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The anti-hero: Don Quijote and the twentieth century

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The anti-hero: Don Quijote and the twentieth century

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Content THE ANTI-HERO: DON QUIJOTE AND THE TWENTIETH CENTURY by Rona Iva King A Dissertation Presented to the FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY (Comparative Literature) August 1975 Copyright by Rona Iva King 1975 Copyright RONA IVA 1975 © by KING UNIVERSITY O F S O U T H E R N C A L IFO R N IA T H E G RAD U A TE S C H O O L U N IV E R SIT Y PA R K L O S A N G E L E S, C A L IF O R N IA 9 0 0 0 7 P K IT) Co >76 K5H This dissertation, written by ............RONA..IVA.KING........... under the direction of h.ex... Dissertation Com mittee, and approved by all its members, has been presented to and accepted by The Graduate School, in partial fulfillment of requirements of the degree of D O C T O R OF P H I L O S O P H Y Dean /Q- DISSERTATION COMMITTEE Pjx. '^Cs^jusir ~ r — p ret/VO-. D .... .... Chairman ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Anyone who has written a dissertation is thoroughly aware of how many people and events have contributed to and been affected by the work. One is always indebted to the critics and researchers who came before, but those people who share the immediate pains and triumphs.of the critical process are equally important to the result. The existence of this dissertation is due in large part to the continuing encouragement and support of my good friends. First among these is Professor James Parr, whose confidence in my abilities was an inspiration to continue. He devoted many hours of debate to the development, clarifi cation, and ordering of my ideas. He provided intellectual stimulation and kept a constant watch for errors, both large and small. I am also very grateful to Professors Gibson Reaves and Rudolf Hirschmann. Their constructive criticism and warm personal friendship have been tremendously helpful to me. To Professor David Malone I owe a great deal, for, although he did not work with me on the dissertation, my very presence in graduate school was due to his efforts on my behalf. He has been a constant example of what a good teacher, careful critic, and generous mentor can be. In another, but equally important way, I am indebted to the many friends who have advised and encouraged me through many years of graduate school. I would especially like to thank Wayne Brady, Marilyn Baker, Judy Karfiol, and Judy Livingston-Aklonis. Although the genesis of a new idea is a community effort, growing out of the interaction of many minds, the expression of that idea is always individual. Hence, I thank the critics, teachers, and friends who have helped me develop my thesis, but wish to emphasize that all the errors it may still contain are the responsibility of myself alone. TABLE OF CONTENTS j Page ■ ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ......................................... ii Chapter I. ON THE NATURE OF THE ANTI-HERO............... L Introduction The Picaresque Tradition The Schlemiel The Bourgeoisie The Underground Man The Twentieth Century II. THE SATIRIC STRUCTURE OF DON QUIJQTE, PART I ....................................... 70 Intermediaries and Critics Don Quijote, Part I The Prologue The Structure The Arms Episodes The Love Episodes III. THE SATIRIC STRUCTURE OF DON QUIJQTE, PART I I ..........................................202 Another Kind of Satire The Structure Section One Section Two Section Three iv I Chapter Page j IV. DON QUIJOTE AND THE ANTI-HERO.................... 314 j BIBLIOGRAPHY .............................................. 328, i ! t v CHAPTER I ON THE NATURE OF THE ANTI-HERO Introduction For over 2,000 years the movement of Western litera ture, in its broadest outlines, has been from supernatural to natural values, from stylization to realism, from belief to disbelief. Religions and philosophies have failed men time and again. Despite occasional rallying movements back toward faith and dogma, the overall pattern of Western in tellectual history has moved, some would say downhill, toward the relativism and fragmentation of the twentieth century. In the search for that elusive value, truth, artists have rejected established literary conventions in order to reach a closer approximation of their vision of reality, only to have a later generation reject their solution as a cliche and move on to another approximation of truth. The process of search and rejection has accelerated through 1 2 modern history as movement supersedes movement, until in the twentieth century we have reached what are, thus far, the most extreme literary expressions of the artist's rejection of all previously accepted truths about art, man, and the universe— the plunge into absurdity. A corollary and parallel motion has occurred in the portrayal of the literary protagonist. Again, speaking only in terms of the broadest outline of Western literary his tory, we can trace a rough and twisting course from the sure values and preordained experiences of the great Greek heroes to the uncertainties and disillusionments of the miscella neous modern anti-heroes. The anti-hero is an accepted part of the twentieth-century literary milieu, having penetrated even into the popular genres of detective and science fic tion. Yet there is a great deal of disagreement about when, where, and how he appeared. As the name suggests, the fig ure represents the antithesis of some previous concept of the hero. Where, in all those generations of artists re jecting and building over previous literary concepts, did the anti-hero arise to join other anti-traditional literary ideas? Whereas the hero and his context have been very ably 3 handled by mythographers and( literary critics,1 the anti- hero has not received such extensive and detailed attention. For example, we may speculate that the anti-hero could be said to begin with the earliest development of a literary mode which cultivated a tradition of protagonists acting in opposition to previous norms of heroic behavior. The most obvious fictional mode satisfying this requirement would be the Spanish picaresque, yet most criticism of the anti-hero has focused so exclusively on the late nineteenth and twen tieth centuries that the average observer would simply assume him to be a uniquely modern phenomenon. A few critics have speculated in passing that the anti-hero might date back to Don Quijote, and some suggest origins in ancient 2 archetypal figures, but none, to my knowledge, has yet gone 1Some excellent treatments are Joseph Campbell,' s The Hero with 1,000 Faces (New York: Pantheon Books, 1949); Victor Brombert, ed., The Hero in Literature (Greenwich, Conn.: Fawcett Publications, 1969); and Lord Raglan, The Hero: A Study in Tradition, Myth, and Drama (193 6; rpt. London: Watts & Co., 1949). 2 Sean O'Faolain, The Vanishing Hero: Studies of Novel ists of the Twenties (London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1956); Carol Blum, "anti-hero" in Dictionary of World Literary Terms, rev. and enl., ed. Joseph T. Shipley (Boston: The Writer, 1970); Esther M. Jackson, "The Emergence of the Anti-Hero in the Contemporary Drama," Central States Speech Journal, 12 (Winter 1961), 92-99; Ihab H. Hassan, "The Anti-Hero in Modern British and American Fiction," Compara tive Literature: Proceedings of the Second Congress of the 4 about the task of analyzing such a major figure as Don Qui jote in detail in order to determine his relationship to the anti-hero. A more complete literature exists on the picaro as anti-hero, but unfortunately, it is relatively unknown to those outside Spanish literature. In order to deal with Don Quijote as an anti-hero, it seems necessary to review selectively several critics as a means of determining what literary typing has already been accomplished, and then reach a workable composite of the anti-hero. There is no claim that this survey of the International Comparative Literature Association (Chapel Hill: Univ. of North Carolina Press, 1959), I, 309-23; Raney Stanford, "The Return of a Trickster: When a Not-a- Hero Is a Hero," Journal of Popular Culture, 1 (1967), 228- 42; Max Oppenheimer, Jr., "The Treatment of the Anti-Hero in the Literary Epic," Modern Language Forum, 33 (1948), 1- 12. O'Faolain and Blum mention Don Quijote as their ear liest example of the anti-hero. Jackson tries hard, but unsuccessfully, to convince us that Euripidean tragedies present us with anti-heroes. Part of the problem is that she uses two standards— one for the Greeks and a different one for modern anti-heroes. Hassan is more successful in relating the modern anti-hero to both the archetypal scape goat and alazon figures. Stanford adds to alazon and scapegoat the primitive "shape-shifting 'trickster' heroes" such as Loki and Hermes (p. 228). Oppenheimer sees the anti-hero as spanning all of Western literature, but his conception of the anti-hero is so obviously incorrect as to make its application useless. He defines anti-heroes as "characters who, either directly or indirectly, oppose the action or mission of the main hero, thereby enhancing and setting off more strikingly the latter's heroic attributes" (p. 1). That is, Oppenheimer, like not a few other critics, has hopelessly confused the anti-hero with the antagonist or villain, a very different figure indeed. criticism is exhaustive, since commentary on the anti-hero is sprinkled in varying amounts through many works not spe cifically devoted to the subject. It is, however, a repre sentative selection of the major criticism on the anti-hero. The Picaresque Tradition The term "anti-hero" seems to have first appeared in literature in Dostoevsky’s Notes from Underground (1864). The protagonist of the work uses the term to describe him self. Several critics are therefore fond of designating this novel as the beginning of the literary tradition of the anti-hero. However, the fact that the anti-hero was not named until the nineteenth century does not preclude the possibility of his prior existence. Frequently, the naming of a phenomenon results in a clearer perception of its nature and more attention to its existence, thus encouraging the recognition of the phenomenon in previously unsuspected places. In the case of the anti-hero there exists, in fact, an entire tradition dating from the sixteenth century which is cited by some critics as the first major appearance of the anti-hero: the picaresque novel. 3 El Buscon, Pablos, was one such picaro. He sets out Quevedo [y Villegas, Francisco Gomez de], El Busc5n (Madrid: Ediciones de "La Lectura," 1927). as a youth seeking to improve himself by going to school, escaping his home where his father combines barbering with theft and his mother combines prostitution with the black arts. Pablos does well enough to become the servant- companion of one of the wealthy students. Together they suffer starvation at a boarding school and a scatological initiation at college. As a result of the indignities he suffers, Pablos decides to become a rogue among rogues. His quick wit makes him a great success at duping whomever he chooses. Eventually, however, he goes too far and is discharged by his master. He then takes to the highways, encountering and ridiculing people from several walks of life. He joins a group of beggar-thieves until they are arrested, then moves on to courting two wealthy girls for their money. His schoolmaster unmasks Pablos' motives in the nick of time, and the picaro is soundly beaten. When he returns to the highways he joins a troupe of actors and be comes a great stage success— until the director is arrested. Since at this time Pablos has acquired a bit of money, he decides to devote himself to pleasure, which includes courting a nun, cheating at cards, and finally participating in the murder of two members of the night watch. At this point Pablos decides to escape to the New World in the 7 company of a prostitute he has befriended, and promises a second volume of his exploits. In outline like this, the picaro sounds like a thor oughly unsavory character. However, his sharp wit and good humor, combined with the fact that he relates his own story, and therefore shows his failings in a sympathetic light, all contribute to moderate the reader's opinion of him. An earlier picaro, Lazarillo de Tormes, reveals an even more sympathetic character. The earliest appearance of the term "anti-hero" that I have been able to locate in critical literature is in the 1899 publication of Frank Wadleigh Chandler's Romances of 4 Roguery. The standard English translation of picaro is "rogue," in the sense of a trickster or a cheater. The relatively benevolent connotations of that choice of trans lation are not accidental. Critics, with the vigorous ex ception of Alexander Parker, agree that, on the whole, the picaro is a likable scoundrel whose native innocence retains the reader's sympathies throughout his escapades. He de scends from the primitive, popular trickster hero (e.g., Til Eulenspiegel), who, as Raney Stanford says, "survives 4(1899; rpt. New York: Burt Franklin, 1961). 8 by cunning, practical intelligence, and strategic cowardice" (p. 229). The picaro is normally an impoverished orphan who at best lives on the margins of the servant class, and is often compelled to survive by begging or theft, exactly like El Busc6n. Yet it is essential, as Chandler points out, that the reader accept the picaro's point of view and values against those of the society which ostracizes him, in order for the traditional satire of society to be successful. Hence the universal use of first-person narration to tie the reader to the picaro's perspective. Although the picaro is "reprehensible in every way, we do not reprehend him" {Chandler, p. 14)-. This is possible because the picaro is not really vicious. He is compelled as a victim of circum stances to bend moral laws. At the outset roguery must be distinguished from vil lainy. The latter is the creature of malice, if not of pathological conditions; its evil proceeds to extremes. The former is less vicious, it regards rascality with humor, or explains it as the result of social environ ment. Between the two no hard and fast line can be drawn . . . it hinges less upon the relative venality or atrocity of deed committed than upon the rascal's and the author's point of view.5 5Frank Wadleigh Chandler, The Literature of Roguery (1907; rpt. New York: Burt Franklin, 1958), I, 1-2. 9 And in the picaresque novel the author makes sure of the reader's sympathies by emphasis on humor and the basic need for survival. Chandler points out that it is also typical for the picaro to be a wanderer. His search for sustenance drives him from master to master, or from occupation to occupation as with El Buscdn, simultaneously providing the author with a large selection of human types as the victims of his satirical jibes. And, finally, the picaro is given neither to self- analysis nor to philosophical probing. Although he tells his own story, he emphasizes events rather than emotions or ideas. Life for him is a problem to avoid, not to solve. He is employed only in gathering data, brute sensations, common experiences, with which he does nothing. Should he think at all, the rogue would be a pessimist extend ing the sway of disengano [sic] (undeceit, unveiling), a word forever in the Spanish mouth, from events of life to their meaning. (Chandler, Romances of Roguery, pp. 50-51) The concept of desengano (disillusionment) which arises here in conjunction with the picaro will be of continuing importance to our description of the anti-hero and of Don Quijote. Therefore, it deserves some amplification at this point. Disillusionment, in its pessimistic, despairing 10 sense, is a term frequently applied to nineteenth- and twentieth-century anti-heroes, but the connotations of the word are quite different from those usually attributed to it by sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Spaniards. Otis H. Green, an authority on the Spanish Renaissance and Baroque, devotes an entire chapter in Spain and the 0 Western Tradition to the concept of desengaho in the writ ings of Gracicin, Quevedo, Calder6n, and Cervantes. Green concludes that its primary sense is a sort of wisdom sig nifying "a passing from ignorance to knowledge, an awakening from the falsity of one's dream" {p. 49). Baroque disillusionment has a profoundly religious basis, and implies a rejection of the worldly for the eter nal. When one wakes to "true awareness" (p. 44), one re jects the follies and masks of the world for higher, endur ing values. This produces an optimism based on a belief in life after death, as well as an "attitude of mental and emotional superiority" (p. 46). There is a secondary use of the word, which Green does not deal with directly, that is predominantly applicable to Quevedo, the author of El Buscdn. This secondary meaning is 6 Vol. IV (Madison, Milwaukee, and London: Univ. of Wisconsin Press, 1968). 11 much more closely related to our modern concept. In Que- vedo's satires of contemporary society, bitterness and des pair are expressed as part of the process of disillusionment with the things of the world. Thus, when the focus is limited to the worldly plane without reference to super natural values, even a believer such as Quevedo can express a pessimistic form of disillusionment. This is the form of disillusionment referred to by Chandler as a potential of picaresque characterization, were not the picaro so psycho logically shallow. In Romances of Roguery Chandler employs the term "anti- hero" to reflect the idea that the picaro opposes familiar characteristics of the literary hero. He is antithetical to the heroic tradition, a product of the picaresque author's recoil from the values and beliefs portrayed in epic, ro mance, and pastoral. The fantasy and exaggeration inherent ^ . N in those genres produced a strongly negative reaction in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and the picaro embodied the opposition of those who knew what life was like to those who dreamed of what it should be like. The rogue was popular less on his own account than as the antithesis to impossible, unfailingly virtuous heroes, between whose exploits and those of the folk of every day the incongruity had become more and more apparent. (pp. 36 8-69) 12 Later, in The Literature of Roguery, Chandler modified his concept of the anti-hero to include not only those char acters who oppose realism to fantasy, but also those who oppose villainy to goodness. So long as the conflict between good and evil is dealt with, so long art of necessity will employ the anti- hero as a foil to the hero. But where the former exists simply to be worsted by the latter he cannot be claimed for the literature of roguery. (pp. 4-5) However, to include the villain is to make the definition of the anti-hero so broad as to be meaningless. At this point the distinction between picaros and vil lains can be clarified by reference to Clarence Valentine Boyer1s The Villain as Hero in Elizabethan Tragedy. He states that when a character deliberately opposes moral law from wilfulness, and for the purpose of advancing his own interests, recognizing at the same time the sanction of the law he defies, we call him a villain.7 The picaro, by contrast, usually opposes moral law from necessity, not wilfulness, and for the purpose of advancing his own interests only to the extent necessary for survival at a modest level of comfort. In addition, and more impor tantly, the reader's perception of the seriousness of the 7(New York: E. P. Dutton, 1914), p. 6. 13 protagonist's law-breaking activities is carefully con trolled by the author. The degree of blame placed on the character determines whether he is considered a villain or picaro (or hero or anti-hero, for that matter). Chandler's work is generally regarded as basic for the Q study of the picaresque. It should also be regarded as important for the study of the anti-hero. One recent critic, Pedro Salinas, sees it in both these ways. In his Ensayos de literatura hisplnica he concludes that the picaro "era una contradiccidn deliberada del h^roe ... En suma: el 9 picaro es un caballero revesado." This places Salinas in agreement with Chandler's first definition of the picaro/ anti-hero. Salinas emphasizes more than Chandler, however, the revolutionary quality of the anti-hero. He calls it la heroificacidn literaria del picaro. Es la proclama- cidn de los derechos de un hombre cualquiera a ser h§roe literario, por muy bajo que haya nacido o est£ en la escala social. (pp. 72-73) 0 Ulrich Wicks cites the work of Chandler and of Fonger de Haan as the standards in the field in "Picaro, Pica resque: The Picaresque in Literary Scholarship," Genre, 5 (1972) , 153-92. 9 Ensayos de literatura hisplnica: Del "Cantar de mio Cid" a Garcia Lorca, edicion y pr6logo de Juan Marichal (Madrid: Aguilar, 1967) , pp. 70-71. 14 Unfortunately Salinas then proceeds to praise this broader application of the term "hero," rather than dealing with the ■unique nature of the anti-hero. It is morally satisfying that the lower classes have been accepted as literary pro tagonists, but that fact alone is not sufficient justifica tion for reducing "hero" to the functional level of "pro tagonist," when, thanks to such mythographers as Joseph Campbell, "hero" has regained a very precise meaning in anthropology and literature. Robert Alter is another scholar of the picaresque who supports and extends Chandler's work. He, like Chandler, uses "anti-hero" interchangeably with "picaro." . . . the picaro is by origin a deliberately deideal ized verson [sic] of the knight errant. One of the chief innovations of the picaresque narra tive was to make the narrated episodes pivot upon a "real" individual— real because he was an anti-heroic hero, a plebeian, a resourceful but limited human being who had to face the human problem of getting food in his stomach . . . 10 Note that at this point heroes are strongly associated with idealized, impossible characters. It is assumed that no human being can hope to achieve that heroic level of 10Rogue's Progress: Studies in the Picaresque Novel (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Univ. Press, 1964), pp. 77 and 31-32. 15 perfection; hence any character showing human qualities and failings would almost have to be called an anti-hero. This is a far cry from the conception of the hero in ancient Greece, where flaws (hamartia) were an integral, non demeaning element of the heroic character. This demon strates just how very exaggerated were the knights in chiv- alric romances, and how badly they needed balancing by the picaro and Don Quijote. The implications of Alter's atti tude reverberate too far in suggesting that nearly every literary protagonist since Lazarillo de Tormes has techni cally been an anti-hero. One of Alter's important extensions of the discussion of the picaresque anti-hero is to focus explicitly, although briefly, on his relationship with the twentieth-century anti-hero. The anti-hero . . . finds himself dropped into a world as stolidly indifferent to his own existence as any absurd universe faced by the protagonist of an existen tial novel. But is is obvious that the picaroon, un like the existentialist hero, is no philosophical prober: it never occurs to him to question the larger order of things. . . . the picaroon is not a rebel— either against society or against the traditional body of faith by which society explains the world order. . . . Indeed, his progress depends upon the stability of the social hier archy. (p. 5) This agrees with Chandler's assertion of the picaro's essen tial shallowness, and is a crucial distinction to which we 16 shall return. It is also important to note that the picaro is rejected by an indifferent society, whereas the modern anti-hero is frequently portrayed as himself rejecting the indifferent society. However, this should not imply that the picaro is passive, like many modern protagonists. On the contrary, he is almost constantly active on the only level of importance to him— the physical. The more typical characteristics Alter emphasizes about the picaro are his loneliness (more material than spiritual), his continual wandering, his lack of long-term goals, his position as a social outcast, his ability to manipulate people for his own benefit, and his self-reliance and ingenuity. In addition, Alter sees the world in which the picaro functions as deceptive and ruled by chance, yet there is a functioning social order which gives the appear ance of stability. "... the old social order is disin tegrating but it is still regarded as though it were contin uing undisturbed" (p. 66). The picaro has a pragmatic capacity to learn from ex perience, although without a corollary development as a character. This failure of psychological growth is a re sult of his lack of inner life combined with a spontaneous reaction to events. The authors of picaresque fiction, 17 Alter argues, in showing the picaros acting spontaneously, demonstrate that they perceive human nature as being rela tively decent, because the picaro, who operates by "natural instinct" (p. 95), has a certain amount of goodness of heart and a native sense of ethics. The society around him is corrupt and immoral, while the picaro remains relatively decent in his amorality. Stuart Miller also has some modern-sounding commentary in his study of The Picaresque Novel.11 Both Alter and Miller demonstrate some of the values and dangers inherent in applying modern perceptions of life and literature to earlier literary forms. Alter is very aware of his point of view and its influence. Miller, however, seems unconcerned that much of his commentary makes the picaresque novel sound like a twentieth-century phenomenon. Although he agrees with many standard elements of picaresque criticism, his new contribution raises some serious problems. Miller contends that in each of the three major compo nents of the picaresque— plot, character, and form— is 11(Cleveland: Press of Case Western Reserve Univ., 1967). I include Miller's work here even though he does not specifically consider the picaro as an anti-hero because his discussion implies an unspoken identification between the two in its frequent references to the modern world view. 18 reflected a chaotic universe, a "chaotic sense of life" (p. 133). He suggests, for example, that the twentieth cen tury is particularly disposed to appreciate the picaresque's episodic, rather than causal, plot because of our familiar ity with the metaphysical concepts of uncertainty, fragmen tation, and absurdity. This episodic plot "expressed an intuition that the world is without order, chaotic" (pp. 9- 10) . According to Miller, the characterization of the picaro contributes to the sense of disorder because there is no character development to give a sense of causal ordering. The picaro is Fortune's plaything and his personality is submerged beneath the masks necessary for responding to the rapid movement of Fortune's wheel. The picaresque character is not merely a rogue, and his chaos of personality is greater than any purely moral chaos. It reflects a total lack of structure in the world, not merely a lack of ethical or social structure. (p. 131) Miller's premises are shared by other critics, who also find chance, Fortune, and lack of character development in the picaresque novel; however, there are several reasons for suspecting that he has overextended his thesis. First, Miller minimizes the essential shallowness of the picaresque character and world view, so well depicted by Chandler and Alter, and with which Miller's assertions of deep philo sophical intuitions are incompatible. There is not enough inner psychological life developed in the picaro to estab lish that he has a sense of internal chaos. The picaro's occasional references to the wheel of Fortune with its un predictable ups and downs present a much less chaotic sense of life than that found in literature of the absurd, which does not go so far as to assert that there is any such thing as up or down. It is more easily believed that the picaro responds to ,the environment as given, satirizing and taking advantage of it whenever possible, but reacting in specific, pragmatic ways to particular situations. This is hardly the sign of one who is tormented by a sense of chaos. If the picaro's world and his perception of it led to a sense of ultimate chaos, he would more likely be paralyzed into inaction, as are many modern anti-heroes, than be continually trying to beat the system. Miller places too much reliance on his twentieth- century perception of the universe in his reading of the picaresque novel. His evidence is not convincing, and he loses sight of the essentially humorous and satirical focus of the genre in ascribing modern metaphysical sensibilities 20 12 to the narrative voice. As a final example of picaresque criticism, there is Alexander A. Parker's study, Literature and the Delinquent: The Picaresque Novel in Spain and Europe, 1599-1753.13 Par ker rejects most of the previous English language picaresque criticism for several reasons. First he takes issue with the translation of picaro as "rogue." I prefer the term "delinquent" as being the word that in current usage best expresses the pfcaro of Spanish seventeenth-century literature. By this I mean an offender against the moral and civil laws; not a vicious criminal such as a gangster or a murderer, but someone who is dishonorable and anti-social in a much less vio lent way. (p. 4) 12 Ulrich Wicks partially supports Miller's thesis by emphasizing chaos as the reigning element in the picaresque world in "The Nature of Picaresque Narrative: A Modal Approach," PMLA, 89 (March 1974), 240-49. Wicks defines "the essential picaresque situation" as "that of an unheroic protagonist, worse than we, caught up in a chaotic world, worse than ours, in which he is on an eternal journey of encounters that allow him to be alternately both victim of that world and its exploiter" (p. 242, his italics). The picaro's "essential characteristic is his inconstancy— of life roles, of self-identity— his own personality flux in the face of an inconstant world" (p. 245) . Wicks does not, however, ascribe to the picaro any thoughtful perception of this chaos in which he lives. Instead he states that "Picaresque fiction, because it does not give a structured vision of life, tends to be basically antiphilosophical and antithematic because it focuses on details, on surfaces, on fragments, and on discontinuous and fleeting experiences and reactions" (p. 246). 13 (Edinburgh: At the University Press, 1967). This is not far afield from Chandler's definition, but con- notatively it brings out one of Parker's main points of difference: that the true Spanish picaresque is essentially a product of Counter-Reformation morality, more devoted to moral seriousness than to comedy and satire. However, he admits that this perspective is not true of the genre as a whole. Parker also emphasizes the freedom of the picaro's position. He believes that it is brought out in the works more often for the purpose of condemning it as a road to corruption through the senses than for the purpose of de- pictiiig a pleasant and satisfying means of existence. Thus, it is no surprise to find that Parker also argues that human nature is portrayed as basically evil, with the authors working toward their protagonists' spiritual salvation. Yet, regarding this freedom, Parker also terms the picaro "an 'outsider' in our modern sense" because he "has to cut himself off from society while living within it" (p. 17). The reverse of this is frequently the case, for the picaro frequently begins his life as an outcast and works toward social advantages. But even when it is true that the picaro has wilfully cut himself off from society, it is limited to his ethical and physical position, but in no way refers to 22 a metaphysical stance that is found in modern anti-heroic literature of the "outsider." But it is not the purpose here to decide the critical debate on the nature of the picaresque, especially since much of the disagreement between Parker and others can be explained on the basis of the texts chosen for examples of the genre. The picaro is of interest only as he illuminates the nature of the anti-hero. Most of the critics label the picaro an anti-hero be cause of an historical reaction against the chivalric hero. Thus, the picaro is judged an anti-hero in regard to his provenance, but in terms of the picaresque tradition he is primarily still a picaro with special qualities not found in other anti-heroes. For these critics the term "anti-hero" becomes, then, only an adjective for the term "picaro." The special qualities of the anti-heroic picaro are his plebeian origins, his position outside the approved bounds of society without yet being a hardened criminal, his free dom relative to those locked into a social position, his spontaneous day-to-day existence, his continual battering by man and the environment, and, in the face of all this, his continued wit and resiliency (if not optimism). He may be temporarily beaten down, but the tone of the works seldom 23 hints of despair, which is markedly opposed to the tone of much modern anti-heroic fiction. Parker would have it that the picaro's world is con trolled by the dogma and seriousness of the Counter- Reformation, including a pervading consciousness of original sin and the coming judgment. Chandler and his heirs find the picaresque world view to be predominantly optimistic, present-oriented, and satiric. Alter's addition of the idea that the world is basi cally indifferent to the picaro points out another area of anti-heroic contrast with the traditional hero, who was the focus of his society's attention as well as its ideals. The picaro is deprived of his society's attention within the contexts of the early picaresque novels because he is nei ther aggressively virtuous like a knight nor evil enough to rank as a great villain or criminal. Yet, later in the tradition, in a work such as Jacob von Grimmelshausen's Adventures of Simplex Simplicissimus (1669), the picaro develops such a flamboyant style that the 14 world is no longer able to ignore him. In this case the picaro is reverting back to the popular trickster hero found 14 I refer especially to the Huntsman of Soest episode. 24 in earlier traditions. There is also a qualitative differ ence between the indifference of the world in picaresque literature and that in modern fiction because the picaro never accepts society's evaluation of him as insignificant. It is not unusual, by contrast, for many of the modern anti- heroes to feel themselves just as invisible as society in sists they are. The classic example would be Ralph Elli son's Invisible Man (1947). This necessarily brief survey of a few modern critics of picaresque fiction was included to demonstrate that one form of anti-hero has been around longer than many would have suspected. What the rest of Chapter I should show is that, actually, the picaro should be seen not only as the first major example of the anti-hero in literary history, but also as a subset of a broader, more inclusive category of anti-heroes. The Schlemiel The picaro has been traced, in one form or another, 15 .down to the twentieth-century novel. But there are other .veins of anti-heroic protagonists that deserve attention. Most modern anti-heroes are obviously composed of quite a 15 By Chandler, Alter, and Miller as discussed above. 25 different mixture of elements than that found in the pica resque protagonist. We shall look at three additional literary types as sources for character traits of the modern anti-hero: the schlemiel, the bourgeois hero, and the underground man. 16 In The Schlemiel as Modern Hero Ruth R. Wisse has made a thorough study of the Jewish tradition of the schle miel, and has found there many characteristics related to anti-heroism. The schlemiel arose as a folk character long before he appeared in written literature. His first appear ance cannot therefore be established, but Wisse believes that he developed into an archetypal Jewish figure rela- 17 tively early in Jewish lore. In written literature, by contrast, his first prominent appearance in a major language was in Adalbert von Chamisso's Peter Schlemihl (1813). A slightly earlier Yiddish work, Rabbi Nachman of Bratzlav's "A Story about a Clever Man and a Simple Man" (1805?), in troduced the schlemiel into written Jewish literature. Schlemiel literature is comedy which uses the figure of 16(Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1971). 17 The schlemiel in oral tradition "began as a typical prankster and wit in the Middle Ages" (p. 4). Cf. the Raney Stanford article mentioned in note 2 above. the fool to challenge the contemporary political, moral, and philosophic milieu. The typical schlemiel is a weak, inept, ridiculous fool, a failure at all he touches. He exists on the fringes of the lower class in poverty and ostracism. Unlike the picaro who, as a servant, can try to live a bet ter life in contact with the upper classes, and can travel to large and small communities expanding his horizons, the schlemiel has traditionally been tightly restricted to the Jewish ghettos and shtetls. He is normally the local laughingstock, and if he travels his contacts are severely restricted by anti-Semitic laws. It is just this outcast, victimized quality of Jewish life in diaspora that the schlemiel symbolizes so well. Ihab Hassan's comment about the modern anti-hero, who may be both victim and fool, suits the schlemiel equally well. . . . the victim-hero, in the primitive view which com bines and antecedes both comedy and tragedy, recalls the archetypal fool or alazon, a figure mocked, reviled, and crowned with thorns, on whose ritual banishment the wel fare of the community depended. (p. 317) As an outsider, the schlemiel is forced to make special psychological and philosophical adjustments in order to survive, and these come to stand archetypally for the tenu ous position of the Jew surrounded by a hostile foreign culture. 27 When the structure of civilization too heavily represses man's free instincts, foreclosing his desire for a satis factorily full life, the fool become a culture hero again in literature. His rebellion for various individual freedoms then becomes a necessary and healthy attack upon conventions, and the fool becomes again the scapegoat hero. {Stanford, p. 233) Yet the schlemiel has another function as well. He is a source of humor when his "strange" ideas do not adapt to the prevailing culture, and many schlemiel jokes are based on this conflict. Wisse gives this example: "On the bat tlefield [the schlemiel] cries: Stop shooting I Someone might, God forbid, lose an eye!" (p. 23). Here we have the paradox of a simpleton ironically reflecting the preferred, but not the dominant, moral code. "The subjects of the jokes are simpletons, provoking our recognition that in an insane world, the fool may be the only morally sane man" (p. 4). This sense of the elemental insanity of the real world strongly resembles many contemporary interpretations of existence. The use of irony by the creators of schlemiel jokes and narrators of schlemiel stories is a dominant element of the tradition. It is used to emphasize his inner spiritual strengths by contrast with his superficial physical and mental weaknesses. But even more than this, the "comedy is intended to persuade us that this weakness is strength" 28 (p. 2, ray emphasis). In the more modern schlemiel figures, the irony also functions within the character, who tends to be more consciously aware of the absurdity of maintaining a 18 moral standard, yet refuses to relinquish it. Thus the schlemiel, more closely than the picaro, approaches the full-fledged anti-hero by demonstrating the reverse of the heroic experience, which has always taught that visible strength leads to visible success. One of the primary causes for the development of this kind of a liter ary character was the experience of unpredictable, irra tional anti-Semitism, which would suddenly and arbitrarily short-circuit the most ordinary personal or community plans. Jews learned to live with uncertainty, and the schlemiel was the result. Wisse points out that The traditional Western protagonist is heroic insofar as he atteinpts to change reality. The schlemiel be comes a hero when real action is impossible and reaction remains the only way a man can define himself. (p. 39) Although he is the epitome of the "little man" in 18 Irony appearing within the character is a relatively modern development. The earlier schlemiels primarily func tion as naive reflections on the environment. Later, in such works as Isaac Bashevis Singer's "Gimpel the Fool" (trans. Saul Bellow, 1952), the "decision to remain gullible becomes ever more deliberate" (p. 61). The schlemiel "may be choosing to play the fool in order to retain his moral sanity in the face of universal cynicism" (p. 61). 29 social class, education, and economic status, the schlemiel obtains our admiration because he invariably embodies a strong moral integrity and reacts "against the evil sur rounding him" (p. 69) by pursuing personal goodness through faith, hope, and innocence. "... both possessions and reputation are freely sacrificed to protect the inner self alone" (p. 16). Wisse sees this inner strength emanating from unwavering self-acceptance in the case of a universe fraught with absurdity and an "irrational onslaught of events" (p. 13). When the schlemiel realizes that the cruelty and evil inherent in the rational world can lead only to despair, he rejects rationalism and places his hopes in an absurd world which may turn out more optimistically. In the process he is often cruelly taken advantage of. Thus, he seems a fool to others who do not care to pursue spiritual values. The reader is invited to entertain the paradoxical no tion that the absurd interpretation of experience may permit optimism, whereas a rational explanation will never lead beyond despair. The reaction against ration alism is, of course, one of the hallmarks of modern literature . . . (pp. 12-13) However, there is still a difference in the level of despair reached in the Jewish tradition as opposed to that reached by contemporary authors. As Wisse says, 30 The Yiddish schlemiel did not abandon faith in the Al mighty simply because he was confronted by proofs of God's perfidy. He learned to live suspended between belief and skepticism, perfectly and eternally balanced. (p. 90) It is precisely this desire to walk a tightrope between acceptance and rejection of a system that would explain existence, which separates the schlemiel from the many mod ern writers and protagonists who have stepped beyond the balance point into total rejection of rational explanations. In the course of this summary, three elements have appeared which relate the schlemiel to the twentieth- century anti-hero. First, the schlemiel is an outsider and victim cut off from his fellow man, both from other Jews and from the outside world. Second, he is a visible failure to those around him. Yet to the reader and author this particular kind of failure makes him worthy of respect and admiration, for, obviously, the author and perforce the reader do not accept the prevalent social values of the given culture. Third, the world view is that of an absurd, irrational cosmos, wherein man has no control over the sig nificant aspects of his life. However, the schlemiel also differs from the anti-hero in several ways. The schlemiel is normally a simpleton, personally incapable of prolonged despair, anguish, or 31 intellectual analysis/ in spite of the implications of his 19 situation. He also retains a firm sense of identity as a result of the guarding of his personal spiritual values. And he is a very comic figure as a fool, in spite of the serious meanings underlying the humorous tone. He relates somewhat differently to our previous anti- hero, the picaro. They share lower-class origins, a refusal to accept and live within the social values of the time (although for quite different reasons), and the resultant position of outsider. Both are also frequently made comic victims of their fellow men. Unlike the picaro, however, the schlemiel often suffers under severely reduced freedom. As a character, the fact that he is so tightly associated with a specific cultural context results in his literary flexibility being severely limited. This may explain why the schlemiel is not generally found outside the works of Jewish authors, although he has much to say to contemporary sentiments. He is again distinguished from the picaro because his surface of vulnerability and failure is belied by an 19 A noteworthy exception is the writing of Saul Bellow, and especially his novel Herzog, in which the title charac ter is both a schlemiel and an intellectual. 