About the freedom that don Quixote gave to many unfortunates who, much against their will, were being taken where they did not want to go.
C IDE HAMETE Benengeli, the Arabic and Manchegan author, relates in this most serious, high-sounding, meticulous, delightful, and imagined story, that, after that conversation between don Quixote de La Mancha and Sancho Panza, his squire, recorded at the end of Chapter Twenty One, don Quixote raised his eyes and saw coming toward him as many as twelve men, strung together by their necks like beads, with a long chain, and all of them wearing handcuffs. Coming with them were two men on horseback and two on foot. Those who were on horseback had muskets and those on foot had pikes and swords, and as soon as Sancho Panza saw them, he said: “This is a chain of galley slaves, men sentenced by the king and forced to row in his galleys.”
“What do you mean FORCED?” asked don Quixote. “Is it possible that the king is forcing anyone?”
“I’m not saying that—” responded Sancho, “only that these are people who, because of their crimes, are sentenced to serve the king in galleys, by force.”
“So, no matter,” replied don Quixote, “these people are being taken away by force and not of their free will.”
“In that case,” said his master, “here’s where I can do what my profession requires: to set forced actions right and to succor and aid poor wretches.”
“Be careful, your grace,” said Sancho, “for Justice, which is the king himself, isn’t using force or striking out against these people, but rather is punishing them for their crimes.”
Just then, the chain of galley slaves arrived, and don Quixote, with very courteous words, asked their guards please to inform and tell him the cause, or causes, for which they were escorting those people in that way.
One of the guards on horseback responded that they were prisoners whom his majesty was sending to the galleys, and that there was nothing more to say, nor did he have a right to find out anything else.
“Even so,” replied don Quixote, “I’d like to hear from each one of them the cause of his particular misfortune.”
He added to these further polite words to persuade them to tell him what he wanted to know, and the other guard on horseback said to him: “We have the registry book and the sentencing certificates for each one of these unfortunates, but this just isn’t a good time to stop to take them out and read them. If your grace wants, you can ask each one individually, and they’ll tell you if they want to; and they certainly will want to since they all enjoy doing villainous acts and then talking about them.”
With this license, which don Quixote would have taken even if it had not been given, he approached the chain and asked the first one what sins he’d done to wind up that way. He responded that it was because he was in love.
“Only that?” replied don Quixote. “If being in love gets you thrown into the galleys, I would have been rowing in them for many days now.”
“That isn’t the kind of love your grace is thinking about,” said the galley slave. “Mine was that I loved a wicker basket filled with freshly-washed clothes so much and hugged it to myself so hard that if the authorities hadn’t taken it from me by force, I wouldn’t have let it be taken away, even now, of my free will. I was caught in the act, so no torturing was necessary. When the trial was over they gave me a hundred lashes, and added three precious years in the gurapas, and that was that.”
“What are gurapas?” asked don Quixote.
“Gurapas are galleys,” responded the galley slave, a young man of not more that twenty-four years of age, and said he was from Piedrahita, near Ávila.
Don Quixote asked the same of the second one, who didn’t answer a word since he was so sad and despondent. But the first one answered for him: “This one, señor, is here because he’s a canary—I mean, a musician and a singer.”
“What?” repeated don Quixote. “Musicians and singers go to the galleys, too?”
“Yes, señor,” responded the galley slave. “There is nothing worse than singing while in torment.”
“Why, I’ve heard,” said don Quixote, “that «he who sings scares away his troubles».”
“Here it’s the opposite,” said the galley slave, “for he who sings once, cries the rest of his life.”
“I don’t understand,” said don Quixote.
But one of the guards said: “Señor knight, «to sing while in torment» means in the slang of these non santa people «to confess under torture». They tortured this sinner and he confessed his crime, which was that he was a cattle rustler, and since he confessed, they sentenced him to six years in the galleys, not to mention the two hundred lashes that he carries on his back. And he’s always pensive and sad because the other thieves, both those we left behind and these here, taunt and humiliate him; and they ridicule and hold him to be of no account because he confessed and didn’t have the courage to say NO, because they say that NAY has as many letters as YEA, and that a criminal is very lucky when his life or death depends only on his tongue, and not on witnesses or other proof, and I kind of think that they’re not far off the mark.”
“That’s what I think, too,” responded don Quixote, who went on to the third one, and asked him what he’d asked the others, and he answered in a carefree way saying: “I’m going to the señoras gurapas for five years because I didn’t have ten ducats. ”
“I’ll give you twenty,” said don Quixote, “if that’ll get you out of trouble.”
