To this my companion replied, that though he knew himself to be very little, yet that he was not so diminutive as some persons affected to think him.
“But,” added he, pursuing his story, “you must know that my father was going about the camp in the way I have described, and seeing that the two wings of the Imperial army were hotly engaged with the enemy, he felt impelled to lay his hand on his sword; a trusty weapon, which, though it had been unsheathed, and had seen daylight on several occasions of urgent necessity, yet, on all those occasions, it had modestly shrunk back into the scabbard unstained with hostile blood. To tell all my father’s valorous deeds in the battle, would be a long and tedious tale; but the sum of his prowess is well known to fame in my native place, Villar del Olmo, and its environs. Laden with upwards of thirty heads of the heretics whom he had slain, he presented himself, after the victory, to the illustrious emperor, who was at that moment engaged in dictating to his maestre de campo, Alonzo Vivas, the three notable words of Julius Cæsar, which he repeated in Spanish, altering the third, as became a Christian prince, in this wise,—‘Vine, vi y Dios venció.’[H] The emperor, elated with his victory, and thinking it a fitting time to distribute rewards, conferred on my father the rank of captain. And though there were not wanting malicious tongues to declare that my father had cut off the heads from dead bodies, as they lay on the field of battle, yet nevertheless he was made a captain, in spite of the murmurs of envious slanderers, who are at all times ready to disturb the peace of the community; and in truth, whether my father’s merits were great or small, he did not think it advisable to make them a matter of dispute.”
“Now,” said I, “since you have at length brought your story to an end we will again turn to this book called ‘Don Quixote.’ You say it is full of absurdities and nonsense, but I do assure you that some who have read it, pronounce it to be as entertaining as any work ever written in Spain, and they affirm that it is full of humour and truth. True, it is sailing with no very fair wind over the stormy ocean of criticism; which is only one of the many misfortunes that assail its author; but the tardiness of the learned to approve this work, may possibly redound to its future fame and glory.”
“This book,” pursued my companion, “which you say is so diverting, and written with so reasonable and praiseworthy an object, appears to me exceedingly silly and irrational. Can anything be more absurd than the idea of curing the taste for reading books of chivalry, (which are objected to because of their falsehood and extravagance) by the perusal of another book still more false and extravagant? Who can imagine a man so infatuated as to put faith in the stories related in such books, and at length becoming so crazy as to sally from his home in quest of adventures, fancying himself to be out and out a knight-errant; and not even the many cudgellings he receives can drive the insane notions from his head. When did the luckless author ever see such lunatics wandering at large through the world?”
Hereupon the bachelor ran into a string of questions worthy of that most indefatigable of questioners the lately defunct Almirante,[I] and he wound up his interrogatories by saying, “Can any one persuade himself into the belief that Palmerius of England, Florindos and Floriandos are to be seen going about armed cap-à-pie, like the figures in old tapestry on tavern walls?[J] I would advise this author,” pursued he, “to cultivate for better objects the talent he undoubtedly possesses, and to write no more such stupid books as this Don Quixote, which will never out-root from the popular mind the vitiated taste for books of chivalry. I would tell him all this and much more, for I am not at a loss for words, neither am I wanting in memory or information; and I feel a desire to correct and castigate the faults of others, though unluckily I cannot mend my own. Moreover, you must know, that I am a philosopher, and that I have studied in the new school of Doña Oliva,[K] the knowledge of myself; and whosoever acquires self knowledge, may be said to possess no trivial attainment. Let me tell you, moreover, that the doctrine of Doña Oliva is not to be despised because it comes from a woman; for there have been many women in the world whose learning has entitled them to respect and admiration. Without looking back to remoter times, I may mention the recently deceased Countess de Tendilla, the mother of the three Mendozas, whose names will be proclaimed to remote ages by the voice of Fame.[L] Then there was Madama Passier, whose rare genius and eloquence have been swept away by death, like the vine by the keen wind of October. In honour of her literary attainments that lady was buried with pompous funeral rites, and many learned men have written elegies to her memory. There is a book of letters by Madama Passier, full of erudition and sound morality, which I would recommend to the attention of the author of Don Quixote.”[M]
“How, friend bachelor,” exclaimed I, “do you deny that knights-errant are existing in the world in this our age of iron? And does your memory so far fail that you forget how many persons implicitly believe all the extravagant stories related in books of chivalry,—stories which every one, down to the most ignorant of the common people, know by heart? Need I call to your recollection the mad exploits of that famous knight, Don Suero de Quiñones, who, with nine gentlemen, his companions, demanded leave of the most high and puissant King of Castile, John II. to rescue his liberty, (held captive by a lady) by breaking three hundred lances in the space of thirty days, with certain knights and gentlemen who might enter the lists against him. And surely you must remember how the said knight, Don Suero de Quiñones defended the Honroso Paso, near the bridge of Orbigo; and how he was there disburthened of the iron collar which he wore every Thursday round his neck in token of servitude and captivity. And with him fought in defence of the pass, Lope de Estuñiga, Diego de Bazán, Pedro de Nava, and other hidalgos, to the number of nine, all of them devoted knights-errant. They shivered lances with more than seventy adventurers, who went thither to prove their skill and prowess. Surely these were knights-errant of real flesh and blood, and not mere puppets. The conflict of the Paso Honroso is narrated in a book written by a friar named Pineda, who abridged it from an old manuscript work.[N] Moreover, friend bachelor, have you not heard of the adventure of the Canon Almela, who was at the conquest of Grenada, with two horsemen and seven followers on foot? Such was his veneration for knight-errantry and everything connected with it, that he collected and preserved all sorts of old and worthless objects, because he believed they had belonged to certain renowned heroes of the days of chivalry. He wore girded at his side a sword which he affirmed had belonged to the Cid Ruy Díaz.[O] This he said he knew from certain letters inscribed on the sword, though, in fact, those letters were perfectly illegible, and neither he nor any one else could decipher them.”
