Spain Under the Hapsburgs
From the beginning we established a few simple rules to facilitate participation: That we meet at a set time each week, for no more than one hour; that we start at the established time (most of the time, anyway!), regardless of how many were present; and that we finish at the agreed time. This way, everyone could schedule to participate in the readings, without worrying about disrupting their work or other activity. One other rule was that we go around the circle, and everyone gets to read aloud.
Although it has been over two years, and we are only halfway though the book, it has been so much fun, that no one has been in any particular hurry to finish. "Are you kidding? This is the highlight of my week! This is what I look forward to," commented a member of the group once. What better testimony to the power of the book, than the fact that it has held the attention of the diverse composition of our reading circle for so long?
Our group includes (or has included at different times) Hispanic migrant farm workers, with little formal education; native Spanish-speaking elementary-school pupils; high-school or college-educated native Spanish-speakers; and high-school or college-educated Americans, whose command of Spanish ranges from rudimentary to near-native ability. And, although not everyone (how could we?) gets exactly the same things from the book, every one of us enjoys coming together for one hour each week, each taking his turn to read a portion aloud, while the group's leader—sometimes this author, sometimes someone else—who has taken the time to research the chapter beforehand, provides the definition for terms that may be unfamiliar (not as many as one may think, as Cervantes' Spanish is remarkably modern), or explains literary, historic, or popular allusions, and such.
The one thing we try to avoid is "explaining" what Cervantes "meant to say," as we have learned that there are layers and layers of meaning hidden in the ambiguities of Don Quixote, that are uncovered as if peeling an onion, as LaRouche would say.
Take this example from Part I, Chapter 9:
This thought made me confused and eager to learn the true and authentic story of the life and marvels of our famous Spaniard, Don Quixote de La Mancha, light and mirror of Manchegan chivalry, and the first in our age and these calamitous times to assume the toil and exercise of knightly arms, to redress wrongs, to succor widows, to protect damsels such as those that go, with their whips and palfreys and with their virginity on their backs, from mount to mount and from vale to vale; and were it not that some ne'er-do-well, or some base fellow with his axe and steel cap, or some enormous giant forced himself upon them, there were damsels in the days of yore, that in eighty years of life, having not once in all of them slept under one roof, went to their graves with their virginity as intact as that of the mothers that bore them.4
Some of these ambiguities—such as the Rabelaisian,5 "with their virginity on their backs, from mount to mount and from vale to vale"—virtually leap at any individual reading the book.
However, we have found that additional insight is gained from reading aloud, and from the discussion process that takes place in a group. This is no accident, because Cervantes designed the book to be read aloud—a necessity at the time, since it is estimated that as few as one percent of Spain's population could read and write, and the situation was not much better elsewhere in Europe.
So, throughout Part I of Don Quixote, Cervantes describes groups of shepherds in the fields, or travellers coming together at an inn, to hear someone read some book or other. And then, in Part II, Cervantes has people come together to discuss Part I of Don Quixote!
Two examples of things we understood better as a result of working together, come from Chapter 52, the last chapter of Part I, entitled "Of the quarrel that Don Quixote had with the goatherd, together with the rare adventure of the penitents, which with an expenditure of sweat he brought to a happy conclusion".6
The first, is Sancho Panza's reaction to seeing his master lying on the ground, after having been beaten by a group of religous penitents, whom Don Quixote had attacked, believing them to be kidnappers.
Fortune, however, arranged the matter better than than they expected, for all Sancho did was to fling himself on his master's body, raising over him the most doleful and laughable lamentation that ever was heard, for he believed he was dead. The curate was known to another curate who walked in the procession, and their recognition of one another set at rest the apprehensions of both parties; the first then told the other in two words who Don Quixote was, and he and the whole troop of penitents went to see if the poor gentleman was dead, and heard Sancho Panza saying with tears in his eyes, "Oh flower of chivalry, that with one blow of a stick has ended the course of thy well-spent life! Oh pride of thy race, honour and glory of all La Mancha, nay, of all the world, that for want of thee will be full of evil-doers, no longer in fear of punishment for their misdeeds! Oh thou, generous above all the Alexanders, since for only eight months of service thou has hast given me the best island the sea girds or surrounds! Humble with the proud, haughty with the humble, encounterer of dangers, endurer of outrages, enamoured without reason, imitator of the good, scourge of the wicked, enemy of the mean, in short, knight-errant, which is all that can be said!"
Sancho's speech is funny, particularly the part where he describes Don Quixote as "humble with the proud, haughty with the humble," which seems at first glance to be an example of Sancho's well-known proclivity to mangle the language.
