Volume the First
Part I
Book I
Chap. I Of the Quality and Amusements of the Renowned Don Quixote de la Mancha
In a certain corner of La Mancha, the name of which I do not chuse to remember, there lately lived one of those country gentlemen, who adorn their halls with a rusty lance and worm-eaten target, and ride forth on the skeleton of a horse, to course with a sort of a starved greyhound.
Three-fourths of his income were scarce sufficient to afford a dish of hodgepodge, in which the mutton bore no proportion to the beef15, for dinner; a plate of salmagundy, commonly at supper16; gripes and grumblings on Saturdays17, lentils on Fridays, and the addition of a pigeon or some such thing on the Lord’s day. The remaining part of his revenue was consumed in the purchase of a fine black suit, with velvet breeches, and slippers of the same, for holidays; and a coat of home-spun, which he wore in honour of his country during the rest of the week.
He maintained a female housekeeper turned of forty, a niece of about half that age, and a trusty young fellow, fit for field and market, who could turn his hand to any thing, either to saddle the horse or handle the hough18.
Our squire, who bordered upon fifty, was of a tough constitution, extremely meagre, and hard featured, an early riser, and in point of exercise, another Nimrod19. He is said to have gone by the name of Quixada, or Quesada, (for in this particular the authors who mention that circumstance disagree) though, from the most probable conjectures, we may conclude that he was called by the significant name of Quixada20; but this is of small importance to the history, in the course of which it will be sufficient if we swerve not a tittle from the truth.
Be it known, therefore, that this said honest gentleman, at his leisure hours, which engrossed the greatest part of the year, addicted himself to the reading of books of chivalry, which he perused with such rapture and application, that he not only forgot the pleasures of the chace, but also utterly neglected the management of his estate: nay, to such a pass did his curiosity and madness in this particular drive him, that he sold many good acres of Terra Firma, to purchase books of knight-errantry, with which he furnished his library to the utmost of his power; but none of them pleased him so much as those that were written by the famous Feliciano De Silva, whom he admired as the pearl of all authors, for the brilliancy of his prose, and the beautiful perplexity of his expression. How was he transported, when he read those amorous complaints, and doughty challenges, that so often occur in his works!
‘The reason of the unreasonable usage my reason has met with, so unreasons my reason, that I have reason to complain of your beauty!’ And how did he enjoy the following flower of composition! ‘The high heaven of your divinity, which with stars divinely fortifies your beauty, and renders you meritorious of that merit, which by your highness is merited.’
The poor gentleman lost his senses in poring over, and attempting to discover the meaning of these and other such rhapsodies, which Aristotle himself would not be able to unravel, were he to rise from the dead for that purpose only. He could not comprehend the probability of those direful wounds, given and received by Don Bellianis, whose face and whose carcase must have remained quite covered with marks and scars, even allowing him to have been cured by the most expert surgeons of the age in which he lived.
He, notwithstanding, bestowed great commendations on the author, who concludes his book, with the promise of finishing that interminable adventure; and was more than once inclined to seize the quill, with a view of performing what was left undone; nay, he would have actually accomplished the affair, and published it accordingly, had not reflections of greater moment employed his imagination, and diverted him from the execution of that design.
Divers and obstinate were the disputes he maintained against the parson of the parish, (a man of some learning, who had taken his degrees at Siguenza21,) on that puzzling question, whether Palmerin of England, or Amadis De Gaul, was the most illustrious knight-errant: but master Nicholas, who acted as barber to the village, affirmed, that none of them equalled the knight of the sun, or indeed could be compared to him in any degree, except Don Galaor, brother of Amadis De Gaul; for his disposition was adapted to all emergencies; he was neither such a precise, nor such a puling coxcomb, as his brother; and in point of valour, his equal at least.
So eager and entangled was our hidalgo22, in this kind of history, that he would often read from morning to night, and from night to morning again, without interruption; till at last the moisture of his brain being quite exhausted with indefatigable watching and study, he fairly lost his wits; all that he had read of quarrels, inchantments, battles, challenges, wounds, tortures, amorous complaints, and other improbable conceits, took full possession of his fancy; and he believed all those romantick exploits so implicitly, that, in his opinion, the Holy Scripture was not more true. He observed that Cid Ruydias was an excellent knight; but not equal to the lord of the flaming-sword, who with one back-stroke had cut two fierce and monstrous giants through the middle. He had still a better opinion of Bernardo Del Carpio; who, at the battle of Roncevalles, put the inchanted Orlando to death23, by the same means that Hercules used when he strangled the earth born Anteus. Neither was he silent in the praise of Morgante; who, though of that gigantick race which is noted for insolence and incivility, was perfectly affable and well-bred. But his chief favourite was Reynaldo of Montalban, whom he hugely admired for his prowess, in sallying from his castle to rob travellers; and, above all things, for his dexterity in stealing that idol of the impostor Mahomet, which, according to the history, was of solid gold. For an opportunity of pummelling the traitor Galalon24, he would willingly have given his house-keeper, body and soul; nay, and his niece into the bargain. In short, his understanding being quite perverted, he was seized with the strangest whim that ever entered the brain of a madman: this was no other than a full persuasion, that it was highly expedient and necessary, not only for his own honour, but also for the good of the publick, that he should profess knight-errantry, and ride through the world in arms, to seek adventures, and conform in all points to the practice of those itinerant heroes whose exploits he had read; redressing all manner of grievances, and courting all occasions of exposing himself to such dangers, as in the event would entitle him to everlasting renown. This poor lunatick looked upon himself already as good as seated, by his own single valour, on the throne of Trebisond; and, intoxicated with these agreeable vapours of his unaccountable folly, resolved to put his design in practice forthwith.
