第 67 页

"In the madhouse at Seville there was a man whom his relations hadplaced there as being out of his mind. He was a graduate of Osuna incanon law; but even if he had been of Salamanca, it was the opinion ofmost people that he would have been mad all the same. This graduate,after some years of confinement, took it into his head that he wassane and in his full senses, and under this impression wrote to theArchbishop, entreating him earnestly, and in very correct language, tohave him released from the misery in which he was living; for by God'smercy he had now recovered his lost reason, though his relations, inorder to enjoy his property, kept him there, and, in spite of thetruth, would make him out to be mad until his dying day. TheArchbishop, moved by repeated sensible, well-written letters, directedone of his chaplains to make inquiry of the madhouse as to the truthof the licentiate's statements, and to have an interview with themadman himself, and, if it should appear that he was in his senses, totake him out and restore him to liberty. The chaplain did so, andthe governor assured him that the man was still mad, and that thoughhe often spoke like a highly intelligent person, he would in the endbreak out into nonsense that in quantity and quality counterbalancedall the sensible things he had said before, as might be easilytested by talking to him. The chaplain resolved to try the experiment,and obtaining access to the madman conversed with him for an hour ormore, during the whole of which time he never uttered a word thatwas incoherent or absurd, but, on the contrary, spoke so rationallythat the chaplain was compelled to believe him to be sane. Among otherthings, he said the governor was against him, not to lose the presentshis relations made him for reporting him still mad but with lucidintervals; and that the worst foe he had in his misfortune was hislarge property; for in order to enjoy it his enemies disparaged andthrew doubts upon the mercy our Lord had shown him in turning him froma brute beast into a man. In short, he spoke in such a way that hecast suspicion on the governor, and made his relations appear covetousand heartless, and himself so rational that the chaplain determined totake him away with him that the Archbishop might see him, andascertain for himself the truth of the matter. Yielding to thisconviction, the worthy chaplain begged the governor to have theclothes in which the licentiate had entered the house given to him.The governor again bade him beware of what he was doing, as thelicentiate was beyond a doubt still mad; but all his cautions andwarnings were unavailing to dissuade the chaplain from taking himaway. The governor, seeing that it was the order of the Archbishop,obeyed, and they dressed the licentiate in his own clothes, which werenew and decent. He, as soon as he saw himself clothed like one inhis senses, and divested of the appearance of a madman, entreatedthe chaplain to permit him in charity to go and take leave of hiscomrades the madmen. The chaplain said he would go with him to seewhat madmen there were in the house; so they went upstairs, and withthem some of those who were present. Approaching a cage in which therewas a furious madman, though just at that moment calm and quiet, thelicentiate said to him, 'Brother, think if you have any commands forme, for I am going home, as God has been pleased, in his infinitegoodness and mercy, without any merit of mine, to restore me myreason. I am now cured and in my senses, for with God's powernothing is impossible. Have strong hope and trust in him, for as hehas restored me to my original condition, so likewise he willrestore you if you trust in him. I will take care to send you somegood things to eat; and be sure you eat them; for I would have youknow I am convinced, as one who has gone through it, that all thismadness of ours comes of having the stomach empty and the brainsfull of wind. Take courage! take courage! for despondency inmisfortune breaks down health and brings on death.'

"To all these words of the licentiate another madman in a cageopposite that of the furious one was listening; and raising himself upfrom an old mat on which he lay stark naked, he asked in a loudvoice who it was that was going away cured and in his senses. Thelicentiate answered, 'It is I, brother, who am going; I have now noneed to remain here any longer, for which I return infinite thanksto Heaven that has had so great mercy upon me.'

"'Mind what you are saying, licentiate; don't let the devildeceive you,' replied the madman. 'Keep quiet, stay where you are, andyou will save yourself the trouble of coming back.'

"'I know I am cured,' returned the licentiate, 'and that I shall nothave to go stations again.'