But, is it?
While this author could by no means be classed as an expert on Cervantes, I had previously read Don Quixote on my own several times. However, I—and others in the group who had read the book before—had missed the real joke in our prior readings, which only came out in the group's deliberative process: namely, that Sancho is not misspeaking; his description of the Don's behavior as "humble with the proud, haughty with the humble," is absolutely true!
This is shown earlier, in Chapter 33, "In which is related the novel of 'The Ill-advised Curiosity,' "7 the only instance in Part I where anyone calls on Don Quixote to exercise his calling to knight-errantry.
But while he was questioning him they heard a loud outcry at the gate of the inn, the cause of which was that two of the guests who had passed the night there, seeing everybody busy about finding out what it was the four men wanted, had conceived the idea of going off without paying what they owed; but the landlord, who minded his own affairs more than other people's, caught them going out of the gates and demanded his reckoning, abusing them for their dishonesty with such language that he drove them to reply with their fists, and so they began to lay on him in such a style that the poor man was forced to cry out, and call for help. The landlady and her daughter could see no one more free to give aid that Don Quixote, and to him the daughter said, "Sir knight, by the virtue God has given you, help my poor father, for two wicked men are beating him to a mummy."
To which Don Quixote very deliberately and phlegmatically replied, "Fair damsel, at the present moment your request is inopportune, for I am debarred from involving myself in any adventure until I have brought to a happy conclusion one to which my word had pledged me; but that which I can do for you is what I will now mention: run and tell your father to stand his ground as well as he can in this battle, and on no account to allow himself to be vanquished, while I go and request permission of the Princess Micomicona to enable me to succour him in his distress, if she grants it, rest assured I will relieve him from it."
"Sinner that I am," exclaimed Maritornes who stood by; "before you have got your permission my master will be in the other world."
"Give me leave, Señora, to obtain the permission I speak of," returned Don Quixote; "and if I get it, it will matter very little if he is in the other world; for I will rescue him thence in spite of all the same world can do; or at any rate I will give him such a revenge over those who shall have sent him there, that you will be more than moderately satisfied"; and without saying anything more he went
to get the permission. Having obtained it, Don Quixote,
bracing his buckler on his arm and drawing his sword, hastened to the inn-gate, where the two guest were still handling the landlord roughly; but as soon as he reached the spot he stopped short and stood still, though Maritornes and the landlady asked him why he hesitated to help their master and husband.
"I hesitate," said Don Quixote, "because it is not lawful for me to draw sword against persons of squirely condition; but call my squire Sancho to me; for this defense and vengeance are his affair and business."
Confronting Spanish Society
In the second example from Chapter 52 of Part I, Cervantes confronts the superstitions, false sense of honor, and other flaws of Sixteenth- and Seventeenth-century Spain, with the gentle irony that characterizes him, to even more devastating effect.
This is the fight with the penitents, which immediately precedes the scene with Sancho described above, as related in the translation by J. M. Cohen.8
The goatherd, who was now tired of pummeling and being pummeled, let him go at once; and Don Quixote stood up, turning his face in the direction of the sound, and suddenly saw a number of men dressed in white after the fashion of penitents, descending a little hill.
The fact was that in that year the clouds had denied the earth their moisture, and in all the villages of that district they were making processions, rogations, and penances, to pray God to vouchsafe His mercy and send them rain. And to this end the people of a village close by were coming in procession to a holy shrine which stood on a hill besides this valley. At the sight of the strange dress of these penitents Don Quixote failed to call to mind the many times he must have seen the like before, but imagined that this was material of adventure, and that it concerned him alone, as a knight-errant, to engage in it. And he was confirmed in this idea by mistaking an image they were carrying, swathed in mourning, for some noble lady whom these villainous and unmannerly scoundrels were forcibly abducting. Now, scarcely had this thought come into his head, than he ran very quickly up to Rocinante, who was grazing nearby and, taking off the bridle and shield which hung from the pommel, he had him bitted in a second. Then, calling to Sancho for his sword, he mounted and, bracing on his shield, cried in a loud voice to everyone present:
"Now, valiant company, you will see how important it is to have knights in the world, who profess the order of knight errantry. Now, I say, you will see, by the freeing of this good lady who is being borne off captive, what value should be set on knight-errantry."
Sancho attempts to hold him back:
"Where are you going, Don Quixote? What demons have you in your heart to incite you to assault our Catholic faith? Devil take me! Look, it's a procession of penitents, and that lady that they're carrying upon the bier is the most blessed image of the spotless Virgin. Look out, sir, what you're doing, for this time you've made a real mistake."
