Read Don Quixote [Trans. by Edith Grossman] Online
Authors: Miguel de Cervantes
Tags: #Fiction, #Classics, #Literary, #Knights and knighthood, #Spain, #Literary Criticism, #Spanish & Portuguese, #European, #Don Quixote (Fictitious character)
Don Quixote [Trans. by Edith Grossman] (86 page)
“Perhaps, Sancho,” responded Don Quixote, “the enchantment does not go so far as to take knowledge of Dulcinea from the vanquished giants and knights who appear before her; with one or two of the first ones I vanquish and send to her, we shall determine if they see her or not by commanding them to return and recount to me what happened to them in this regard.”
“I’ll tell you, Señor,” replied Sancho, “that I think what your grace has said is fine, and with this plan we’ll find out just what we want to know; and if she’s hidden only from your grace, the misfortune is more your grace’s than hers; but as long as the lady Dulcinea has health and happiness, we’ll resign ourselves and do the best we can, looking for our adventures and letting time do its work, for it’s the best doctor for these ailments and others that are even worse.”
Don Quixote wanted to respond to Sancho Panza, but he was pre-
vented from doing so by a cart that came out across the road, filled with the most diverse and peculiar personages and figures that one could imagine. The one guiding the mules and serving as the driver of the cart was a hideous demon. The cart was open to the sky, without any covering of canvas or reeds. The first figure that appeared to Don Quixote’s eyes was that of Death himself, with a human face; next to him was an angel with large painted wings; to one side was an emperor wearing a crown, apparently of gold, on his head; at the feet of Death was the god called Cupid, without a blindfold but holding his bow, quiver, and arrows. There was a knight in full armor except that he had no helmet or sallet but wore a hat with many plumes of diverse colors; accompanying these persons were others with various outfits and countenances. All of which, seen without warning, agitated Don Quixote somewhat, and put fear in Sancho’s heart; but then Don Quixote was glad, believing that a new and dangerous adventure was upon him, and with this thought, and a spirit prepared to face any peril, he stopped in front of the cart, and in a loud, menacing voice he said:
“Cartman, wagon driver, devil, or whatever you are, tell me immediately who you are, and where you are going, and who are the people you are carrying in your wagon, which looks more like Charon’s boat than like any ordinary cart.”
To which the devil, stopping the cart, gently replied:
“Señor, we are actors in Angulo el Malo’s company; this morning, which is the eighth day of Corpus Christi, in a town located behind that hill, we performed the mystery play
The Assembly of Death,
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and we are to perform it this afternoon in the town you can see over there, and because it is so close, and to save ourselves the trouble of taking off our costumes and putting them on again, we are dressed in the same clothes we perform in. That young man plays Death; the other one, the Angel; that woman, who is married to the manager, plays the Queen; this one is the Soldier; that one, the Emperor; I play the Demon, and I am one of the principal figures in the play, because in this company I play the leading roles. If your grace wishes to know anything else about us, ask me, and I will respond in every particular; since I am a devil, all things are within my grasp.”
“By my faith as a knight errant,” responded Don Quixote, “as soon as I saw this wagon I imagined that a great adventure was awaiting me, and now I say that it is necessary to touch appearances with one’s hand to
avoid being deceived. Go with God, my good people, and have your festival, and consider if there is any way in which I can be of service to you, and I shall do it gladly and willingly, because ever since I was a boy I have enjoyed the theater, and in my youth I was a great lover of plays.”
As luck would have it, while they were having this conversation a member of the company came up to them, and he was dressed as a fool, wearing a good number of bells, and at the end of a stick he was carrying there were three inflated cow bladders; this buffoon approached Don Quixote and began to fence with the stick and hit the ground with the bladders and leap high into the air, shaking his bells; this terrible sight so alarmed Rocinante that, without Don Quixote being able to stop him, he took the bit between his teeth and began to run across the field with more speed than was ever promised by the bones of his anatomy. Sancho, who considered the danger that Don Quixote would be thrown, jumped off his donkey and ran as fast as he could to help him, but when he reached him Don Quixote was already on the ground, and next to him lay Rocinante, who had fallen along with his master: the usual finale and conclusion of Rocinante’s exuberance and bold exploits.
