Chap. III Being a Continuation of What Was Imparted to Don Quixote, Touching the Means for Disinchanting — Dulcinea — With an Account of Other Surprizing Incidents
Moving to the sound of this agreeable musick, came one of those carriages, called triumphal cars, drawn by six grey mules, covered with white linen, and upon each was mounted a penitent of light174, clad also in white, with a large lighted wax taper in his hand. The car was twice, nay thrice as large as the carriages which had passed, and the tops and sides were occupied by twelve other penitents as white as snow, with their lighted tapers: a sight that excited equal terror and surprise. Seated on a lofty throne appeared a nymph, habited in robes of silver tissue, bespangled with innumerable leaves of gold brocade; so that her dress, if not rich, was extremely gaudy; her face was covered with a delicate and transparent veil of fine tiffany, the plaits of which could not conceal the beauteous features of a young lady; and the number of lights enabled the spectators to distinguish her charms and her age, which seemed to be turned of seventeen, but under twenty. Close by her appeared a figure clad in what is called a robe of state, that reached to his feet; and his head was muffled in a black veil. The cart had no sooner come opposite to the duke and duchess and Don Quixote, than the musick of the waits, the harps, and lutes, ceased all at once; then this figure rising, threw aside his robe, and taking off the veil, disclosed to view the horrible and incarnate form of death; at sight of which Don Quixote was startled, Sancho overwhelmed with fear, and the duke and duchess exhibited some affected marks of consternation.
This living death standing upright, began, with a languid voice and tongue, but half awake, to repeat the following address—
‘I Merlin am, by histories bely’d.
That represent the devil as my fire:
A falshood sanction’d by the lapse of time.
I am the prince of magick, in whose breast
The Zoroastrick science lies intomb’d:
The rival of invidious Time, whose wings
Still seek to shade and darken all exploits
Atchiev’d by the illustrious errant knights,
For whom my friendship glows, and ever glow’d.
‘Tho’ all my fellows of th’inchanting tribe,
The magi and magicians, ever nurs’d
A disposition barbarous and harsh,
Mine still was tender, gentle, and humane,
A friend to all the various race of man.
In the profoundest cave of gloomy Dis,
Where my industrious spirit was employ’d
In forming mystick characters and spells,
Mine ears were wounded with the wailing cries
Of fam’d Dulcinea, that matchless fair.
‘I learn’d her strange inchantment, and condol’d
Her transformation from a gentle nymph
To the vile figure of a rustick wench.
And hundred thousand volumes I perus’d,
Fraught with the dark and diabolick art;
Then in the horrible and ghastly trunk
Of this dry skeleton my soul enclosed:
And now I come on purpose to impart
An easy remedy for her mishap.
‘O thou! the glory of all knights who wear
Impervious coats of mail and adamant;
Thou light and lanthorn, path, and north, and guide
Of all who quit the drowsy joys of sloth,
And starting from the lazy down, embrace
Th’ intolerable use and exercise
Of rude, unwieldy, sanguinary arms:
To thee I speak, great chief, whose valiant deeds
So far transcend the loudest blast of fame.
‘Quixote, for courage and discretion fam’d,
La Mancha’s mirrour, and the star of Spain,
In order to recover and restore
Thy peerless mistress to her former state,
Sancho, thy faithful squire, must undergo
Three thousand and three hundred stripes, apply’d
To his posteriors, passively expos’d;
And he himself must wield the pliant scourge
And start, and smart, and tingle with the pain.
Thus stands th’ irrevocable doom pronounc’d
By the fell authors of her dire mischance;
And on this errand, gentles, am I come.’
‘I vow to God!’ cried Sancho at this period, ‘not to mention three thousand, I will as soon give myself three stabs with a dagger as three single stripes with a scourge. Now, devil take such ways of disenchanting! I cannot conceive what my buttocks have to do with inchantments. Before God! if Signior Merlin can find no other method for disinchanting my Lady Dulcinea del Toboso, he may e’en go enchanted to her grave.’—‘Hark ye, Don Garlick-eating rustick,’ said Don Quixote, ‘I shall take and tie you to a tree, naked as your mother bore you, and not to mention three thousand three hundred, give you six thousand six hundred lashes, so well laid on, that three thousand three hundred twitches shall not pull them off; and answer me not a syllable, or I will tear thy soul from thy body.’
