Chap. XI Of Things Related by Benengeli, Which He Who Reads Them Attentively, Will Know
When a brave man flies, he must have discovered some odds or foul play; and it is the business of prudent captains, to reserve themselves for better occasions. This maxim was verified in Don Quixote, who, by giving way to popular fury, and the evil intention of that incensed squadron, took to his heels, and without paying the least regard to Sancho, or the danger in which he left him, moved off to such a distance as he judged sufficient for his own security. He was followed by Sancho lying across the ass, as we have already observed, who, by that time he was brought up to his master, had just recovered the use of his senses, and fell from Dapple at the feet of Rozinante, all battered and bruised, and in an agony of pain.
The knight dismounting to search his wounds, no sooner perceived he was sound from head to foot, than he thus accosted him in an angry tone: ‘In evil hour, you must understand braying, sirrah! Where did you learn it was convenient to talk of halters in the house of a man that was hanged? To the tenor of braying what bass could you expect but the basting of a cudgel? You have reason to thank God that, instead of receiving a benediction with a pole, you have not been crossed with a scymitar.’—‘I am at present in no condition to answer,’ said Sancho; ‘for methinks I talk through my shoulders: let us mount and depart from this place, and I shall make an end of my braying; though I shall never be weary of telling as how knights-errant run away, and leave their honest squires, beaten to chaff and pounded to cinders, in the power of their enemies.’—‘There is a wide difference between flying and retreating,’ answered Don Quixote; ‘for you must know, Sancho, that valour which is not founded on the base of discretion, is termed temerity or rashness; and the achievements of a rash person ought to be ascribed rather to good fortune than courage. I own, therefore, I have retreated, but not fled; and in so doing have imitated a great number of valiant chiefs, who reserved themselves for more dignified occasions: and of these instances histories are full; but I omit rehearsing them at present, because the recital would be of no advantage to thee, or entertainment to myself.’
By this time, Sancho being set upon his ass again by Don Quixote, who likewise mounted Rozinante, they jogged along softly, in order to shelter themselves in a grove that appeared at the distance of a quarter of a league; and the squire, every now and then heaving up a most profound ‘Ah!’ accompanied with piteous groans, his master desired to know the cause of such bitter ejaculations. To which question the squire replied, that from the extremity of his rump to the nape of his neck, he felt such intolerable pain as was like to deprive him of his senses. ‘The cause of that pain,’ said Don Quixote, ‘must doubtless be this; as the pole or staff by which you have suffered was long and large, it extended over the whole back, comprehending all those parts that now give you pain; and if it had reached still farther, the pain would have been more extensive.’—‘’Fore God,’ cried Sancho, ‘your worship has taken me out of a huge uncertainty, and resolved the doubt in delicate terms. Body o’me! was the cause of my pain so mysterious, that there was a necessity for telling me, I feel pain in those parts that were cudgelled? Had my shins ached, there might have been some reason for guessing at the cause of their aching; but, surely, there is no great witchcraft required to tell me that my back aches, because it was crossed with a quarter staff! In good faith, Sir Master of mine, Our neighbour’s care hangs by a hair. Every day I see more and more how the land lies, and how little I have to expect from keeping your worship’s company; for if you left me to be cudgelled at this time, we shall, upon a hundred different occasions, return to our late blankettings and other such toys; and though this misfortune has fallen upon my shoulders, they next may light upon my eyes. Abundantly better should I have done, but I am such a barbarian, that in all the days of my life, I never did well; I say again, abundantly better should I have done, had I returned to my house, my wife, and my children, and maintained and brought them up with what Providence should please to bestow, rather than fag after your worship in this manner, through roadless roads, and pathless paths, drinking bad liquor and eating worse food; then, when I come to sleep—“Brother squire, measure out seven feet of ground; and if you chuse to be more at your ease, take as much more, for the ladle is in your own hand, and lay yourself out to your heart’s desire.” Would to God I could see the first man who meddled with knight-errantry burnt to a cinder; at least the first booby who chose to be squire to such wiseacres as all former knights-errant must have been! Of the present, I say nothing; as your worship is one of the number, I hold them in respect, because I am sensible, that in speeching and understanding, you know a point more than the devil himself.’
‘I would venture to lay a good wager, Sancho,’ said Don Quixote, ‘that now, while you are permitted to speak without the least hindrance, you feel no pain in any part of your body. Proceed, child, and out with every thing that comes into your head, or tarries at your tongue’s end; for, provided you are free from pain, I shall convert into pleasure that disgust which proceeds from your folly and impertinence; and if you are so much bent upon returning to your house, your wife and your family, God forbid that I should oppose your resolution. You have some of my money in your hands; recollect how long it is since we set out on this my third sally; then reckon what you might and should have earned monthly, and be your own paymaster.’—‘When I worked for Thomas Carrasco, father of Batchelor Sampson, who is your worship’s acquaintance,’ answered Sancho, ‘I earned two ducats a month, besides my victuals: with your worship I know not what I can earn; though well I know that the squire of a knight-errant has a much more troublesome office than that of a farmer’s servant; for, in fact, we who serve husbandmen, let us work never so hard through the day, and happen what will, have a hot supper out of the pot at night, and lie in a good bed, which I have never enjoyed since I have been in your worship’s service, except for that short space of time that we stayed in the house of Don Diego de Miranda; and bating the good cheer I found among the scum of Camacho’s kettle, and my eating, drinking, and sleeping, at the habitation of Basilius; all the rest of the time I have slept on the hard ground, under the cope of heaven, exposed to what you call the inclemencies of the weather, living upon cheese-pairings and crusts of bread, and drinking cold water, sometimes from the brooks and sometimes from the springs we met with in the publick roads through which we travelled.’
