{"id":31,"date":"2018-11-23T10:19:42","date_gmt":"2018-11-23T10:19:42","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.publiconsulting.com\/wordpress\/donquixoteoflamancha\/chapter\/first-part-part-one-chapter-i\/"},"modified":"2021-07-12T18:07:26","modified_gmt":"2021-07-12T18:07:26","slug":"first-part-part-one-chapter-i","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/www.publiconsulting.com\/wordpress\/donquixoteoflamancha\/chapter\/first-part-part-one-chapter-i\/","title":{"rendered":"First Part. Part One. Chapter I"},"content":{"raw":"

Part One of the Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of la Mancha<\/h1>\r\nCHAPTER I (click to read it in Spanish)<\/em><\/a>\r\n
\r\n

Which describes the condition and profession of the famous gentleman Don Quixote of la Mancha<\/span><\/h2>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

In a village in la Mancha,[footnote]The well-known beginning of Don Quixote, in Spanish, is 'En un lugar de la Mancha'. Cervantes always writes 'la Mancha' and never 'La Mancha'. 'Lugar' here does not mean 'place', it means a small village not big enough to be considered a 'villa'. In Spain, the equivalent of town would be 'villa', a population unit between a village (pueblo) and a city (ciudad), and is not defined by the number of inhabitants, but by some historical rights and privileges dating from the Middle Ages, such as the right to hold a market or fair. The beginning 'En un lugar de la Mancha' is also found in Romancero General (Madrid, 1600) in an anonymous romance that says: \u00abUn lencero portugu\u00e9s, \/ reci\u00e9n venido a Castilla, \/ m\u00e1s valiente que Rold\u00e1n \/ y m\u00e1s gal\u00e1n que Mac\u00edas, \/ en un lugar de la Mancha, \/ que no le saldr\u00e1 en su vida, \/se enamor\u00f3 muy de espacio \/ de una bella casadilla...\u00bb. Scholars tend to think of this as a coincidence.[\/footnote] whose name I do not care to remember, an hidalgo[footnote]This Spanish word means nobleman. Don Quixote is part of Spanish nobility, although of the lowest rank. As we will see, Don Quixote is not rich, he lives without working though. When it is necessary, he sells his estates to keep going. Nowadays there is still a Real Asociaci\u00f3n de Hidalgos de Espa\u00f1a<\/em><\/a>[\/footnote] lived not long ago, one of those who keeps a lance on the rack, an old leather shield, skinny nag[footnote]Nag is a preferred translation of\u00a0rocin<\/em>, rather than just horse.<\/span> Rocin<\/em> is a short, bad looking workhorse.<\/span> Some lines later Cervantes uses rocin<\/em> to derive 'Rocinante<\/em>' the name of Don Quixote's horse<\/span><\/span> [\/footnote] and swift greyhound. An occasional stew, beef more often than lamb, hash most nights, eggs and rashers of bacon[footnote]Amazingly, tons of papers have been written to explain what Don Quixote ate on Saturdays. In 1980 Bruce W. Wardropper explained it completely here<\/a>.[\/footnote]\u00a0on Saturdays, lentils on Fridays, some squab added on Sundays\u2014these consumed three-fourths of his income.30<\/a><\/span><\/sup> The rest went for a light woolen tunic and velvet breeches and hose of the same material for feast days, while weekdays were honored with dun-colored coarse cloth. He had a housekeeper past forty, a niece not yet twenty, and a man-of-all-work who did everything from saddling the horse to pruning the trees. Our gentleman was approximately fifty years old; his complexion was weathered, his flesh scrawny, his face gaunt, and he was a very early riser and a great lover of the hunt. Some claim that his family name was Quixada, or Quexada, for there is a certain amount of disagreement among the authors who write of this matter, although reliable conjecture seems to indicate that his name was Quexana. But this does not matter very much to our story; in its telling there is absolutely no deviation from the truth.<\/p>\r\n

And so, let it be said that this aforementioned gentleman spent his times of leisure\u2014which meant most of the year\u2014reading books of chivalry with so much devotion and enthusiasm that he forgot almost completely about the hunt and even about the administration of his estate; and in his rash curiosity and folly he went so far as to sell acres of arable land in order to buy books of chivalry to read, and he brought as many of them as he could into his house; and he thought none was as fine as those composed by the worthy Feliciano de Silva,31<\/a><\/span><\/sup> because the clarity of his prose and complexity of his language seemed to him more valuable than pearls, in particular when he read the declarations and missives of love, where he would often find written: The reason for the unreason to which my reason turns so weakens my reason that with reason I complain of thy beauty.<\/span> And also when he read:\u2026the heavens on high divinely heighten thy divinity with the stars and make thee deserving of the deserts thy greatness deserves.<\/span><\/p>\r\n

