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The First BookChapter I.
Chapter I.
Wherein Is Rehearsed The Calling And Exercise Of The Renowned Gentleman, Don
Quixote Of The Mancha
[See Quixote And Horse]
There lived not long since, in a certain village of the Mancha, the name
whereof I purposely omit, a gentleman of their calling that use to pile up in
their halls old lances, halberds, morions, and such other armours and weapons.
He was, besides, master of an ancient target, a lean stallion, and a swift
greyhound. His pot consisted daily of somewhat more beef than mutton: a
gallimaufry each night, collops and eggs on Saturdays, lentils on Fridays, and
now and then a lean pigeon on Sundays, did consume three parts of his rents;
the rest and remnant thereof was spent on a jerkin of fine puce, a pair of
velvet hose, with pantofles of the same for the holy-days, and one suit of
the finest vesture; for therewithal he honoured and set out his person on the
workdays. He had in his house a woman-servant of about forty years old, and
a niece not yet twenty, and a man that served him both in field and at home,
and could saddle his horse, and likewise manage a pruning-hook. The master
himself was about fifty years old, of a strong complexion, dry flesh, and a
withered face. He was an early riser, and a great friend of hunting. Some
affirm that his surname was Quixada, or Quesada (for in this there is some
variance among the authors that write his life), although it may be gathered,
by very probable conjectures, that he was called Quixana. Yet all this
concerns our historical relation but little: let it then suffice, that in the
narration thereof we will not vary a jot from the truth.
[See A Horse So Excellent: A horse so excellent should not be without an
appropriate name.]
[See Hero: Don Quixote dreams of being a hero.]
You shall therefore wit, that this gentleman above named, the spurts that
he was idle (which was the longer part of the year), did apply himself wholly
to the reading of books of knighthood, and that with such gusts and delights,
as he almost wholly neglected the exercise of hunting; yea, and the very
administration of his household affairs. And his curiosity and folly came to
that pass, that he made away many acres of arable land to buy him books of
that kind, and therefore he brought to his house as many as ever he could get
of that subject. And among them all, none pleased him better than those which
famous Felician of Silva composed. For the smoothness of his prose, with now
and then some intricate sentence meddled, seemed to him peerless; and
principally when he did read the courtings, or letters of challenge, that
knights sent to ladies, or one to another; where, in many places, he found
written: `The reason of the unreasonableness which against my reason is
wrought, doth so weaken my reason, as with all reason I do justly complain on
your beauty.` And also when he read: `The high heavens, which with your
divinity do fortify you divinely with the stars, and make you deserveress of
the deserts which your greatness deserves,` etc. With these and other such
passages the poor gentleman grew distracted, and was breaking his brains day
and night, to understand and unbowel their sense, an endless labour; for even
Aristotle himself would not understand them, though he were again resuscitated
only for that purpose. He did not like so much the unproportionate blows that
Don Belianis gave and took in fight; for, as he imagined, were the surgeons
never so cunning that cured them, yet was it impossible but that the patient
his face and all his body must remain full of scars and tokens. Yet did he
praise, notwithstanding, in the author of that history, the conclusion of his
book, with the promise of the Endless Adventure; and many times he himself had
a desire to take pen and finish it exactly, as it is there promised; and would
doubtless have performed it, and that certes with happy success, if other more
urgent and continual thoughts had not disturbed him.
Many times did he fall at variance with the curate of his village (who
was a learned man, graduated in Ciguenca) touching who was the better knight,
Palmerin of England, or Amadis de Gaul. But Master Nicholas, the barber of the
same town, would affirm that none of both arrived in worth to the Knight of
the Sun; and if any one knight might paragon with him, it was infallibly Don
Galaor, Amadis de Gaul`s brother, whose nature might fitly be accommodated to
anything; for he was not so coy and whining a knight as his brother, and that
in matters of valour he did not bate him an ace.
In resolution, he plunged himself so deeply in his reading of these
books, as he spent many times in the lecture of them whole days and nights;
and in the end, through his little sleep and much reading, he dried up his
brains in such sort as he lost wholly his judgment. His fantasy was filled
with those things that he read, of enchantments, quarrels, battles,
challenges, wounds, wooings, loves, tempests, and other impossible follies.
And these toys did so firmly possess his imagination with an infallible
opinion that all that machina of dreamed inventions which he read was true, as
he accounted no history in the world to be so certain and sincere as they
were. He was wont to say, that the Cid Ruy Diaz was a very good knight, but
not to be compared to the Knight of the Burning Sword, which, with one thwart
blow, cut asunder two fierce and mighty giants. He agreed better with Bernardo
del Carpio, because he slew the enchanted Roland in Roncesvalles. He likewise
liked of the shift Hercules used when he smothered Anteon, the son of the
earth, between his arms. He praised the giant Morgant marvellously, because,
though he was of that monstrous progeny, who are commonly all of them proud
and rude, yet he was affable and courteous. But he agreed best of all with
Reinauld of Mount Alban; and most of all then, when he saw him sally out of
his castle to rob as many as ever he could meet; and when, moreover, he robbed
the idol of Mahomet, made all of gold, as his history recounts, and would be
content to give his old woman, yea, and his niece also, for a good opportunity
on the traitor Galalon, that he might lamb-skin and trample him into powder.