Merlin hearing this declaration—‘Not so, neither,’ said he; ‘the lashes to be received by honest Sancho must be voluntary, not upon compulsion, and at his own leisure, for there is no time fixed for the final execution; nevertheless, he is so far indulged, that he may be quit for one half of the stripes, provided he will allow the other half to be inflicted by another hand, though it may chance to be a little weighty.’—‘No man’s hand shall touch my flesh! neither another’s, nor my own, nor weighty nor unweighed. What a plague! did I, forsooth, bring my Lady Dulcinea into the world, that my backside must suffer for the transgression of her eyes? My master, indeed, who is a part of her, and is continually calling her his life, his soul, his sustenance and support, may, and ought to lash himself for her sake, and take with all dispatch the necessary steps for her disenchantment; but for me to scourge my own body, I denounce it!’
Scarce had Sancho uttered this remonstrance, when the embroidered nymph who sat by Merlin’s spirit, rising up, took off her transparent veil, and disclosing a face, which to all the spectators seemed more than exceedingly beautiful, addressed herself in these words directly to Sancho Panza, with a masculine assurance, and a voice that was not extremely melodious—‘O ill-conditioned squire! thou soul of a pitcher, heart of cork, and bowels of flinty pebbles! hadst thou been commanded, thou nose-slaying caitiff, to throw thyself down from a lofty tower; hadst thou been desired, thou enemy of human species, to swallow a dozen of toads, twice the number of lizards, and three dozen of snakes; hadst thou been urged to murder thy wife and children with some sharp and ruthless scymitar, it would not have been strange to see thee shy and fearful; but to make such objections to three thousand three hundred stripes, which there is scarce a naughty boy that does not receive every month, astounds, astonishes, and affrights the compassionate bowels of all this audience, as well as of all those who shall hear it in the future course of time. Turn, O miserable, hard-hearted animal! turn, I say, thy mulish goggle eyes upon these balls of mine that emulate the glittering stars, and see how they weep, thread by thread, and skein by skein, creating trenches, paths, and furrows, through the delightful meadows of my cheeks! Wilt thou not relent, thou crafty and malicious monster, at seeing me, in the flower of my age, (for I am still in my teens, being no more than nineteen, which is one year short of twenty) consume and pine within the bark of a homely rustick wench? in which form if I do not now appear, it is owing to the particular favour of Signior Merlin, who has indulged me so far, that my beauty might melt thy savage heart; for the tears of afflicted beauty soften rocks to cotton, and transform tygers into gentle lambs. Chastise, chastise, obdurate beast, that brawny beef of thine; arouze that slothful spirit which inclines thee to nothing but to gorge and regorge thy voracious maw, and set at liberty the beauty of my face; and if, for my sake, thou wilt not mollify thyself, and listen to any reasonable terms, at least relent in favour of that poor knight who stands forlorn at thy elbow; I mean, thy master, whose soul I now can see traversed in his throat, not above ten fingers breadth from his lips, waiting for nothing but thy kind or rigorous reply, in consequence of which it will either leap out of his mouth, or retire to his stomach.’
Don Quixote hearing these words, felt his throat, and turning to the duke, ‘By Heaven! my lord,’ said he, ‘Dulcinea has spoke truth; for here do I feel my soul traversed in my throat, like the nut of a cross-bow.’ When the duchess asked what Sancho said to that circumstance, ‘I say,’ replied the squire, ‘what I have said already, that the whipping I denounce.’—‘You must call it renounce,’ said the duke, ’and not denounce.’—‘I would your grace would let me alone,’ answered Sancho, ‘this is no time for me to mind niceties and letters, more or less; for I am so confounded at those stripes which I am to receive, or execute upon myself, that I neither know what I am saying or doing: yet I should be glad to know where my Lady Dulcinea del Toboso learned that manner of asking favours. She comes to desire me to tear open my flesh with a horse-whip, and calls me soul of a pitcher, obdurate beast, and a whole rigmarole of villainous names, which the devil may suffer for me! What a plague, is my flesh made of brass; or is it any thing to me, whether she is disinchanted or no? What baskets of white linen, shirts, caps, and socks, (though I wear none) does she bring to soften me? Nothing but abuse upon abuse; without remembering the proverb, that says, An ass loaded with gold will skip over a mountain. A generous gift the rock will rift. We must fervently pray, and hammer away. I will give thee, is good; but, Here, take it, is better. Then, my master, who ought to lead me fair and softly by the hand, and persuade me with gentle words to whip myself into wool and carded cotton, declares, forsooth, that if he should once take me in hand, he will tie me naked to a tree, and double the allowance of stripes. These angry gentlemen ought to consider it is not only a squire, but a governor whom they desire to flog himself, as if it was no more than drinking after cherries. Let them learn, let them learn, with a vengeance, how to entreat and beg with good-breeding; for all seasons are not the same; and a man is not always in good-humour; here am I ready to burst with vexation to see the rent in my green coat, and they must needs come and desire me to whip myself with good will, when, God knows, I am as far from doing it with good will, as I am from turning Turk175.’