With these words and phrases the poor gentleman lost his mind, and he spent sleepless nights trying to understand them and extract their meaning, which Aristotle himself, if he came back to life for only that purpose, would not have been able to decipher or understand. Our gentleman was not very happy with the wounds that Don Belian\u00eds gave and received, because he imagined that no matter how great the physicians and surgeons who cured him, he would still have his face and entire body covered with scars and marks. But, even so, he praised the author for having concluded his book with the promise of unending adventure, and he often felt the desire to take up his pen and give it the conclusion promised there; and no doubt he would have done so, and even published it, if other greater and more persistent thoughts had not prevented him from doing so. He often had discussions with the village priest\u2014who was a learned man, a graduate of Sig\u00fcenza32<\/a><\/span><\/sup>\u2014regarding who had been the greater knight, Palmer\u00edn of England or Amad\u00eds of Gaul; but Master Nicol\u00e1s, the village barber, said that none was the equal of the Knight of Phoebus, and if any could be compared to him, it was Don Galaor, the brother of Amad\u00eds of Gaul, because he was moderate in everything: a knight who was not affected, not as weepy as his brother, and incomparable in questions of courage.<\/p>\r\n

In short, our gentleman became so caught up in reading that he spent his nights reading from dusk till dawn and his days reading from sunrise to sunset, and so with too little sleep and too much reading his brains dried up, causing him to lose his mind. His fantasy filled with everything he had read in his books, enchantments as well as combats, battles, challenges, wounds, courtings, loves, torments, and other impossible foolishness, and he became so convinced in his imagination of the truth of all the countless grandiloquent and false inventions he read that for him no history in the world was truer. He would say that El Cid Ruy D\u00edaz33<\/a><\/span><\/sup> had been a very good knight but could not compare to Amad\u00eds, the Knight of the Blazing Sword, who with a single backstroke cut two ferocious and colossal giants in half. He was fonder of Bernardo del Carpio34<\/a><\/span><\/sup> because at Roncesvalles35<\/a><\/span><\/sup> he had killed the enchanted Roland by availing himself of the tactic of Hercules when he crushed Antaeus, the son of Earth, in his arms. He spoke highly of the giant Morgante because, although he belonged to the race of giants, all of them haughty and lacking in courtesy, he alone was amiable and well-behaved. But, more than any of the others, he admired Reinaldos de Montalb\u00e1n,36<\/a><\/span><\/sup> above all when he saw him emerge from his castle and rob anyone he met, and when he crossed the sea and stole the idol of Mohammed made all of gold, as recounted in his history. He would have traded his housekeeper, and even his niece, for the chance to strike a blow at the traitor Guenelon.37<\/a><\/span><\/sup><\/p>\r\n

