Wit and Wisdom of Don Quixote
fragments served up cold on most nights, lentils on Fridays, collops and
eggs on Saturdays, and a pigeon by way of addition on Sundays, consumed
three-fourths of his income; the remainder of it supplied him with a
cloak of fine cloth, velvet breeches, with slippers of the same for
holidays, and a suit of the best homespun, in which he adorned himself
on week-days. His family consisted of a housekeeper above forty, a niece
not quite twenty, and a lad who served him both in the field and at
home, who could saddle the horse or handle the pruning-hook. The age of
our gentleman bordered upon fifty years: he was of a strong
constitution, spare-bodied, of a meagre visage, a very early riser, and
a lover of the chase. Some pretend to say that his surname was Quixada
or Quesada, for on this point his historians differ; though, from very
probable conjectures, we may conclude that his name was Quixana. This
is, however, of little importance to our history; let it suffice that,
in relating it, we do not swerve a jot from the truth.
In fine, his judgment being completely obscured, he was seized with one
of the strangest fancies that ever entered the head of any madman; this
was, a belief that it behooved him, as well for the advancement of his
glory as the service of his country, to become a knight-errant, and
traverse the world, armed and mounted, in quest of adventures, and to
practice all that had been performed by knights-errant of whom he had
read; redressing every species of grievance, and exposing himself to
dangers, which, being surmounted, might secure to him eternal glory and
renown. The poor gentleman imagined himself at least crowned Emperor of
Trebisond, by the valor of his arm; and thus wrapped in these agreeable
delusions and borne away by the extraordinary pleasure he found in them,
he hastened to put his designs into execution.
The first thing he did was to scour up some rusty armor which had been
his great-grandfather's, and had lain many years neglected in a corner.
This he cleaned and adjusted as well as he could; but he found one grand
defect,--the helmet was incomplete, having only the morion. This
deficiency, however, he ingeniously supplied by making a kind of visor
of pasteboard, which, being fixed to the morion, gave the appearance of
an entire helmet. It is true, indeed, that, in order to prove its
strength, he drew his sword, and gave it two strokes, the first of which
instantly demolished the labor of a week; but not altogether approving
of the facility with which it was destroyed, and in order to secure
himself against a similar misfortune, he made another visor, which,
having fenced in the inside with small bars of iron, he felt assured of
its strength, and, without making any more experiments, held it to be a
most excellent helmet.
In the next place he visited his steed; and although this animal had
more blemishes than the horse of Gonela, which, "_tantum pellis et ossa
fuit_," yet, in his eyes, neither the Bucephalus of Alexander nor the
Cid's Babieca, could be compared with him. Four days was he deliberating
upon what name he should give him; for, as he said to himself, it would
be very improper that a horse so excellent, appertaining to a knight so
famous, should be without an appropriate name; he therefore endeavored
to find one that should express what he had been before he belonged to a
knight-errant, and also what he now was: nothing could, indeed, be more
reasonable than that, when the master changed his state, the horse
should likewise change his name and assume one pompous and
high-sounding, as became the new order he now professed. So, after
having devised, altered, lengthened, curtailed, rejected, and again
framed in his imagination a variety of names, he finally determined upon
Rozinante, a name in his opinion lofty, sonorous, and full of meaning;
importing that he had only been a rozin--a drudge horse--before his
present condition, and that now he was before all the rozins in the
world.
Having given his horse a name so much to his satisfaction, he resolved
to fix upon one for himself. This consideration employed him eight more
days, when at length he determined to call himself Don Quixote; whence
some of the historians of this most true history have concluded that his
name was certainly Quixada, and not Quesada, as others would have it.
Then recollecting that the valorous Amadis, not content with the simple
appellation of Amadis, added thereto the name of his kingdom and native
country, in order to render it famous, styling himself Amadis de Gaul;
so he, like a good knight, also added the name of his province, and
called himself Don Quixote de la Mancha; whereby, in his opinion, he
fully proclaimed his lineage and country, which, at the same time, he
honored by taking its name.
His armor being now furbished, his helmet made perfect, his horse and
himself provided with names, he found nothing wanting but a lady to be
in love with, as he said,--
"A knight-errant without a mistress was a tree without either fruit or
leaves, and a body without a soul!"