"'You cured!' said the madman; 'well, we shall see; God be with you;but I swear to you by Jupiter, whose majesty I represent on earth,that for this crime alone, which Seville is committing to-day inreleasing you from this house, and treating you as if you were in yoursenses, I shall have to inflict such a punishment on it as will beremembered for ages and ages, amen. Dost thou not know, thou miserablelittle licentiate, that I can do it, being, as I say, Jupiter theThunderer, who hold in my hands the fiery bolts with which I am ableand am wont to threaten and lay waste the world? But in one way onlywill I punish this ignorant town, and that is by not raining uponit, nor on any part of its district or territory, for three wholeyears, to be reckoned from the day and moment when this threat ispronounced. Thou free, thou cured, thou in thy senses! and I mad, Idisordered, I bound! I will as soon think of sending rain as ofhanging myself.

"Those present stood listening to the words and exclamations ofthe madman; but our licentiate, turning to the chaplain and seizinghim by the hands, said to him, 'Be not uneasy, senor; attach noimportance to what this madman has said; for if he is Jupiter and willnot send rain, I, who am Neptune, the father and god of the waters,will rain as often as it pleases me and may be needful.'

"The governor and the bystanders laughed, and at their laughterthe chaplain was half ashamed, and he replied, 'For all that, SenorNeptune, it will not do to vex Senor Jupiter; remain where you are,and some other day, when there is a better opportunity and moretime, we will come back for you.' So they stripped the licentiate, andhe was left where he was; and that's the end of the story."

"So that's the story, master barber," said Don Quixote, "whichcame in so pat to the purpose that you could not help telling it?Master shaver, master shaver! how blind is he who cannot see through asieve. Is it possible that you do not know that comparisons of witwith wit, valour with valour, beauty with beauty, birth with birth,are always odious and unwelcome? I, master barber, am not Neptune, thegod of the waters, nor do I try to make anyone take me for an astuteman, for I am not one. My only endeavour is to convince the world ofthe mistake it makes in not reviving in itself the happy time when theorder of knight-errantry was in the field. But our depraved age doesnot deserve to enjoy such a blessing as those ages enjoyed whenknights-errant took upon their shoulders the defence of kingdoms,the protection of damsels, the succour of orphans and minors, thechastisement of the proud, and the recompense of the humble. Withthe knights of these days, for the most part, it is the damask,brocade, and rich stuffs they wear, that rustle as they go, not thechain mail of their armour; no knight now-a-days sleeps in the openfield 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,penetrates yonder mountains, and then treads the barren, lonelyshore of the sea- mostly a tempestuous and stormy one- and findingon the beach a little bark without oars, sail, mast, or tackling ofany kind, in the intrepidity of his heart flings himself into it andcommits himself to the wrathful billows of the deep sea, that onemoment lift him up to heaven and the next plunge him into thedepths; and opposing his breast to the irresistible gale, findshimself, when he least expects it, three thousand leagues and moreaway from the place where he embarked; and leaping ashore in aremote and unknown land has adventures that deserve to be written, noton parchment, but on brass. But now sloth triumphs over energy,indolence over exertion, vice over virtue, arrogance over courage, andtheory over practice in arms, which flourished and shone only in thegolden 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? Whomore slashed or slashing than Don Belianis? Who more intrepid thanPerion of Gaul? Who more ready to face danger than Felixmarte ofHircania? Who more sincere than Esplandian? Who more impetuous thanDon Cirongilio of Thrace? Who more bold than Rodamonte? Who moreprudent than King Sobrino? Who more daring than Reinaldos? Who moreinvincible than Roland? and who more gallant and courteous thanRuggiero, from whom the dukes of Ferrara of the present day aredescended, according to Turpin in his 'Cosmography.' All theseknights, and many more that I could name, senor curate, wereknights-errant, the light and glory of chivalry. These, or such asthese, I would have to carry out my plan, and in that case his Majestywould find himself well served and would save great expense, and theTurk 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 barberhas told us, will not send rain, here am I, and I will rain when Iplease. I say this that Master Basin may know that I understand him."

