The Story of Don Quixote
By Arvid Paulson, Clayton Edwards, Florence Choate and
()
Related to The Story of Don Quixote
Related ebooks
The Swiss Family Robinson: Or Adventures in a Desert Island Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsCircling the Runway Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Dragon Queen of Jupiter Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Memoirs of Admiral Lord Beresford Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsCounting to Infinity Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5The Schliemann Legacy Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Around The World With Mark Twain Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Nothing but the Night Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsSilvapithecus Americanus: The Discovery of a New Species Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsWhat Doesn't Kill Us: A McKenzie Novel Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Travels Of Sir John Mandeville Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsLong Way Out, The Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Pirate Super Pack # 2 Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Shadow out of Time Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsTarzan of the Apes (Serapis Classics) Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5The Science Fiction anthology Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsForged in the Shadow of Mars: Chivalry and Violence in Late Medieval Florence Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsCamelot: The Historical, Archaeological and Toponymic Considerations for South Cadbury Castle as King Arthur's Camelot Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsPoems in Prose Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe History of the Caliph Vathek Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5New Worlds: Before the New Wave, 1960-1964: The Carnell Era, Volume Two Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsListen in terror: British horror radio from the advent of broadcasting to the digital age Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Adventures of Pinocchio Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5The Law of Civilization and Decay Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsThe Box Jumper Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsYou’ll Miss Me When I’m Gone: The life and work of Eric Morecambe Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsInequality and Prosperity: Social Europe vs. Liberal America Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Creating K-Pax -Or- Are You Sure You Want to Be a Writer? Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratingsSartor Resartus Rating: 0 out of 5 stars0 ratings
Reviews for The Story of Don Quixote
0 ratings0 reviews
Book preview
The Story of Don Quixote - Arvid Paulson
The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Story of Don Quixote, by Arvid Paulson, Clayton Edwards, and Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, Illustrated by Florence Choate and Elizabeth Curtis
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: The Story of Don Quixote
Author: Arvid Paulson, Clayton Edwards, and Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
Release Date: July 20, 2009 [eBook #29468]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE***
E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Jen Haines,
and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
(http://www.pgdp.net)
DON QUIXOTE INSISTED THAT THE BOAT HAD BEEN SENT BY MAGIC TO FETCH HIM TO SOME GREAT KNIGHT.
—Page 222
THE STORY OF
DON QUIXOTE
BY
ARVID PAULSON
AND
CLAYTON EDWARDS
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS IN COLOR BY
FLORENCE CHOATE
AND
ELIZABETH CURTIS
THE HAMPTON PUBLISHING COMPANY
NEW YORK
Copyright, MCMXXII, by
Frederick A. Stokes Company
All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages
Printed in the United States of America
CONTENTS
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
THE STORY OF DON QUIXOTE
VOLUME I
CHAPTER I
Which Treats of the Character and Pursuits of the Famous Gentleman, Don Quixote of La Mancha
NEARLY four hundred years ago, there lived in the village of La Mancha in Spain an old gentleman of few worldly possessions but many books, who was given to a hardy and adventurous way of life, and who beguiled his spare time by reading the many tales of chivalry and knighthood that were in his possession.
This old gentleman was a tall, gaunt man of about fifty, with a lantern jaw and straggling gray hair, and eyes that had a sparkle of madness in them. His surname was Quixada or Quesada, and though not rich, he was well known to the country folk and had some reputation in the community where he lived.
In his younger days he was a great sportsman and used to get up before the sun to follow his favorite pursuits of hunting and hawking, but as he grew older he spent almost all his time in reading books on chivalry and knighthood with which his library was stocked; and at last he grew so fond of these books that he forgot to follow the hounds or even to look after his property, but spent all his time in his library, mulling over the famous deeds and love affairs of knights who conquered dragons and vanquished wicked enchanters.
At the time when Quesada lived, Spain was saturated with this sort of literature, and everybody wasted much time in reading books which had no merit or value of any kind and which were full of the most ridiculous and impossible adventures. On the whole they were the most utter rubbish that it was possible to print. They told about impossible deeds in the most impossible language, and were filled with ambitious sentences that meant nothing under the sun. Señor Quesada spent hours racking his brains to puzzle out the meaning of something like this:
The reason of the unreason with which my reason is afflicted so weakens my reason that with reason I murmur at your beauty.