One morning before day, being one of the most sultry in the month of
July, he armed himself cap-a-pie, mounted Rozinante, placed the helmet
on his head, braced on his target, took his lance, and, through the
private gate of his back yard, issued forth into the open plain, in a
transport of joy to think he had met with no obstacles to the
commencement of his honorable enterprise. But scarce had he found
himself on the plain when he was assailed by a recollection so terrible
as almost to make him abandon the undertaking; for it just then occurred
to him that he was not yet dubbed a knight; therefore, in conformity to
the laws of chivalry, he neither could nor ought to enter the lists
against any of that order; and, if he had been actually dubbed he
should, as a new knight, have worn white armor, without any device on
his shield, until he had gained one by force of arms. These
considerations made him irresolute whether to proceed, but frenzy
prevailing over reason, he determined to get himself made a knight by
the first one he should meet, like many others of whom he had read. As
to white armor, he resolved, when he had an opportunity, to scour his
own, so that it should be whiter than ermine. Having now composed his
mind, he proceeded, taking whatever road his horse pleased; for therein,
he believed, consisted the true spirit of adventure. Everything that our
adventurer saw and conceived was, by his imagination, moulded to what he
had read; so in his eyes the inn appeared to be a castle, with its four
turrets, and pinnacles of shining silver, together with its drawbridge,
deep moat, and all the appurtenances with which such castles are
visually described. When he had advanced within a short distance of it,
he checked Rozinante, expecting some dwarf would mount the battlements,
to announce by sound of trumpet the arrival of a knight-errant at the
castle; but, finding them tardy, and Rozinante impatient for the
stable, he approached the inn-door, and there saw the two girls, who to
him appeared to be beautiful damsels or lovely dames enjoying themselves
before the gate of their castle.
It happened that, just at this time, a swineherd collecting his hogs (I
make no apology, for so they are called) from an adjoining stubblefield,
blew the horn which assembles them together, and instantly Don Quixote
was satisfied, for he imagined it was a dwarf who had given the signal
of his arrival. With extraordinary satisfaction, therefore, he went up
to the inn; upon which the ladies, being startled at the sight of a man
armed in that manner, with lance and buckler, were retreating into the
house; but Don Quixote, perceiving their alarm, raised his pasteboard
visor, thereby partly discovering his meagre, dusty visage, and with
gentle demeanor and placid voice, thus addressed them: "Fly not, ladies,
nor fear any discourtesy, for it would be wholly inconsistent with the
order of knighthood, which I profess, to offer insult to any person,
much less to virgins of that exalted rank which your appearance
indicates." The girls stared at him, and were endeavoring to find out
his face, which was almost concealed by the sorry visor; but hearing
themselves called virgins, they could not forbear laughing, and to such
a degree that Don Quixote was displeased, and said to them: "Modesty
well becomes beauty, and excessive laughter proceeding from slight cause
is folly."
This language, so unintelligible to the ladies, added to the uncouth
figure of our knight, increased their laughter; consequently he grew
more indignant, and would have proceeded further but for the timely
appearance of the innkeeper, a very corpulent and therefore a very
pacific man, who, upon seeing so ludicrous an object, armed, and with
accoutrements so ill-sorted as were the bridle, lance, buckler, and
corselet, felt disposed to join the damsels in demonstrations of mirth;
but, in truth, apprehending some danger from a form thus strongly
fortified, he resolved to behave with civility, and therefore said, "If,
Sir Knight, you are seeking for a lodging, you will here find, excepting
a bed (for there are none in this inn), everything in abundance." Don
Quixote, perceiving the humility of the governor of the fortress,--for
such to him appeared the innkeeper,--answered, "For me, Signor
Castellano, anything will suffice, since arms are my ornaments, warfare
my repose." The host thought he called him Castellano because he took
him for a sound Castilian, whereas he was an Andalusian of the coast of
St. Lucar, as great a thief as Cacus and not less mischievous than a
collegian or a page; and he replied, "If so, your worship's beds must be
hard rocks, and your sleep continual watching; and that being the case,
you may dismount with a certainty of finding here sufficient cause for
keeping awake the whole year, much more a single night." So saying, he
laid hold of Don Quixote's stirrup, who alighted with much difficulty
and pain, for he had fasted the whole of the day. He then desired the
host to take especial care of his steed, for it was the finest creature
ever fed; the innkeeper examined him, but thought him not so good by
half as his master had represented him. Having led the horse to the
stable he returned to receive the orders of his guest, whom the damsels,
being now reconciled to him, were disarming; they had taken off the back
and breast plates, but endeavored in vain to disengage the gorget, or
take off the counterfeit beaver, which he had fastened with green
ribbons in such a manner that they could not be untied, and he would
upon no account allow them to be cut; therefore he remained all that
night with his helmet on, the strangest and most ridiculous figure
imaginable.
While these light girls, whom he still conceived to be persons of
quality and ladies of the castle, were disarming him, he said to them,
with infinite grace: "Never before was knight so honored by ladies as
Don Quixote, after his departure from his native village! damsels
attended upon him; princesses took charge of his steed! O
Rosinante,--for that, ladies, is the name of my horse, and Don Quixote
de la Mancha my own; although it was not my intention to have discovered
myself until deeds performed in your service should have proclaimed me;
but impelled to make so just an application of that ancient romance of
Lanzarote to my present situation, I have thus prematurely disclosed my
name: yet the time shall come when your ladyships may command, and I
obey; when the valor of my arm shall make manifest the desire I have to
serve you." The girls, unaccustomed to such rhetorical flourishes, made
no reply, but asked whether he would please to eat anything. "I shall