The truth is that when his mind was completely gone, he had the strangest thought any lunatic in the world ever had, which was that it seemed reasonable and necessary to him, both for the sake of his honor and as a service to the nation, to become a knight errant and travel the world with his armor and his horse to seek adventures and engage in everything he had read that knights errant engaged in, righting all manner of wrongs and, by seizing the opportunity and placing himself in danger and ending those wrongs, winning eternal renown and everlasting fame. The poor man imagined himself already wearing the crown, won by the valor of his arm, of the empire of Trebizond at the very least; and so it was that with these exceedingly agreeable thoughts, and carried away by the extraordinary pleasure he took in them, he hastened to put into effect what he so fervently desired. And the first thing he did was to attempt to clean some armor that had belonged to his great-grandfathers and, stained with rust and covered with mildew, had spent many long years stored and forgotten in a corner. He did the best he could to clean and repair it, but he saw that it had a great defect, which was that instead of a full sallet helmet with an attached neckguard, there was only a simple headpiece; but he compensated for this with his industry, and out of pasteboard he fashioned a kind of half-helmet that, when attached to the headpiece, took on the appearance of a full sallet. It is true that in order to test if it was strong and could withstand a blow, he took out his sword and struck it twice, and with the first blow he undid in a moment what it had taken him a week to create; he could not help being disappointed at the ease with which he had hacked it to pieces, and to protect against that danger, he made another one, placing strips of iron on the inside so that he was satisfied with its strength; and not wanting to put it to the test again, he designated and accepted it as an extremely fine sallet.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Then he went to look at his nag, and though its hooves had more cracks than his master\u2019s pate and it showed more flaws than Gonnella\u2019s horse, that tantum pellis et ossa fuit,<\/span> 38<\/a><\/span><\/sup> it seemed to him that Alexander\u2019s Bucephalus and El Cid\u2019s Babieca were not its equal. He spent four days thinking about the name he would give it; for\u2014as he told himself\u2014it was not seemly that the horse of so famous a knight, and a steed so intrinsically excellent, should not have a worthy name; he was looking for the precise name that would declare what the horse had been before its master became a knight errant and what it was now; for he was determined that if the master was changing his condition, the horse too would change its name to one that would win the fame and recognition its new position and profession deserved; and so, after many names that he shaped and discarded, subtracted from and added to, unmade and re-made in his memory and imagination, he finally decided to call the horse Rocinante,<\/span> 39<\/a><\/span><\/sup> a name, in his opinion, that was noble, sonorous, and reflective of what it had been when it was a nag, before it was what it was now, which was the foremost nag in all the world.<\/p>\r\n

Having given a name, and one so much to his liking, to his horse, he wanted to give one to himself, and he spent another eight days pondering this, and at last he called himself Don Quixote,<\/span> 40<\/a><\/span><\/sup> which is why, as has been noted, the authors of this absolutely true history determined that he undoubtedly must have been named Quixada and not Quexada, as others have claimed. In any event, recalling that the valiant Amad\u00eds had not been content with simply calling himself Amad\u00eds but had added the name of his kingdom and realm in order to bring it fame, and was known as Amad\u00eds of Gaul, he too, like a good knight, wanted to add the name of his birthplace to his own, and he called himself Don Quixote of la Mancha,<\/span> 41<\/a><\/span><\/sup> thereby, to his mind, clearly stating his lineage and country and honoring it by making it part of his title.<\/p>\r\n

Having cleaned his armor and made a full helmet out of a simple headpiece, and having given a name to his horse and decided on one for himself, he realized that the only thing left for him to do was to find a lady to love; for the knight errant without a lady-love was a tree without leaves or fruit, a body without a soul. He said to himself:<\/p>\r\n

\u201cIf I, because of my evil sins, or my good fortune, meet with a giant somewhere, as ordinarily befalls knights errant, and I unseat him with a single blow, or cut his body in half, or, in short, conquer and defeat him, would it not be good to have someone to whom I could send him so that he might enter and fall to his knees before my sweet lady, and say in the humble voice of surrender: \u2018I, lady, am the giant Caraculiambro, lord of the island Malindrania, defeated in single combat by the never sufficiently praised knight Don Quixote of la Mancha, who commanded me to appear before your ladyship, so that your highness might dispose of me as you chose\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\r\n

Oh, how pleased our good knight was when he had made this speech, and even more pleased when he discovered the one he could call his lady! It is believed that in a nearby village there was a very attractive peasant girl with whom he had once been in love, although she, apparently, never knew or noticed. Her name was Aldonza Lorenzo,42<\/a><\/span><\/sup> and he thought it a good idea to call her the lady of his thoughts, and, searching for a name that would not differ significantly from hers and would suggest and imply that of a princess and great lady, he decided to call her Dulcinea del Toboso,<\/span> 43<\/a><\/span><\/sup> because she came from El Toboso, a name, to his mind, that was musical and beautiful and filled with significance, as were all the others he had given to himself and everything pertaining to him.<\/p>\r\n","rendered":"

Part One of the Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of la Mancha<\/h1>\n

CHAPTER I (click to read it in Spanish)<\/em><\/a><\/p>\n

\n

Which describes the condition and profession of the famous gentleman Don Quixote of la Mancha<\/span><\/h2>\n<\/div>\n

