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CHAP. IX.

In which is continued the diverting adventure of the puppet-show; with other matters really entertaining enough.

UNIVERSAL silence prevailed among Tyrians as well as Trojans; that is, all the spectators of the show sat in silent expectation, suspended as it were on the mouth of him who was appointed to expound the wonders of the piece; when their ears were saluted with the sound of attabals, trumpets, and artillery, that issued from behind the scene; and this noise being soon over, the boy thus began in an audible voice: "This true history, which will now be represented before the honourable company, is literally extracted from the French chronicles and Spanish ballads, which may be heard every day repeated in the streets by man, woman, and child. It exhibits the manner in which Signor Don Gayferos accomplished the deliverance of his spouse Melisendra, who was a captive in Spain, detained by the Moors in the city of Sansuenna, which was formerly the name given to what we now call Saragossa; and pray, gentlemen, take notice, Don Gayferos is playing at tables, according to the old song:

Now Gayferos, at tables playing, Of Melisendra thinks no more.

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And that personage who next appears, with a crown on his head and sceptre in his hand, is the Emperor Charlemagne, the supposed father of Melisendra, who, vexed at the indolence and carelessness of his son-in-law, comes forth to chide him; and observe with what vehemence and keenness he seems to scold; one would imagine he intended to give him half a dozen raps on the pate with his sceptre; nay, some authors say that he actually did bestow them, ay, and that with very good-will: after having said abundance of things concerning the risk his honour would run, if he did not effect the deliverance of his spouse, he is reported to have added these words, I have said enough, look to it.' Behold, gentlemen, how the emperor turns about and walks off, leaving Don Gayferos in a fume, who, in the impatience of his anger, throws away the table and pieces, and calls hastily for his armour, desiring his cousin Orlando to lend him his sword Durindana. Don Orlando will not comply with his request, but offers to attend him in his difficult enterprise: however, the provoked hero will not accept of his offer; on the contrary, he says his own single arm is sufficient to deliver his wife, even though she were concealed in the profoundest centre of the earth. So saying, he goes in to arm, that he may be able to set out with all expedition. Gentlemen, turn your eyes

to the tower that appears yonder, and suppose it one of the towers belonging to the castle of Saragossa, now called Aljaferia. That lady who stands in the balcony in the Moorish dress is the peerless Melisendra, who from thence hath often cast her longing eyes towards the road to France, and consoled herself in her captivity by thinking on the city of Paris and her valiant lord. Observe likewise a new incident, the like of which perhaps you have never seen before: don't you see that Moor stealing along silently and softly, step by step, with his finger on his mouth, behind Melisendra? Now mind how he prints a kiss in the very middle of her lips, and with what eagerness she spits, and wipes them with the sleeves of her shift, lamenting aloud, and tearing for anger her beautiful hair, as if it had been guilty of the transgression. Behold now that venerable Moor in yon gallery: he is Marsilius, the King of Sansuenna, who, having perceived the insolence of the Moor, although he was his own relation, and a great favourite, orders him to be apprehended, and carried through the principal streets of the city, with the criers before, and the rods behind, with which he is to receive two hundred stripes: and here you shall see the sentence executed, almost as soon as the crime is committed; for, among the Moors, there is no copy of a writ, trial, or delay, as in our courts of justice."

Here Don Quixote interposing, said, with a loud voice, Boy, boy, follow your story in a right line, without falling into curves and crosses; for there is not so much proof and counterproof required to bring truth to light."-" Sirrah (cried Mr Peter, from behind the curtain), none of your vagaries, but follow that gentleman's counsel, which is good and wholesome: sing your plain song, without counterpoints, for you may spin the thread so fine as to break it." "I shall obey your orders," answered the boy, who proceeded, saying,

"That there figure a-horseback, wrapped up in a cloak of Gascony, is the very individual Don Gayferos, to whom his own lady, by this time revenged of the presumptuous and enamoured Moor, talks with more seeming composure from the battlements of the tower, supposing him to be some traveller, and between the two passeth that whole discourse and con versation recorded in the ballad, which says,