"Indeed, Senor Don Quixote," said the barber, "I did not mean itin that way, and, so help me God, my intention was good, and yourworship ought not 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; andI would gladly be relieved of a doubt, arising from what Don Quixotehas said, that worries and works my conscience."

"The senor curate has leave for more than that," returned DonQuixote, "so he may declare his doubt, for it is not pleasant tohave a doubt on one's conscience."

"Well then, with that permission," said the curate, "I say mydoubt is that, all I can do, I cannot persuade myself that the wholepack of knights-errant you, Senor Don Quixote, have mentioned, werereally and truly persons of flesh and blood, that ever lived in theworld; on the contrary, I suspect it to be all fiction, fable, andfalsehood, and dreams told by men awakened from sleep, or rather stillhalf asleep."

"That is another mistake," replied Don Quixote, "into which manyhave fallen who do not believe that there ever were such knights inthe world, and I have often, with divers people and on diversoccasions, tried to expose this almost universal error to the light oftruth. Sometimes I have not been successful in my purpose, sometimes Ihave, supporting it upon the shoulders of the truth; which truth is soclear that I can almost say I have with my own eyes seen Amadis ofGaul, who was a man of lofty stature, fair complexion, with a handsomethough black beard, of a countenance between gentle and stern inexpression, sparing of words, slow to anger, and quick to put itaway from him; and as I have depicted Amadis, so I could, I think,portray and describe all the knights-errant that are in all thehistories in the world; for by the perception I have that they werewhat their histories describe, and by the deeds they did and thedispositions they displayed, it is possible, with the aid of soundphilosophy, to deduce their features, complexion, and stature."

"How big, in your worship's opinion, may the giant Morgante havebeen, 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 HolyScripture, which cannot err by a jot from the truth, shows us thatthere were, when it gives us the history of that big Philistine,Goliath, who was seven cubits and a half in height, which is a hugesize. Likewise, in the island of Sicily, there have been foundleg-bones and arm-bones so large that their size makes it plain thattheir owners were giants, and as tall as great towers; geometry putsthis fact beyond a doubt. But, for all that, I cannot speak withcertainty as to the size of Morgante, though I suspect he cannothave been very tall; and I am inclined to be of this opinion because Ifind in the history in which his deeds are particularly mentioned,that he frequently slept under a roof and as he found houses tocontain him, it is clear that his bulk could not have been anythingexcessive."

"That is true," said the curate, and yielding to the enjoyment ofhearing such nonsense, he asked him what was his notion of thefeatures of Reinaldos of Montalban, and Don Roland and the rest of theTwelve Peers of France, for they were all knights-errant.

"As for Reinaldos," replied Don Quixote, "I venture to say that hewas broad-faced, of ruddy complexion, with roguish and somewhatprominent eyes, excessively punctilious and touchy, and given to thesociety of thieves and scapegraces. With regard to Roland, orRotolando, or Orlando (for the histories call him by all these names),I am of opinion, and hold, that he was of middle height,broad-shouldered, rather bow-legged, swarthy-complexioned,red-bearded, with a hairy body and a severe expression of countenance,a man of few words, but very polite and well-bred."

"If Roland was not a more graceful person than your worship hasdescribed," said the curate, "it is no wonder that the fair LadyAngelica rejected him and left him for the gaiety, liveliness, andgrace of that budding-bearded little Moor to whom she surrenderedherself; and she showed her sense in falling in love with the gentlesoftness of Medoro rather than the roughness of Roland."

"That Angelica, senor curate," returned Don Quixote, "was a giddydamsel, flighty and somewhat wanton, and she left the world as full ofher vagaries as of the fame of her beauty. She treated with scorn athousand gentlemen, men of valour and wisdom, and took up with asmooth-faced sprig of a page, without fortune or fame, except suchreputation for gratitude as the affection he bore his friend got forhim. The great poet who sang her beauty, the famous Ariosto, notcaring to sing her adventures after her contemptible surrender(which probably were not over and above creditable), dropped her wherehe says: