Don Quixote [Trans. by Edith Grossman] (104 page)

“Give them to him, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “not for catching the monkey, but for bending his elbow;
⁸
and I would give two hundred
more as a reward to the person who could tell me with certainty that Señora Doña Melisendra and Señor Don Gaiferos were in France now with their people.”

“No one could tell us that better than my monkey,” said Master Pedro, “but not even the devil can catch him now, though I imagine that affection and hunger will force him to look for me tonight, and God will bring the dawn, and then we’ll see.”

In short, the storm over the puppet show came to an end, and everyone ate supper in peace and good fellowship, at Don Quixote’s expense, for he was generous in the extreme.

Before daybreak the man carrying the lances and halberds left, and shortly after dawn the cousin and the page came to take their leave of Don Quixote: the one to return home and the other to continue his journey, and to help him on his way, Don Quixote gave the page a dozen
reales.
Master Pedro did not wish to engage in further disputes with Don Quixote, whom he knew very well, and so he arose before the sun, and after gathering up the relics of his puppet theater, and his monkey, he also set out to seek adventures. The innkeeper, who did not know Don Quixote, was as astonished by his madness as by his generosity. To conclude, Sancho paid him very well, by order of his master, and when it was almost eight in the morning they said goodbye, left the inn, and took to the road, where we shall leave them, for that will afford us the opportunity to recount other things that are pertinent to the narration of this famous history.

CHAPTER XXVII

Cide Hamete, the chronicler of this great history, begins this chapter with the words
I swear as a Catholic Christian…,
to which his translator says that Cide Hamete swearing as a Catholic Christian when he was a Moor, which he undoubtedly was, meant only that just as the Catholic
Christian, when he swears, swears or should swear the truth, and tell the truth in everything he says, so too he was telling the truth, as if he were swearing as a Catholic Christian, when he wrote about Don Quixote, especially when he told who Master Pedro was, as well as the sooth-saying monkey who had amazed all those towns and villages with his divinations.

He says, then, that whoever read the first part of this history will remember very clearly Ginés de Pasamonte, to whom, along with the other galley slaves, Don Quixote gave his freedom in the Sierra Morena, a charitable act that was repaid with ingratitude and thanklessness by those ill-intentioned and badly behaved people. This Ginés de Pasamonte, whom Don Quixote called Ginesillo de Parapilla, was the man who stole Sancho Panza’s donkey; and since the how and when of that theft were not included in the first part through an error of the printers, many have been led to attribute this printing error to the author’s defective memory. To be brief, Ginés stole the donkey when Sancho was sleeping on its back, using the same trick and device that Brunelo used when Sacripante was at Albraca and he took the horse out from between his legs, and then Sancho recovered the donkey, as has already been recounted. This Ginés, fearful of being captured by the officers of the law who were looking for him so that he could be punished for his infinite deceptions and crimes, so numerous and of such a nature that he himself wrote a long book recounting them, decided to cross into the kingdom of Aragón, cover his left eye, and take up the trade of puppet master, for this and sleight of hand were things he knew extremely well.

It so happened that from a group of freed Christians who had come from Barbary he bought the monkey and taught it to jump onto his shoulder at a certain signal and then whisper, or seem to whisper, in his ear. When he had done this, before he would enter any village where he was taking his puppet theater and monkey, he would learn in a nearby village, or from anyone he could, what specific things had happened in the village and to whom; and after he had committed them to memory, the first thing he did was put on his puppet show, sometimes playing one story and sometimes another, but all of them happy, and joyful, and well-known. When the show was over, he proclaimed the abilities of his monkey, telling the audience that he could see everything past and present, but that he had no skill in divining the future. For the answer to each question he would ask for two
reales,
and for some he lowered the price, depending on the mood of the questioners; on occasion he would stay in
houses where he would know certain incidents that had happened to the people who lived there, and even though they did not ask anything because they did not want to pay, he would signal the monkey and then say that the animal had said something that fit perfectly with those incidents. In this fashion he gained remarkable credibility, and everyone came to see him. On other occasions, since he was so intelligent, he responded so that the answers matched the questions, and since no one examined him or pressed him to say how his monkey could be a soothsayer, he made a monkey of them all and filled his pockets.

