Classics and the Western Canon discussion
Don Quixote - Revisited
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Part 2: Chapters LIV -LXI
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The truth is, Master, that if what happened to us today can be called an adventure, it has been one of the gentlest and sweetest that has happened to us in the course of our wanderings: we've come out of it with no beatings and no fear, and we haven't laid a hand on our swords, or battered the ground with our bodies, or been left hungry. God be praised for allowing me to see such a thing with my own eyes.
Can such a thing be called an adventure? Can art, maybe even the art of fiction, be called an adventure?"
I suppose DQ looking at the carved wooden images and giving Sancho a short biography of each knight isn't an adventure in the truest sense of the term, but it does point to the transformative power of stories, i.e. allowing our imagination to go on a trip.
When Sancho was at his lowest ebb, down in the pit in chapter LV, he remarks that "what for me is a misadventure would seem like an adventure to my master, Don Quixote. He'd think these caverns and dungeons were gardens in flower and the palaces of Galiana, and would expect to come out of this dark, narrow place into a flowering meadow..."
I wonder if it's this aspect of DQ's character – the power of his imagination combined with his taste for adventure – that Sancho finds most appealing?

"
DQ is known popularly as a "picaresque" novel, and it may well have started out as one, but moments like these help to distinguish it as something different, maybe even pointing to the "modern" novel. Especially in Part 2, it seems to go in a remarkably inventive direction. There are still some slapstick moments, but for me the most powerful scenes are the ones where DQ's imagination drives the story -- the cave of Montesinos, the flight to the moon, etc. The term "adventure" takes on a new meaning, one that is more intellectual and poetic than action-driven. (And the theme of letters vs. deeds arises again...) So maybe adventure in the "modern" novel can be considered an act of imagination or perception as well as a matter of plot-driven action.
I wonder if it's this aspect of DQ's character – the power of his imagination combined with his taste for adventure – that Sancho finds most appealing?
A very good question. I'm still not sure why Sancho sticks with DQ, except that he loves him. But then I have to ask why? What is at the root of his affection? For that matter, why do we love DQ? Why has this book been so enormously popular for centuries?

b) an exciting or remarkable experience.
I think art can be seen as the second definition, but danger or risk? Well, if literature can be detrimental to one's mental health and perception of reality, maybe it is. However, lots of book burners and censorship of art laid claims on the 'possible dangers' of art influencing the mass. Sometimes I think Cervantes is making fun of the wary, reactionary attitude towards art and propounding the second definition of 'adventure' for art: an exciting or remarkable experience of discovery.


It's a good question. Perhaps Sancho himself gives the most direct answer in Chap 33 when asked by the Duchess why he sticks with Don Quixote.
" ... if I were really sensible I'd have left my master a long time ago. But that was how it worked out for me, and just my bad luck; I couldn't do anything else; I've got to stay with him; we're from the same village, I've eaten his bread, I really like him, and he's grateful to me, he's given me donkey colts and, more than anything else, I'm loyal, so the only thing that could keep us apart is the pick and shovel."Sancho's answer is so much like the character himself: a mix of practicality, acceptance of fate, downhome-ness, personal affection, and loyalty despite all.

I'd like to turn that question around and ask, what's not to love?
Here is a frail, old man, looking ridiculous in his armour and broken-down visor, traipsing across the land, convinced he is doing good by fighting monsters and helping damsels in distress. He is so unequivocal and so passionate in his beliefs. And, yet, everywhere he goes, he makes a mess of things. He is beaten and ridiculed. But his commitment and passion never waver. He just gets up, dusts himself off, and rushes headlong into another adventure to right injustices. One has to applaud the goal even though we know he has no hope of achieving it.
There is such contradiction between the way he appears and the way he envisions his appearance; between what he does and what he thinks he's doing. He's a dithery old man who thinks he's a knight in shining armour. But doesn't that make him all the more endearing?
Part of his charm is that he is so utterly ridiculous, and, yet, so fully committed to living his dream by doing good in the world. That charm rubs off on people who interact with him--and those who read about him.
I guess it must be obvious I'm a life time member of the DQ fan club.

