Chap. XI The Sequel of Don Quixote’s Curious Discourse, on the Subjects of Learning and War
The knight proceeded thus: ‘Since we began with the student, representing his poverty in all its circumstances, let us see if the soldier be more wealthy: and we shall find that poverty itself is not poorer; for he is restricted to his miserable pay, which comes always late, if ever, or to what he can plunder by force with the imminent danger of his life and conscience; and frequently his nakedness is such, that his slashed buff doublet serves him instead of coat, shirt, and all other parts of apparel. In a winter campaign, while he remains in the open field, he has nothing to mitigate the severity of the cold, but his own breath, which, as it proceeds from an empty place, must, I believe, be cold, contrary to all the rules of nature: but stay till the approach of night, when it is to be hoped his bed will make amends for all these inconveniencies; and this, if it be not his own fault, will never offend in point of narrowness, for he may measure as many feet of ground as he thinks sufficient, and there tumble about at pleasure, without any danger of discomposing the sheets. Then, instead of the day and hour of receiving the degrees of his art, comes the day of battle, in which his head is adorned with the doctoral tossle, made in form of a pledgit, to stuff the wound made by some ball, which perhaps hath gone through his temples, or left him maimed of a leg or arm; and even if this should not happen, but merciful Heaven guard and preserve him safe and sound, he continues as poor as ever; he must risk himself in several more rencounters and battles, and be victorious in each, before his circumstances be bettered; but these miracles rarely happen. Tell me, gentlemen, have you considered what a small proportion those who make their fortunes by war bear to those who perish in the field? Doubtless, you must answer that there is no sort of comparison; that the slain are scarce to be numbered, while the living who are recompensed for their services, may be comprehended within three figures of arithmetick99. The case of the learned is quite the reverse100; for, one way or another, they are all provided: so that, though the toil of a soldier is greater, his reward is much less. To this observation, it may be replied, that it is far more easy to reward two thousand scholars than thirty thousand soldiers; for the first are recompensed with offices, which must of course be bestowed on people of their profession; whereas, the others can enjoy no reward, except a share of the property belonging to their master whom they serve: even this impossibility strengthens my asseveration.
‘But waving that consideration, which would lead us into a most intricate labyrinth, let us return to the pre-eminence which arms have over learning; a point hitherto undecided, of such force are the reasons alledged on both sides of the question; one of which, in favour of the last, is, that without letters, the profession of arms could not be supported, because there are laws to which war itself is subject; and all laws fall within the province of letters and learned men. To this observation, the partizans of the other opinion reply, that no laws could be maintained without arms, which preserve the constitution, defend kingdoms, guard cities, scour the highways, and clear the seas of piratical corsairs. In short, that without arms, all republicks, kingdoms, monarchies, cities, journies by land, and voyages by sea, would be exposed to the horror and confusion that attend unbridled war, while it continues in all its licentious privilege and force. It is a general and established maxim, that every thing ought to be esteemed in proportion to what it costs. Now, to become eminent in letters, costs the student much time, watching, hunger, nakedness, vertigoes, indigestion, and their consequences, which are in part mentioned above: but, to acquire in a regular manner the character of a good soldier, a man must undergo all these inconveniences in an incomparably greater degree; because he is every moment in danger of losing his life. What fear of indigence and poverty can seize and harrass the student’s apprehension, equal to that which must possess the soldier besieged in a fortress, who being placed centinel or guard in some ravelin or cavalier101, perceives the enemy at work undermining the very spot whereon he stands, without daring to stir from his post, or avoid the danger by which he is so imminently threatened? All he can do, is to give notice of what passes to his captain, who must endeavour to baffle the foe by some countermine, while he remains upon the place in terror and expectation of being suddenly whirled aloft into the clouds without wings, and of falling thence headlong into the profound abyss: if this danger seems inconsiderable, let us see whether it be equalled or exceeded in the grappling of two gallies, by their prows, in the midst of the extended ocean; when they are locked and fastened into each other, and the soldier hath not an inch more than two feet of the beak to stand upon, while he sees himself threatened and opposed by as many ministers of death as there are cannon in the enemy’s vessel, and these within a spear’s length of his body; and is sensible, that if his feet should chance to slip, he would instantly visit the profound bosom of the sea; yet, nevertheless, with an intrepid heart, incited and transported by honour, he bears the brunt of their whole artillery, and endeavours by that narrow passage to board the adverse vessel; and, what is very much to be admired, is, that as soon as one falls, never to rise again till the general resurrection, another occupies his place; and should he also drop into the sea, which, like an enemy, gapes to devour him, another and another still succeeds, without the smallest intermission: an instance of gallantry and boldness the greatest to be found in all the extremities of war. Happy were the ages past, while strangers to those infernal instruments of artillery, the author of which is, I firmly believe, now in hell, enjoying the reward of his diabolical invention, that puts it in the power of an infamous coward to deprive the most valiant cavalier of life; for, often in the heat of that courage and resolution that fires and animates the gallant breast, there comes a random ball, how or from whence no man can tell, shot off, perhaps, by one that fled, and was afraid at the flash of his own accursed machine, and, in an instant, puts an end to the schemes and exigence of a man who deserved to live for ages. This very consideration makes me almost own, that I am sorry for having chosen this profession of a knight-errant in this detestable age; for, though no danger can daunt my resolution, it gives me some uneasiness to think that powder and shot may deprive me of the opportunity of making myself famous and renowned through the whole globe, for the valour of my arm, and the keenness of my sword: but, let the will of Heaven be fulfilled! if I accomplish my aim, I shall be more esteemed, because I have faced more danger than ever was incurred by the knights-errant in ages past.’
While the rest of the company were employed in eating, this long harangue was uttered by Don Quixote, who never thought of swallowing a morsel; though Sancho frequently put him in mind of eating his supper, observing, that he would afterwards have time enough to say what he pleased. The hearers were moved with fresh concern, at seeing a man, who in every other subject seemed to have a large share of sense and discernment, lose it so irrecoverably, whenever the discourse turned upon the cursed mischievous theme of chivalry. The curate observed, that there was a great deal of reason in what he had advanced in favour of arms; and that he himself, though a graduate, consequently a man of letters, was entirely of the knight’s opinion.
Supper being ended, and the table uncovered, while the landlady, her daughter, and Maritornes, were busied in fitting up the garret of Don Quixote de La Mancha, in which it was determined the three ladies should pass the night by themselves; Don Fernando intreated the captive to recount the story of his life, which he imagined must be both uncommon and entertaining, from the specimen they had already seen, in his arriving thus equipped, in company with the fair Zorayda. To this request the stranger answered, that he would willingly obey his command, though he was afraid the company would not find the relation to their liking; but, nevertheless, rather than fail in point of obedience, he was ready to make it. The curate and whole company thanked him for his complaisance, and joined in the request; and he seeing himself besought by so many, said there was no occasion for entreaties, where they might so effectually command: ‘Lend me your attention, therefore, and you shall hear a true story, perhaps unequalled by those fictions which are usually adorned with all the curious and profound artifice of composition.’
At this preamble, all present adjusted and composed themselves; and he perceiving the general silence in which they waited for the performance of his promise, began in this manner, with a grave and agreeable voice.