“All that you say is perfectly true, Señor Soldado,” replied the bachelor; “and I have only to observe that the events to which you allude are all of old date. Without going quite so far back, let us see what happened in the time of the Emperor Charles V., who directed a certain Bishop of Bordeaux, (and he would have cared as little for saying the same to Archbishop Turpin) to inform the King of France that he had acted with rudeness and discourtesy. Whereupon a messenger was shortly after despatched from the said King of France, and another from King Henry of England, summoning the emperor to meet them in the lists conformably with the laws of chivalry. Now, I recollect having been told by my father, (who was a man well versed in these points of honour, though he did not himself act upon them, for certain reasons of his own,) that the great emperor finding himself challenged with all the solemnity of the laws of the duelo, took counsel of his cousin, Don Diego, Duke del Infantado, as to the course he ought to pursue.[P] Don Diego advised him by no means to accept the challenge; for seeing that the King of France owed his majesty a large debt, the consequence would be that all debts, known and acknowledged would be settled by recourse to arms, a thing at variance with reason and justice. Rest assured that such absurd encounters have no existence save in silly books of chivalry, and in plays which in our time have been taken from them, but which in the time of Lope de Rueda, Gil Vicente, and Alonso de Cisneros would not have been tolerated on the stage.”[Q]
“Nevertheless,” pursued my loquacious companion, after a brief pause, “methinks I should like to see a return of the good old days of knight-errantry. How I should enjoy setting forth some fine morning to the chase, with hounds and huntsmen, dressed in the cuero,[59] lined with squirrel skin, such as used to be worn by great lords when they went a-hunting, and with a horn slung round my neck. And when in the thickets of the forest, suppose a storm should come on, the wind blowing and the rain pouring, and in midst of the darkness, suppose I should lose my way in an intricate place, where no one can venture to penetrate for fear of the wild beasts that infest it. And there, perchance, I meet a courteous prince, comely and valiant, who like myself has lost his way. The young prince may have left his court and wandered unattended in quest of adventures. He may be named the Knight of the Griffin, or the Knight of the Red Scarf. He is courteous and fair of speech, and seeing in me a knight of noble comportment, he kindly offers me consolation in my trouble. And lo! all on a sudden there appears an ugly little dwarf, who says, ‘Prepare, Knight of the Griffin, or of the Red Scarf, (or whatsoever surname he may bear,) prepare for the most marvellous adventure that ever knight-errant encountered. Know that the Princess Bacalambruna, who by the death of her father, Borborifon, (he of the wry nose,) has become mistress of the fair castle whose white walls rise in yonder plain, is deeply enamoured of you, whom she regards as the model of perfection in chivalry. When night draws her dark mantle over the earth, wend your way to the castle, whose gates will be open to receive you; there the beauteous princess awaits your coming.’
“With these words the hideous little dwarf vanishes. Then let us suppose that the Knight of the Griffin, addressing himself to me, declares that he cannot go to the enchanted castle to visit the princess, because he is in love with the beauteous Arsinda, the daughter of King Trapobana Quinquirlimpuz. Hearing this I determine to go in his stead, and to present myself to the lovely Princess Bacalambruna. Mounting my fiery steed I gallop off, and speedily reach the gates of the enchanted castle. I enter without any one attempting to stop me, and, what is still more strange, without any one coming out to greet me, a thing quite at variance with the laws of courtesy. We will suppose that night has now set in, and I find in the court-yard of the castle a torch ready lighted. Straightway it places itself before my eyes, and moves onward to light me. The torch leading the way, and I following, I soon find myself in a splendid palace, all glittering with gold, silver, and precious stones. I enter a sumptuous chamber, covered with a carpet of silk, embroidered with gold, where I behold the Princess Bacalambruna anxiously awaiting the arrival of the Knight of the Griffin. She is surprised and alarmed on beholding me, and enraged at the disappointment, she rushes from the chamber to give orders for my death. With this, I appeal for succour to a malignant old enchanter, who shews his malice by pretending not to hear me. But my lucky star ordains that a lady, on whom I never bestowed a thought, though, on her part, she is deeply enamoured of me, and who is one of the noblest ladies in all the realm of Transylvania, (Mari Hernández or Juana Pérez, by name,) at that moment enters the apartment. Taking me by the hand, she conducts me to the great hall of the castle, where several fierce-looking men are waiting in readiness to dispatch me. They are about to draw their swords, but good fortune once more befriends me, and Doña Mari Hernández addresses them, saying,—