PART II - CHAPTER I.

by Miguel de Cervantes

　　OF THE INTERVIEW THE CURATE AND THE BARBER HAD WITH DON QUIXOTE ABOUT HISMALADYCide Hamete Benengeli, in the Second Part of this history, and thirdsally of Don Quixote, says that the curate and the barber remained nearlya month without seeing him, lest they should recall or bring back to hisrecollection what had taken place. They did not, however, omit to visithis niece and housekeeper, and charge them to be careful to treat himwith attention, and give him comforting things to eat, and such as weregood for the heart and the brain, whence, it was plain to see, all hismisfortune proceeded. The niece and housekeeper replied that they did so,and meant to do so with all possible care and assiduity, for they couldperceive that their master was now and then beginning to show signs ofbeing in his right mind. This gave great satisfaction to the curate andthe barber, for they concluded they had taken the right course incarrying him off enchanted on the ox-cart, as has been described in theFirst Part of this great as well as accurate history, in the last chapterthereof. So they resolved to pay him a visit and test the improvement inhis condition, although they thought it almost impossible that therecould be any; and they agreed not to touch upon any point connected withknight-errantry so as not to run the risk of reopening wounds which werestill so tender.They came to see him consequently, and found him sitting up in bed in agreen baize waistcoat and a red Toledo cap, and so withered and dried upthat he looked as if he had been turned into a mummy. They were verycordially received by him; they asked him after his health, and he talkedto them about himself very naturally and in very well-chosen language. Inthe course of their conversation they fell to discussing what they callState-craft and systems of government, correcting this abuse andcondemning that, reforming one practice and abolishing another, each ofthe three setting up for a new legislator, a modern Lycurgus, or abrand-new Solon; and so completely did they remodel the State, that theyseemed to have thrust it into a furnace and taken out something quitedifferent from what they had put in; and on all the subjects they dealtwith, Don Quixote spoke with such good sense that the pair of examinerswere fully convinced that he was quite recovered and in his full senses.The niece and housekeeper were present at the conversation and could notfind words enough to express their thanks to God at seeing their masterso clear in his mind; the curate, however, changing his original plan,which was to avoid touching upon matters of chivalry, resolved to testDon Quixote's recovery thoroughly, and see whether it were genuine ornot; and so, from one subject to another, he came at last to talk of thenews that had come from the capital, and, among other things, he said itwas considered certain that the Turk was coming down with a powerfulfleet, and that no one knew what his purpose was, or when the great stormwould burst; and that all Christendom was in apprehension of this, whichalmost every year calls us to arms, and that his Majesty had madeprovision for the security of the coasts of Naples and Sicily and theisland of Malta.To this Don Quixote replied, "His Majesty has acted like a prudentwarrior in providing for the safety of his realms in time, so that theenemy may not find him unprepared; but if my advice were taken I wouldrecommend him to adopt a measure which at present, no doubt, his Majestyis very far from thinking of."The moment the curate heard this he said to himself, "God keep thee inhis hand, poor Don Quixote, for it seems to me thou art precipitatingthyself from the height of thy madness into the profound abyss of thysimplicity."But the barber, who had the same suspicion as the curate, asked DonQuixote what would be his advice as to the measures that he said ought tobe adopted; for perhaps it might prove to be one that would have to beadded to the list of the many impertinent suggestions that people were inthe habit of offering to princes."Mine, master shaver," said Don Quixote, "will not be impertinent, but,on the contrary, pertinent.""I don't mean that," said the barber, "but that experience has shown thatall or most of the expedients which are proposed to his Majesty areeither impossible, or absurd, or injurious to the King and to thekingdom.""Mine, however," replied Don Quixote, "is neither impossible nor absurd,but the easiest, the most reasonable, the readiest and most expeditiousthat could suggest itself to any projector's mind.""You take a long time to tell it, Senor Don Quixote," said the curate."I don't choose to