Sir knight, if you to France do go,
For Gayferos inquire:

together with what follows, which I shall not at present repeat, because prolixity engenders disgust: let it suffice that you see how Gayferos discovers himself, and that we learn from the joyful gestures of Melisendra, that she recognizes her husband; especially as we now see her let herself down from the balcony, in order

to get a-horseback behind her loving spouse: but as ill luck would have it, the border of her under-petticoat has caught hold of one of the iron spikes of the balcony, and there she hangs dangling, without being able to reach the ground: but you see how compassionate Heaven brings relief in the most pressing emergencies; for Don Gayferos comes to her assistance, and without minding whether or not the rich petticoat may be torn, seizes his lady, and by main force brings her to the ground; then with one jerk sets her upon the crupper of his horse, astride like a man, bidding her hold fast, and throw her arms around his neck, so as to cross them on his breast, that she may be in no danger of falling; for my lady Melisendra was not used to ride in that manner: you likewise perceive how the horse, by his neighing, expresses the satisfaction he feels in carrying the valiant and beautiful burden of his lord and mistress: you see how they turn about, and, quitting the city, take the road to Paris, with equal eagerness and joy. Go in peace, ye peerless pair of faithful lovers; may you arrive in safety at your desired country, without fortune's raising any obstruction to your happy journey; and may the eyes of your friends and kindred behold you enjoying peace all the days of your life, which I hope will exceed the age of Nestor!" Here Mr Peter interposing again, called aloud, "None of your flourishes, sirrah'; seek not to entangle yourself; for all affectation is naught." The interpreter, without answering a syllable, I went on in this manner: "There were not wanting some idle eyes which nothing can escape, and they, perceiving the descent and flight of Melisendra, gave notice of it to King Marsilio, who straight gave orders for sounding to arms: and behold the hurry and commotion of the city, occasioned by the sound of bells that ring in every minoret."

"It cannot be (cried Don Quixote). In what regards the bells, Mr Peter is guilty of an impropriety; for the Moors use no bells, but attabals or kettle-drums, and a kind of dulcimers, like those belonging to our waits; so that the circumstance of ringing bells in Sensuenna is a downright absurdity." Mr Peter hearing this observation, left off ringing, and answered, "Signor Don Quixote, your worship must not mind such trifles, nor seek for that perfection which is not to be found. How many plays do you see every day represented, full of impropriety and absurdities, yet they happily run their career, and are heard, not simply with applause, but even with universal admiration. Proceed, boy, and let people talk; for, provided I fill my pocket, I don't care if there should be more improprieties than there are atoms in the sun.""You are in the right," replied the knight, and thus the boy went on :

"Behold what a number of resplendent cavalry marches out of the city in pursuit of the

two catholic lovers: what a sound of trumpets, tinkling of dulcimers, and rattling of drums and kettle-drums! I am afraid they will overtake and bring them back tied to their horse's tail, and that would be a most dismal spectacle.” Don Quixote, seeing such a number of Moors, and hearing this uproar, thought it was incumbent upon him to assist the fugitives; and therefore starting up, he pronounced with a loud voice, "Never, while I breathe, will I consent that such an injury should be done in my presence to a knight so famous, daring, and enamoured as is Don Gayferos: desist, ye base-born plebeians! seek not to follow and punish him, but face me in battle if you dare." With these words and actions he unsheathed his sword, and springing up to the puppet-show, began with incredible agility and fury to lay about him among the Moorish puppets, demolishing some, beheading others, maiming this, and hacking that; and in the course of this exercise, he fetched such a back-stroke, that had not Mr Peter stooped and squatted down with great expedition, he would have sliced off his head as easily as if it had been made of gingerbread. This unfortunate showman exalting his voice, "Hold, for the love of God! Signor Don Quixote (said he), and take notice, that those whom you overthrow, kill, and destroy, are not real Moors, but poor, harmless, little figures of paste; consider, sinner that I am! you are ruining me, by depriving me of my livelihood." Notwithstanding this remonstrance, the knight continued to play away in a perfect shower of backstrokes, fore-strokes, outside and inside, that fell as thick as hail; so that in less than a couple of credos, he brought the whole show to the ground, all the tackle and figures being hewed down and dismembered; King Marsilio himself sorely wounded, and the crown, together with the head of the emperor, cleft in twain. The whole audience was involved in confusion: the ape fled to the roof of the house; the scholar trembled, the page was seized with consternation, and Sancho Panza himself overwhelmed with terror and dismay; for, as he swore after the hurricane subsided, he had never before seen his master in such a frantic rage.