Sancho has just commented that he doesn't understand why Altisidora should be in love with DQ since he has examined him from head to toe and sees nothing physically attractive in him. As he so graciously puts it:
. . . I see more things to drive her away than to make her fall in love.
To which DQ responds:
. . . there are two kinds of beauty: one of the soul and the other of the body; that of the soul is found and seen in one's understanding, chastity, virtuous behavior, liberality, and good breeding, and all of these qualities can exist and reside in an ugly man; and when a person looks at this beauty, and not at that of the body, an intense and advantageous love is engendered. I see very clearly, Sancho, that I am not a handsome man, but I also know that I am not deformed; it is enough for a virtuous man not to be a monster to be well-loved, if he has the endowments of the soul which I have mentioned to you.
Maybe DQ is loved because of "the endowments" of his soul.

"
In a certain context he is definitely lovable, if one can forgive his eccentricities and delusions and not take him too seriously. This is easy for us to do because his fundamentalism is, for us, a relic of the past. No one today follows his brand of chivalric honor in the strict sense that he does, but lots of people follow fundamentalisms of other kinds that are just as well-intentioned, but more dangerous for us today because they are taken seriously. It is a joke for us that he wants to give Sancho 3000 lashes (or that he must administer them to himself) but it isn't a joke when fundamentalists today want to impose their "lashes" on others.
Maybe the first rule of DQ is not to take the work too seriously, but then, every once in a while, Cervantes reminds us in subtle ways that it was written in the midst of the Spanish Inquisition. Like DQ himself, there is both a comical and a sad side to the book.

Good point. But there are differences.
DQ doesn't go through with the lashes. He allows Sancho to talk him out of it. He shows some degree of flexibility.
Also DQ tries to impose his brand of fundamentalism only when he perceives an injustice. Otherwise, he has an attitude of live and let live. He tolerates diversity as long as it does not consist of perpetrating a perceived injustice on others.
He holds himself up to a high standard, but he does not force others to adhere to the same standard. For example, even when he refuses to eat, he does not prevent Sancho from eating. He is harder on himself than he is on others.
I suspect none of that is true of fundamentalists.

Perhaps I read too much into the relationship because I kept coming back to class distinction, station in life for the times."
I don't know if this helps, but way back in Chapter 33, Sancho explains to the duchess his feelings toward DQ. They seem to be a mixture of love and loyalty:
. . . if I were a clever man, I would have left my master days ago. But this is my fate and this is my misfortune; I can't help it; I have to follow him; we're from the same village, I've eaten his bread, I love him dearly, he's a grateful man, he gave me his donkeys, and more than anything else, I'm faithful; and so it's impossible for anything to separate us except the man with the pick shovel.

Put me down as a member of the Sancho Panza fan club. Sancho has a salt-of-the-earth core, all the while evolving and growing through his relationship with Don Quixote and his own experiences.
He comes into his own in Part 2, which by the way I found more engaging and interesting that Part 1 with its many digressions. As Governor of the Island he shows uncommon good sense both in his judgements and then in his decision to walk away. He is grounded and practical (much like me), yet open to imagination, faith, and mission. He is loyal to his family, his village, and his donkey. His relationship with Don Quixote is complex but on balance makes Sancho a better man.

It may be true that there is much about DQ that is light and amusing, but there is more, otherwise we would not still be reading it today. I expect the reason DQ has endured and even been loved for 400 years is that its main characters are so engaging and memorable. They are not “relatable” characters in today’s sense, but they spark the imagination and can speak to some of life’s deeper questions, one of them being how should one live. I've read DQ three times, each separated by about 25 years, and with every read I've found a new perspective, each one tempered by my life's experiences and reflexions.
That said, there is still a lot of froth in DQ. I say, enjoy the froth, but be open to more. The Broadway musical "Man of LaMancha" may be an Americanized take on DQ, but it is not DQ.