‘Allowing,’ said Don Quixote, ‘that all you have mentioned is true, how much more do you think I ought to give you than that which you received from Thomas Carrasco?’—‘With the addition of two rials a month,’ replied Sancho, ‘I shall think myself well paid, that is, with regard to my wages; but, as to some satisfaction for your worship’s word and promise of making me a governor of an island, methinks it would be but fair and honest to add six rials more; and then, altogether will come to thirty.’—‘Very well reckoned,’ answered the knight; ‘now, according to the tale of wages you have mentioned, calculate fairly and exactly what I am indebted to you, for the five and twenty days that are elapsed since our departure from our own village, and, as I said before, be your own paymaster.’—‘Body o’me!’ cried Sancho, ‘your worship is quite out in your reckoning; for in regard to the promise of the island, we must compute from the day in which your honour made the said promise to this blessed hour.’—‘How long, then, has that same promise been made?’ said Don Quixote. ‘If my memory does not fail me,’ answered the squire, ‘it must be above twenty years, a few days over or under.’ Here, the knight slapping his forehead with his hand, began to laugh heartily, saying, ‘Why, my stay in the Sierra Morena, with the whole course of our peregrinations, has scarce employed two months: and wilt thou say I have promised thee that island these twenty years? Now I perceive thy intention is to keep, in lieu of wages, all my money that is in thy hands; and if that be the case, and thou really lookest upon it with an eye of desire, I give thee the whole sum from this moment, and much good may it do thee; for, provided I find myself rid of such a wretched squire, I shall think myself happy, though poor and pennyless. But, tell me, thou prevaricator of all the squirely ordinances of chivalry! where hast thou seen or read that any squire of a knight-errant ever presumed to bargain with his master touching a certain monthly salary for his service? Launch out, launch out! you ruffian, vagabond, and hobgoblin! for such you are; launch out, I say, into the mare magnum of chivalry; and if you find that any squire ever attempted to say, or even to think, what thou hast here uttered, I will give thee leave to nail the passage on my forehead, and pinch the sign of the four nipples on my face, by way of additional mortification. Turn immediately the reins of the halter of your ass, and return to your house, your wife, and your family; for one step farther thou shalt not travel with me. O bread ill-bestowed! O promise misapplied! O wretch that favoured more of the beast than of the man! At this juncture, when I was on the eve of raising thee to such a station as would have ennobled thee, even in spite of thy wife, thou seekest to leave me! Now thou art going away, when I had firmly and unalterably resolved to make thee lord of the best island in the universe! In a word, as thou thyself hast observed upon other occasions, An ass’s mouth was not made for honey, &c. An ass thou art, an ass wilt thou be; aye, and thou wilt die like an ass, when the course of thy life is finished; for I am convinced that thy days will reach their utmost period, before thou shalt learn and know what a beast thou art!’
Sancho looked woefully at his master, while he poured forth these reproaches, from which the squire felt such compunction, that the tears started in his eyes; and he replied in a faint, whimpering tone, ‘My good master, I confess that, in order to be really and truly an ass, I want nothing but a tail, which, if your worship will furnish me with, I shall think it well bestowed, and serve you as a beast of burden all the days of my life. Good your worship, forgive and look upon my green years with compassion, and consider that I know very little; and if I speak a great deal of nonsense, it does not proceed from malice but infirmity; and Those who sin and kiss the rod, find favour in the sight of God.’—‘I should have been surprized, Sancho,’ said the knight, ‘if thou hadst not seasoned thy discourse with some proverbial expression. Well, then, for the present, I forgive thee, in hope of thy amendment, and on condition that thou wilt not henceforward betray such a sordid and selfish disposition, but endeavour to enlarge thy heart, fortify and encourage thy mind, to wait the accomplishment of my promises; which, though it may not speedily happen, is nevertheless far from being impossible?’ Sancho said he would do his endeavour, and follow his advice, even though he should gather strength from feebleness.
Then they betook themselves to the covert of the grove, where the knight accommodated himself at the root of an elm, and the squire retreated to the foot of a beech; for these and other such trees never want feet, though they are always destitute of hands. Sancho passed the night in great trouble; for the cold air augmented the pain of his bruises; whereas, Don Quixote amused himself with his incessant meditations. Nevertheless, both master and man gave way to the operations of sleep, and at the approach of morn, prosecuted their way to the banks of the renowned Ebro, where they were involved in an adventure that will be recounted in the succeeding chapter.