Wit and Wisdom of Don Quixote
called the Knight of the Sorrowful Figure."
It is not courage, but rashness, for one man singly to
encounter an army, where death is present, and where
emperors fight in person, assisted by good and bad angels.
Good Christians should never revenge injuries.
A sparrow in the hand is better than a vulture on the wing.
At the conclusion of this drama of life, death strips us of
the robes which make the difference between man and man, and
leaves us all on one level in the grave.
From a friend to a friend,[7] etc.
Nor let it be taken amiss that any comparison should be made
between the mutual cordiality of animals and that of men;
for much useful knowledge and many salutary precepts have
been taught by the brute creation.
We may learn gratitude as well as vigilance from cranes,
foresight from ants, modesty from elephants, and loyalty
from horses.
Harken, and we shall discover his thoughts by his song, for
out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh.[8]
SONNET.
Bright authoress of my good or ill,
Prescribe the law I must observe;
My heart, obedient to thy will,
Shall never from its duty swerve.
If you refuse my griefs to know,
The stifled anguish seals my fate;
But if your ears would drink my woe,
Love shall himself the tale relate.
Though contraries my heart compose,
Hard as the diamond's solid frame,
And soft as yielding wax that flows,
To thee, my fair, 'tis still the same.
Take it, for every stamp prepared;
Imprint what characters you choose;
The faithful tablet, soft or hard,
The dear impression ne'er shall lose.
The sorrows that may arise from well-placed affections,
ought rather to be accounted blessings than calamities.
Good fare lessens care.
The rarest sporting is that we find at other people's cost.
Covetousness bursts the bag.
Other folk's burdens break the ass's back.
There is no road so smooth but it has its stumbling-places.
Madness will have more followers than discretion.
Comparisons in grief lessen its weight.
If the blind lead the blind, both may fall into the ditch.
A good paymaster needs no pledge.
Nobody knows the heart of his neighbor; some go out for wool
and come home shorn.
Let us drink and live, for time takes care to rid us of our
lives, without our seeking ways to go before our appointed
term and season.
"You must know I have had in my family, by the father's side, two of the
rarest tasters that were ever known in La Mancha; and I will give you a
proof of their skill. A certain hogshead was given to each of them to
taste, and their opinion asked as to the condition, quality, goodness,
or badness, of the wine. One tried it with the tip of his tongue; the
other only put it to his nose. The first said the wine savored of iron;
the second said it had rather a twang of goat's leather. The owner
protested that the vessel was clean, and the wine neat, so that it could
not taste either of iron or leather. Notwithstanding this, the two
famous tasters stood positively to what they had said. Time went on;
the wine was sold off, and, on cleaning the cask, a small key, hanging
to a leathern thong, was found at the bottom. Judge then, sir, whether
one of that race may not be well entitled to give his opinion in these
matters."
"That being the case," quoth he of the wood, "we should leave off
seeking adventures, and, since we have a good loaf, let us not look for
cheesecakes."
The conquered must be at the discretion of the conqueror.
It is easy to undertake, but more difficult to finish a
thing.
"Pray, which is the greater madman, he who is so because he
cannot help it, or he who is so on purpose?"
"The difference between these two sorts of madmen is,"
replied Sampson, "that he who cannot help it will remain so,
and he who deliberately plays the fool may leave off when he
thinks fit."
Heaven knows the truth of all things.
The ancient sages, who were not enlightened with the
knowledge of the true God, reckoned the gifts of fortune and
nature, abundance of friends, and increase of dutiful
children, as constituting part of the supreme happiness.
Letters without virtue are like pearls on a dunghill.
DON QUIXOTE ON POETRY.
Poetry I regard as a tender virgin, young and extremely beautiful, whom
divers other virgins--namely, all the other sciences--are assiduous to
enrich, to polish, and adorn. She is to be served by them, and they are
to be ennobled through her. But the same virgin is not to be rudely
handled, nor dragged through the streets, nor exposed in the
market-places, nor posted on the corners of gates of palaces. She is of
so exquisite a nature that he who knows how to treat her will convert
her into gold of the most inestimable value. He who possesses her should
guard her with vigilance; neither suffering her to be polluted by
obscene, nor degraded by dull and frivolous works. Although she must be
in no wise venal, she is not, therefore, to despise the fair reward of
honorable labors, either in heroic or dramatic composition. Buffoons
must not come near her, neither must she be approached by the ignorant
vulgar, who have no sense of her charms; and this term is equally
applicable to all ranks, for whoever is ignorant is vulgar. He,
therefore, who, with the qualifications I have named, devotes himself to
poetry, will be honored and esteemed by all nations distinguished for
intellectual cultivation.
Indeed, it is generally said that the gift of poesy is innate--that is,
a poet is born a poet, and, thus endowed by Heaven, apparently without
study or art, composes things which verify the saying, _Est Deus in
nobis_, etc. Thus the poet of nature, who improves himself by art, rises
far above him who is merely the creature of study. Art may improve, but
cannot surpass nature; and, therefore, it is the union of both which
produces the perfect poet.