In the first place he cleaned an old suit of armour, which had belonged to some of his ancestors, and which he found in his garret, where it had lain for several ages, quite covered over with mouldiness and rust; but having scoured and put it to rights, as well as he could, he perceived, that instead of a compleat helmet, there was only a simple head-piece without a beaver. This unlucky defect, however, his industry supplied by a vizor, which he made of paste-board, and fixed so artificially to the morrion, that it looked like an entire helmet. True it is, that in order to try if it was strong enough to risk his jaws in, he unsheathed his sword, and bestowed upon it two hearty strokes, the first of which in a twinkling undid his whole week’s labour. He did not at all approve of the facility with which he hewed it in pieces; and therefore, to secure himself from any such danger for the future, went to work anew. He faced it with a plate of iron, in such a manner as that he remained satisfied of its strength without putting it to a second trial, and looked upon it as a most finished piece of armour.
He next visited his horse, which (though he had more corners than a rial25, being as lean as Gonela’s, that tantum pellis et ossa fuit) nevertheless, in his eye, appeared infinitely preferable to Alexander’s Bucephalus, or the Cid’s Babieca. Four days he consumed in inventing a name for this remarkable steed; suggesting to himself what an impropriety it would be if an horse of his qualities, belonging to such a renowned knight, should go without some sounding and significant appellation: he therefore resolved to accommodate him with one that should not only declare his past, but also his present capacity; for he thought it but reasonable, that since his master had altered his condition, he should also change his horse’s name, and invest him with some sublime and sonorous epithet, suitable to the new order and employment he professed. Accordingly, after having chosen, rejected, amended, tortured, and revolved, a world of names in his imagination, he fixed upon Rozinante26, an appellation, in his opinion, lofty, sonorous, and expressive, not only of his former, but likewise of his present situation, which entitled him to the preference over all other horses under the sun. Having thus denominated his horse, so much to his own satisfaction, he was desirous of doing himself the like justice; and after eight days study, actually assumed the title of Don Quixote: from whence, as hath been observed, the authors of this authentick history concluded, that his former name must have been Quixada, and not Quesada, as others are pleased to affirm. But recollecting that the valiant Amadis, not satisfied with that simple appellation, added to it that of his country; and in order to dignify the place of his nativity, called himself Amadis De Gaul. He resolved, like a worthy knight, to follow such an illustrious example, and assume the name of Don Quixote de La Mancha, which, in his opinion, fully expressed his generation, and at the same time reflected infinite honour on his fortunate country.
Accordingly, his armour being scowered, his beaver fitted to his head-piece, his steed accommodated with a name, and his own dignified with these additions, he reflected, that nothing else was wanting but a lady to inspire him with love; for a knight-errant without a mistress, would be like a tree destitute of leaves and fruit, or a body without a soul. ‘If,’ said he, ‘for my sins, or rather for my honour, I should engage with some giant, an adventure common in knight-errantry, and overthrow him in the field, by cleaving him in twain, or, in short, disarm and subdue him; will it not be highly proper that I should have a mistress, to whom I may send my conquered foe; who, coming into the presence of the charming fair, will fall upon his knees, and say, in an humble and submissive tone; “Incomparable princess, I am the giant Carculiambro, lord of the island Malindrania, who being vanquished in single combat by the invincible knight Don Quixote de La Mancha, am commanded by him to present myself before your beauty, that I may be disposed of, according to the pleasure of your highness?”’ How did the heart of our worthy knight dance with joy when he uttered this address; and still more, when he found a lady worthy of his affection! This, they say, was an hale, buxom, country wench, called Aldonza Lorenço, who lived in the neighbourhood, and with whom he had formerly been in love; though, by all accounts, she never knew, nor gave herself the least concern about the matter. Her he looked upon as one qualified, in all respects, to be the queen of his inclinations; and putting his invention again to the rack for a name that should bear some affinity with her own, and at the same time become a princess or lady of quality, he determined to call her Dulcinea del Toboso, she being a native of that place; a name, in his opinion, musical, romantick, and expressive, like the rest which he had appropriated to himself and his concerns.