he said, had
already composed an eclogue that would take the shine out of all
Sannazaro[48] had ever written, and had bought with his own money two
famous dogs to guard the flock, one called Barcino and the other
Butron, which a herdsman of Quintanar had sold him.
[Footnote 47: From "Don Quixote." Translated by John Jarvis.]
[Footnote 48: Jacopo Sannazaro was a Neapolitan poet, who wrote a work
called "Arcadia."]
But for all this Don Quixote could not shake off his sadness. His
friends called in the doctor, who felt his pulse and was not very well
satisfied with it, and said that in any case it would be well for him
to attend to the health of his soul, as that of his body was in a bad
way. Don Quixote heard this calmly; but not so his housekeeper, his
niece, and his squire, who fell weeping bitterly, as if they had him
lying dead before them. The doctor's opinion was that melancholy and
depression were bringing him to his end. Don Quixote begged them to
leave him to himself, as he had a wish to sleep a little. They obeyed,
and he slept at one stretch, as the saying is, more than six hours, so
that the housekeeper and niece thought he was going to sleep forever.
But at the end of that time he woke up, and in a loud voice exclaimed,
"Blest be Almighty God, who has shown me such goodness! In truth His
mercies are boundless, and the sins of men can neither limit them nor
keep them back!"...
They looked at one another, wondering at Don Quixote's words; but, tho
uncertain, they were inclined to believe him, and one of the signs by
which they came to the conclusion he was dying was this so sudden and
complete return to his senses after having been mad; for to the words
already quoted he added much more, so well exprest, so devout, and so
rational, as to banish all doubt and convince them that he was sound
of mind. The curate turned them all out, and, left alone with him,
confest him. The bachelor went for the notary, and returned shortly
afterward with him and with Sancho, who, having already learned from
the bachelor the condition his master was in, and finding the
housekeeper and niece weeping, began to blubber and shed tears.
The confession over, the curate came out saying: "Alonso Quixano the
Good is indeed dying, and is indeed in his right mind; we may now go
in to him, while he makes his will."
This news gave a tremendous impulse to the brimming eyes of the
housekeeper, niece, and Sancho Panza his good squire, making the tears
burst from their eyes and a host of sighs from their hearts; for, of a
truth, as has been said more than once, whether as plain Alonso
Quixano the Good, or as Don Quixote of La Mancha, Don Quixote was
always of a gentle disposition and kindly in all his ways, and hence
he was beloved not only by those of his own house, but by all who knew
him.
The notary came in with the rest, and as soon as the preamble of the
will had been set out and Don Quixote had commended his soul to God
with all the devout formalities that are usual, coming to the
bequests, he said: "_Item_: It is my will that, touching certain
moneys in the hands of Sancho Panza (whom in my madness I made my
squire), inasmuch as between him and me there have been certain
accounts and debits and credits, no claim be made against him, nor any
account demanded of him in respect of them; but that if anything
remain over and above, after he has paid himself what I owe him, the
balance, which will be but little, shall be his, and much good may it
do him; and if as when I was mad I had a share in giving him the
government of an island, so now that I am in my senses could I give
him that of a kingdom, it should be his, for the simplicity of his
character and the fidelity of his conduct deserve it." And then,
turning to Sancho, he said, "Forgive me, my friend, that I led thee to
seem as mad as myself, making thee fall into the same error I myself
fell into, that there were and still are knights-errant in the world."
"Ah!" said Sancho weeping; "don't die, master, but take my advice and
live many years; for the foolishest thing a man can do in this life is
to let himself die without rime or reason, without anybody killing
him, or any hands but melancholy's making an end of him. Come, don't
be lazy, but get up from your bed and let us take to the fields in
shepherd's trim as we agreed. Perhaps behind some bush we shall find
the lady Dulcinea disenchanted, as fine as fine can be. If it be that
you are dying of vexation at having been vanquished, lay the blame on
me, and say you were overthrown because I had girted Rosinante badly;
besides, you must have seen in your books of chivalry that it is a
common thing for knights to upset one another, and for him who is
conquered to-day to be conqueror to-morrow."
"Very true," said Samson, "and good Sancho Panza's view of these cases
is quite right."
"Sirs, not so fast," said Don Quixote. "In last year's nests there are
no birds this year. I was mad--now I am in my senses; I was Don
Quixote of La Mancha--I am now, as I said, Alonso Quixano the Good;
and may my repentance and sincerity restore me to the esteem you used
to have for me; and now let Master Notary proceed."
"_Item_--I leave all my property absolutely to Antonia Quixana, my
niece, here present, after all has been deducted from the most
available portion of it that may be required to satisfy the bequests I
have made. And the first disbursement I desire to be made is the
payment of the wages I owe for the time my housekeeper has served me,
with twenty ducats, over and above, for a gown. The curate and the
bachelor Samson Carrasco, now present, I appoint my executors.
"_Item_--It is my wish that if Antonia Quixana, my niece, desires to
marry, she shall marry a man of whom it shall be first of all
ascertained by information taken that he does not know what books of
chivalry are; and if it should be proved that he does, and if in spite
of this my niece insists upon marrying him and does marry him, then
she shall forfeit the whole of what I have left her, which my
executors shall devote to works of charity as they please.
"_Item_--I entreat the aforesaid gentlemen my executors, that if any
happy chance should lead them to discover the author who is said to
have written a history now going about under the title of 'Second Part
of the Achievements of Don Quixote of La Mancha,' they beg of him on
my behalf as earnestly as they can to forgive me for having been,
without intending it, the cause of his writing so many and such
monstrous absurdities as he has written in it; for I am leaving the
world with a feeling of compunction at having provoked him to write
them."
With this he closed his will, and a faintness coming over him, he
stretched himself out at full length on the bed. All were in a flutter
and made haste to relieve him, and during the three days he lived
after that on which he made his will, he fainted away very often. The
house was all in confusion; but still the niece ate and the
housekeeper drank and Sancho Panza enjoyed himself; for inheriting
property wipes out or softens down in the heir the feeling of grief
the dead man might be expected to leave behind him.
At last Don Quixote's end came, after he had received all the
sacraments, and had in full and forcible terms exprest his detestation
of books of chivalry. The notary was there at the time, and he said
that in no book of chivalry had he ever read of any knight-errant
dying in his bed so calmly and so like a Christian as Don Quixote,
who, amid the tears and lamentations of all present, yielded up his
spirit--that is to say, died. On perceiving it, the curate begged the
notary to bear witness that Alonso Quixano the Good, commonly called
Don Quixote of La Mancha, had passed away from this present life, and
died naturally; and said he desired this testimony in order to remove
the possibility of any other author save Cid Hamet Benengeli bringing
him to life again falsely and making interminable stories out of his
achievements.
Such was the end of the Ingenious Gentleman of La Mancha, whose
village Cid Hamet would not indicate precisely, in order to leave all
the towns and villages of La Mancha to contend among themselves for
the right to adopt him and claim him as a son, as the seven cities of
Greece contended for Homer. The lamentations of Sancho and the niece
and the housekeeper are omitted here, as well as the new epitaphs
upon his tomb; Samson Carrasco, however, put the following:
"A doughty gentleman lies here,
A stranger all his life to fear;
Nor in his death could Death prevail,
In that last hour, to make him quail.
He for the world but little cared,
And at his feats the world was scared;
A crazy man his life he passed,
But in his senses died at last."