Chap. V In Which Is Recounted the Vast Adventure of the Cave of Montesinos, in the Heart of La Mancha, Which Was Happily Atchieved by the Valiant Don Quixote
Great and manifold were the treats and particulars of respect, paid to Don Quixote by the new-married couple, who thought themselves greatly obliged by the readiness he had shewn to defend their cause, and looked upon his discretion to be equal to his valour; indeed, they esteemed him a perfect Cid in arms, and a Cicero in elocution. Honest Sancho regaled himself three days at their expence, during which it was known that the contrivance of the fictitious wound had not been communicated to Quiteria, but was hatched by the ingenuity of Basilius himself, in hope of meeting with that success which, as we have seen, he actually attained; true it is, he confessed he had imparted his design to some of his friends, that they might, in case of necessity, favour his intention, and facilitate the execution of his deceit.
‘Whatsoever hath virtue for its ultimate aim,’ said Don Quixote, ‘neither can or ought to be called deceit; and surely no aim can be more excellent than the union of two lovers in the holy bands of marriage.’ He observed, that the greatest enemy of love is hunger and necessity; for love is altogether sprightly, joyous, and satisfied, especially when the object of desire is in possession of the lover, whose fierce and declared adversaries are want and inconvenience. He made these observations with a view to persuade Signior Basilius to quiet the exercise of those talents he possessed, which, though they acquired reputation, would not earn a farthing of money, and to employ his attention in augmenting his estate by legal and industrious means, that never fail the prudent and the careful. The poor man of honour (if a poor man can deserve that title) possesses, in a beautiful wife, a jewel; and when that is taken away, he is deprived of his honour, which is murdered: a beautiful and chaste woman, whose husband is poor, deserves to be crowned with laurel and palms of triumph; for beauty alone attracts the inclinations of those who behold it, just as the royal eagle and soaring hawk stoop to the savoury lure; but if that beauty is incumbered by poverty and want, it is likewise attacked by ravens, kites, and other birds of prey; and if she who possesses it firmly withstands all these assaults, she well deserves to be called the crown of her husband. ‘Take notice, dearest Basilius,’ added the knight, ‘it was the opinion of a certain sage, that there was but one good wife in the whole world; and he advised every husband to believe she had fallen to his share, and accordingly be satisfied with his lot. I myself am not married, nor hitherto have I entertained the least thought of changing my condition; nevertheless, I will venture to advise him who asks my advice, in such a manner, that he may find a woman to his wish: in the first place, I would exhort him to pay more regard to reputation than to fortune; for a virtuous woman does not acquire a good name, merely by being virtuous, she must likewise maintain the exteriors of deportment, for the honour of the sex suffers much more from levity and freedom of behaviour in publick, than from any private misdeeds. If thou bringest a good woman to thy house, it will be an easy task to preserve and even improve her virtue; but, shouldst thou chuse a wife of a different character, it will cost thee abundance of pains to mend her; for it is not very practicable to pass from one extreme to another: I do not say it is altogether impossible, though I hold it for a matter of much difficulty.’
Sancho hearing these remarks, said to himself, ‘This master of mine, whenever I chance to utter any thing pithy or substantial, will say I might take a pulpit in hand, and travel through the world, teaching and preaching to admiration; now, I will say for him, that when he begins to string sentences, and give advice, he might not only take one pulpit in hand, but even a couple on each finger, and stroll about the market-towns. Wit, whither wouldst thou? May the devil fetch him for a knight-errant! he knows but every thing. I thought for certain, he could be acquainted with nothing but what relates to his chivalries; but he pecks at every thing, and throws his spoonful in every man’s dish.’
His master overheard him murmuring in this manner, and asking what he grumbled at, ‘I don’t grumble,’ answered Sancho, ‘I was only saying to myself, I wished I had heard those remarks of your worship before I married; in which case I might now, perhaps, remark in my turn, “The loosened ox is well licked.”’—‘What, is Teresa such a bad wife?’ said the knight. ‘Not very bad,’ answered the squire, ‘but then she is not very good; at least, not so good as I could wish.’—‘You are in the wrong, Sancho,’ said Don Quixote, ‘to disparage your wife, who in effect is the mother of your children.’—’As to that matter,’ replied Sancho, ‘we are not at all in one another’s debt; for she can disparage me fast enough, especially when she takes it in her head to be jealous, and then Satan himself could not endure her.’
In a word, they stayed three days with the new-married couple, during which they were treated and served like the king’s own person; and here Don Quixote desired the nimble-wristed licentiate to provide him with a guide to direct his steps to the cave of Montesinos, which he had a longing desire to explore, that he might investigate with his own eyes the truth of those wonderful stories that were reported of it through the whole neighbourhood. The licentiate promised to accommodate him with a first cousin of his own, a famous student deeply read in books of chivalry, who would willingly conduct him to the very mouth of the cave, and point out the lakes of Ruydera, so famous not only in the province of La Mancha, but also through the whole kingdom of Spain; and he likewise observed, that he would find his conversation very entertaining; for he was a lad who knew how to compose books for the press, and even dedicate them to princes. At length this cousin arrived upon an ass big with foal, whose pannel was covered with a piece of tawdry tapestry or carpet: Sancho saddled Rozinante, put Dapple in order, stowed his wallet, which was reinforced by the cousin’s, likewise very well stored; then recommending themselves to God, and taking leave of the company, they set out, chusing the shortest road to the famous cave of Montesinos.
