CHAPTER 43
OF THE SECOND SET OF COUNSELS DON QUIXOTE GAVE SANCHO PANZA
Who, hearing the foregoing discourse of Don Quixote, would not have
set him down for a person of great good sense and greater rectitude of pur-
pose? But, as has been frequently observed in the course of this great histo-
ry, he only talked nonsense when he touched on chivalry, and in discussing
all other subjects showed that he had a clear and unbiassed understanding;
so that at every turn his acts gave the lie to his intellect, and his intellect to
his acts; but in the case of these second counsels that he gave Sancho he
showed himself to have a lively turn of humour, and displayed conspicuous-
ly his wisdom, and also his folly.
Sancho listened to him with the deepest attention, and endeavoured to fix
his counsels in his memory, like one who meant to follow them and by their
means bring the full promise of his government to a happy issue. Don
Quixote, then, went on to say:
“With regard to the mode in which thou shouldst govern thy person and
thy house, Sancho, the first charge I have to give thee is to be clean, and to
cut thy nails, not letting them grow as some do, whose ignorance makes
them fancy that long nails are an ornament to their hands, as if those excres-
cences they neglect to cut were nails, and not the talons of a lizard-catching
kestrel—a filthy and unnatural abuse.
“Go not ungirt and loose, Sancho; for disordered attire is a sign of an un-
stable mind, unless indeed the slovenliness and slackness is to be set down
to craft, as was the common opinion in the case of Julius Caesar.
“Ascertain cautiously what thy office may be worth; and if it will allow
thee to give liveries to thy servants, give them respectable and serviceable,
rather than showy and gay ones, and divide them between thy servants and
the poor; that is to say, if thou canst clothe six pages, clothe three and three
poor men, and thus thou wilt have pages for heaven and pages for earth; the
vainglorious never think of this new mode of giving liveries.
“Eat not garlic nor onions, lest they find out thy boorish origin by the
smell; walk slowly and speak deliberately, but not in such a way as to make
it seem thou art listening to thyself, for all affectation is bad.
“Dine sparingly and sup more sparingly still; for the health of the whole
body is forged in the workshop of the stomach.
“Be temperate in drinking, bearing in mind that wine in excess keeps nei-
ther secrets nor promises.
“Take care, Sancho, not to chew on both sides, and not to eruct in any-
body’s presence.”
“Eruct!” said Sancho; “I don’t know what that means.”
“To eruct, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “means to belch, and that is one of
the filthiest words in the Spanish language, though a very expressive one;
and therefore nice folk have had recourse to the Latin, and instead of belch
say eruct, and instead of belches say eructations; and if some do not under-
stand these terms it matters little, for custom will bring them into use in the
course of time, so that they will be readily understood; this is the way a lan-
guage is enriched; custom and the public are all-powerful there.”
“In truth, senor,” said Sancho, “one of the counsels and cautions I mean
to bear in mind shall be this, not to belch, for I’m constantly doing it.”
“Eruct, Sancho, not belch,” said Don Quixote.
“Eruct, I shall say henceforth, and I swear not to forget it,” said Sancho.
“Likewise, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “thou must not mingle such a
quantity of proverbs in thy discourse as thou dost; for though proverbs are
short maxims, thou dost drag them in so often by the head and shoulders
that they savour more of nonsense than of maxims.”
“God alone can cure that,” said Sancho; “for I have more proverbs in me
than a book, and when I speak they come so thick together into my mouth
that they fall to fighting among themselves to get out; that’s why my tongue
lets fly the first that come, though they may not be pat to the purpose. But
I’ll take care henceforward to use such as befit the dignity of my office; for
‘in a house where there’s plenty, supper is soon cooked,’ and ‘he who binds
does not wrangle,’ and ‘the bell-ringer’s in a safe berth,’ and ‘giving and
keeping require brains.'”
“That’s it, Sancho!” said Don Quixote; “pack, tack, string proverbs to-
gether; nobody is hindering thee! ‘My mother beats me, and I go on with my
tricks.’ I am bidding thee avoid proverbs, and here in a second thou hast
shot out a whole litany of them, which have as much to do with what we are
talking about as ‘over the hills of Ubeda.’ Mind, Sancho, I do not say that a
proverb aptly brought in is objectionable; but to pile up and string together
proverbs at random makes conversation dull and vulgar.
“When thou ridest on horseback, do not go lolling with thy body on the
back of the saddle, nor carry thy legs stiff or sticking out from the horse’s
belly, nor yet sit so loosely that one would suppose thou wert on Dapple; for
the seat on a horse makes gentlemen of some and grooms of others.
“Be moderate in thy sleep; for he who does not rise early does not get the
benefit of the day; and remember, Sancho, diligence is the mother of good
fortune, and indolence, its opposite, never yet attained the object of an hon-
est ambition.
“The last counsel I will give thee now, though it does not tend to bodily
improvement, I would have thee carry carefully in thy memory, for I believe
it will be no less useful to thee than those I have given thee already, and it is
this—never engage in a dispute about families, at least in the way of com-
paring them one with another; for necessarily one of those compared will be
better than the other, and thou wilt be hated by the one thou hast disparaged,
and get nothing in any shape from the one thou hast exalted.
“Thy attire shall be hose of full length, a long jerkin, and a cloak a trifle
longer; loose breeches by no means, for they are becoming neither for gen-
tlemen nor for governors.
“For the present, Sancho, this is all that has occurred to me to advise
thee; as time goes by and occasions arise my instructions shall follow, if
thou take care to let me know how thou art circumstanced.”
“Senor,” said Sancho, “I see well enough that all these things your wor-
ship has said to me are good, holy, and profitable; but what use will they be
to me if I don’t remember one of them? To be sure that about not letting my
nails grow, and marrying again if I have the chance, will not slip out of my
head; but all that other hash, muddle, and jumble—I don’t and can’t recol-
lect any more of it than of last year’s clouds; so it must be given me in writ-
ing; for though I can’t either read or write, I’ll give it to my confessor, to
drive it into me and remind me of it whenever it is necessary.”
“Ah, sinner that I am!” said Don Quixote, “how bad it looks in governors
not to know how to read or write; for let me tell thee, Sancho, when a man
knows not how to read, or is left-handed, it argues one of two things; either
that he was the son of exceedingly mean and lowly parents, or that he him-
self was so incorrigible and ill-conditioned that neither good company nor
good teaching could make any impression on him. It is a great defect that
thou labourest under, and therefore I would have thee learn at any rate to
sign thy name.” “I can sign my name well enough,” said Sancho, “for when
I was steward of the brotherhood in my village I learned to make certain let-
ters, like the marks on bales of goods, which they told me made out my
name. Besides I can pretend my right hand is disabled and make some one
else sign for me, for ‘there’s a remedy for everything except death;’ and as I
shall be in command and hold the staff, I can do as I like; moreover, ‘he
who has the alcalde for his father-,’ and I’ll be governor, and that’s higher
than alcalde. Only come and see! Let them make light of me and abuse me;
‘they’ll come for wool and go back shorn;’ ‘whom God loves, his house is
known to Him;’ ‘the silly sayings of the rich pass for saws in the world;’ and
as I’ll be rich, being a governor, and at the same time generous, as I mean to
be, no fault will be seen in me. ‘Only make yourself honey and the flies will
suck you;’ ‘as much as thou hast so much art thou worth,’ as my grandmoth-
er used to say; and ‘thou canst have no revenge of a man of substance.'”
“Oh, God’s curse upon thee, Sancho!” here exclaimed Don Quixote; “six-
ty thousand devils fly away with thee and thy proverbs! For the last hour
thou hast been stringing them together and inflicting the pangs of torture on
me with every one of them. Those proverbs will bring thee to the gallows
one day, I promise thee; thy subjects will take the government from thee, or
there will be revolts among them. Tell me, where dost thou pick them up,
thou booby? How dost thou apply them, thou blockhead? For with me, to
utter one and make it apply properly, I have to sweat and labour as if I were
digging.”
“By God, master mine,” said Sancho, “your worship is making a fuss
about very little. Why the devil should you be vexed if I make use of what
is my own? And I have got nothing else, nor any other stock in trade except
proverbs and more proverbs; and here are three just this instant come into
my head, pat to the purpose and like pears in a basket; but I won’t repeat
them, for ‘sage silence is called Sancho.'”
“That, Sancho, thou art not,” said Don Quixote; “for not only art thou not
sage silence, but thou art pestilent prate and perversity; still I would like to
know what three proverbs have just now come into thy memory, for I have
been turning over mine own—and it is a good one—and none occurs to
me.”
“What can be better,” said Sancho, “than ‘never put thy thumbs between
two back teeth;’ and ‘to “get out of my house” and “what do you want with
my wife?” there is no answer;’ and ‘whether the pitcher hits the stove, or the
stove the pitcher, it’s a bad business for the pitcher;’ all which fit to a hair?
For no one should quarrel with his governor, or him in authority over him,
because he will come off the worst, as he does who puts his finger between
two back and if they are not back teeth it makes no difference, so long as
they are teeth; and to whatever the governor may say there’s no answer, any
more than to ‘get out of my house’ and ‘what do you want with my wife?’
and then, as for that about the stone and the pitcher, a blind man could see
that. So that he ‘who sees the mote in another’s eye had need to see the
beam in his own,’ that it be not said of himself, ‘the dead woman was fright-
ened at the one with her throat cut;’ and your worship knows well that ‘the
fool knows more in his own house than the wise man in another’s.'”
“Nay, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “the fool knows nothing, either in his
own house or in anybody else’s, for no wise structure of any sort can stand
on a foundation of folly; but let us say no more about it, Sancho, for if thou
governest badly, thine will be the fault and mine the shame; but I comfort
myself with having done my duty in advising thee as earnestly and as wise-
ly as I could; and thus I am released from my obligations and my promise.
God guide thee, Sancho, and govern thee in thy government, and deliver me
from the misgiving I have that thou wilt turn the whole island upside down,
a thing I might easily prevent by explaining to the duke what thou art and
telling him that all that fat little person of thine is nothing else but a sack
full of proverbs and sauciness.”
“Senor,” said Sancho, “if your worship thinks I’m not fit for this govern-
ment, I give it up on the spot; for the mere black of the nail of my soul is
dearer to me than my whole body; and I can live just as well, simple San-
cho, on bread and onions, as governor, on partridges and capons; and what’s
more, while we’re asleep we’re all equal, great and small, rich and poor. But
if your worship looks into it, you will see it was your worship alone that put
me on to this business of governing; for I know no more about the govern-
ment of islands than a buzzard; and if there’s any reason to think that be-
cause of my being a governor the devil will get hold of me, I’d rather go
Sancho to heaven than governor to hell.”
“By God, Sancho,” said Don Quixote, “for those last words thou hast ut-
tered alone, I consider thou deservest to be governor of a thousand islands.
Thou hast good natural instincts, without which no knowledge is worth any-
thing; commend thyself to God, and try not to swerve in the pursuit of thy
main object; I mean, always make it thy aim and fixed purpose to do right
in all matters that come before thee, for heaven always helps good inten-
tions; and now let us go to dinner, for I think my lord and lady are waiting
for us.”