32 underlayer of strong moral fiber. The picaro is separated from society in part by the choice of which moral standard he accepts or rejects. He does not thereby demonstrate any unusual moral strengths/ and simultaneously endangers his call on the reader's (probably more conventional) sympa thies. The schlemiel, on the other hand, is certainly not an outsider because of low morals. In fact, it is actually the purity of his thoughts and acts which makes him ridicu lous in others' eyes. In contrast to the picaro, whose every action is directed toward material gain, the schlemiel freely sacrifices worldly things in order to preserve his inner integrity and self-acceptance. The picaro seldom has the occasion or insight to question his self-acceptance or his goals. An important difference in the narrative thrust of the two styles must also be brought out. The literature of the schlemiel, as may be surmised from the above, is philo sophically oriented, whereas the picaresque is event ori ented. This in itself makes the schlemiel a more modern figure than the picaro. His literature reflects with skep ticism on man's position in the universe. This is not extrinsic commentary later applied to the work, as is some times the case with picaresque fiction, but is an intrinsic 33 part of the narrator's and protagonist's musings. These musings, in fact, are where much of the irony of the schle miel ' s position is made evident. Finally, Ruth Wisse sees the schlemiel as lying some where between a hero and an anti-hero. The schlemiel is not a hero manqu£, but a challenge to the whole accepted notion of heroism. He responds not to the question of whether classical heroism is still possible, but of whether it was ever desirable. Ben Zoma says (Pirke avoth, IV, 1) "Who is mighty? He who subdues his urges." The schlemiel is mighty in that he subdues his urge to be a hero. (p. 39) The Bourgeoisie With the next type of anti-hero we move up from the lower classes into the solid ranks of the bourgeoisie. We earlier found an increase in depth in moving from the pi caro 's relatively superficial rebellion against a previous literary style and the current social norms to the schle miel 's increasingly deep metaphysical commitment to a prob ably futile battle against evil. In the next anti-hero, the schlemiel's skepticism is reduced to a confusion of goals, an uncertainty of means. The picaro had physical stamina, the schlemiel's was spiritual. But the bourgeois anti-hero often has neither. Raymond Giraua deals extensively with a figure he calls 34 the "unheroic hero," the bourgeois descendant of the Roman tic hero, in The Unheroic Hero in the Novels of Stendhal, 20 Balzac and Flaubert. We also enter an artistic realm complicated by the fast-changing social, political, and economic structure of the nineteenth century. These three novelists felt compelled to represent their age realisti cally, and yet were not at home in that age. All three were hostile toward the values and powers of the growing class of bourgeoisie created by the rise of industrialization and commerce. The fictional result is irony when the lives of bourgeois protagonists conflict with the relatively old- fashioned ideals of the novelists. And this conflict is often internalized in the protagonists who must compromise their personal ideals to achieve worldly success. Realism and the heroic ideal clashed bitterly in the late romantic novel, and a new type of hero emerged from the conflict. Too bourgeois to be heroic, too lonely and sensitive to be bourgeois, the contradictory un heroic hero is a tragic misfit in modern society. All the heroes of Stendhal, Balzac and Flaubert are not alike. They do not have to be. It is not individual character but a common situation that identifies the many appearances of this new bourgeois hero. If he is vigorous and determined, he may succeed, like Julien Sorel or Eugene de Rastignac, good men playing the game as they have learned it. Most nineteenth century heroes are made of weaker stuff, however, with less will power 20 (New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers Univ. Press, 1957). 35 than Sorel, and more sensitive than Rastignac. Their lives are a series of protests and minor compromises. (p. 185) Giraud refuses to group his unheroic hero with the anti-hero, but this is because he has a much too restric tive, and to my mind incorrect, conception of the anti-hero, whom he equates with the romantic villain-hero in this anal ogy: ", . .a great figure of evil, an anti-hero, like Gobseck or Vautrin" (p. 131). As will soon become evident, the characteristics of the unheroic hero actually fit very nicely into the concept of the anti-hero we have encountered thus far, that is, a protagonist who reacts against a heroic standard generally accepted by his culture (presently or formerly), and in so doing presents .an alternative, more individualistic standard for our respect or admiration. The picaro, schlemiel, and unheroic hero reflect a movement away from communal standards of conduct toward personal stand ards, a movement given a strong impetus by the Romantic rebel-hero, whose negative face is the nineteenth-century anti-hero. The unheroic hero discussed by Giraud reflects the ten sion present when the decision for individual standards over those of society is not yet completely resolved. Giraud speaks of two types of anti-heroes: those who make a firm 36 and conscious decision, either for their own values or for a betrayal of them, and those whose weak character precludes any conscious or firm decision. In the novels of Stendhal, Balzac, and Flaubert, the first type is represented by Sorel and Rastignac, the second by Fr£d4ric Moreau. In both cases, the theme Giraud emphasizes is compromise: the strong hypocritically stifle their personal values in order to triumph in business and society; the weak passively com promise their sentimental dreams with unaccomplished yearn ings for the same bourgeois values of money and position. It would be possible to have anti-heroes who merely mirror the unheroic nature of their age (a close approxima tion would be Balzac's C6sar Biroutteau), but that usually appears to be an uninteresting prospect in fiction. Most authors prefer a character whose ideals or goals create conflicts, lending drama and tension to their lives, and thus to the fiction. As difficult ideals or goals become essential to the nature of the anti-hero, so does their failure, and the disillusionment which is its product, be come an integral part of anti-heroism. For, in a relatively realistic, materialistic time, ideals are generally recog nized to be unrealizable. The strong unheroic hero represents a reverse of the 37 case of the schlemiel where visible failure indicated inward victory, because his visible success is coupled with a fail ure of conscience. But the weak unheroic hero is of more interest to Giraud, especially since he indicates a further evolution from the romantic individualist hero than do Sorel and Rastignac. Strength of character still harks back to older standards of heroism. Weakness, indecisiveness, pet tiness are the signs of the new age, according to Stendhal, Balzac, and Flaubert. And the age itself, imbued since 17 89 with bourgeois values, "passionless, hypocritical, morose and boring" (p. 92), precludes any attempt at heroism in the traditional manner. These authors "had the unhappy convic tion that the old aristocratic ideal of heroism was absurd in a predominantly bourgeois society" (Preface, n.p.). As Giraud points out, the authors tended to find the past age the period suitable to their ideals. Their pro tagonists are given similar aristocratic, romantic ideals and sensibilities in order to redeem them from total medioc rity, but then they are set in contemporary society and given the socioeconomic ambitions that the authors abhor. This inevitably creates an ambiguous feeling in the author for his character. He cannot fully admire and respect him, because he is tainted by bourgeois origins and values, nor 38 can he fully dislike him, because he holds ideals cherished by the author. The author's disillusionment with the cen tury is manifested in an ironic narrative distance from the protagonist. The weak protagonists differ greatly, but they hold in common these unheroic traits: a craving for money, status, and ease combined with an inability to work productively; a romantic sensibility (sometimes degenerating into senti mentality) negated by an inability to act passionately or decisively; and a general sense of solitude stemming from discontent with one's position and the times. Weakness of character was once blameworthy, but in the development of the anti-heroic tradition, it becomes justified by cultural, social, and philosophic circumstances. Although the nine teenth-century bourgeois had much more freedom to choose where and how he wished to live than did the picaro and schlemiel, failure to choose well and act heroically, or even to act at all, is not entirely the protagonist's fault. Similarly, in the schlemiel tradition and in twentieth- century anti-heroes, inaction comes to seem the only sen sible course, as the options for action grow increasingly absurd. Mario Praz's study of the bourgeois protagonist in 39 21 English fiction, The Hero in Eclipse in Victorian Fiction, complements Giraud's study of his French contemporaries. Praz thoroughly agrees with most nineteenth-century artists' assessment of their age as inimical to heroic sentiments and deeds because the nature of bourgeois, and especially Vic torian, existence was non-heroic. Domesticity and commer cial success were the favored virtues of the dominant class. Praz finds two different strains of anti-hero in this period— the criminal protagonist and the bourgeois protago nist, the latter arising partly as a reaction against the former. In England the criminal protagonist dates back to the sixteenth century, and his cousin, the picaro, enjoyed continuing popularity, but Praz credits a revival in the popularity of the criminal novel to influence of the Roman tic rebels. The term "Newgate Novels" was applied to certain novels written between 183 0 and 1840 with, as protagonist, a noble criminal endowed with generous and sympathetic qualities. Bulwer Lytton, in particular, . . . provided examples of this type of character, which descends in direct line from the Byronic hero and therefore consti tutes the final development in the transformation of the Montoni-Schedoni type . . . Byron had presented the Cor sair as a heroic ruffian with a thousand vices and one single virtue; it was Bulwer Lytton's task to multiply 21 Trans. Angus Davidson (New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 1956). 40 the virtues of the type, and to show his crimes in a light which did not preclude, but in fact invited the compassion of the reader. (p. 160) Although Newgate Novels were not the first to breed "ambiguity between virtue and vice" (p. 161), the Puritani cal impulse of the time was such that the bourgeoisie re acted violently against these novels, one fictional response being Dickens' Oliver Twist, and the Newgate Novels lasted only ten years. This type of literature points up the importance of the rhetorical devices used by the author to control the sympa thies of the reader. It is an element particularly impor tant to the development of the anti-hero, who often cannot rely on conventional virtues to arouse empathy in the reader. That which inspires sympathy is subject to the mores of the time, and reinterpretation can change hero (or anti-hero) to villain in a moment. Praz gives an example which illustrates this point nicely. In Thomas Love Pea cock's Maid Marian, Richard Coeur de Lion, traditionally a hero, is reinterpreted as an unsympathetic example of the might-makes-right school. Of the major Victorian novelists he considers, Praz points out Thackeray as a creator of particularly anti heroic characters. Regarding Thackeray he comments, with a 41 trace of distaste, The virtuous in his novels are intellectually inferior to the wicked, and all claim to superhuman or heroic qualities is excluded, even from virtue, to a point when the reader begins to wonder whether virtue and imbecil ity are not the same thing. (p. 213) The mediocrity so despised by the French realists is treated respectfully by Thackeray and many other Victorians, for whom even a hero is merely another bourgeois who shines out briefly '"in the presence of the great occasion1" (p. 224) . Praz cites the same social, economic, and political factors as causes for the rise of the non-hero or anti-hero as were found in Giraud"s analysis. The major distinction between their findings about nineteenth-century fiction rests on the fact that in England the authors were usually a comfortable part of the class they were describing and felt no resentment of their bourgeois origins, unlike the French. Thus, Victorian anti-heroes appear tamer, more likely to be satisfied to function, however unhappily, within the con fines of their station in life than their French counter parts . Fort Philip Manno is another critic of the nineteenth- century English anti-hero in his dissertation, "The Anti- Hero and the Anti-Heroic Mode: A Study in the Genesis and 42 22 Development of the Victorian Poetical Protagonist." In his introduction Manno dates the anti-hero from the late eighteenth century, finding in the melancholy mood of Roman ticism the ancestor of modern philosophical despair. Manno selects fitienne Pivert de Senancour's novel Obermann (1804) as an example of the early anti-hero in transition from the romantic hero. He lists Obermann1s anti-heroic traits as "psychic and physical_paralysis" (p. 166), loss of faith in God, man, institutions, and himself, alienation, sensitivity, intellectual inclinations, purpose lessness, and disillusionment. He finds causes for this negation of Romantic energy and aspiration in the French Revolution and resultant growth of democratic institutions, and in a loss of religious faith. Although Manno tends to emphasize the effects of religious skepticism where Giraud and Praz are more concerned with economic causes, the three critics are in essential agreement on the social and politi cal tenor of the time. Manno, however, leans toward the French strain of anti-hero, one with a more vehement rejec tion of the spirit of the age, and hence a more severe sense of disillusionment than Praz found in English fiction. This 22 (Univ. of Minnesota 1968) . 43 is suggested by the selection of a French work for his pro totype . Manno applies the standards he derives from Obermann to! ( the creations of the Victorian poets, and of Tennyson in I particular. He finds a series of failures in The Idylls of [ the King; the failure "of heroism, kingship, love, inno- [ cence, loyalty, faith, marriage, family, order" (p. 263). The poem thus portrays the loss of all traditional values in the face of "'the new dark ages'" (p. 263). Manno empha- I 'sizes the sense of the meaninglessness of life. "The bleak limage is that of a waste land deserted by God who has re- j 23 tired after his creation of the world" (p. 270). As a result of Tennyson's religious doubts and despair, fed by . new scientific theories, the poet is reduced to "a rejectionj of the possibility of the perfectibility of man" (p. 271). Manno finds this poem to be "the keystone of his last per- I I iod" (p. 264) . Manno's analysis helps fill in some areas of nineteenth-. century thought that were not confronted by Giraud and Praz.| I Many people of the time were buoyed up by scientific 23 However, the imagery is not nearly as bleak as in twentieth-century literature, where there is usually no hint that God ever existed to create the wasteland in the first place. 44 advances, and a strong movement of Victorian optimism rested on faith in progress and the perfectibility of man. How ever, as Manno demonstrates, the same science was capable of producing despair, which would only deepen when twentieth- century science extended the voids facing man. A major topic of the nineteenth century was the con flict between science and religion. The religious orthodoxy still had hope, tradition, and faith to sustain them. But this was at the expense of a total disregard for the evi dence emerging in biology, geology, and astronomy— evidence that man was not a subject of special creation, that the Bible's historical timetable was severely foreshortened, and that the sun was eventually going to die out, ending the supposed immortality of the human species. Metaphysical despair was abetted by the advancement of science, and in the rationally oriented world of the nineteenth century, the result was sometimes devastating. Manno admits that Tennyson did not entirely succumb to despair. It is perhaps prophetic that the ideal which Tennyson salvages from his waste land is the "love of man" (p. 2 90), the one emotion that is not dependent upon sci ence, and the same answer reached by many twentieth-century writers at the end of similar searches for values of lasting 45 human significance. The Underground Man One of the historical developments in literature that has been taken for granted thus far in this study is the increasing psychological depth of character portrayal in fiction. One reason Lazarillo de Tormes and El Busc6n appear so primitive to modern readers is the almost total absence of any indication of their inner, mental life. The traditions of the picaresque and the schlemiel gain in depth as they are touched by other branches of fiction. The ex ploration of the psyches of characters which began in the eighteenth century was encouraged by the Romantic emphasis on sensibility. Abetted by the advent of the stream of consciousness technique and the theories of Freud, Romantic sensibility grew into twentieth-century self-analysis. Along the way, new problems were created for authors in maintaining empathy for anti-heroic protagonists who, in baring their souls, often revealed distasteful character traits, and simultaneously called into question their relia bility as narrators of their own experiences. Eventually the immersion in psychology created its own rebellion by the writers of the "anti-literature" of the nouveau roman, but in the meantime, the vast volume of psychological fiction 46 produced in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries accus tomed readers to feel somewhat estranged from event-oriented fiction like the picaresque. Not only do we tend to expect psychological depth, but we have also learned to correlate it with the nature of the anti-hero, especially when encour aged to take Dostoevsky's Underground Man as the anti-heroic prototype. However, psychological depth and its frequent companion, self-analysis, need not be mandatory attributes of the anti-hero, although it is most likely a great im provement. It is sufficient to be one who rejects the norms of one's time, for whatever reasons, and as a result becomes either a victim or a failure or both, as long as one retains the sympathy of one's audience while doing so. Even in such a comparatively recent novel as Madame Bovary, although the narrator shows great psychological perception, there is no attempt to impute the same depth to the anti-heroine. Thus, when we look at the Underground Man it is now possible to see him not as the first anti-hero, but as, perhaps, the first preeminently self-conscious anti-hero. The Underground Man also can be credited with having made the stipulation of failure an integral part of the anti-hero, although in the earliest anti-hero, the picaro, victimization by environment and fate serves equally well as 47 a source of alienation from the culture. In her disserta tion, Nadia M. Christensen selects the Underground Man as her anti-hero prototype, and his failure as the key charac teristic . 24 . . . he is a failure— not necessarily according to con ventional social standards of success (although this [is] often the case, too), but, more importantly, according to what might be called the standard of internal congru ence. For the anti-hero is a man racked by glaring dis crepancies— between action and intention, between reality and fantasy, between ability and desire. (pp. 6-7) Here we have the description of a bourgeois anti-hero like Julien Sorel, but one who has failed in so many more ways that he has lost control of his reactions, and can no longer battle society on his own terms. Conflict, being the opposite pole from the traditional heroic standard of self-assurance, is one of the ultimate anti-heroic qualities. One might see the history of the anti-hero as an increasing internalization of conflict be tween self and other, in which case the Underground Man represents the extreme development. In fact, there has actually been some retreat from the violence of his reaction to conflicts. Despair and anguish are usually displayed 24 "A Comparative Study of the Anti-Hero m Danish and American Fiction," Diss. Univ. of Washington 1971. 48 more quietly these days. In addition to failure, Christensen specifies such closely related qualities as alienation, ambivalence, escap ism, disillusionment, introspection, and frustration for the anti-hero. The Underground Man's ambivalence in his rela tionships with others is a major theme in the novel. It is not new to anti-heroism, having been clearly visible, for example, in Julien Sorel, but once again it is more striking here because of the violence with which the emotions tear at the protagonist. The Underground Man manifests another characteristic of which we have found earlier traces: the search for one's identity. The schlemiel found his in preserving his self- respect, the bourgeois anti-hero lost his amongst the skir mishes between conscience and prestige. The Underground Man is unique in that he fails so totally and resoundingly to create any cohesive identity or role for himself except as a negation. Previous anti-heroes had been able to find something positive or at least functional around which to shape their existence. The Underground Man finds only in finite spite at the core of his being. Christensen finds not even this, only a void at the center. In diagnosing the causes for the Underground Man's 49 anti-heroism, Christensen emphasizes almost exclusively his sensitivity: . . to be too conscious is an illness1" (p. 14). She neglects to bring in the prevailing social and philosophical influences, especially that of nihilism. It is as a result of the nihilistic beliefs that there is no God, no right, no supreme values, that man is reduced in many works of the time to a mere vicious presence, degraded by the loosing of his own lowest instincts. It is this in combination with sensibility which gives the Underground Man his striking nature. Moving forward to the twentieth-century anti-hero, Christensen sets out three criteria for identifying him: a search for identity, an "amorphous sense of guilt" (p. 21), and "a pervasive disillusionment— disillusionment with tra ditional values and with contemporary alternatives as well" (p. 23). The guilt arises because, although the anti-hero was imbued with the Judaeo-Christian ethic as a child, he has since rejected the ethic but is unable to free himself completely from its psychological influences. The search for identity and the disillusionment are familiar by now. Only a few of the many traumatic developments of this century are suggested as reasons for the prevalence of anti- heroes. In particular, Christensen is impressed with the 50 influence of Freudian psychology on the dissolution of moral standards, for if everything steins from the repression of the subconscious, how can anyone be asked to take responsi bility for his acts? However, this line of influence was rejected rather quickly by Existentialists, who have had a very strong influence on the development of the anti-hero later in the century. The other modern experience which is brought out is the number and frequency of wars in our time. War is signifi cant in a new way in the twentieth century because larger and larger numbers of participants and bystanders lose faith in the goals which it is supposed to accomplish. When abso lute values are rejected by a growing percentage of the populace, it is no longer possible to believe that anything useful will be achieved by imposing one form of government or one set of values instead of another. In addition, the human cost has been expressed much more sensitively in our times. The individual is no longer satisfied to be swal lowed up in the mass of a war machine to do his duty, and in this context the body counts stand out more clearly as unique human beings than as enemy dead. Other critics of the twentieth century give a much more comprehensive view of the philosophical, social, economic, 51 and scientific influences which shape the modern anti-hero. The Twentieth Century Twentieth-century anti-heroes look less unique after considering the growing tradition of anti-heroism which spawned them. The anti-hero takes on new dimensions, new emphases in the twentieth century, but these qualities are discernible in earlier anti-heroes of one sort or another. What is new in the twentieth century is the way that the anti-heroic protagonist totally dominates the literature. He is so omnipresent that the critics often forget his back ground in their preoccupation with the here and now of his presence in modern literature. When the critics do concern themselves with provenance, the results are determined by what the critic finds to be the dominant anti-heroic charac teristic. But, as we have seen, there are many varieties of anti-hero, all valid, all important, and all contributing to an anti-heroic archetype that may be extracted from their qualities. The fact that the qualities of the anti-hero cluster in different ways during different times, or receive special emphases with each individual author, should not obscure for us the view of a larger, comprehensive perspec tive on the anti-hero. The archetype we can construct at this point, drawing 52 from the picaro, schlemiel, bourgeois and Underground Man, would have seven mandatory features. He invariably reacts againsjt,„spme.thing, rejecting literary, social, religious, or ethical traditions. He displays undesirable or offensive character, traits, which are made acceptable by some compen- satijagy ,.j£aS|^ir. This factor, which usually involves some manipulation on the part of the narrator, results in the retention of the sympathies of the reader. He is drawn from the lower or middle.classes, thus obtaining no special privileges by virtue of birth or environment. He is dis illusioned with the values around,him, either in a super ficial way like the picaro, or in the more internalized fashion of later protagonists, which eventually is displayed in a disillusionment with the self. The disillusionment functions in conjunction with a strong sense ofisolation or alienation from the beliefs, institutions, and people surrounding him. And, finally, as a result of all these forces, the anti-hero is either a .fa,ilujce,,,pr victim, or both, in his own eyes or in the eyes of those around him. In addition, there are a number of optional attributes which the anti-hero may or may not display. His rejection of older beliefs or traditions may lead to a conviction that the universe is only a chaotic void, and that therefore 53 existence and effort are absurd. This feeling tends to appear in conjunction with qualities of passivity, weakness, ambivalence, and purposelessness. On the other hand, it is possible that the anti-hero recovers some scrap of faith to sustain him against the void, as did Tennyson in pinning his hopes on the love of man for man. He may be mediocre or talented, an intellectual or a fool, somber or humorous. He may feel a loss of identity in addition to a loss of faith. He may feel guilt or commitment. All of these elements enrich the image of the anti-hero, but are not essential to it. With this perspective in mind, we can now proceed to examine the opinions of several recent critics of the anti- hero to see what new emphases, new depths, and new insights they afford. In the 1950s droves of critics suddenly began to notice the anti-hero, but they did not always call him by that 25 name. Books like Colin Wilson's The Outsider and Sean O'Faolain's The Vanishing Hero describe a version of the anti-hero as he appeared in the fiction of the twenties, thirties, and forties. At this point the critics seemed to 25 (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1956). 54 feel that the anti-hero was an undesirable development in the history of literature. They spoke of him pejoratively, and, in the case of Wilson especially, found the only satis factory response to his presence to be a turning to relig ious affirmation in the face of the Outsider's expression of metaphysical doubt. Wilson describes him thus: . . . the Outsider is a man who cannot live in the com fortable, insulated world of the bourgeois, accepting what he sees and touches as reality. "He sees too deep and too much," and what he sees is essentially chaos. . . . truth must be told, chaos must be faced. (p. 15) Sean O'Faolain's description is more elaborate, and demon strates a more thorough understanding of the multiple nature of the anti-hero. This personage is not a social creation. He is his own creation, that is, the author's personal creation. He is a much less neat and tidy concept, since he is always presented as groping, puzzled, cross, mocking, frus trated and isolated, manfully or blunderingly trying to establish his own personal, supra-social codes. He is sometimes ridiculous through lack of perspicacity, accentuated by a foolhardy if attractive personal cour age. He is sometimes intelligent, in the manner of Julien Sorel or Stephen Dedalus. Whatever he is, weak or brave, brainy or bewildered, his one abiding charac teristic is that, like his author-creator, he is never able to see any Pattern in life and rarely its Destina tion. (pp. 16-17) What these writers are really displeased with, when they criticize the anti-hero, is as much the modern world view as the figure who manifests it. Later critics have learned 55 to live with it, and even to like it, probably as a result of a rather thorough and entertaining indoctrination over a period of years by some extremely competent artists, who have brought across to scholars and to the public at large, through their characters' despair and suffering, some of the most difficult ideas modern man has yet had to accept about himself, his environment, and his universe. Darwin was a comparative amateur in creating metaphysical crises when one considers the effect such pioneers as Freud, Einstein, and Heisenberg have had on the modern psyche. In 1958 the trickle of articles on this "modern" pro- 26 tagonist turned into a deluge. The critics chose several different aspects of the anti-hero for their focus: his search for identity, his response to absurdity, his Existen tial commitment, his alienation, etc. As a result, the issues grew perhaps unnecessarily complex. With the passage of time, certain items have proven to be particularly valu able. Those are the ones we shall consider here. Charlotte K. Spivack has brought in the influence of 26 "Vom Ende der fiinfziger Jahre an ist in der Kritik ein standiges Interesse an den Romanhelden zu notieren" (Heiner Bus, "Die Figur des 'Helden' im modernen amerikani- schen Roman: ein Forschungsbericht," Jahrbuch fur Amerika- studien, 15 [1970], 208). In the abstract of his article Bus mentions 1958 specifically as the turning point. 56 modern scientific discoveries on man's self-perception in 27 "The Estranged Hero of Modern Literature." These figures are estranged because the scientific ex planation of the nature of the world offers them neither a home nor a definition. And as strangers they impro vise because the scientific explanation of reality offers neither precepts for action nor a basis for pre dictability. The metaphysics of science leaves man an undefined and unnecessary being free to ad lib the role of stranger on this admittedly alien stage we call the world. (p. 18) This sense of homelessness in an unfeeling universe, whose malignance is even more painful because it is unthinking, is very similar to the sensation experienced by the schlemiel, who in the context of ridicule from his neighbors and per secution from his society was left to develop a course of action alone and unaided. The modern anti-hero is even more estranged because he has lost even the very small amount of intuitive faith in doing good which sustained the schlemiel. The ultimate estrangement, however, means exile from the reality of one's self. Profounder than rejection by society or resignation from humanity or even victimiza tion by an arbitrary or malign universe, is the absence of selfhood. (p. 18) The theories which have reduced modern man to an "un necessary being" are Einstein's, Heisenberg's, and Planck's. 27North Dakota Quarterly, 29 (Winter 1961), 13-19. 57 Einstein's ideas have had the most exposure, to the extent that one novelist, Lawrence Durrell, even based a tetralogy, the Alexandria Quartet, on the four dimensions of space time. Spivack does not detail Einstein's ideas, of which the major point is that two observers on objects moving relative to each other, when observing a third object, will perceive the object differently. Because all points in the universe are in motion, and all time systems are therefore relative to each other, there is no reason for asserting that any- 28 one's perception of the universe is truer than any other's. The metaphysical implication of this is that all truths, all realities are relative to the observer. Writers have ex tended this to mean that there are no longer any absolutes in the universe upon which man can depend for security, values, or meaning. (However, this is an overextension of Einstein's theory, in which there is at least one absolute: the speed of light. The layman finds this small consola tion.) Spivack mentions some of the day-to-day influences of relativism. "It has made us anthropologically tolerant and religiously eclectic, qualified us all as art critics, 28 One of the better commentators on Einstein's theories is Henri Bergson in Puree et simultaneity (a propos de la theorie d’Einstein) (Paris: Librairie Felix Alcan, 1922). 58 and taught the academicians to grade on a curve" (p. 19). The Heisenberg Principle of Uncertainty, of which Spi vack merely says that it "is based on the apparently capri cious behavior of the movement of electrons" (p. 19), actu ally states that as you approach increased precision in measuring the speed of an electron, you sacrifice precision in measuring its location, and vice versa. In other words, there appears to be a limit beyond which we cannot determine the exact location of particles in space-time. Thus we cannot predict location or speed, and our repertoire of unknowables is expanded. (Scientists have never claimed that absolute precision of measurement was possible. Again, laymen find little consolation in this fact.) Spivack sug gests that this discovery allows us to place a "restored emphasis on free will" (p. 19). Also, "it not only refutes the determinism so rampant in the 19th century but it also abandons even casuality [sic] itself" (p. 19). The Quantum Theory, which was first proposed by Max Planck and later extended by Bohr, Einstein, and others, states that radiant energy is emitted or absorbed as dis crete particles called quanta. Although mass has been con sidered to occur in discrete particles (atoms) since the time of Lucretius, the discovery that energy is also 59 discontinuous, and later suggestions that time may also be granular, have greatly influenced our notion of reality. "Reality is no longer a stable concept, nor is existence a continuous linear movement. The quantum theory projects us into a world of shifting realities and of discontinuous existence" (p. 19). Spivack does not devote as much time as I would like to explaining the scientific bases for these philosophical developments. As I indicated in the reference to Einstein, the scientific theories usually suggest these philosophical interpretations, but do not prove them to be an accurate description of reality. For example, the Uncertainty Prin ciple may not disprove causality. Instead it may show that the observer, by the act of observing the electrons, has interfered with their motion, and thereby introduced the element of uncertainty into the measurements by his very presence. The interpretations Spivack uses are those most commonly accepted among philosophers of science, but to omit other, equally valid interpretations makes these appear to be absolute in their own right. If there is anything to learn from Einstein, Heisenberg, and Planck, it is that (ironically) even our philosophical interpretations of the scientists' descriptions of events cannot be absolute. 60 Nevertheless, when it comes to literature, ideas about science are derived from philosophers and popularizers, not from science itself, and it is the influence of these inter mediaries which Spivack accurately portrays as contributing to the modern sense of estrangement. As a result the modern anti-hero can only expose the philosophical voids in which he functions. . . . since the contemporary literacy hero cannot embody the nonexistent values of his time, he must expose the absence of them; since he cannot exemplify an accepted definition of human nature which in fact does not exist, he must betray the lack of one; since he cannot enact an assigned role in the world he must, without even hav ing been cast, improvise one. (p. 14) Wylie Sypher, like Spivack, emphasizes the qualities of estrangement and loss of self in the modern protagonist in 29 Loss of the Self m Modern Literature and Art. He traces two major lines of philosophical development. In the liber alism of Mill, the utilitarianism of Bentham, and the rise of democracy, he finds the source for the submersion of individuality in our culture under an anonymous blanket of numbers and statistics. When the collective good becomes the supreme value, as it has for some descendants of these thinkers, the individual rapidly diminishes in importance. 29 (New York: Vintage Books, 1962). 61 "It is sardonic that a liberalism sprung from the ideal of a free self should end by granting the self only a statisti cal existence" (p. 27) . The faceless "Masse Mensch" is the modern manifestation of the loss of the anthropocentric attitude, and in literature he appears as the ultimate descendant of Giraud's bourgeois protagonist— alienated, doubting, and without a secure sense of identity. Whereas the first sequence involves man in relation to the world and leads to invisibility, the second line of development involves man's internal relationships and leads to a sense of fragmentation. According to Bergson the self does endure, but any image of the self gives it a fixed contour that is only an artifact. . . . Since the self is an endless change of sensibility, the authentic selfhood can only be lived, not thought; our real existence must be sought in the shifting currents of our most immediate consciousness. (Sypher, p. 59) When Sypher combines the implications of Bergsonian psy chology with those derived from Einstein's Relativity and Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle, he concludes that chance and randomness are the real elements of the universe, and, by extension, of the personality. In that case, identity can never be determined with certainty. Such an ultimate fragmentation of the self as displayed in Nathalie Sar- raute's tropismes becomes a highly realistic representation 62 of the personality. The image of the anti-hero presented by Sypher is that of a person searching for some stable element in a person ality and a world which are composed of constantly shifting fragments/ where no judgments can be absolute, and where all persons are reduced to anonymous victims by a culture which thinks in terms of masses and statistics. Sypher mentions an ultimate development along these lines in the work of Beckett, whose characters are so shattered and anonymous that they hardly even exist. He implies that only by re sistance can man find meaning. In resisting the ordinary, the demeaning, the anonymous, and reaching out for an Exis tential commitment man creates a meaningful existence. This, of course, is an instance of the persistence of faith in the face of absurdity, and proves to be a relatively common attitude among modern critics. Thus Sypher leads us away from the hopelessness described by Spivack toward the more positive outlook of the Existentialists and human- . . 30 ists. 30 Some of the more interesting works which follow basically the same reasoning about the nature of the anti- hero are Harold Lubin, ed., Heroes and Anti-Heroes; A Reader in Depth (San Francisco: Chandler Publishing Co., 196 8); Charles I. Glicksberg, The Self in Modern Literature (University Park: Pennsylvania State Univ. Press, 1963); 63 Actually, it would be possible to subdivide the modern anti-hero according to how he responds to the scientific, political, social, and philosophical influences listed by Spivack, Sypher, and other critics. There are those who sink into inaction and despair, those who fight back, affirming the strength of the human spirit by creating their own values while still assuming a basic indifference of the universe, and those who revert to traditional forms of faith, usually refusing to accept the evidence of the sci ences. The third alternative does not concern us here, because any protagonist resulting from it would most likely also revert to older standards of heroism. The first path leads to literature of the absurd, the second to Existen tialism and affirmation of human values. Victor Brombert is another critic who pursues the Exis tential aspects of anti-heroism. In The Intellectual Hero: 31 Studies in the French Novel, 1880-1955 he emphasizes the Max Schulz, Black Humor Fiction of the Sixties; A Pluralis tic Definition of Man and His World (Athens: Ohio Univ. Press, 1973); Joseph Golden, "Heroes, Non-Heroes, Anti- Heroes," The Death of Tinker Bell: The American Theater in the Twentieth Century (Syracuse, N.Y.: Syracuse Univ. Press, 1967); and Ruby Cohn, "Four Stages of Absurdist Hero," Drama Survey, 4 (Winter 1965), 195-208. 31 (Philadelphia and New York: J. P. Lippmcott, 1960). 64 political and economic upheavals of the first half of the twentieth century, which had such a strong influence on the Existentialist writers, especially Sartre, de Beauvoir, and Malraux. These writers created protagonists who were concerned with the need for acting in the present, but were also often paralyzed into inaction by their continual soul-searching on the subjects of guilt, inadequacy, and commitment. This split within the self— an indecisiveness based on the con flicting urgency for active affirmation of human values versus the intellectual's sense of superfluity and futility — recalls on a deeper level the indecisiveness and inner conflicts of the nineteenth-century bourgeois protagonists. The man of sensibility has grown into the intellectual Existentialist, but is still tortured by the same sort of inner ambivalence. Here is Brombert's characterization of him: Obsessed by the suffering of others, convinced that man's salvation lies in solidarity, he is equally con vinced of the walled in nature of human consciousness and paralyzed by his very lucidity. Dreaming of his high social and spiritual mission, he knows his efforts doomed to defeat, yet blames himself for his own futil ity. Concerned with the regeneration of mankind, driven on by the urge to speak for and with others, he also flirts with catastrophe and secretly yearns for his own destruction. He is in fact the hero, the victim and the buffoon of a tortured era which has experienced 65 politics as tragedy, freedom as necessity, and where history has assumed the urgent voice of a fatum. (p. 19) Two courses are open to this type of protagonist. He may follow the course of Malraux's men of action, immersing himself in the revolutions and causes of the time, and re jecting uncommitted observation. This can lead to something approaching the old standards of active, aggressive heroism, but the processes are different. He begins from a negative position, and avoids personal glory in seeking to immerse himself in the mass of people for and with whom he strug gles . The other side of the Existentialist intellectual is closer to the nineteenth-century strain of anti-hero. An example is Sartre's Mathieu in Les Chemins de la liberte, of whom Brombert says, Mathieu's very ability to suffer seems atrophied by excessive lucidity. His irremediable inner discord, his tendency to self-torture and self-destruction, his sense of futility as he penetrates further and further into a blind alley where thought and action never join, make of Sartre's hero— despite dreams of freedom— the seeming prototype of the modern hero of inaction. (p. 215) R. W. B. Lewis follows the development of the strain of Existential activists in what he calls the next generation of writers— Camus, Moravia, Silone, Faulkner, Greene, 66 Malraux— in The Picaresque Saint: Representative Figures in 32 Contemporary Fiction. Leaving aside Lewis' extremely loose usage of the term "picaresque," his main point is that in reaction to the strong sense of death in the modern world, these authors have created protagonists who dedicate themselves to life. They transcend the "sense of nothing ness" (p. 27) by a "participation in the sufferings of man kind" (p. 32), which encompasses both the sins and the vir tues of life, but most especially the striving for communion with others. Lewis' treatment is interesting as a contrast because he treats these authors from a non-atheistic, non absurdist point of view. Marcus Klein, in After Alienation: American Novels in 33 Mid-Century, finds that in more recent literature aliena tion and commitment are less absolute polarities. On a day- to-day level the protagonists find themselves moving in both directions simultaneously, trying to preserve identity and a sense of community at the same time. 32 (Philadelphia: J. P. Lippincott, 1959). For a fur ther extension of Lewis' ideas see David G. Galloway, "Clown and Saint: The Hero in Current American Fiction," Critique, 7 (Spring-Summer 1965), 46-64. 33 (Cleveland and New York: World Publishing Co., 1962). 