A TEI Project

Chapter XXXV. (XLV)

Where the matter of Mambrino’s helmet and the packsaddle are finally resolved, and other adventures that happened, all of them true.

“W HAT DO your graces think, señores,” said the barber “about what these gentlemen declare, since they maintain that this isn’t a basin but a helmet?”

“And whoever says the contrary,” said don Quixote, “I’ll make him see, if he’s a knight, that he’s lying; or if he’s a squire, that he lies a thousand-fold.”

Our barber, who witnessed all of this, and since he knew don Quixote’s state of mind so well, wanted to reinforce his folly, and in so doing keep the joke going so that everybody might have a good laugh, and he said, talking to the barber: “Señor barber, or whoever you are, I want you to know that I too am of your profession, and I’ve had my license to practice for more than twenty years. I’m familiar with every single implement of the barber’s trade; I was equally a soldier in my youth, and I also know what a helmet is, both open and closed, and other things pertaining to the military, I mean, all types of soldiers’ arms. And I say—unless there is a better opinion, and always acquiescing to sounder judgments—that this piece this good man has in his hands is not only not a barber’s basin, but it’s so far from being one as white is from black, and the truth from a lie. I also say that, although it is a helmet, it’s not whole.”

“Certainly not,” said don Quixote, “because it’s missing half—the lower face guard.”

“That’s right,” said the priest, who saw where his friend the barber was going with all this.

Cardenio and don Fernando, and his companions, confirmed all of this. And even the judge, if he were not still thinking about the affair concerning don Luis, would have helped along with the jest, but the realities of what he was considering had him so absorbed that he paid little or no attention to that tomfoolery.

“God help me!” said the barber that they were making fun of, “is it possible that so many honorable people say that this isn’t a basin but rather a helmet? This is something that could astonish a whole university, no matter how wise it might be! But enough—if this basin is a helmet, then this packsaddle must be a horse’s trappings, as this man has said.”

“To me it looks like a packsaddle,” said don Quixote, “but I’ve already said I don’t want to get involved in that.”

“Whether or not it’s a packsaddle of trappings of a horse,” said the priest, “don Quixote has only to say so, for in matters of chivalry all these men and I acknowledge his expertise.”

“By God, señores míos,” said don Quixote, “so many strange things have happened in this castle the two times I’ve stayed here, I won’t dare to confirm anything asked me about what goes on here, because I think that everything here happens by enchantment. The first time I was here an enchanted Moor walloped me, and Sancho fared no better with this Moor’s underlings, and last night I was hanging by this arm for almost two hours, without finding out how I came into that misfortune. So if I were to give an opinion about something that is so chaotic, it would be like falling into a rash judgment. Insofar as their saying that this is a basin and not a helmet, I’ve already responded. But as to declaring if this is a packsaddle or the trappings of a horse, I don’t dare give an unequivocal opinion, and I leave it to your better determination. Maybe since you’re not dubbed knights—as I am—the enchantments of this place will not affect you, and you can judge the things of this castle as they really and truly are, and not how they appear to me.”

“There is no doubt,” don Fernando responded to this, “but that don Quixote has spoken very well today, and that we should resolve this case. And so that it will rest on a firm foundation, I’ll take secret votes from these men, and I’ll reveal the result clearly and fully.”

For those who knew don Quixote’s state of mind, this was a matter of great laughter, but for those who didn’t, it seemed like the greatest foolishness in the world, especially to the four servants of don Luis, and to don Luis himself, and to three other travelers who happened to come to the inn, and who looked like officers of the Holy Brotherhood, as, in effect, they were. But the one who despaired the most was the barber, whose basin had been transformed right in front of his eyes into Mambrino’s helmet, and whose packsaddle doubtless was fast becoming the elegant trappings of a horse. Everyone laughed to see how don Fernando went around collecting votes, whispering in their ears, so that they could declare if that item was a packsaddle or trappings, over which so much fighting had been done.

After he took the votes of those who knew don Quixote, he said in a loud voice: “The fact is, my good man, that I’m tired of soliciting so many opinions, because everyone I ask what I want to know says that it’s absurd to say that this is a packsaddle, but rather trappings of a horse, and even of a pure-bred horse at that; so you’ll have to live with it, because in spite of you and your donkey, these are trappings, and not a packsaddle, and you’ve alleged and tried to prove your case very poorly.”