That's so interesting.
I have made it a point to read DQ every ten years, and each time I see something different in it for the same reasons you mention. I must admit I am getting more out of it this time around than I have in the past. I attribute that to a combination of the quality of the discussion here and also because I have become pretty old and dithery myself and so feel a greater affinity with DQ.
And just as an aside, I also love Sancho. I love his earthiness and practical wisdom. And I love the fact that he has the generosity of spirit to recognize and appreciate the qualities he sees in DQ.

It's a good question. Perhaps Sancho himse..."
Gary, my apologies. I just noticed I quoted the same passage you did when I responded to Cphe's post @11.
Sorry. I should have noticed the passage had already been posted in your message @6 and simply referred to it.

Ditto.

Perhaps I read too much into the relationship because I kept coming back to class distinction, station..."
I thought it was still Sancho being the son and DQ being the father. Except that it reflects what happens in real life. The son matures and the father becomes more like a child in his latter years.. and the son becomes the caretaker of the father. I have a father and mother-in-law who are both showing signs of becoming more stubborn and dithery and as I look at them, I wonder how my children will react to the 'child' I will become in my old age.

We often tend to think that roles are as fixed as the personality of the characters, but we find out that it really isn't in real life. We are constantly evolving and the simple (Sancho) can become the wiser while the deceiver (duchess/duke) can be come the deceived in quite unexpected ways.
I think one of the pleasures in the somewhat sadistic deceptions of the duke and the duchess (I have to admit I'm disgusted by these two but also find myself guilty of the same cruel nature by laughing at DQ and Sancho's comical mishaps) is that their increasingly intricate plans of deception becomes somewhat awry by their insubordinate conspirators like Tosilos and the deceived ones themselves.
It also makes me wonder at the idleness of the governorship of this duchery in contrast with Sancho's governorship. I mean, do they have nothing better to do with their time?
1. Ricote the Morisco: what is the point of this chapter? What is the role of the outsider in this novel? Isn't DQ himself an outsider?
2. After Altisidora sings her plaintive accusation of DQ, in which she compares DQ to Aeneas, and claims he has stolen from her "two thousand sighs, that could if they were of fire, burn and destroy two thousand Troys" as well as her "three nightcaps, and garters both black and white from legs that rival the purest marble," DQ asks Sancho:
"Sancho, my friend, I implore you to tell me the truth. Tell me, have you, by any chance, taken the three nightcaps and the gareters that this enamored maiden has mentioned?"
To which Sancho responded:
"I do have the three nightcaps, but the garters -- that's really crazy."
I have no question about this. I just think it's hilarious.
3. In Chapter LVIII, DQ and Sancho come across men dressed as farmers who are carrying wooden images carved in relief for an altarpiece in their village. They ask to see them and are moved by the beauty of the pieces. Sancho remarks:
The truth is, Master, that if what happened to us today can be called an adventure, it has been one of the gentlest and sweetest that has happened to us in the course of our wanderings: we've come out of it with no beatings and no fear, and we haven't laid a hand on our swords, or battered the ground with our bodies, or been left hungry. God be praised for allowing me to see such a thing with my own eyes.
Can such a thing be called an adventure? Can art, maybe even the art of fiction, be called an adventure?
4. Once again, the novel itself plays a role in the novel when DQ and Sancho overhear Don Juan and Don Jeronimo discussing Part 2. (Presumably the false Part 2 of Avellaneda.) DQ flies into a rage when he hears that in this history he falls out of love with Dulcinea.
Despite this, DQ avidly reads the false part 2, after which he enumerates its failings, among which is the fact that Sancho's wife is called Mari Gutierrez: "which is incorrect, for her name is Teresa Panza; if he errs in something so important, it is reasonable to fear that he will err in everything else." But one of the names that Cervantes gives Sancho's wife is in fact Mari Gutierrez... What are we to make of this?