_The adventure of the Shepherd-Lover, and other truly comical
passages._
Don Quixote stayed four days at Don Diego's house, and during all that
time met with a very generous entertainment. However, he then desired
his leave to go, and returned him a thousand thanks for his kind
reception; letting him know that the duty of his profession did not
admit of his staying any longer out of action; and therefore he
designed to go in quest of adventures, which he knew were plentifully
to be found in that part of Spain; and that he would employ his time
in that till the tilts and tournaments began at Saragosa, to which
place it was now his chief intent to go. However, he would first go to
Montesinos' cave, about which so many wonderful stories were told in
those parts; and there he would endeavour to explore and discover the
source and original springs of the seven lakes, commonly called the
lakes of Ruydera. Don Diego and his son highly commended his noble
resolution, and desired him to command whatever their house afforded,
assuring him he was sincerely welcome to do it; the respect they had
for his honourable profession, and his particular merit, obliging them
to do him all manner of service.
In short, the day of his departure came, a day of joy and gladness to
Don Quixote, but of grief and sadness to poor Sancho, who had no mind
to change his quarters, and liked the good cheer and plenty at Don
Diego's house, much better than his short hungry commons in forests
and deserts, or the sorry pittance of his ill-stored wallets, which he
however crammed and stuffed with what he thought could best make the
change of his condition tolerable. And now Don Quixote taking his
leave of Don Lorenzo, "Sir," said he, "I don't know whether I have
already said it to you, but if I have, give me leave to repeat it once
more, that if you are ambitious of climbing up to the difficult, and
in a manner inaccessible, summit of the temple of Fame, your surest
way is to leave on one hand the narrow path of poetry, and follow the
narrower track of knight-errantry, which in a trice may raise you to
an imperial throne." With these words, Don Quixote seemed to have
summed up the whole evidence of his madness. However, he could not
conclude without adding something more. "Heaven knows," said he, "how
willingly I would take Don Lorenzo with me, to instruct him in those
virtues that are annexed to the employment I profess, to spare the
humble, and crush the proud and haughty. But since his tender years do
not qualify him for the hardships of that life, and his laudable
exercises detain him, I must rest contented with letting you know,
that one way to acquire fame in poetry, is to be governed by other
men's judgment more than your own: for it is natural to fathers and
mothers not to think their own children ugly; and this error is
nowhere so common as in the offspring of the mind."
Don Diego and his son were again surprised to hear this medley of good
sense and extravagance, and to find the poor gentleman so strongly
bent on the quest of these unlucky adventures, the only aim and object
of his desires.
After this, and many compliments and mutual reiterations of offers of
service, Don Quixote having taken leave of the lady of the castle, he
on Rozinante, and Sancho on Dapple, set out and pursued their journey.
They had not travelled far when they were overtaken by two men that
looked like students or ecclesiastics, with two farmers, all mounted
upon asses. One of the scholars had behind him a small bundle of
linen, and two pairs of stockings, trussed up in green buckram like a
portmanteau; the other had no other luggage but a couple of foils and
a pair of fencing pumps. And the husbandmen had a parcel of other
things, which shewed, that having made their market at some adjacent
town, they were now returning home with their ware. They all wondered
(as indeed all others did that ever beheld him) what kind of fellow
Don Quixote was, seeing him make a figure so different from anything
they had ever seen. The knight saluted them, and perceiving their road
lay the same way, offered them his company, entreating them, however,
to move at an easier pace, because their asses went faster than his
horse; and to engage them the more, he gave them a hint of his
circumstances and profession; that he was a knight-errant travelling
round the world in quest of adventures; that his proper name was Don
Quixote de la Mancha, but his titular denomination, the Knight of the
Lions.
All this was Greek, or pedlar's French, to the countrymen; but the
students presently found out his blind side. However, respectfully
addressing him, "Sir Knight," said one of them, "if you are not fixed
to any set stage, as persons of your function seldom are, let us beg
the honour of your company; and you shall be entertained with one of
the finest and most sumptuous weddings that ever was seen, either in
La Mancha, or many leagues round it." "The nuptials of some young
prince, I presume?" said Don Quixote. "No, sir," answered the other,
"but of a yeoman's son, and a neighbour's daughter; he the richest in
all this country, and she the handsomest you ever saw. The
entertainment at the wedding will be new and extraordinary; it is to
be kept in a meadow near the village where the bride lives. They call
her Quiteria the Handsome, by reason of her beauty; and the bridegroom
Camacho the Rich, on account of his wealth. They are well matched as
to age, for she draws towards eighteen, and he is about
two-and-twenty, though some nice folks, that have all the pedigrees in
the world in their heads, will tell ye that the bride comes of a
better family than he; but that is not minded now-a-days, for money,
you know, will hide many faults. And, indeed, this same Camacho is as
free as a prince, and designs to spare no cost upon his wedding. He
has taken a fancy to get the meadow shaded with boughs, that are to
cover it like an arbour, so that the sun will have much ado to peep
through, and visit the green grass underneath. There are also provided
for the diversion of the company, several sorts of antics and
morrice-dancers, some with swords, and some with bells; for there are
young fellows in his village that can manage them cleverly. I say
nothing of those that play tricks with the soles of their shoes when
they dance, leaving that to the judgments of their guests. But nothing
that I have told or might tell you of this wedding, is like to make it
so remarkable as the things which I imagine poor Basil's despair will
do. This Basil is a young fellow that lives next door to Quiteria's
father. Hence arose an attachment, like that of old between Pyramus
and Thisbe; for Basil's love grew up with him from a child, and she
encouraged his passion with all the kind return that modesty could
grant; insomuch that the mutual affection of the two little ones was
the common talk of the village. But Quiteria coming to years of
maturity, her father began to deny Basil the usual access to his
house; and to cut off his farther pretence, declared his resolution of
marrying her to Camacho, who is indeed his superior in estate, though
far short of him in all other qualifications; for Basil is the
cleverest fellow we have: he will pitch ye a bar, wrestle, or play at
tennis with the best in the country; he runs like a stag, leaps like a
buck, plays at nine-pins so well, you would think he tips them down by
witchcraft; sings like a lark; touches a guitar so rarely, he even
makes it speak; and to complete his perfections, he handles a sword
like a fencer."
