Chap. IV In Which Sancho Panza Satisfies the Doubts, and Answers the Questions of Batchelor Sampson Carrasco; With Other Incidents Worthy to Be Recited and Known
Sancho returning to his master’s house, resumed the former conversation, to gratify Mr. Sampson, who said he wanted to know when, in what manner, and by whom his ass had been stolen; ‘You must know, then,’ said he, ‘that very night we fled from the holy brotherhood, and got into the Brown Mountain, after the misventuresome adventure of the galley-slaves, and the corpse that was carrying to Segovia, we took up our quarters in a thicket, where my master and I, being both fatigued, and sorely bruised in the frays we had just finished, went to rest, he leaning upon his lance, and I lolling upon Dapple, as if we had been stretched upon four feather-beds; I, in particular, slept so sound, that the thief, whosoever he was, had an opportunity of coming and propping me up with four stakes, fixed under the corner of my pannel, on which I was left astride; so that he slipped Dapple from under me, without my perceiving it in the least.’—’And this is no difficult matter, nor new device,’ said Don Quixote; ‘for the same thing happened to Sacripante at the siege of Albraca, where, by this contrivance, his horse was stolen from between his legs by the famous robber Brunelo137.’—‘When morning came,’ proceeded Sancho, ‘I no sooner began to stretch myself, than the stakes gave way, and down I came to the ground with a vengeance; I looked for my beast, and finding he was gone, the tears gushed from my eyes, and I set up a lamentation, which, if the author of our history has not set down, you may depend upon it, he hath neglected a very excellent circumstance; a good many days after this mischance, as I chanced to be travelling with my lady the Princess Micomicona, descrying a person riding towards me in the habit of a gypsy, I immediately knew my own ass, and discovered the rider to be Gines de Passamonte, that impostor and notorious malefactor, whom my master and I delivered from the galley-chain.’
‘The error lies not in that part of the history,’ replied the batchelor, ‘but consists in the author’s saying that Sancho rode on the same ass, before it appears that he had retrieved him.’—’As so that affair,’ said the squire, ‘I can give you no satisfactory answer; perhaps it was an oversight in the historian, or owing to the carelessness of the printer.’—‘Doubtless it was so,’ replied Sampson; ‘but what became of those hundred crowns? were they laid up or laid out?’—‘I laid them out,’ answered Sancho, ‘in necessaries for my own person, my wife, and children; and those crowns were the cause of my gossip’s bearing patiently my ramblings and rovings in the service of my lord and master Don Quixote; for if, after such a long absence, I had come home without my ass, and never a cross in my pocket, I might have expected a welcome the wrong way. Now, if you have any thing else to ask, here I am ready to answer the king in person; and it matters not to any person, whether I did or did not bring them home, or whether I spent them or lent them; for if the blows I have received in our peregrinations were to be repaid with money, rated at no more than four maravedis a piece, another hundred crowns would not quit one half of the score; therefore, let every man lay his hand upon his heart, and not pretend to mistake an hawk for a hand-saw138; for we are all as God made us, and a great many of us much worse.’
‘I will take care,’ said Carrasco, ‘to apprize the author of the history, that if it should come to another edition, he may not forget to insert what honest Sancho observes, as it will not a little contribute to raise the value of the work.’—‘Mr. Batchelor,’ said the knight, ‘did you, in reading it, perceive any thing else that ought to be amended?’—‘There might be some things altered for the better,’ replied Carrasco; ‘but none of such consequence as those already mentioned.’—’And pray,’ resumed Don Quixote, ‘does the author promise a second part?’—‘Yes,’ said Sampson, ‘but he says he has not yet found it, nor does he know in whose possession it is; so that we are still in doubt, whether or not it will see the light: on that account, therefore, and likewise because some people say, that second parts are never good, while others observe, that too much already hath been written concerning Don Quixote, it is believed that there will be no second part; though there is a a third sort more jovial than wise, who cry, “Quixote for ever! let the knight engage, and Sancho Panza harangue; come what will, we shall be satisfied.”’—’And how does the author seem inclined?’ said the knight. ‘How?’ answered Carrasco, ‘to set the press a-going, as soon as he can find the history, for which he is now searching with all imaginable diligence; thereto swayed by interest, more than by any motive of praise.’—‘Since the author keeps interest and money in his eye,’ said Sancho, ‘it will be a wonder if he succeeds; for he’ll do nothing but hurry, hurry, like a taylor on Easter-eve; and your works that are trumped up in a haste, are never finished with that perfection they require; I would have Mr. Moor take care, and consider what he is about; for my master and I will furnish him with materials, in point of adventures and different events, sufficient to compose not only one, but a hundred second parts. What! I suppose the honest man thinks we are now sleeping among straw; but let him lift up our feet, and then he will see which of them wants to be shod; all that I shall say is, if my master had taken my advice, we might have been already in the fields, redressing grievances, and righting wrongs, according to the use and custom of true knights-errant.’
