Chap. VIII Of Circumstances Appertaining and Relating to This Adventure and Memorable Story
Verily, and in good truth! all those who take pleasure in reading such histories, ought to manifest their gratitude to its first author Cid Hamet, for his curiosity in recounting the most trivial incident, without neglecting to bring to light the least circumstance, how minute soever it may be. He describes the thought, discloses the fancy, answers the silent, explains doubts, discusses arguments, and finally displays the very atoms of the most curious disposition. O celebrated author! O happy Don Quixote! O renowned Dulcinea! O facetious Sancho Panza! may you flourish conjunctly and severally to the end of time, for the entertainment and pastime of mankind in general!
The history relates, that Sancho seeing the Afflicted faint away, ‘Now, by the faith of man!’ cried he, ‘and by the pedigree of all the Panzas my forefathers! never did I hear or see, nor did my master recount, or indeed conceive, such an adventure as this!—A legion of devils confound thee for a giant and inchanter, accursed Malambruno! couldst thou find no other method to punish these sinners, but by clapping beards to them? Would it not have been better, at least it would have been more for their advantage, to cut off half their noses, even though they should snuffle in their speech, than to encumber them with beards? I’d lay a wager, too, that they have not wherewithal to pay a barber.’—‘What you say is very true,’ replied one of the dozen; ‘we have not wherewithal to be trimmed, and therefore some of us, by way of œconomy, make use of sticking plaister, which being applied to our faces, and plucked off with a jerk, leave us as sleek and smooth as the bottom of a marble mortar; for, although there are women in Candaya who go from house to house, taking of the hair, arching the eyebrows, and composing slipslops for the use of the fair-sex, we who belonged to her ladyship would never admit them into the family, because, for the most part, they are persons who having ceased to be principals, exercise the occupation of procuresses; and therefore, if we are not redressed by Signior Don Quixote, we must e’en carry our beards to the grave.’—‘If I do not redress your whiskers,’ cried the knight, ‘I will leave mine among the Moors!’
Here the Countess Trifaldi recovering, ‘Valiant knight,’ said she, ‘the tingling of that promise reached mine ears while I lay in a swoon, and hath been the cause of my recovering and retrieving the use of all my senses; therefore, renowned errant, and invincible knight, I again entreat you, to put your gracious promise in execution.’—‘In me there shall be no delay,’ replied Don Quixote: ‘consider then, my lady, and tell me what I am to do; my mind is perfectly disposed for your service.’—‘The case is this, then,’ answered the afflicted duenna: ‘from hence to the kingdom of Candaya, if you go by land, you must travel five thousand leagues, it may be one or two more or less; but if you go through the air, in a right line, you measure no more than three thousand two hundred and twenty-seven. You must likewise know, Malambruno told me, that whenever fortune should furnish me with our deliverer, he would send him a steed that should be much better and less vicious than any of your return post-horses, as being the very individual wooden-horse upon which the valiant Peter carried off the fair Magalona: he is governed by a peg in his forehead, that serves instead of a bridle; and he flies so swiftly through the air, that one would think he was transported by all the devils in hell. This steed, according to ancient tradition, was contrived by the Sage Merlin, and he lent him to his friend Peter, who, by means of such conveyance, performed incredible journies, and stole, as I have observed, the fair Magalona, who sat behind him, and was transported through the air, to the astonishment of all those who gaped after her from the earth. Yet he would lend him to none but his particular favourites, or such as would pay him a handsome price; we do not know that he was ever mounted from the days of the great Peter to the present time. Malambruno, by dint of art, has got, and keeps him in his possession, making use of him in his journies, which he performs in an instant, from one part of the world to another; now here, to-morrow in France, and next day in Peru: and there is one great advantage in this horse, he neither eats nor sleeps, nor costs any thing in shoeing, and ambles through the air without wings in such a manner, that the rider may hold a cup full of water in his hand without spilling a single drop, his motion is so smooth and easy; for which reason, the fair Magalona delighted much in taking the air upon his back.’—’As for his going smooth and easy,’ said Sancho, ‘there is my Dapple, whom (though he does not go through the air, but along the ground) I will match against all the amblers that ever the earth produced.’ All the company laughed at this observation, and the afflicted duenna proceeded; ‘Now, this horse, if Malambruno is actually disposed to put an end to our misfortune, will be herein less than half an hour after it is dark: for he told me the signal by which I should be certain of having found the knight I was in quest of, would be his sending the horse thither with all convenient dispatch.’—’And pray,’ said Sancho, ‘how many persons will this horse carry?’—‘Two,’ replied the Afflicted; ‘one upon the saddle, and the other upon the crupper, and these are commonly the knight and the squire, when there is no damsel to be stolen.’—‘I should be glad to know, afflicted Madam,’ resumed the squire, ‘what is the name of that same horse?’—‘His name,’ answered the Afflicted, ’is not like that of Bellerophon’s horse, which was called Pegasus; nor does it resemble that which distinguished the steed of Alexander the Great, Bucephalus; nor that of Orlando Furioso, whose appellation was Brilladoro; nor Bayete, which belonged to Reynaldo de Montalban; nor Frontino, that appertained to Rugiero; nor Bootes, nor Peritoa, the horses of the sun; nor is he called Orelia, like that steed upon which the unfortunate Rodrigo, last king of the Goths, engaged in that battle where he lost his crown and life.’—‘I will lay a wager,’ cried Sancho, ‘that as he is not distinguished by any of those famous names of horses so well known, so neither have they given him the name of my master’s horse Rozinante; a name which, in propriety, exceeds all those that have been named.’—‘Very true,’ replied the bearded countess; ‘nevertheless, it fits him very well; for he is called Clavileno Aligero180, an appellation that suits exactly with his wooden substance, the peg in his forehead, and the swiftness with which he travels; so that, for his name, he may be brought in competition even with the famous Rozinante.’—‘The name pleases me well enough,’ said Sancho; ‘but what sort of bridle or halter must be used in managing him?’—‘I have already told you,’ answered Trifaldi, ‘that by turning the peg, the knight who rides can make him travel just as he pleases, either mounting through the air; or else sweeping, and, as it were, brushing the surface of the earth; or lastly, sailing through the middle region, which is the course to be sought after and pursued, in all well-concerted enterprizes.’