“May I never have a case in heaven,” said the already-mentioned barber, “if all your graces aren’t mistaken, and may my soul appear before God the way this appears to me to be a packsaddle and not trappings, but «laws go,» and I say no more. And in truth I’m not drunk—in fact, I’ve eaten nothing, except sins.”

The foolish talk of the barber caused no less laughter than the nonsense of don Quixote, who said at that moment: “There’s nothing more to do, except for everyone to take what belongs to him, and «to whom God has given it, may St. Peter bless».”

One of the servants said: “Unless this a planned joke, I can’t convince myself that men of such intelligence as all those here are, or appear to be, would dare to say and affirm that this isn’t a basin nor that that isn’t a packsaddle. But since I see that they affirm and say it, I’m led to think that there is some mystery in insisting that something is so opposite to what truth and experience themselves show us, because, by Jove,” he exclaimed, “all the people living in the world today will not make me believe that this isn’t a barber’s basin and that isn’t a donkey’s packsaddle.”

“It might be from a jenny,” said the priest.

“It’s all the same,” said the servant, “for the crux of the matter is not that, but rather if it’s a packsaddle as your graces maintain.”

Hearing this, one of the officers who had come in and who had heard the controversy and the dispute, filled with anger and vexation, said: “It’s a packsaddle all right, just as my father is my father, and anyone who said or says different must be drunk.”

“You lie like an ill-bred rogue,” responded don Quixote, and raising his lance (which he never let out of his hand), he went to strike a terrible blow on the man’s head, and if the officer hadn’t dodged, it would have left him stretched out on the ground. The lance broke into splinters, and the other officers who saw their companion being treated so badly, raised their voice, calling for help from the Holy Brotherhood. The innkeeper, who was a member of the Brotherhood, went in for his staff of office and sword, and joined his companions.

Don Luis’ servants surrounded him so that he couldn’t escape in the tumult. The barber, seeing everything in turmoil, grabbed the packsaddle again, as did Sancho. Don Quixote drew his sword and attacked the officers; Don Luis yelled at his servants to leave him and to go help don Quixote, Cardenio, and don Fernando—for everyone had taken don Quixote’s side. The priest shouted; the innkeeper’s wife screamed; the daughter was grief-stricken; Maritornes wept; Dorotea was confused; Luscinda bewildered; and doña Clara in a faint; the barber pounded Sancho; Sancho mauled the barber; don Luis, whom one of his servants dared to grab by his arm so he wouldn’t get away, gave him a punch that bathed his teeth in blood; the judge defended don Luis; don Fernando had an officer under his feet, measuring him with his feet very heartily; the innkeeper raised his voice again, asking for help for the Holy Brotherhood; and so the whole inn was wails, shouts, screams, confusion, fears, alarms, terrors, misfortunes, slashings, punches, kicks, and bloodshed. In the midst of this chaos and labyrinth, don Quixote imagined that he’d been thrust into the thick of the discord of Agramante’s Camp. So he roared in a thundering voice: “Everybody stop! Sheathe your swords! Everybody calm down. Listen to me, all of you, if you want to stay alive!”

At his mighty voice they all stopped, and he continued, saying: “Didn’t I tell you that this castle was enchanted, and a legion of devils must be inhabiting it? To confirm this, I want you to see with your own eyes how the strife of Agramante’s Camp has been transplanted into our midst. Look how over there they fight for the sword, here for the horse, over there for the eagle, over here for the helmet, and we’re all fighting at cross purposes. Come here, then, your grace, señor judge, and your grace, señor priest, and one of you play the role of King Agramante and the other of King Sobrino, and bring peace back among us, because, by God almighty, it’s a great transgression that so many people of quality as those here are slaying each other for trifling causes.”

The officers—who didn’t understand the way don Quixote talked and were in a sorry state because of don Fernando, Cardenio, and their companions—were not about to be pacified. The barber stopped because his beard and packsaddle had been torn to shreds in the fight. Sancho, at the slightest word of his master, obeyed; the four servants of don Luis also calmed down, seeing what little good it did to do otherwise. Only the innkeeper insisted they must punish that crazy man for his insolence, because at every step he caused turmoil at the inn. Finally, the uproar was quelled, the packsaddle remained a horse’s trappings until Judgment Day; the basin, a helmet; and the inn, a castle, in don Quixote’s imagination.