67 The hero begins in freedom of the self and discovers that he is isolated. The hero chooses community— ^he assumes racial obligations, or he declares himself a patriot, or he makes love— and he discovers that he has sacrificed his identity, and his adventures begin all over again. (p. 30) Ihab Hassan attempts to pull together most of the ele ments of the anti-hero in "The Anti-Hero in Modern British 34 and American Fiction." In the end, what distinguishes the anti-hero from the traditional protagonist is his lack of faith in effi cient action, or his defeat on terms not of his own choosing . . ., or his submission to outrage, failure, ridicule, and alienation, in fact to victimization, with conscious purpose or unwitting assent, all of which serve to throw him back on the shrunken resources of his own "unstable ego" while managing, somehow, to keep alive our ambivalent sympathies for his character or his misfortunes. For even when the character of the anti-hero is unappealing, even when his flabbiness or depravity seem revolting, his predicament is usually presented with such cogency that we exclaim, "There but for the grace of God go I." That is, we identify our selves with his situation more than with his character . . . When we do find the character of the anti-hero engaging we are prepared to overlook his ludicrous failure because it is usually redeemed by an adherence to values we honor . . . (p. 316; his emphasis) We may add to the list one optional quality which is often found in American writers, especially those with Jewish roots. That is the use of comedy as an adjunct to the 34 See also his brilliant, but occasionally inconsistent book Radical Innocence; The Contemporary American Novel (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton Univ. Press, 1961). 68 portrayal of the pathos of the anti-heroic situation. This is quite obviously a later development of the schlemiel tradition, and is discussed as such by both Leslie Fiedler 35 and Max Schulz. We have now come full circle from the set of attributes listed at the beginning of this section for an anti-heroic archetype to a nearly identical list of qualities for the twentieth-century anti-hero. As I suggested then, there have been no completely new developments in his nature, but rather extensions and enrichment of those which were to be found in earlier, more primitive forms of the anti-hero. The one case which departs furthest from the elements of the anti-hero archetype is also the one which many critics seem to consider to be closer to the hero than to the anti-hero— the Existentialist activist. For he does manifest many qualities which are almost indistinguishable from those of traditional heroism: commitment to life and to human val ues, courage in the face of danger, and faith in the effi cacy of action. Yet this figure still has to fall on the side of the anti-hero because of his rejection of super- 35 Leslie Fielder, Waiting for the End (New York: Stein and Day, 1954). For the full Max Schulz reference see note 30 above. 69 natural values and of the status quo, his ultimate sense of isolation, which is what drives him to seek community, and his ultimate powerlessness against the larger forces that surround him. Having established a composite figure which may stand for the anti-hero in all his many and varied manifestations, we may now proceed to examine Don Quijote in order to deter mine whether he fits in this characterization, as so many have asserted in passing. Simultaneously, this new per spective on a classic may help to illumine its value in modern times. CHAPTER II THE SATIRIC STRUCTURE OF DON QUIJOTE, PART I Intermediaries and Critics Before the nature of Don Quijote can be defined in terms of the archetype of the anti-hero, it is necessary to determine what type of character Don Quijote is and what function he serves within Cervantes' work. This may seem to be a rather straightforward procedure, but, given, the many conflicting critical responses to Don Quijote, it quickly grows into a complex business. The Don Quijote with whom many people are familiar bears little resemblance to the protagonist in Cervantes' text. He has been distorted and mythicized by more than three centuries of translators, adapters, simplifiers, and critics. This has been the fate of many of the greatest "classics," and should give us con cern for developing an awareness of how extensively our own perceptions may have been influenced, subtly or overtly, by 70 71 filters through which we have been exposed to the work. Lowry Nelson, Jr. states the case well in his "Intro duction" to Cervantes; A Collection of Critical Essays.1 . . . many people with a literary bent have read him (that is, the first part of Don Quijote) only in child hood and remain quite content ever after to draw upon their recollections of windmills and inns, fat peasants and village slatterns. This is not to say that such recollections are not valid evidence of an authentic literary experience, but they do run the risk of frag menting or trivializing or obstructing a mature reading of the work. Both ceremonial lip service and immature recollection tend to blunt the otherwise astonishing impact of the work itself. (p. 1) One of the first elements that a child would fail to recognize is irony, which requires for its full play the perceptions of a mature and even a sophisticated reader. Thus, it is not surprising that the heavy irony in Cervan tes' presentation of Don Quijote is lost on such readers, who leave the work with the firm conviction that the knight is the modern representation of an idealism to be fully admired, and with whom one identifies sympathetically in his difficulties. This reading is not restricted to children, as will become clear from the later discussion of critics, but its pervasiveness is worrisome precisely because, as Nelson points out, many people never bother to reread the 1(Englewood Cliffs, N.J.; Prentice-Hall, 1969). 72 book, or if they do they are usually limited in their per ceptions by the memory of their previous impressions. Several well-meaning souls have not been content to allow modern children to encounter Cervantes' text directly, although Sans6n Carrasco reports in Part II, Chapter 3 that contemporary readers found it plain and simple. We now have a variety of children's editions designed to simplify, to censor the scatological, and to skip over the "boring" parts. My own examination of several of these editions bears out everything Nelson said. The abridgments offered to children have ranged from the patronizing to the absurd. Three brief examples will suffice here. They are all older versions, which have by now influenced several generations of children. Their popularity is attested by their ready availability and the number of editions through which they have gone. The "classic" children's version of Don Quijote, which was recommended to me by the well-known children's librar- 2 lan, Frances Clarke Sayers, is Judge Parry's. The Judge retells the story using the Shelton translation, which is not among the more reliable English translations. The story 2 Don Quixote of the Mancha, retold by Judge Parry, illustrated by Walter Crane (New York: John Lane, 1900). 73 is given a fairy tale beginning: "Once upon a time ..." As one would expect, several elements are omitted: the evaluation of Don Quijote's library, the stories of "The Curious Impertinent" and of the Captive, and all references to Cide Hamete Benengeli. Part "II is completely omitted. The tone is highly sentimentalized, with an emphasis on a sympathetic evaluation of the knight. This perspective has, of course, been greatly facilitated by the removal of all ironic commentary. Dominick Daly produced another very popular version 3 using his own translation. He conveys his general attitude toward the work in the "Author's Note" [sic]. I have made this translation and abridgement partly as an exercise, and partiy because of the suspicion that no one ever does or can read the full "Don Quixote" throughout with enjoyment. It is not so much that it is a big book (for big books may sometimes be enjoyable), but that its bigness is largely due to numerous digres sions and side-stories having little or no connection with the main narrative, and possessing but slight interest for the casual reader. There may have been a time (but I doubt it) when those alien excursions had an interest for simple-minded folks, but it is certain that they are not now in harmony with popular literary taste anywhere; and no wonder, for they strike the reader of today as old-fashioned, mechanical, unnatural 3 Miguel de Cervantes, The Adventures of Don Quixote, trans. and abridged by Dominick Daly, illus. by Johannes Troyer (New York: Macmillan, 1957). The "Author's Note" ,is dated 1905 at London. 74 throughout, and in many parts not in accordance with modern ideas of decency and cleanliness. They deal with manners, sentiments, and circumstances long since out of date, and hardly realizable at present by any effort of the imagination. (p. v) , i i After that evaluation, Daly's subsequent comment to the I effect that the book still has its amusing moments seems j I quite overwhelmed. One wonders why people insist on being j i I the transmitters of works toward which they hold such nega- 1 i tive feelings. I I I Daly shares Judge Parry's fondness for the fairy tale ‘ opening, omits the same things the Judge did, and more , i (Cardenio and Dorotea), but does include Part II, although, j i ilike Part I, it is severely abridged. The third example is much more unacceptable than the I first two. Leighton Barret leaves in almost every episode | of Parts I and II in a very summarized form, but so many ! i details are changed, so many misinterpretations are given, J so many events are distorted that the nature of the work is 4 completely transformed. Don Quijote now wants to assist the fallen Biscayan; Sancho is the one who concocts the ! 4 The Adventures of Don Quixote de la Mancha, adapted from the Motteux translation of the text of Miguel de Cer vantes by Leighton Barret and illustrated with drawings by Warren Chappell (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1939). 75 Fierabras potion; Luscinda claims that Ferdinand was helping her search for Cardenio when they arrived at the inn, and the two reunited couples depart from the inn that night leaving the Barber and Curate to explain their sudden ab sence; while being carted home from the second sally Don Quijote keeps trying to escape; when Don Quijote comes upon the Duke and Duchess, they turn out to be none other than Dorotea and Ferdinand. There are more atrocities in this vein, but these are enough to demonstrate the level of re spect Barret has for the original text. Most of the changes seem designed to make Don Quijote more like a "normal" per son in his response to events. The question of the quality of the English translations 5 of Don Quijote has been very ably handled already. The 5 Perhaps the most useful analysis of the English trans lations of the Quijote is E. Allison Peers, "Cervantes en Inglaterra," Homenaje a Cervantes, ed. Francisco Scinchez- Castaher, Vol. II of Estudios Cervantinos (Valencia: Medi- terr^neo, 1950) , pp. 267-86. Other interesting studies are Edwin B. Knowles, "Cervantes and English Literature," Cer vantes Across the Centuries, ed. Angel Flores and M. J. Benardete (New York: Dryden Press, 1947), pp. 267-93; Carmine Linsalata, Smollett^s Hoax: 'Don Quijote1 in Eng lish (Stanford: Stanford Univ. Press, 1956); and F. Cor- dasco, "Smollett and the Translation of Don Quixote," Modern Language Quarterly, 13 (1952), 23-36. There has been an extended critical controversy over the contention that Smollett could not read Spanish and therefore hired out his translation to hacks. The relevant articles are listed in Donald M. Korte, An Annotated Bibliography of Smollett 76~ general consensus is that Shelton's has great style and the i flavor of the period but is frequently very inaccurate, j Jarvis' is plodding but reasonably good, Smollett's is a burlesque of Don Quijote, Ward's is a travesty, and others j I through the nineteenth century are flawed in various ways. j Most of the early translations are noteworthy for their pro-j i pensity to omit those passages which they found difficult to j handle. Of the three generally respected modern transla- | tions by J. M. Cohen, Walter Starkie, and Samuel Putnam, ! Cohen's is generally considered the best, and is the one I j 6 I have chosen to use. ! Scholarship: 1946-68 (Toronto: Univ. of Toronto Press, , 1969) . | I ^ j The Adventures of Don Quixote, trans. J. M. Cohen I (Baltimore: Penguin Books, 1950),* Don Quixote of la Mancha, ■ trans. Walter Starkie (New York: New American Library, 1957); The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote de la Mancha, ( trans. Samuel Putnam, 2 vols. (New York: Viking Press, 1949). I have not worked with the Starkie translation, but am quite familiar with Putnam's, and would like to give a 1 few examples of his errors, which may serve as a reminder that "modern” does not always equal "accurate" in transla tions. Putnam's errors are not frequent, but usually con spire to produce a more affectionate portrait of the knight. My Spanish text is Cervantes, El ingenioso hidalgo don Qui- , jote de la Mancha, novena edicidn, ed. Francisco Rodriguez | Marin, Clcisicos Castellanos, 8 vols. (1912; rpt. Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1967-69) . In Putnam's translation, "Ninerias" (I, 215) becomes "amiable weaknesses" (I, 70); "no es de poca honra" (I, 18) becomes "that is no great honor" (I, 14); "perdia el pobre caballero el juicio" (I, 54) is completely omitted; "Destas lUgrimas y determinacidn tan honrada de 77 The adapters and translators are not the only inter mediaries who have done a great disservice to Cervantes' text. Critics have also been known to overinterpret the work. Not surprisingly, the criticism of Don Quijote has varied with the changing literary styles. Several attempts have been made to catalogue the critical response, each one, of course, reflecting the critical bias of the writer. Edwin B. Knowles in "Cervantes and English Literature" finds that there have been four relatively distinct English inter pretations of the novel and its hero: that of the 17th century, which emphasized only the surface farce; that of the 18th century, which, while enjoying the comic values, chiefly esteemed the serious satire; that of the 19th century romantic period, which deprecated both the comedy and satire in order to exalt the deep spiritual implications; and that of the late 19th and 20th cen turies, which— most eclectic of all— embraces the ear lier views in a more just proportion and sees in the book an eternal human classic of a richly complex na ture. (p. 267) 7 Arthur Efron displays much less tolerance for English, Sancho Panza saca el autor desta historia que debia de ser bien nacido, y, por lo menos, cristiano viejo" (II, 149), is turned topsy turvy into "These tears and this noble resolve on the part of Sancho Panza are duly recorded by the author of the history, who must have been well bred and at the very least an old Christian" (I, 153). 7 "Satire Denied: A Critical History of English and American 'Don Quixote' Criticism," Diss. Univ. of Washington 1964. His conclusions are recapitulated in the first 78 American, and Spanish critical views. He identifies three critical stances: the idealists or Romantics, who find the knight and his ideals emerging triumphant despite the blows of reality; the "cautionary" critics, who find the more ordinary characters in the book to be the source of approved values, to which Don Quijote must be made to conform; and 8 the perspectivists, who, following Americo Castro, find an unresolved tension among several layers of reality in the work. Efron's own interpretation of Don Quijote is that Cervantes wrote "a satire of prestigious ideals" ("Satire Denied," p. 2), i.e., romantic love, war, and noblesse oblige. He concludes that all of the critics have, to vary ing degrees, misinterpreted the text because they were afraid to face the implications the satire held for their own value systems. 9 Oscar Mandel offers an even simpler classification. A "soft" school regards Don Quixote as the hero as well as the protagonist of the novel, and the world of wind mills and Yanguesans as the "villain" or, at any rate, chapter of his "Don Quixote" and the Dulcineated World (Austin: Univ. of Texas Press, 1971). g El pensamiento de Cervantes (Madrid: Libreria y Casa Editorial Hernando, 1925). 9 "The Function of the Norm in Don Quixote," Modern Philology, 55 (Feb. 1958), 154-63. i 79 i \ the butt of Cervantes' real satire. (p. 154) As for the opposing "hard" school, "Don Quixote remains for them, in spite of his nobility, the butt of the satire" (p. 155). Those who find Don Quijote neither the hero nor noble are not noticed by Mandel. Any of these systems are adequate to describe the his- j i tory of most Don Quijote criticism. The general consensus | t is that at the beginning of the nineteenth century a rever- ‘ i ! I ■sal of critical sensibility began when Romantic writers ! i i began to find Don Quijote more sad than funny, more a figure I t , t 'of tragedy than satire. The permutations on these general j principles have been endless. I feel it necessary to take issue with these classifi cations, however, regarding their evaluations of the cor- I rectness of earlier interpretations. My structural analysis' I will show that those pre-Romantic critics who emphasized the i book's satiric elements, however shallowly, were much closer to the real nature of the work than the post-Romantics, even! those of the "hard" school, who still insist on the admir- 1 able nobility of Don Quijote.'s character. Efron is overly 1 critical in insisting that the early critics did not see enough satire in the work; Mandel does not adequately deal with the satiric elements of the text; Knowles very 80 generously accepts any and all modern interpretations. I am supported in my interpretation by some very recent articles, which seem to signal a change in the direction of Quijote criticism. It is impossible to know just why these articles have suddenly begun to appear, although Efron's book may have had some influence. Two articles emphasize a reevaluation of the earlier attitudes toward the work, and two apply the principles of close textual analysis to se lected portions.10 Of particular interest here is P. E. Russell's "'Don Quijote' as a Funny Book." Russell finds that the early Spanish, French, and British reactions to Don Quijote indicate that most readers thought the knight an unlikable character, the book immensely funny, and the par ody of romances of chivalry very effective. In regard to later tendencies to sympathize with Don Quijote, Russell reminds us that in the Renaissance, A deviation from the natural order of things lay at the 10The two reevaluations are P. E. Russell, "'Don Qui jote' as a Funny Book," Modern Language Review, 64 (1969), 312-26, and Susan Staves, "Don Quixote in Eighteenth Century England," Comparative Literature, 24 (Summer 1972), 193-215. The two textual analyses are A. J. Close, "Don Quixote's Love for Dulcinea: A Study of Cervantine Irony," Bulletin of Hispanic Studies, 50 (July 1973) , 237-55, and Mary Mackey, "Rhetoric and Characterization in Don Quijote," Hispanic Review, 42 (Winter 1974) , 51-66. 81 root of the ridiculous. The deviation had to be of a kind that could not easily be eliminated though also, if it was to be laughable, it must be incapable of causing serious harm. It was on this basis that the age justified its view that insanity, provided it was not too violent, was funny. (pp. 320-21) The early readers found the knight to be, very simply, a ridiculous fool. The response of modern readers has been complicated by the Romantic heritage which disposes us auto matically, and often incorrectly, to associate madness with moral grandeur (e.g., Dostoevsky's The Idiot). This ten dency severely prejudices the chance of an objective en counter with the text on its own terms. As Russell points out, There is certainly no evidence in those chapters in Part II where the success of Part I is discussed to suggest that Cervantes thought his readers had mis understood him. (p. 319) Were it not enough of a critical problem to contend with the text itself and the intellectual attitudes of the early seventeenth century, the situation is complicated further by the enduring influence of a school of Spanish and Latin-American critics who have proudly proclaimed their conscious determination to disregard the mere text in favor of a larger, mythic conception of the protagonist. Miguel de Unamuno, the standard-bearer for these critics, went so 82 far in the "Prdlogo" to Vida de Don Quijote y Sancho as to assert that each reader of the book should and must "darle una interpretaci6n, por as! decirlo, mlstica, como las que a la Biblia suele darse."11 This perfervid book has fathered an incredible number of articles exhibiting almost religious zeal in their assertion of the near-divinity of Don Quijote. One example is Eduardo Mendoza Varela's "Mito y realidad de 12 Alonso Quijano," in which he attempts to create ex nihilo the complete personality and context of Alonso Quijano, whom we see only in the last chapter of Part II. Mendoza Varela thinks that if he can establish that Alonso el Bueno was a man of incomparable virtues, then by extension Don Quijote must also have been. The vocabulary of religious adulation permeates the article from the opening sentences. No podriamos describir aqui, con vanas .palabras, al 2nd ed., rev. (Madrid y Buenos Aires: Renacimiento, 1914), p. 6. E. R. Curtius offers a very balanced discus sion of Unamuno on Don Quijote in "Unamuno," Essays on Euro pean Literature, trans. Michael Kowal (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton Univ. Press, 1973), pp. 228-47. 12Espiral (Bogotci) , 4 (1951), 3-4, 8. Works in the same vein are Luis Rosales, "El sentido del heroismo quijo- tesco," Cuadernos Hispano-Americanos (Madrid), 34 (abril 1958), 39-74; Victor Garcia Hoz, "La vida heroica del hombre vulgar," Arbor (Madrid), 15 (1950), 305-22; and Alvaro Fernandez-Sucirez, Los mitos del Quijote (Madrid: Aguilar, 1953) . 83 hombre que tcinto conocemos, y de cuya historia, que amamos, hemos estado cerca en fecundas vigilias. Re fugio ha sido en nuestras horas de pena, cSlido compa- fiero en nuestra alegria, amigo fiel en el reposo. (p. 3) The reverential tone continues: Alonso y don Quijote, el uno y el otro, son uno mismo, nuevo misterio de divinidad, esta vez en la distinta y tinica realidad de dos personas. (p. 3) ... el caballero manchego tiene vida propia, indepen- diente del libro de Cervantes ... (p. 3) This insistence upon the independent life of a literary character who has supposedly broken free of his creator's control is really no compliment to the artistic skills of Cervantes, who becomes then "un mero aut6mata que registra las acciones de un hombre que 61 descubri6" (p. 8). It leads to the further critical error of believing that one can deduce the rest of a character's life from his actions in a book, and that this is a useful occupation. If Cer vantes had believed that a fuller knowledge of Alonso Qui jano could improve our comprehension of the nature of Don Quijote, the necessary information would have appeared in the text. Perhaps Mendoza Varela's article can be defended as providing an inspirational model comparable to those found in the lives of the saints, with whom he clearly equates the knight, but it cannot be defended as a 84 legitimate approach to a work of fiction. Bruce W. Wardropper, in "Don Quixote: Story or His tory?", offers an explanation for this mythification of the 13 knight. Wardropper believes that Cervantes employs sev eral devices to confuse the reader as to what is fiction and what is fact in the story. He concludes: In just such a destruction of the critical faculty, in just such a failure to discriminate between history and story, lies the cause of Don Quixote's madness. It is not so much the reading of too many books of chivalry that drives him mad; it is the misreading, the misin terpretation of them that causes his insanity. (p. 6) He adds that Cervantes, in seeking to undermine the reader's critical faculty, is carrying mimesis to its logical end; he is trying to make his reader participate in his hero's mad ness. (p. 6) This is a perfect diagnosis of the problem we encounter with Unamuno and Mendoza Varela. They are still trapped in the subjective impressions which they experienced on their first readings of the work, and which have colored every subse quent encounter. 13 Modern Philology, 63 (Aug. 1965), 1-11. For reasons which will become clear in my analysis, I agree with Ward ropper 's conclusions about critical identification with the knight, but not with his premise that Cervantes creates a confusion between fiction and history. 85 Anyone who has conducted a seminar on Don Quixote knows that intelligent students turn a little mad when they discuss this book. This mild form of insanity, one is tempted to think, is a part of the human condition. . . . the inability to distinguish the fictional from the real. (p. 6) As Wardropper's comments suggest, the primary ingred ient in the many misinterpretations of Don Quijote is the failure to achieve critical distance from the work. Unamuno and others, by refusing to deal with the knight in terms of the satirical context in which he is placed, have betrayed the spirit of the work while imitating the error of the protagonist. No critic has entirely denied that Don Quijote is a satire, or at least a partial parody. The question has always been the direction and intensity of the satire. A careful reading of the text will show that Don Quijote, Sancho, and many of the other characters are satirical constructs designed to parody the literary tradition of the romances (chivalric and pastoral), and to satirize certain elements of the society outside the text, most obviously the readers of the romances. In 370 years of criticism we have, in some cases, pro gressed no further than some of the first readers of the work, who completely confused Don Quijote with those works 86 14 it parodies by identifying it as a chivalric romance. It is certainly not too soon to begin applying the same criti cal standards to Don Quijote as are regularly applied to other works of prose fiction. Don Quijote, Part I15 Satire was originally a term for a loose medley of 14 "Commonly Cervantes' satire is linked with the books it satirized or distinguished from them only by being comic" (Knowles, p. 271). 15 Cervantes, El ingenioso hidalgo don Quijote de la Mancha, novena edici6n, ed. Francisco Rodriguez Marin. All volume and page references to Spanish citations will refer to this edition. For the convenience of those unfamiliar with Spanish, page references to the translation of J. M. Cohen (Penguin Books, 1950) will follow the Spanish refer ence. A sample citation would look like this: (II, 123; 148), where the last number refers to Cohen. In my discussion of Don Quijote, I shall be using three terms that are subject to confusion: satire, parody, and irony. I understand by the word satire a large and amorphous body of literature in both poetry and prose, which is designed to ridicule by a blend of humor and contempt some defined external object or idea. Parody is a subset of satire, being a special type, which is directed against a literary target and uses devices which simultaneously imi tate and ridicule that target. Irony is a device employed by satirists and other writers for specific purposes within their works. Irony usually has an identifiable victim, and in a satire that victim is often, but not always, identical with the object identified with the satiric target. For most purposes in the discussion of Don Quijote, the terms "satire" and "parody" will be interchangeable. The term "serious" will sometimes be used as a synonym for non-ironic. In those cases it is by no means meant to imply that the situation may not be humorous, even though it is not ironic. 87 verse and prose,16 and the genre is still capable of encom passing motley mixtures of events and ideas. In addition, it is intellectual by nature. This aspect is suggested by Northrop Frye's choice of "anatomy" for a label. "It is the anatomy in particular that has baffled critics, and there is hardly any fiction writer deeply influenced by it who has not been accused of disorderly conduct" (p. 313). In spite of its superficial appearance of disorganization, a well- wrought satire is built around a structural principle which gives it unity and coherence. It is the critic's duty to identify that focus toward which all of the elements, how ever disparate, contribute. Satire can be distinguished generically from two other forms of prose fiction, the apologue and the novel, accord ing to the guidelines suggested by Sheldon Sacks in Fiction 17 and the Shape of Belief. Let us assume tentatively that satires are works which ridicule particular men, institutions of men, traits presumed to be in all men, or in any combination of the three. But they do not do this incidentally; all their parts are designed to this end and, indeed, can only be 16Northrop Frye, Anatomy of Criticism: Four Essays (New York: Atheneum, 1967) , p. 309. 17 (1964; rpt. Berkeley and Los Angeles: Univ. of Cali fornia Press, 1967). 88 understood as parts of a whole to the extent that they contribute to such ridicule. In other words, this is the principle that actually informs the work. (p. 7) The informing principle of all [apologues] is that each is organized as a fictional example of the truth of a formulable statement or closely related set of such statements. (p. 8) . . . there is a third class of prose fiction, "repre sented action" [or novel], which is organized neither as satire nor apologue nor even as a complicated recon ciliation of the two. In any work which belongs to this class, characters about whose fates we are made to care are introduced in unstable relationships which are then further complicated until the complications are finally resolved by the complete removal of the represented instability. (p. 15) Each type of prose fiction reveals its internal coherence only when examined within the proper genre and tradition. If, for example, one reads a novel as though it were an apo logue, many of the elements will not appear to function properly. Apparent digressions and awkwardnesses usually cease to appear such when the work is returned to its proper niche. Satire and apologue are both essentially rhetorical in nature. They are designed to convey in fictional form an idea or set of ideas. In order to do so successfully, they must persuade the reader to accept the validity of their 18 assertions.-- They differ in that satire does this with an 18 These ideas are adapted from David Worcester, The Art admixture of humor, whereas apologue is always serious. Satire thrives on irony; apologue could be ruined by it. Satire is most useful for conveying what is wrong about a certain situation. It cannot successfully convey the au thor's opinion of the proper means of correcting the situa tion without undergoing a corresponding change of tone. Apologue is the genre which presents an assertion of belief. This primary distinction in tone is one reason Sacks insists that the three types of prose fiction are mutually exclu sive. It would be nice if this were really the case, but Don Quijote breaks this rule. Don Quijote is more than a satire. Part of its unique ness in the history of prose fiction stems from the auda cious blending of satire and apologue. Previous satirists were accustomed to inserting occasional moral tags into their streams of ridicule. In Don Quijote, however, these homiletic interruptions have grown into full-blown episodes which reiterate some of the major themes of the satire. This is, I believe, a source of much misunderstanding about the book, but is readily clarified through an analysis of 19 the structure. of Satire (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Univ. Press, 1940). 19Although I agree with Arthur Efron's assertion in 90 One such apologue is "El curioso impertinente." Many readers and editors have dismissed it as a digression, and it is often the first episode eliminated when the work is abridged. It is a stylistic digression while still con- f 20 tributing to the meaning of the work as a whole. Sheldon Sacks suggests the most fruitful critical attitude when faced with this problem. There is little point in defending as nondigressive the incidents which most of Fielding's readers react to as digressions. We serve Fielding's cause better by in vestigating the formal reasons for that reaction and showing how some incidents, because they are digres sions, perform aesthetic services they could not other wise perform. (p. 193) The mixing of two genres, satire and apologue (humor ( and homily), also creates structural problems. In order for Don Quixote and the Dulcineated World that, especially since about 18 00, the satiric aspects of Don Quijote have been smoothed over, I believe his analysis of the book as satire fails for two reasons. First, he refuses to accept clearly non-satiric elements (the apologues) for what they are, forcing them into a conception which demands total satiric consistency for the book. Second, he works with the book as a novel. Generically, it is satire, as I hope my analy sis will show. By expecting novelistic developments, such as psychologically consistent characters, Efron overtaxes his theory. 20 That there is excellent precedent for this relatively loose structure in long works of prose fiction satire is un questionable. Apuleius' Metamorphoses (or The Golden Ass) is an example of a work whose digressions, especially "Cupid and Psyche," are better known than the main story. the work to be successful, i.e., coherent and comprehen sible, the two genres must be fully integrated to form a single totality which is Don Quijote. However, they must also be completely distinguishable at the level of each epi sode. If a reader reads an apologue as though it were satire, or vice versa, the meaning may be completely dis torted and the thrust of the work lost. That Don Quijote, Part I does not always achieve this blending of genres as successfully as one would hope is shown by the number of critics and translators who have dismissed large sections as digressions. The primary critical problems for Don Quijote become, t then, the ferreting out of the messages given by the satiric and apologic elements, and the determination of their co herence and interrelationship in terms of meaning, struc ture, and style. My analysis will approach these points in terms of the larger structures of the work, occasionally pointing out areas that would be fruitful for further ex ploration in detail. I work with Parts I and II as separate units primarily because the nature of their structures dic tates this. They are two different books published ten years apart, and, in a sense that will become evident later, Part I can be seen as a trial run for Part II. The import 92 and structure of each Part are so different as to be signi ficantly distorted by any attempt to deal with them as a single unit. Although Part II retains the same main charac ters and pursues a similar course of action, a study of their themes and structures will establish the integrity of each Part as a discrete unit of literary meaning. The Prologue In a satire, first impressions are critical. The tone must be established immediately and vigorously in order to channel the readers' responses. Once the thrust of the satire has been identified, and the readers' responses have been conditioned, the satirist need not employ so many clues to the interpretation of each episode. The reader can be trusted to supply some of the textual commentary himself. The Prologue to Part I employs a multitude of ironic devices for just these purposes. It may be compared with a musical overture which in a brief space touches on the major themes and devices of the succeeding work. In fact, the first paragraph serves in the same way as an overture to the Prologue. Because of its density, it well repays a close examination. Desocupado lector, sin juramento me podrds creer que quisiera que este libro, como hijo del entendimiento, 93 fuera el mis hermoso, el mis gallardo y mis discreto que pudiera imaginarse. Pero no he podido yo contra- venlr i la orden de naturaleza; que en ella cada cosa engendra su semejante. Y asi, £que podia engendrar el estiril y mal cultivado ingenio mlo sino la historia de un hijo seco, avellanado, antojadizo, y lleno de pensamientos varios y nunca imaginados de otro alguno, bien como quien se engendr6 en una circel, donde toda incomodidad tiene su asiento y donde todo triste ruido hace su habitaciSn? El sosiego, el lugar apacible, la amenidad de los campos, la serenidad de los cielos, el murmurar de las fuentes, la quietud del espiritu, son grande parte para que las musas mis estiriles se mues- tran fecundas y ofrezcan partos al mundo que le colmen de maravilla y de contento. Acontece tener un padre un hijo feo y sin gracia alguna, y el amor que le tiene le pone una venda en los ojos para que no vea sus faltas; antes las juzga por discreciones y lindezas y las cuenta i sus amigos por agudezas y donaires. Pero yo, que, aunque parezco padre, soy padrastro de don Quijote, no quiero irme con la corriente del uso, ni suplicarte casi con las ligrimas en los ojos, como otros hacen, lector carxsimo, que perdones 6 disimules las faltas que en este mi hijo vieres, pues ni eres su pariente ni su amigo, y tienes tu alma en tu cuerpo y tu libre albedrlo como el mis pintado, y estis en tu casa, donde eres senor della, como el rey de sus alcabalas, y sabes lo que cominmente se dice, que debajo de mi manto, al rey mato. Todo lo cual te exenta y hace libre de todo respeto y obligaciin, y asl, puedes decir de la historia todo aquello que te pareciere, sin temor que te calunien por el mal ni te premien por el bien que dijeres della. (I, 7-9; 26) The persona of the author speaks with what D. C. Muecke calls "Self-disparaging Irony; the ironist brings himself on stage, so to speak, in the character of an ignorant, credu- 21 lous, earnest, or over-enthusiastic person." The first 21 The Compass of Irony (London: Methuen, 1969), p. 94 three of these terms are applicable to the pretended charac ter of the persona. For those familiar with the book to follow, there is an added level of irony in the persona taking on the very credulity about literature for which he will later be mocking his characters and readers. In the stylistic medley of the first paragraph several elements of the book are prefigured. The persona begins by ironically "blaming in order to praise" the quality of his work (Muecke, p. 68). Later he will be blaming in earnest the flaws of chivalric romances. Next he parodies the pas toral tradition in ironic remarks about the value of a natu ral setting for stimulating the creative impulse. Not only do pastoral literary traditions remain under attack, but in specific cases the author demonstrates how a natural setting may very well contribute to artificial and imitative liter ary impulses rather than natural creativity. Then the per sona steps back from his text by calling himself the pro tagonist's "padrastro," simultaneously demonstrating his artistic distance and control, his contempt for those 62. The terminology of irony used throughout this analysis derives from the categories established by Muecke. The extensive use of ironic devices throughout Don Quijote de serves closer attention than I am able to devote to it here. Muecke's categories would undoubtedly throw additional light on the stylistic skill of Cervantes. 95 authors who prey upon the reader's emotions rather than exciting his aesthetic sensibilities, and his light and imocking attitude toward the protagonist, perhaps indicating iby this term Don Quijote's literary ancestry, for, being a I mock hero, he is derived second-hand through the figures i 22 .from earlier literature, making Cervantes his step-father. I The first paragraph continues with a spate of plati- | I I tudes, foreshadowing Sancho's fondness for them, and ensur- j |ing that the reader first encounters them in a context saturated with irony. The later ironic treatment of Latin i cliches has the same effect, but the irony is then directed ; at the educated rather than the uneducated. The last two t i sentences indicate the author's awareness that, regardless ,of any effort he makes, the reader will make up his own mind| I about the work. Yet even this may be ironically intended, for a large repertoire of narrative devices is employed 22 The term "padrastro" is conventionally explained as a reference to Cide Hamete Benengeli and the other narrator j and translator who intervene between the author's persona j and the protagonist. However, since these intermediaries are only ironic devices themselves, they are not true inter-, mediaries. A better description of the author's persona in this relationship would be "abuelo," since he has created both the narrators and their "hijo," Don Quijote. He is the "padrastro" of Don Quijote in relationship to the earlier romances, because he has adopted their protagonists as his own. Don Quijote could not exist without the earlier tradi tion of knights errant. 96 to ensure that the careful reader has very little choice about how he is to understand and appreciate the book. In this dense first paragraph the persona has estab lished his own ironically credulous personality, has mocked two literary traditions: the pastoral romance and the ex cessively vain prologue, and has put the reader on guard against those who use platitudes or proverbs and those who offer literary opinions. We are aware at this point that the author is determined to oppose a wide range of literary customs. The persona continues in the same tone, expanding the Prologue as a parody of a prologue by introducing the "amigo," who ironically instructs the credulous persona in the secrets of literary success. At this point the author's persona assumes a dual role. He is both the ironist who writes the Prologue and the victim of the ironical advice it contains. Although he does not actually take the advice, except for reproducing it, he pretends to believe it. The irony thickens if we recall that later in Part I those characters subject to ironic ridicule often exhibit some of the same literary flaws explained here in mock-seriousness. For example, all of the pastoral poets in Part I are guilty of excessive dependence on classical names and authors. 97 As in the first paragraph, the objects of the friend's satiric comments are certain kinds of authors and their books. This is later extended to include scholars and stu dents. The qualities treated ironically are their lack of eloquence, their pseudo-erudition, their motives for writing (fame and fortune rather than learning or truth), and the resulting nature of their books— "fabulosos y profanos" (I, 11; 26), pompous, dull, and stupid. The friend uses pri marily only two ironic devices: praising in order to blame, and blaming in order to praise, the same used by the au thor's persona. In order for us to be certain that the Prologue is written ironically, it must present us with a contradictory statement which effectively identifies all opposing ideas as ironic. This occurs most clearly in this long sentence near the conclusion of the friend's lecture: Cuanto mcis que, si bien caigo en la cuenta, este vuestro libro no tiene necesidad de ninguna cosa de aquellas que vos decls que le faltan, porque todo £1 es una invectiva contra los libros de caballerias, de quien nunca se acord6 Arist6teles, ni dijo nada San Basilio, ni alcanz6 Cicer6n: ni caen debajo de la cuenta de sus fabulosas disparates las puntualidades de la verdad, ni las obser- vaciones de la Astrologia; ni le son de importancia las medidas geom^tricas, ni la confutaciSn de los argumentos de quien se sirve la retorica; ni tiene para qu£ predi car c l ninguno, mezclando lo humano con lo divino, que es un ggnero de mezcla de quien no se ha de vestir nin- gun cristiano entendimiento. (I, 22-24; 29-30) 98 For the first-time reader this statement confirms the criti cism of romances of chivalry and other types of pedantic or artificial writing by a direct statement of what was sug gested ironically before. But for the reader more familiar with the book, even this statement, seemingly so straight forward, contains its layer of irony. Although the book as a whole does not need the kinds of information the friend lists, Don Quijote employs just this kind of material in some of his speeches. This links the character and his ideas that much more closely to the objects of ridicule in the Prologue. The subsequent remarks of the friend combine advice with which the author really agrees, such as the use of "palabras significantes, honestas, y bien colocadas" (I, 24; 30), with alternating criticism of traditional appeals to authority of which both Don Quijote and other authors are manifestly guilty. We know that the author agrees with certain of the stylistic precepts because he follows them himself in the later apologues where the tone is entirely non-ironic. In the closing paragraph the persona reinforces by his pretended innocence the ironic effect of the friend’s ad vice. In repeating the assertion that the story we are .about to read is "tan sincera y tan sin revueltas" (I, 25; 99 30) he ensures that we understand it is not to be taken at face value, but to be read as parody and satire. The last sentences are saturated with hyperbole, signalled especially in the use of "tan" five times and "tal" once, and the term "encarecer." Ironic hyperbole is a standard parodic device; this is the first time that it is applied directly rather than obliquely to the characters of the story. Although blame and praise predominate, the Prologue contains at least six additional ironic devices besides hyperbole. The style of the Prologue as a whole is infor mal, conversational, and dramatized, an ironic parody of traditional, stiffly formal, convention-laden prologues. I have already mentioned the device of pretended advice to a victim, which the reader sees as ironic but the victim is not able (or pretends not to be able) to see through. There is the mocking laugh of the friend, which will be echoed by other characters dozens of times during the course of the book and which serves as a primitive but infallible signal that whatever preceded was satirical. There is ironic mis representation when, for example, the persona says "ni menos s§ qu§ autores sigo en el" (I, 12; 26), because we know that he does know his literary sources, the romances of chivalry, and frequently cites them in his parody. The use of the 100 exaggerated epithet with Don Quijote's name is obviously mock-heroic, and tags the protagonist at the outset as the object of the parody. And, finally, there is the use of the ironic rhetorical question (I, 11; 26) . In addition to introducing a repertory of ironic de vices and parodic victims, the Prologue suggests two of the themes which will become dominant. The first, truth, is of primary interest in Part I in the contrasts of history and fiction, reality and fantasy, verisimilitude and inveri similitude. Desengano (disillusionment) is crucial as a means of reaching the truth. Although desengano is attained by several of the secondary characters in Part I, it is not until Part II and Don Quijote's road to disillusionment that the theme becomes fully implemented in the text. It is mentioned here only in passing by the friend. Por Dios, hermano, que ahora me acabo de desenganar de un engafio en que he estado todo el mucho tiempo que ha que os conozco, en el cual siempre os he tenido por discreto y prudente en todas vuestras acciones. (I, 13-14; 27) It will not take on a serious thematic significance until Marcela delivers her oration at Grisdstomo's funeral. The theme of truth, however, is seldom lost sight of in Part I. It never grows tedious because it functions in several guises. It is introduced ironically by the friend's 101 remarks about the lack of dedicatory poems. ... se puede remediar en que vos mismo tom^is algtin tra- bajo en hacerlos, y despu^s los pod^is bautizar y poner el nombre que quisi§redes, ahijcindolos al Preste Juan de las Indias 6 al emperador de Trapisonda, de quien yo s£ que hay noticia que fueron famosos poetas; y cuando no lo hayan sido y hubiere algunos pedantes y bachilleres que por detrcis os muerdan y murmuren desta verdad, no se os d£ dos maravedis; porque ya que os averiguen la mentira, no os han de cortar la mano con que los escri- bistes. (I, 15-16; 27-28) While on the surface truth is being treated very cavalierly, there is never any uncertainty about where truth lies under this ironic attack against those authors who create such extravagant fantasies and those bachilleres who, instead of protesting, form one of their largest audiences. The joke is carried to absurd lengths when, true to the friend's ironical advice, the persona appends dedicatory poems attributed to fictional characters like the Emperor of Trapisonda, thus ironically committing the same fault Don Quijote is ridiculed for, that is, investing literary char acters with independent life. Furthermore, these poems satirize the characters whom they are supposed to praise, and the characters, in turn, imitate the fictional beings who ironically praise them, thus compounding the ridicule of themselves. This is an excellent example of what Muecke 102 23 calls complex irony, and a testimony to the artistry of Cervantes as a satirist. In any work as complexly ironical as Don Quijote is proving to be, the question of truth must of necessity be part of the game the author plays with his readers. Truth must be deduced from evidence which may seem to be contra dictory at first glance. Yet any satirist knows that in order for his satire to succeed it must work as consistently as possible' toward the goal of ridiculing whatever object or set of objects have been selected. In addition, the reader must always be able to interpret the episodes of the satire in a way that will illuminate the total meaning of the work. So far, we have identified several tools for recognizing what is false about certain statements. They allow us to deduce by contrast what is meant to be considered as true or admirable. When the ironic friend asserts that the truth is not important, he establishes that, on the contrary, the truth is a crucial consideration in what is to follow. Irony is not the only method of satire, and sometimes our source of the truth is more direct, as when a character 23 "A complex irony would, I suppose, be one in which there were ironies within ironies as there may be clauses within clauses in a complex sentence" (pp. 52-53). 103 is established as reliable and then proceeds to furnish indisputably true information about events. True informa tion may also be inserted among ironic statements, as in the first paragraph of the Prologue when Don Quijote is de scribed as "un hijo seco, avellanado, antojadizo, y lleno de pensamientos varios y nunca imaginados de otro alguno, ..." (I, 7; 25). Despite the irony of the last phrase, the de scription of the protagonist has more than a little truth in it. In cases where there may be some doubt about the per spective we are to assume toward an episode, we have our primary clue in the way the episode fits into the context of the work and functions with it. As Sheldon Sacks points out, After the very beginning of Gulliver's Travels the one constant in the pattern of organization is that each encounter between Gulliver and another agent results— with minor exceptions . . .— in ridicule of a clearly defined external object. (p. 43) This is why it is so important that stylistic devices and objects of attack be clearly set forth in the Prologue, thereby conditioning the reader in his responses to certain kinds of statements and situations. Later, when Don Quijote is introduced, we are thoroughly prepared to laugh at him as the embodiment of false literary standards. As Sheldon Sacks says of Joseph Andrews, 104 we are inclined to laugh, even before we meet him, . . . because a narrator acting in a subtly defined role as ironic commentator has already affected our attitude toward the pattern on which the as yet uncharacterized young man has molded himself. (p. 72) Fielding learned his lesson well from Cervantes! The conclusion of the Prologue is a complicated mixture of ironic and non-ironic statements which test the percep tiveness of the reader, and are perhaps designed to make more sense in retrospect. Muecke's comment may be appro priate here. Of course, a great deal of verbal irony is calculated not to be immediately apparent; but the ironist who strengthens the force of his irony by momentarily mis leading his readers can hardly be said to make victims of them. Though when, as sometimes in Swift for exam ple, misleading the readers becomes an ironic attack upon them as well as or instead of an attack upon some one or something else, they will be victims . . . (p. 38) By insisting upon the statement that Don Quijote is a j ! I "simple sencilla historia" (I, 22; 29) and "todo 61 es una j I') K invectiva contra los libros de caballerlas, ..." (I, 22; 29), the ironic friend awakens our suspicions. On the level of structure, the next section will establish that Part I is indeed mostly a satire against the romances of chivalry, but other elements are introduced which change the emphasis or broaden the compass of the satire. Even in the Prologue we 105 have found sure indications that at least one other form of literature, the pastoral, is under attack. So the reader who takes the friend's partially serious statements too seriously becomes himself one of the victims of the satire. As a result of this Prologue and the "versos prelimi- nares," we are conditioned to respond more quickly to the satire in the body of the work. As the story progresses, the signals diminish in frequency and visibility, largely due to the author's confidence (perhaps misplaced) in the reader's sharpened ability to detect his irony. The satiric territory has been broadly mapped; it remains for the tar gets to be delineated more finely. Before proceeding to the overall structure of Part I it may be useful for those who might still be skeptical that the satiric impulse is really basic to Don Quijote to apply a quite different definition of satire to the work, keeping 24 in mind what we have found in the Prologue. Unlike Sacks' deductive theoretical approach to genre, Gilbert Highet 24 For example, some critics argue that Don Quijote is not satirical because the vogue of romances of chivalry had passed its peak before 1605. The peak may have passed, but the romances were still being read, and were familiar to the people of the time. Besides, the satire on romances of chivalry has universal application as satire on escape lit erature in general, and is thus timeless in its message. 106 reasons inductively about satire by creating a list of those elements traditionally found in all works generally recog- 25 nized as satire. In The Anatomy of Satire Highet presents a checklist of six tests for identifying satire, all of which Don Quijote satisfies. First, the work must point to itself as satire by either calling itself satire, or recit ing a pedigree of earlier satires, or using a well-estab lished satiric theme, or quoting a known satirist. Cervan tes causes the friend in the Prologue to call Don Quijote "una invectiva contra los libros de caballerias" (I, 22; 29) . Second, the subject under attack is always topical. The friend continues, "... esta vuestra escritura no mira S . mSs que c i deshacer la autoridad y cabida que en el mundo y en el vulgo tienen los libros de caballerias, ..." (I, 24; 30), indicating by the use of the present tense that this is a current problem. The other four tests are implicitly answered in the Prologue, but they are actually dramatized only in the body of the text. The third test is the choice of vocabulary. Satire normally includes cruel, comic, and colloquial lan guage. The blunt ridicule in the "versos preliminares" 25 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton Univ. Press, 1962), p. 15f f. 107 could be considered cruel language, and Sancho provides an abundance of examples of the comic and colloquial in his malapropisms and proverbs. Fourth is the presence of the unexpected or startling. Don Quijote is himself a startling figure, as all the other characters testify. In fact, the common response to almost every event, whether Don Quijote appears in it or not, is that of astonishment, suggesting that the stimulation of admiratio is a major aesthetic goal in the work. Fifth is the use of traditional satiric de vices. Highet lists, in addition to those mentioned in the previous tests, irony, paradox, parody, antithesis, anti climax, obscenity or the scatological, violence, exaggera tion, and incongruity. Just within the Prologue we have already noted irony, parody, and hyperbole. Most readers can supply their own examples of these devices, and the following analysis will provide specific cases. The sixth test is more subjective than the first five, because it is a question of the reader's response. Satire must evoke a response which mingles in varying proportions the feelings of amusement and contempt. There is no doubt about the presence of humor in Don Quijote. The critical dispute is over the question of contempt. At this point I shall only suggest that any work which subjects its 108 protagonist to the scatological, the violent, and the sar castic to such a degree as is found in Don Quijote is prob ably aimed at producing contempt, or at least disapproval, for the protagonist. The body of the text will provide ample evidence when we consider the subject of characteri zation . 26 The Structure The organization of a satire is rhetorical rather than 26 There have not been very many attempts to present a complete analysis of the structure of Don Quijote. This is partly due to the influence of critics like Helmut Hatzfeld, who assert that there is no structure to figure out, that the work is simply an episodic narration with recurring motifs. (El "Quijote” como obra de arte del lenguaje, trans. M. C. de I. [Madrid: Patronato del IV Centenario del Nacimiento de Cervantes, 1949].) Joaquin Casalduero, in Sentido y forma del Quijote (Madrid: Insula, 1949) , takes the opposite side, but relies on the textual divisions men tioned within the work to locate the structural symmetries. He thus falls into a trap set by the author, as will be explained in this section. Casalduero does, however, make the important point that a structure does exist under what superficially appears to be chaos. He uses "orden desorde- nada," a term from Don Quijote (Ch. 50), to describe this hidden structure in "Algunas caracteristicas de la litera- tura espahola del renacimiento y del barroco," Filologla y Critica Hisp^nica (Homenaje al profesor F. Scinchez-Escri- bano), ed. A. Porqueras y C. Rojas (Emory Univ.: Ediciones AlcalU, 1969). Alexander Parker presents an interesting argument that the structure of Don Quijote is based on the moral development of the protagonist in "Fielding and the Structure of Don Quixote," Bulletin of Hispanic Studies, 3 3 (1956), 1-16. Knud Togeby's La composition du roman "Don Quijote", Suppl. 1 of Orbis Literarium (Copenhagen: Librai- ,rie Munksgaard, 1957) summarizes earlier critical attitudes, 109 representational. Its episodes are not related to each other by the demands of fictional probability based on char acter or plot. The rhetorical ordering of Don Quijote is determined by the goal of parodying certain elements of the 27 romances of chivalry. The conventional elements of the parodied form must be included in order to satisfy the ex pectations of the reader who is familiar with romances of this type. The reader of parody is led to entertain expec tations regarding form and style as much as character or plot. Satire is most definitely not structured on the working out of human relationships and emotions. It may employ verisimilitude of character and incident for satiric but adds little to the discussion of structure. He supplies handy lists of parallel episodes. The analysis is handi capped by his insistence on seeing the work as a novel of character. Raymond Immerwahr works out a much more imagi native and meaningful suggestion for the structure of Part I, at least, in his article "Structural Symmetry in the Episodic Narratives of Don Quijote, Part One," Comparative Literature, 10 (1958), 121-35. He offers several useful suggestions for the relationship of the so-called digres sions to the work as a whole. The most recent article on structure, Armand F. Baker's "A New Look at the Structure of Don Quijote," Revista de Estudios Hisp^nicos, 7 (enero 1973), 3-21, is essentially a refinement on Casalduero's ^analysis. 27 See Martin de Riquer, Cervantes y el Quijote (Barce lona: Editorial Teide, 1960) and Hans Jorg Neuschafer, Per Sinn der Parodie im Don Quijote (Heidelberg: C. Winter, 1963) for a detailed discussion of the romances being paro died . 110 ends, but not as a means of developing complex personal relationships. For the moment, let us take Cervantes at his somewhat ironic word and examine Part I as "una invectiva contra los libros de caballerias." The two main aspects of chivalry that are subject to attack are easily reduced to the goals of arms and love. We can label almost every, episode in Part I as directed toward a parody (or, in the case of the apologues, a moral statement on) arms and love. The three main episodes remaining are discussions of literature, spe cifically the evil effects of poorly written and overly fantastic romances and plays. These subdivisions are all 28 charted on the following page. The three subdivisions of arms correspond to the type of action undertaken. Arms-1 are those cases where exag geration, enchantment, or hallucination are the controlling factors. In these episodes animals and things may be dam aged, but no person is ever injured. Arms-2 are those cases where on an imagined provocation Don Quijote attacks an innocent human being and injures him in some way. Arms-3 28 Joaquin Casalduero pointed out the three divisions of .arms, love, and literature in Sentido y forma del Quijote, pp. 25-26. Arms-1 Arms-2 Arms-3 Arms-2 Literature Arms-1 Arms-2 Policy Love Love Love Arms-3 Arms-1 Arms-2 Arms-1 Arms-2 Arms-3 Love Love Love Arming of Don Quijote Knighting of Don Quijote Andres Toledan merchants Examination of the library Windmills Biscayan Golden Age speech Gris6stomo and Marcela (apologue) — Center of first half— Yanguesan mares Maritornes Sancho's blanketing Sheep Corpse Fulling hammers Barber's basin Galley slaves Cardenio's story Don Quijote's penance — Center of Part I— Curate and Barber interrupt Sancho's mission to Dulcinea and hear Cardenio' story 112 Love Arms-1 Arms-3 Literature Dorotea's story Princess Micomicona Andres returns Discussion at the inn Love/fiction El curioso impertinente (apologue) Arms-1 Wineskins Love Policy Arms/history Love Love Arms-2 Arms-1 Literature Love Arms-2 Fernando and Luscinda/ Cardenio and Dorotea (apologue) Arms and Letters speech — Center of second half— Captive and Zoraida (apologue) Doha Clara and Don Luis (apologue) Don Quijote hung by wrist Baciyelmo battle Enchantment of Don Quijote — Canon on books and plays Story of Leandra Penitents Coda 113 are those cases where a human being is in real distress and Don Quijote is moved to succor him, but either fails to aid him, or aggravates the problem, causing additional damage. These three types seem to be rather symmetrically spaced through Part I, although there is no invariable patterning present. I have also isolated what I like to call Don Qui jote's policy speeches, one on the Golden Age and one on Arms and Literature. That all of the episodes of Part I can be broken down so readily into their parodic goals, and the overt criticism of chivalric romances is resumed three times, is strong evidence that the friend's words were more in earnest than is generally recognized. Part I easily divides into two equal halves between Don Quijote's penance in the Sierra Morena and Sancho's meeting with the Curate and Barber at the inn on the way to deliver the letter to Dulcinea. The symmetry of the two halves is underlined by the fact that the last episodes of each half are based on penitence: Don Quijote's imitative penance for an imaginary lover, and the knight's uncalled- for attack on the real religious penitents just before he reaches home. The second episode is an obvious ironic com mentary on the first, and both may imply by their position ing that true penance for foolish actions (such as his 114 literary penance and his attack on real penitents) should be Don Quijote's real goal. In the first half Don Quijote moves unhindered from encounter to encounter; in the second half his actions are manipulated by other characters, led by the Curate. The knight's loss of control over events in the second half is prepared by his agreement to partially relinquish decision making to Sancho in the second quarter. Excluding the occa sions when Rocinante is given his head, Don Quijote deter mines the progress of the travels in the first quarter. Immediately after the center of the first half, Sancho be gins to decide their course, and Don Quijote acquiesces. At first, the knight has little choice, having been beaten so badly by the Yanguesans. After his first beating by the Toledans, Don Quijote was taken home by a neighbor, but now that Sancho is available to keep him on the road to adven tures, the beating is not enough to stop his travels. They continue under the influence of Sancho's advice. The squire selects the direction of travel only in the first three cases: the Yanguesan, Sheep, and Corpse episodes. His daring increases when he binds Rocinante's feet in the full ing hammers episode. In anger, Don Quijote turns down Sancho's advice to escape the rain by entering the fulling 115 mills, but it is the only time he asserts himself in the second quarter. After the episode of' the galley slaves, Sancho again takes the lead. This power to manipulate their travels is not accompanied by any influence over the knight's fantasies, but it prepares for a more thorough manipulation of Don Quijote's experiences in the second half. The thematic development of the satire on bad romances and their readers also turns at the center of Part I. The first half presents the deepening entrapment of the knight in his own imaginings, combined with his ever more objec tionable deeds. It climaxes on the social level in his most anti-social deed, the freeing of the galley slaves. On the personal level the self-delusion climaxes in the ultimate irony of a madman playing at being mad. As Alexander Parker has shown, this marks the nadir of Don Quijote's career in Part I ("Fielding and the Structure of Don Quixote," p. 7). The first half, then, has shown a vertical development moving ever deeper into madness. The second half turns to a horizontal development as the literary madness shows its effect on the culture as a whole. In the second half, then, Don Quijote becomes relatively peripheral to events, and his loss of control over his actions is accentuated by the fact that the major portion of the events takes place in stasis 116 at the inn. The madness itself is not literally spread among the other characters, but to varying degrees they show their susceptibility to the influence of the false standards of the romances. The social extension of the satire is asserted in part through the interlocking relationships of the new characters, for in the first half none of the char acters encountered by the knight had any relationship with any other set of characters. The climax of the second half is also social, in contrast to the total isolation of Don Quijote’s penance. The mock-heroic battle over the baci- yelmo beings all the characters on stage in a grand finale. The battle is followed by a coda which returns the focus to the knight as he is carted home. The other characters grad ually disperse until only the original four, Don Quijote, Sancho, the Curate, and the Barber are left to encounter various adventures along the route. The coda also recapitu lates the four most prominent types of episodes in this part. The two halves are held together in several ways. The most obvious are the continuity of the major characters and themes. In addition, there is a circularity of design which brings Don Quijote home to the same village from which he set out. The reappearance of the Barber and Curate at the exact center Of the book signal the turn from an outward motion to a return to the point of origin. j I Complementing the two halves is a triad design based on the contrast between sets of episodes of arms and sets of ' episodes of love. The arms episodes form the outer frame- ,work, the love episodes the foci. In fact, the clustering , i iof arms and love is almost pure. There are only three cases where an arms episode appears within a love episode cluster | 'or vice versa, and all three occur in the last third of |Part I. The three discussions of literature seem to be further evidence for three-part symmetry. i I The arms episodes represent the most purely parodic and; i purely chivalric elements of the text. Almost all of the aspects which expand the parody to other forms of litera- I ture, the satire to other levels of society, and change the ' I tone from comic to serious or tragic, from satiric to moral-; i izing, occur in the three sets of love episodes. They con- i I tain all five of the apologues and both of Don Quijote's main policy speeches. In contrast to these functional layers of symmetrical structure is the fictitious, asymmetrical structure asserted, by Cide Hamete Benengeli. He ends his first part in the middle of the battle with the Biscayan, the second just after Grisdstomo's burial, the third as Cardenio concludes his story, and the fourth at the end of the book. These j division points tend to fracture units of meaning, whereas 1 1 'the triad structure I suggest reinforces meaningful patterns iwithin the satire. [ It can now be seen that the supposed structure imposed by Cide Hamete Benengeli is irrelevant to the actual design of the work. The author has ironically undercut the role of] his primary narrator, who, instead of framing the story by jhis presence, is framed by it. This means that Benengeli's | functions in Part I are parodic and ironic. He is available' i !to provide ironic commentary when need be. He can be used as a parodic device for interrupting the stream of an action I and artificially creating suspense. He can, as a "lying Moor," be the source of infinite ironies on the "truth" of the romances, and their historical validity. But in no. way j does he control the design of the book. I l 1 Thus, all of Benengeli1s Part and Chapter divisions function as parodic devices, just as he does. In The Phan tom Chapters of the Quijote Raymond Willis has very clearly i demonstrated that the chapter divisions do not reflect any j 29 correlation with the logical divisions in the action. The> 29 (New York: Hispanic Institute in the United States, 1953). 119 i style almost always contradicts the superficial disjunction of the chapter breaks by developing a feeling of continuity and interrelationship. The same is true of the arbitrary i [division into four Parts at very strange intervals, and of j the break between the first and second sallies. When Don i i Quijote returns home and acquires a squire, it serves less ; as a division based on structure or meaning than as a paro- i die interruption ridiculing a knight who had so little fore-j thought as to go off without a squire to pick him up and i ! I bind his wounds. ! i i f 1 That the structure of Part I breaks down so readily j into the categories of ideas about arms and love indicates ; I how purely rhetorical and satirical its structure is. Con sistency, integrity, and unity of design are all to be found in approaching the work first as "una invectiva contra los libros de caballerlas." It provides the one pattern within 'which all characters, themes, and actions work coherently toward the same end. I Although the division into halves offers some insight j into the direction of the satire, it is in the contrast be- i tween the episodes of arms and love that the meaning of the text most closely parallels the structure and is revealed by it. These subsets will also supply the most effective 120 framework for examining how Cervantes attempted to bridge the stylistic gap between parody and apologue. The Arms Episodes | ! 1 Two large sections of arms episodes dominate the first i half of Part I. They are the main stage for Don Quijote's i I actions and the primary means for dramatizing the parody of I I I romances of chivalry. We must draw most of our knowledge of: 1 ithe protagonist from these scenes because he appears as the major actor in only three of the love episodes— the Mari- j tornes episode, the penitence, and the second encounter with| i I Maritornes when he is suspended by the wrist. Although Don Quijote often speaks of Dulcinea as the one who inspires i and protects him, she never appears in Part I, and only one J of his three amorous experiences is directed toward her. I i The knight does not even appear in, several of the major love| .episodes. They have been given over in large part to other literary traditions, especially the pastoral, in which romantic interests form a more central concern. Hence, our f I primary impressions of the knight are derived from the most ' I purely parodic sections, the arms episodes, a fact that j strongly suggests the importance stereotyping plays in his characterization. The best way to satirize an object that is considered 121 exaggerated is to stretch the exaggeration yet further, making it unmistakable. Given an offensively inverisimilar group of literary heroes, one parodic knight can easily demolish them with a character concocted of a series of exaggerations and distortions of their most visible and offensive features. In the person of Don Quijote, faith is reduced to credulity; boldness becomes overzealousness in the service of error; strength turns to harming the inno cent; mercy is used to free the guilty; pride grows vain and self-congratulatory; handsomeness, youth, and grace are transformed into ugliness, age, and clumsiness; nobility of birth is reduced to mediocre family; highmindedness grows indecorous; fancy orations become overblown, illogical rant- ings. J. B. Avalle-Arce and E. C. Riley argue that because we are not present at Don Quijote's physical birth, as is traditional in earlier prose fiction for establishing the "determinismo de sangre," this break with the history and the logical development of the character establishes Don 30 Quijote's individuality. On the contrary, it establishes 30 "Don Quijote," Suma Cervantina, ed. J. B. Avalle-Arce and E. C. Riley (London: Tamesis Books, 1973), pp. 47-79. 122 his parodic nature. What Avalle-Arce and Riley have over looked is that we are present at his spiritual birth into madness, a parody of the traditional hero's birth. The knight is conspicuously without lineage or family, but the lineage that predicts his actions as a madman is exhaus tively presented in the details of his library. Amadis, Orlando, Lancelot, and all the other fictional knights are his spiritual fathers, whose bequest to Don Quijote is the literary determinism that evolves through his parody of their adventures. In earlier prose fiction "ese determinismo encapsula al personaje novelesco en una situaci6n de vida (caballero, picaro o pastor), de la que no se puede salir" (p. 48). Literacy traditions are not being thrown out here, as Avalle-Arce and Riley assert. Instead, they are being in verted to fit the needs of the parody. The uncertainty regarding Don Quijote's name and birthplace, in contrast to the minute details of his dress and eating habits, is an ironic comment on the earlier works which attempted to give verisimilitude to their incredible characters with the oppo site combination of information. Here the fool wears his motley openly, making the very idea of Don Quijote being a historical character a joke upon all the exaggerated knights 'who have been taken for real. The birth of the mad knight ■from his reading of. fantastic books, and his newly acquired ironic name, dress, mistress, and actions encapsulate him just as firmly in the destiny of a parodic figure as a 31 heroic birth ever locked a knight into the path to glory. I The very literary quality of Don Quijote's dementia is ; expressed in all of his character traits. Each one is a | parodic reversal or exaggeration of a knightly trait from | I 'the romances, as each of his adventures parodies a typical I chivalric encounter. i Rules derived from his studies of the fictional heroes j I i i I 'dominate his behavior. Instead of reacting realistically to! i the human needs in each situation, he examines his memory for an example or a rule that will apply. He refuses to assist an innkeeper because the participants in the fight are not knights, and it is therefore forbidden for him to i lower himself by getting involved. All of the knight's phraseology and ideas are drawn i I I 31 ^ Another layer is added to the irony when Don Quijote is later forced to admit that his own fictional creation, Dulcinea, is equally without lineage or family. By con trast, characters like Dorotea and Fernando are given veri similitude through family that was denied Don Quijote. This is done to allow them to function more credibly within the serious apologues. 124 from his books. He speaks in formulas as he acts by rules. — Creedme, fermosa senora, que os podgis llamar ven- turosa por haber alojado en este vuestro castillo A mi persona, que es tal, que si yo no la alabo, es por lo que suele decirse que la alabanza propia envilece; pero mi escudero os dirli qui§n soy. S6lo os digo que tendrS eternamente escrito en mi memoria el servicio que me habedes fecho, para agradeceroslo mientras la vida me durare; y pluguiera a los altos cielos que el amor no me tuviera tan rendido y tan sujeto i . sus leyes, y los ojos de aquella fermosa ingrata que digo entre mis dien- tes; que los desta fermosa doncella fueran senores de mi libertad. (II, 34-35; 120) He also displays the talent of the vain for flaunting their modesty at every opportunity. As part of the parody, much of his speech is discordant with his stated intentions. Where he claims fidelity to Dulcinea, he demonstrates a wandering eye, as above. Al though he asserts his chaste affections, his speech often indicates excessive attention to the physical. In even his tritest speeches he manages to make indecorous references. Don Quijote praises Dulcinea: ... que sus cabellos son oro, su frente campos eliseos, sus cejas arcos del cielo, sus ojos soles, sus mejillas rosas, sus labios corales, perlas sus dientes, alabastro su cuello, marmol su pecho, marfil sus manos, su blancura nieve, y las partes que c i la vista humana encubri6 la honestidad son tales, segtin yo pienso y entiendo, que s6lo la discreta consideraci6n puede encarecerlas, y no compararlas. (I, 297; 100. My emphasis) Another example of the knight's orientation toward the 125 physical is his story of the widow, which he applies to his own situation with Dulcinea (Ch. 25). The satiric effect of indecorous sexual references is bolstered by scatological details: enemas (Ch. 15), vomiting (Chs. 17 and 18), and laxatives (Ch. 20). Besides being clichS-ridden, Don Quijote*s speeches are poor examples of the art of rhetoric. The purpose again is to parody the excesses of the romances. As A. J. Close aptly puts it, "Cervantes uses the techniques of high rhe toric in a way that is parasitic on the normal, serious use— for ends of comic irony" (p. 242). He finds that "Sty listic gaffes pervade all Don Quijote's references to Dul cinea. They take two main forms; inappropriate vulgarity and rhetorical excess" (p. 244). In Mary Mackey's analysis of the knight's Golden Age Speech, she finds evidence for the same conclusion, although she appears much more uncom fortable with the implications of her findings. Her analy sis establishes that this speech is illogical, inappropri ate, and inharmonious. Thus, in Cervantes' work, "aberra tions of style reveal corresponding aberrations of intel lect" (Mackey, p. 63). Don Quijote's deeds expose the ludicrous absurdities of the chivalric battles with giants and rescues of damsels in 126 distress just as effectively as his speeches expose their style. His damsels in distress turn out to be a lady tra velling to meet her husband or, ironically, a real damsel in distress who does not reveal her true situation but an in vented story to trick the knight. His giants are windmills, fulling hammers, or wineskins, all elements of the most ordinary reality possible. All of Don Quijote's efforts to impose his fantasy on reality, to assist those he believes to be in trouble, only establish how great a peril he is to all he encounters. He determinedly goes about breaking legs, bashing heads, and killing sheep, all in the name of service to the weak. Whether he is strong, brave, and de structive (e.g., with the Biscayan), or fearful and willing to retreat (e.g., with the galley slaves), it all serves the parody of chivalric fantasy. As Henry Hallam said, "those who are elated by Don Quixote's character forget that he has no character, but is a compound of material from chivalry books" (cited in Efron, "Satire Denied," p. 146). Sancho, the parody of a squire, is faithful because of his greed, naive about his master's ideas, ignorant of the demands of his role, a thorough coward, and an occasional liar. Sometimes he believes Don Quijote's interpretation of events; sometimes he does not. In the case of the 127 baciyelmo he compromises out of sheer desperation. Oscar Mandel observes that "Sancho alternates between credulity and incredulity, loyalty and disloyalty, not according to a psychological imperative, but as the comedy demands" (p. 158) . As the main characters of the satire, the knight and squire are designed purely to serve its ends. They do not participate in the apologue sections and therefore need not demonstrate any variations in their characterizations except those which are necessary to the parody. Their character istics in a given episode are determined by the parodic needs of that adventure. When Don Quijote and Sancho are alone on the road, Cervantes needs a voice of sanity to present the reality with which the knight's fantasies con flict. Sancho, the only available character for this role, is fully confident of the reality he sees and quite willing to argue with his master. Later, when other characters are available to function as voices of reality and sanity, San cho demonstrates more gullibility. Yet, when the Curate ceases to function as a voice of reality in the episode of Don Quijote's enchantment, Sancho resumes that role. It is not a matter of character development, but of the most efficient means of getting across the points of the satire. 128 There are other apparent inconsistencies in Part I which, if it were a novel, would be evidence of poor charac terization. These items, however, improve the effect of the individual satiric incidents without harming the overall impression of the work. For example, the first time Don Quijote arrives at the inn with Sancho, neither the inn keeper's wife, nor his daughter, nor Maritornes can under stand his extravagant speech, "que asi las entendian como si hablara en griego" (II, 35; 120). Maritornes even has to ask "cQu§ es caballero aventurero?" (II, 33; 119). Yet on their second visit, the innkeeper's family and Maritornes have a lively discussion with the Curate about books of chivalry, and show a fairly good familiarity with the sub ject. In the first case the episode was designed to ridi cule the characters in books of chivalry, as personified by Don Quijote; thus, every element lends itself to mocking the knight. In the second case, the ridicule is directed toward the credulity of the'readers of these books; hence the need for their familiarity with the topic. Another example would be Rocinante's uncharacteristic transformation: "en aquel instante le hablan nacido alas S Rocinante, segtan andaba de ligero y orgulloso" (II, 108-09; 144). The purpose of these minor inconsistencies is the same as in other satires, where 129 characterization is secondary to the message. Sheldon Sacks comments on this in terms of Gulliver's Travels. But the point is not that Gulliver is an inconsistent character whose inconsistencies are occasionally acci dentally put to use by Swift, but that the consistency of a character's traits if he is an agent of satire is irrelevant to the effect of the whole work. If Swift had made Gulliver a consistent character he would in no way have improved Gulliver's Travels but, instead, might not have been able to write a coherent satire at all. (p. 36) The characterization of Don Quijote is more consistent than either Gulliver's or Sancho's, but this is due to the close ness with which he follows and parodies the knights of the romances. Whenever a character must serve more than one function within the satire, such as Sancho who is both agent and victim of ridicule, we can expect the characterization to show some discrepancies. The skill and care with which Cervantes employs narra tive voices to control reader response to the characters is impressive. The persona introduced in the Prologue main tained an almost entirely ironic stance in that section. Within the body of the text, however, he acts both as ironic and non-ironic commentator. We may be given either struc tural or rhetorical clues for determining with which voice he is speaking. In the earlier episodes, the signals are almost entirely rhetorical, with the major exception of our 130 knowledge from the Prologue that the work is designed as satire. The irony is immediately apparent, for example, in the remark on Don Quijote's admiration for the writing of Feliciano de Silva, "porque la claridad de su prosa y aque- llas entricadas razones suyas le parecia de perlas, ...” (I, 53; 31). It is the familiar device of praising in order to blame. Two lines later he seriously reports that "con £stas razones perdla el pobre caballero el juicio, ..." (I, 54; 32). It is simple to determine the tone of these re marks because they so clearly follow the satiric pattern set up in the Prologue, and the description of de Silva’s style is so apparently at variance with the sample offered. We can be certain that the presentation of Don Quijote as mad and foolish is a non-ironic evaluation by the narra tor (however much he may emphasize the comedy of the knight's role), because only a serious perception of the madness conforms with the goals of the satire and with the other obviously parodic traits assigned to him. The first narrator's judgment is confirmed by the reactions of the other characters. They universally regard him as mad, and some take great pleasure in duping him further. The first innkeeper is amused by the prospect of the knighting and by his own lengthy ironic comparison of knights-errant to 131 thieves and scoundrels, which Don Quijote shows no signs of 32 comprehending. One of the Toledan merchants also enjoys ironically stringing along Don Quijote on the subject of Dulcinea. That several of the characters who find Don Qui jote ridiculous are themselves mocked does not thereby re duce the strength of the ridicule directed at Don Quijote. It simply broadens the satiric target, for even the inn keepers are familiar with the ways of chivalric romances, and are therefore implicated as part of the group of readers who are satirized for their excessive attention to bad lit erature . Those characters who comment on the actions or thoughts of the knight are extensions of the narrator, and may be as simple as the girls at the inn who laugh at Don Quijote or as complex as the Curate. The more complex commentators will also occasionally employ a blend of ironic and non- ironic commentary, as did the friend who appeared in the Prologue. Specific instances of these complex commentaries 32 The first implication that knights-errant are no better than thieves arises before the innkeeper presses the point. In Chapter I the narrator reports that Don Quijote "sobre todos, estaba bien con Reynaldos de MontalbSn, y m^s cuando le vela salir de su castillo y robar cuantos topaba, ..." (I, 57). Apparently Cervantes found some justice in the analogy. 132 will be examined in the context of the episodes. The theme which links the three types of arms episodes is the problem of truth in literature. It was introduced ironically in the Prologue, and is pursued in the body of the text with a combination of ironic and non-ironic meth ods. The theme has two basic manifestations: the conflict between reality and fantasy in the knight's adventures, and the conflict between history and fiction on the narrative level. While reality and history represent the same sides of the duality, their treatments are reversed. The reality of each physical encounter is expressed by the narrator in completely non-ironic terms to undercut the absurdities of Don Quijote's fantasies, but the historicity of the account, as personified in the figure of Cide Hamete Benengeli, is expressed in completely ironic terms to undercut his credi bility as a chronicler. Thus the same satiric point is made about the absurdly fictional fantasies of the romances of chivalry as supposedly historical chronicles, but from two different directions and with complementary techniques. The arms-1 episodes are the most transparently parodic of the three types in their emphasis on fantasy and hallu cination. Don Quijote does relatively little damage except to himself in these adventures. 133 In the first episode, Don Quijote's arming and naming, the physical reality of each object is made very plain to the reader before Don Quijote is allowed to interpret it 33 according to his fantasy. And immediately upon his tam pering with the reality of the object, he is ridiculed for his efforts. When he selects a name for Rocinante, for example, we are first told with humorous exaggeration, but without irony, that "su rocln ... tenia mSs cuartos que un real y mSs tachas que el caballo de Gonela, ..." (I, 61; 34). It is only after we are aware of the poor quality of the nag, and are fully assured of the knight's madness, that the narrator reveals that to Don Quijote "le parecid que ni el Buc^falo de Alejandro ni Babieca el del Cid con £l se 33 My description of the attitude toward reality in Don Quijote is essentially the same as that expressed by Richard L. Predmore in "El problema de la realidad en el Quijote," Nueva Revista de Filologia Hispltnica, 7 (1953), 489-98. In a later work, El mundo del Quijote (Madrid: Insula, 1958), Predmore modifies his interpretation. He continues to assert the certainty of reality in most cases, but also decides that reality is deliberately made uncertain in other cases "porque quiere [Cervantes] que el lector se de cuenta de lo diflcil que es acertar con ella entre burlas y apa- riencias engahosas" (p. Ill). The difference between these two interpretations is really the difference between Part I, where reality is always firmly defined in order to mock Don Quijote's illusions, and Part II, where reality is sometimes difficult to ascertain, thus illustrating the apologic theme of worldly deception, which is much more dominant in Part II. 134 igualaban" (I, 61; 34). Thus the rest of Don Quijote's remarks on the horse are all understood ironically because we have been given privileged information about the horse's real qualities. In the episode of the windmills, the same technique is used, but with the added corroboration of Sancho. At this point Sancho is still too stupid and too untouched by the knight's ideas to be anything but a reliable commentator. He very reasonably explains que aquellos que alii se parecen no son gigantes, sino molinos de viento, y lo que en ellos parecen brazos son las aspas, que, volteadas del viento, hacen andar la piedra del molino. (I, 190; 68) The narrator agrees with Sancho by saying, with no indica tion of irony, Pero 61 iba tan puesto en que eran gigantes, que ni ola las voces de su escudero Sancho, ni echaba de ver, aun- que estaba ya bien cerca, lo gue eran; ... (I, 191; 68. My emphasis) And in the next lines, "las grandes aspas comenzaron a mo- verse"; "embistio con el primero molino que estaba delante; ,..." (I, 191, 192; 68. My emphasis). The narrator is always careful to use the real names of objects. Whenever giants or damsels are mentioned, it is always with the qualification that this is Don Quijote's 135 perception. The narrator maintains a distance from the knight's fantasies, never giving them credibility by slip ping into their language. The only irony in these episodes is based on the read er's understanding that Don Quijote is not interpreting reality correctly. Ironic clues, such as extravagant lan guage, are present, but they all cluster around the knight's interpretations. The narrator's assertions of the physical reality of the situations are all carefully shielded from the ironic clues. The result is that the knight is seen as the ironic victim of his own hallucinations. Reality is always clearly defined, but Don Quijote is an unreliable interpreter of reality. The episode of the sheep is another instance. The narrator wastes no time in informing us that, even though Don Quijote and Sancho cannot yet see them, the two dust clouds are really sheep. ... la polvareda que habla visto la levantaban dos grandes manadas de ovejas y carneros, que por aquel mesmo camino de dos diferentes partes venian, las cuales, con el polvo, no se echaron de ver hasta que llegaron cerca. (II, 77; 134) The narrator would not trouble himself to insist on the real nature of the sources of the dust clouds this early in the episode were he not interested in having us certain of the 136 irony in Don Quijote's remarks, thus furthering the humor ously satiric effect of the episode. As Joaquin Casalduero has pointed out, the second clus ter of arms episodes in Part I affords Don Quijote more 34 materials for his fantasies than did the first set. Dust, darkness, or glinting sunlight are grist for the knight's imagination. Yet there is no indication that we are ex pected to agree with his interpretation of events. The episode of the fulling hammers comes the closest to leading the reader into Don Quijote's deceptive views by postponing the revelation of the source of the noise. Cer vantes increases the scope of the satire by making the reader a potential victim. On the one hand, we have been trained not to accept Don Quijote's absurd interpretation of events. Any mention of giants is immediately suspect, and a small warning has been given in the chapter heading: "De la jamcis vista ni oida aventura que con mUs poco peligro fu£ acabada de famoso caballero en el mundo, como la que acab6 el valeroso don Quijote de la Mancha" (II, 125; 148. My emphasis). 34 "... una serie de formas que sirvan de punto de arranque a la fantasia" (Sentido y forma del Quijote, p. 35) . 137 On the other hand, we do not yet know what the source of those noises' is. If we are gullible, like Sancho, we may temporarily suspend our disbelief of the knight. But if we do, we become numbered among the masses of foolishly credu lous readers of fiction mocked by this satire. For, when the truth is finally revealed, the narrator again sides clearly with reality and against the lies of the romances of chivalry. Don Quijote suffers the severest ridicule thus far in his career for his imaginings about the fulling ham mers. And actually, the satire has been so consistently developed up to this point that there is really no reason suddenly to start to believe Don Quijote's perceptions. If we are duped by this episode, then we are victims of the same ironies as are the knight and his squire. The ultimate irony, of course, is that many readers leave this book be lieving everything the knight has suggested, and never realizing that they are the unconscious victims of Cervan tes' irony. The last three arms-1 episodes occur under the influ ence of the Curate. The intervention of Princess Micomicona and the enchanted cage are means for getting Don Quijote home while humoring his fantasies. Since they are blatant inventions, there is no question of anyone but the knight 138 and Sancho being fooled by them. In fact, their credulity is tested rather severely as Dorotea fumbles in her story and is later caught kissing Don Fernando. Sancho is also suspicious of the enchantment, for he recognizes the Curate and Barber under their disguises. The only person fully duped in these cases is Don Quijote. The knight's self-deception is so complete and his madness so incorrigible that after his dream battle with the giant, in which he slays the wineskins, even the usual physical evidence of the error of his interpretation of events only convinces him more strongly that he lives under the influence of a malevolent enchanter, his ultimate, catch-all rationalization. The fantasy-reality or literature-life conflict is expressed somewhat differently in the arms-2 episodes. Here the emphasis is on Don Quijote's aggressiveness toward men. The objects and animals of the arms-1 episodes are passive, unable to deny Don Quijote's interpretation of their na ture. Men have several choices of how to deal with the knight's fantasies. In four cases the men are attacked for what amounts to their refusal to play Don Quijote's game. They will not enter into the terms of his fantasy. At the inn where the 139 knight guards his armor, one muleteer pays with a cracked skull for ignoring the obviously demented knight. In the same way, the monks accompanying the lady in a coach, the priests with the corpse, and the penitents with the statue of the Virgin are all attacked for refusing to interrupt their travel to respond in terms of the literary formalities demanded by Don Quijote. The opposite extreme of response is the case of the Biscayan, who is so foolish as to take Don Quijote seri ously. The Toledan merchants take a middle road, playing along with the knight1s ideas for their own amusement. Two men are not given the time to make a choice. The second muleteer who approaches as Don Quijote guards his armor is attacked without a sound of warning, and the barber with the glistening basin is rushed so rapidly that flight is his only chance. When the barber reappears later, in the fight over the baciyelmo, he is bewildered, but forced to function within Don Quijote's fantasy world because the other parti cipants support the knight, again for their own amusement. There are only three instances where the persons at tacked have a weapon for their self-defense: the merchants' muleteer, the Biscayan, and one of the penitents. Twice Don Quijote is resoundingly beaten, thus fulfilling the 140 tradition of satiric violence. Beating the victim is a traditionally indispensable satiric technique. It is a means of making ridicule physi cally manifest through violence. In speaking of other satires, Ronald Paulson points out the importance of vio lence in satire.35 The satirist who wishes to convey his indictment by a fictive rather than a discursive structure must (if his indictment is very severe) employ a physical encounter which ends in violence. The scenes noted above are all shockingly violent concatenations of action and conse quence; they are, in effect, symbolic actions that con vey the central meaning of the satire. (p. 10) Don Quijote and Sancho are beaten repeatedly in both the arms and love episodes. They are punished for the knight's arrogance and aggressiveness, which stem directly from his misapprehension of reality due to his literary madness. Reality refuses to be manipulated according to the notions of the romances, and strikes back, defeating the knight physically as it symbolically defeats his ideas. However, it is more common for the knight to inflict injuries on others. The satiric effect is achieved in these cases through Don Quijote's victory instead of through his defeat. 35 The Fictions of Satire (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Univ. Press, 1967). 141 All of his supposed victories are ironically undercut. In the arms-1 episodes it was by emphasizing the concrete physical reality to which his reactions were incongruous. Here, where people are being hurt, the satire is strength ened by the fact that none of these victims is armed, and, of course, all are innocent of the knight's fantastic accu sations . The emphasis on the injustice of the attack is par ticularly clear in the episode of the corpse. With a mix ture of ironic and non-ironic comments, the narrator under cuts Don Quijote's courage. Todos los encamisados era gente medrosa y sin armas, y asi, con facilidad en un momento dejaron la refriega y comenzaron a correr por aquel campo, con las hachas encendidas, que no parecxan sino % . los de las mascaras que en noche de regocijo y fiesta corren. Los enluta- dos asimesmo, revueltos y envueltos en sus faldamentos y lobas, no se podian mover; asi que, muy S . su salvo, don Quijote los apaled c i todos, ... (H> 109; 144) The figures are humorous as they dash about the countryside, but the main thrust of the ridicule is directed at the knight who attacks unarmed priests and mourners without any danger to himself. — No s§ como pueda ser eso de enderezar tuertos — dijo el Bachiller— , pues i . mi de derecho me hab€is vuelto tuerto, dejcindome una pierna quebrada, la cual no se verS. derecha en todos los dias de su vida; y el agravio que en mi hab^is deshecho ha sido dejarme agraviado de manera 142 que me quedar£ agraviado para siempre; y harta desventura ha sido topar con vos, que vais buscando aventuras. (II, 112-13; 146) Another Ironic device is employed in the case of the Biscayan. The ironic interruption of the mock-epic battle thoroughly destroys any sense of historicity or veracity that might be lingering in spite of the satiric tone of the scene itself. The self-importance of the knight is thrown into serious doubt by the fact that his supposed chronicler would find his armed combat so uninteresting as to end his volume in the middle of it. (Of course, this also satirizes the romances for their creation of false suspense.) Although I have included the two incidents involving the barber's basin under arms-2, they could with equal rea son be placed under arms-1. Although the barber is one of the innocents who is attacked, he is not really harmed, and, along with the innkeeper, he is one of the very few who are compensated for Don Quijote's damages. Although this episode is a favorite of the perspecti- vist critics, who find evidence here for the ambiguity of reality, the basin is treated no differently than any other physical object in the satire. When it is first seen, the narrator takes great pains to explain exactly what it is, how it got there, and why it shines so much. 143 Es, pues, el caso que el yelmo, y el caballo y Caba llero que don Quijote veiai era esto: que en aquel con- torno habia dos lugares, el uno tan pequeho, que ni tenia botica ni barbero, y el otro, que estaba junto A £1, si; y asi, el barbero del mayor servia al menor, en el cual tuvo necesidad un enfermo de sangrarse, y otro de hacerse la barba, para lo cual venia el barbero, y traia una ba- cia de az6far; y quiso la suerte que, al tiempo que venia, comenz6 A Hover, porque no se le raanchase el sombrero, que debia de ser nuevo, se puso la bacia sobre la cabeza; y, como estaba limpia, desde media legua relumbraba. Venia sobre un asno pardo, como Sancho dijo, y Ssta fu§ la ocasi6n que A don Quijote le parecio caballo rucio rodado, y caballero, y yelmo de oro; que todas las cosas que veia con mucha facilidad las acomodaba a sus desva- riadas caballerias y malandantes pensamientos. (II, 165- 66; 161-62) This is no less plausible an explanation than that given for the Biscayan lady in the coach, whom Don Quijote took for a damsel in distress. Venia en el coche, como despu^s se supo, una sehora viz- caina, que iba A Sevilla, donde estaba su marido, que pasaba A las Indias con un muy honroso cargo. (I, 20 0; 71) The tone in the two descriptions is equally serious and verisimilar. Even in the grand battle at the inn over the baciyelmo, the narrator makes it quite plain that, just as in all the other cases like the wineskins or the windmills, it is only Don Quijote who considers the basin to be a helmet. ... la albarda se quedo por jaez hasta el dia del Jui- cio, y la bacia por yelmo y la venta por castillo en la imaginaciSn de don Quijote. (IV, 182; 408) 144 The narrator himself never calls the objects by anything but their everyday names. When he reports the way that Don Qui jote sees them, it is always with a qualifying remark about the knight's fantasy, imagination, or dementia. No one else is deceived about the nature of the basin, with the exception of the marginal case represented by San- cho. His greed, the defining characteristic of his nature, tells him that he will profit more by accepting the knight's interpretation of events, for he will acquire the barber's harness, and will save his reputation with the knight, which may mean a governorship for him in the future. Yet even so, Sancho never firmly supports the question of the helmet, being satisfied to weasel through with the term baciyelmo. The other participants are quite clearly aware of the real ity of the basin, and are only humoring the knight's fantasy for the pleasure it affords. No one ever seriously credits his views, for their consistent attitude is that the madman was delivered to the inn expressly for their entertainment. If they did believe him, the Curate would not be so willing to pay the barber for his basin in order to maintain the joke. The narrator makes a continuing effort to keep us apprised of the truth which Don Quijote insists on 145 distorting, since the ironic incongruities of his imagined adventures would not otherwise be assured, and the satire would fail. The satire does not thereby deny that the senses may temporarily deceive us about reality, but it does deny that pastoral or chivalric romances can offer any acceptable guidelines for the interpretation of reality. The arms-3 episodes are unique because they deal with cases of real suffering. In the other arms episodes, the sufferings of damsels in distress or of wounded knights are purely imaginary. Although the suffering may be well de served, there is no doubt that the galley slaves are no happier in their plight than are Andres and Sancho. Beatings have been mentioned as a customary technique for expressing ridicule of a character and what he repre sents. The beating of Andres, however, serves an entirely different purpose. Although Andres is the victim of the blows, Don Quijote is the victim of the satire. In this way the adventure parallels that of the corpse. The encounter with Andres and his master is the first episode to demon strate Don Quijote*s devotion to chivalric justice, and it establishes a precedent for all his future failures to accomplish a just result. Ironically, he injures the inno cent and aids the guilty. Andres' case represents a 146 disastrous attempt to correct a real wrong on an individual level. Sancho's blanketing is a farcical exposure of the knight's inability to correct a jesting wrong on an indi vidual level. The galley slaves are an instance of a dis astrous attempt to correct an imagined wrong on a social level. The error of Don Quijote's intervention in Andr&s' case I is established twice, once immediately for the reader's 1 benefit, and once much later for the public chagrin of the knight. As soon as Don Quijote leaves the scene the narra- | i j itor reports with ironic hyperbole: r | 1 Y desta manera deshizo el agravio el valeroso don Qui jote; el cual, contentlsimo de lo sucedido, pareci^n- ; dole que habla dado feliclsimo y alto principio A sus j caballerlas, con gran satisfacidn de si mismo iba cami- i ! nando hacia su aldea, ... (I, 123; 50) j Later, Andres himself reports in dead earnest: De todo lo cual tiene vuestra merced la culpa; porque ! si se fuera su camino adelante y no viniera donde no se llamaban, ni se entremetiera en negocios ajenos, mi amo se contentara con darme una 6 dos docenas de azotes, y luego me soltara y pagara cuanto me debla. Mas como vuestra merced le deshonr6 tan sin propdsito, y le dijo , tantas villanlas, encendiosele la cdlera, y como no la I pudo vengar en vuestra merced, cuando se vi6 solo des- carg6 sobre ml el nublado, de modo, que me parece que no ser§ mSs hombre en toda mi vida. (Ill, 147-48; 274-75): Don Quijote's inability effectively to aid someone who is suffering a real injustice is the best means available for 147 satirizing the irrelevance of literary ideals in the real world. Furthermore, the intentions of the knight, however admirable, are worthless if they cannot be implemented. Satire characteristically judges by consequences rather than by causes or motives, which are too slippery; the final standard is an objective one like success or fail ure. (The satirist is, in fact, fond of showing up the subjective standard of motive or intention by the con crete fact of its consequence.) (Paulson, p. 10) There has never been a protagonist of a satire more accused by the consequences of his acts than Don Quijote. In fact, there is not a single arms episode where his intervention improves the situation. Where all is calm, he brings trou ble; where there is damage, he makes it worse. Sancho's blanketing at the inn is a parodic comment on Andres' situation. Here the tone is much lighter because Sancho is in no serious danger. He is being rattled more to frighten him than to hurt him, and Don Quijote is physi cally unable to intervene, although he cannot refrain from shouting insults anyway. Instead of leaving puffed with pride at his superficial success as in the previous case, Don Quijote leaves the inn shamed at his seeming paralysis and forced to call up his "enchanter" as an excuse. Another layer of irony prevails, because at the inn real justice is 148 covertly done when the innkeeper keeps the unsuspecting squire's saddlebags in payment for their lodging. The error of Don Quijote in freeing the galley slaves is so manifest according to the moral standards of the time that it was not necessary to press the point unduly during the course of the episode. Nevertheless, the usual precau tions are taken to cast it in the same mold as the other absurd actions. Sancho immediately asserts himself against the rash idea. He finds it both incomprehensible in moti vation and dangerous for them both. These are the same objections that he expressed to the adventure of the fulling hammers, when Don Quijote determined to battle those "giants." During the action, Don Quijote's behavior is labeled "regodeo" (II, 219; 177) and "donaire" (II, 221; 178) by the other characters, and Pasamonte is given the usual remarks on the knight's madness: ... estando ya enterado que don Quijote no era muy cuerdo, pues tal disparate habia acometido como el de querer darles libertad, ... (II, 227; 180) ;Finally, Don Quijote incriminates himself through his own ^confusion about what he is doing. It is so unthinkable a deed that it even partially penetrates the layers of his madness, and he responds with a greater willingness than ordinary to follow Sancho's advice to retreat. 149 As with Andres, the deed comes back to shame him pub licly. The Curate chastises him indirectly. Y es lo bueno que es pdblica fama por todos estos con- tornos que los que nos saltearon son de unos galeotes que dicen que libert6, casi en este mesmo sitio, un hombre tan valiente, que S pesar del comisario y de las guardas, los solt6 A todos; y sin duda alguna, £1 debia de estar fuera de juicio, 6 debe de ser tan grande bellaco como ellos, 6 algtan hombre sin alma y sin con- ciencia, pues quiso soltar al lobo entre las ovejas, S la raposa entre las gallinas, A la mosca entre la miel: quiso defraudar la justicia, ir contra su rey y senor natural, pues fu£ contra sus justos mandamientos; quiso, digo, quitar S . las galeras sus pies, poner en alboroto i . la Santa Hermandad, que habla muchos ahos que repo- saba; quiso, finalmente, hacer un hecho por donde se pierda su alma y no se gane su cuerpo. Habiales contado Sancho al Cura y al Barbero la aven- tura de los galeotes, que acab6 su amo con tanta gloria suya, y por esto cargaba la mano el Cura refiri^ndola, por ver lo que hacia 6 decia don Quijote; al cual se le mudaba la color a cada palabra, y no osaba decir que £1 habia sido el libertador de aquella buena gente. (Ill, 103-04; 258) Although this might seem at first glance to be a complicated passage to interpret because of the mixture of ironic and non-ironic commentary, there is actually no difficulty if we remember what the satire is attacking--a credulous belief that literary extravagances can serve as a means of inter preting and responding to reality— and in whom this attack i 1 is personified— Don Quijote. As Sheldon Sacks points out, in a work organized as satire, "the only relevant satiric relationship is that which ridicules the external object" 150 (p. 43) . Thus the comments are easily understood according to how they serve to ridicule Don Quijote and his imposition of literary standards on life. i The Curate has by this time shown his love of a joke in his handling of Sancho's mission to Dulcinea and in setting in motion the ploy of Princess Micomicona. His attitude ^toward Don Quijote is composed of astonishment at the knight's actions, a desire to help him recover his senses, and the desire to entertain himself at the knight's expense so long as the madness lasts. Thus, his chastisement is delivered indirectly through the accusation of a pretended robbery for the pleasure of seeing Don Quijote squirm with embarrassment. Don Quijote is the victim both of the irony of the Curate's pretended ignorance about the identity of the rascal who freed the galley slaves, and of the serious criticism which is delivered within his ironic speech. The Curate jests a bit with his analogies ("la mosca entre la miel"), but his statements beginning "quiso defraudar la justicia" carry no overtones of irony. The judgment against ;Don Quijote is reinforced in the return to the ironically ( 'mocking narrative tone with the usual hyperbole "con tanta I gloria suya." And, finally, Don Quijote tacitly admits a I sense of guilt, because "se le mudaba la color c i cada 151 palabra." Don Quijote can get away with this illegal action with out being arrested for two reasons: he is mad, therefore not responsible for his actions (the excuse the Curate uses !when the Santa Hermandad tries to arrest him at the inn), j and this is comic fiction, not life. The tone of the satire, which is maintained on a humorous rather than bitter level, would be disrupted by Don Quijote's arrest. The enchanted cage is more compatible with the tone and with the working i put of the form of the satire, since it turns the knight's I pwn literature against him. As I mentioned earlier, the dramatized conflict between Don Quijote's literary fantasies and unyielding physical reality is only one half of the manifestation of Part I's major theme. Truth is also explored on the narrative level through the contrast between fiction and history. The pri mary device for exposing the purely fictional nature of Don Quijote in order to satirize the romances masquerading as chronicles is Cide Hamete Benengeli. He serves as an ironic t device just as the friend did in the Prologue. His charac terization is developed in the same way as that of Don Qui- i t 'jote, through the ironic exaggeration of the features under jattack. First, if the book were really a chronicle, the narra- I tor would have complete control of his materials. He would need only to sift and report factual events of the past. Benengeli, however, is given no control whatsoever of the j ! materials of the story. He is subservient to the needs of j the satire instead of being a functional narrator. Rather than contributing to our understanding of the book, his jdivision into Chapters and Parts conflicts with it, a sign j i j that the author is playing with our willingness to believe j a fictional creation. j Benengeli is not even introduced until Chapter 9, when : ; j jhe functions as an ironic device for interrupting and de- i i i yeaning the mock-heroic battle with the Biscayan. The Moor < jis almost an afterthought that turns into an admirable means' i of focusing the conflict between history and fiction. That 'the device of ironic interruption is common in the book -helps to place Benengeli in his proper perspective. t The first narrator often intrudes into the flow of i I j levents with a remark designed to subject the situation to j I ridicule. Depending on the individual case, the remark it- j I self may be either factual, in order to ironize a fantasy, i ! or ironically fantastic, in order to expose exaggeration. j The first instance occurs in Chapter 2 when Don Quijote i imagines an address to the dawn for the forthcoming chroni- ! i i cle of his deeds. The ornate address is abruptly broken up j 'by the narrator's comment, "Y era la verdad que por §1 [el campo de Montiel] caminaba" (I, 71-72). This ironically establishes the falseness of all the other elements of the overwrought speech by focusing on the only truthful part of .. 36 it. The break in the fight with the Biscayan is, of course, the most prominent example, but it does not work to estab lish the importance of the supposed chronicler. By force fully reminding us that this is only literature, contrived i and artificial, the interruption makes us aware of the j i [interdependence of the elements of the satire. No one I i i , satiric device truly controls another. They function in jconjunction, at the direction of the author, for the maxi- t | I mum satiric effect. The narrative interruption cuts away , I the importance of the mock-heroic battle, but the battle, in turn, surrounds and puts into perspective the actual i I unimportance of the pseudo-historian. Additional evidence of Benengeli's merely superficial importance is his conspicuous absence from long sections of 3 6 Some additional examples of satiric interruption can be found in Chapters 4, 7, 18, 19, 20, 24, 46. : 1541 i | text. He is totally absent from the three discussions of literature, and almost entirely absent from the love epi sodes . In those sections the Curate takes over as an ex tension of the narrative voice. The Curate's role as com- i mentator is larger than Benengeli's and probably of more i significance to the work as a whole than that of the more notorious Moor. It will be discussed in the next section. ! ! As a characterized narrator, Benengeli is stereo- typically the opposite of all one would expect of a chroni- Icler. This is established by the first narrator, who intro- ! duces Benengeli in the densest piece of irony we encounter 'after the Prologue. Chapter 9 opens with a predominantly ironic passage on the improbable episodes of romances. Next, the search for the rest of the manuscript is drama tized, drawing out the parody, for the image of the narrator i 'stumbling upon these "valuables chronicles" in the market- » place is comparable in parodic value to the use of a drama tized chat with a friend for a prologue. Both reverse the 1 expectations bred by a long, artificial tradition. Where the romances encouraged the sense of historicity through the use of a chronicler, Cervantes uses the same technique for 37 I precisely the opposite effect. It is a recurrent reminder: i I that the book is a work of the imagination, however realis tic it may seem in some respects. i i A side effect of Benengeli's presence is a discrepancy of time frames noted by Gilbert Highet and others. I Is he [Don Quijote] a contemporary eccentric, who is crackbrained because he wants to live in the past? or is he a knight who lived several centuries in the past and was at that time eccentric and ineffective? (Highet, Anatomy of Satire, p. 116) I ! At the beginning of the work, it is reasonably clear that I the narrator is speaking of the recent past. The evidence !of the beginning of Part II also places the story in the contemporary period. The discrepancy prevails only after Benengeli is introduced. His person, the existence of old 1 i documents, and previously published chronicles indicate an ! older time frame. Yet, none of the appurtenances of 37 Cf. Rabelais' approach to the same topic in "The Author's Prologue" to Pantagruel, Book II: "Therefore, to make an end of my prologue, I offer myself, body and soul, tripe and bowels, to a hundred thousand basket-loads of fine devils in case I lie in so much as a single word in the whole of this History. And, similarly, may St. An thony's fire burn you, . . . in case you do not firmly be lieve everything that I tell you in this present Chronicle" (trans. J. M. Cohen [Baltimore: Penguin Books, 1955], pp. 168-69. Rabelais' emphasis). A comparison of Cervantine and Rabelaisan satire would be a»fruitful topic for further study. ! 156 i supposedly historical evidence is meant to be taken seri ously, as I have pointed out. All of these are merely ironic devices. Their very inconsistency with the origi nally established time frame is but another level of the i jokes perpetrated against Benengeli. Their transparently fraudulent character is part of the parody. This is another; example of inconsistency in the service of the total effect 'of the satire. ! I j The translator, of course, adds another level of un- ! certainty to the veracity of the chronicle. He is another | t ; | filter, but more than that, he is a Moor and, therefore, j i • | : jprobably also a liar as Benengeli is implied to be. For the' i i crux of the parody here is that this "true history" was I supposedly originally recorded by "su autor arSbigo, siendo j muy propio de los de aquella nacidn ser mentirosos; ..." ] I (I, 221; 78). Benengeli is also insulted with the epithet l I , "galgo" (I, 222; 78). The first narrator then proceeds to 1 criticize the Moor for insufficiently using "la pluma en las; alabanzas de tan buen caballero, ..." (I, 222; 78). In thisj one ironic comment he simultaneously ridicules both Don Quijote and Benengeli, the former for his chivalric pre tensions, the latter for his pretended restraint as a chronicler. Insofar as Benengeli is characterized within 157 the work, he is a victim of ironic ridicule. At the same I time, his reported narrative comments are an ironic device for ridiculing other figures. There is no attempt to make Benengeli a reliable narra tor. On the contrary, he is made a figure of fun, for whom the labels reliable and unreliable are equally irrelevant, 38 since he is not a functioning narrator. Instead, he is an ironic victim, whose infrequent mention is one of the means for ironizing the authenticity of romances. Cuenta el sabio Cide Hamete Benengeli que ... (II, 7; 111) 1 Cuenta Cide Hamete Benengeli, autor arSbigo y man- chego, en esta gravisima, altisonante, minima, dulce § imaginada historia, que ... (II, 195; 171) 38 Ruth El Saffar has frequently asserted that Benengeli; is an unreliable narrator in the Wayne Booth sense. This .arises from her treatment of the work as a novel, preclud ing the acceptance of Benengeli as an ironic device. Her arguments appear in "Distance and Control in Don Quijote: A Study of Narrative Technique," Diss. Johns Hopkins Univ. 1966; "The Function of the Fictional Narrator in Don Qui jote ," Modern Language Notes, 83 (March 1968), 164-77; | "Development and Reorientation in the Works of Cervantes," Modern Language Notes, 88 (March 1973), 203-14. El Saffar i has also reviewed John J. Allen's book, Don Quixote: Hero j or Fool? A Study in Narrative Technique (Gainesville: Univ. of Florida Press, 1969), where he asserts Benengeli's reliability, in Modern Language Notes, 85 (1970), 269-73. Arthur Efron discusses Benengeli as an unreliable narrator in the previously cited "Don Quixote" and the Dulcineated World. 158 ... el sabio y atentado historiador Cide Hamete Benen- v geli. (Ill, 43; 236) Benengeli is treated just like Don Quijote. There has been no evidence to show why we should consider him a sage, any i more than there was any evidence for Don Quijote's valor when he was first introduced. So the application of the I terms is instantly ironic. The middle example is ironic I within itself, for the terms "minima" and "imaginada" con- | I tradict the supposed gravity and authority of the historian.! i The use of hyperbole ("gravisima") has consistently been ^ jironic in Part I. The other method for undercutting the story's sup posedly historical origin is ironic comments from the first i narrator, or comments by the knight that we perceive as ironic. ... segGn se cuenta en el discurso desta verdadera historia ... (I, 327; 111) Felicisimos y venturosos fueron los tiempos donde se ech6 al mundo el audacisimo caballero don Quijote de la Mancha, pues por haber tenido tan honrosa determinacion como fue el querer resucitar y volver al mundo la ya j perdida y casi muerta orden de la andante caballeria, gozamos ahora en nuestra edad, necesitada de alegres i entretenimientos, no s6lo de la dulzura de su verda dera historia, sino de los cuentos y episodios della, que, en parte, no son menos agradables y artificiosos y verdaderos que la misma historia; la cual, prosiguien- do su rastrillado, torcido y aspado hilo, cuenta que ... (Ill, 45; 236) ; 159 I ... cuando saiga d luz la verdadera historia de mis famosos hechos ... (I, 71; 36) In the second example the identification of the knight and his chronicler as ironic victims of the same type is made I explicit. j In conclusion, the arms episodes develop the satire of the fantastic chivalric romances by attacking their un- , realistic adventures, unbelievable characters, overwrought | i i ^language, claims of historical authenticity, and the readersj ! .who are foolish enough to take them seriously. The three t i main methods in this attack are the consistently serious i presentation of solid reality, against which the chimaeras i of the romances cannot prevail; the consistently ironic t I presentation of the idea that this is historical truth, in j part through the ironic presentation of its pseudo chronicler; and the ironic and serious commentary ridiculing I Don Quijote and other characters who succumb to literary ' t delusions. All of these elements combine to satirize what i is untrue about fiction in general, and, in particular, whati is untrue, unrealistic, and offensive about the romances of chivalry. The Love Episodes As a group, the love episodes differ most obviously 160 from the arms episodes in the relative absence of Don Qui- jote. He dominated every adventure which parodied a fic tional military exploit. But these episodes parody amorous i excesses in pastoral as well as chivalric romances. Don Quijote"s role as amorous knight is a consistent aspect of i his parody of the chivalric romances. Were he also to assume a pastoral guise, the minimal level of verisimilitude i necessary to the success of the satire would be strained, jit is more effective to turn that role over to more purely i pastoral figures, such as Grisbstomo and Marcela or Leandra ! iand Eugenio. Other characters, especially Dorotea and Car- ! I Idenio, function in both the chivalric and pastoral worlds and serve as a bridge between the two. ! i That there is only one set of characters (Don Quijote . and Sancho) fully devoted to the parody of chivalric litera ture, in comparison with the large number of couples devoted i 1 to the parodies and moral tales on the subject of love, is j an indication of one of the ideas expressed by Part I. For ' the military exploits of an Amadis are much further from thej i common experience of men than is the event of falling in love. It is not very likely that the readers of romances will take it into their heads to pursue feats of arms as Don Quijote does. Even the innkeeper who is so enthusiastic 161 about the military adventures (Chapter 32) recognizes that it is an inappropriate response to real life. Hence, in the book it is manifested only once, and then only in a madman. I I On the other hand, love is an experience common to all 1 people. Thus, the amorous aspect of the romances is shown to influence a much larger number of readers in their re- \ I I sponse to life. The degree to which the lovers imitate the ! i i literature varies according to their degree of sophistica- \ i jtion. But as there is little difference in the manifesta- ( tion of amorous acts from the two kinds of romances, aside ! I from their physical settings, there is no particular effort i i made to distinguish the effects of reading about pastoral i t lovers from those of reading about chivalric lovers. They J both tend to produce the same three essential symptoms: : composition of trite poetry, self-exile, and irrational acts verging on (and occasionally achieving) madness. These are i the three main points which are emphasized in the satiric attack, for they all bring out the artificial and unrealis- I tic nature of these responses to life. Positive value is s - J f given to those instances when a practical and active ap proach is taken to solving a love problem, in contrast to the criticism heaped on those instances of literary, pas sive, and inappropriate responses to love problems. It is : 162 also in the love episodes where we get indications that the !satiric attack is directed against contemporary social in stitutions which have altogether too much in common with the more stylized aspects of the way of life in the romances. * j In the center of the first half of Part I we find Don j Quijote's policy statement on the Golden Age, the pastoral j I love episode of Grisdstomo and Marcela, the parody of pas- j toral love in the episode of the Yanguesan mares, and the J ! 39 parody of chivalric love with Maritornes at the inn. This* I , 'cluster of events anticipates the composition of the central episodes of the second half, where Don Quijote's second j major policy speech, a sequence of love episodes, and a j parody of chivalric love is found. ; The first cluster opens with Don Quijote and Sancho sitting with a group of goatherds in a rustic setting. As in the arms episodes, the use of typical literary elements I turned slightly askew, or exaggerated, or presented ironi cally establishes that the episode is parodic. Instead of i the usual shepherds, we have the more plebeian goatherds. j The object that arouses Don Quijote's fancy to the pitch of a speech is one of the more overworked literary symbols for 39 Joaquin Casalduero pointed this out in Sentido y forma del Quijote, pp. 33-34. I the natural life: a handful of acorns. The speech itself 'is a mockery of the classical principles of rhetoric, and >11 of its philosophical ideas are cliches. It is enclosed by mocking, critical comments that serve as a warning against taking the knight's words seriously. No entendlan los cabreros aquella jerigonza de escu- j deros y de caballeros andantes, ... (I, 247; 85) j J Toda esta large arenga (que se pudiera muy bien excu- ! ; sar) dijo nuestro caballero, porque las bellotas que le J i dieron le trujeron H la memoria la edad dorada, y anto- j I jdsele hacer aquel in&til razonamiento $ . los cabreros, j que, sin respondelle palabra, embobados y suspensos, le ■ estuvieron escuchando. (I, 254-55; 87) : Mary Mackey's analysis of the speech has been mentioned previously. I shall cite her major points here. The speech! I is flawed because the knight assumes without justification ! that he and his audience share the same premises in ap- ' proaching the subject; "ignores his listeners" (p. 53); fails to employ the appropriate devices for securing the approval of his audience; fails to develop his ideas logi- I cally; offers very few and very poor arguments for his case;; changes direction in the middle of the speech; "sacrifices ^ clarity to embellishment" (p. 60) with "circumlocutions . . . neologisms, archaisms, and classical allusions" (p. 59); employs pleonasms and ludicrous, combinations of ideas. In sum, the speech fits neither the subject nor the 164 ■audience, and is therefore indecorous by rhetorical stand ards . Mackey finds that "The surest indication of his mad- i ; ness is his indecorousness" (p. 63). The motif of "la amorosa pestilencia" introduced in the speech is instantly brought to life in the arrival of j the lovelorn goatherd Antonio. He is only the first of the''j I long sequence of lovers, including Don Quijote, who are in- j i volved in a love relationship filled with obstacles, and 1 the parody will stress the artificiality of these obstacles.> i I Antonio is asked to sing a song which is well liked by I ; the local people. The accolade serves as a warning to the , reader, for the artistic judgment of audiences and readers has been a subject of the satire since the Prologue. The . lyrics which follow confirm our suspicions. They reflect j i the same level of literary triteness we found in Don Qui- ; j jote's speech just before. In the reader's eyes, the song both parodies the conventions of love lyrics and satirizes those who indulge in a literary (i.e., inappropriate, im practical) response to an emotional event in their lives. ; The choice of the girl's name, Olalla, is a comic ex aggeration of the musical sounding, artificial names used in such poetry. The first stanza can be seen as an ironic reference to Don Quijote's position with Dulcinea. 165 1 — Yo s£, Olalla, que me adoras, Puesto que no me lo has dicho Ni aun con los ojos siquiera, Mudas lenguas de amorios. i (I, 257? 88) I The situation derives from the convention of the powerful, i capricious woman found in the later romances. Hans-Jorg | i Neuschafer discusses this element of the parody in Per Sinn j der Parodie im Don Quijote, where he cites from Palmerin de j I Inglaterra. I i ! Fernandos beklagt sich iiber die Liebe: "que las condi- ciones del amor son estas: tratar mal A quien no lo ' merece, favorecer A quien no conoce su bien, negar sus enganos A quien dellos se satisface." (p. 21) I 1 ! ;In Don Quijote the love lament is parodied by removing its cause. Here the women do not intentionally torture their> , 'admirers. On the contrary, the men make fools of themselves"? by arrogantly throwing themselves at women who are honestly ? i I uninterested in their advances. After they are rejected, > I the men then ironically complain of the woman's hardhearted-, ness or neglect, when in truth the woman is the one who is justified in complaining against the man who is pressing his| love fantasies on her. Antonio's poem serves to set the stage for the following episode, where exactly the same situation is dramatized. The parodie elements of the poem include the cliche ! 166 } •references to "el bianco pecho de risco," the ironically brief reference to "las alabanzas / Que de tu belleza he dicho," the excessive attention (two stanzas) to the trivial I point that Antonio wears nice clothes to impress her, and 1 ■the devotion of two stanzas to a series of insults which parody conventional praises while emphasizing and overwhelm-j ing the inadequate preceding praise. Finally, there are I i two rather indecorous sexual references: i i Que el fin de mis esperanzas Ha de ser cual imagino. (I, 257; 88) I No te quiero yo d mont6n, | Ni te pretendo y te sirvo Por lo de barragania; Que mas bueno es mi designio. (I, 259; 89) j The choice of words in the poem ("gimio," "barrangania") is I hardly compatible with the supposedly ideal nature of his ^ove. Antonio's lament is immediately followed by the intro duction of the story of Grisdstomo's death, a still more ; ! extreme case of the same malady: men stubbornly bewailing a contrived situation. Grisdstomo immediately falls under suspicion as a satiric vehicle because he is identified as a scholar, a group attacked in the Prologue. He embodies more thoroughly than Antonio the parody of pastoral 167| romances because he is acting in a more extremely artificial way than the goatherd. Whereas Antonio is a goatherd by birth and rank, Grisdstomo has cast off his proper role in ^ife to follow Marcela as a shepherd. He displays other | literature-related excesses in casting off his religion, j I insisting on a funeral with a tone "de gentiles," and having; done all this for a love that is not reciprocated. As the pastoral lovers approach closer to madness v. I i (Antonio, Grisostomo, and finally Cardenio), they display i ' I more similarities to Don Quijote. The relationship builds 1 gradually to the explicit madness of Cardenio, but they all share the characteristic literary attitudes toward love. /j i The identification is made obvious here by the remark that | I Don Quijote "todo lo mils de la noche se le pasd en memorias j de su senora Dulcinea, d imitacidn de los amantes de Mar- i cela" (I, 278-79; 95). This is irony compounding irony; f . : men imitate pastoral literature and are in turn imitated by V a madman imitating chivalric literature. The same situation I applies later to Cardenio. By contrast, Sancho behaves j sensibly by going to sleep "no como enamorado desfavorecido,; sino como hombre molido i . coces" (I, 279; 95) . When the company reaches the scene of the funeral, after the comic interlude of Don Quijote’s argument with [ 168 t ■Vivaldo, the tone turns serious. In order to reinforce and clarify the satiric message, the narrator exchanges his satiric mask for a solemn one. This is the first of five ,such instances in Part I. Each comprises a unit that can be extracted from the text as an apologue. The change of j » tone is complicated by the fact that the two styles must 'overlap to provide continuity, yet any satiric contamination, of the apologue would result in a failure of the message. j jln this first case, the situation is relatively simple and ! 