But as soon as Sancho had left his mount to assist Don Quixote, the demon dancer jumped on the donkey and began to hit him with the bladders, and fear and the noise, more than the pain of the blows, made the donkey fly across the countryside to the town where the festival was to be held. Sancho looked at his racing donkey and his fallen master and did not know which of the two problems he should take care of first; but, in fact, because he was a good squire and a good servant, love for his master won out over affection for his donkey, although each time he saw the bladders go up in the air and come down on his donkey’s rump, he suffered the torments and terrors of death and would rather have had those blows fall on his own eyes than touch a hair of his donkey’s tail. In this perplexity and tribulation, he reached Don Quixote, who was much more bruised and battered than he would have wished, and helping him to mount Rocinate, he said:
“Señor, the devil has made off with my donkey.”
“What devil?” asked Don Quixote.
“The one with the bladders,” responded Sancho.
“Then I shall get him back,” replied Don Quixote, “even if he takes him down to the deepest and darkest pits of hell. Follow me, Sancho, for the cart is traveling slowly, and I shall compensate for the loss of the donkey with the mules.”
“There’s no need to go to all that trouble, Señor,” responded Sancho.
“Your grace should calm your anger, for it seems to me the devil has left the donkey and gone back to his lair.”
And this was true, because after the devil had fallen off the donkey in imitation of Don Quixote and Rocinante, the devil went on foot to the town, and the donkey returned to his master.
“Even so,” said Don Quixote, “it would be a good idea to punish the discourtesy of that demon by chastising someone in the cart, even the Emperor himself.”
“Your grace should put that thought out of your mind,” replied Sancho, “and take my advice, which is never to interfere with actors, for they are favored people. I have seen an actor arrested for two deaths and then be released, and no fines. Your grace should know that since they are good-natured and give pleasure to people, everyone favors them, everyone protects and helps and admires them, especially if they’re in one of the royal companies with an official license, and all of them, or most of them, look like princes in their costumes and makeup.”
“Well, all the same,” responded Don Quixote, “the actor demon is not going to exit to applause, even if the entire human race should favor him.”
And saying this, he returned to the cart, which by this time was very close to the town. He was shouting as he approached, saying:
“Stop, wait, you happy and cheerful throng, for I want to make you understand how you are supposed to treat the donkeys and animals that serve as mounts to the squires of knights errant.”
Don Quixote’s shouts were so loud that the people in the cart heard and understood them; and judging by his words the intention of the man who was saying them, in an instant Death jumped out of the cart, and behind him, the Emperor, the Demon cart driver, and the Angel, and the Queen and the god Cupid did not stay behind, and all of them picked up stones and stood in a line, waiting to receive Don Quixote with the sharp edges of their pebbles. Don Quixote, who saw them arranged in so gallant a squadron, their arms raised and ready to throw the stones with great force, pulled on Rocinante’s reins and began to think about how he could attack them with less risk to his person. When he stopped, Sancho approached, and seeing him prepared to attack the orderly squadron, he said:
“It would be crazy to attempt this adventure: your grace should consider, Señor, that for pebbles and stones, there’s no defensive weapon in the world except to squeeze into a bronze bell and hide there; you should also consider that there is more rashness than courage in a single man attacking an army that has Death in it, and emperors fighting in person, and the help of good and bad angels; and if this doesn’t move you to stay put,
then remember that among all those people, even though they seem to be kings, princes, and emperors, there’s not one knight errant.”
“Now, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “you have hit on the point that can and must move me from my determined intention. I cannot and must not draw my sword, as I have told you many times in the past, against anyone who has not been dubbed a knight. It falls to you, Sancho, if you wish to take revenge for the affront committed against your donkey; I shall assist you from here with helpful words and advice.”
“There’s no need, Señor,” responded Sancho, “to take revenge against anyone, since it’s not right for good Christians to take revenge for affronts; besides, I’ll convince my donkey to let me take care of the insult, and my desire is to live peaceably for all the days of life that heaven will grant me.”
“Well, if that is your decision,” replied Don Quixote, “good Sancho, wise Sancho, Christian Sancho, sincere Sancho, let us leave these phantoms and again seek better and more appropriate adventures, for I see that this land is the kind that cannot fail to offer many that are quite miraculous.”
Then he pulled on the reins and turned Rocinante around, Sancho caught his donkey, Death and all of his flying squadron returned to their cart and continued on their way, and this was the happy conclusion to the fearful adventure of the cart of Death, thanks to the salutary advice that Sancho Panza gave to his master, who the next day had another adventure, no less suspenseful than the previous one, with an enamored knight errant.