‘I should be glad to see this same beast,’ replied the squire; ‘but to think that I will mount him, either in the saddle or in the crupper, is all the same thing as to look for pears upon an elm. A fine joke, i’faith! I can scarce keep the back of my own Dapple, though sitting upon a pannel as soft as sattin, and they would now have me get upon a crupper of board, with out any pillow or cushion. By the Lord! I have no intention to bruise myself, in order to take off the beard of any person whatsoever; let every beard be shaved according to the owner’s fancy: for my own part, I have no notion of accompanying my master in such a long and tedious journey; for surely I have no concern in the shaving of beards, whatever I may have in the disinchantment of Dulcinea.’—‘Indeed, you have, my friend,’ answered Trifaldi; ‘aye, and so much, that without your presence I believe we shall do no good.’—‘In the king’s name!’ cried Sancho, ‘what have squires to do with the adventures of their masters? What! are they to run away with all the reputation, and we to undergo all the trouble? Body o’me! would your historians but mention, that such a knight atchieved such and such an adventure, with the assistance of his Squire What-d’ye-call-um, without whom he could not possibly have finished the exploit; but, they drily relate, as how Don Paralipomenon of the Three Stars, finished the adventure of the six goblins, without even naming the squire who was present all the time, no more than if there was not such a person in the world: I therefore say again to this honourable company, that my master may go by himself, and good luck attend him; but, for my own part, I will stay where I am, and keep my Lady Duchess company; and peradventure, at his return, he may find my Lady Dulcinea’s business well forwarded; for I intend, at my idle and leisure hours, to whip myself to such a tune, that not a single hair shall stand before me.’
‘But, for all that,’ said the duchess, ‘honest Sancho, you must attend him, should there be occasion, for you will be solicited by the righteous; and surely it would be a great pity, that the faces of these gentlewomen should continue overshadowed with hair, merely for your needless apprehension.’—‘I say again, in the king’s name!’ cried Sancho, ‘if this charity should be of any benefit to release maidens or parish-children, a man might venture to undergo some trouble; but to take such pains in order to rid duennas of their beards! a plague upon the whole generation! I had rather see them all bearded from the highest to the lowest, tag, rag, and bobtail.’—‘Friend Sancho,’ said the duchess, ‘you are on bad terms with duennas, and very much infected with the opinion of that apothecary of Toledo; but, in good sooth, you are very much in the wrong: there are duennas in my house, who might serve as patterns of virtue; and here stands Donna Rodriguez, who would not suffer me to say otherwise.’—‘Your excellency may say what you please,’ answered Rodriguez; ‘but God knows the truth of all things, and good or bad, bearded or smooth, we duennas were born of our mothers, as well as other women; since, therefore, God sent us into the world, he knows for what, and in his mercy do I put my trust, and not in the beard of any person whatsoever.’
‘’Tis very well, Signora Rodriguez, Madam Trifaldi, and you ladies of her company,’ said Don Quixote; ‘Heaven, I hope, will look upon your misfortunes with propitious eyes, and Sancho will chearfully obey my orders; let Clavileno come, so as that I may once see myself engaged with Malambruno, and confident I am, that no razor can shave your ladyships with more facility than my sword should find in shaving the giant’s head from his shoulders; for though God permits the wicked to prosper, it is but for a time.’ The afflicted duenna hearing this declaration, exclaimed, ‘Now, may all the stars of the celestial regions shed their benign influence upon your worship, most valiant knight, infusing courage into your soul, and crowning your atchievements with prosperity, that you may be the shield and support of this our slighted and depressed duennian order, abominated by apothecaries, grumbled at by squires, and jeered by pages! now, ill betide the wretch, who, in the flower of her youth, would not rather take the veil than become a duenna. Unfortunate duennas that we are! for, though we may be descended in a direct male line from Hector of Troy, our ladies will not fail to throw “Thou” in our teeth, even if they thought they should be crowned for it. O thou giant Malambruno! who, though an inchanter, art always punctual in thy promises, send hither the peerless Clavileno, that our disaster may be done away; for, if our beards continue until the dog-days begin, woe be unto us!’
Trifaldi pronounced these words in such a pathetick strain, as brought tears from the eyes of all the by standers, and even filled Sancho’s to the brim; so that he resolved in his heart, to accompany his master to the utmost limits of the earth, provided his attendance should be necessary towards shearing the wool of those venerable countenances.