tell it here, now," said Don Quixote, "and have itreach the ears of the lords of the council to-morrow morning, and someother carry off the thanks and rewards of my trouble.""For my part," said the barber, "I give my word here and before God thatI will not repeat what your worship says, to King, Rook or earthlyman--an oath I learned from the ballad of the curate, who, in theprelude, told the king of the thief who had robbed him of the hundredgold crowns and his pacing mule.""I am not versed in stories," said Don Quixote; "but I know the oath is agood one, because I know the barber to be an honest fellow.""Even if he were not," said the curate, "I will go bail and answer forhim that in this matter he will be as silent as a dummy, under pain ofpaying any penalty that may be pronounced.""And who will be security for you, senor curate?" said Don Quixote."My profession," replied the curate, "which is to keep secrets.""Ods body!" said Don Quixote at this, "what more has his Majesty to dobut to command, by public proclamation, all the knights-errant that arescattered over Spain to assemble on a fixed day in the capital, for evenif no more than half a dozen come, there may be one among them who alonewill suffice to destroy the entire might of the Turk. Give me yourattention and follow me. Is it, pray, any new thing for a singleknight-errant to demolish an army of two hundred thousand men, as if theyall had but one throat or were made of sugar paste? Nay, tell me, howmany histories are there filled with these marvels? If only (in an evilhour for me: I don't speak for anyone else) the famous Don Belianis werealive now, or any one of the innumerable progeny of Amadis of Gaul! Ifany these were alive today, and were to come face to face with the Turk,by my faith, I would not give much for the Turk's chance. But God willhave regard for his people, and will provide some one, who, if not sovaliant as the knights-errant of yore, at least will not be inferior tothem in spirit; but God knows what I mean, and I say no more.""Alas!" exclaimed the niece at this, "may I die if my master does notwant to turn knight-errant again;" to which Don Quixote replied, "Aknight-errant I shall die, and let the Turk come down or go up when helikes, and in as strong force as he can, once more I say, God knows whatI mean." But here the barber said, "I ask your worships to give me leaveto tell a short story of something that happened in Seville, which comesso pat to the purpose just now that I should like greatly to tell it."Don Quixote gave him leave, and the rest prepared to listen, and he beganthus:"In the madhouse at Seville there was a man whom his relations had placedthere as being out of his mind. He was a graduate of Osuna in canon law;but even if he had been of Salamanca, it was the opinion of most peoplethat he would have been mad all the same. This graduate, after some yearsof confinement, took it into his head that he was sane and in his fullsenses, and under this impression wrote to the Archbishop, entreating himearnestly, and in very correct language, to have him released from themisery in which he was living; for by God's mercy he had now recoveredhis lost reason, though his relations, in order to enjoy his property,kept him there, and, in spite of the truth, would make him out to be maduntil his dying day. The Archbishop, moved by repeated sensible,well-written letters, directed one of his chaplains to make inquiry ofthe madhouse as to the truth of the licentiate's statements, and to havean interview with the madman himself, and, if it should appear that hewas in his senses, to take him out and restore him to liberty. Thechaplain did so, and the governor assured him that the man was still mad,and that though he often spoke like a highly intelligent person, he wouldin the end break out into nonsense that in quantity and qualitycounterbalanced all the sensible things he had said before, as might beeasily tested by talking to him. The chaplain resolved to try theexperiment, and obtaining access to the madman conversed with him for anhour or more, during the whole of which time he never uttered a word thatwas incoherent or absurd, but, on the contrary, spoke so rationally thatthe chaplain was compelled to believe him to be sane. Among other things,he said the governor was against him, not to lose the presents hisrelations made him for reporting him still mad but with lucid intervals;and that the worst foe he had in his misfortune was his large property;for in order to enjoy it his enemies disparaged and threw doubts upon themercy our Lord had shown him in turning him from a brute beast into aman. In short, he spoke in such a way that