“That’s like,” responded the galley slave, “the person who has money on the high seas and is dying of hunger with no place to buy what he needs. I say that because if I’d had those twenty ducats then that you’re offering me now, I would have used them to grease the scribe’s pen, and to encourage my lawyer’s cleverness, so that I’d be in the Plaza de Zocodover in Toledo today, and not on this road, on a leash like a dog. But God is great: patience, and that’s enough.”
He moved on to the fourth, a man with a venerable face, with a white beard that extended beyond his chest, who, when he heard himself asked the cause for his being there, he began to sob, and didn’t say a word. But the fifth convict acted as his tongue and said: “This honorable man is going for four years, having been paraded through the streets on the way to jail, wearing a dunce cap and on a burro, with a constable at his side crying out his crimes.”
“That is,” said Sancho, “what I think is known as «being shamed in public».”
“That’s right,” said the galley slave, “and they’re giving him this punishment for having been a stock broker, or rather, a body broker. I mean that this man was a procurer, and it’s also said that he was something of a sorcerer.”
“If you hadn’t mentioned that sorcerer business,” said don Quixote, “just for being a procurer wouldn’t warrant his rowing in galleys, but rather commanding them and being their admiral, because being a procurer is not an ordinary profession—it should be for discreet individuals, and is very necessary in a well-ordered state. Those who engage in it should be high-born, and there ought even to be an officially-appointed inspector and overseer of them, with only a specific number of them licensed and recognized, as there is for the other professions, such as stockbrokers. In this way society could avoid the bad results that are caused when this profession is handled by stupid people of little understanding, such as mindless women, immature pages, and scoundrels, who, just when an important occasion arises and the greatest tact is required, they hesitate and miss the boat because they don’t know what they’re doing. I’d like to continue, and give reasons why it’s important to choose those who should take up this most necessary profession. But this is not the right place to do it—one day I’ll tell it to the right person. I’ll just say for now that my heartache caused by seeing his white hair and venerable face suffering such distress as a pimp is lessened by the fact that he was a sorcerer, for I know that there are no spells in the world that can force a person to do what he doesn’t want to, as some simpletons think—our will is free, and there are no herbs or enchantments that can control it. All these silly women and roguish impostors do is mix some compounds and potions that make men crazy, causing everyone believe that they have the power to induce love. But, as I said, it’s impossible to force one’s free will.”
“That’s true,” said the honorable old man, “and in truth, señor, I wasn’t guilty of being a sorcerer. In the matter of being a procurer, I couldn’t deny it. But I never thought that I was doing anything bad. My only intention was for everyone to be happy, and live in peace and quiet, without quarrels or sorrow. But all these good intentions have come to naught since I’m going to where I have no hope of returning, since my years are weighing down on me, and I now have a urinary infection that doesn’t give me a moment’s comfort.”
And he began his sobbing as before. Sancho had such compassion for him that he took a real from his shirt pocket and gave it to him as alms. Don Quixote moved on to the next one and asked him what his crime was, and he responded with not less, but much more enthusiasm, than the previous one: “I’m here today because I joked around too much with a couple of sisters, first cousins of mine, and a couple of sisters who weren’t my relatives; finally, my joking around was such that it resulted in increasing my kinfolk in such a labyrinthine way, that not even the devil can figure it out. The evidence was all against me, favor was lacking, I had no money, and saw myself at the point of being hanged. They sentenced me to the galleys for six years, I consented: it’s the punishment for my guilt. I’m still young and life is long, and «where there’s life, there’s hope». If your grace has anything to help out these poor fellows, God will repay you in heaven, and we on earth will make sure to pray for your life and health; and may it be as long and as good as your generous good presence merits.”
This one was dressed in the garb of a student, and one of the guards said that he was a very great talker and a good Latin scholar (which is student slang for trickster).
Behind all of these came a good-looking man who was a bit cross-eyed and thirty years of age. He was bound in a different way from the others because he had a long chain that wound around him from head to foot with two rings around his neck, one connected to the chain, and from the other hung iron bars down to, and secured at his waist, each one connected to handcuffs that were held together by a padlock. In this way he couldn’t raise his hands to his mouth, nor lower his mouth to his hands. Don Quixote asked why he had so many more fetters than the others. The guard responded because that man alone had more crimes than all the rest combined, and that he was so daring and such a great rogue, that even though he was being taken in that way, they still feared he could still get away.
“What crimes can he have committed,” said don Quixote, “if they have only gotten him put into the galleys?”
