Don Quixote [Trans. by Edith Grossman] (123 page)

“All these misfortunes have occurred, O hardhearted knight, because of the sin of your harshness and obstinacy; may it please God that Sancho your squire forgets to flog himself so that your dearly beloved Dulcinea never is released from her enchantment, and you never enjoy her, or come to your nuptial bed with her, at least as long as I live, for I adore you.”

To all of this Don Quixote did not respond except to heave a deep sigh, and then he lay down on his bed, thanking the duke and duchess for their kindness, not because he had been afraid of that enchanted feline and belline horde, but because he had realized the good intentions with which they had come to his assistance. The duke and duchess allowed him to rest and left, saddened by the unfortunate outcome of their joke, but they did not believe that the adventure would turn out to be so painful and costly for Don Quixote, who had to spend five days confined to his bed, where another adventure befell him that was more pleasant than the last one, which his historian does not wish to recount now in order to return to Sancho Panza, who was proceeding very diligently and very comically in his governorship.

CHAPTER XLVII

The history recounts that Sancho Panza was taken from the courtroom to a sumptuous palace, where, in a large hall, a royal and extremely clean table was set; as soon as Sancho entered the hall, there was a sound of flageolets, and four pages came out with water to wash his hands, which Sancho received with great solemnity.

The music ceased, and Sancho sat down at the head of the table because that was the only chair and the only place laid on the entire table. A personage, who later proved to be a physician, came to stand at his side, holding a rod of whalebone in his hand. They lifted the fine white cloth that covered the fruit and a wide variety of dishes holding different foods; one man who looked like a student said the blessing, and a page put a bib trimmed in lace on Sancho; another who was performing the duties of a butler placed a dish of fruit in front of him; he had barely eaten a mouthful when the man with the rod used it to touch the dish, and it was taken away with extraordinary speed, but the butler placed another dish of different food in front of him. Sancho was about to try it, but before he could reach it and taste it, the rod had touched it and a
page removed it as quickly as the fruit had been taken away. When he saw this, Sancho was perplexed, and looking at everyone, he asked if the dinner was to be eaten like a conjuring trick. To which the man with the rod responded:

“It must be eaten, Señor Governor, according to the traditions and customs of other ínsulas where there are governors. I, Señor, am a physician, and on this ínsula I am paid to tend to its governors, and I care for their health much more than I do my own, studying day and night, and observing the governor’s constitution and temperament in order to successfully cure him if he should fall ill; and the principal thing I do is to be present at his dinners and suppers, and allow him to eat what seems appropriate to me, and to take away what I imagine will do him harm and be injurious to his stomach; and so I ordered the dish of fruit removed because it was too damp, and the other dish as well because it was too hot and had a good number of spices, which increase thirst, and if one drinks too much, one destroys and consumes the radical humor, which is to say, life.”
¹

“So that means that the dish of roasted partridges over there, nicely seasoned, it seems to me, won’t do me any harm.”

To which the physician responded:

“The governor will not eat them as long as I am alive.”

“But why?” said Sancho.

And the physician responded:

“Because our master Hippocrates, the polestar and light of medicine, says in one of his aphorisms:
Omnis saturatio mala, perdicis autem pessima.
Which means: ‘A full stomach is bad, but a stomach full of partridges is very bad.’”
²

“If that’s true,” said Sancho, “then see, Señor Doctor, which of the dishes on this table will do me the most good and which the least harm, and let me eat it without you tapping it, because by my life as a governor, and may God allow me to enjoy it, I am dying of hunger, and denying me food, no matter what you tell me, Señor Doctor, means taking my life instead of lengthening it.”

“Your grace is correct, Señor Governor,” responded the physician, “and so, it is my opinion that your grace should not eat the rabbit stew
over there because that is a long-haired animal. You could have tasted the veal, if it hadn’t been roasted and marinated, but it’s out of the question now.”

And Sancho said:

“That big bowl steaming over there looks to me like
olla podrida,
³
and because those stews have so many different kinds of things in them, I can’t help but come across something that I’ll like and that will be good for me.”