Let him direct the shafts of satire against vice, in all its various
forms, but not level them at individuals, like some who, rather than not
indulge their mischievous wit, will hazard a disgraceful banishment to
the Isles of Pontus. If the poet be correct in his morals, his verse
will partake of the same purity: the pen is the tongue of the mind, and
what his conceptions are, such will be his productions. The wise and
virtuous subject who is gifted with a poetic genius is ever honored and
enriched by his sovereign, and crowned with the leaves of the tree which
the thunderbolt hurts not, as a token that all should respect those
brows which are so honorably adorned.
Forewarned, forearmed; to be prepared is half the victory.
It is a nobler sight to behold a knight-errant assisting a
widow in solitude than a courtier-knight complimenting a
damsel in the city.
Well I know that fortitude is a virtue placed between the
two extremes of cowardice and rashness: but it is better the
valiant should rise to the extreme of temerity than sink to
that of cowardice, for, as it is easier for the prodigal
than the miser to become liberal, so it is much easier for
the rash than the cowardly to become truly brave.
THE ADVENTURE WITH THE LIONS.
Don Quixote, after having wiped his head, face, beard, and helmet, again
put it on, and fixing himself firm in his stirrups, adjusting his sword,
and grasping his lance, he exclaimed, "Now, come what may, I am prepared
to encounter Satan himself!"
They were soon overtaken by the cart with flags, which was attended only
by the driver, who rode upon one of the mules, and a man sitting upon
the fore part of it. Don Quixote planted himself just before them, and
said, "Whither go ye, brethren? What carriage is this? What does it
contain, and what are those banners?"
"The cart is mine," answered the carter, "and in it are two fierce
lions, which the general of Oran is sending to court as a present to his
majesty; the flags belong to our liege the king, to show that what is in
the cart belongs to him."
"And are the lions large?" demanded Don Quixote.
"Larger never came from Africa to Spain," said the man on the front of
the cart; "I am their keeper, and in my time have had charge of many
lions, but never of any so large as these. They are a male and a female;
the male is in the first cage, and the female is in that behind. Not
having eaten to-day, they are now hungry and therefore, sir, stand
aside, for we must make haste to the place where they are to be fed."
"What!" said Don Quixote, with a scornful smile, "lion-whelps against
me! Against me, your puny monsters! and at this time of day! By yon
blessed sun! those who sent them hither shall see whether I am a man to
be scared by lions. Alight, honest friend! and, since you are their
keeper, open the cages and turn out your savages of the desert: for in
the midst of this field will I make them know who Don Quixote de la
Mancha is, in spite of the enchanters that sent them hither to me."
"So, so," quoth the gentleman to himself, "our good knight has now given
us a specimen of what he is; doubtless the curds have softened his
skull, and made his brains mellow."
Sancho now coming up to him, "For Heaven's sake, sir," cried he, "hinder
my master from meddling with these lions; for if he does they will tear
us all to pieces."
"What, then, is your master so mad," answered the gentleman, "that you
really fear he will attack such fierce animals?"
"He is not mad," answered Sancho, "but daring."
"I will make him desist," replied the gentleman; and, going up to Don
Quixote, who was importuning the keeper to open the cages, "Sir," said
he, "Knights-errant should engage in adventures that, at least, afford
some prospect of success, and not such as are altogether desperate; for
the valor which borders on temerity has in it more of madness than
courage. Besides, sir knight, these lions do not come to assail you:
they are going to be presented to his majesty; and it is, therefore,
improper to detain them or retard their journey."
"Sweet sir," answered Don Quixote, "go hence, and mind your decoy
partridge, and your stout ferret, and leave every one to his functions.
This is mine, and I shall see whether these gentlemen lions will come
against me or not." Then, turning to the keeper, he said, "I vow to
Heaven, Don Rascal, if thou dost not instantly open the cages, with this
lance I will pin thee to the cart."
The carter seeing that the armed lunatic was resolute, "Good sir," said
he, "for charity's sake, be pleased to let me take off my mules and get
with them out of danger, before the lions are let loose: for should my
cattle be killed, I am undone for ever, as I have no other means of
living than by this cart and these mules."
"Incredulous wretch!" cried Don Quixote, "unyoke and do as thou wilt;
but thou shalt soon see that thy trouble might have been spared."
The carter alighted and unyoked in great haste. The keeper then said
aloud, "Bear witness, all here present, that against my will, and by
compulsion, I open the cages and let the lions loose. I protest against
what this gentleman is doing, and declare all the mischief done by these
beasts shall be placed to his account, with my salary and perquisites
over and above. Pray, gentlemen, take care of yourselves before I open
the door; for, as to myself, I am sure they will do me no hurt."
Again the gentleman pressed Don Quixote to desist from so mad an action;
declaring to him that he was thereby provoking God's wrath. Don Quixote
replied that he knew what he was doing. The gentleman rejoined, and
entreated him to consider well of it, for he was certainly deceived.