\"image\"<\/p>\n

In a village in la Mancha,[1]<\/sup><\/a> whose name I do not care to remember, an hidalgo[2]<\/sup><\/a> lived not long ago, one of those who keeps a lance on the rack, an old leather shield, skinny nag[3]<\/sup><\/a> and swift greyhound. An occasional stew, beef more often than lamb, hash most nights, eggs and rashers of bacon[4]<\/sup><\/a>\u00a0on Saturdays, lentils on Fridays, some squab added on Sundays\u2014these consumed three-fourths of his income.30<\/a><\/span><\/sup> The rest went for a light woolen tunic and velvet breeches and hose of the same material for feast days, while weekdays were honored with dun-colored coarse cloth. He had a housekeeper past forty, a niece not yet twenty, and a man-of-all-work who did everything from saddling the horse to pruning the trees. Our gentleman was approximately fifty years old; his complexion was weathered, his flesh scrawny, his face gaunt, and he was a very early riser and a great lover of the hunt. Some claim that his family name was Quixada, or Quexada, for there is a certain amount of disagreement among the authors who write of this matter, although reliable conjecture seems to indicate that his name was Quexana. But this does not matter very much to our story; in its telling there is absolutely no deviation from the truth.<\/p>\n

And so, let it be said that this aforementioned gentleman spent his times of leisure\u2014which meant most of the year\u2014reading books of chivalry with so much devotion and enthusiasm that he forgot almost completely about the hunt and even about the administration of his estate; and in his rash curiosity and folly he went so far as to sell acres of arable land in order to buy books of chivalry to read, and he brought as many of them as he could into his house; and he thought none was as fine as those composed by the worthy Feliciano de Silva,31<\/a><\/span><\/sup> because the clarity of his prose and complexity of his language seemed to him more valuable than pearls, in particular when he read the declarations and missives of love, where he would often find written: The reason for the unreason to which my reason turns so weakens my reason that with reason I complain of thy beauty.<\/span> And also when he read:\u2026the heavens on high divinely heighten thy divinity with the stars and make thee deserving of the deserts thy greatness deserves.<\/span><\/p>\n

With these words and phrases the poor gentleman lost his mind, and he spent sleepless nights trying to understand them and extract their meaning, which Aristotle himself, if he came back to life for only that purpose, would not have been able to decipher or understand. Our gentleman was not very happy with the wounds that Don Belian\u00eds gave and received, because he imagined that no matter how great the physicians and surgeons who cured him, he would still have his face and entire body covered with scars and marks. But, even so, he praised the author for having concluded his book with the promise of unending adventure, and he often felt the desire to take up his pen and give it the conclusion promised there; and no doubt he would have done so, and even published it, if other greater and more persistent thoughts had not prevented him from doing so. He often had discussions with the village priest\u2014who was a learned man, a graduate of Sig\u00fcenza32<\/a><\/span><\/sup>\u2014regarding who had been the greater knight, Palmer\u00edn of England or Amad\u00eds of Gaul; but Master Nicol\u00e1s, the village barber, said that none was the equal of the Knight of Phoebus, and if any could be compared to him, it was Don Galaor, the brother of Amad\u00eds of Gaul, because he was moderate in everything: a knight who was not affected, not as weepy as his brother, and incomparable in questions of courage.<\/p>\n

In short, our gentleman became so caught up in reading that he spent his nights reading from dusk till dawn and his days reading from sunrise to sunset, and so with too little sleep and too much reading his brains dried up, causing him to lose his mind. His fantasy filled with everything he had read in his books, enchantments as well as combats, battles, challenges, wounds, courtings, loves, torments, and other impossible foolishness, and he became so convinced in his imagination of the truth of all the countless grandiloquent and false inventions he read that for him no history in the world was truer. He would say that El Cid Ruy D\u00edaz33<\/a><\/span><\/sup> had been a very good knight but could not compare to Amad\u00eds, the Knight of the Blazing Sword, who with a single backstroke cut two ferocious and colossal giants in half. He was fonder of Bernardo del Carpio34<\/a><\/span><\/sup> because at Roncesvalles35<\/a><\/span><\/sup> he had killed the enchanted Roland by availing himself of the tactic of Hercules when he crushed Antaeus, the son of Earth, in his arms. He spoke highly of the giant Morgante because, although he belonged to the race of giants, all of them haughty and lacking in courtesy, he alone was amiable and well-behaved. But, more than any of the others, he admired Reinaldos de Montalb\u00e1n,36<\/a><\/span><\/sup> above all when he saw him emerge from his castle and rob anyone he met, and when he crossed the sea and stole the idol of Mohammed made all of gold, as recounted in his history. He would have traded his housekeeper, and even his niece, for the chance to strike a blow at the traitor Guenelon.37<\/a><\/span><\/sup><\/p>\n