1 > i brief. Gris6stomo's death is the primary means of control- ! ling the tone. Although he is subject to ridicule for his i i 'literary excesses, the setting of the funeral prevents any , I 'undesired suspicions of humor from creeping in. , I i , First, the seriousness of tone is established with j Ambrosio's eulogy. It serves as a buffer between the pre- , I ceding comic passage and the succeeding core of the apo- i , i logue, Marcela's speech. Although Ambrosio's eulogy is ! serious, its message is not the correct one, so, in this sense too, it is transitional. The eulogy exposes its in correct attitude via the use of conventional, excessive praise, indicating Ambrosio's literary contamination. Ese es el cuerpo de Grisostomo, que fue tinico en el ingenio, s6lo en la cortesia, extremo en la gentileza, fenix en la amistad, magnlfico sin tasa, grave sin presuncidn, alegre sin bajeza, y, finalmente, primero en todo lo que es ser bueno, y sin segundo en todo lo que fud ser desdichado. (I, 302; 102) I I \ Vivaldo speaks with the voice of reason, the same role he played earlier with the knight, as he points to the main I I criticism of the lover: that he was one of "los que & | I rienda suelta corren por la senda que el desvariado amor I ! ' ■delante de los ojos les pone” (I, 303-04; 103. My empha- ! ! i sis). There is no indication that the text is criticizing j love per se, any more than the arms episodes criticized war.j ,The emphasis in both cases is on the mad excesses which are 'inspired by inverisimilar literature. The evidence would 'seem instead to support sensible moderation, the classical golden mean. j I The sample of Grisdstomo's poetry confirms this inter- j pretation, for it resembles Antonio's song in its trite ; i images, although it shows more education in the execution, with its undigested lumps of classical references. A par ticularly ironic example is the second stanza, where all the conventional sources of sad noises are listed in search for i "nuevos modos" (I, 310; 104) for describing his feelings. ! The method mocks the meaning. There are also the grotesque reference to "Pedazos de las miseras entranas" (I, 308; 104) and the declaration "Pertinaz estard en mi fantasia" ! 170 I I (I, 312; 105) which underlines the similarity to Don Qui- i ,jote's procedures. And, finally, the whole poem is undercut by the cold irony of Vivaldo's observation que no le parecia que conformaba con la relacidn que dl habla oldo del recato y bondad de Marcela, porque en ella se quejaba Grisdstomo de celos, sospechas y de ausencia, todo en perjuicio del buen crddito y buena fama de Marcela. (I, 315; 107) i i Ambrosio confirms the justice of Vivaldo's criticism, and j Marcela will soon supply more evidence that Grisdstomo was j so influenced by his passion and his literary experience jthat, like Don Quijote, he tried to impose his distorted j l ifantasies on unyielding reality (cf. arms-1). j Marcela1s defense is a paragon of clear, straight- j forward, persuasive rhetoric. It contrasts with Don Qui- jote's speech on the Golden Age, Grisdstomo's poetry, and Ambrosio's eulogy, which appear even more overblown and I inappropriate by comparison. Mary Mackey uses Marcela*s 1 i speech as an example of what Don Quijote's should be but is not: precise, symmetrical, clear, logical, attentive to the audience, and convincing. Marcela corrects the exaggerated i accusations about her behavior, defends her innocent way- of life, and points the moral of this apologue. A los que he enamorado con la vista he desengahado con las palabras; y si los deseos se sustentan con esperanzas, I 171 | no habiendo yo dado alguna d Grisdstomo, ni d . otro al- i guno, en fin, de ninguno dellos, bien se puede decir que antes le mat6 su porfia que mi crueldad. (I, 321; 109) ... si 61, con todo este desengano, quiso porfiar contra la esperanza y navegar contra el viento, <Lqud mucho que se anegase en la mitad del golfo de su desatino? (I, 322; 109) ! Que si c i Gris6stomo mat6 su impaciencia y arrojado deseo, I cpor qud se ha de culpar mi honesto proceder y recato? I (I, 323; 109-10) i That her arguments are unassailable is confirmed by her; I (listeners, who were "admirados, tanto de su discrecidn como I !de su hermosura, ..." (I, 324; 110). Her conclusions empha size the theme of disillusionment, the only cure for the j illusions of Grisostomo, and those of Don Quijote. Disillu-■ sionment holds the same implications here as it did for the , I picaro anti-hero, that is, the "awakening from the falsity j of one's dream" (Green, IV, 49). Grisdstomo's dream is the I fantasies induced by the romance literature, and Marcela directs his friends, and Don Quijote, toward the truth of reality. The theme is not worked out in Part I, except for I some secondary characters who do come to an awakening from I their delusions (Fernando, et al.). Don Quijote does not 1 participate in the movement toward reality, sanity, and higher values until Part II, but then the theme of disillu sionment dominates all else. Part I merely gives an indica- ; 172 ' i 'tion of what can be done with the motif. } i i Returning to Marcela's speech, the episode is given two final ironic twists as some of the listeners exhibit Gri- sSstomo's disease in spite of her appeals to reason, and the i proposed epitaph likewise disregards the manifest truth of j 1 Marcela's nature by calling her, in literary phraseology, "una esquiva hermosa ingrata." Evasive is the least appro- ! priate adjective to describe this woman. We accept her wordj l jas truth against the words and deeds of the other characters i because throughout her appearance every piece of evidence ! i 'has indicated her honesty and innocence, whereas the evi- j dence associated with the men who accuse her has all been tainted with the influence of the romances. Having established on a serious level the contrast * 'between senseless literary fantasies and sensible human i reality, the narrator brings us back to the humorous devel- i opment of this theme. The care with which he overlaps the two styles, serious and comic, is noteworthy. Even after Gris6stomo's story has been introduced, Don Quijote contin- j ues to dominate events until the party arrives at the scene of the funeral. The same moral voice, Vivaldo, provides commentary on both men. And, after Marcela finishes her speech, but before Ambrosio reads the epitaph, Don Quijote 173 reasserts himself in his chivalric role. Thus, the two events and the two styles are interlocked by overlapping segments at either end of the apologue. , Pastoral love is seen comically in the episode of the ■Yanguesan mares, where Rocinante is the parodic equivalent ; of Grisdstomo and the mares the unwilling Marcela. In the apologue it was appropriate that the moral be delivered in | i a speech. In the satire the appropriate moral device is ! i ( jbeating the victim, and Rocinante, Sancho, and Don Quijote I ■all suffer for the horse 1s.effrontery. i These two love episodes are juxtaposed with a third at | i the inn, where Don Quijote himself finally acts out the role' I I of importunate and rejected suitor in chivalric trappings. The punishment is the same, a beating, but the method of arriving at it is a bit more elaborate. Again the male presses his attentions on the unwilling female, but first he imagines that she is pursuing him. I I ... vencida de su gentileza, se habia enamorado ddl y | prometido que aquella noche, 3 furto de sus padres, vendrla 3 yacer con dl una buena pieza; y teniendo toda esta quimera, que dl se habia fabricado, por firme y valedera, se comenzd 3 acuitar y 3 pensar en el peli- groso trance en que su honestidad se habia de ver, y propuso en su corazdn de no cometer alevosla a su senora Dulcinea del Toboso, ... (II, 39-40; 122) Despite his vow to Dulcinea, he very aggressively catches : 174 i Maritornes: "... la asi6 fuertemente de una muneca, y i tirSndola hacia si, sin que ella osase hablar palabra, la hizo sentar sobre la cama" (II, 41; 122). Then he fancies .point by point the conventional beauties of this maiden, whom we know to be the furthest thing from a princess, "las ! cuales pudieran hacer vomitar $ . otro que no fuera harriero; ..." (II, 42; 122). Displeased with the knight's advances, , I I Maritornes estaba congojadlsima y trasudando, de ! verse tan asida de don Quijote, y, sin entender ni estar i atenta I las razones que le decla, procuraba, sin hablar palabra, desasirse. (II, 43; 123) [The farce concludes with the customary pummeling. 1 i > The second section of love episodes occurs in the exact; i center of the book. Again the elements of pastoral litera- j ture, despairing love, and poetry surface in a cluster of J episodes involving Don Quijote, Cardenio, and Dorotea. In ; this case, Cardenio and Dorotea both combine in themselves I the opposing elements of madness and sanity which were ear- i i lier divided between Grisdstomo and Marcela. However, each of the new lovers is dominated by the same characteristic which was the total feature of the earlier character of the i same sex. Cardenio is distinguished by his fits of madness, 17 5 40 Dorotea by her intelligence. I The pastoral incidents are introduced almost in the i same way as before. Don Quijote and Sancho meet a goatherd, I |and hear part of the story from him before meeting Cardenio. i The woman arrives later, and is an unexpected addition to \ the scene, like Marcela. An additional surprise derives I from the interlocking of the two stories. The main varia- J 'tion in the first encounter with Cardenio is that his be- j ! i jlongings are the first source of information. * Among Cardenio1s luggage is found some poetry. The ; sample read by the knight is a sonnet, one of the most I artificial of poetic forms, which contains the conventional i elements of a love lament. It uses a poetic substitution, .Chloe, for the woman's name, complains of her cruelty, hard-| ness, and beauty, and promises his death. The first two i devices were found in Antonio's poem, the second two in I ; Grisdstomo's. Don Quijote's praise of the poem must be \ understood ironically, because his whole character and all of his actions are derived from his inability to judge the quality and truth of literature. In addition, his relia- 40 Cardenio is also distinguished by his cowardice. Salvador de Madariaga points this out in Don Quixote: An Introductory Essay in Psychology (1934; rpt. London: Oxford Univ. Press, 1966). bility has been impugned throughout the arms episodes. Sancho's remark is more apt. "Por esta trava — dijo Sancho— no se puede saber nada" (II, 241; 184). That is, I ;the poem is so stereotypical as to be meaningless. The love ' j .letter which follows contains no more information or origi- \ nality of thought than did the poem. We are spared the i I other documents on the same theme. | i The sight of Cardenio, who has decided "cumplir cierta I penitencia" (II, 252; 189) inspires a mixture of pity and I Iridicule. Cardenio is more to be pitied than Don Quijote because he was originally a handsome, well-to-do, intelli- j : gent man, who has let his failure to act decisively lead him' I into escapism in the form of mock-literary madness. By con trast, Don Quijote is never pitiful, because he is old, ugly, a poor country gentleman, and a clumsy failure whose i ,acts all come out wrong. Physical appearance is an impor- ! I tant key to identifying who is a victim of the satire and who is a character in an apologue. Value judgments corre late directly with appearance. When Cardenio is ragged and dirty, he is a satiric figure. When he puts on Dorotea's nice clothing, he steps into the world of apologue. We have been prepared for this transition by what we know of his origin and by the fact that he is never ridiculed for his ' 177 madness in the way the knight is. This is because Carde- nio's mad acts at least have a basis in his own real exper ience, whereas Don Quijotefs are entirely manufactured from his books. This also explains the less biting criticism i i applied to Gris6stomo. Nevertheless, the madness and its i literary manifestations link the knight and Cardenio. The ! similarity of the figures is mockingly expressed by assign- ! ! ing Cardenio the epithet, "El ROto de la mala Figura (como ! i . don Quijote el de la Triste)" (II, 258; 191. Cervantes' ' I emphasis). Of course, the way in which the comparison is Lade implies that Don Quijote is as much "el Roto de la ! ! ! I I triste figura" as "el Caballero de la triste Figura." i In his double role as character in satire and apologue,' Cardenio serves as a structural transition. He leads into the furthest extent of Don Quijote1s madness by suggesting the penance, which becomes the climax of the first half. I The qualities of the two penances are alike in that both men, become "como bruto animal" (II, 261; 192). This is the i strongest indictment of the effect of this literature, and i I the knight will dramatize it during the penance by perform ing the most degrading acts in his career. Cardenio leads into the apologues, which comprise the core of the second half, through the spreading effects of the deeds recounted 178 in his story. Structurally, his transitional influence is emphasized by the fact that his story requires two tellings to be complete, and they surround Don Quijote's penance. The first telling leads into the climax of the first half, the second into Dorotea's story and the expansion into apo- i logue of the second half. ! I In line with this dual position, the first half of i Cardenio's story contains satiric signals which are not ; present in the second half of the story. These are the 1 [stipulation about interruptions, which brings in the com parison with Sancho's earlier interminable joke, and the I I interruption itself. The mention of Amadis is irresistible i I to Don Quijote, setting off his mad streak, which, mirror- 1 like, sets off Cardenio's mad streak. The two lunatics ; brawl over an absurd point of honor regarding a purely fic tional character. The mere fact that both Cardenio and Lucinda turn out to be readers of chivalric romances helps to explain Car- , denio's reaction to her forced marriage with Fernando. | Rather than aggressively intervening to resolve the situa tion, he retreats to a literary melancholy, blames her for her inability to kill herself (!), and writes poetry, even tually driving himself mad (for the despairing poetry was 179 written before he entered the mountains). This couple and, } by extension, those of their rank in real life, come under criticism similar to that applied to Don Quijote as they show themselves to be similar to him in their admiration i for and imitation of inverisimilar literature. i Following the interruption of Cardenio's story, Don ; i Quijote begins the descent into the most compounded ironies : of the book. Having met his mirror image in Cardenio, the I j only other certifiably mad character in Part I, Don Quijote j i proceeds to imitate his love penance using a chivalric I rather than a pastoral model. He commits his most degrading/ j I acts— the half-nude somersaults which scandalize even San- i • I cho. Y desnudHndose con toda priesa los calzones, qued6 en carnes y en panales, y luego, sin mds ni mds, did dos zapatetas en el aire y dos tumbas la cabeza abajo ; y los pies en alto, descubriendo cosas que, por no ver- ! las otra vez, volvid Sancho la rienda d Rocinante, y I se did por contento y satisfecho de que podia jurar que su amo quedaba loco. (II, 321; 214) He makes his most cowardly decision— to imitate Amadis in stead of Orlando because it is easier. In fact, his deci sion to imitate Amadis is the easier of two means of accom plishing what was already an easy way out. He tells Sancho, ... me es d mi mds fdcil imitarle en esto que no en hen- der gigantes, descabezar serpientes, matar endriagos, ' T80] I i desbaratar ejgrcitos, fracasar armadas y deshacer en- cantamientos. (II, 289-90; 202) f I The victim of the irony innocently hangs himself with his j own words. Finally, he makes his most blatant admission of t the vanity of his motives. I 1 ... una hazaha, con que he de ganar perpetuo nombre y fama en todo lo descubierto de la tierra; y serS tal, que he de echar con ella el sello $ . todo aquello que i puede hacer perfecto y famoso S un andante caballero. , — Y £es de muy gran peligro esa hazaha? — preguntd Sancho Panza. ! j — No — respondid el de la Triste Figura— ; ... | (II, 287; 201) ! There is hardly a word Don Quijote speaks in this epi- j 'sode that does not reek of irony, as the man gone mad from I reading literature imitates literary madmen. As though the 1 evidence listed above were not enough to convict him of his I 1 folly, the narrator uses the device (so familiar from the arms episodes) of a long statement of the reality which Don ! iQuijote is distorting to incriminate him yet further. San cho is the vehicle for the true information about Aldonza Lorenzo, the peasant girl from whom the knight creates his . fantasy of Dulcinea. Don Quijote1s selection of the story about the widow to defend his image of Dulcinea against Sancho1s realistic picture of Aldonza only establishes again the knight's poor sense of logic and indecorous turn of mind..____________________________________________________________ This episode is also a turning point in Sancho's under standing, for he. displays less credulity here, adding up the 'evidence of the knight's misinterpretations of reality with his ludicrous acts of penance to conclude that the knight really is mad. Don Quijote only manages to bribe him into a show of credulity and cooperation with the gift of the ass colts. Once Sancho departs, Don Quijote has completed two of i jthe literary requisites for despairing lovers: irrational ;acts and self-exile. There only remains the production of poetry to complete the pattern. The knight complies, and we are given a sample of his efforts. This is the most blatantly parodic of all the love poems in Part I. The sym metry and rhythm are destroyed by the addition of "del To- boso" to the end of each stanza. The other characters find it ludicrous. "No caus6 poca risa en los que hallaron los i versos referidos el anadidura del Toboso al nombre de Dul cinea, ..." (II, 329; 216. Cervantes' emphasis). Aside from that, it is a purely conventional, mediocre specimen of the genre. In the case of all four of the lovers their bad poetry, madness, and self-exile are more than just parodic devices. They direct the satire from a criticism of literature to a I I criticism of life, where social customs force people to ! ! extremes of action or of retreat into fantasy and melan- j iCholy. The majority of the criticism here is directed ! against those who retreat into inaction instead of develop- | 41 ing reasonable and practical solutions to their problems. . I Sancho's succeeding encounter with the Curate and Bar ber draws out the parodic effect of the knight's penitence by juxtaposing it with their ridicule of Sancho's memory and! jof the letter to Dulcinea, thus functioning as the episode i j of the Yanguesan mares did earlier. The appearance of the I I Curate and Barber signal the turning away from Don Quijote J to other characters, and the knight's loss of control over his own actions. From the moment of greatest isolation, i ,when Don Quijote is left completely alone in the mountains, j we begin the movement toward the moment of largest social grouping, the farcical baciyelmo battle at the inn. Sancho 1 i serves as the bridge between the knight and society, first , here with the Curate, later at the inn after the battle with the wineskins, and near the end when the knight is caged. The Curate now takes control of events, and does not 41 See Harry Levin, The Gates of Horn: A Study of Five French Realists (New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 1966) , for an exposition of the same attitude in Flaubert1s Madame Bovary. 183 irelinquish it, except only briefly to Fernando, until Don Quijote is delivered home. His first act is to invent the role of a damsel in distress to dupe Don Quijote into leav ing the mountain. His second is to persuade Sancho to lie about delivering the letter to Dulcinea. This establishes l the Curate's position, suggested before in .the library epi sode, as a character aware of the dangers of certain kinds ! of literature, but not willing to give up the amusement it j ! goffers, and not above becoming himself the subject of criti- I cism for absurdly costuming himself like a literary charac- ' iter. He also displays a preference for entertainment over honesty in causing the simple Sancho to lie as part of the I t trick. j j The first person the three meet in the mountain is not Don Quijote but Cardenio, who is found singing ever more artificial love laments. As Salvador de Madariaga points out, the very idea of a person mad and savage from grief ; composing extremely complicated poetry is absurd (p. 76). ! The verses are introduced as "de discretos cortesanos" to emphasize their inappropriateness. Another ironic point is , i that the poet is praised for his voice rather than his verses, a significant omission. "La hora, el tiempo, la soledad, la voz y la destreza del que cantaba caus6 184 adrairaci6n y contento en los dos oyentes, ..." (Ill/ 15; 225). The first poem is flawed by the triteness of the i thought, the second by the exaggeration of the conclusion, i but neither is so poor as Don Quijote*s effort. Although t Cardenio*s story is not mocked with the appearance of an other mad fit, it is still not entirely approved. The sat- j ire has grown more subtle, allowing him to function later inj I the serious episodes with no disabling satiric contamina- 1 tion. Here the story is undercut by the narrator's com- j j ments, which implicate it with the fictions and fantasies of. jthe knight. i ... gozamos ahora en nuestra edad, necesitada de alegres j entretenimientos, no s61o de la dulzura de su verdadera ( historia, sino de los cuentos y episodios della, que, en | parte, no son menos agradables y artificiosos y verda- ■ deros que la misma historia; ... (Ill, 45; 236) 1 The force of the irony directed against Cardenio is modified by the words "en parte," indicating again his dual role. The same comments apply to Dorotea*s story, which fol lows immediately. Dorotea is the closest figure to a real i damsel in distress in the story. She is granted sympathy by virtue of her beauty and wealth, verisimilitude by her family and her intelligent, logical speech, and criticism because of her flight from reality, to the extreme of adopting male dress. Like Cardenio, she functions both in 185 ■the satire, primarily in the role of Princess Micomicona, ;and in the serious passages. Like Cardenio, Dorotea is a reader of chivalric roman- t ,ces, and is thus equipped to play her role as a Princess quite well. Within the serious passage before she assumes that role and dress, however, she speaks only of having read! ’ "algtan libro devoto" (III, 55; 240) . This is one of the * I I | ’ author's devices for separating the tones of the two pas- ! I jsages, along with the two functions of the character. Al though Dorotea gives no evidence of having written poetry j in her despair, she does offer a spoken lament which serves j i I 1 i ; the same purpose in establishing her similarity in misfor- 1 tune to the four previous lovers. The four love episodes of this central section contain no apologue as did the earlier cluster. However, Carde nio 's and Dorotea's stories are preludes to the four apo logues which pull together the strands of the second half. i ! This section is also essential to the transition in tone ; necessary to make the next section plausible in the context J of the satire. The work undertakes a very difficult stylis tic problem in attempting to interweave satiric and serious episodes. The danger of cross-contamination is severe, and perhaps was not fully prevented. Yet, in each episode 186 considered individually, the clues are consistent regarding which aspects of a character are to be interpreted as ludi crous, which as serious. The problem grows more complex in jconsidering the effect of the juxtaposition of satiric and moral episodes. The last cluster shows the most thorough ; i attempt in Part I to make these elements work together to ward the same goal. I The episodes that take place at the inn include four j apologues. They contribute to the message of the satire by criticizing in a serious way those who attempt to make life I conform to unrealistic ideals or fantasies, especially when i they have been encouraged by inverisimilar literature. But there is an implication that the literature is no longer a necessary trigger for this attitude since the customs of thej I upper classes are so saturated with the same kind of cere monies, forms, and attitudes as are found in the romances. The change of tone begun in the central section is completed in the cluster of apologues. The most obvious | indication that we have left the world of satire is the complete absence of laughter. Between the discussion of literature and the baciyelmo battle, only the knight and squire are victims of laughter. The episodes where this occurs are both blatantly satiric, but they only partly 187 i iintersect with the main action of the apologues. Within I i 'the other episodes, no character is ridiculed with laughter. Although some are criticized, the means used are not sati- |ric. They are serious, moral pronouncements by other char- I t acters. As laughter is the certain sign of satiric ridi- ! cule, tears are the certain sign of apologue. And tears j abound in the non-satiric events at the inn. j I The resolution of the relationships of Dorotea, Don I jFernando, Luscinda, and Cardenio is the first tearful scene.' i l The stories of Dorotea and Cardenio were earlier the subject; f I !of parodic attack because of their failure to pursue real- j istic solutions to their problems. Now, with the fortuitous’ meeting at the inn, they are given a second opportunity to resolve their problems. This time, instead of running away,1 I they confront Don Fernando, who caused their distress, and through the eloquence of Dorotea, insist on the justice due to those who were wronged. Don Fernando, lleno de confusidn y espanto, al cabo de un buen espa- cio que atentamente estuvo mirando $ . Dorotea, abrid los j brazos y, dejando libre § . Luscinda, dijo: ! — Venciste, hermosa Dorotea, venciste; porque no es posible tener clnimo para negar tantas verdades juntas. (Ill, 291; 329) The moral of the experiences of these four characters paral lels one of the messages of Marcela1s speech: love cannot , 1 8 8 - be forced; it must be given with free will. Don Fernando's reform is complete, and through the rest of these episodes he and his three companions function as respectable characters and reliable commentators. The .simple act of facing the problem and insisting on the only j treasonable solution serves to complete the transformation of partially satirized characters into wholly sympathetic ones.; The sensibilities of most modern readers violently protest the arbitrary nature of this change in Don Fernando.; But since this is not a novel, and there is no pretense of j character development, our automatic expectation of psycho- ! I : logical realism is inappropriate. In satire and apologue, > } where the idea is of primary importance and the characters , serve only as illustrative examples, this type of transfor- j mation is acceptable, however distasteful it may seem to us.. I The text is weighted so that all of the emotional fac- i tors of this episode support a sympathetic perception of the characters. In the satiric episodes other characters ritu ally laugh at the ludicrous victims. In this and in the other apologues, all the surrounding characters sympathize with those who have suffered, so long as they face their problems realistically. For example, Estas y otras razones dijo la lastimada Dorotea, con tanto sentimiento y lggrimas, que los mismos que acompa- I 1891 i haban £ don Fernando, y cuantos presentes estaban, la acompafiaron en ellas. (Ill, 291; 328) ... todos rodeaban £ don Fernando, suplicandole tuviese por bien de mlrar las l£grimas de Dorotea, y que, siendo verdad, como sin duda ellos creian que lo era, lo que en sus razones habia dicho, que no permitiese quedase defraudada de sus tan justas esperanzas; ... (Ill, 294; 330) The emphasis on practical, realistic solutions to ; I life's difficulties is the second moral of the experiences I of these four characters. It is echoed in the episode of ' |Don Luis and Doha Clara. The two youngsters show symptoms I 'of irrationality in their behavior similar to that of their elders. The boy in particular shows signs of literature- j i inspired foolishness in his use of love poetry and his in- I effectual trailing after the Judge's coach. However, it is J never explicitly stated that he is a reader of romances. J The implication is that he somehow assimilated this passive,; i literary attitude toward love directly from his culture. It i is this episode, then, which most strongly points the finger, i of criticism at the destructive artificiality of the socie ty's customs. In keeping with the boy's youth and rela tively mild contamination from the exaggerations of litera- I ture, his love poetry is the simplest and least artificial of those presented. The young lovers are satirized indirectly through the 1 190| I juxtaposition of Don Luis' serenade and Don Quijote's con versation with Maritornes and the innkeeper's daughter. The i knight's situation exactly parallels that of Don Luis, with j the man below sending amorous words to two women above, for i Dorotea shares Doha Clara's serenade. Where Don Quijote is ' ! captured by being hung by the wrist, Don Luis is caught by i his father's servants. Thus, both are punished for their | i amorous adventures. ; Yet the criticism of the boy is immediately cast off as soon as he takes the sensible and mature step of revealing ! his love to Doha Clara's father. { | j ... el Oidor qued6 en oirle suspenso, confuso y admi- j rado, asi de haber oido el modo y la discrecidn con que don Luis le habia descubierto su pensamiento como de verse en punto que no sabia el que poder tomar en tan repentino y no esperado negocio; ... (IV, 160-61; 401) Don Luis, like Don Fernando, becomes worthy of respect just as soon as he does the right thing. Whereas these two apologues resolve the question of realistic and sensible behavior in love, the other two apo- I logues bring together more of the major themes of the book. i I The question of truth was shown to be central in the arms episodes. It is developed through contrasts: fantasy vs. reality (or literature vs. life), and fiction vs. history. In the love episodes discussed so far, the emphasis has been 191 : on fantasy vs. reality. In the stories of "El curioso impertinente" and of the Captive and Zoraida, the contrasts ‘ between fiction and history, and arms and love are also ! i developed. Both stories are isolated from the satire around| I i them because their characters do not appear in satiric epi- j sodes. This is a means of protecting them from satiric , contamination, but is usually taken as a reason for consid- i ering them digressions unrelated to the main story. The I relationship is strong, but it is on the level of theme and ! message, not plot. "El curioso impertinente" illustrates fantasy as mani- ! 42 > jfested in unrealistic ideals, in fiction, and in love. i Since a satiric literary discussion precedes the story, we 1 I are alerted for indications of approval or disapproval by | ; i the narrator. The characters in the story are much more : verisimilar than Don Quijote or Sancho, even though the 42 i Bruce W. Wardropper's article, "The Pertinence of El curioso impertinente," PMLA, 72 (1957), 587-600, defends the, importance of this story:in calling attention to the au- I thor's positive beliefs. This parallels my evaluation of 1 the story as an apologue complementing the thrusts of the j satire. In Wardropper's words, these interpolated stories ’ "present similar themes to those of the historia under a different guise" (p. 593). Although we differ in our de scription of the theme of "El curioso impertinente," and although I find more structure in the historia than he does, our conclusions as to the mutually illuminating function of ,the main story and the interpolated stories are very similar. 1921 ideas and actions of Anselmo are nearly as ridiculous as those of the knight. The Curate, functioning as commenta tor, evaluates the story: ; — Bien — dijo el Cura— me parece esta novela; pero no me puedo persuadir que esto sea verdad; y si es fin- , gido, fingid mal el autor, porque no se puede imaginar que haya marido tan necio, que quiera hacer tan costosa experiencia como Anselmo. Si este caso se pusiera entre un galcin y una dama, pudidrase llevar; pero entre marido ' y mujer, algo tiene del imposible; y en lo que toca al ! modo de contarle, no me descontenta. (Ill, 277; 3 24) i iThis story does not satisfy all of the criteria for veri- \ similitude as the Captive's story will later, but it is a i jmuch closer approximation to what the author considers I I i I i 'acceptable literature. The flaw involves Anselmo's be- havior, the point at which the story parallels that of Don Quijote. That both should be somewhat incredible is only appropriate. In addition, the remark can be interpreted ironically, since Anselmo's actions are certainly less un imaginable than those of the knight. The relationship between the two men becomes clearer if we abstract the main idea of the apologue. It can be j i described as the story of a man whose stubborn imposition i of unrealistic ideals on other unwilling persons causes terrible damage to their lives and, in the process, forces them to participate in a deception which does their souls 193 ■as much damage as the denouement does their lives. With the i difference that more people are involved with Don Quijote, isome illustrating the damage he inflicts, others partici pating in various deceptions, the description might be of the knight rather than Anselmo. The similarity between the j 1 two men is reinforced when the story is interrupted by the j ! satirical episode of the wineskins. The knight's latest ! foolishness is encircled by the story of Anselmo's irra tional behavior.43 I i The Captive's Tale illustrates the other sides of the 1 , 44 [ ; thematic oppositions: reality, history, and arms. It , mocks Don Quijote's fantasies by showing how real soldiers act and think. By not satirizing war in this episode, the work breaks away from tradition. War has been attacked by many of the famous satirists (e.g., Aristophanes, Lucian, i 43 Raymond Immerwahr's citation of K. W. F. Solger's comment that the interpolated stories "have 'an allegorical reference to the main idea of the whole work'" ("Structural Symmetry," p. 124n) supports my conclusion that their rela tionship is that of moral apologue to the main structure of j satire. 44 Although the story of the Captive and Zoraida is actually an arms episode, it is so tightly interwoven with the other apologues and events at the. inn that I have cho sen to discuss it in this section rather than with the other arms episodes. It has less in common with the other arms episodes since they all focus on Don Quijote, so its main relationship is satiric by contrast. 3.94 I I Erasmus, and Rabelais). The reader familiar with this as pect of the satiric tradition would be inclined to find the i 45 comments on war linked to the satire on chivalric arms. The purpose of the Captive's Tale is, however, exactly the i opposite: to contrast real soldiers with fictional knights j I with a resulting elevation of the former and belittling of ' the latter. (The Prologue of Part II provides additional \ evidence that the work does not criticize war per se, how- jever much we might prefer that attitude.) I The Captive's Tale is made to conform as much as pos- | sible to a historical chronicle, with the actual inclusion j i of contemporary events in the battle against the Turks. Every reader of the day would recognize the truth of the Captive's facts and therefore credit his story. Thus, it serves as an example of how military exploits should be written, in contrast to the absurdities of romances. To a modern reader, the least plausible part of the story is the i chance location of Zoraida's window, which precipitates the whole escape plot. Yet, in context, it is no less plausiblej than the series of coincidental encounters and relationships! worked out among the other characters. These elements were 45 Arthur Efron makes just this incorrect association in "Don Quixote" and the Dulcineated World. considered necessary to a work of art in order to cause j astonishment (admiratio) in the audience, thereby demon strating the author's originality and artistry. As the iCanon explains it, Hanse de casar las fibulas mentirosas con el entendi- miento de los que las leyeren, escribi£ndose de suerte, que facilitando los imposibles, allanando las grandezas, suspendiendo los Snimos, admiren, suspendan, alborocen entretengan de modo, que anden S . un mismo paso la admi- raci6n y la alegrla juntas; ... (IV, 232; 425) j f J Additional support for a positive interpretation of the. 1 t I Captive's story is given by, of all people, Don Quijote. In' l !all of Part I, the knight makes only one major statement I I ;that is to be taken seriously, and that is the speech on Arms and Letters. Ironically, this same speech helps to j establish that his activities, chivalric arms, are the wrongj kind to pursue. It is very important that no one confuse , I real military exploits with mock-chivalric adventures, j i i judging by the effort expended to create an atmosphere of , credibility for this one speech. The first step was taken j early in the second half when the Curate was chatting with ! 46 Emily G. R. Pelayo's dissertation, "Cervantes y la polemica de las armas y las letras," Dissertation Abstracts, 33 (1973) , 3663A (Univ. of Florida) , appears to support this interpretation of the distinction between chivalric and real arms. She agrees that the speech refers to real soldiers and therefore excludes Don Quijote himself. 196 Cardenio. — Pues otra cosa hay en ello — dijo el Cura— que fuera de las simplicidades que este buen hidalgo dice tocantes S su locura, si le tratan de otras cosas, dis- i curre con bonisimas razones y muestra tener un entendi- miento claro y apacible en todo; de manera, que como no le toquen en sus caballerias, no habrS nadie que le juzgue sino por de muy buen entendimiento. (Ill, 127; j 267) j i Now, at that point in the story, Don Quijote had done noth- i ing that was not connected with chivalry, so we had no basis' i j i ifor verifying the Curate’s statement. It had to be acceptedj as true simply because the Curate has usually been a reli- ' I I lable commentator. And no opportunity to test the statement i i » ■arises until the speech on Arms and Letters. The context of the speech itself is complex. It is framed by the apologues of Dorotea et al., and of the Cap- ; t tive, giving it the likelihood of being equally serious. Yet the other two interruptions of the series of apologues, ' I the battle with the wineskins and the talk with Maritornes and the innkeeper's daughter, were both satiric, setting up an expectation of comedy. The speech is introduced with thej comment that "Quijote, movido de otro semejante espiritu que: el que le movi6 S hablar tanto como habl6 cuando cen6 con los cabreros, comenz6 S . decir: ..." (Ill, 319-20; 339). That speech to the goatherds was purely parodic, more , i j I evidence against taking this one seriously. And the first few sentences refer to chivalry, the one subject everyone agrees he is mad on. But very early in the speech, Don ^Quijote shifts from his usual illogical and belligerent i assertions to a reasoned series of arguments in favor of the; nobility of the profession of arms. The center of this j I speech is everything his speech on the Golden Age failed to I j be. He carefully addresses his ideas to his audience, fol lows a logical thought progression, uses simple and clear | i J Isentences without unnecessary ornamentation, cites authori- 1 jties which carry weight with his audience, and cites factual i examples to support his ideas. In addition, the narrator I interrupts with a non-ironic accolade. ! De tal manera y por tan buenos t§rminos iba prosi- guiendo en su plStica don Quijote, que oblig6 S . que, por entonces, ninguno de los que escuchcindole estaban le tuviese por loco; antes, como todos los mSs eran caba- lleros, £ . quien son anejas las armas, le escuchaban de muy buena gana; ... (Ill, 322-23; 341) The only element within the core of the speech that arouses our suspicion is the assertion that arms has peace as its goal. Modern man tends not to believe such an assertion, having grown skeptical of the motives of men and institu tions when they lead to the destruction of other men. But in the seventeenth century this was not an extraordinary statement. It conformed with the sensibilities of the times] i |not to mention Cervantes' own professed pride in his wound from Lepanto. Finally, the speech concludes with a return to the madness of chivalry for a few sentences. In all J other episodes, the judgment of other characters has weighed; ! heavily in the interpretation of events. Here the others I approve his comments on military arms while deploring his I ideas about chivalry. I En los que escuchado le habian sobrevino nueva lcistima, de ver que hombre que, al parecer, tenia buen entendi- i miento y buen discurso en todas las cosas que trataba, le hubiese perdido tan rematadamente en trat&ndole de su negra y pizmienta caballeria. El Cura le dijo que I tenia mucha raz6n en todo cuanto habia dicho en favor de las armas, y que £1, aunque letrado y graduado, i estaba de su mesmo parecer. (Ill, 333; 345) The bulk of the evidence points toward a serious interpre- I tation of all but the brief framing comments on chivalry. I Thus, the speech supports the validity of the Captive's ; i point of view. However, there is one remaining irony in the relationship of the two items, for the Captive, who practiced this much-admired profession of arms, was reduced j to poverty and slavery. Thus, we must conclude that the moral of this passage is that arms are an honorable, but far from profitable profession. The last of the love episodes is the story of Leandra, 199 told by one of her admirers who, like Gris6stomo, Cardenio, i i and Dorotea, has become a goatherd because his amorous in tentions were frustrated. This is another variation on the i parody of pastoral literature, for Leandra shows herself to i be a very unworthy object of Eugenio's attentions. Never- i i theless, she has somehow enchanted a whole forest full of suitors who all lament her foolish elopement. In addition, the soldier she runs off with is a victim of severe criti- j t i cism for his brash exaggerations and flashy manner. Only 1 » dedicated and modest military men are encompassed by the ' ! I praise in the speech on Arms and Letters. I 1 Each of the pastoral love episodes uses a different i I kind of distortion of the romances to achieve its satiric j I i effect. Marcela turns out to be perfectly capable of sur viving without any men at all, Dorotea reverses the tradi tional male and female roles, Cardenio serves as a mad model t for a madder knight, and Leandra proves to be unworthy of the attentions of her suitors. All of these episodes con tribute to the general theme that poorly written and con- i I ceived romances, whether they be chivalric or pastoral, deceive their readers into overreacting to life and making grand but futile literary gestures. I have tried to point out from time to time some of the problems that arise if Don Quijote is read as a novel in stead of a' blend of satire and apologue. Since Don Quijote is just as much a parodic caricature in his last adventure ; as he was in his first, there is no evidence for novelistic character development. The changes that occur in Don Qui- J I jote and Sancho from time to time are explainable as arising'. i from the satiric needs of the individual episodes. None of j the changes becomes a permanent aspect of their personali ties. Also, Don Quijote would fail structurally as a novel ! I because so many episodes do not contribute to our under- | ; i jstanding of the main character and his personal relation- j ships. What all the episodes do contribute to, however, is our understanding of the subjects criticized by the satire. * When Don Quijote is accepted as a book of ideas, wherein ! characters serve purely rhetorical ends, then each episode ; I is seen to contribute to the unity of the work by amplifying1 one or more of the major ideas. Moreover, the three main concepts (literature, chivalric arms, and love) account for the position and function of every episode in Part I. The reason for attempting to work apologue into the satire may be suggested by one of the Canon's remarks in the last literary discussion. He says of the chivalric romance: Y segtin S mi me parece, este g^nero de escritura y 201 composici6n cae debajo de aquel de las fibulas que H a inan milesias, que son cuentos disparatados, que atienden j 1 solamente $l deleitar, y no S ensenar; al contrario de lo que hacen las fibulas ap61ogas, que deleitan y ensenan juntamente. (IV, 229; 424) I A purely parodic satire might have been accused of serving ! only to amuse, even though it functions implicitly as a I j corrective. Apologue, on the other hand, is an overt cor- j » rective, and delivers moral messages that satire can only I i I isuggest. The inclusion of apologues within the satire ; [ i I ! iserves to reinforce the points of criticism while supplying the element of utile, the didactic quality, that a writer of classical tastes would find essential to the success of his i i work. It balances the humor with seriousness, the dulce with utile, criticism with affirmation. And, finally, the apologues allow the author to demonstrate his artistic ver- ; satility. The Canon remarks on the great potential in ' I chivalric romances: i I Porque la escritura desatada destos libros de lugar S ' que el autor pueda mostrarse £pico, lirico, tr^gico, c6mico, con todas aquellas partes que encierran en si las dulcisimas y agradables ciencias de la poesia y de | la oratoria; que la £pica tambi^n puede escrebirse en prosa como en verso. (IV, 235; 426) CHAPTER III THE SATIRIC STRUCTURE OF DON QUIJOTE, PART II Another Kind of Satire Since Don Quijote, Part I accomplished its stated goal of satirically demolishing inverisimilar romances and their credulous readers, there would be no point in producing another book on the same subject.1 Although Part II appears to resume the saga of’ the parodic knight errant about where Part I left off, there is actually a world of difference between the two books. Most readers quickly sense a change of tone and content in Part II, and for good reason. Part II has taken the satiric and apologic potential of Part I, 1In Per Sinn der Parodie im Don Quijote Hans Jorg Neu- schafer points out the irony that such a stickler for rules as Don Quijote would even set out on this third adventure. ". . . er zweimal unter schmahlichen Umstanden wieder zu Hause gelandet und nach den Regeln des Ritterromans damit eigentlich langst disqualifiziert war” (p. 40). 