“He’s going for ten years,” replied the guard, “which is the same as what they call CIVIL DEATH. All you need to know about this good fellow is that he’s the famous Ginés de Pasamonte, who is also known as Ginesillo de Parapilla.”
“Señor commissioner,” said the galley slave, “take it easy, and let’s not start getting into first and last names. Ginés is my name and not Ginesillo, and Pasamonte is my ancestry, and not Parapilla, as you suggest. And let everyone mind his own business, and that’ll be a major accomplishment.”
“Speak with a more civil tongue,” said the commissioner, “señor arrogant thief, unless you want me to make you keep quiet, much to your grief.”
“«Man proposes, but God disposes»,” said the galley slave. “But one day it will be known if I’m named Ginesillo de Parapilla or not.”
“Well, don’t they call you that, you liar?” said the guard.
“Yes, they do,” responded Ginés, “but if I can’t make them stop calling me that, I’ll pull out my… never mind. Señor knight, if you have something to give us, give it to us now, and go with God, because all these questions about other people’s lives are bothersome. And, if you want you to know, I’m Ginés de Pasamonte, whose life has been written by these fingers.”
“He’s telling the truth,” said the commissioner. “He’s written an autobiography—it’s as good as can be, too. He left the book pawned in jail in the amount of two hundred reales.”
“Is it that good?” said don Quixote.
“It’s so good,” responded Ginés, “ that it means trouble for Lazarillo de Tormes and for all others books of that type that have been or will be written. What I can tell you is that it deals in facts that are so true and so delightful that there are no lies that can match them.”
“And what is the title of the book?” asked don Quixote.
“The Life of Ginés de Pasamonte,” he responded.
“And is it finished?” asked don Quixote.
“How can it be finished,” he responded, “if my life is not yet over? What is written so far goes from my birth to the last time I entered the galleys.”
“So, have you been in them already?”
“To serve God and the king, I was in them before, for four years, and I know what seabiscuits are, and what the whip tastes like,” responded Ginés, “and it doesn’t bother me to go to them, because I’ll have time to finish my book; and I have a lot more to say—in Spanish galleys it’s much more tranquil than you might think—but I don’t need much time to write what I have to, since I know it all by heart.”
“You seem clever enough,” said don Quixote.
“And unfortunate,” responded Ginés, “because misfortune always pursues geniuses.”
“It pursues scoundrels,” said the commissioner. “I already told you to take it easy,” said Pasamonte.
“Those men didn’t give you that staff so you could mistreat us poor fellows, but rather to guide us and take us where his majesty commands. Otherwise, by the life of… but that’s enough! It may be that one day that stuff that happened at the inn will come out in the wash, so everyone can hold his tongue, and live well and speak even better, and let’s get on with it, for we’ve had enough joking around.”
The commissioner raised his staff to strike Pasamonte in answer to his threats, but don Quixote put himself between them and begged the commissioner not to hit him, since it was quite natural for a person with his hands tied to have a loose tongue. And turning to all those who were chained together, he said: “From everything that you’ve told me, dear brothers, I conclude that although they’re punishing you for your offenses, the punishment that you’ve been given doesn’t please you very much, and you’re going to it reluctantly, and much against your will; and it could even be that the man who lacked fortitude while being tortured, and this one’s want of funds, and the other one’s lack of favor, and finally, the magistrate’s perverted sense of justice, caused your downfall, and your not having gotten the fair treatment due you. Everything is quite clear to me now, and it’s telling, persuading, and even forcing me to show you why heaven placed me on earth and made me take up the order of knight errantry that I profess, and the vow I took to help the needy and those oppressed by those in authority. But since I know that one of the qualities of prudence is «what can be done by fair means ought not be done by foul», I’ll beg of these señores guards and commissioner to release you and let you go in peace. There will be others who can serve the king in more worthy battles, because it seems unjust to make slaves of those whom both God and Nature made free. Especially, señores guards,” added don Quixote, “since these poor fellows haven’t committed any crime against you personally, let each one answer for his own sins. God is in His heaven, and He won’t fail to punish the bad and reward the good. It’s not proper for honorable men to punish other men for something that doesn’t concern them. I ask you this in all gentleness and calmness so that I may, if you do what I ask, have something to thank you for. And if you don’t do it willingly, this lance and this sword, through the strength of my arm, will make you do it by force!”
“What nonsense!” responded the commissioner. “That’s a good joke to end his speech with! He wants us to release the king’s slaves, as if we had the authority to do it, or he had the authorization to demand it. Go on your way, your grace, and straighten up the basin on your head, and don’t go looking for three feet on the cat.”