The puppet-show being thus entirely demolished, Don Quixote became a little more composed, saying, "I wish I had before me, at this very moment, those who either do not, or will not, believe that knights-errant are of any benefit or service to mankind, that they might see what' would have become of the worthy Don Gayferos and the beautiful Melisendra, had not I been present on this occasion: certainly by this time they would have been overtaken by those dogs, who would have done them some grievous injury: let knight-errantry, therefore, live and flourish above all things upon the face. of the earth."-" In a happy hour, let it live (cried Mr Peter in a languid tone), and let me

die, who am so unfortunate, that I may say with King Rodrigo, Yesterday I was lord of Spain, and now there is not one battlement I can call my own.' Half an hour, yea not half á minute, is elapsed, since I saw myself in possession of kings and emperors; my stables, cof fers, and bags, were filled with an infinite number of horses, and other gay particulars, and now I find myself quite destitute and abased, poor and beggarly, and, which is worst of all, deprive ed of my ape, who in good faith will make my teeth sweat before he returns to me his lawful master; and all this misfortune I have suffered from this here sir knight, who is said to protect orphans, rectify wrongs, and perform other charitable actions, but in me alone his generous intention has failed; blessed and praised be the highest heavens above! In a word, the Knight of the Rueful Figure is he by whom I and mine are disfigured and undone.'

Sancho Panza, melted at this piteous lamentation : "Do not weep, Mr Peter (said he), do not whine so piteously, or thou'lt break my heart; for, I'd have thee know, my master Don Quixote is such a catholic and scrupulous Christian, that provided he be convinced of having done thee wrong, he knows how to make amends, and will satisfy and repay thee with double interest." "If Signor Don Quix ote (replied the showman), will make some atonement for the deeds by which he has undone me, I shall rest satisfied, and his worship's conscience will be at peace; for that man cannot expect salvation who withholds the effects of his neighbour against his will, and refuses to make restitution.' "You are in the right (said Don Quixote); but as yet I do not know that I withhold any of your effects, Mr Peter.""How! none of mine? (cried the showman), and these unfortunate remains that lie extended on the hard and barren pavement, were they not thus scattered and annihilated by the invincible force of that redoubted arm? to whom but me did their unhappy bodies belong? and with what but them did I procure a comfortable subsistence ?"-" Now (cried Don Quixote), I am fully convinced of what I have on divers occasions believed; namely, that those enchanters by whom I am persecuted take pleasure in presenting realities to my view, and then changing and metamorphosing them into such figures and forms as they choose to be stow: believe me, gentlemen, to me every thing that has passed appeared a true and literal concurrence of real facts; and the figures represented seemed to be really and truly the very individual persons of Melisendra, Don Gayferos, Marsilio, and Charlemagne : in consequence of that belief my wrath was provoked; and, in order to fulfil the function of a knight-errant, I resolved to favour and assist the fair fugitive; in the execution of which resolve I have done what you see. If the exploit has turned out

contrary to my expectation, the blame ought not to lie with me, but with those miscreants by whom I am persecuted nevertheless, as I have committed an error, although it did not proceed from malice aforethought, I stand by my own award condemned in costs: let Mr Peter make out his own bill of the figures that are demolished, and I promise it shall be paid on the spot, in good and lawful current coin of this kingdom." The showman, hearing this de claration, made a profound bow, saying, "I expected no less from the unheard-of Christianity of the valiant Don Quixote de la Mancha, the unflinching auxiliary and support of the whole tribe of needy and forlorn vagabonds: Mr Landlord and the great Sancho shall act as moderators and appraisers between your worship and me, with regard to what the injured figures are or might be worth."

The innkeeper and 'squire having undertaken this office, Mr Peter lifted up the headless Marsilio, King of Saragossa, saying, "You see how impossible it is to reinstate the king in his for mer situation; and, therefore, with submission to better judgments, I think I must be allowed four rials and a half on account of his death and final perdition." The knight desiring him to proceed, "Then (said he), for this dreadful gash from top to bottom (taking up the cloven Emperor Charlemagne), I cannot be thought exorbitant if I demand five rials and a quarter."-"That's no small matter," said San

cho.

"Nor a great deal too much (replied the landlord). Split the difference, and set him down at five rials."-" Let him have the whole five and the quarter (said Don Quixote); for in such a notable misfortune, a quarter more or less is a mere trifle: and pray despatch, Mr Peter, for it is now supper time, and I begin to feel some symptoms of a keen appetite."-" For that figure without a nose, and deprived of one eye, which is the beautiful Melisendra (proceeded Peter), I demand two rials and twelve maravedis."-" The devil's in't (cried the knight), if Melisendra is not by this time with her husband, at least upon the frontiers of France; for the horse on which they were mounted seemed to fly rather than tread the ground; so that there is no reason for your selling me a cat instead of a coney, that is, in presenting me with a noseless Melisendra, when, in all probability, that lady is now enjoying herself at leisure with her husband in France. God give every man joy of his own, Mr Peter, and let us all endea vour to walk tightly and rightly; and now you may proceed." Mr Peter perceiving Don Quixote beginning to warp and return to his old bias, resolved to be even with him, and, with that view, said, "This cannot be Melisendra, but must be one of her waiting-women, for whom I shall think myself very well paid, and rest satisfied with threescore maravedis." In the same manner did he set prices on many