The truth is that when his mind was completely gone, he had the strangest thought any lunatic in the world ever had, which was that it seemed reasonable and necessary to him, both for the sake of his honor and as a service to the nation, to become a knight errant and travel the world with his armor and his horse to seek adventures and engage in everything he had read that knights errant engaged in, righting all manner of wrongs and, by seizing the opportunity and placing himself in danger and ending those wrongs, winning eternal renown and everlasting fame. The poor man imagined himself already wearing the crown, won by the valor of his arm, of the empire of Trebizond at the very least; and so it was that with these exceedingly agreeable thoughts, and carried away by the extraordinary pleasure he took in them, he hastened to put into effect what he so fervently desired. And the first thing he did was to attempt to clean some armor that had belonged to his great-grandfathers and, stained with rust and covered with mildew, had spent many long years stored and forgotten in a corner. He did the best he could to clean and repair it, but he saw that it had a great defect, which was that instead of a full sallet helmet with an attached neckguard, there was only a simple headpiece; but he compensated for this with his industry, and out of pasteboard he fashioned a kind of half-helmet that, when attached to the headpiece, took on the appearance of a full sallet. It is true that in order to test if it was strong and could withstand a blow, he took out his sword and struck it twice, and with the first blow he undid in a moment what it had taken him a week to create; he could not help being disappointed at the ease with which he had hacked it to pieces, and to protect against that danger, he made another one, placing strips of iron on the inside so that he was satisfied with its strength; and not wanting to put it to the test again, he designated and accepted it as an extremely fine sallet.<\/p>\n

\"image\"<\/p>\n

Then he went to look at his nag, and though its hooves had more cracks than his master\u2019s pate and it showed more flaws than Gonnella\u2019s horse, that tantum pellis et ossa fuit,<\/span> 38<\/a><\/span><\/sup> it seemed to him that Alexander\u2019s Bucephalus and El Cid\u2019s Babieca were not its equal. He spent four days thinking about the name he would give it; for\u2014as he told himself\u2014it was not seemly that the horse of so famous a knight, and a steed so intrinsically excellent, should not have a worthy name; he was looking for the precise name that would declare what the horse had been before its master became a knight errant and what it was now; for he was determined that if the master was changing his condition, the horse too would change its name to one that would win the fame and recognition its new position and profession deserved; and so, after many names that he shaped and discarded, subtracted from and added to, unmade and re-made in his memory and imagination, he finally decided to call the horse Rocinante,<\/span> 39<\/a><\/span><\/sup> a name, in his opinion, that was noble, sonorous, and reflective of what it had been when it was a nag, before it was what it was now, which was the foremost nag in all the world.<\/p>\n

Having given a name, and one so much to his liking, to his horse, he wanted to give one to himself, and he spent another eight days pondering this, and at last he called himself Don Quixote,<\/span> 40<\/a><\/span><\/sup> which is why, as has been noted, the authors of this absolutely true history determined that he undoubtedly must have been named Quixada and not Quexada, as others have claimed. In any event, recalling that the valiant Amad\u00eds had not been content with simply calling himself Amad\u00eds but had added the name of his kingdom and realm in order to bring it fame, and was known as Amad\u00eds of Gaul, he too, like a good knight, wanted to add the name of his birthplace to his own, and he called himself Don Quixote of la Mancha,<\/span> 41<\/a><\/span><\/sup> thereby, to his mind, clearly stating his lineage and country and honoring it by making it part of his title.<\/p>\n

Having cleaned his armor and made a full helmet out of a simple headpiece, and having given a name to his horse and decided on one for himself, he realized that the only thing left for him to do was to find a lady to love; for the knight errant without a lady-love was a tree without leaves or fruit, a body without a soul. He said to himself:<\/p>\n

\u201cIf I, because of my evil sins, or my good fortune, meet with a giant somewhere, as ordinarily befalls knights errant, and I unseat him with a single blow, or cut his body in half, or, in short, conquer and defeat him, would it not be good to have someone to whom I could send him so that he might enter and fall to his knees before my sweet lady, and say in the humble voice of surrender: \u2018I, lady, am the giant Caraculiambro, lord of the island Malindrania, defeated in single combat by the never sufficiently praised knight Don Quixote of la Mancha, who commanded me to appear before your ladyship, so that your highness might dispose of me as you chose\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n

