Chapter L. Of the sensible disputes Don Quixote and the canon had, with other events

“That is a fine thing to say!” answered Don Quixote. “Books that are printed under royal license and with the approval of those to whom they were submitted, and that are read with general pleasure and praised by great and small, by poor and rich, by the learned and the ignorant, by commoners and gentlemen, in short, by every kind of person of whatever estate and condition, are they to be lies? And all the more when they bear such an appearance of truth, since they tell us the father, the mother, the country, the kindred, the age, the place, and the exploits, point by point and day by day, that such a knight or such knights performed. Be silent, your grace, utter no such blasphemy (and believe me, I am advising you in this to do what a sensible man ought), but read them, and you will see the pleasure you get from reading them. If not, tell me: is there any greater delight than to see, as we might say, here and now, a great lake of pitch appearing before us, boiling and bubbling, with a multitude of serpents, snakes, and lizards, and many other kinds of fierce and fearsome animals swimming about and crossing it in every direction, and from the middle of the lake a most mournful voice coming forth and saying: ‘You, knight, whoever you may be, who are gazing on this fearful lake, if you wish to attain the good that lies hidden beneath these black waters, show the valor of your stout heart and cast yourself into the midst of its black and burning liquor; for if you do not, you shall not be worthy to see the high marvels contained and enclosed within the seven castles of the seven fays that lie beneath this blackness’? And the knight has scarcely finished hearing the fearful voice when, without further reckoning with himself, without stopping to consider the danger he is running, and without even stripping off the burden of his heavy armor, commending himself to God and to his lady, he flings himself into the middle of the boiling lake, and, when he least expects it and does not know where he is going to stop, he finds himself among flowering meadows with which the Elysian Fields bear no comparison at all. There it seems to him that the sky is more transparent and the sun shines with a newer brightness; there meets his eyes a pleasant grove made of trees so green and leafy that their verdure gladdens the sight, while his ears are entertained by the sweet and untaught song of the countless little painted birds that flit across the tangled boughs. Here he comes upon a brook whose cool waters, like liquid crystal, run over fine sands and little white pebbles that look like sifted gold and purest pearls; yonder he sees a cunningly wrought fountain of mottled jasper and smooth marble; over here he sees another adorned in the grotto style, where the tiny shells of clams, with the twisted white and yellow houses of the snail, set in disordered order, and pieces of shining crystal and counterfeit emeralds mixed among them, make a work of many colors, so that art, imitating nature, seems there to surpass it. Yonder, all of a sudden, a strong castle or a splendid palace appears before him, whose walls are of solid gold, its battlements of diamonds, its gates of jacinth; in short, it is of such marvelous construction that, though the material of which it is made is nothing less than diamonds, carbuncles, rubies, pearls, gold, and emeralds, its workmanship is of greater worth. And is there anything more to see, after seeing this, than to see a goodly number of damsels come out of the castle gate, whose gallant and splendid dresses, if I set myself now to describe them as the histories describe them to us, I should never be done; and then the one who seemed the chief of them all taking by the hand the bold knight who cast himself into the boiling lake, and leading him without a word into the rich palace or castle, and having him stripped as naked as his mother bore him, and bathing him in warm waters, and then anointing him all over with sweet-smelling ointments, and putting on him a shirt of the finest sendal, all fragrant and perfumed; and another damsel coming and throwing over his shoulders a mantle that, at the very least of leasts, is said to be worth a city, and even more? Then what is it to see, when they tell us that after all this they lead him to another hall, where he finds the tables laid in such order that he is left lost in wonder? What, to see them pour water over his hands, all distilled from ambergris and fragrant flowers? What, to see them seat him on a chair of ivory? What, to see all the damsels serve him, keeping a marvelous silence? What, to see them bring him such a variety of dishes, so deliciously prepared, that his appetite does not know which to reach for? What will it be to hear the music that plays while he eats, without anyone knowing who sings it or where it sounds from? And, when the meal is over and the tables cleared, as the knight sits leaning back in his chair, perhaps picking his teeth, as the custom is, for another damsel, far more beautiful than any of the first, to come in unexpectedly at the door of the hall and sit down beside the knight, and begin to tell him what castle that is, and how she lies enchanted in it, with other things that hold the knight in suspense and astonish the readers who are reading his history? I will not dwell on this any longer, for from it may be gathered that any part one reads of any history of a knight-errant must bring pleasure and wonder to whoever reads it. And let your grace believe me, and, as I have said to you before, read these books, and you will see how they banish whatever melancholy you may have and improve your disposition, if by chance it is a bad one. For my own part I can say that, since I became a knight-errant, I am valiant, courteous, liberal, well-bred, generous, polite, bold, gentle, patient, an endurer of hardships, of imprisonments, of enchantments; and, although only a short while ago I saw myself shut up in a cage like a madman, I expect, through the valor of my arm, with heaven’s favor and fortune not against me, to see myself in a few days king of some kingdom, where I may show the gratitude and liberality my heart holds. For, by my faith, sir, a poor man is barred from showing the virtue of liberality to anyone, however richly he may possess it; and a gratitude that lives only in the wish is a dead thing, as faith without works is dead. For this reason I should like fortune to offer me soon some occasion of becoming an emperor, so that I may show my heart by doing good to my friends, especially to this poor Sancho Panza, my squire, who is the best man in the world, and I should like to give him a county that I promised him a long while ago; except that I fear he will not have the ability to govern his estate.”

