In this passage from Ch. 13 Part 1 of Cervantes’ Don
Quixote, the beautiful shepherdess, Marcela, gives a captivating
speech defending a woman’s right to choose her own lifestyle after
she is blamed for the suffering and death of Grisóstomo, who killed
himself when she rejected him:
“I
come not, Ambrosia for any of the purposes thou hast named,” replied Marcela,
“but to defend myself and to prove how unreasonable are all those who blame me
for their sorrow and for Chrysostom’s death; and therefore I ask all of you
that are here to give me your attention, for will not take much time or many
words to bring the truth home to persons of sense. Heaven has made me, so you
say, beautiful, and so much so that in spite of yourselves my beauty leads you
to love me; and for the love you show me you say, and even urge, that I am
bound to love you. By that natural understanding which God has given me I know
that everything beautiful attracts love, but I cannot see how, by reason of
being loved, that which is loved for its beauty is bound to love that which
loves it; besides, it may happen that the lover of that which is beautiful may
be ugly, and ugliness being detestable, it is very absurd to say, “I love thee
because thou art beautiful, thou must love me though I be ugly.” But supposing
the beauty equal on both sides, it does not follow that the inclinations must
be therefore alike, for it is not every beauty that excites love, some but
pleasing the eye without winning the affection; and if every sort of beauty
excited love and won the heart, the will would wander vaguely to and fro unable
to make choice of any; for as there is an infinity of beautiful objects there
must be an infinity of inclinations, and true love, I have heard it said, is
indivisible, and must be voluntary and not compelled. If this be so, as I
believe it to be, why do you desire me to bend my will by force, for no other
reason but that you say you love me? Nay—tell me—had Heaven made me ugly, as it
has made me beautiful, could I with justice complain of you for not loving me?
Moreover, you must remember that the beauty I possess was no choice of mine,
for, be it what it may, Heaven of its bounty gave it me without my asking or
choosing it; and as the viper, though it kills with it, does not deserve to be
blamed for the poison it carries, as it is a gift of nature, neither do I
deserve reproach for being beautiful; for beauty in a modest woman is like fire
at a distance or a sharp sword; the one does not burn, the other does not cut,
those who do not come too near. Honour and virtue are the ornaments of the
mind, without which the body, though it be so, has no right to pass for
beautiful; but if modesty is one of the virtues that specially lend a grace and
charm to mind and body, why should she who is loved for her beauty part with it
to gratify one who for his pleasure alone strives with all his might and energy
to rob her of it? I was born free, and that I might live in freedom I chose the
solitude of the fields; in the trees of the mountains I find society, the clear
waters of the brooks are my mirrors, and to the trees and waters I make known
my thoughts and charms. I am a fire afar off, a sword laid aside. Those whom I
have inspired with love by letting them see me, I have by words undeceived, and
if their longings live on hope—and I have given none to Chrysostom or to any
other—it cannot justly be said that the death of any is my doing, for it was
rather his own obstinacy than my cruelty that killed him; and if it be made a
charge against me that his wishes were honourable, and that therefore I was
bound to yield to them, I answer that when on this very spot where now his
grave is made he declared to me his purity of purpose, I told him that mine was
to live in perpetual solitude, and that the earth alone should enjoy the fruits
of my retirement and the spoils of my beauty; and if, after this open avowal,
he chose to persist against hope and steer against the wind, what wonder is it
that he should sink in the depths of his infatuation? If I had encouraged him,
I should be false; if I had gratified him, I should have acted against my own
better resolution and purpose. He was persistent in spite of warning, he
despaired without being hated. Bethink you now if it be reasonable that his
suffering should be laid to my charge. Let him who has been deceived complain,
let him give way to despair whose encouraged hopes have proved vain, let him
flatter himself whom I shall entice, let him boast whom I shall receive; but
let not him call me cruel or homicide to whom I make no promise, upon whom I
practise no deception, whom I neither entice nor receive. It has not been so
far the will of Heaven that I should love by fate, and to expect me to love by
choice is idle. Let this general declaration serve for each of my suitors on
his own account, and let it be understood from this time forth that if anyone
dies for me it is not of jealousy or misery he dies, for she who loves no one
can give no cause for jealousy to any, and candour is not to be confounded with
scorn. Let him who calls me wild beast and basilisk, leave me alone as
something noxious and evil; let him who calls me ungrateful, withhold his
service; who calls me wayward, seek not my acquaintance; who calls me cruel,
pursue me not; for this wild beast, this basilisk, this ungrateful, cruel, wayward
being has no kind of desire to seek, serve, know, or follow them. If
Chrysostom’s impatience and violent passion killed him, why should my modest
behaviour and circumspection be blamed? If I preserve my purity in the society
of the trees, why should he who would have me preserve it among men, seek to
rob me of it? I have, as you know, wealth of my own, and I covet not that of
others; my taste is for freedom, and I have no relish for constraint; I neither
love nor hate anyone; I do not deceive this one or court that, or trifle with
one or play with another. The modest converse of the shepherd girls of these
hamlets and the care of my goats are my recreations; my desires are bounded by
these mountains, and if they ever wander hence it is to contemplate the beauty
of the heavens, steps by which the soul travels to its primeval abode.”
With
these words, and not waiting to hear a reply, she turned and passed into the
thickest part of a wood that was hard by, leaving all who were there lost in
admiration as much of her good sense as of her beauty. Some—those wounded by
the irresistible shafts launched by her bright eyes—made as though they would
follow her, heedless of the frank declaration they had heard; seeing which, and
deeming this a fitting occasion for the exercise of his chivalry in aid of
distressed damsels, Don Quixote, laying his hand on the hilt of his sword,
exclaimed in a loud and distinct voice:
“Let
no one, whatever his rank or condition, dare to follow the beautiful Marcela,
under pain of incurring my fierce indignation. She has shown by clear and
satisfactory arguments that little or no fault is to be found with her for the
death of Chrysostom, and also how far she is from yielding to the wishes of any
of her lovers, for which reason, instead of being followed and persecuted, she
should in justice be honoured and esteemed by all the good people of the world,
for she shows that she is the only woman in it that holds to such a virtuous
resolution.”