he cast suspicion on thegovernor, and made his relations appear covetous and heartless, andhimself so rational that the chaplain determined to take him away withhim that the Archbishop might see him, and ascertain for himself thetruth of the matter. Yielding to this conviction, the worthy chaplainbegged the governor to have the clothes in which the licentiate hadentered the house given to him. The governor again bade him beware ofwhat he was doing, as the licentiate was beyond a doubt still mad; butall his cautions and warnings were unavailing to dissuade the chaplainfrom taking him away. The governor, seeing that it was the order of theArchbishop, obeyed, and they dressed the licentiate in his own clothes,which were new and decent. He, as soon as he saw himself clothed like onein his senses, and divested of the appearance of a madman, entreated thechaplain to permit him in charity to go and take leave of his comradesthe madmen. The chaplain said he would go with him to see what madmenthere were in the house; so they went upstairs, and with them some ofthose who were present. Approaching a cage in which there was a furiousmadman, though just at that moment calm and quiet, the licentiate said tohim, 'Brother, think if you have any commands for me, for I am goinghome, as God has been pleased, in his infinite goodness and mercy,without any merit of mine, to restore me my reason. I am now cured and inmy senses, for with God's power nothing is impossible. Have strong hopeand trust in him, for as he has restored me to my original condition, solikewise he will restore you if you trust in him. I will take care tosend you some good things to eat; and be sure you eat them; for I wouldhave you know I am convinced, as one who has gone through it, that allthis madness of ours comes of having the stomach empty and the brainsfull of wind. Take courage! take courage! for despondency in misfortunebreaks down health and brings on death.'"To all these words of the licentiate another madman in a cage oppositethat of the furious one was listening; and raising himself up from an oldmat on which he lay stark naked, he asked in a loud voice who it was thatwas going away cured and in his senses. The licentiate answered, 'It isI, brother, who am going; I have now no need to remain here any longer,for which I return infinite thanks to Heaven that has had so great mercyupon me.'"'Mind what you are saying, licentiate; don't let the devil deceive you,'replied the madman. 'Keep quiet, stay where you are, and you will saveyourself the trouble of coming back.'"'I know I am cured,' returned the licentiate, 'and that I shall not haveto go stations again.'"'You cured!' said the madman; 'well, we shall see; God be with you; butI swear to you by Jupiter, whose majesty I represent on earth, that forthis crime alone, which Seville is committing to-day in releasing youfrom this house, and treating you as if you were in your senses, I shallhave to inflict such a punishment on it as will be remembered for agesand ages, amen. Dost thou not know, thou miserable little licentiate,that I can do it, being, as I say, Jupiter the Thunderer, who hold in myhands the fiery bolts with which I am able and am wont to threaten andlay waste the world? But in one way only will I punish this ignoranttown, and that is by not raining upon it, nor on any part of its districtor territory, for three whole years, to be reckoned from the day andmoment when this threat is pronounced. Thou free, thou cured, thou in thysenses! and I mad, I disordered, I bound! I will as soon think of sendingrain as of hanging myself."Those present stood listening to the words and exclamations of themadman; but our licentiate, turning to the chaplain and seizing him bythe hands, said to him, 'Be not uneasy, senor; attach no importance towhat this madman has said; for if he is Jupiter and will not send rain,I, who am Neptune, the father and god of the waters, will rain as oftenas it pleases me and may be needful.'"The governor and the bystanders laughed, and at their laughter thechaplain was half ashamed, and he replied, 'For all that, Senor Neptune,it will not do to vex Senor Jupiter; remain where you are, and some otherday, when there is a better opportunity and more time, we will come backfor you.' So they stripped the licentiate, and he was left where he was;and that's the end of the story.""So that's the story, master barber," said Don Quixote, "which came in sopat to the purpose that you could not help telling it? Master shaver,master shaver! how blind is he who cannot see through a sieve. Is itpossible that you do not know that comparisons of wit with wit, valourwith valour, beauty with