Regarding the strange adventure that befell the valiant Don Quixote and the courageous Knight of the Mirrors
Don Quixote and his squire spent the night that followed the day of their encounter with Death beneath some tall shade trees, and Don Quixote, having been persuaded by Sancho, ate some of the provisions carried by the donkey, and during their supper Sancho said to his master:
“Señor, what a fool I would’ve been if I’d chosen the spoils of the first
adventure your grace completed as my reward instead of your three mares’ foals! It’s true, it’s true: a bird in hand is worth two in the bush.”
“Even so,” responded Don Quixote, “if you, Sancho, had allowed me to attack as I wished to, at the very least you would have had as spoils the gold crown of the Empress and the painted wings of Cupid, for I would have taken them by force and placed them in your hands.”
“The scepters and crowns of actor-emperors,” responded Sancho Panza, “are never pure gold but only tinsel or tinplate.”
“That is true,” replied Don Quixote, “because it would not be proper if the finery in plays were really valuable instead of merely illusory and apparent, as the plays themselves are; I want you, Sancho, to think well and to have a good opinion of plays, and to be equally well-disposed toward those who perform them and those who write them, because they are all the instruments whereby a great service is performed for the nation, holding up a mirror to every step we take and allowing us to see a vivid image of the actions of human life; there is no comparison that indicates what we are and what we should be more clearly than plays and players. If you do not agree, then tell me: have you ever seen a play that presents kings, emperors, and pontiffs, knights, ladies, and many other characters? One plays the scoundrel, another the liar, this one the merchant, that one the soldier, another the wise fool, yet another the foolish lover, but when the play is over and they have taken off their costumes, all the actors are equal.”
“Yes, I have seen that,” responded Sancho.
“Well, the same thing happens in the drama and business of this world, where some play emperors, others pontiffs, in short, all the figures that can be presented in a play, but at the end, which is when life is over, death removes all the clothing that differentiated them, and all are equal in the grave.”
“That’s a fine comparison,” said Sancho, “though not so new that I haven’t heard it many times before, like the one about chess: as long as the game lasts, each piece has its particular rank and position, but when the game’s over they’re mixed and jumbled and thrown together in a bag, just the way life is tossed into the grave.”
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“Every day, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “you are becoming less simple and more intelligent.”
“Yes, some of your grace’s intelligence has to stick to me,” responded Sancho, “for lands that are barren and dry on their own can produce good fruits if you spread manure on them and till them; I mean to say that your grace’s conversation has been the manure that has fallen on the barren soil of my dry wits; the time I have served you and talked to you has been the tilling; and so I hope to produce fruits that are a blessing and do not go to seed or stray from the paths of good cultivation that your grace has made in my parched understanding.”
Don Quixote laughed at Sancho’s pretentious words but thought that what he said about the change in him was true, because from time to time he spoke in a manner that amazed Don Quixote, although almost always, when Sancho wanted to speak in an erudite and courtly way, his words would plummet from the peaks of his simplicity into the depths of his ignorance; the area in which he displayed the most elegance and the best memory was in his use of proverbs, regardless of whether or not they had anything to do with the subject, as has been seen and noted in the course of this history.
They spent a good part of the night in this and other exchanges like it, until Sancho felt the desire to drop the gates of his eyes, as he said when he wanted to sleep, and, after unharnessing the donkey, he allowed him to graze freely on the abundant grass. He did not remove Rocinante’s saddle, for his master had expressly ordered that for the time they were out in the countryside or did not sleep under a roof, he should not unharness Rocinante: an ancient custom established and maintained by knights errant was to remove the bit and hang it from the saddlebow, but taking the saddle off the horse? Never! And so this is what Sancho did, and he gave Rocinante the same freedom he had given the donkey, for their friendship was so unusual and so firm that it has been claimed, in a tradition handed down from fathers to sons, that the author of this true history devoted particular chapters to it, but for the sake of maintaining the decency and decorum so heroic a history deserves, he did not include them, although at times he is remiss in his purpose and writes that as soon as the two animals were together they would begin to scratch each other, and then, when they were tired and satisfied, Rocinante would lay his neck across the donkey’s—it would extend almost half a meter on the other side—and, staring intently at the ground, the two of them could stand this way for three days or, at least, for as long as they were permitted to do so or were not compelled by hunger to look for food.