other maimed figures; so that, after they were moderated by the two arbitrators to the satisfaction of both parties, the whole sum amounted to forty rials and three quarters, which being disbursed by Sancho, Mr Peter demanded another brace of rials for the trouble he should have in catching the ape. "Let him have them, Sancho (said Don Quixote), not for catching the ape, but the juice of the grape:* and I would now give two hundred as a reward to any person who would certify that the lady Donna Melisendra, and her lord Don Gayferos, are now safe among their friends in France."-"No person upon earth can resolve that question sooner or better than my ape (replied Mr Peter); but the devil himself cannot catch him at present, though, I imagine, hunger and affection will compel him to return to me some time to-night, and, if God will send us a new day, we shall see what can be done." In fine, the hurricane of the puppet-show being quite blown over, the whole company supped together in peace and good fellowship, at the expense of Don Quixote, who was liberal to ex

cess.

begins this chapter with these words: “I swear, as a Catholic Christian:" and upon this occasion the translator observes, that Cid Hamet being a Moor, as he certainly was, in swearing as a Catholic Christian, means no more than that, as a Catholic Christian, when he makes oath, swears he will speak the truth, and nothing but the truth; in like manner he would adhere to it as a Catholic Christian adheres to his oath, in what he intended to write concerning Don Quixote, especially in disclosing the mystery of Mr Peter and the fortune-telling ape, whose talent attracted the admiration of all that country. He then proceeds to observe, that he who has read the first part of this history, cannot but remember that same Gines de Passamonte, whom, together with his fellowslaves, Don Quixote set at liberty near the Brown Mountain,— -a benefit for which he was ill thanked and worse requited by that mischievous and immoral crew. This Gines de Passamonte, whom Don Quixote called Ginesillo de Parapilla, was the very thief who stole Sancho's Dapple, and as, through the fault of the printers, neither the time nor the manner of that conveyance is described in the first part of the book, many people ascribed this error of the press to want of memory in the author; but, in short, stolen he was by Gines, even while Sancho was sitting sleeping on his back, by means of the same contrivance and expedient that was used by Brunelo, who, while Sacripante lay at Albraça, withdrew his horse from between his legs; and Sancho afterwards retrieved him, as we have already related. Gines then, afraid of being overtaken by justice, that was in quest of him to chastise him for his numberless tricks and transgressions, which were so manifold and remarkable as to fill a large volume of his own composing, resolved to remove himself into the kingdom of Arragon, to cover his left eye with a patch, and profess the occupation of playing puppets, and performing feats of legerdemain, which he understood to great perfection: he afterwards happened to fall in company with some Christians just delivered from bondage in Barbary, of whom he purchased that ape, which he taught to leap upon his shoulder at a certain signal, and whisper, or seem to whisper, in his ear. Having so far succeeded, before he entered any place with his puppet-show and ape, he took care to inform himself at the next village, or of any person whom he could conveniently pump, of the particular accidents that had happened in that place, with all their circumstances, which he retained by dint of a tenacious memory. The first thing he did was to represent his puppet-show, the CID Hamet, author of this sublime history, subject of which he extracted sometimes from

Before day-break, the lance and halbert-carrier set out for his village, and early in the morning the scholar and the page came to take their leave of Don Quixote, the first intending to return to his own home, and the other to pursue his journey, for the comfort of which, the knight made him a present of a dozen rials. Mr Peter having no inclination to re-involve himself in any sort of dispute with Don Quixote, to whose disposition he was no stranger, arose before the sun, and packing up the remains of his puppets, together with his ape, sallied forth also in quest of further adventures. The innkeeper, who knew not Don Quixote, was equally astonished at his madness and liberality: finally, Sancho paid him handsomely, by his master's order, and the two bidding him farewell about eight o'clock in the morning, left the inn, and betook themselves to the road, in which we will leave them, having now a proper opportunity to recount other incidents appertaining and necessary to the illustration of this famous history.

CHAP. X.

In which the reader will discover who Mr Peter and his ape were; together with Don Quixote's bad success in the braying adventure, which did not at all turn out according to his wish and expectation.