“Absit!”
⁴
said the physician. “May so wicked a thought be far from us: there is nothing in the world less nourishing than an
olla podrida.
Let
ollas podridas
be for canons or rectors of colleges or peasant weddings, and keep them away from the tables of governors, where all things exquisite and elegant should be present; the reason is that simple medicines are always more highly esteemed than compound ones, everywhere and by everyone, because there can be no error in simple medicines, but there can be in compound ones, simply by changing the amounts of the things of which they are compounded; but I know that what the governor must eat now in order to preserve and fortify his health is a hundred rolled wafers and some very thin slices of quince, which will settle his stomach and help his digestion.”

Hearing this, Sancho leaned back in his chair and stared fixedly at the physician and in a solemn voice asked him what his name was and where he had studied. To which he responded:

“My name, Señor Governor, is Dr. Pedro Recio de Agüero, and I am a native of a town called Tirteafuera, which is between Caracuel and Almodóvar del Campo, on the right-hand side, and I hold the degree of doctor from the University of Osuna.”
⁵

To which Sancho, in a rage, responded:

“Well, Señor Doctor Pedro Recio de Mal Agüero,
⁶
native of Tirteafuera, a village that’s on the right as we go from Caracuel to Almodóvar del Campo, graduated from Osuna, get out of my sight, and if you don’t, I swear by the sun that I’ll take a cudgel, and starting with you, I’ll beat all the doctors so hard there won’t be a single one left anywhere on the ín
sula, at least the ones I know to be ignorant, because wise, prudent, and intelligent doctors I’ll respect and honor as if they were divine. And again I say that you should leave here, Pedro Recio, otherwise I’ll take this chair that I’m sitting on and smash it over your head, and they can bring charges against me and I’ll clear myself by saying that I did a service for God when I killed a bad doctor, who’s the same as an executioner. Now, all of you, give me something to eat, otherwise take your governorship back, because an office that doesn’t give a man food to eat isn’t worth two beans.”

The physician became very agitated when he saw the governor so enraged, and he wanted to do a
tirteafuera
from the hall, but at that moment a post horn sounded in the street, and the butler went to look out the window and then returned, saying:

“A courier has come from my lord the duke; he must be carrying an important dispatch.”

The courier came in, perspiring and intimidated, and after taking a sealed letter from inside his shirt, he placed it in the hands of the governor, and Sancho placed it in those of the steward, whom he ordered to read the address, which said:
To Don Sancho Panza, governor of the Ínsula Barataria, to be delivered into his own hands or those of his secretary.
Hearing this, Sancho said:

“Who here is my secretary?”

And one of those present responded:

“I am, Señor, because I know how to read and write, and because I’m Basque.”
⁷

“With that little addition,” said Sancho, “you could be secretary to the emperor himself. Open that letter and see what it says.”

The newly born secretary did so, and having read what it said, he said it was a matter that required privacy. Sancho ordered the hall cleared, with only the steward and the butler remaining; all the rest, including the physician, left, and then the secretary read the letter, which said:

Sancho was astounded, as all the bystanders seemed to be as well, and turning to the steward, he said:

“What has to be done now, and done right away, is to put Dr. Recio in jail, because if anybody’s going to kill me, it’ll be him, with the slow, painful death that comes from starvation.”

“It also seems to me,” said the butler, “that your grace shouldn’t eat anything that is on this table because it was prepared by nuns, and as the saying goes, behind the cross lurks the devil.”

“I don’t deny it,” responded Sancho, “and for now give me a piece of bread and about four pounds of grapes, because they really can’t be poisoned, and I can’t get by without eating, and if we have to be ready for those battles that are threatening us, we’ll need to be well-fed, because a full belly gives you courage and not the other way around. And you, Secretary, answer my lord the duke and tell him that all his orders will be carried out as ordered, to the letter; and send my lady the duchess a kiss on the hand from me, and say that I beg her not to forget to send a messenger with my letter and my bundle to my wife, Teresa Panza, and I’ll be very grateful, and I’ll be sure to serve her to the best of my ability; and while you’re at it you can include a kiss on the hand for my master, Don Quixote of La Mancha, so that he can see that I’m grateful; and you, like a good secretary and a good Basque, can add anything you want that’s to the point. Now clear the table and give me something to eat, and then I’ll take on all the spies and killers and enchanters who want to attack me and my ínsula.”