While they travelled along, Don Quixote addressing himself to the student, asked what was the nature and quality of his exercises, studies, and profession? To this question the other answered, that his profession was humanity; and that his exercise and study consisted in composing books for the press, of great emolument, and no less entertainment to the publick; that one of them was intitled, The Book of Liveries, in which he had described seven hundred and three liveries, with their colours, mottos, and cyphers: ‘From these,’ said he, ‘your courtiers may extract and assume such devices as will suit their fancies, in times of festivity and rejoicing, without going about begging from any person whatever, or cudgelling their brains, as the saying is, in order to invent what will suit their several desires and dispositions; for I insert those that will fit the jealous, the disdained, the forgotten, and absent, so exactly, that the just will far exceed the number of the Gentiles, I have likewise finished another book, which I propose to call, The Metamorphoses; or, The Spanish Ovid; of an invention equally new and agreeable; for there, in imitation of Naso, I give a burlesque description and history of the Giralda of Seville, the Angel of La Madalina, the Conduit of Vecinguerra at Cordova, the bulls of Guisanda, the Sierra Morena, the Fountains of Leganitos, and the Levapies of Madrid, not forgetting those of the Piojo, the Golden Pipe, and the Priora, with their allegories, metaphors, and transformations, which at once surprize, instruct, and entertain. I have a third performance, which I denominate, The Supplement to Polydore’s Virgil, which treats of the invention of things, and is a work of great study and erudition; for many things of great importance, which Polydore has omitted, I examine and explain in a most elegant stile: he, for example, has forgot to let us know who was the first person troubled with a defluxion or rheum, and who was first anointed for the cure of the French distemper: now these two questions I resolve in the most accurate manner, upon the authority of above five and twenty authors; so your worship will perceive whether I have laboured to good purpose, and composed a book that will be useful to the world in general.’
Sancho having listened very attentively to this narration, ‘Tell me, Signior,’ said he, ‘so may God lend an helping hand to the printing of your books; tell me, if you know, and surely you know every thing, who was the first man that scratched his own head? for my own part, I firmly believe it must have been our father Adam.’—‘Certainly,’ answered the student; ‘for Adam without doubt had a head, and hair upon it; now that being the case, and he being the first man in the world, he must have scratched it sometimes.’—‘I am of the same opinion,’ resumed Sancho; ‘but now, pray tell me who was the first tumbler!’—‘Verily, brother,’ resumed the scholar, ‘I cannot determine that point until I shall have studied it, and study it I will, upon my return to the place where I keep my books; so that I shall satisfy you the next time we meet, for I hope this will not be the last time of our meeting.’—‘Then I desire you will give yourself no trouble about the matter,’ said Sancho; ‘for I have already found out the solution of my question: know, Signior, that the first tumbler must have been Lucifer, who, when he was thrown and rejected from heaven, came tumbling down to the bottomless pit.’—‘Friend,’ cried the student, ‘you are certainly in the right.’—‘That question and answer,’ said Don Quixote, ’is none of thy own; thou must have learned them from some other person, Sancho.’—‘Hold your tongue, Signior,’ replied the squire: ‘for, in good faith! if I begin to question and answer, I shall not have done till morning: yes, as to the matter of asking like a fool, and answering like a simpleton, I have no occasion to crave the assistance of my neighbours.’—‘Thou hast said more than thou art aware of,’ answered Don Quixote; ‘for some people there are who fatigue themselves in learning, and investigating that which, when learned and investigated, is not worth a farthing either to the memory or understanding.’
In this and other such relishing discourse they passed that day, and at night took up their lodging in a small village, from whence, as the scholar told the knight, the distance to the cave of Montesinos did not exceed a couple of leagues; and he observed, that if Don Quixote was really determined to explore the cavern, it would be necessary to provide ropes, by which he might be lowered down to its bottom. The knight said, that although he should descend to the abyss, he would see the bottom, for which purpose he purchased about a hundred fathoms of rope. Next day, about two o’clock in the afternoon, they arrived at the cave, and found the mouth broad and spacious, though overgrown with thorns, weeds, brambles, and brakes, so thick and intricate, that it was almost quite covered and concealed; at sight of the place all three alighted; the student and Sancho immediately began to fasten the rope strongly about the knight, and while they were thus employed in cording and girding him, Sancho addressing himself to the adventurer, ‘Dear master,’ said he, ‘consider what your worship is about; seek not to bury yourself alive, and to be used like a bottle of wine, let down to cool in some well; for it neither concerns nor belongs to your worship to be the surveyor of that pit, which must be worse than a dungeon.’—‘Tie the knot, and hold thy tongue, friend Sancho,’ answered Don Quixote, ‘for such an enterprize as this was reserved for me alone.’ Then the guide interposing, ‘I intreat your worship, Signior Don Quixote,’ said he, ‘to consider attentively and examine, as it were, with a hundred eyes, every circumstance within this cave, where, perhaps, there may be things which I shall insert among my transformations.’—‘The cymbal,’ answered Sancho, ’is in the hands that can play it to the utmost nicety.’
