The Ingenious Gentleman of La Mancha

[bounty]

my apologies to don Quixote, but...

I am making it my literary life's mission, any time moby dick is mentioned, to jump in and say moby dick sucks!

[Sancho]

Hahaha
I googled “Moby Dick sucks,” and I gotta say, they didn’t come up with anything that was literary at all. (I clicked on it anyway)

[Danik 2016]

Poor Moby Dick. Thought I would be bored by it, but I enjoyed the book very much. Not on account of the whaling, but because it depicts the epic adventure with intensity

[Sancho]

I haven’t quite figured out if the duke and the duchess are just having a little fun at the expense of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, or if they are genuinely interested in the knight and his squire, or if they are trying to keep the dynamic duo safely ensconced at their villa to keep them from creating any more havoc among innocent herds of sheep and windmills in the area, or a combination of all of those.

Whatever the case they went to no small effort to create new adventures for the knight errant. One of the more ambitious deceptions involved Don Quixote and Sancho flying off on Clavileño (a Pegasus-type horse) to deal with the giant/sorcerer Malambruno on behalf of the Dolorous One. Modern flight simulators have the benefit of computer graphic interfaces and motion simulated by putting the whole contraption up on hydraulic lifts. For the 16th century version of a flight simulator they used bellows to simulate the wind and hot coals to signal that our two aviators were getting too close to the sun, and eventually they used fireworks to turn Clavileño into a smoking hole (to borrow some modern fighter pilot lingo). Pretty clever, I say.

Anyway once back on the ground Sancho insisted to the duchess that he’d seen the earth from the heavens and it was the size of a mustard seed. He also claimed to have played with the seven nanny goats of the constellation Pleiades. Don Quixote was dubious of Sancho’s claim, but told him:

Sancho, just as you want to people to believe what you have seen in the sky, I want you to believe what I saw in the Cave of Montesinos. And that is all I have to say.

A lot of the the analysis has Don Quixote actually believing his adventure, but Sancho inventing his. Sancho could have several motivations for this, the most logical being it was in his own self interest to play along with the ruse in order to get his governorship from the duke. At any rate Cervantes leaves it up o the reader to decide. It’s not explicit in the text. To me it seemed that Don Quixote was acknowledging that his adventures were fantasies, which was a rare display of self awareness on his part. And his exchange with Sancho was of the “wink-wink-nudge-nudge” variety. Hey, Sancho, don’t try to bull sh*t a bull sh*tter. We’ve got a good thing going here so let’s don’t screw this up.

A quick note about Pleiades — I know the constellation as the Seven Sisters not the Seven Nanny Goats. Maybe Seven Nanny Goats is a Spanish thing, or perhaps a Sancho thing. The Japanese call the same cluster of stars Subaru for unity and only use six of the stars (you can count them on a Subaru’s hood ornament.) I think it’s pretty cool that for thousands of years people have looked at the sky and made up stories about the stars. I also think it’s pretty cool that a lot of the stories run parallel to each other. The Greeks looked to the northern sky and saw Ursa Major or Big Bear. The Greeks had a whole story explaining why the big bear in the sky has a long tail but the bear in the mountains has a bob tail. Independently a lot of Native American people also saw a bear when they looked to the northern sky, and they also had a story for why the sky bear has a long tail but the grizzly bear doesn’t. I had a Hawaiian tell me they call that constellation Na Hiku, and in their culture it’s a kite. It makes sense they wouldn’t call it a bear since, as far as I know, Hawaii doesn’t have any bears. For understandable reasons Polynesians in particular hold Na Hiku/Ursa Major/The Big Dipper in very high regard as a navigation aid. You know who else used Ursa Major (and no doubt Cassiopeia and Polaris) to find their way? Captain Ahab! Arrrg.

[Danik 2016]

Wonderful post Sancho. I dimly remember the Duke and the Duchess having their fun with the adventurous pair. D Quixote also appears as you showed as a much more ambiguous character in this second volume, while Sancho tries more to humor his master.
Coming back later for the Pleiades. Windows actualization just
now taking over.

[Sancho]

Thanks Danik, and thanks for reading along on this adventure. It has truly helped.

I must say, I’ve enjoyed immensely this time through Don Quixote. Edith Grossman’s translation reads much smoother than the version I read last time, which was translated by Tobias Smollett. Comparing both of them to Cervantes’ Spanish has been challenging and has proven to me that my Spanish really-really stinks.

[Danik 2016]

It has been a pleasure, Sancho. I wish I would have been able to contribute more.
If you feel inspired sometime visit or revisit the Pickwick Papers. I think you will like Sam Weller in spite of Victorian morals.