At this moment a page came in and said:

“There’s a farmer here, a petitioner, who wants to talk to your lordship about a matter that he says is very important.”

“It’s strange,” said Sancho, “about these petitioners. Is it possible they’re so foolish they can’t see that this isn’t the right time of day to come with their petitions? By some chance aren’t those of us who are
governors and judges men of flesh and blood, too, and don’t we need to have time to rest, or do they think we’re made of marble? By God and my conscience, if my governorship lasts (and I have an idea it won’t), I’ll get these petitioners under control. Now tell this good man to come in, but make sure first that he isn’t one of those spies, or a killer who wants to murder me.”

“No, Señor,” responded the page, “because he seems a simple soul, and either I don’t know much or he’s as good as a piece of bread.”

“There’s nothing to fear,” said the steward. “We’re all here.”

“Butler, would it be possible,” said Sancho, “now that Dr. Pedro Recio isn’t here, for me to eat something with a little more weight and substance, even if it’s a piece of bread and an onion?”

“Tonight the supper will make up for the defects in your dinner, and your lordship will be well-satisfied and content,” said the butler.

“May God grant us that,” responded Sancho.

And at this point the farmer came in, a man of very decent appearance, and from a thousand leagues away one could see that he was honest and a good soul. The first thing he said was:

“Which one of you is the governor?”

“Who else would it be,” responded the secretary, “except the one who’s sitting on the chair?”

“Then I humble myself in his presence,” said the farmer.

And going down on his knees, he asked for Sancho’s hand to kiss. Sancho refused and ordered him to stand and tell him what he wanted. The farmer complied and said:

“Señor, I’m a farmer, a native of Miguel Turra, a village two leagues from Ciudad Real.”

“We have another Tirteafuera!” said Sancho. “Go on, brother, for I can tell you that I know Miguel Turra very well, and it’s not very far from my village.”

“Well, Señor, the fact is,” the farmer continued, “that I, by the grace of God, am married with the blessing and consent of the Holy Roman Catholic Church; I have two sons who are students: the younger is studying for his bachelor’s degree and the older one for his licentiate; I’m a widower because my wife died, or I should say, a bad doctor killed her, purging her when she was pregnant, and if it had been God’s will for the child to be born, and if it had been a boy, I would have had him study medicine so he wouldn’t be envious of his brothers, the bachelor and the licentiate.”

“Which means,” said Sancho, “that if your wife hadn’t died, or hadn’t been killed, you wouldn’t be a widower now.”

“No, Señor, not at all,” responded the farmer.

“Well, that’s a fine thing!” replied Sancho. “Go on, brother, because now’s the time for sleep, not petitions.”

“Well, I’ll tell you,” said the farmer, “that my son who’s studying to be a bachelor fell in love with a maiden from our village named Clara Perlerina, the daughter of Andrés Perlerino, a very rich farmer; and this name of Perlerín doesn’t come to them from their ancestry or family, but because everyone in this lineage is palsied, and to improve the name they’re called Perlerín,
⁸
though if truth be told, the maiden is like an Oriental pearl, and looked at from the right side she seems a flower of the field; from the left side it’s a different story, because she lost that eye when she had smallpox; and though she has many large pockmarks on her face, those who love her dearly say that those aren’t pockmarks but the graves where the souls of her suitors are buried. She’s so clean that in order not to dirty her face her nose, as they say, is so turned up that it looks like it’s running away from her mouth; and still she looks extremely attractive because her mouth is large, and if it weren’t missing ten or twelve teeth, it would be counted and considered as one of the best formed. I have nothing to say about her lips, because they’re so thin and delicate that if it were usual to wind lips, they could be made into a nice skein, but since their color’s different from the one commonly found in lips, they seem miraculous, because they’re a mottled blue, green, and purple; and, Señor Governor, please forgive me for painting in so much detail the traits of the woman who, in the long run, is going to be my daughter, because I love her dearly and think she’s fine.”