Or again:
The high heavens that of your divinity divinely fortify you with the stars, render you deserving of the desert your greatness deserves.
Poor Señor Quesada could not understand these sentences. Who could? No man in his right mind certainly, it would have taken a madman to read any real meaning into them. And he wasted so much time in puzzling over them that at last he became quite mad and the words in the books would appear on the walls of his room, written in letters of fire, with so bright a light that they prevented him from sleeping. From trying to read a meaning into things that had no meaning whatever, Señor Quesada was mad—as mad as the books he had been reading.
Señor Quesada lived with his niece and his housekeeper, both sensible women who loved him and who were much grieved over the havoc his books of chivalry had worked with his senses. They believed that to talk about these books made the old gentleman worse, so they refused to answer him when he argued about knights and dragons and whether this fair lady was an enchantress in disguise or only a mortal woman, and whether that dragon actually did breathe forth fire from his nostrils, or only sulphur fumes and smoke. His niece and the housekeeper would run away when he started upon one of his favorite subjects; so he turned to the society of the village curate, a learned man for those times, who knew almost as much about books of chivalry as Señor Quesada himself, and to that of Master Nicholas, the village barber. And these three friends would sit up until dawn arguing as to who was the better knight, Sir Lancelot or Amadis of Gaul, and how these both compared with the Knight of the Burning Sword, who with one back stroke cut in half two fierce and monstrous giants.
After he had become thoroughly mad from reading, and more so from such arguments and discussions, Señor Quesada hit upon the strangest notion that ever entered the head of a lunatic. He believed that he and no other was called upon to restore the entire world to the ancient conditions of chivalry, and bring back the tournaments and the courteous knights and fair ladies whose like had existed in the times of the famous King Arthur of Britain. Believing this, it was an easy step for him to think that the world was still full of giants and fierce dragons for him to vanquish, and that as a man of honor and skill at arms he must leave his comfortable home and do battle with them. To his disordered senses things took on a different appearance than was actually the case—inns seemed castles, and towers and hills appeared as giants that moved about in the distance; and Señor Quesada could hardly wait before he could meet them on horseback and overthrow them in battle.
To become a knight and encounter all these strange and visionary dangers it was necessary for him, however, to have a war horse, a stout lance and a suit of armor, and he cast about among his possessions to see what he could find that would answer the purpose—for he had no money to buy them, and no shop could have furnished them for him if he had possessed all the money in Spain. In his attic he found an old suit of armor that had belonged to his great-grandfather and had been lying there for ages, rotting with rust and mildew in company with old chests, bedding and other family treasures. He brought it out and scoured it as best he could and at last made it shine with considerable brightness. But the helmet was only partially complete, for it lacked a beaver and a visor to protect his face, so Señor Quesada constructed these from pasteboard and painted them to resemble the armor as closely as possible. He tried their strength with his rusty sword, and on the first stroke cut them entirely away; so he rebuilt them and forbore to try them again, hoping they would be strong enough, but fearing to make a test that might undo once more all the troublesome work that he had spent upon them.
His armor now complete, he looked in his stables for a horse to carry him, and found there his old hack, whose every bone was visible and who was more used to carrying sacks of potatoes and onions to market than to bearing the weight of a knight or a man at arms. This horse must have been at least twenty years old into the bargain, but to Quixada's brain it appeared a mettlesome charger and he was quite sure that his new steed would prove equal to any fatigue or danger that might come its way in the course of his adventures. And remembering that all the horses of famous warriors had possessed high-sounding names he called his horse Rocinante and adopted for himself the title of Don Quixote of La Mancha, under which name he will be known through the rest of the present history.
Another thing, however, remained wanting—a lady-love for whose sake he might do battle and whose affections might inspire him to endure all sorts of dangers and hardships. So Don Quixote straightway searched through his recollection to find one that might answer, and hit at last upon a peasant girl named Aldonza Lorenzo, with whom it is supposed he had been in love when he was a young man. And though Aldonza Lorenzo was more used to winnowing wheat and caring for the live-stock than to fine phrases and courtly manners, and though she was no better than any of the other peasant girls who lived in her locality, Don Quixote believed that she was a lady of high lineage and noble birth and christened her in his mind Dulcinea del Toboso. And he was ready to fight with any man in Spain who would not acknowledge that she was the loveliest and most gifted lady in the world.