"For that very single qualification," said Don Quixote, "he deserves
not only Quiteria the Handsome, but a princess; nay, Queen Guinever
herself, were she now living, in spite of Sir Lancelot and all that
would oppose it." "Well," quoth Sancho, who had been silent, and
listening all the while, "my wife used to tell me, she would have
every one marry with their match. All I say is, let honest Basil e'en
marry her! for methinks I have a huge liking to the young man; and so
Heaven bless them together, say I, and a murrain seize those that will
spoil a good match between those that love one another!" "Nay," said
Don Quixote, "if marriage should be always the consequence of mutual
love, what would become of the prerogative of parents, and their
authority over their children? If young girls might always choose
their own husbands, we should have the best families intermarry with
coachmen and grooms; and young heiresses would throw themselves away
upon the first wild young fellows whose promising outsides and
assurance make them set up for fortunes, though all their stock
consists in impudence. For the understanding, which alone should
distinguish and choose in these cases as in all others, is apt to be
blinded or biassed by love and affection; and matrimony is so nice and
critical a point, that it requires not only our own cautious
management, but even the direction of a superior power to choose
right. Whoever undertakes a long journey, if he be wise, makes it his
business to find out an agreeable companion. How cautious then should
he be, who is to take a journey for life, whose fellow-traveller must
not part with him but at the grave; his companion at bed and board,
and sharer of all the pleasures and fatigues of his journey; as the
wife must be to the husband! She is no such sort of ware, that a man
can be rid of when he pleases. When once that is purchased, no
exchange, no sale, no alienation can be made: she is an inseparable
accident to man: marriage is a noose, which, fastened about the neck,
runs the closer, and fits more uneasy by our struggling to get loose:
it is a Gordian knot which none can untie, and being twisted with our
thread of life, nothing but the scythe of death can cut it. I could
dwell longer on this subject, but that I long to know whether you can
tell us anything more of Basil."
"All I can tell you," said the student, "is, that he is in the case of
all desperate lovers; since the moment he heard of this intended
marriage, he has never been seen to smile; he is in a deep melancholy,
talks to himself, and seems out of his senses; he hardly eats or
sleeps, and lives like a savage in the open fields, his only
sustenance a little fruit, and his only bed the hard ground; sometimes
he lifts up his eyes to Heaven, then fixes them on the ground, and in
either posture stands like a statue. In short, he is reduced to that
condition that we who are his acquaintance verily believe, that
Quiteria's fatal 'Yes' of this wedding to-morrow will be attended by
his death."
"Heaven forbid!" cried Sancho. "Who can tell what may happen? he that
gives a broken head can give a plaster. This is one day, but to-morrow
is another; and strange things may fall out in the roasting of an egg.
After a storm comes a calm. Many a man that went to bed well, has
found himself dead in the morning when he awaked. Who can put a spoke
in fortune's wheel? nobody here, I am sure. Between a woman's yea and
nay, I would not engage to put a pin's-point, so close they be one to
another. If Mrs. Quiteria love Mr. Basil, she will give Camacho the
bag to hold: for this same love, they say, looks through spectacles
that makes copper like gold, a cart like a coach, and a shrimp like a
lobster." "Whither, in the name of ill-luck, art thou running with thy
proverbs now, Sancho?" said Don Quixote. "What dost thou know, poor
animal, of fortune, or her wheel, or any thing else?" "Why truly,
sir," quoth Sancho, "if you don't understand me, no wonder if my
sentences be thought nonsense. But let that pass, I understand myself;
and I am sure I have not talked so much like a ninny. But you,
forsooth, are so sharp a cricket." "A critic, blockhead," said Don
Quixote, "you mean." "What makes you so angry, sir?" quoth Sancho; "I
was never brought up at school nor varsity, to know when I murder a
hard word. I was never at court to learn to spell, sir. Some are born
in one town, some in another; one at St. Jago, another at Toledo; and
even there all are not so nicely spoke."
"You are in the right, friend," said the student; "those natives of
that city who live among the tanners, or about the market of
Zocodover, and are confined to mean conversation, cannot speak so well
as those that frequent the polite part of the town, and yet they are
all of Toledo. But propriety, purity, and elegance of style may be
found among men of breeding and judgment, let them be born where they
will; for their judgment is in the grammar of good language, though
practice and example will go a great way."
It was now pretty dark; but before they got to the village, there
appeared an entire blazing constellation. Their ears were entertained
with the pleasing but confused sounds of several sorts of music,
drums, fiddles, pipes, tabors, and bells; and as they approached
nearer still, they found a large arbour at the entrance of the town
stuck full of lights, which burnt undisturbed by the least breeze of
wind. The musicians, which are the life and soul of diversion at a
wedding, went up and down in bands about the meadow. Others were
employed in raising scaffolds for the better view of the shows and
entertainments prepared for the happy Camacho's wedding, and likewise
to solemnise poor Basil's funeral. All the persuasions and endeavours
of the students and countrymen could not move Don Quixote to enter the
town; urging for his reason the custom of knights-errant, who chose to
lodge in fields and forests under the canopy of Heaven, rather than in
soft beds under a gilded roof; and therefore he left them, and went a
little out of the road, full sore against Sancho's will, who had not
yet forgot the good lodging and entertainment he had at Don Diego's
house or castle.