In the original there is a miserable pun upon the words Mono and Mona, the first of which signifies an ape, and the other drunkenness.

one story, and sometimes from another; but it was always full of mirth and entertainment, and well known : and this being ended, he propounded the talents of his ape, telling his audience that he could disclose the past and present; but with regard to the future, he pretended no knowledge: for every response he demanded two rials, though sometimes he afforded them cheaper, just as he felt the pulse of his consulters; and, as he sometimes came to families, the anecdotes of which he knew, even though they would spend no money upon questions, he would make the signal to the ape, and then say he had communicated this and that circumstance, which tallied exactly with what had really happened. By these means, he acquired the credit of infallibility, and drew the whole country after him; at other times, as he had abundance of cunning and penetration, he would answer in such a manner, that the re sponses agreed perfectly well with the questions; and there being nobody to hamper him by inquiring and sifting into the bottom of this pretended divination of the monkey, he found means to make monkeys of all his followers, and fill his bags at the same time. As soon as he entered the inn, he knew Don Quixote and Sancho, and this recognition enabled him to excite the admiration of the knight, 'squire, and all the bye-standers: but his art would have cost him dear, had Don Quixote lowered his hand a little when he decapitated King Marsilio, and destroyed his whole cavalry, as we have related that adventure in the preceding chapter.

So much for Mr Peter and his ape: and now, returning to Don Quixote de la Mancha, we must observe, that, after having departed from the inn, he resolved, in the first place, to visit the banks of the river Ebro, and all the circumjacent country, before he should enter the city of Saragossa, as the length of time between this period and the tournaments permitted him to make such an excursion. With this resolution he proceeded in the road, through which he travelled two days, without encountering any thing worth relating, until on the third, as he ascended a rising ground, his ears were saluted with a mighty noise of kettle-drums, trumpets, and muskets, which he at first imagined might proceed from some company of soldiers marching that way; in order, therefore, to view them, he spurred up Rozinante, and when he reached the top of the rising ground, saw below, as near as he could guess, above two hundred men, equipped with different kinds of arms, such as lances, cross-bows, partisans, halberts, pikes, a few muskets, and a great number of targets. He rode down the hill, and drew so near this squadron, that he could distinguish their colours, and observe their devices, particularly a banner or pendant of white satin, in which was painted to the life an ass of the small Sar

dinian breed, with his head raised, his mouth open, and his tongue lolling out as if in the very act and attitude of braying, and surrounded by this motto, in capital letters,

It is no children's play, When brother bailiff's bray.

From this symbol Don Quixote gathered, that those people belonged to the village of Braywick; and this discovery he communicated to Sancho, whom he likewise made acquainted with the motto of the standard; observing, at the same time, that he, by whom they were informed of the adventure, had committed a mistake, in saying the brayers were aldermen ; for, according to this couplet, they must have been bailiffs. To this observation, Sancho replied, "Signor, in that circumstance there is nothing to be mended ; for those who were aldermen when they brayed, might very well in time come to be bailiffs of the corporation, consequently they may be mentioned with both titles; especially as it is of small signification to the truth of the story, whether the brayers were aldermen or bailiffs, provided they really conjunctly and severally did bray; for a bailiff is as likely to bray as an alderman."

Finally, conjecturing and understanding that the people who were ridiculed had come forth to fight those who had ridiculed them, and carried the joke beyond the bounds of reason and good neighbourhood, Don Quixote approached their line of battle, to the no small chagrin of Sancho, who was never fond of interposing on such occasions; and they were immediately received by the whole squadron, who believed the knight was come to espouse their quarrel. Then Don Quixote lifting up his vizor, with graceful ease and courteous demeanour, advanced to the standard of the ass, where he was environed by the chiefs of the army, who gazed at him with that admiration incident to all those who beheld him for the first time. The knight perceiving them looking at him so attentively, without speaking or asking any question, resolved to take advantage of their silence, and breaking his own, began in this manner, with an audible voice:"Worthy gentlemen, I beg, in the most earnest manner, that you will not interrupt a discourse I intend to make, until you perceive it becomes insipid and disgusting; in which case, I will, upon the least sign, put a seal upon my lips, and a gag upon my tongue."

All the spectators assured him he might say what he pleased, and they would willingly give him the hearing; so that, thus licensed, he proceeded to this effect: "I, gentlemen, am a knight-errant, whose exercise is that of arms, and whose profession is to assist the needy, and favour those who want favour and protection. Some days ago I was informed of your disgrace,

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