beauty, birth with birth, are always odious andunwelcome? I, master barber, am not Neptune, the god of the waters, nordo I try to make anyone take me for an astute man, for I am not one. Myonly endeavour is to convince the world of the mistake it makes in notreviving in itself the happy time when the order of knight-errantry wasin the field. But our depraved age does not deserve to enjoy such ablessing as those ages enjoyed when knights-errant took upon theirshoulders the defence of kingdoms, the protection of damsels, the succourof orphans and minors, the chastisement of the proud, and the recompenseof the humble. With the knights of these days, for the most part, it isthe damask, brocade, and rich stuffs they wear, that rustle as they go,not the chain mail of their armour; no knight now-a-days sleeps in theopen field exposed to the inclemency of heaven, and in full panoply fromhead to foot; no one now takes a nap, as they call it, without drawinghis feet out of the stirrups, and leaning upon his lance, as theknights-errant used to do; no one now, issuing from the wood, penetratesyonder mountains, and then treads the barren, lonely shore of thesea--mostly a tempestuous and stormy one--and finding on the beach alittle bark without oars, sail, mast, or tackling of any kind, in theintrepidity of his heart flings himself into it and commits himself tothe wrathful billows of the deep sea, that one moment lift him up toheaven and the next plunge him into the depths; and opposing his breastto the irresistible gale, finds himself, when he least expects it, threethousand leagues and more away from the place where he embarked; andleaping ashore in a remote and unknown land has adventures that deserveto be written, not on parchment, but on brass. But now sloth triumphsover energy, indolence over exertion, vice over virtue, arrogance overcourage, and theory over practice in arms, which flourished and shoneonly in the golden ages and in knights-errant. For tell me, who was morevirtuous and more valiant than the famous Amadis of Gaul? Who morediscreet than Palmerin of England? Who more gracious and easy thanTirante el Blanco? Who more courtly than Lisuarte of Greece? Who moreslashed or slashing than Don Belianis? Who more intrepid than Perion ofGaul? Who more ready to face danger than Felixmarte of Hircania? Who moresincere than Esplandian? Who more impetuous than Don Cirongilio ofThrace? Who more bold than Rodamonte? Who more prudent than King Sobrino?Who more daring than Reinaldos? Who more invincible than Roland? and whomore gallant and courteous than Ruggiero, from whom the dukes of Ferraraof the present day are descended, according to Turpin in his'Cosmography.' All these knights, and many more that I could name, senorcurate, were knights-errant, the light and glory of chivalry. These, orsuch as these, I would have to carry out my plan, and in that case hisMajesty would find himself well served and would save great expense, andthe Turk would be left tearing his beard. And so I will stay where I am,as the chaplain does not take me away; and if Jupiter, as the barber hastold us, will not send rain, here am I, and I will rain when I please. Isay this that Master Basin may know that I understand him.""Indeed, Senor Don Quixote," said the barber, "I did not mean it in thatway, and, so help me God, my intention was good, and your worship oughtnot to be vexed.""As to whether I ought to be vexed or not," returned Don Quixote, "Imyself am the best judge."Hereupon the curate observed, "I have hardly said a word as yet; and Iwould gladly be relieved of a doubt, arising from what Don Quixote hassaid, that worries and works my conscience.""The senor curate has leave for more than that," returned Don Quixote,"so he may declare his doubt, for it is not pleasant to have a doubt onone's conscience.""Well then, with that permission," said the curate, "I say my doubt isthat, all I can do, I cannot persuade myself that the whole pack ofknights-errant you, Senor Don Quixote, have mentioned, were really andtruly persons of flesh and blood, that ever lived in the world; on thecontrary, I suspect it to be all fiction, fable, and falsehood, anddreams told by men awakened from sleep, or rather still half asleep.""That is another mistake," replied Don Quixote, "into which many havefallen who do not believe that there ever were such knights in the world,and I have often, with divers people and on divers occasions, tried toexpose this almost universal error to the light of truth. Sometimes Ihave not been successful in my purpose, sometimes I have, supporting itupon the shoulders of the truth; which truth is so clear that I canalmost say I have with