This discourse having passed, and the ligature being made, not over the knight’s armour but his doublet, ‘We have been guilty of an inadvertency,’ said Don Quixote, ‘in coming hither unprovided with a small bell, which, had it been tied to me with the same cord, would, with its sound, have given you notice, as I descended, of my being alive; but, as it is now impossible to be accommodated, I commit myself to the hands of God, who will conduct me.’ Then falling upon his knees, he in a low voice preferred a prayer to Heaven, beseeching God to assist and crown him with success, in this seemingly perilous and new adventure. His ejaculation being finished, he pronounced, in a loud voice, ‘O! thou mistress of my deeds and motions, the most resplendent and peerless Dulcinea del Toboso! if the prayer and petition of this thy adventurous lover can possibly reach thine ears, I conjure thee, by thy unheard-of beauty, to grant my request, which is no other than that thou wouldst not now deny me thy favour and protection, when I stand so much in need of both; for I am just upon the brink of darting, plunging, and ingulphing myself into the profound abyss that opens wide before me, on purpose that the world may know there is nothing so impossible that I will not attempt and execute, under the wings of thy favour.’
So saying, he approached the pit, where he found it would be impracticable to slip down, or make way for entering, without the strength of arms and back-strokes: he therefore, unsheathing his sword, began to lay about him, and mow down the bushes that grew around the mouth of the cave, out of which an infinite number of huge crows and daws, affrighted at the noise and disturbance, sallied forth with such force and velocity, as laid the knight upon his back; and had he been as superstitious as he was a good catholick, he would have looked upon this irruption as a bad omen, and excused himself from visiting the bowels of such a dreary place; at length he rose, and seeing that the flight of crows, and other birds of night, was now over, (for a number of bats had likewise come forth) he put the rope into the hands of Sancho and the scholar, desiring them to lower him down to the bottom of that dreadful cavern, which when he entered, Sancho gave him his benediction, and making a thousand crosses over him, exclaimed, ‘God and the Rock of France, together with the Trinity of Gaeta, be thy guides, thou flower, and cream, and scum of knights-errant: there thou goest, bully of the globe, heart of steel, and arm of brass! I say again, God be thy guide, and bring thee back safe, sound, and without deceit, to the light of this life, which thou art now forsaking to bury thyself in that obscurity.’ Almost the same prayer and deprecation was uttered by the scholar; while Don Quixote called aloud for rope, and afterwards for more rope, which they gave him by little and little. By that time the voice, which ascended through the windings and turnings of the cave, ceased to vibrate on their ears, they had already uncoiled the hundred fathoms, and were inclined to hoist him up again, as they had no more cord to spare: they stayed, however, about half an hour, at the expiration of which they began to pull up the rope, which seemed to have no weight attached to it, and came up with such ease, that they imagined the knight was left below; a supposition, in consequence of which the squire wept most bitterly, while he pulled with great eagerness in order to discover the truth; but when they had coiled up about four-score fathoms they felt the weight again, and were exceedingly rejoiced: finally, at the distance of ten fathoms, they distinctly perceived Don Quixote; to whom Sancho addressed himself, saying, ‘Dear master, I wish your worship an happy return; we began to think you had tarried below to breed.’
To this welcome the knight answered not a word. When they had pulled him up, they perceived his eyes were shut, and that, to all appearance, he was fast asleep; then he was laid upon the ground, and untied, but still he did not awake: however, by dint of turning, jogging, shaking, and moving, they, after some time, brought him to himself, when yawning hideously as if he had awoke from a profound and heavy sleep, he looked around with amazement, and pronounced, ‘God forgive you, friends, for having withdrawn me from the most delightful prospect and agreeable life that ever mortal saw or enjoyed: in effect, I am now fully convinced, that all the pleasures of this life fleet away like a shadow or dream, or fade like the flowers of the field. O unfortunate Montesinos! O deeply wounded Durandarte! O hapless Belerma! O weeping Guadiana! and you forlorn daughters of Ruydera, who by your waters shew the copious floods of tears that fall from your beauteous eyes!’
The scholar and Sancho hearing these words, which Don Quixote seemed to heave with immense pain from his very entrails, begged he would explain the meaning of what he had said, and inform them of what he had seen in that infernal gulph. ‘Infernal, call you it?’ said the knight; ‘pray give it a better epithet, for that it surely does deserve, as you will presently perceive.’ Then he desired they would give him something to eat, for he was excessively hungry; and they, spreading the carpet upon the grass, produced the buttery of their bags, when all three sitting around them, in love and good fellowship, made one meal serve for supper and afternoon’s luncheon, which being finished, and the cloth taken away, ‘My sons,’ said Don Quixote, ‘let no man stir, but listen with your whole attention to that which I am going to rehearse.’