Scarce had Sancho pronounced these last words, when their ears were saluted by the neighing of Rozinante, which Don Quixote considered as a most happy omen, and determined in three or four days to set out on his third expedition; accordingly, he declared his intention to the batchelor, whose advice he asked with regard to the route he should take. Sampson said, that in his opinion, he ought to direct his course towards the kingdom of Arragon, and go to Saragossa, where, in a few days, was to be held a most solemn tournament on the festival of St. George; there he would have an opportunity of winning the palm from the Arragonian knights, which would raise his reputation above that of all the champions upon earth: he applauded his design as a most valiant and honourable determination, and begged he would be more cautious in encountering dangers, because his life was not his own, but the property of all those who had occasion for protection and succour in distress.
‘That is the very thing I repose, Mr. Sampson,’ said the squire; ‘for my master thinks no more of attacking a hundred men in arms, than a hungry boy would think of swallowing half a dozen pippins139. Body of the universe! Mr. Batchelor, if there are times for attacking, there are also seasons for retreating; the cry must not always be “St. Jago! charge, Spain140!” especially as I have heard, and, if I remember aright, my master himself has often observed, that valour lies in the middle, between the extremes of cowardice and rashness; this being the case, I would not have him fly without good reason, nor give the assault when he is likely to be overpowered by numbers; but, above all things, I give my master notice, that if he carries me along with him, it shall be on condition that he fight all the battles himself, and I be obliged to do nothing, but tend his person, that is, take care of his belly, and keep him sweet and clean; in which case, I will jig it away with pleasure141; but to think that I will put hand to sword, even against base-born plebeians with cap and hatchet, is a wild imagination: for my own part, Mr. Sampson, I do not pretend to the reputation of being valiant, but of being the best and loyalest squire that ever served a knight-errant; and if my master Don Quixote, in consideration of my great and faithful services, shall be pleased to bestow upon me one of those many islands which his worship says will fall in his way, I shall very thankfully receive the favour; and even if he should not keep his word, here stand I, simple as I am, and one man must not depend upon another, but trust in God alone; besides, the bread I eat, without a government, mayhap will relish better than the dainties of a governor; and how do I know but the devil may, in these governments, raise some stumbling-block, over which I shall fall and beat out my grinders? Sancho I was born, and Sancho will I die; but, nevertheless, if by the favour of Providence, I could fairly and softly, without much risk or anxiety, obtain an island, or some such matter, I am not such a ninny as to throw it away; for, as the saying is, When the heifer is offered, be ready with the rope; and, When good fortune comes to thy door, be sure to bid it welcome.’
‘Brother Sancho,’ said the batchelor, ‘you have spoke like a professor; but for all that, put your trust in God, and Signior Don Quixote, who instead of an island, will give you a whole kingdom.’—‘The one as likely as the other,’ answered Sancho; ‘though I dare venture to assure Signior Carrasco, that the kingdom, which my master shall bestow upon me, will not be put into a rotten sack; for I have felt my own pulse, and find myself in health sufficient to rule kingdoms and govern islands, as I have, upon many other occasions, hinted to my master.’—‘Consider, Sancho,’ said the batchelor, ‘that honours often change the disposition; and, perhaps, when you come to be governor, you will not know the mother that bore you.’—‘That may be the case,’ answered the squire, ‘with those who were born among mallows; but not with me, who have got four inches of old christian suet on my ribs; then if you come to consider my disposition, you will find I am incapable of behaving ungratefully to any person whatever.’—‘God grant it to be so,’ said the knight; ‘but this will appear when you arrive at the government, which methinks I have already in mine eye.’
He then intreated the batchelor, if he was a poet, to favour him with a copy of verses on his intended parting from his mistress Dulcinea del Toboso, and desired that every line might begin with a letter of her name, so that the initials being joined together, might make Dulcinea del Toboso. Carrasco, though he owned he was not one of the famous poets of Spain, who were said to be but three and a half142, promised to compose such an acrostick as he desired, which, by the bye, he foresaw would be no easy task, because the name consisted of seventeen letters, and if he should make four stanzas of four lines each, one must be left out; or should they be composed of five, called decimas or roundelays, three letters would be wanting to compleat the number; however, he would endeavour to sink one letter as much as he could, so that in four stanzas the name Dulcinea del Toboso should be included. ‘That must be done, at all events,’ said Don Quixote; ‘for if the name be not plain and manifest, no woman will believe that she was the subject of the poem.’ This affair being thus settled, as also the time of their departure, which was fixed at the distance of eight days, Don Quixote charged the batchelor to keep it secret, especially from the curate, Mr. Nicholas, his niece, and housekeeper, that they might not obstruct his honourable and valiant determination. Carrasco, having promised to observe this caution, took his leave of the knight, whom he begged to favour him on every occasion, with an account of his good or evil fortune; and Sancho went home, to provide every thing necessary for their expedition.