Now that everyone was calmed down and a truce made by the persuasion of the judge and the priest, the servants of don Luis insisted once again that he go back with them immediately. Meanwhile, the judge consulted with don Fernando, Cardenio, and the priest about what he should do in this matter, relating to them what don Luis had told him. They finally agreed that don Fernando should tell the servants who he was, and how it was his pleasure that don Luis should go with him to Andalusia, where his brother, the marqués, would give don Luis the honor that his rank deserved, since they all knew that don Luis wouldn’t go home to his father even though they tore him to shreds. When the four servants realized the social status of don Fernando and the resolve of don Luis, they agreed among themselves that three of them should return to tell his father what was happening, and the other should stay to serve don Luis and not leave him until the three returned for him, or they found out what his father wanted.

In this way, by the authority of Agramante and the prudence of King Sobrino, this multitude of quarrels was settled. But the enemy of harmony and the adversary of truce, seeing himself thus slighted and made a fool of, and seeing how little fruit had come from throwing them all into such a labyrinth of confusion, thought he would try his hand once more by stirring up fresh quarrels and disturbances.

It happened that the officers were pacified when they overheard the rank of those with whom they had been fighting, and they withdrew from the quarrel since it seemed to them that no matter how it came out, they would get the worst of the battle. But one of them, who was the one who had been mauled and trampled by don Fernando, remembered that among the arrest warrants that he had for some delinquents, he had one for don Quixote whom the Holy Brotherhood had ordered arrested because of the freedom he’d given the galley slaves, as Sancho had so astutely feared. Once he’d figured this out, he wanted to verify the description he had to see if it matched don Quixote’s features. Taking a parchment from inside his shirt, he came across what he was looking for, and set about reading it slowly since he wasn’t a very skilled reader. At every word he looked over at don Quixote, and compared the description on the warrant with the face of don Quixote, and he found that without a doubt he was the one the warrant described, and as soon as he was satisfied, he folded up the parchment, took it in his left hand, and with his right he took hold of don Quixote firmly by the neck so he couldn’t breathe, and with loud shouts cried: “Help, in the name of the Holy Brotherhood! To prove my claim is valid, read what this warrant says about arresting this highwayman.”

The priest took the warrant and saw that everything the officer said was true, and that the description was of don Quixote, who, seeing himself so badly treated by the villainous brigand, his rage mounted, and straining every bone in his body to the point of breaking, grabbed the neck of the officer with both hands, and if the officer hadn’t been saved by his companions, he would have lost his life right there before don Quixote released his grip. The innkeeper, who was required to help those of this office, ran over to help him. The innkeeper’s wife, who saw her husband in a new battle, once again raised a new outcry, and Maritornes and her daughter joined in, asking for the help of heaven and all of those who were there. Sancho said, seeing what was going on: “By God, everything my master says about the enchantments in this castle must be true since you can’t have a moment’s peace and quiet in it!”

Don Fernando separated the officer from don Quixote, and to the relief of both, he unlocked their hands, the one clenched firmly on the other’s collar and the other on his enemy’s throat. But for all this the officers didn’t cease their demands for their prisoner and the Company’s help to tie him up and deliver him to them, because that was required for their service to the king and the Holy Brotherhood, on whose behalf they asked again for help in arresting this robber and highwayman of paths and roads.

Don Quixote laughed when he heard these words, and with great calm said: “Come here, base and low-born people. You call the one who gives freedom to men chained together, who releases prisoners, who helps wretches, who raises the fallen, who relieves the needy, a highwayman? Ah, you despicable people, who, because of your base and vile intelligence heaven will not make known to you the virtue embraced by knight errantry, nor will it make you see the sin and ignorance that engulfs you, when you refuse to revere the shadow, not to mention the presence, of any knight errant! Come now, robbers in a band—not officers—highwaymen with the approval of the Holy Brotherhood, tell me: who was the ignoramus who signed the arrest warrant against such a knight errant as I am? Who was it who didn’t know that knights errant are exempt from all jurisdiction—their laws are their sword and their prowess and their statutes are their will? Who was the dimwit, I say again, who doesn’t know that there is no title of nobility with so many privileges and exemptions as the one that knights errant acquire on the day they’re dubbed a knight and devote themselves to the arduous calling of knight-errantry? What knight errant ever paid income or sales tax, levies, vassal’s tax, customs duty, or ferry transit? What tailor ever took money from him for his clothing? What castle warden ever gave him shelter and asked him to pay for his room and board? What king never had him sit at his table? What maiden never fell in love with him? And finally, what knight errant in the world was there, is there, and will there be, who isn’t strong enough to wallop four hundred officers with four hundred punches, all by himself, if they stand in his way?”


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Date: June 1, 2009
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