Finally, his wit being wholly extinguished, he fell into one of the
strangest conceits that ever madman stumbled on in this world; to wit, it
seemed unto him very requisite and behooveful, as well for the augmentation of
his honour as also for the benefit of the commonwealth, that he himself should
become a knight-errant, and go throughout the world, with his horse and
armour, to seek adventures, and practise in person all that he had read was
used by knights of yore; revenging of all kinds of injuries, and offering
himself to occasions and dangers, which, being once happily achieved, might
gain him eternal renown. The poor soul did already figure himself crowned,
through the valour of his arm, at least Emperor of Trapisonda; and led thus by
these soothing thoughts, and borne away with the exceeding delight he found in
them, he hastened all that he might, to effect his urging desires.
And first of all he caused certain old rusty arms to be scoured, that
belonged to his great-grandfather, and lay many ages neglected and forgotten
in a by-corner of his house; he trimmed and dressed them the best he might,
and then perceived a great defect they had; for they wanted a helmet, and had
only a plain morion; but he by his industry supplied that want, and framed,
with certain papers pasted together, a beaver for his morion. True it is, that
to make trial whether his pasted beaver was strong enough, and might abide the
adventure of a blow, he out with his sword and gave it a blow or two, and with
the very first did quite undo his whole week`s labour. The facility
wherewithal it was dissolved liked him nothing; wherefore, to assure himself
better the next time from the like danger, he made it anew, placing certain
iron bars within it, in so artificial a manner, as he rested at once
satisfied, both with his invention, and also the solidity of the work; and
without making a second trial, he deputed and held it in estimation of a most
excellent beaver. Then did he presently visit his horse, who (though he had
more quarters than pence in a sixpence, through leanness, and more faults than
Gonella`s), having nothing on him but skin and bone; yet he thought that
neither Alexander`s Bucephalus, nor the Cid his horse Balieca, were in any
respect equal to him. He spent four days devising him a name; for (as he
reasoned to himself) it was not fit that so famous a knight`s horse, and
chiefly being so good a beast, should want a known name; and therefore he
endeavoured to give him such a one as should both declare what sometime he had
been, before he pertained to a knight-errant, and also what at present he
was; for it stood greatly with reason, seeing his lord and master changed his
estate and vocation, that he should alter likewise his denomination, and get a
new one, that were famous and altisonant, as became the new order and exercise
which he now professed; and therefore, after many other names which he framed,
blotted out, rejected, added, undid, and turned again to frame in his memory
and imagination, he finally concluded to name him Rozinante, a name in his
opinion lofty, full, and significant of what he had been when he was a plain
jade, before he was exalted to his new dignity; being, as he thought, the best
carriage beast of the world. The name being thus given to his horse, and so to
his mind, he resolved to give himself a name also; and in that thought he
laboured other eight days; and, in conclusion, called himself Don Quixote;
whence (as is said) the authors of this most true history deduce, that he was
undoubtedly named Quixada, and not Quesada, as others would have it. And
remembering that the valorous Amadis was not satisfied only with the dry name
of Amadis, but added thereunto the name of his kingdom and country, to render
his own more redoubted, terming himself Amadis de Gaul; so he, like a good
knight, would add to his own that also of his province, and call himself Don
Quixote of the Mancha, wherewith it appeared that he very lively declared his
lineage and country, which he did honour, by taking it for his surname.
His armour being scoured, his morion transformed into a helmet, his horse
named, and himself confirmed with a new name also, he forthwith bethought
himself, that now he wanted nothing but a lady on whom he might bestow his
service and affection; for the knight-errant that is loveless resembles a
tree that wants leaves and fruit, or a body without a soul: and therefore he
was wont to say, `If I should for my sins, or by good hap, encounter there
abroad with some giant (as knights-errant do ordinarily), and that I should
overthrow him with one blow to the ground, or cut him with a stroke in two
halves, or finally overcome, and make him yield to me, would it not be very
expedient to have some lady to whom I might present him? And that he, entering
in her presence, do kneel before my sweet lady, and say unto her, with an
humble and submissive voice, "Madam, I am the giant Caraculiambro, lord of the
island called Malindrania, whom the never - too - much - praised knight, Don
Quixote de la Mancha, hath overcome in single combat; and hath commanded to
present myself to your greatness, that it may please your highness to dispose
of me according unto your liking!"` Oh, how glad was our knight when he had
made this discourse to himself, but chiefly when he had found out one whom he
might call his lady! For, as it is imagined, there dwelt in the next village
unto his manor, a young handsome wench, with whom he was sometime in love,
although, as is understood, she never knew or took notice thereof. She was
called Aldonsa Lorenzo, and her he thought fittest to entitle with the name of
Lady of his thoughts, and searching a name for her that should not vary much
from her own, and yet should draw and aveer somewhat to that of a princess or
great lady, he called her Dulcinea del Toboso (for there she was born), a name
is his conceit harmonious, strange, and significant, like to all the others
that he had given to his things.
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