[Sancho]

Be careful what you wish for — you just may get it. Since Sancho is so fond of explaining the world with his proverbs, I thought I’d toss one back at him.

In Chapter XLV of Part II Sancho finally becomes governor of an ínsula, compliments of The Duke. He’s been dreaming of becoming governor of his own island since early on in Part I when Don Quixote had mentioned to him that it was the sort of thing good squires were rewarded with. Almost as soon as he becomes governor, he realizes it’s not for him. The food is bad. The work is hard. The hours are long. And he misses Don Quixote and his donkey. Oddly though, he does a really good job for his people as governor.

One reason he’s a good governor is because he’s a good guy — he wants to be a good governor, he tries hard, and he has a strong sense of right and wrong. Another reason is the farewell he had with Don Quixote. Just before he left for his ínsula, Don Quixote had a long talk with him about the philosophical basis behind being a good governor. It is a high point of the novel. Every modern-day governor or political leader should read it. It sort of flips the script on Machiavelli. It’s at the end of Chapter XLII.

Sancho resigns his governorship after only ten days. He then retrieves his donkey from the stable and heads back down the King’s Road to rejoin Don Quixote. As he ambles along, he is the picture of contentment.

Ya know, Danik, I haven’t read Dickens in quite some time, and I’ve never read The Pickwick Papers. I’ll have to give it a go.

[Danik 2016]

Lol, this one is current here too! I remember Sancho being a governor of an island and a good one but not that it was for only ten days.

Maybe the Quixote (at least the part about the island) should be obligatory reading for modern politicians.

[Sancho]

Cervantes doesn’t pass up too many opportunities to take a pot-shot at the fake Quixote. In fact when The Don and Sancho are on the road to Zaragoza they meet a fellow traveler who is reading the Fake Quixote and through him they learn that the fake Quixote went to Zaragoza, so they abruptly change their plans and go to Barcelona. As the sun rises on their first day in Barcelona the two them gaze out at the sea for the first time. I like the way Cervantes describes it:

Don Quixote and Sancho turned their eyes in all directions; they saw the ocean, which they had not seen before: it seemed broad and vast to them, much larger than the Lakes of Ruidera that they had seen in La Mancha; they saw the galleys near the shore, and when the canopies were raised, their pennants and streamers were revealed, fluttering in the wind and kissing and sweeping the water; from the galleys came the sound of bugles, trumpets, and flageolets, and the breeze carried the sweetly martial tones near and far. The ships began to move, performing a mock skirmish on the quiet waters, and, corresponding in almost the same fashion, an infinite number of knights on beautiful horses and in splendid livery rode out from the city. The soldiers on the galleys fired countless pieces of artillery, to which those who were on the walls and in the forts of the city responded, and the heavy artillery shook the air with a fearsome clamor and was answered by the midship cannon on the galleys. The joyful sea, the jocund land, the transparent air, perhaps clouded only by the smoke from the artillery, seemed to create and engender a sudden delight in all the people.

It seems to me the description is vivid enough that Cervantes is drawing from personal experience. Sancho however didn’t have the background to make sense of it:

Sancho could not imagine how those shapes moving on the ocean could have so many feet.

[Danik 2016]

Lol, delightful! I think however one of the prior aims of part two is to remind the readers that there is a fake version and to mark the difference between both.

[Sancho]

Indeed, Danik, and he doesn’t just want to delineate the differences between the real and the false Quixote, he wants to prevent anybody from creating any more false Quixotes. So I guess this post isn’t really a spoiler since Cervantes tells us at the outset that Don Quixote will be dead and in his grave by the end of Part II. What he doesn’t tell us is that Don Quixote will regain his sanity by the end of the book. (Just as the Dalai Lama promised Carl in Caddyshack — when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness). At the end of the false Quixote, the knight winds up in an insane asylum, but at the end of the real Don Quixote, he dies at home in his bed with all his friends and relatives around him:

“Alonso Quixano the Good is truly dying, and he has truly recovered his reason; we ought to go in so that he can make his will.”

This news put terrible pressure on the already full eyes of his housekeeper, his niece, and his good squire, Sancho Panza, forcing tears from their eyes and a thousand deep sighs from their bosoms, because the truth is, as has already been said, that whether Don Quixote was simply Alonso Quixano the Good, or whether he was Don Quixote of La Mancha, he always had a gentle disposition and was kind in his treatment of others, and for this reason he was dearly loved not only by those in his household, but by everyone who knew him.