Sancho heard almost these last words of his master’s, and said to him:

“Your grace just work at giving me that county, Señor Don Quixote, as much promised by your grace as looked forward to by me, and I promise you I won’t be short of the ability to govern it; and, if I should be short of it, I’ve heard tell that there are men in the world who take lords’ estates on lease and pay them so much a year, and they take care of the governing themselves, and the lord lies with his legs stretched out, enjoying the rent they give him, without bothering about anything else; and that’s what I’ll do, and I won’t haggle over a bit more or a bit less, but I’ll hand it all over straightaway and enjoy my rent like a duke, and that’s their business.”

“That, brother Sancho,” said the canon, “holds as far as enjoying the rent goes; but the administering of justice is something the lord of the estate must attend to himself, and here is where ability and good judgment come in, and above all a good intention to do right; for if this is lacking at the start, the means and the ends will always go astray; and so God usually helps the good intentions of the simple as much as He frustrates the bad ones of the clever.”

“I don’t know about those philosophies,” answered Sancho Panza, “but I do know that as soon as I had the county I’d know how to rule it; for I’ve as much soul as the next man, and as much body as the biggest, and I’d be as much king of my estate as anybody is of his; and being king, I’d do as I liked; and doing as I liked, I’d have my own way; and having my own way, I’d be content; and when a man’s content, he’s nothing more to wish for; and having nothing more to wish for, that’s that; and let the estate come, and goodbye and be seeing you, as one blind man said to the other.”

“Those are not bad philosophies, as you say, Sancho; but, for all that, there is a great deal to be said on this matter of counties.”

To which Don Quixote replied:

“I do not know that there is more to be said; I am guided only by the example of the great Amadís of Gaul, who made his squire count of the Firm Isle; and so I may, without any scruple of conscience, make Sancho Panza a count, for he is one of the best squires that knight-errant ever had.”

The canon was astonished at the well-ordered nonsense Don Quixote had uttered, at the way he had painted the adventure of the Knight of the Lake, and at the impression the studied lies of the books he had read had made on him; and, finally, he was astonished at the foolishness of Sancho, who longed so eagerly to obtain the county his master had promised him.

At this point the servants the canon had sent to the inn for the sumpter mule with the provisions came back, and, making a table of a carpet and the green grass of the meadow, they sat down in the shade of some trees and ate there, so that the ox-driver should not lose the advantage of that spot, as has been said. And while they were eating, they suddenly heard a loud crashing and the sound of a bell coming from among some brambles and thick bushes close by, and at the same instant they saw come out of that undergrowth a beautiful she-goat, her whole hide spotted with black, white, and brown. Behind her came a goatherd shouting at her and calling to her in the words goatherds use, to make her stop or go back to the flock. The runaway goat, fearful and terrified, came up to the company as if seeking their protection, and stopped there. The goatherd came up and, seizing her by the horns, as if she were capable of reasoning and understanding, said to her:

“Ah, you wild one, you wild one, Spotty, Spotty, how lame you go about these days! What wolves are frightening you, my daughter? Won’t you tell me what this is, my beauty? But what can it be except that you’re a female and can’t keep still? Bad luck to your nature, and to the nature of all those you take after! Come back, come back, my friend; for if you won’t be as happy, at least you’ll be safer in your fold or with your companions; for if you, who are supposed to guard them and lead them, go about so unguided and so misguided, what will become of them?”

The goatherd’s words gave great amusement to those who heard them, especially to the canon, who said to him:

“On your life, brother, calm yourself a little and do not be in such a hurry to get that goat back to her flock; for, since she is a female, as you say, she must follow her natural instinct, however much you set yourself to hinder it. Take this mouthful and have a drink, and that will cool your temper, and meanwhile the goat will rest.”

And saying this and handing him the loins of a cold rabbit on the point of his knife were one and the same. The goatherd took it and thanked him; he drank and calmed down, and then said:

“I wouldn’t want your graces to take me for a simpleton because I talked so sensibly to this animal; for, truly, the words I said to her are not without a hidden meaning. I’m a countryman, but not so much of one that I don’t know how to deal with men and with beasts.”

“That I can well believe,” said the priest, “for I know already from experience that the mountains breed scholars and shepherds’ huts hold philosophers.”

“At least, sir,” replied the goatherd, “they shelter men who have learned their lesson; and so that you may believe this truth and lay your hand on it, though it may seem that I am inviting myself without being asked, if it does not annoy you and you are willing, gentlemen, to lend me an attentive ear for a short while, I will tell you a true story that will bear out what that gentleman” (pointing to the priest) “has said, and my own words too.”

To this Don Quixote answered:

“Since I see that this case has a certain something of the shadow of an adventure of chivalry about it, I, for my part, shall hear you, brother, most gladly, and so will all these gentlemen, for they are very sensible and fond of curious novelties that hold, gladden, and entertain the senses, as I have no doubt your tale will do. Begin, then, friend, for we shall all listen.”

“Count me out,” said Sancho, “for I’m off to that brook with this pie, where I mean to stuff myself enough for three days; because I’ve heard my master Don Quixote say that the squire of a knight-errant must eat whenever he gets the chance, until he can eat no more, because they often happen to wander into a forest so tangled that they can’t find their way out of it for six days; and if a man hasn’t eaten his fill, or his saddlebags aren’t well stocked, there he may stay, as he often does, turned into mummy meat.”

“You are in the right, Sancho,” said Don Quixote. “Go where you will and eat what you can; for I am satisfied already, and all I lack is to give my soul its refreshment, as I shall by listening to this good man’s tale.”

“So shall we all give ours,” said the canon.

And then he asked the goatherd to begin what he had promised. The goatherd gave the goat, whom he was holding by the horns, two pats on the back, saying to her:

“Lie down beside me, Spotty, for we have time enough to go back to our fold.”

The goat seemed to understand him, for as soon as her master sat down, she stretched out beside him very calmly and, looking up into his face, seemed to show that she was paying attention to what the goatherd was saying; and he began his story in this manner: