_Which gives an account of a thousand trifles and stories, as
impertinent as necessary to the right understanding of this grand
history._
The scholar thought Sancho the most saucy servant, and his master the
calmest madman, that ever he saw; though he attributed the patience of
the latter to a certain good humour and easiness of temper, infused
into him by the sight of his mistress Dulcinea, even under
enchantment; otherwise he would have thought his not checking Sancho a
greater sign of madness than his discourse. "Noble Don Quixote," said
he, "for four principal reasons, I am extremely pleased with having
taken this journey with you. First, it has procured me the honour of
your acquaintance, which I shall always esteem a singular happiness.
In the second place, sir, the secrets of Montesinos' cave, and the
transformations of Guadiana, and Ruydera's lakes, have been revealed
to me, which may look very great in my Spanish Ovid. My third
advantage is, to have discovered the antiquity of card-playing, which
I find to have been a pastime in use even in the Emperor Charles the
Great's time, as may be collected from the words of Durandarte, who,
after a long speech of Montesinos', said, as he waked, 'Patience, and
shuffle the cards;' which vulgar expression he could never have
learned in his enchantment. It follows, therefore, that he must have
heard it when he lived in France, which was in the reign of that
emperor; which observation is nicked, I think, very opportunely for my
supplement to Polydore Vergil, who, as I remember, has not touched
upon card-playing. I will insert it in my work, I'll assure you, sir,
as a matter of great importance, having the testimony of so authentic
and ancient an author as Sir Durandarte."
"There is a great deal of reason in what you say," answered Don
Quixote; "but more of this some other time--it is late now, and
therefore convenient to think of a lodging."
"Hard by us here, sir," said the author, "is a hermitage, the
retirement of a devout person, who, as they say, was once a soldier,
and is looked upon as a good Christian; and so charitable, that he has
built there a house at his own expense, purely for the entertainment
of strangers." "But does he keep hens there, trow?" asked Sancho. "Few
hermits in this age are without them," said Don Quixote; "for their
way of living now falls short of the strictness and austerity of those
in the deserts of Egypt, who went clad only with palm-leaves, and fed
on the roots of the earth. Now, because I speak well of these of old,
I would not have you think I reflect on the others: no, I only mean
that their penances are not so severe as in former days; yet this does
not hinder but that the hermits of the present age may be good men. I
look upon them to be such; at least, their appearance secures them
from scandal: even the hypocrite that puts on the form of holiness,
does less harm than the barefaced sinner."
As they went on in their discourse, they saw a man following them at a
great pace on foot, and switching up a mule laden with lances and
halberts. He presently overtook them, saluted them, and passed by.
"Stay," cried Don Quixote, seeing him go so fast; "make no more haste
than is consistent with good speed." "I cannot stay, sir," said the
man; "for these weapons that you see must be used to-morrow morning;
so, sir, as I am in haste, good bye; I shall lodge to-night at the inn
beyond the hermitage; if you chance to go that way, there you may find
me; and I will tell you strange news: so fare ye well." Then, whipping
his mule, on he moved, so fast that Don Quixote had not leisure to ask
him any more questions.
The knight, in order to satisfy his curiosity, proposed their holding
straight on to the inn, without stopping at the hermitage, where the
scholar designed to have stayed all night. They all consented, and
made the best of their way. However, when they came near the
hermitage, the scholar desired Don Quixote to call with him for a
moment, and drink a glass of wine at the door. Sancho no sooner heard
this proposed than he turned Dapple that way, and rode thither before;
but, to his grief, the hospitable hermit was abroad, and nobody at
home but the hermit's companion, who, being asked whether he had any
_strong_ liquor within, made answer, that he could not come at any;
but as for water, he might have his fill. "Good!" quoth Sancho; "were
mine a water-thirst, or had I any liking to your cold comfort, there
are wells enough upon the road. Oh, the good cheer of Don Diego's, and
at Camacho's wedding! when shall I find the like?" They now spurred on
towards the inn, and soon overtook on the road a young fellow walking
leisurely on before them. He carried his sword over his shoulder, with
a bundle of clothes hanging upon it. He had on a tattered velvet
jerkin, with a ragged satin lining; his stockings were of silk, and
his shoes square at the toes, after the court fashion. He seemed about
eighteen years of age--a pleasant-looking lad, and of a lively and
active disposition. To pass the fatigue of his journey, he sung all
the way; and, as they came near him, was just ending the last words of
a ballad, which were these:
"For want of the pence to the wars I must go:
Oh! had I but money it would not be so."
"So, young gentleman," said Don Quixote to him, "methinks you go very
light and airy. Whither are you bound, I pray you?" "I am going to the
wars, sir," answered the youth; "and for my travelling thus, heat and
poverty will excuse it." "I admit the heat," replied Don Quixote; "but
why poverty, I beseech you?" "Because I have no clothes to put on,"
replied the lad, "but what I carry in this bundle; and if I should
wear them out upon the road, I should have nothing to make a handsome
figure with in any town; for I have no money to buy new ones till I
overtake a regiment of foot that lies about some twelve leagues off,
where I design to enlist myself; and then I shall not want a
conveniency to ride with the baggage till we come to Carthagena, where
I hear they are to embark; for I had rather serve the king abroad,
than any beggarly courtier at home." "But pray," said the scholar,
"have not you laid up something while you were there?" "Had I served
any of your grandees or great persons," said the young man, "I might
have had a commission by this time; for their footboys are presently
advanced to captains and lieutenants, or some other good post; but
unhappily it was always my ill-fortune to serve pitiful upstarts and
younger brothers; and my allowance was so ill paid, and so small, that
the better half was scarce enough to wash my linen: how then should a
poor page, who would make his fortune, come to any good in such a
miserable service?" "But," said Don Quixote, "how comes it, that in
all this time you could not get yourself a whole livery?"
"Alack-a-day, sir," answered the lad, "I had a couple; but my master
dealt with me as they do with novices in monasteries--if they go off
before they profess, the fresh habit is taken from them, and they
return them their own clothes. For you must know, that such as I
served only buy liveries for a little ostentation; so, when they have
made their appearance at court, they sneak down into the country; and
then the poor servants are stripped, and must even betake themselves
to their rags again."
"A sordid trick," said Don Quixote. "But you need not repine at
leaving the court, since you do it with so good a design; for there is
nothing in the world more commendable than to serve God in the first
place, and the king in the next, especially in the profession of arms,
which, if it does not procure a man so much riches as learning, may at
least entitle him to more honour. It is true that more families have
been advanced by the gown; but yet your gentlemen of the sword,
whatever the reason of it is, have always I know not what advantage
above the men of learning; and something of glory and splendour
attends them, that makes them outshine the rest of mankind. But take
my advice along with you, child: if you intend to raise yourself by
military employment, I would not have you be uneasy with the thoughts
of what misfortunes may befall you; the worst can be but to die, and
if it be a good honourable death, your fortune is made, and you are
certainly happy. Julius Caesar, that valiant Roman emperor, being asked
what kind of death was best, 'That which is sudden and unexpected,'
said he; and though he answered like a heathen, who knew not the true
God, yet, with respect to human infirmities, it was very judicious;
for, suppose you should be cut off at the very first engagement by a
cannon-ball, or the spring of a mine, what matters it? it is but
dying, and there is an end of the business. As Terence says, a soldier
makes a better figure dead in the field of battle, than alive and safe
in flight. The more likely he is to rise in fame and preferment, the
better discipline he keeps; the better he obeys, the better he will
know how to command; and pray observe, my friend, that it is more
honourable for a soldier to smell of gunpowder than of musk and amber.
Or, if old age overtakes you in this noble employment, though all over
scars, though maimed and lame, you will still have honour to support
you, and secure you from the contempt of poverty, nay, from poverty
itself; for there is care taken that veterans and disabled soldiers
may not want; neither are they to be used as some men do their negro
slaves, who, when they are old and past service, are turned naked out
of doors, under pretence of freedom, to be made greater slaves to cold
and hunger--a slavery from which nothing but death can set the
wretches free. But I will say no more to you on this subject at this
time. Get up behind me, and I will carry you to the inn, where you
shall sup with me, and to-morrow morning make the best of your way;
and may Heaven prosper your good designs."
The page excused himself from riding behind the knight, but accepted
of his invitation to supper very willingly. Sancho, who had all the
while given ear to his master's discourse, is said to have been more
than usually surprised, hearing him talk so wisely. Now blessings on
thee, master, thought he to himself; how comes it about, that a man
who says so many good things should relate such ridiculous stories and
whimsies as he would have us believe of Montesinos' cave? By this time
it began to grow dark, and they arrived at the inn, where Don Quixote
alighting, asked presently for the man with the lances and halberts.
The innkeeper answered, that he was rubbing down his mule in the
stable. Sancho was very well pleased to be at his journey's end; and
the more that his master took the house for a real inn, and not for a
castle, as he used to do.