As soon as he entered the inn he recognized Don Quixote and Sancho, and this made it easy for him to astound Don Quixote and Sancho Panza and everyone at the inn, but it would have cost him dear if Don Quixote had lowered his hand a little when he cut off King Marsilio’s head and destroyed all his knights, as related in the previous chapter.

This is what there is to say about Master Pedro and his monkey.

Returning to Don Quixote of La Mancha, I will say that after he left the inn, he decided to first see the banks of the Ebro River and the surrounding region before entering the city of Zaragoza, since he had enough time for everything before the tourney began. This was his intention as he traveled along the road, and he rode on it for two days without anything occurring that was worth writing down, and then on the third day, as he was riding up a hill, he heard the loud sounds of drums and trumpets and the firing of harquebuses. At first he thought a regiment of soldiers was passing through, and in order to see them he spurred Rocinante and rode up the hill, and when he reached the top he saw at the foot of the hill what appeared to be more than two hundred men armed with a variety of weapons, such as pikes, crossbows, battle-axes, halberds, lances, a few harquebuses, and a good number of bucklers. He rode down the hillside and came so close to the squadron that he clearly saw the banners, observing the colors and noting the devices they displayed, especially one, a standard or pennant of white satin on which was painted, in a very lifelike manner, a donkey that seemed to be a small Sardinian,
¹
with his head raised, mouth open, and tongue out, as if in the act and posture of braying; around him these two verses were written in large letters:

By means of this emblem Don Quixote assumed that these people were from the braying village, and he told Sancho this as he read to him what was written on the banner. He also said that the man who told them about the matter had erred when he said that it had been two councilmen who brayed, because according to the verses on the banner, they had been mayors. To which Sancho Panza responded:

“Señor, that’s of no importance, because it well might be that the councilmen who brayed in time became the mayors of their villages, and so can be called by both titles, especially since it doesn’t matter to the truth of the history if the brayers were mayors or councilmen, since they really did bray, and a mayor’s as good as a councilman for braying.”

In short, they realized and concluded that the offended village was coming out to do battle with another that had insulted it more than it was proper and fitting for good neighbors to do.

Don Quixote approached them, to the great sorrow of Sancho, who never liked to find himself involved in these kinds of situations. The men in the squadron welcomed him into their midst, believing he was one of their supporters. Don Quixote, raising his visor, rode with a gallant air and bearing up to the standard with the donkey, where the most distinguished men in the army, astounded with the usual astonishment that struck all those who saw him for the first time, gathered round to see him. Don Quixote, finding them so intent on looking at him, but not saying anything to him or asking any questions, wanted to take advantage of their silence by breaking his, and he raised his voice and said:

“Good sirs, as earnestly as I can I beg you not to interrupt a statement I wish to make, unless you see that it offends and angers you; if this should happen, at the smallest sign from you I shall place a seal on my mouth and a clamp on my tongue.”

Everyone told him to say whatever he wished and they would gladly listen to him. With this license, Don Quixote continued, saying:

“I, Señores, am a knight errant whose practice is arms and whose profession is favoring those in need of favor and helping those in distress. Some days ago I learned of your misfortune and the cause that moves you to constantly take up arms and seek revenge against your enemies; and having reflected time and time again on your case, I find that, according to the laws of the duel, you are mistaken in considering yourselves insulted, because no single individual can insult an entire village except by challenging it as a whole with being a traitor, since he does not know
who in particular committed the treasonous act. We have an example of this in Don Diego Ordóñez de Lara,
²
who challenged the entire population of Zamora because he did not know that Vellido Dolfos alone had committed the treason of killing his king, and so he challenged them all, and all were entitled to seek revenge and respond, although it is certainly true that Señor Don Diego took it a little too far and even went beyond the limits of the challenge, for he had no reason to challenge the dead, the water, the loaves of bread, those about to be born, or all the other things that are mentioned there;
³
but then, when anger overcomes mother wit, no father, tutor, or restraint can curb the tongue.