“You’re the cat and the rat and the rogue!” responded don Quixote. And going from words to action in an instant, he attacked with such speed that the commissioner couldn’t defend himself and was thrown to the ground badly wounded by the lance; and it was fortunate for don Quixote, since he was the one with the musket. The other guards were astonished and in shock because of the unexpected situation. But those on horseback gathered their wits and raised their swords; and those on foot clutched their pikes and attacked don Quixote, who awaited them with great calm. And he would have gotten the worst of it if the galley slaves, seeing that they could use this opportunity to get their freedom, didn’t do so by breaking the chain that bound them together. The confusion was such that the guards, at times racing to prevent the galley slaves from escaping, then trying to fight off don Quixote, who was attacking them, couldn’t do anything useful. Sancho, on his part, helped Ginés de Pasamonte, who was the first one to rush into battle free and unencumbered. He attacked the commissioner and took his sword and musket, and by aiming it at one guard and pointing it at another, without firing a shot, soon there was not a guard to be seen in the countryside because they all fled, not only because of Pasamonte’s musket, but also because of the stones that the galley slaves threw at them.
These events disturbed Sancho because he could see that those who were fleeing would tell the Holy Brotherhood about what happened, and they would sound the alarm and go looking for the delinquents. He told this to his master, and begged him to leave right then, and retreat to the forest in the neighboring hills.
“You’re right,” said don Quixote, “but I know what the best thing to do right now is.”
And summoning together all the galley slaves, who were in an uproar after they had stripped the commissioner, leaving him virtually naked, they all gathered together around him to hear what he had to say: “It’s expected of those of good birth to render thanks for benefits received, for ingratitude is one of the sins that most offends God. I say this because you, señores, can bear witness by first-hand experience to the favors received at my hands, in payment for which I want—in fact, it’s my will—for you to go immediately to the city of El Toboso, laden with that chain that I removed from your necks, and present yourselves before the lady Dulcinea del Toboso, and tell her that her knight, the Woebegone one, sends her his compliments, and recount everything about this remarkable adventure in detail, until the part where I gave you your yearned-for freedom. Once this is done, you can go wherever you want, and good luck to you.”
Ginés de Pasamonte answered for them all and said: “What you’re commanding us, our lord and liberator, is, of all impossible things the most impossible to comply with, because we can’t travel together along the roads, but rather alone and separately, each one trying to hide in the bowels of the earth, so as not to be found by the Holy Brotherhood, which, no doubt, will come looking for us. What your grace can and should do, is change this tribute to the lady Dulcinea del Toboso into a series of Hail Marys and credos, which we can recite for you, and it’s something we can do by day and by night, fleeing or resting, in peace or in battle. But to think that we have to go back to the captivity of the fleshpots of Egypt, I mean, to take our chain and get on the road to El Toboso, is to think that it’s night right now, even though it isn’t yet ten o’clock in the morning, and asking us to do it is like trying «to get blood from a turnip».”
“Well, I swear,” said don Quixote, now in a rage, “you whoreson, don Ginesillo de Paropillo, or whatever your name is, you alone will go, tail between your legs, with the whole chain on your back!”
Pasamonte, who was not at all patient, having figured out that don Quixote was not very sane, since he’d taken on such an outrageous thing in wanting to set them free, seeing himself being commanded that way, winked at his companions, who dropped back a bit, and began to rain so many stones on don Quixote, that he could hardly cover himself with his buckler, and poor Rocinante paid as much attention to the spurs as if he’d been made of stone. Sancho got behind his donkey so he could shield himself against the shower of stones coming down on both of them. Don Quixote couldn’t defend himself well enough, so that many stones couldn’t help but hit him, and with such force that they knocked him to the ground. Hardly had he fallen when the student snatched his basin from his head and thwacked him on the back three or four times, then smashed it to the ground as many times, denting it severely. They took a doublet he was wearing over his armor, and would have taken his stockings if his shin armor hadn’t prevented it. They took Sancho’s coat and left him with hardly a stich on, dividing up amongst themselves the booty from the battle, then they scattered in all directions, more eager to escape the Holy Brotherhood than to take the chain on their shoulders to present themselves before the lady Dulcinea del Toboso.
The donkey, Rocinante, Sancho, and don Quixote were left all alone: the donkey, head bowed low and pensive, twitching his ears once in a while, thinking that the storm of stones was not yet over; Rocinante, stretched out on the ground next to his master, for he’d also fallen to the ground in the shower of stones; Sancho, practically naked, and fearful of the Holy Brotherhood; don Quixote, very mournful, seeing himself in such bad shape caused by the very ones for whom he’d done so much good.