my own eyes seen Amadis of Gaul, who was a man oflofty stature, fair complexion, with a handsome though black beard, of acountenance between gentle and stern in expression, sparing of words,slow to anger, and quick to put it away from him; and as I have depictedAmadis, so I could, I think, portray and describe all the knights-errantthat are in all the histories in the world; for by the perception I havethat they were what their histories describe, and by the deeds they didand the dispositions they displayed, it is possible, with the aid ofsound philosophy, to deduce their features, complexion, and stature.""How big, in your worship's opinion, may the giant Morgante have been,Senor Don Quixote?" asked the barber."With regard to giants," replied Don Quixote, "opinions differ as towhether there ever were any or not in the world; but the Holy Scripture,which cannot err by a jot from the truth, shows us that there were, whenit gives us the history of that big Philistine, Goliath, who was sevencubits and a half in height, which is a huge size. Likewise, in theisland of Sicily, there have been found leg-bones and arm-bones so largethat their size makes it plain that their owners were giants, and as tallas great towers; geometry puts this fact beyond a doubt. But, for allthat, I cannot speak with certainty as to the size of Morgante, though Isuspect he cannot have been very tall; and I am inclined to be of thisopinion because I find in the history in which his deeds are particularlymentioned, that he frequently slept under a roof and as he found housesto contain him, it is clear that his bulk could not have been anythingexcessive.""That is true," said the curate, and yielding to the enjoyment of hearingsuch nonsense, he asked him what was his notion of the features ofReinaldos of Montalban, and Don Roland and the rest of the Twelve Peersof France, for they were all knights-errant."As for Reinaldos," replied Don Quixote, "I venture to say that he wasbroad-faced, of ruddy complexion, with roguish and somewhat prominenteyes, excessively punctilious and touchy, and given to the society ofthieves and scapegraces. With regard to Roland, or Rotolando, or Orlando(for the histories call him by all these names), I am of opinion, andhold, that he was of middle height, broad-shouldered, rather bow-legged,swarthy-complexioned, red-bearded, with a hairy body and a severeexpression of countenance, a man of few words, but very polite andwell-bred.""If Roland was not a more graceful person than your worship hasdescribed," said the curate, "it is no wonder that the fair Lady Angelicarejected him and left him for the gaiety, liveliness, and grace of thatbudding-bearded little Moor to whom she surrendered herself; and sheshowed her sense in falling in love with the gentle softness of Medororather than the roughness of Roland.""That Angelica, senor curate," returned Don Quixote, "was a giddy damsel,flighty and somewhat wanton, and she left the world as full of hervagaries as of the fame of her beauty. She treated with scorn a thousandgentlemen, men of valour and wisdom, and took up with a smooth-facedsprig of a page, without fortune or fame, except such reputation forgratitude as the affection he bore his friend got for him. The great poetwho sang her beauty, the famous Ariosto, not caring to sing heradventures after her contemptible surrender (which probably were not overand above creditable), dropped her where he says:How she received the sceptre of Cathay,Some bard of defter quill may sing some day;and this was no doubt a kind of prophecy, for poets are also calledvates, that is to say diviners; and its truth was made plain; for sincethen a famous Andalusian poet has lamented and sung her tears, andanother famous and rare poet, a Castilian, has sung her beauty.""Tell me, Senor Don Quixote," said the barber here, "among all those whopraised her, has there been no poet to write a satire on this LadyAngelica?""I can well believe," replied Don Quixote, "that if Sacripante or Rolandhad been poets they would have given the damsel a trimming; for it isnaturally the way with poets who have been scorned and rejected by theirladies, whether fictitious or not, in short by those whom they select asthe ladies of their thoughts, to avenge themselves in satires andlibels--a vengeance, to be sure, unworthy of generous hearts; but up tothe present I have not heard of any defamatory verse against the LadyAngelica, who turned the world upside down.""Strange," said the curate; but at this moment they heard the housekeeperand the niece, who had previously withdrawn from the conversation,exclaiming aloud in the courtyard, and at the noise they all ran out.