202 203 balanced it, refined it, and produced a work of much more complex structure, generic balance, and universal signifi cance . ! Structurally, Part II is innovative. It dramatizes a new concept of satire as an equal blend of satire and apo- jlogue. There is reason to believe that the satiric tradi tion has always sheltered a tendency to homily, but Don Quijote, Part II is one of the few instances of a work that 2 has given equal weight to both elements. As Sheldon Sacks I jasserts, I There is no reason why the writer of an apologue may not fully share with the satirist an intention to ridi cule, nor any reason why he may not do so successfully, (p. 49) 2 A similar generic situation exists in Guzman de Alfa- rache, where the blend of picaresque satire and homiletic discursos has long plagued critics. Francisco Rico works out a reconciliation of the two elements in La novela pica- j resca y el punto de vista, 2nd ed. (Barcelona: Editorial ; Seix Barral, S.A., 1973) . He makes the sensible observation1 that "si Mateo Aleman escribid un libro, y no dos, serfa porque juzgaba bien integrados los elementos constitutivos: y que la misidn del crltico no es salvar dstos y decretar aqudllos impertinentes, sino poner de relieve el vinculo | integrador (sin caer en la ingenuidad de limitarlo a la , encuadernacidn)" (p. 60). That Don Quijote and Guzman de Alfarache appeared at nearly the same time and with a simi lar generic blending of satire and apologue suggests that a comparison of the two works might prove very enlightening in regard to the literary trends of the time, as well as im proving our understanding of each work. 204 iTo conform to the definitions we have employed thus far, it should be labeled a satire-apologue. Yet the text presents excellent evidence for retaining the term satire, in a .suitably modified sense. j The generic situation is clearest if we return to the 1 criteria applied to Part I. First, let us take Sheldon i I Sacks' definitions of the three genres of prose fiction. ■ i A satire is a work organized so that it ridicules j objects external to the fictional world created in it. ; An apologue is a work organized as a fictional ex ample of the truth of a formulable statement or series of such statements. , An action is a work organized so that it introduces j characters, about whose fates we are made to care, in I unstable relationships which are then further compli cated until the complication is finally resolved by the removal of the represented instability. (p. 26) » ■An examination of the structure will be necessary before the, organizing principle can be established, but certain pre liminary observations may be made. Part II is satiric in ^that it contains the same pattern of ridicule found in Part ' I. Criticism is directed toward those who write and read exaggerated romances via the madness of Don Quijote. To j the satiric targets of Part I are added waiting women, courtiers of all types (e.g., priests and physicians), and government officials, to name a few. The satire is com pleted when Don Quijote regains his sanity and renounces romances of chivalry. As an apologue, Part II asserts -the truth of the need to prepare the soul for its encounter with eternity. It illustrates vices to eliminate and virtues to practice. It also serves to instill a sense of contemptus mundi in the 3 reader. Don Quijote and Sancho are the exemplars. The former succeeds and the latter fails to attain the spiritual goal. However, Part II is not organized as an action, because the characters function to illuminate the ideas, not the reverse. The two main characters quickly illustrate this point. Although we may come to care for them to some ex tent, and to recognize a certain level of complication in their relationship, the fact that the denouement does not serve to resolve their relationship indicates the inaccu racy of this perspective. The climax of Don Quijote's death satisfies the needs of the satire and of the apologue, but totally alienates him from the one character who, if this 3 As Otis H. Green has shown in Spain and the Western Tradition, Vol. IV, a sense of contemptus mundi in combina tion with the themes of death, corruption, and mutability was a common expression of Baroque pessimism. It was typi cally coupled with hope in the afterlife. These ideas per meate Don Quijote, especially Part II, and show it to be a typical product of Baroque thinking. , 2 -Q -6 - were an action, would share the focus of their personal resolution of the relationship. Sancho and Don Quijote achieve individual goals, but only in spiritual or physical isolation from each other. Sancho's governorship and Don j 4 Quijote's desengafio are more noteworthy for driving the two' •apart than for resolving their relationship. Sancho makes ,his wise judgments in isolation from his master; Don Quijote dies repentant, over the uncomprehending protests of Sancho. Gilbert Highet's six criteria for satire (p. 15f) are j ,also fulfilled by Part II. First, the work must identify j i ' !itself as satire. Part II does so in two ways. It uses the term "satire" in the text itself as a cue to the reader, and I I it adapts themes that are traditionally included in satiric literature. ; 1 i The use of the term "satire" in the text is somewhat complex, and leads us rapidly to the issue of the modified definition of the term. The first instance occurs in the Prologue, in reference either to Part I or to the Novelas ejemplares. j 4 To repeat Otis H. Green's definition, cited earlier in reference to the picaro, desengafio signifies a certain kind of wisdom, "a passing from ignorance to knowledge, an awak ening from the falsity of one's dream" (Spain and the West ern Tradition, IV, 49). I 207 Pero, en efecto, le agradezco $ . este senor autor el decir que mis novelas son m&s satiricas que ejemplares, pero que son buenas; y no lo pudieran ser si no tuvie- ran de todo. (V, 16; 468) Notice that the author does not deny the satiric element in I his work, but insists on the moral aspect, the homiletic, as wel 1. The next two examples attack satire for its wickedness and destructiveness when directed as invective against spe cific individuals. — Digame, senor Don Quijote — dijo A esta saz6n el Barbero— , £no ha habido algtin poeta que haya hecho f Scitira H esa senora Angelica, entre tantos como la I han alabado? ■ — Bien creo yo — respondi6 don Quijote— que si Sacripante 6 Roldan fueran poetas, que ya me hubieran jabonado ci la doncella; porque es propio y natural de los poetas desdenados y no admitidos de sus damas, fingidas 6 no fingidas, en efeto, de aquellas c l quien ellos escogieron por sehoras de sus pensamientos, ven- garse con sStiras y libelos, venganza, por cierto, in- digna de pechos generosos; pero hasta agora no ha lle- gado H mi noticia ningtin verso infamatorio contra la i senora Angelica, que trujo revuelto el mundo. (V, 49; 480) Only those who have been injured directly may write invec tive satire, but it is preferable to avoid them altogether because they are merely "libelos." Curiously, when Avella- neda's book later comes under violent attack, in conditions similar to those described here, Cervantes himself becomes a target of the criticism that this type of vengeance is 208 "indigna de pechos generosos." I 1 The second example also emphasizes the malicious qual ity of invective satire, and again uses a woman as the example of a satiric object. ! I j i — Eso me parece, Sancho — dijo don Quijote— , A lo i que sucediS A un famoso poeta destos tiempos, el cual, ! habiendo hecho una maliciosa sStira contra todas las damas cortesanas, no puso ni nombr6 en ella A una dama que se podia dudar si lo era 6 no; ... y que alargase , la sStira y la pusiese en el ensanche; ... (V, 151-52; j 516) The evidence of a streak of misogyny grows more apparent as | Part II progresses. It was not entirely absent from Part I,' |if we recall, for example, the comments about how men must protect their wives from temptation in "El curioso imperti- j nente." However, this was tempered by the indications of admirable qualities in Marcela, Dorotea, and Zoraida. The > first was both virtuous and intelligent; the second, al- ' [ .though weaker, was still intelligent and morally inclined; the third was highly religious and moral. In Part II the women are seldom so redeemed. , Don Quijote1s long lecture to Don Diego de Miranda con-^ tains two uses of "satire." La Poesla ... quien la sabe tratar la volverU en oro purisimo de inestimable precio; hala de tener el que la tuviere A raya, no dejSndola correr en torpes sllti- ras ni en desalmados sonetos; ... (V, 292-93; 568) 209 Rina vuesa merced S . su hijo si hiciere slitiras que per- judiquen las honras ajenas, y castiguele, y rdmpaselas; pero si hiciere sermones al modo de Horacio, donde reprehenda los vicios en general, como tan elegante- j mente £l lo hizo, alcibele; porque licito es al poeta escribir contra la invidia, y decir en sus versos mal ; de los invidiosos, y asi de los otros vicios, con que 1 no senale persona alguna; pero hay poetas que & trueco ' de decir una malicia, se pondr&n A peligro que los des- I tierren $ . las islas de Ponto. (V, 295-96; 569-70) : I The second excerpt contains the distinction crucial to the j 'new definition of satire. It derives from Don Quijote's ! decision to describe Horace's satires, "donde reprehenda los vicios en general," as "sermones." Horace himself occa- j jsionally referred to his satirae as sermones, but in Latin ; sermones merely refers to the conversational style in which 5 ! they were written. Don Quijote is clearly using the term , I in the Spanish sense to indicate their moral and educational! j qualities. The implication is that homiletic satires, like the Quijote itself, are admirable literary endeavors, be cause they achieve universal scope and application by deal- i i I ing with types and classes of people and are mild in tone. Invective satires are repudiated because they refer only to i specific individuals, do not provide universal moral correc- i i tion, and are malicious in tone. Of course, one may argue 5 The Oxford Classical Dictionary, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1970), p. 528. 210 j f that the reader is capable of expanding a specific satiric case to a universal principle, but apparently the author does not like to leave too much in the hands of the reader. There is a definite preference for the manifest over the i implicit. The lesson that there is a proper and an improper way of reprehending vice and castigating folly is given from i another perspective in a later episode that bears mentioning! i here. Shortly after Don Quijote and Sancho arrive at the i home of the Duke and Duchess, Don Quijote is attacked by thej ! ' i i I priest, un grave eclesicistico destos que gobiernan las casas de los principes; destos que, como no nacen principes, no ! aciertan & ensenar c6mo lo han de ser los que lo son; j destos que quieren que la grandeza de los grandes se mida con la estrecheza de sus cinimos; destos que, que- I riendo mostrar S . los que ellos gobiernan S . ser limita- dos, les hacen ser miserables: ... (VI, 243; 670) i ,With this sarcastic introduction, emphasizing the misguided j advice to be expected from such a person, we are prepared to receive his attack on the knight with some reservations. In; the subsequent conversation, Don Quijote exhibits his usual ! chivalric fantasies. The priest intervenes with harsh cri ticisms, calling him, "con mucha c61era," "don Tonto ... mentecato" and "alma de cantaro" (VI, 252-53; 673). Al though we know from other evidence that Don Quijote's i t fantasies are disapproved, that does not justify the j priest's method of attack. Anger is one of the vices con tinually preached against in Part II, and the general atti tude of others who wish to see the knight cured has been i 1 ■one of gentle sympathy, not brutal name calling. j The incident concludes with Don Quijote's moderate, ! ■reasonable words, which contrast so strongly with the j i i priest's angry tones. The main point is expressed in these ■ ■ lines: i Las reprehensiones santas y bien intencionadas otras ; i circunstancias requieren y otros puntos piden: $ . lo j menos, el haberme reprehendido en pdiblico y tan Itspera- i mente ha pasado todos los llmites de la buena repre- 1 hensidn, pues las primeras mejor asientan sobre la blandura que sobre la aspereza, y no es bien, sin tener 1 conocimiento del pecado que se reprehende, llamar al ; pecador, sin mSs ni mis, mentecato y tonto. (VI, 256; The point here is not whether Don Quijote is right or wrong in his fantasies, but rather how one should criticize, or how one should write satire. The response is that criticisim should be offered gently, with charity, moderation, and continued attention to the universal moral reverberations of the subject. Excessive anger, excessively biting language are offen sive and inappropriate means for criticism whose purpose is correction. They are the tools of malice, more suited to tearing down than building up. Vicious criticism of vice destroys its own effectiveness by committing the sin it Icastigates. Thus, the distinction between invective satire iand homiletic satire is dramatized in the text itself in i this confrontation between the priest and Don Quijote. ! At this point it emerges that corrective satire lias much in common with apologue. Although apologue need not i I serve to convey moral truths, that is its most common func tion. It is the perfect vehicle for conveying moral ideas j j I and encouraging their adoption. What Don Quijote described jabove as "sermones," then, is a merging of the two forms, ( ! | making satire more palatable and decorous by raising it from raucous humor and vicious character assassination, while 1 adapting apologue to reinforce the criticisms set forth in j i I the satire by dramatizing their validity. The last example of the use of the term "satire" arises after the masque at Camacho's wedding. — Yo apostar§ — dijo don Quijote— que debe de ser mSs amigo de Camacho que de Basilio el tal bachiller 6 beneficiado, y que debe de tener mSs de s&tirico que de visperas; jbien ha encajado en la danza las habilidades de Basilio y las riquezas de Camacho! (VI, 41-42; 600) * Don Quijote's judgment of it as satire is a clue to direct the reader. The masque itself is more Horatian than Juve- nalian in its mildness, showing that satire directed at individuals, if handled with moderation, is not entirely i offensive, but actually entertaining and instructive. This is the only time that the term "satirico" is directed spe cifically at an element of the text, instead of the pre- j ferred designation, "serm6n." The very inclusion of the j I ;masque in such detail is appropriate only because it comple-! i ments the overall satiric tone of the work, now that the I i narrator has announced his intention to eschew digressions, j i On one level, the distinction between invective and I ■homiletic satire can be interpreted as a reference to Juve- 1 | j nalian and Horatian satire. Yet it is possible to show that :even Juvenal, the master of invective, included long homi letic sections in his satires. His tenth satire, "The I I £ Vanity of Human Wishes," concludes with a stanza which both, summarizes the main points of the poem and turns to a ser- i ious tone to reinforce those points. ! I Then men should pray for nothing? ! If you want my advice, You'll let the gods themselves bestow what may suffice For your good and be most useful to I your affairs. For in place Of what we enjoy, they'll give what best befits our case: 6The Satires of Juvenal, trans. Hubert Creekmore (New York: New American Library, 1963), pp. 177-78. 214" Man is more precious to them than to himself. We're spurred By a wish in our hearts, by urgent, blind desire we're stirred-- We pray for a wife and issue. But only the gods can foresee j What kind of wife and children we'll get. Still, so there'll be Something left to pray for, some reason to offer at a shrine j Those entrails and white pig sausages | that are called divine, You should pray for this: A sound mind in a sound body. Pray ; For courageous spirit that's not afraid of death and can say : Long life is the least of nature's gifts? that can endure Any troubles, harbors no wrath, ' covets nothing, and feels sure j That Hercules' toils and grueling : labors are better to bear Than Sardanapalus' orgies and banquets and cushioned chair. j I'm pointing out simply what you can give yourself. For the one True path to peaceful life must surely through virtue run. 0 Fortune, you'd have no divine attributes if we were wise: It's we who make you a goddess and j set you high in the skies! A serious presentation of the message buried within the sarcasms and ironies of the satire is part of the tradition j j of the genre. Don Quijote's terminology, "sermones al modo de Horacio," simply calls to the attention of the reader the adjustment of proportion that has taken place in the compo sition of Don Quijote, Part II. 215 The above citation from "The Vanity of Human Wishes" .also serves to illustrate a second proof of Part II1s sati ric nature. Gilbert Highet's first criterion for satire, self-identification, can also be achieved by the use of recognized satiric themes. One of these, misogyny, has ■already been mentioned. The passage from Juvenal shares i i .several other themes with Part II. The title of the poem , itself suggests the combined direction of satire and apo- j I logue in Part II, for the moral of the knight's experiences ' I lis that the worldly and temporal are ultimately valueless. ; The criticisms Juvenal directs against his contemporaries | are just as pertinent to Don Quijote, for the knight's be setting sins are vanity, pride, and the thirst for fame. ^he two works share these features: an adjuration to trust j in divine wisdom, a mistrust of man's ability to judge his own needs and goals, a placing of high value on health, I sanity, and the ability to face death bravely, a list of sins or vices (lack of spiritual endurance, wrath, covetous-( ness, lust, gluttony, sloth), a promise that the reward willj be peace, and, finally, the general tone of a sermon. The homiletic tone of this concluding stanza, in combination with the invective of the earlier stanzas, is a precursor of the blending of satire and apologue in Part II. ! i The universality of these themes indicates that even invective satire has a didactic potential. It is only the tone and the decision not to name names that finally dis tinguish Horatian and Cervantine satire from Juvenalian, for! i their targets are certainly alike. Yet even Cervantes does j 1 ■not always preserve this aloofness. The insult of Avella- I neda's continuation was so strong as to cause his name to | be mentioned in the text. It is unfortunate that this hap- ^ pens, for the sections where he is attacked are aestheti cally the weakest. Artistic distance and control suffer, 1 . I f or example, in the Prologue, whose jagged construction and | 1 raw sarcasm are so much at variance with the polished iron- • i ies and complexities of the Prologue to Part I. Except for the one issue of Avellaneda, however, Part II conforms to j ' I I the standards of homiletic satire expressed by Don Quijote. i i Highet's five other criteria for identifying satire can 1 I be treated much more briefly. The second is the demonstra tion of interest in a topical problem. In keeping with the preference for universal issues, most problems are timeless,; such as corruption in government. The attacks on waiting women and on the romances of chivalry are based on contem porary issues, but the feud with Avellaneda is the best t evidence for this point. | The third characteristic is the use of cruel, comic, or < colloquial vocabulary. Sancho is always a good example of the latter two. The first is manifested in a new way in part II, in the repeated abusive names Don Quijote uses i toward Sancho. Frequently, as in the following example, the [ name calling also serves the purpose of the apologue to J remind us of the condition of Sancho*s soul: ! t ... prevaricador de las ordenanzas escuderiles de la : andante caballerla, ... malandrln, folldn y vestiglo, | que todo lo pareces, ... iOh hombre que tiene mSs de i bestia que de persona! ... Asno eres, y asno has de 1 ser, y en asno has de pa.rar cuando se te acabe el curso I de la vida; que para ml tengo que antes llegarS ella $ . \ su Ultimo t^rmino que tti caigas y des en la cuenta de ! que eres bestia. (VI, 201-02; 655) I Fourth is the use of the unexpected or startling. As ! usual, Don Quijote's appearance is sufficient cause for j astonishment in itself. This effect is only compounded by | the madness of his deeds. Again, a new element appears in i Part II to modify this quality: the knight causes astonish ment by his wisdom now, especially when it is mixed with his folly on the subject of knight errantry. I The fifth trait is the employment of standard satiricali devices. In Part II there is again an abundance of irony, .parody, violence, exaggeration, and incongruity. Several examples will arise in the course of the following analysis, but, for the moment, we can recall that the knight and .squire suffer a number of beatings in Part II, indicating that violence is still employed to cut down the satiric target. The sixth and final characteristic Highet lists is thatj satire inspires a response of mingled amusement and con tempt. This is one of the points where the mixture of apologue and satire is most likely to cause confusion, and j I 'I shall spend quite a while disentangling the two. It i should not be too difficult, since the narrator, as in Part j l , provides explicit directions for the interpretation of ^ I I ^events. In those episodes most fully devoted to satire, ) l such as Altisidora's serenade to Don Quijote, the reader's I response is directed toward a proportion of amusement and , I contempt very similar to that aroused by Part I. When en- ; i gaged in the pursuit of knight errantry Don Quijote is still a ridiculous fool, but this judgment is tempered by other cases where his mania is not involved. There, when apo logue predominates, as in his advice to Sancho on govern ment, Don Quijote inspires admiration for his wisdom, some- | times mingled with pity for his other blindnesses or pleas ure in the prospect of his ultimate cure and reform. Yet it is a mistake to permit the feelings aroused by the sections _____ i of apologue to distort those feelings aroused by the satire. Great care is taken in the text to distinguish exactly which qualities are admirable and which are absurd. This is part ,of the artistry involved in merging the two genres. Since this is a book of ideas where characters serve primarily to i dramatize themes, there is no inconsistency in a method j which allows Sancho, for example, to be a Solomon one moment1 i ■and a pig the next. j It may be instructive to transform each of Gilbert ■ Highet's six points into tests for apologue instead of , ' i 'satire. To satisfy the criterion of self-identification, an, t apologue would identify itself by proclaiming a link with i philosophy, religion, or some other form of the quest for I answers to the human predicament. In this case, the reli- j gious overtones are unmistakable. In fact, the term "ser- i m6n" appears more frequently than does satire. Somewhat less common are such terms as "preach," "prayer," and "theo-i logian."7 The second test, topicality, is irrelevant to apologue.; i However, its reverse, timeless universality, is very apt. In Part II we have, to mention only the more obvious case, 7 Several good examples can be found in Chapters 20, 22,: 27, and 29. the organizing framework of Don Quijote's religious awaken ing and return to virtue after having sinned through vanity, pride, and anger. The third test is the use of traditional themes. There is a continuous pattern present based on an interest in such ■typically homiletic subjects as virtue, vice, death, and penance. The fourth test is the choice of vocabulary. The frequency with which references to God and death spring to pon Quijote's lips are indicative of homiletic vocabulary. The fifth test is the use of apologic devices. The tendency .to religious symbolism, as in the episodes of the cart of demons and of the religious images, is a manifestation of devices appropriate to this genre. Finally, there is the test of reader response. Apo logue should elicit the feeling of moral enlightenment or spiritual inspiration, or, at the very least, there should be a recognition by the reader that a moral or spiritual truth has been presented. Perhaps the many attempts to make Don Quijote into a hero or tragic figure are based on a recognition that some type of spiritual message is being conveyed, but without the accompanying realization that it is not the knight's mad behavior, but rather his renuncia tion of it, that is the source of the moral truth being . 22"! proposed. i j These preliminaries have shown that there is sufficient evidence to justify discussing Don Quijote/ Part II as a I homiletic satire. It is the structure of the work that will| provide the final proofs. i i The Structure I The task of deciphering the skeleton of Part II is much more complicated than it was for Part I. There are several ! reasons for this, the most important of which returns us 1 I iagain to the issue of the blending of satire and apologue, jln Part I it was possible to label each episode as a pure j .example of satire or apologue, and the transitions were | clearly marked as points of interlocking overlap, but with- i out any mingling of tone in the episodes themselves. In Part II no episode is pure satire or apologue. Each event mixes humor with seriousness, buffoonery with sermonizing, i irony with straightforwardness, but in constantly varying proportions. Each episode is a law unto itself, and we can : > say only that one or the other genre predominates. The second major difficulty with an outline of Part II is that most of the episodes mimic or parody characters and events from Part I. In many cases this is interesting or amusing, but not of major significance to the meaning of , f Part II. The relationships will not be explored here unlessj they help to illuminate the sources of unity for Part II. j | Structural unity in Part I was derived from the purely j I parodic idea that the foolish exaggeration and potential j danger of fabulous romances could best be dramatized in j alternating sets of arms and love episodes. The theme unit ing all of the strands of Part I was the idea of truth in I literature. It was manifested in the dualities of history- , fiction, life-literature, reality-fantasy, and verisimili- » I jtude-inverisimilitude. The source of unity in Part II is 1 i I one equally suited to satire and apologue: the idea of , truth in life. It gives rise to the thematic dualities of engano (deception)-desengano (disillusionment), body (man as; ! i animal)-soul (man as spirit), vice-virtue, madness-sanity, j and death in life-life in death. | Although in both Parts the question of truth and de- : i I i ception is central, the emphasis has changed tremendously. j i Part I concentrated on the intentional and unintentional deceptions fostered by literature, including along the way the contributing deceptions of people who play literary jokes on the mad knight. Part II brings the jokers into the forefront by focusing on the intentional and unintentional deceptions of man and his creations, of which literature is r 2231 ' ' only a single aspect. This reversal of emphasis is accom panied by a more metaphysical attitude toward reality. In Part I physical reality is the reliable reference point against which the fantasies of Don Quijote always shattered. I In Part II physical reality is still reliable, so far as it J > i goes, but since it is a device that can be manipulated by j one person to deceive another, it cannot signify absolute | truth. Although the reader is still privy to the truth : ! behind the various "enchantments," he is made aware at everyi I opportunity that a higher truth exists, one that is divine and eternal, in contrast to the merely mundane and temporal J i ! t truths he can discern from physical evidence. The result is' that Don Quijote is faced with two layers of deception I through which he must pierce. The satire is directed towardj i exposing deception and its tools (engaho) and achieving Don , i Quijote's return to sanity from his chivalric fantasies. The apologue is directed toward elucidating the virtues of j disillusionment (desengano) and achieving a full spiritual ; rebirth from his state of animality and sin. The .satire castigates vice and folly. The apologue praises virtue and I wisdom. In effect, the apologue translates the satire into moral terms. They progress side by side to a simultaneous 224 climax and conclusion.8 The satiric and apologic elements exist in a state of tention within the work, one which is typical of the Baroque jstyle. Joaquin Casalduero has characterized this period in Spain as one which j ; sustituye la simetrla por una polaridad que establece j un equilibrio tensamente dinlimico entre una serie de , correspondencias. Es la polaridad entre la oscuridad y la luz, entre el suelo y el cielo, entre el cuerpo y el alma, la clrcel y la libertad, la ignorancia y la sabidurla, lo uno y lo multiple. ("Algunas carac- I i teristicas," p. 91)9 jln Part I we found dynamic tensions between literature and ( I llife, reality and fantasy, history and fiction, verisimili- ! I tude and inverisimilitude. In Part II the text moves for ward into the more morally oriented dualities, such as thosej i cited by Casalduero. But the tension of interaction is more! Deception and desengano have long been recognized as major themes in Don Quijote. What I am trying to do in this chapter is to demonstrate that they are more than thematic motifs, that they reveal the essential satiric and apologic • structure of the work, which is more tightly organized than | is often acknowledged. Thus, other themes come to make more' sense as we discover how they function to the same end, not randomly. Joaquin Casalduero suggested several motifs in Sentido y forma del Quijote, such as animals, money, soci ety, and plays, but his analysis failed to show how they all contribute to a unifying principle in the work. 9 Professor James Parr first pointed out this aesthetic relationship to me. 225 i than a philosophical notion added on to the work. It is integral to the structure itself, and is best seen in the complex interaction of apologue and satire. Every episode contributes to the development of both strains; sometimes I even a single sentence will reverberate in both directions simultaneously. For. this reason, the work must be read withj a sort of double vision, which allows us to watch both | i I strains in the work as their very different natures act and react upon each other. I ; One of the easiest ways to demonstrate that Part II ! ' ! ploes not have the same thematic or structural basis as Part j I is to apply the same episode labels (arms, love, litera- i ture) to it, and discover how poorly they describe the j events and their meaning. Instead of summarizing an episode- they distort it. It is only by discarding them as labels ! that we can locate the actual center of meaning and source i of unity for the work. The charts on ..the following pages list the major epi sodes. Every episode exhibits some form of deception. j First, there are cases where the deceptions of literature are turned on Don Quijote by other characters: the Duke and Duchess, Altisidora, Sanson Carrasco, and Don Antonio Moreno are major examples. Then there are situations where Section One Section Two Conversations at home Enchantment of Dulcinea Cart of Actors (Court of Death) Knight of the Mirrors Man in Green (Don Diego de Miranda) ^ions i jMiranda's son, the poet Camacho's wedding- I IScholar I Cave bf Montesinos Master Peter: ape and puppets Brayers Enchanted boat Conversations with the Duke and Duchess Disenchantment of Dulcinea (Cart of Demons) Countess Trifaldi (Center of Part I) Don Quijote's advice on government ; Altisidora's serenade * I Sancho's judgments j Don Quijote, Altisidora, the! belled cats Sancho, the physician, ; the petitioner I Doha Rodriguez's story ! Sancho's rounds of his i isle Teresa Panza I Sancho's riddle and letters ! i Doha Rodriguez's story Attack on Sancho's isle Ricote and Sancho Sancho in the pit Don Quijote's joust with j Tosilos Altisidora's lament, the departure 227 Section Three Rapid encounters Sancho defeats Don Quijote over Dulcinea's disenchantment Roque Guinart Claudia Jerdnima Barcelona, at Don Antonio Moreno's: Enchanted Head Printer Galleys Ana F^lix Knight of the White Moon (Center of Section Three) i Sancho's judgment Tosilos I ;Don Quijote proposes the pastoral life Trampling by swine Altisidora's funeral Sancho's lashes m _ Coda Don Alvaro Tarfe Don Quijote's death Key Issues in the i : Section One Conversations at home: Knight errantry Madness and sanity Wisdom and folly Government Sancho's isle Station in life Money Marriage Preaching Virtue and vice | Death Dulcinea (love) Part I Cide Hamete Benengeli (Moors) Historical truth Literary fiction Satires Enchanters Credulity Deception Arms and letters Greed Pride Thematic Overtures Section Two Conversations with Duke and Duchess: Knight errantry Honors and ceremonies Madness Wisdom and folly Part I Historical truth Waiting women Good and bad qualities of women Dulcinea (love) Enchanters Sancho's malice Government (justice) Sancho's isle Courtiers: priests and physicians Virtue and vice The soul Reproaches Deception Hypocrisy Anger Humiliation 229 Section Three Rapid encounters: Events: i Images of saints | Bird nets i Pastoral Arcadia j Trampling by bulls I Two men at inn Themes: f Liberty and captivity I Gratitude i T I Love ■ I Dulcinea Enchantment Death The soul I t Preaching j Virtue and vice j Anger and arrogance Shame i Gluttony Animals Part I Avellaneda's Part II Historical truth i Deception i Madness and sanity Wisdom and folly , 23- 0 characters practice deception for extra-literary reasons: iSancho, Basilio, Maese Pedro, the actors, and Roque Guinart are the more prominent cases. Finally, there are episodes where things are the source of deception: costumes, trick I i knives, dreams, rumors. Often more than one type of decep- i tion will function in an event. All of these external sources of deception, .are compounded by the tendency of cer tain characters to deceive themselves. In addition to Don jQuijote, whose self-deception supports the entire story, I i there are the Brayers, the Scholar, and the shepherds and ^shepherdesses in the pastoral Arcadia. Those episodes which I do the least to dramatize one of the forms of deception are j those which contribute most directly to the eventual dis- 1 i I illusionment, such as the two tramplings. j The layers of trickery and deceit listed above are all restricted to the realm of physical reality. There is yet another layer of deception: the spiritual. In a deeper sense, all of the characters practice some form of self- I deception. They confine their vision to worldly goals in stead of seeking spiritual truth, and therefore dupe them- ! selves as to which values are most important. Sancho seeks his isle, Don Quijote his Dulcinea, the Duke and Duchess their entertainment. Only Don Diego de Miranda acts with . 2 3 1 |an awareness of his spiritual goals. The other characters I often discuss the issues of sin and virtue, but their ac tions and goals seldom reflect the wisdom of their speeches. jThe sporadic efforts toward virtue fail, for the most part, to develop into a sustained behavior pattern. The one I 'exception is Don Quijote when he becomes Alonso Quijano on his death bed. ; Thus, the unity of Part II is found in the applicabil- : I jity of the theme of deception and disillusionment to every ; ( i i ;episode in the text. It is based on the belief that the ' works of man are deceptive; the works of God in the physical: I land spiritual worlds are not. t i The outermost layer of structure is both circular and .linear. Don Quijote departs from and returns to his home, a physical circle. But when he returns he is on the verge I I of a metamorphosis brought about by his experiences. He has; traveled in a line, like an Everyman, from total ignorance, folly, and madness in Part I, to a partial dawning of sense at the outset of Part II, which allows the potential for his instruction in life and in values through his adventures, to a final onset of the realization of his error, culminating in his desengano. This change closes the larger circle of the two Parts, returning Alonso Quijano to the state he 232 occupied before his madness commenced. On this level the work appears to be primarily apologic and exemplary, but the satiric episodes are very much a part of the process of the knight's spiritual enlightenment, for they contribute exam- i pies of human vice, frailty, and malice. This is "sermones al modo de Horacio." ! I Within this structure there are two others. One func- 1 tions parodically to generate comedy. It is dependent, upon hhe reader's ability to recognize that the bulk of the mate-i rials in Part II are simply a reworking of the characters ’ and events from Part I. It contributes, thus, to the game I i the narrator plays with the reader's credulity, while it I comments ironically on the historical veracity of Part I. The characters frequently affirm the authenticity of the [ i events in Part I at the same time that this parodic level ofj structure asserts its pure fictionality by creating out of the same materials a totally different book. Some of the more noteworthy elements of this parody are the placement of Camacho's wedding, a stylized pastoral j event, at the one-quarter position, exactly where the pas- j toral episode of Marcela and Grisdstomo appears in Part I. The triangularity of the relationship is reminiscent of Cardenio-Luscinda-Fernando, because of the emphasis on the , 2 3 3 social position of the two competing lovers. At the one- half position, corresponding to the episodes of Don Qui- jdte's penance in the Sierra Morena, the story of Dorotea, and the masquerade as Princess Micomicona, are the episodes of instruction for Dulcinea's disenchantment and the Coun- j 1 tess Trifaldi. Where Don Quijote chose to undertake his own penance to prove his devotion to Dulcinea, now Sancho is assigned a penance for his trick of "enchanting" her. The ! jCountess Trifaldi is a parodic blend of Princess Micomicona I ;and Dorotea. This time it is actually a man in the dis- 1 I Iguise, in fulfillment of the original plan from Part I. i ; i Instead of the tale of a giant, however, the story resembles| that told by Dorotea about her own misadventures caused by i I allowing a man in her bed. Doha Rodriguez's story, of j course, parallels both Dorotea and Trifaldi, and stands in I a similar relationship of real to fantasy distress as Doro- > tea does to Micomicona. To cap the parallels, the Trifaldi , episode is immediately followed by Sancho sending a letter to his wife, a prosaic counterpart of the letter from Don Quijote to his imaginary lady, but equally comic in its own way. Of course,.Sancho's letter gets a real answer, unlike the invented one that Don Quijote's undelivered letter re ceived. The core of the second half of Part I, the adventures at the inn, has been shifted. In the first place, inns are replaced in Part II with private homes: Don Diego de Miran-! da's, the Duke and Duchess's, and Don Antonio de Moreno's. I In place of the serving wench, Maritornes, we have a young | waiting woman, Altisidora, who is equally mischievous and j i I forward. The largest stationary section has been moved to j the exact center of the work, improving the symmetry and I ( marking off a three-part structure. This, too, derives from; Part I, since the clusters of arms and love episodes pro- i gressed in three sets of pairs, indicating a three-part ! i symmetry. The events from the long stay at the inn, how- ever, have been divided between two stationary sections here. At the Duke and Duchess's Don Quijote's adventures j with mischievous women, and the Trifaldi and Rodriguez problems are resolved. The parallels to the Captive and Zoraida, Don Luis and Dona Clara are postponed to the stay in Barcelona, where they appear blended together in the story of Ana F^lix. As the events at the Duke and Duchess's; compose the exact center third of the work, so the events ini Barcelona comprise the exact center third of the last sec tion. This shift substantially improves the geometric sym metry of the work. 235 I Another point of importance in the paralleling of mate rials is Don Quijote's defeat by the Knight of the White Moon. It concludes the stay in Barcelona, as the baciyelmo battle concluded the stay at the inn. It results in his i actual return home, just as, after the baciyelmo battle, the| i "enchantment" and caging of Don Quijote resulted in his ' return home in Part I. This represents an alteration of the: I circular structure from Part I, because in the earlier book,' » ' ;the turning point from outward to inward motion occurred at ' the exact center of the work, when the Curate and Barber ibegan to manipulate the knight. The return was then inter- I ; rupted by the long stay at the inn, and the actual journey i I did not commence until near the end. Part II rectifies the • I discrepancy by continuing the outward motion until the j actual moment of defeat and symbolic caging in the will of t another. The choice of such a late turning point in the physical journey in Part II is appropriate because the addi- tional time is needed for the education of the knight. It prepares him to accept the significance of the defeat in hisj soul and mind as well as in his imagination. i The second structure within the overarching circle of the knight's journey is also based on a symmetry first ex plored in Part I. Its function is more to reveal the unique 236 meaning of Part II than to parody Part I. I mentioned it briefly above when commenting on the new emphasis on a clearly delimited three-part symmetry, which had been sug gested in Part I by the sets of arms and love episodes. The three sections are outlined on the charts above. Each of the three sections develops in its own direc- I tion. They are organized in terms of the goals they pursue.! Section One attacks all of the manifestations of knight 1 errantry, but especially the adventures involving arms and I literature. In the process, it establishes the madness and ; I sinfulness of both Don Quijote and Sancho. The satire is also projected into the realm of contemporary society. By showing the trickery and folly of all men through charactersj like Sans6 n, Basilio, Maese Pedro, and the Brayers, Section [ i One draws a parallel between the ridicule directed at the literary figure of Don Quijote and the ridicule appropriate 1 to men in general. At the same time, it establishes the i characters' sinfulness, implying that all men need to reform their ways as much as, if not more than, Don Quijote and Sancho. i Section Two continues each of these strains. It as signs the literary satire to Don Quijote, whose adventures focus on love, the other half of knight errantry. Sancho's 237 governorship develops the social satire by attacking gover nors and those who govern them (e.g., priests and physi cians) . The alternating pattern of episodes is based on the two targets of attack deriving from love and government: i i women and governors. ! The institutions of the society are less the target of the ridicule than are the people who administer or benefit j | from them. For example, courtiers are ridiculed for their ! dress and behavior as early as Chapter 1, but I find no evidence of any objection to the existence of an aristoc- ] racy. On the contrary, it is social climbers, those who try! | : to blur distinctions of class and birth, who are criticized through Sancho and Teresa. Don Quijote's love adventures also have a contemporary [ i I relevance. There is a general attack on women who are for- I ward, gossipy, lightheaded, hasty, and indiscreet. From the. evidence of Part II, this would appear to be almost all women. Only the Duchess and Quiteria are not wholly con demned. They, like most of the men, are deceivers, and cornel in for the general moral message, but the other women, espe cially waiting women, are treated quite harshly. On a moral level, Sancho's decision to renounce the isle is evidence of spiritual reform. He achieves the 238 greatest level of humility and virtue yet seen in Part II. It is not total, however, for he promptly falls from his peak at the beginning of Section Three. His animal nature is difficult to overcome. Yet his awakening prefigures Don Quijote"s total cure. Section Three continues the revelation of man's decep- I t tion and corruption. By this point, the transition from chivalric literature to life is nearly complete. Fewer of the adventures are tied to models from the romances. The .inspiration is closer to contemporary reality (e.g., Roque ; I Guinart and the Printer), although the themes they develop i i are the same. As the importance of chivalry diminishes, so I does the comic satire. The last section is much more som- l ber, moralizing, and permeated with symbols of sin, filth, J and animality, like the bulls and swine. By pressing a t I series of humiliations on Don Quijote, it forces him to an i awareness of his errors, which is a necessary prelude to a complete spiritual rebirth. The structure of each section enhances the sense of their semi-independent status within the work. This is done through the use of parallel episodes and clearly marked beginnings and endings. Each starts with a thematic over ture which establishes the central topics for that section. 