I think Cervantes is telling us that the real Don Quixote is Alonso Quixano the Good, just an ordinary man with big ideas, perhaps like his readers. He died in his bed with loved ones around him and not on far flung battlefield as would a knight errant. I finished this book just as I did the last time — with a tremendous feeling of goodwill towards others. So thank you again Miguel de Cervantes.

[Danik 2016]

Congrats for finishing this masterpiece for the second time, Sancho!I think that among other things Don Quixote is about preserving ones humanity, even if all odds are against it. Thus to be able to live in an unstable and unjust world he had to be crazy but to die he had to be sane.

Just to give your a foretaste of The Pickwick Papers, here is the introduction of Sam Weller to Mr. Pickwick:

Mr. Snodgrass did as he was desired; and Mr. Samuel Weller forthwith presented himself.

‘Oh—you remember me, I suppose?’ said Mr. Pickwick.

‘I should think so,’ replied Sam, with a patronising wink. ‘Queer start that ‘ere, but he was one too many for you, warn’t he? Up to snuff and a pinch or two over—eh?’

‘Never mind that matter now,’ said Mr. Pickwick hastily; ‘I want to speak to you about something else. Sit down.’

‘Thank’ee, sir,’ said Sam. And down he sat without further bidding, having previously deposited his old white hat on the landing outside the door. ‘’Tain’t a wery good ‘un to look at,’ said Sam, ‘but it’s an astonishin’ ‘un to wear; and afore the brim went, it was a wery handsome tile. Hows’ever it’s lighter without it, that’s one thing, and every hole lets in some air, that’s another—wentilation gossamer I calls it.’ On the delivery of this sentiment, Mr. Weller smiled agreeably upon the assembled Pickwickians.

‘Now with regard to the matter on which I, with the concurrence of these gentlemen, sent for you,’ said Mr. Pickwick.

‘That’s the pint, sir,’ interposed Sam; ‘out vith it, as the father said to his child, when he swallowed a farden.’

‘We want to know, in the first place,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘whether you have any reason to be discontented with your present situation.’

‘Afore I answers that ‘ere question, gen’l’m’n,’ replied Mr. Weller, ‘I should like to know, in the first place, whether you’re a-goin’ to purwide me with a better?’

A sunbeam of placid benevolence played on Mr. Pickwick’s features as he said, ‘I have half made up my mind to engage you myself.’

‘Have you, though?’ said Sam.

Mr. Pickwick nodded in the affirmative.

‘Wages?’ inquired Sam.

‘Twelve pounds a year,’ replied Mr. Pickwick.

‘Clothes?’

‘Two suits.’

‘Work?’

‘To attend upon me; and travel about with me and these gentlemen here.’

‘Take the bill down,’ said Sam emphatically. ‘I’m let to a single gentleman, and the terms is agreed upon.’

‘You accept the situation?’ inquired Mr. Pickwick.

‘Cert’nly,’ replied Sam. ‘If the clothes fits me half as well as the place, they’ll do.’

‘You can get a character of course?’ said Mr. Pickwick.

‘Ask the landlady o’ the White Hart about that, Sir,’ replied Sam.

‘Can you come this evening?’

‘I’ll get into the clothes this minute, if they’re here,’ said Sam, with great alacrity.

‘Call at eight this evening,’ said Mr. Pickwick; ‘and if the inquiries are satisfactory, they shall be provided.’

With the single exception of one amiable indiscretion, in which an assistant housemaid had equally participated, the history of Mr. Weller’s conduct was so very blameless, that Mr. Pickwick felt fully justified in closing the engagement that very evening. With the promptness and energy which characterised not only the public proceedings, but all the private actions of this extraordinary man, he at once led his new attendant to one of those convenient emporiums where gentlemen’s new and second-hand clothes are provided, and the troublesome and inconvenient formality of measurement dispensed with; and before night had closed in, Mr. Weller was furnished with a grey coat with the P. C. button, a black hat with a cockade to it, a pink striped waistcoat, light breeches and gaiters, and a variety of other necessaries, too numerous to recapitulate.

‘Well,’ said that suddenly-transformed individual, as he took his seat on the outside of the Eatanswill coach next morning; ‘I wonder whether I’m meant to be a footman, or a groom, or a gamekeeper, or a seedsman. I looks like a sort of compo of every one on ‘em. Never mind; there’s a change of air, plenty to see, and little to do; and all this suits my complaint uncommon; so long life to the Pickvicks, says I!’
https://www.gutenberg.org/files/580/...tm#link2HCH001

[Danik 2016]

In fact they´ve already met here:

‘My friend,’ said the thin gentleman.

