_An account of the great adventure of Montesinos' cave._
Don Quixote having tarried three days with the young couple, and been
entertained like a prince, he entreated the student who fenced so well
to help him to a guide that might conduct him to Montesinos' cave,
resolving to go down into it, and prove by his own eyesight the
wonders that were reported of it round the country. The student
recommended a cousin-german of his for his conductor, who, he said,
was an ingenious lad, a pretty scholar, and a great admirer of books
of knight-errantry, and could shew him the famous lake of Ruydera too:
adding, that he would be very good company for the knight, as being
one that wrote books for the booksellers, in order to dedicate them to
great men. Accordingly the learned cousin came, mounted on an ass, his
pack-saddle covered with an old carpet or coarse packing-cloth.
Thereupon Sancho having got ready Rozinante and Dapple, well stuffed
his wallet, and the student's knapsack to boot, they all took their
leave, steering the nearest course to Montesinos' cave.
To pass the time on the road, Don Quixote asked the guide to what
course of study he chiefly applied himself? "Sir," answered the
scholar, "my business is in writing, and copy-money my chief study. I
have published some things with the general approbation of the world,
and much to my own advantage. Perhaps, sir, you may have heard of one
of my books, called 'The Treatise of Liveries and Devices;' in which
I have obliged the public with no less than seven hundred and three
sorts of liveries and devices, with their colours, mottos, and
ciphers; so that any courtier may furnish himself there upon any
extraordinary appearance, with what may suit his fancy or
circumstances, without racking his own invention to find what is
agreeable to his inclination. I can furnish the jealous, the forsaken,
the disdained, the absent, with what will fit them to a hair. Another
piece, which I now have on the anvil, I design to call the
'Metamorphoses, or the Spanish Ovid;' an invention very new and
extraordinary. Another work, which I soon design for the press, I call
a 'Supplement to Polydore Vergil, concerning the Invention of Things;'
a piece, I will assure you, sir, that shews the great pains and
learning of the compiler, and perhaps in a better style than the old
author. For example, he has forgot to tell us who was the first that
was troubled with a catarrh in the world. Now, sir, this I immediately
resolve, and confirm my assertion by the testimony of at least
four-and-twenty authentic writers; by which quotations alone, you may
guess at what pains I have been to instruct and benefit the public."
With more discourse of a like kind they passed their journey, till
they came to the cave the next day, having slept the night before in a
village on the road. There they bought a hundred fathoms of cord, to
let Don Quixote down to the lowest part of the cave. No sooner was he
come to the place, than he prepared for his expedition into that
under-world, telling the scholar, that he was resolved to reach the
bottom, though deep as the most profound abyss; and all having
alighted, the squire and his guide accordingly girt him fast with a
rope. While this was doing, "Good sweet sir," quoth Sancho, "consider
what you do. Do not venture into such a horrid black hole! Look before
you leap, sir, and be not so wilful as to bury yourself alive. Do not
hang yourself like a bottle or a bucket, that is let down to be soused
in a well." "Peace, coward," said the knight, "and bind me fast; for
surely for me such an enterprise as this is reserved." "Pray, sir,"
said the student, "when you are in, be very vigilant in exploring and
observing all the rarities in the place. Let nothing escape your eyes;
perhaps you may discover there some things worthy to be inserted in my
Metamorphoses." "Let him alone," quoth Sancho, "he will go through
with it: he will make a hog or a dog of it, I will warrant you."
Don Quixote being well bound, bethought himself of one thing they had
forgot. "We did ill," said he, "not to provide ourselves with a little
bell, that I might ring for more or less rope as I require it, and
inform you of my being alive. But since there is no remedy, Heaven
prosper me." Then kneeling down, he in a low voice recommended himself
to the Divine Providence for assistance and success in an adventure so
strange, and in all appearance so dangerous. Then raising his voice,
"O thou lady of my life," cried he, "most illustrious Dulcinea del
Toboso, if the prayers of an adventurous absent lover may reach the
ears of the far distant object of his wishes, by the power of thy
unspeakable beauty, I conjure thee to grant me thy favour and
protection, in this plunge and precipice of my fortune! I am now going
to engulf, and cast myself into this dismal profundity, that the world
may know nothing can be impossible to him who, influenced by thy
smiles, attempts, under the banner of thy beauty, the most difficult
task."
This said, he got up again, and approaching the entrance of the cave,
he found it stopped up with brakes and bushes, so that he would be
obliged to make his way by force. Whereupon, drawing his sword, he
began to cut and slash the brambles that stopped up the mouth of the
cave; when, presently, an infinite number of crows and daws came
rushing and fluttering out of the cave about his ears, so thick, and
with such impetuosity, as almost struck him to the ground. He was not
superstitious enough to draw any ill omen from the flight of the
birds; besides it was no small encouragement to him, that he spied no
bats nor owls nor other ill-boding birds of night among them: he
therefore rose again with an undaunted heart, and committed himself to
the black and dreadful abyss. But Sancho and the student first gave
him their benediction, and prayed for the knight's safe and speedy
return.
Don Quixote began to descend, calling for more rope, which they gave
him by degrees, till his voice was drowned in the winding of the cave,
and their cordage was run out. That done, they began to consider
whether they should hoist him up again immediately or no; however,
they resolved to stay half an hour, and then they began to draw up the
rope, but were strangely surprised to find no weight upon it, which
made them conclude the poor gentleman was certainly lost. Sancho,
bursting out into tears, made a heavy lamentation, and fell a hauling
up the rope as fast as he could, to be thoroughly satisfied. But after
they had drawn up about fourscore fathoms, they felt a weight again,
which made them take heart; and at length they plainly saw Don
Quixote. "Welcome," cried Sancho to him, as soon he came in sight;
"welcome, dear master. I am glad you are come back again; we were
afraid you had been pawned for the reckoning." But Sancho had no
answer to his compliment; and when they had pulled the knight quite
up, they found that his eyes were closed as if he had been fast
asleep. They laid him on the ground and unbound him. Yet he made no
sign of waking, and all their turning and shaking was little enough to
make him come to himself.
At last he began to stretch his limbs, as if he had waked out of the
most profound sleep; and staring wildly about him, "Heaven forgive
you, friends!" cried he, "for you have raised me from one of the
sweetest lives that ever mortal led, and most delightful sights that
ever eyes beheld. Now I perceive how fleeting are all the joys of this
transitory life; they are but an imperfect dream, they fade like a
flower, and vanish like a shadow. O ill-fated Montesinos! O
Durandarte, unfortunately wounded! O unhappy Belerma! O deplorable
Guadiana! and you the distressed daughters of Ruydera, whose flowing
waters shew what streams of tears once trickled from your lovely
eyes!" These expressions, uttered with great passion and concern,
surprised the scholar and Sancho, and they desired to know his
meaning, and what he had seen in that horrid dungeon. "Call it not
so," answered Don Quixote, "for it deserves a better name, as I shall
soon let you know. But first give me something to eat, for I am
prodigiously hungry." They then spread the scholar's coarse
saddle-cloth for a carpet; and examining their old cupboard, the
knapsack, they all three sat down on the grass, and eat heartily
together, like men that were a meal or two behindhand. When they had
done, "Let no man stir," said Don Quixote; "sit still, and hear me
with attention."