Since it is true that a single individual cannot offend an entire kingdom, province, city, nation, or people, it is evident that there is no reason to come out to avenge the challenge of the offense, for it is not one. Imagine if people from the village of the Reloja were constantly killing those who called them by that name,
⁴
or if the Fusspots, the Eggplant-eaters, the Whalers, the Soapmakers did,
⁵
or any of the other names and nicknames that are always in the mouths of boys and people of little worth! Imagine if all these noble towns were to take offense and seek vengeance, their swords, like the slide on a sackbut, constantly going in and out in any dispute, no matter how trivial! No, no, God would not permit nor desire that. Prudent men and well-ordered nations take up arms and unsheathe their swords and risk their persons, lives, and fortunes for only four reasons: first, in defense of the Catholic faith; second, in self-defense, which is a natural and divine law; third, in defense of their honor, their family, and their fortune; fourth, to serve their king in a just war; and if we wish to add a fifth, which can be considered the second, it is in defense of their country. To these five capital causes we can add a few others that are just and reasonable and oblige men to take up arms, but anyone who does so for trifles and matters that are more laughable and amusing than insulting seems to lack all good sense; moreover, taking unjust revenge, and no
revenge can be just, is directly contrary to the holy law we profess, which commands us to do good to our enemies and love those who hate us, a commandment that, although it seems somewhat difficult to obey, is not, except for those who care less for God than for the world, and more for the flesh than for the spirit; because Jesus Christ, God and true man, who never lied, nor could He lie, nor can He, being our lawgiver, said that His yoke was gentle and His burden light; and so, He would not command something that was impossible to obey. Therefore, Señores, your graces are obliged by divine and human laws to make peace.”

“The devil take me,” said Sancho to himself, “if this master of mine isn’t a theologian, and if he isn’t, then he’s as much like one as two peas in a pod.”

Don Quixote took a breath, and seeing that they were still listening silently, he wished to continue his speech, and would have if Sancho, with his usual keenness, had not intervened when, seeing that his master had paused, he began to speak, saying:

“My master, Don Quixote of La Mancha, who was once called
The Knight of the Sorrowful Face
and is now called
The Knight of the Lions
, is a very prudent gentleman who knows Latin and Spanish like a bachelor, and in all his dealings and advice he proceeds like a very good soldier, and he knows all the laws and rules about what is called dueling like the back of his hand, and so there’s nothing else to do but listen to what he says, and if you’re wrong, let it be on my head, especially since they say that it’s foolish to lose your temper just because you hear somebody bray; I remember, when I was boy, I used to bray whenever I felt like it, and nobody held me back, and I did it so well and so perfectly that when I brayed all the donkeys in the village brayed, but that didn’t stop me from being my parents’ son, and they were very honorable people, and even though this talent of mine was envied by more than a few of the conceited boys in my village, I didn’t care at all. And so that you can see that I’m telling the truth, wait and listen, because if you know this, it’s like knowing how to swim: once you’ve learned you never forget.”

And then he held his nose and began to bray so enthusiastically that all the nearby valleys resonated with the sound. But one of the men who was near him, thinking he was mocking them, raised a long pole that he had in his hand and hit him so hard with it that he knocked Sancho Panza to the ground, senseless. Don Quixote, who saw Sancho so badly treated, turned, his lance in hand, on the man who had hit him, but so many men came between them that it was not possible to avenge his
squire; instead, seeing that a storm of stones came raining down on him, and that he was being threatened by a thousand crossbows and a similar number of harquebuses, all of them aimed at him, he turned Rocinante’s reins and as fast as his best gallop could carry him, Don Quixote rode away, praying to God with all his heart to save him from that danger, and fearing at each step that a bullet would enter at his back and come out of his chest; at every moment he would take a breath to see if he still could.