Ignoring Sancho's protestations, Don Quixote approaches the procession:
"You who, perhaps because you are evil, keep your face covered, stop and listen to what I am going to say to you."
The first to stop were the men carrying the image, and one of the four priest who were chanting the litanies, observing Don Quixote's strange appearance, Rocinante's leanness, and other ludicrous details which he noted in our knight, answered him by saying:
"Worthy brother, if you wish to say anything to us, say it quickly, for these brethren of ours are lashing their flesh, and we cannot possibly stop to hear anything, unless it is so brief that you can say it in two words."
"I will say it in one," replied Don Quixote, "and it is this: Now, this very moment, you must set this beautiful lady free, for her mournful appearance and tears clearly show that you are carrying her off against her will, and that you have done her some notable wrong. I who was born to the world to redress such injuries, will not consent to your advancing one step further unless you give her the liberty she desires and deserves."
Of course, they do not "give her the liberty she desires and deserves." Rather, they laugh at the Don, provoking his anger; he draws his sword and attacks, and they respond by giving him a beating.
The whole scene is hilarious, and Don Quixote's confusing the penitents with kidnappers, brings to mind the famous incident where he confuses the windmills with giants. But, again, through the group's discussion process, another layer is uncovered. That is, that Don Quixote is correct in saying that those bearing the image, "who, perhaps because you are evil, keep your face covered," are "carrying her off against her will, and that you have done her some notable wrong," as "her mournful appearance and tears clearly show."
That this is, in fact, the case, becomes obvious when one correctly translates the term which most English versions render as "penitents," but which should be rendered as "flagellants." This is confirmed by the response Quixote gets from one of the priests, when he confronted the procession: "If you wish to say anything to us, say it quickly, for these brethren of ours are lashing their flesh." Thus, Don Quixote is not assaulting "our Catholic faith," as Sancho fears, but rather those—including the Inquisition-dominated Spanish Church—who are perverting it by engaging in sado-masochism in its name! That is, the Inquisition, which imposed dogma, thought control, instead of faith based on reason, has, indeed, "kidnapped Our Lady," and Don Quixote, whose madness frees him to see and say the truth, like the innocence of the child in the story "The Emperor's New Clothes," is pointing out the obvious. (This is made even more explicit in Part II, Chapter 9, where Cervantes has the Don say: "We have come up against the church, Sancho.")
In this, Cervantes was following the teachings of Desiderius Erasmus of Rotterdam, who, along with his allies and co-thinkers—including François Rabelais, Thomas More, and the Spanish humanists Luis Vives, Pedro de Lerma, the brothers Juan and Alfonso Valdez, and the scientist Miguel Servet (whom John Calvin burned at the stake for heresy)—sought to do away with feudalism, reforming the Church and ridding it of superstition and hidebound dogmatism, and thus staving off the twin evils of the Reformation and Counter-Reformation which, launched and controlled by Venice, bled Europe throughout the Sixteenth century, and even more so during the Thirty Years' War of the Seventeenth, until the Peace of Westphalia in 1648.
Cervantes was an Erasmian. His first mentor was the Spanish clergyman and educator Juan López de Hoyos, the leading translator of Erasmus during this era. In 1567, Cervantes was a student at the school run by López de Hoyos in Madrid, and it was López de Hoyos who first arranged to have the works of Cervantes (whom he called "my dearest and beloved disciple") published, in 1569. It was also de Hoyos who arranged for Cervantes to obtain a position in Italy, where he spent the next five years.
Paradoxes and Ambiguities
One of the secrets of Cervantes' greatness is his masterful use of what LaRouche describes as proper human communication: that which "is based on ironies, on paradoxes, on metaphors, on ambiguities. So that what you say has a double or triple meaning. Good punning—not stupid word-play punning, but really good punning—is an ambiguity. And what you're doing, is, by posing an ambiguity; you're saying, 'What I say to you is this,' but you're disturbing the person you're addressing, because you're raising an ambiguity. And they say, 'What do you really mean?' And you do the same thing. So, what you do by posing a paradox, you force the mind of the other person to go through the process of solving the paradox. And thus, you communicate a meaning which is not located in a literal reading of the word, as a succession of object references, but a hidden meaning, which the mind of the person on the other end of the conversation is capable of recognizing."9 Thus, adds LaRouche, "the important part of communication is the ability to create paradoxes in the mode of your utterance which force the mind of the hearer to go search for the meaning of your utterance beyond the literal domain of known perceptual, sense-perceptual objects."
2007-01-31 16:31:17
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answer #5
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answered by Carlene W 5
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