‘You’re one o’ the adwice gratis order,’ thought Sam, ‘or you wouldn’t be so wery fond o’ me all at once.’ But he only said—‘Well, Sir.’

‘My friend,’ said the thin gentleman, with a conciliatory hem—‘have you got many people stopping here now? Pretty busy. Eh?’

Sam stole a look at the inquirer. He was a little high-dried man, with a dark squeezed-up face, and small, restless, black eyes, that kept winking and twinkling on each side of his little inquisitive nose, as if they were playing a perpetual game of peep-bo with that feature. He was dressed all in black, with boots as shiny as his eyes, a low white neckcloth, and a clean shirt with a frill to it. A gold watch-chain, and seals, depended from his fob. He carried his black kid gloves in his hands, and not ON them; and as he spoke, thrust his wrists beneath his coat tails, with the air of a man who was in the habit of propounding some regular posers.

‘Pretty busy, eh?’ said the little man.

‘Oh, wery well, Sir,’ replied Sam, ‘we shan’t be bankrupts, and we shan’t make our fort’ns. We eats our biled mutton without capers, and don’t care for horse-radish ven ve can get beef.’

‘Ah,’ said the little man, ‘you’re a wag, ain’t you?’

‘My eldest brother was troubled with that complaint,’ said Sam; ‘it may be catching—I used to sleep with him.’

‘This is a curious old house of yours,’ said the little man, looking round him.

‘If you’d sent word you was a-coming, we’d ha’ had it repaired;’ replied the imperturbable Sam.

The little man seemed rather baffled by these several repulses, and a short consultation took place between him and the two plump gentlemen. At its conclusion, the little man took a pinch of snuff from an oblong silver box, and was apparently on the point of renewing the conversation, when one of the plump gentlemen, who in addition to a benevolent countenance, possessed a pair of spectacles, and a pair of black gaiters, interfered—

‘The fact of the matter is,’ said the benevolent gentleman, ‘that my friend here (pointing to the other plump gentleman) will give you half a guinea, if you’ll answer one or two—’

‘Now, my dear sir—my dear Sir,’ said the little man, ‘pray, allow me—my dear Sir, the very first principle to be observed in these cases, is this: if you place the matter in the hands of a professional man, you must in no way interfere in the progress of the business; you must repose implicit confidence in him. Really, Mr.—’ He turned to the other plump gentleman, and said, ‘I forget your friend’s name.’

‘Pickwick,’ said Mr. Wardle, for it was no other than that jolly personage.

‘Ah, Pickwick—really Mr. Pickwick, my dear Sir, excuse me—I shall be happy to receive any private suggestions of yours, as AMICUS CURIAE, but you must see the impropriety of your interfering with my conduct in this case, with such an AD CAPTANDUM argument as the offer of half a guinea. Really, my dear Sir, really;’ and the little man took an argumentative pinch of snuff, and looked very profound.

‘My only wish, Sir,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘was to bring this very unpleasant matter to as speedy a close as possible.’

‘Quite right—quite right,’ said the little man.

‘With which view,’ continued Mr. Pickwick, ‘I made use of the argument which my experience of men has taught me is the most likely to succeed in any case.’

‘Ay, ay,’ said the little man, ‘very good, very good, indeed; but you should have suggested it to me. My dear sir, I’m quite certain you cannot be ignorant of the extent of confidence which must be placed in professional men. If any authority can be necessary on such a point, my dear sir, let me refer you to the well-known case in Barnwell and—’

‘Never mind George Barnwell,’ interrupted Sam, who had remained a wondering listener during this short colloquy; ‘everybody knows what sort of a case his was, tho’ it’s always been my opinion, mind you, that the young ‘ooman deserved scragging a precious sight more than he did. Hows’ever, that’s neither here nor there. You want me to accept of half a guinea. Wery well, I’m agreeable: I can’t say no fairer than that, can I, sir?’ (Mr. Pickwick smiled.) Then the next question is, what the devil do you want with me, as the man said, wen he see the ghost?’

‘We want to know—’ said Mr. Wardle.

[Sancho]

Sounds like great fun, Danik. I’m gonna have to read it now. Also I kinda feel like I should read Thomas Malory’s Le Morte d’Arthur. I’ve read a few stories in it but haven’t read it cover to cover. Right now I’ve switched genres and I’m reading The Long Way To A Small, Angry Planet, by Becky Chambers. So far it’s been grand.