A lance was easily made, and now, possessed of war horse, armor, weapons, and a glorious lady to do battle for, the poor old man was ready, so he believed, to go forth and meet the high adventures that he felt sure were awaiting him.
CHAPTERS II-III
Which Treats of the First Sally Don Quixote Made from Home
ALL things being ready, Don Quixote wished for no delay, and before sunrise on one of the hottest days of midsummer, he stole from his bed—taking care not to awaken his niece or his housekeeper—put on his ancient armor, saddled Rocinante, and with lance in hand and sword clattering beside him made his way across the fields in the highest state of content and satisfaction at the ease with which his purpose had been accomplished. He could hardly wait for his adventures to begin, or for the chance to try the strength of his mighty arm upon some wicked warrior or, better still, some dragon or giant; but scarcely did he find himself upon the open plain before a terrible thought came to his mind and one that nearly made him abandon his adventure before it was well begun. He reflected that, according to the rules of chivalry, he must be dubbed a knight before he could undertake any battles or engagements, and afterward he must wear white armor without any device upon his shield, until he had proved by bravery and endurance his right to these privileges of knighthood. He consoled himself, however, by resolving to have himself dubbed a knight by the first person who came along; and as for white armor, he determined to make his own rival the brightness of the moon by industrious scouring.
Comforting himself with thoughts such as these, he pursued his way, which he allowed his horse to choose for him, thinking that in so doing he would be guided more surely and more quickly to the adventures that were awaiting him. And as he rode along he amused himself by quoting imaginary passages from the books that he felt sure would be written about his noble deeds—deeds that he would soon accomplish and that would astonish the entire world by their bravery and hardihood. At times he would break into wild speech, calling his lady Dulcinea by name and saying: O Princess Dulcinea, lady of this captive heart, a grievous wrong hast thou done me to drive me forth with scorn and banish me from the presence of thy beauty!
And so he went along, stringing such absurd phrases together, while the hot sun rose and grew hotter, until it would have melted his brains in his helmet, if he had any. He traveled nearly all day without seeing anything remarkable, at which he was in despair, for he could hardly wait, as we have said, for his adventures to begin.
Toward evening he came in sight of a common wayside inn, and standing at the door were two peasant girls who looked with astonishment on the strange figure that was approaching them. To the disordered imagination of Don Quixote, this appeared to be a castle with four towers, and the girls who stood in front of the door seemed ladies of noble birth and peerless beauty. He seemed to see behind them a drawbridge and a moat, and waited for some dwarf to appear upon the castle battlements and by sound of a trumpet announce that a knight was approaching the gates.
At this point a swineherd who was gathering his pigs did happen to blow a blast on his horn to scare his charges along the road; and this, appearing to Don Quixote to be the dwarfs signal that he had expected, he drew near in high satisfaction, while Rocinante, scenting stables and hay and water, pricked up his ears and advanced at a brisk trot until the inn door was reached and Don Quixote addressed the astonished girls who were waiting there.
The girls, on seeing an armed man approaching them, had turned to seek safety indoors, when Don Quixote, lifting his pasteboard beaver, said to them in the most courteous manner he could command:
Ladies, I beseech you, do not fly or fear any manner of rudeness, for it is against the rules of the knighthood, which I profess, to offer harm to high-born ladies such as you appear to be.
The girls, hearing themselves addressed in this strange manner and called ladies, could not refrain from giggling, at which Don Quixote rebuked them, saying:
Modesty becomes the fair, and laughter without cause is the greatest silliness.
The strange language and dilapidated appearance of the speaker only increased the girls' laughter, and that increased Don Quixote's irritation; and matters might have gone farther if the landlord had not appeared at this moment to see what might be the matter. When he beheld the grotesque figure on horseback whose armor did not match and whose mount was the sorriest one imaginable, it was all he could do to refrain from joining the girls in their hilarity; but being a little in awe of the strange knight, whose lance was pointed and whose sword appeared to have both strength and weight, he spoke courteously to Don Quixote. He told him that if he sought food or lodging he should have the best that the inn could afford for man or beast. And the poor old gentleman, who had been riding in the heat all day without food or drink, climbed stiffly out of the saddle and suffered Rocinante to be led away to the stable, cautioning the landlord to take the utmost care of him, for he was the finest bit of horseflesh in the world. The host,