Oh, how pleased our good knight was when he had made this speech, and even more pleased when he discovered the one he could call his lady! It is believed that in a nearby village there was a very attractive peasant girl with whom he had once been in love, although she, apparently, never knew or noticed. Her name was Aldonza Lorenzo,42<\/a><\/span><\/sup> and he thought it a good idea to call her the lady of his thoughts, and, searching for a name that would not differ significantly from hers and would suggest and imply that of a princess and great lady, he decided to call her Dulcinea del Toboso,<\/span> 43<\/a><\/span><\/sup> because she came from El Toboso, a name, to his mind, that was musical and beautiful and filled with significance, as were all the others he had given to himself and everything pertaining to him.<\/p>\n

\"image\"<\/p>\n

  1. The well-known beginning of Don Quixote, in Spanish, is 'En un lugar de la Mancha'. Cervantes always writes 'la Mancha' and never 'La Mancha'. 'Lugar' here does not mean 'place', it means a small village not big enough to be considered a 'villa'. In Spain, the equivalent of town would be 'villa', a population unit between a village (pueblo) and a city (ciudad), and is not defined by the number of inhabitants, but by some historical rights and privileges dating from the Middle Ages, such as the right to hold a market or fair. The beginning 'En un lugar de la Mancha' is also found in Romancero General (Madrid, 1600) in an anonymous romance that says: \u00abUn lencero portugu\u00e9s, \/ reci\u00e9n venido a Castilla, \/ m\u00e1s valiente que Rold\u00e1n \/ y m\u00e1s gal\u00e1n que Mac\u00edas, \/ en un lugar de la Mancha, \/ que no le saldr\u00e1 en su vida, \/se enamor\u00f3 muy de espacio \/ de una bella casadilla...\u00bb. Scholars tend to think of this as a coincidence. ↵<\/a><\/li>
  2. This Spanish word means nobleman. Don Quixote is part of Spanish nobility, although of the lowest rank. As we will see, Don Quixote is not rich, he lives without working though. When it is necessary, he sells his estates to keep going. Nowadays there is still a Real Asociaci\u00f3n de Hidalgos de Espa\u00f1a<\/em><\/a> ↵<\/a><\/li>
  3. Nag is a preferred translation of\u00a0rocin<\/em>, rather than just horse.<\/span> Rocin<\/em> is a short, bad looking workhorse.<\/span> Some lines later Cervantes uses rocin<\/em> to derive 'Rocinante<\/em>' the name of Don Quixote's horse<\/span><\/span> ↵<\/a><\/li>
  4. Amazingly, tons of papers have been written to explain what Don Quixote ate on Saturdays. In 1980 Bruce W. Wardropper explained it completely here<\/a>. ↵<\/a><\/li><\/ol><\/div>","protected":false},"author":1,"menu_order":8,"template":"","meta":{"pb_show_title":"","pb_short_title":"","pb_subtitle":"","pb_authors":[],"pb_section_license":""},"chapter-type":[],"contributor":[],"license":[],"class_list":["post-31","chapter","type-chapter","status-publish","hentry"],"part":173,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.publiconsulting.com\/wordpress\/donquixoteoflamancha\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/31","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.publiconsulting.com\/wordpress\/donquixoteoflamancha\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.publiconsulting.com\/wordpress\/donquixoteoflamancha\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/chapter"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.publiconsulting.com\/wordpress\/donquixoteoflamancha\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"version-history":[{"count":52,"href":"https:\/\/www.publiconsulting.com\/wordpress\/donquixoteoflamancha\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/31\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1223,"href":"https:\/\/www.publiconsulting.com\/wordpress\/donquixoteoflamancha\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/31\/revisions\/1223"}],"part":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.publiconsulting.com\/wordpress\/donquixoteoflamancha\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/parts\/173"}],"metadata":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.publiconsulting.com\/wordpress\/donquixoteoflamancha\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/31\/metadata\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.publiconsulting.com\/wordpress\/donquixoteoflamancha\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=31"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"chapter-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.publiconsulting.com\/wordpress\/donquixoteoflamancha\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapter-type?post=31"},{"taxonomy":"contributor","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.publiconsulting.com\/wordpress\/donquixoteoflamancha\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/contributor?post=31"},{"taxonomy":"license","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.publiconsulting.com\/wordpress\/donquixoteoflamancha\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/license?post=31"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}