‘Nevertheless, friend Sancho,’ said the duke, ‘if your heart does not become softer than a ripe fig, you shall finger no government of mine. It would be a fine scheme, indeed, if I should send to my islanders a cruel, flinty-hearted governor, who would not melt at the tears of damsels in affliction; nor at the entreaties of wise, imperious, ancient sages and inchanters! In a word, Sancho, you must either consent to whip yourself, or be whipped, or lay aside all thoughts of being a governor.’—‘My good lord,’ replied the squire, ‘will not they give me two days to consider and determine what will be for the best?’—‘By no means,’ cried Merlin: ‘on this very spot, and this very instant, the business must be discussed; otherwise Dulcinea will return to the cave of Montesinos, and the appearance of a country-wench; whereas, if you comply, she will, in her present form, be transported to the Elysian fields, where she must reside until the number of the stripes be accomplished.’
‘Go to, honest Sancho,’ said the duchess, ‘pluck up your spirits, and behave like a grateful squire that has eaten the bread of Signior Don Quixote, who is intitled to the service and acknowledgments of us all, by his amiable disposition and sublime chivalry. Say Aye, my son, to this same flagellation, and let the devil fetch the devil; leave fear to the coward; for a stout heart quails misfortune, as you very well know.’
To these exhortations Sancho made no reply; but addressing himself to Merlin, with his usual extravagance, ‘Good, your worship, pray tell me, Signior Merlin, the meaning of one thing: a certain courier devil came here with a message to my master, from Signior Montesinos, desiring him to stay in this place until he should come up; for he would teach him a way to disinchant my Lady Dulcinea del Toboso; and hitherto we have seen no such person?’ To this interrogation Merlin replied, ‘That devil, friend Sancho, is an ignorant blockhead, and a very great knave. I sent him hither in quest of your master; not with a message from Montesinos, but from myself; for Montesinos is still in his cave, planning, or rather expecting his disinchantment, the worst of which is still to come; but if he owes you any thing, or you have any business to transact with him, I will bring you face to face wherever you shall appoint. In the mean time, dispatch, and give your consent to this discipline; which, I assure you, will greatly redound to the advantage both of your soul and body: to your soul, from the charity of the undertaking; and to your body, as I know you are of a florid complexion, and will be the better for losing a little blood.’
‘What a number of leeches have we got in this world!’ said Sancho; ‘the very inchanters are physicians; but since every body says so, although I cannot perceive it myself, I am content to give myself three thousand three hundred lashes, on condition that I may give them when and where I shall think proper, without being confined to any certain time, or rate of allowance; and I will endeavour to discharge the debt as soon as possible, that the world may enjoy the beauty of the Lady Dulcinea del Toboso, since, contrary to my former belief, she appears to be really beautiful. I likewise covenant that I shall not be obliged to fetch blood with the scourge, and that in case I should chance to be whipped by the officers of justice176, every lash so received shall enter into the tale: Item, lest I should commit a mistake in the number, Signior Merlin, who knows every thing, shall take care to reckon them, and give me to understand how far I have fallen short, or exceeded the appointed score.’—‘There will be no occasion to apprize you of the overplus,’ said Merlin; ‘for as soon as the number shall be compleated, the Lady Dulcinea will be disinchanted, and come, out of pure gratitude, to return thanks, and even a recompence to the charitable Sancho for his good work. You need not, therefore, make any scruple about the superplus or the deficiency; nor will Heaven allow me to defraud any person, even of a single hair.’—‘A God’s name, then,’ cried Sancho, ‘I consent in my tribulation; I say, I accept of the penance on the conditions aforesaid.’
Scarce had Sancho pronounced these last words, when the musick of the waits began to play again, and an infinite number of muskets were discharged, while Don Quixote, hanging about Sancho’s neck, imprinted a world of kisses on his cheeks and forehead; the duke and duchess, and all the by-standers, expressed the utmost pleasure, the car began to move, and the beauteous Dulcinea, in passing, bowed to their graces, and made a profound curtsy to Sancho.
About this time the chearful smiling morn advanced; the flowerets of the field, with heads erect, diffused their fragrance; and the liquid chrystal of the rills murmuring among the variegated pebbles, went sliding on to pay its tribute to the rivers, that waited to receive their customary dues: the joyous earth, the splendid firmament, the buxom air, and light unclouded; each singly, and all together joined, prognosticated plainly, that the day, which trod upon Aurora’s skirts, would be serene and fair. The duke and duchess, extremely well satisfied with the chace, as well as with the ingenious and fortunate execution of their design, returned to the castle, with full intention to perform the sequel of their jest, than which no real adventure could have given them more delight.