239 I The first two use a series of conversations for this pur pose; the third uses a series of rapid encounters. Immedi ately after the overture, each section turns to an episode involving Dulcinea. During or just after these episodes is an event which further defines thematic concerns through j symbolic devices: the cart of actors, the procession of ! ■ I I enchanters and demons, and the religious images. The sense : of an ending is given through episodes involving near-death I and actual death, followed by a radical change in the set ting. The first section ends with the enchanted boat, when Don Quijote and Sancho both come near to drowning. Through- i out the first section they have been on the road; now the action turns to a series of stationary episodes at the Duke and Duchess's. The central events of the second, more sta- , tionary section are Sancho's governorship, which concludes , i with the potentially fatal accident when he falls into a pit and expects to die there. Shortly after Sancho is reunited with Don Quijote, the setting changes once again to events along the road. The last section ends with Don Quijote's j actual death. Each section includes an episode involving Moors (pup pets, Ricote, Ana F^lix), a joust (Knight of the Mirrors, Tosilos, Knight of the White Moon), a story of deception in 240 love (Basilio, Countess Trifaldi and Dona Rodriguez, Claudia Jerdnima), and a discussion of a previous version of Don Quijote (Part I or Avellaneda1s). The last section has the additional feature of being structured as a microcosm of Part II as a whole. Section i One is based primarily on a mdlange of adventures encoun tered on the road and so is the first quarter of the last I section. The second quarter is composed of the events in j i i Barcelona, where the knight is in captivity similar to that ' exploited by the Duke and Duchess. At the exact center is Don Quijote's defeat by the Knight of the White Moon, the i definitive moment which forces him to turn homeward. ! The events in the first half recall many of the events from Section One. I have listed them according to the order, of events in Section Three. Section Three, first half Section One Religious images Pastoral Arcadia Cart of actors Camacho's wedding Lions Bulls Sancho defeats Don Quijote over Dulcinea's disenchant ment Sancho enchants Dulcinea Don Antonio Moreno Roque Guinart Claudia Jeronima Maese Pedro (Ginds) Basilio Don Diego de Miranda 241 Section Three, first half Enchanted head Printer Galleys Ana F§lix Knight of the White Moon Section One Maese Pedro * s ape Scholar Enchanted boat Puppets Knight of the Mirrors Most of the similarities are obvious. Roque and Gin§s, for instance, are both examples of men who live outside the | i law. The Printer and Scholar episodes both involve satire ' .of literature. The chart helps to reveal what different use- has been made of very similar materials. The episodes in iSection One are usually comic in tone, and Don Quijote's defeats are not too humiliating. By Section Three, however,! the tone has grown much more serious and the episodes are ! more clearly focused on the moral message of the apologue. Basilio's fake suicide has been transformed into the real murder by Claudia Jer6 nima of her lover. The seeming vic tory over the lions has been translated into a trampling by bulls. The farce of Melisendra's rescue in the puppet show , j is turned into a matter of life and death for Ana F§lix. The author's use of similar materials in these two sections brings out by their contrast the way that Part II moves from an emphasis on the satire to an emphasis on the apologue. The last half of Section Three continues the develop ment of the microcosm. Two adventures recall the dominant events of Section Two: Sancho's judgment and the encounter .with Tosilos remind us of the two major subjects in that I section, government and love. The next two adventures re call the earlier events of Section Three: the trampling and I the pastoral life. Finally we arrive at a coda of four | I episodes which recapitulate all the major themes of Part II:| jdeath, love, enchantment, literature, and deception. The relative independence of each section is appropri ate in view of the fact that they contribute in very differ-} i ent ways to the unifying concept of deception. Yet the parallels in their structures affirm their equal importance ,and the underlying unanimity of function, goal, and theme, j The first section is primarily devoted to establishing that,! i although Don Quijote now exhibits moments of sanity and 1 wisdom, his illusions and self-deception are still very strong. The center section is both the deepest immersion into the acting out of his fantasies, abetted by the Duke j and Duchess, and the dawning of a realization that things have gotten out of his control, that reality is not so readily molded as his madness assumed. The entrapment of his actions in their schemes symbolizes his mental ' , 2 4 3 | I I entrapment in his madness, but the very extremity of the situation helps to stimulate a reaction in the opposite direction. In the third section, that reaction is devel- * oped, very erratically, into a general disillusionment that i gains in strength until it finally drives out his fantasies.j Thus far I have made all my observations about the i structure of Part II without any reference to the function | I i of Cide Hamete Benengeli. The reason for this is the same ! Jas in Part I. Benengeli is not a factor in determining the structure, but a character serving to ridicule the pretense I of historical validity in the romances. i l | ! Benengeli does actually frame the story now. Chapter 1; opens with "Cuenta Cide Hamete Benengeli ..." Chapter 74 closes with his address to his pen. Within that compass, j i l however, the author's games with layers of narrators and translator is purely a device to help him realize his origi-> i nal objective: "... poner en aborrecimiento de los hombres las fingidas y disparatadas historias de los libros de caballerias, ..." (VIII, 335; 940). These intermediaries j are a constant reminder that the characters have only a i fictional existence. The irony of Benengeli as a "chronicler" is established by impugning his veracity, exactly as it was done in Part I. | 244] i Don Quijote worries about the account of his adventures: ... desconsolSle pensar que su autor era moro, segtan aquel nombre de Cide, y de los moros no se podia espe- rar verdad alguna, porque todos son embelecadores, falsarios y quimeristas. (V, 6 6 ; 485) i i I The existence of Part I adds another layer to this game1 of pseudo-histories. Don Quijote and Sancho certify the I accuracy of the story told in Part I, and are recognized by I the people they meet who are familiar with Part I. Yet they express incredulity at the speed with which their adventures! 1 I i were put into print, and there is an ironic reference to Benengeli searching madly for Part II before the adventures have even begun (Ch. 4). This paradox of seeming historical ! I reality confronted with impossible time scales and anachron-J lisms is one more satiric device. J Since each of the three sections of Part II functions as a coherent unit of meaning within the larger pattern of I deception and disillusionment, it will be simplest to structure the analysis in three corresponding parts. Section One The Prologue to Part II is relatively useless for establishing the tone and direction of the work, in compari son to that of Part I. It does, however, contribute one ,useful piece of evidence to support the contention that Don ' 2 45 Quijote is a satiric figure. The two stories equating Avellaneda with madmen indicate a low opinion of madmen in | general, which reflects back on Don Quijote. But the vul- j ; garity of the stories would lead us to expect a more raucous i satire than we actually encounter. As a consequence of the relatively inadequate Pro- i I logue, Section One itself bears the burden of recalling the i features of Part I while laying the foundations for Part II. 1 i : ;lt must create the tone appropriate to the blending of ( satire and apologue. j Being the closest in reading sequence to Part I, it is j I i natural that Section One shows a marked similarity of theme and content. The themes detailed in the thematic overtures are the familiar ones: the chivalric cluster of love, arms,, and madness; and the literary cluster of the Moorish narra tor, historical truth, and the accuracies and errors of i ■Part I. However, the new themes appropriate to the goals of Part II are also introduced immediately: the moral cluster of virtue and vice, death, preaching, and deception;j and the social cluster of marriage, money, social position, i women, and government. Although the themes fall naturally into clusters, I listed them earlier individually, and perhaps in excessive detail, because the clusters overlap 246 in several ways. For example, deception relates to all of the clusters, marriage relates to the chivalric and moral clusters as well as the social, enchantment relates to the [chivalric, literary, and moral. i > I One of the earliest adventures, the cart of actors, j •reiterates the main themes of the overture. Although the episode satirizes Don Quijote for his gullibility and cowar-| i dice, the themes are expressed allegorically to amplify the ' apologue. The characters portrayed by the actors symbolize ■each of the major subjects of Part II. I > ; i ; ! El que guiaba las mulas y servla de carretero era un [ feo demonio. ... La primera figura que se ofrecid a los ' ojos de don Quijote fui la de la misma Muerte, con [ rostro humano; junto i ella venla un ingel con unas grandes y pintadas alas; al un lado estaba un emperador con una corona, al parecer de oro, en la cabeza; i los pies de la Muerte estaba el dios que llaman Cupido, sin venda en los ojos, pero con su areo, carcax y saetas; venla tambiin un caballero armado de punta en bianco, excepto que no trala morridn, ni celada, sino un som- | brero lleno de plumas de diversos colores; con istas \ venlan otras personas de diferentes trajes y rostros. (V, 204-05; 534. My emphasis) Estando en estas pliticas, quiso la suerte que lle- gase uno de la companla, que venia vestido de bogiganga, 1 con muchos cascabeles, y en la punta de un palo trala I tres vejigas de vaca hinchadas; el cual moharracho, ... (V, 207; 535. My emphasis) Death, the demon, and the angel indicate the religious theme. The emperor and cupid suggest the themes of govern ment and love, which dominate Section Two. The knight and : 247 ■clown are clearly symbols for Don Quijote and Sancho.10 In | the actor's description of his players, there is also ref- j erence to a queen (V, 206; 535), who represents Dulcinea. j .This appearance of the symbols of death in conjunction with I : the major occupations of life is a frequent device in the work for reminding the characters and the readers of their I I mortality. ' The overtures also establish the essential natures of |the two main characters. As Don Quijote and Sancho are i I I reintroduced, the first traits they exhibit confirm the , impression of parodic stereotyping from Part I. Don Qui- jote's essential characteristic is quickly established to be his chivalric madness. Sancho is immediately marked as I i credulous about the isle his master promised. Thus, they j continue to provide targets for the ridicule of the satire. However, Part II is homiletic satire, and their characters 1 i are modified to conform to its needs. The foundation for the apologic pattern is laid in the first paragraph when we are informed that Don Quijote "por momentos iba dando muestras de estar en su entero juicio; 10Sancho is called "juglar" by Doha Rodriguez (VI, 236; 667) and "truhan moderno y majadero antiguo" by Don Quijote .(VI, 241; 669). 248 ..." (V, 25; 471). If the knight is to achieve his salva- 1 I ,tion through a return to sanity, then there must be evidence that the potential for a cure is within his nature. His deathbed desengano is, therefore, foreseen from the first page. ; As a proof of Don Quijote's partial restoration of sanity, he no longer hallucinates. In fact, the narrator i places great emphasis on the fact that he recognizes inns as; j 'inns, that the peasant girl whom Sancho passes off as Dul- I cinea smells of garlic to Don Quijote, and that even the [ i flour mill looks like a flour mill to him, although he feelsi I I compelled to assert that it must be something else in dis guise. The only time the knight is deceived by his senses j in Part II is when the deception is abetted by costumes and j props. The source of illusions is primarily the imagination! i of other characters, more evidence that Don Quijote's mind 1 is functioning more normally. The one exception is his i dream in the Cave of Montesinos, where his subconscious roams unhindered. j The wisdom Don Quijote expounds is protected from the taint of satire in three ways. First, it is perfectly con ventional for the period, and therefore the readers of that time would understand it to be meant seriously, not 1 249 i » humorously. 11 Second, the wise remarks are usually affirmed by a remark from another character expressing wonderment at the knight's wisdom, or avowing that he speaks like a ipreacher. And finally, the speeches are logical and elo- ! quent, thus conforming to the rhetorical standards set forth: in Part I. When he speaks well, Don Quijote is functioning i i i within the meaning of the apologue; when he speaks poorly, | i he is functioning to serve the satire. The main difference i jfrom Part I is that in Part II the poorly constructed, fool-! i ish speeches are completely restricted to the subject of ! i chivalry, whereas in the earlier work the knight was often J i [foolish on other subjects as well. j However, any speech may contain a mixture of wisdom and ;folly, apologue and satire. There was an important prece dent in Part I in the Arms and Letters speech, when the framing remarks on chivalry were a satiric contrast to the central, serious remarks on soldiers. In Part II the tran sitions within speeches are more frequent and more rapid. i Like the larger structure of the episodes, the structure of | the speeches is a complex and volatile blend of the two "Unlike the writer of satire, the writer of apologue is called upon to reveal by fictional example his positive 'beliefs" (Sacks, p. 60). strains. It is a radical change to discover that suddenly we are [expected to agree with Don Quijote's opinions on literature and life, except where chivalry is involved. But exactly this sort of modification is necessary to the successful [integration of the apologue into the satire. If the apo logue is really to share an equal position in the work, its chief voice must be as important and central to the work as |the chief target of the satire is. The author could either use two main characters, one black and one white, or do the more complex thing and make both main characters a mixture ,of the faults condemned in the satire and the virtues es poused by the apologue. The latter is obviously the case here, and helps to give them a more nearly human composi tion. 1 Yet we can never fully forget that Don Quijote and Sancho are subordinate to the development of the ideas in the work. Their purely arbitrary shifts between virtue and vice, to which I shall return, and their inordinate self- consciousness when they function simultaneously as actors in and narrators of the story keep us aware of their rhetorical rather than psychological nature. An example of each will quickly show how startlingly unrealistic the self- 251 consciousness is. Don Quijote comments on the condition of t his madness after the Barber's story of the madman in Chap- I i ter 1. He is able to apply the point of it to himself and j |his own behavior. j ' i ... y si Jtapiter, como ha dicho el Barbero, no lloviere, aqui estoy yo, que llover§ cuando se me antojare. Digo esto porque sepa el sehor Bacia que le entiendo. (V, ; 42-43; 478) Sancho remarks, ... bien es verdad que soy algo malicioso, y que tengo 1 mis ciertos asomos de bellaco; pero todo lo cubre y tapa ; la gran capa de la simpleza mia, siempre natural y nunca ! artificiosa; ... (V, 151; 516. My emphasis) t i The dry irony in the latter remark shows the kind of incon- 1 j sistency in characterization that would harm a novel, but isi helpful to apologue and satire since it succeeds in further ing one of the main ideas, that is, the blend of goodness and evil in man. The knight's odd double vision— awareness of his mad ness without admitting that he is mad— does, however, ob liquely contribute to our sense of his increased sanity and wisdom. It is an indication of more perceptiveness and intelligence, which is supported by other evidence. For example, Don Quijote is now shrewd enough to use reverse psychology on Sancho when the squire shows hesitancy about accompanying Don Quijote on this adventure. 252 Qu^dese el nuevo Sans6 n en su patria, y honrcindola, j honre juntamente las canas de sus ancianos padres; que yo con cualquier escudero estarS contento, ya que San cho no se digna de venir conmigo. (V, 138-39; 512) I Another effect of the increased importance of apologue i i < is that all of the character traits are now interpreted j morally as well as satirically. Don Quijote's chivalric 1 12 1 madness causes him to sin through pride and vanity. San- i cho's credulous belief in the isle he will acquire causes him to sin through greed and envy. In the course of the i book the two main characters will exhibit, between them, all; i !of the seven deadly sins. 1 i The direct cause of their sin is the influence of the ; chivalric romances, because they make vice appear attrac- j tive. What Don Quijote and Sancho must learn is to exchange! 12 Otis H. Green has commented convincingly on Don Qui jote 's sin of pride in "El ingenioso hidalgo," Hispanic Review, 25 (1957), 175-93. "Don Quijote's besetting sin is hubris, and it is only in the final chapters of the book that he achieves Christian humility, starting in II, 58" (p. 181, his emphases). I concur with these conclusions, except that I find hints of the knight's coming conversion much earlier than Chapter 58. The best example of an early display of humility occurs when he wishes the weapon carrier to tell the story of the Brayers at the inn. His eagerness for once overcomes his careful concern for the code of chi valric privileges, and he lends a hand in the stable, "ahechlindole la cebada y limpiando el pesebre, humilidad que oblig6 al hombre c i contarle con buena voluntad lo que le pedla ..." (VI, 134; 630). : 2531 i ! 'the wisdom of the Bible for the false wisdom of the roman- i ces, the ideals of the spirit for the misguided and worldly ideals of chivalry. The.process of education is through a ;journey, the archetypal metaphor for life. Don Quijote I shows a knowledge of this .concept in his first sermon. j , ... s£ que la senda de la virtud es muy estrecha, y el j camino del vicio, ancho y espacioso; y s§ que sus fines y paraderos son diferentes; porque el del vicio, dila- j tado y espacioso, acaba en muerte, y el de la virtud, | angosto y trabajoso, acaba en vida, y no en vida que se ! acaba, sino en la que no tendrcL fin; ... (V, 123-24; | 507) Here are expressed all of the major elements of the reli- j I • igious theme: vice, virtue, death, and eternal life. Nonetheless, Don Quijote defends his calling at the \ I same time that he affirms his concern for the salvation of i I his soul. In Chapter 1, for example, he recites a litany ' • of the virtues of his chivalric models. He is still not ,ready to admit that knight errantry is not the correct way to achieve those virtues and reach his just reward. It is the goal of the apologue to make him aware that only by renouncing the distorted ideals of chivalry can he actually attain the ideals of his religion. This will be made mani fest in the last scene, through his awakening into sanity and virtue. The first time the issues are clearly exposed is 254 immediately after knight and squire leave home. While they travel toward El Toboso they fall into discussion. In try- | ing to justify his craving for fame, Don Quijote explains toj Sancho how a Christian knight must achieve fame through his ] virtues, and that the deeds of knights are symbolic ways of vanquishing vices. He continues: I Todas estas y otras grandes y diferentes hazahas son, ! fueron y serein obras de la fama, que los mortales de- j sean como premios y parte de la inmortalidad que sus famosos hechos merecen, puesto que los cristianos, cat6 - i licos y andantes caballeros mSs habemos de atender ci la 1 gloria de los siglos venideros, que es eterna en las ! regiones et^reas y celestes, que ci la vanidad de la fama . que en este presente y acabable siglo se alcanza; la | j cual fama, por mucho que dure, en fin se ha de acabar ; con el mesmo mundo, que tiene su fin senalado: asi Ioh SanchoI que nuestras obras no han de salir del limite , que nos tiene puesto la religi6 n cristiana, que profe- j samos. Hemos de matar en los gigantes 3 la soberbia; ; ci la envidia, en la generosidad y buen pecho; § . la ira, en el reposado continente y quietud del cLnimo; ci la \ gula y al sueno, en el poco comer que comemos y en el mucho velar que velamos; 3 . la lujuria y lascivia, en la ; lealtad que guardamos 3 las que hemos hecho senoras de J nuestros pensamientos; 3 la pereza, con andar por todas | las partes del mundo, buscando las ocasiones que nos ; puedan hacer y hagan, sobre cristianos, famosos caba lleros. Ves aqui, Sancho, los medios por donde se al- canzan los extremos de alabanzas que consigo tfae la buena fama. (V, 155-56; 518) j Sancho, however, is quick to see the flaw in this reasoning.| He points out that knight errantry is not the best way of achieving these goals. — Quiero decir — dijo Sancho— que nos demos 3 ser 255 santos, y alcanzaremos mSs brevemente la buena fama que pretendemos; ... Asi que, senor mio, mSs vale ser un humilde frailedto, de cualquier orden que sea, que valiente y andante caballero; mSs alcanzan con Dios dos docenas de diciplinas que dos mil lanzadas, ... (V, 159-60; 519-20) j i I ; I The problem with the pursuit of knight errantry as outlined j i in the romances is that the desire for worldly fame and ! rewards outweighs the desire for eternal rewards, and the ! I two are basically incompatible. Worldly fame is the source | ;of corruption. Its effect is to make the knight proud, I 'arrogant, and vain. Don Quijote is described after his victory over the Knight of the Mirrors as "contento, ufano I t ( y vanaglorioso" (V, 271; 560). These worldly victories lead one into sin, rather than serving to conquer evil impulses, as Don Quijote would have us believe in his speech. i | If Don Quijote really wanted to model himself on Chris-; I i tian knights, he would not be imitating Roland and Amadis. ! !He would choose to follow St. George or St. James. This I point is driven home at the beginning of Section Three, but through Sections One and Two, we are forced to watch him erri as he imitates the wrong models. i The speech above is also significant because in short compass it describes six of the seven deadly sins: soberbia {pride or vainglory), envidia (envy), ira (anger), gula y 256 sueno (gluttony and sleep), lujuria y lascivia (luxury or self-indulgence and lust), and pereza (sloth). The only one left out is covetousness, although it is so close to envy that the two might be considered covered by the one term. This listing of sins at the outset of Don Quijote's adven- ; tures is a warning of the possible ways in which he or San- j I i cho may err in their actions. In the course of the adven- I tures, every one of these sins will be committed by one of ! the two main characters. ! i i The proper means of avoiding these sins is suggested i here. One must practice the corresponding virtues, and a j i high value is placed on penitence. The knight and squire . will be seen occasionally to demonstrate a virtue such as | .humility or generosity, but until these virtues dominate j i their behavior, they cannot be said to have reformed. i Penitence also plays a large role in the adventures, mostly i .in a spirit of mockery. That Sancho never does actually fulfill the penance of lashes for Dulcinea is perhaps a symbolic explanation of why his character fails to be per- j manently reformed by his experiences as governor of the | isle. He is unwilling to sacrifice too much, even for the sake of his soul. Don Quijote's penitence will also take on a symbolic nature through the humiliations and defeats he 257 is forced to endure in Section Three. As the knight!s sufferings are more real than the squire's, so is his reform more successful. Don Quijote is particularly prone to three of the seven i deadly sins: pride or vainglory, anger, and lust or luxury.j ! The incidence of vainglory has already been described. Anger is manifested frequently, and the sure means of touch ing it off is to demean Dulcinea's beauty. Sans6n plays on j jthis weakness for his own ends as Knight of the Mirrors. An: even better example is the puppet show. When Don Quijote jattacks the puppet Moors his violence terrifies the on lookers, and Sancho comments: "... jamis habla visto H su senor con tan desatinada c6 lera" (VI, 167; 642). The ques tion of lust is a bit more delicate to portray, since the author is prevented from showing too much lasciviousness by i his own religious convictions and the standards of the time.i I All that can be given is a suggestion that the knight's mind does not always keep to the proper paths when contemplating women. He does not yield to temptation, but the examples from his books of chivalry keep him ever aware of the possi bility of this sort of behavior. Altisidora is his great temptation in Part II. When she serenades him, ... imagind que alguna doncella de la Duquesa estaba j 258 I d£l enamorada, y que la honestidad la forzaba § , tener secreta su voluntad, teraid no le rindiese, y propuso 1 en su pensamiento el no dejarse veneer; ... (VII, ; 140-41; 751) i j Sancho is forever submitting to the temptations of the ! I lother four sins, plus some less serious ones. He rapidly | 1 ! .offers proof of his gluttony, sloth, covetousness, envy, j , i 'malice and hypocrisy. The last two arise when he fakes the [enchantment of Dulcinea. There is no suggestion here that i |the village girls might actually be Dulcinea and her I Ifriends. On the contrary, their offensive reality is empha-, [sized in order to prove the squire's sinful deception, the ! i Iknight's foolish credulity, and their shared madness in trying to manipulate reality to conform with literature. i Sancho admits his decision to lie before he begins: "... noi serS muy dificil hacerle creer que una labradora, la primera que topare por aqui, es la sehora Dulcinea; ..." (V, 183-84; 1527). Don Quijote is successfully duped, and "Harto tenia que hacer el socarrdn de Sancho en disimular la risa, oyendo las sandeces de su amo, tan delicadamente enganado" (V, 197; i 532) . The squire's covetousness and envy are linked to the issue of the isle he has been promised, and to the wages he would like to be paid. From governing the isle he hopes to 259 achieve a high social status. Y c&sese £ Mari Sancha con quien yo quisiero, y ver&s como te llaman a ti dona Teresa Panza, y te sientas en la iglesia sobre alcatifa, almohadas y arambeles, S i pesar y despecho de las hidalgas del pueblo. (V, 106; | 500) ( Later, when Sancho begins to doubt that the promise will be fulfilled, he begins to demand monetary compensation at so outrageous a rate that Don Quijote exclaims, ... ddices, Sancho, que ha veinte ahos que te prometi la insula? Ahora digo que quieres que se consuma en tus salarios el dinero que tienes mio; ... (VI, 200- 01; 654-55) 1 Sancho1s gluttony, drunkenness and sloth show up most I clearly in the episodes of the Knight of the Mirrors and ; I Camacho's Wedding. Sancho and Tom£ are the very picture of I isurfeit as they collapse together after their drinking bout. 1 Finalmente, tanto hablaron y tanto bebieron los dos buenos escuderos, que tuvo necesidad el sueno de atarles las lenguas y templarles la sed, que quit^rsela fuera imposible; y asi, asidos entrambos de la ya casi vacia bota, con los bocados I L medio mascar en la boca, se que- daron dormidos, donde los dejaremos por ahora, ... (V, 246; 549-50) i On the morning of Camacho's wedding, Sancho must be prodded awake. "DespertS, en fin, sonoliento y perezoso, ..." (VI, 29; 595). His first impulse is to look after his stomach, to which Don Quijote responds: "Acaba, glot6 n" (VI, 29; I 260 i : 595). Lest we think that the knight is too severe in his I i reprimand, Sancho soon heads straight for the cooking pots, thus showing himself deserving of the title. Yet Sancho is not too hopeless a sinner. He shows a potential for a virtuous and wise outlook as early as Chap ter 4. This occurs, of course, in relationship to the isle ■ • he has been promised, for all his acts are ultimately moti- ' i vated by his attitude toward this promise. One moment he jcannot wait to get the money and honors it would confer; the next he demonstrates a philosophical indifference. I Yo, sehor Sansdn, no pienso granjear fama de valiente, sino del mejor y mSs leal escudero que jamcis sirvi6 $ . caballero andante; y si mi sehor don Quijote, obligado de mis muchos y buenos servicios, quisiere darme alguna insula de las muchas que su merced dice que se ha de j topar por ahi, recibir£ mucha merced en ello; y cuando i no me la diere, nacido soy, y no ha de vivir el hombre I en hoto de otro sino de Dios; y mSs, que tan bien, y ( aun quizci mejor, me sabrli el pan desgobernado que siendo gobernador; y £sS yo por ventura si en esos gobiernos me I tiene aparejada el diablo alguna zancadilla donde tro- piece y caiga y me haga las muelas? (V, 93-94; 495) i Sancho1s traces of concern for his soul and the wiles of the devil alternate with his sinful actions throughout Section ; ■One, with neither side of his character winning. Just like Don Quijote, he is a representative of both the good and evil in man, although his sins are more of the bodily than the mental appetites. 261 But for the satire to be successful, the work must show •more than the religious failings of the main characters. They must also be made to appear ridiculous or incongruous. ' I :In this section, the satire is usually based on an adventure! of arms. The first instance is the joust with the Knight of the i Mirrors. In the discussion leading up to the actual en counter, Sansdn induces the knight to exhibit at length his .foolish preoccupations, while Tom§ Cecial makes a fool of ,Sancho. The mock knights come to blows over the exaggerated i * I importance of the issue of who has the more beautiful mis- , i ; tress. The mock squires become fast friends as one teaches ! I the other than such words as "puta" are compliments to a i i f I lady. Both the mock epic and burlesque sides of the issue | l i of courtly love are exploited here. When the two knights engage in battle, Don Quijote appears to win the victory by unhorsing his opponent, but, in a way familiar from Part I, the narrator takes pains to establish that the victory is really unjust because unfairly achieved. Sansdn's horse had made a false start and was then halted to wait until Don Quijote was ready, but Don Quijote failed to pay attention to the difficulties this created for the other knight. "Don Quijote, que no miraba 262 en estos inconvenientes, £ salvamano y sin peligro alguno encontrd al de los Espejos, ..." (V, 265; 557. My emphasis). By impugning the honor of the knight in the same sentence jthat his victory is announced, the narrator insures that we ! i see it as spurious. How can anyone possibly take seriously | a knight who defends the chivalric code in his speeches and j then ignores it in his actions? i His sins are compounded when we learn that the result of this false victory is not an increase in knightly virtue and modesty, but rather an increase in pride and arrogance. i He is reported as "En extremo contento, ufano y vanaglorio- * so" (V, 271; 560). This confirms the impression that the \ implementation of literary chivalry leads to sin instead of : I iChristian conduct. 1 The second arms encounter is when Don Quijote chal lenges the lions. The result here is also a criticism of I 'his character and motives. The seeming victory is again undercut by the narrator, this time with an intrusion of satiric hyperbole. Hasta aqui lleg6 el extremo de su jamcis vista locura. Pero el generoso le6 n, mSs comedido que arrogante, no haciendo caso de ninerlas ni de bravatas, despu^s de haber mirado £ una y otra parte, como se ha dicho, vol- vi6 las espaldas y enseh6 sus traseras partes £ don Quijote, y con gran flema y remanso, se volviS £ echar en la jaula; ... (V, 313; 576) ; 263 I i Don Quijote's behavior is judged to be childish, mad arro gance , no improvement over the discourteous folly of his behavior with Sans6 n. It is as though the lion is teaching Don Quijote a moral lesson: true nobility of action lies not in aggressive anger, but in generous composure. ' The next arms encounter is Don Quijote's absurd attack : i on Maese Pedro's puppet show. The performance of the story | of Melisendra is another layer in the literary satire, "a [ 1 I ■burlesque of a legend and of chivalric material in gener- j i 2.3 1 ,al." It gives additional proof that however improved the 1 f ! I j 'wisdom of the knight may be, he is still entirely within the! i i , grasp of his chivalric madness. i One of the most interesting features of this episode is; ;that it is the first occasion in Part II when Don Quijote j i attacks without warning. Sans6 n was expecting his charge, ( although unable to defend himself, and the lions deterred j ^him from any attack by their coolness. But this time he i impulsively throws everything over without warning, and at 1 great peril to those around him. As in Part I, he inflicts j i 13 George Haley, "The Narrator in Don Quijote: Maese Pedro's Puppet Show," Modern Language Notes, 80 (1965), 158. This excellent article gives a thorough and very sensitive analysis of the interrelationship between Don Quijote's adventures and the performance of the puppet show. 264 'wanton damage when he intended to perform an act of justice i :and mercy. Maese Pedro's complaint is reminiscent of the Ipoint made by the man whose leg was broken in the earlier 'episode of the corpse, that he was just fine until Don Qui- i [ I jote decided to "help." j i I • i ' ... y todo por la furia mal considerada deste sehor j | caballero, de quien se dice que ampara pupilos, y ende- j reza tuertos, y hace otras obras caritativas, y en mi solo ha venido S faltar su intenci6 n generosa, que sean , benditos y alabados los cielos, allcl donde tienen mis ! levantados sus asientos. En fin, el Caballero de la j 1 Triste Figura habia de ser aquel que habia de desfigu- rar las mias. (VI, 168-69; 643) ' I i jThis behavior is more in keeping with the aggressive and i : impulsive knight of Part I. For, in two of the major epi- sodes here, he is much more timid and cowardly. In the pre-^ viously mentioned case of the cart of actors, Don Quijote j « | challenges them, but when they respond by preparing to stone; i him, he rapidly reconsiders the odds. I Don Quijote, que los vi6 puestos en tan gallardo escua- dr6n, los brazos levantados con ademin de despedir poderosamente las piedras, detuvo las riendas i Roci- nante, y ptisose i pensar de qui modo les acometeria con menos peligro de su persona. (V, 211; 537) This is not the knight who formerly charged armies of thou sands without thought of personal harm (actually armies of sheep). He gratefully takes refuge behind Sancho's excuse for a retreat. 2651 The second incidence of Don Quijote's cowardice occurs j in the fourth arms episode, the battle of the two villages j over the Brayers. Once again the number of combatants j Iscares him off, and he quits the field in disgrace after j l i failing as a peacemaker. i | ... volvid las riendas A Rocinante, y H todo lo que su : galope pudo se sali6 de entre ellos, encomendSndose de todo corazdn § . Dios, que de aquel peligro le librase, ; temiendo S cada paso no le entrase alguna bala por las > espaldas y le saliese al pecho? y $ . cada punto recogia ; : el aliento, por ver si le faltaba. (VI, 191; 651) J I Perhaps these two instances of healthy fear in the face of terrible odds are another indication of his returning san ity. i Yet, lest we confuse the satire on chivalry with the I real profession of arms, there are two important episodes to| i counter that danger, just as the Captive's Tale did in Part I. Both cases praise more orthodox military skills and ex- | i ploits. i The first example is the duel between the two students on the way to Camacho's wedding. One student argues that i skill is more useful than force in martial encounters; the other argues that brute force is all that is necessary. The moral of the apologue is double. First, the skillful one wins, proving that "la fuerza es vencida del arte" (VI, 23; 593). The second moral points more directly at Don Quijote.1 *"Yo me contento — respondid Corchuelo— de haber caido de mi ! ( burra, y de que me haya mostrado la experiencia la verdad, j * I : de quien tan lejos estaba" (VI, 24; 593). As a result, | Corchuelo was "reducido su pertinacia" (VI, 24; 593). I I Corchuelo is a mirror for Don Quijote's madness and ob stinacy in the face of reality and experience. Both must be I ! brought low by their own games before they will admit their | error. Sansdn will serve this function for Don Quijote by i defeating him in fair combat. | The second instance is Don Quijote1s speech to the ^ 1 I i ; 'Brayers, another of the very important sermons in Part II. : i Earlier, Don Quijote lectured Sancho on Christian knights, , ; proving that he himself was not one. Now he lectures the villagers on who may take up arms, proving that he himself is not one. * Los varones prudentes, las repfiblicas bien concertadas, por cuatro cosas han de tomar las armas y desenvainar las espadas, y poner i . riesgo sus personas, vidas y haciendas; la primera, por defender la fe catdlica; la | segunda, por defender su vida, que es de ley natural y j divina; la tercera, en defensa de su honra, de su fami- lia y hacienda; la cuarta, en servicio de su rey, en la guerra justa; y si le quisi^remos ahadir la quinta (que se puede contar por segunda), es en defensa de su patria. A estas cinco causas, como capitales, se pueden agregar algunas otras que sean justas y razonables, y que obli- guen a tomar las armas; pero tomarlas por niherias y por cosas que antes son de risa y pasatiempo que de afrenta, ; 267 f ' parece que quien las toma carece de todo razonable dis- ! curso; ... (VI, 187-88; 649-50) I ;0f course, Don Quijote's own motivations are nifierias and i pasatiempos. Thus his own words condemn him. But the i ' thrust of the sermon is that true soldiers are admirable and' i j respected for their honorable motives, in exact opposition I to the fakeries of chivalric knights. j The arms episodes either ridicule Don Quijote and San- | I ' i jcho outright, or point a moral that puts them in a bad j i I 'light. When the subject of literature arises in Section 1. ;One, the ridicule is directed away from the protagonists, but again, the weapons are both satiric and apologic. Non-dramatic literature is discussed three times. Don I i Diego de Miranda, the first critic, takes over the role | i played by the Curate and Canon in Part I. He criticizes the romances of chivalry for being "tan en daho de las buenas icostumbres y tan en perjuicio y descrSdito de las buenas j historias" (V, 286; 566). Miranda balances this with praise; of those few works he approves. i Hojeo mils los que son profanos que los devotos, corao sean de honesto entretenimiento, que deleiten con el lenguaje y admiren y suspendan con la invenciSn, puesto que destos hay muy pocos en Espaha. (V, 288; 566) In this same conversation, Don Quijote escapes from the role • 268] 1 I of victim of literature, while he offers conventional wisdom 'on the subjects of satire and poetry, thus showing the dual : role he must play to fulfill the needs of satire and apo logue . I The second instance is quite brief. At Miranda's home,i ■Don Quijote remarks on the uselessness of writing poetic I glosses. It is in the third occurrence that a major attack ■ 1 is made on a type of.literature other than the chivalric | I ■romances. This is the discussion with the scholar who 1 i ■ ) ■guides Don Quijote and Sancho to the Cave of Montesinos. It! I' i !is an attack on the absurdities of pedantry, much like that ■pursued in the Prologue to Part I. The criticism are famil- i iar: the triviality, pretentiousness, and wastefulness of 1 i i the effort. Here, as in all of Part II, there is a combi- | ! ! nation of satire on books and a moral statement. Don Qui jote speaks the apologic message. ... hay algunos que se cansan en saber y averiguar cosas, que despuSs de sabidas y averiguadas, no impor- tan un ardite al entendimiento ni la memoria. (VI, ! 80; 611) | Literature is also approached via the drama. There are three different examples of dramatized literature: the actors who perform religious plays, the masque which sati rizes Camacho and Basilio, and the puppets who perform the 269| 'story of Melisendra. The encounter with the actors brings up certain themes which, up until now, had been considered ; only in terms of the romances of chivalry. It is part of ;the process of expanding the issues to all areas of litera- ; ture. The most pertinent in this episode is the question of, I verisimilitude. Don Quijote states that the props and cos- j ; i tumes in plays should be "... fingidos y aparentes, como lo | es la mesma comedia, ..." (V, 216; 538). Although plays, i jand, for that matter, all literature, are mirrors to life, | | t ihaving great power to influence us for good and evil, it is I necessary that we maintain a double vision. We must prefer I | those works which are most lifelike as offering the truest . « portrayal of humanity, but must also never forget that it is only literature, only a deception that is before us. It is j this tension between being deceived and knowing that one is , 1 I being deceived that informs the entire structure of Part II., > I It is likewise the crux of Don Quijote1s problem, that he , cannot see the difference between inverisimilar and veri similar literature, nor between literature and life. The masque at Camacho's wedding and the puppet show serve the same purpose from opposite directions. The masque illustrates a pleasant, nicely composed entertainment that makes a satiric point without venom. It does not pretend to ! 270 l ( be verisimilar; it is frankly an allegory with a moral i i transparent under the personifications of attributes. The puppet show, on the other hand, strives for a degree of [realism. The puppets themselves and the presence of the | I narrator keep most of the audience aware of the deception i i involved. Even Don Quijote notices that some of the sound effects are incorrect, and lectures the narrator on his I .failure to maintain a verisimilar setting. This is a bla- ^ tant example of the worst qualities of the chivalric ro- i mances. Yet, Don Quijote"s madness is such that even with ithe discrepancies, he is quickly ensnared by his inability | i to maintain an intellectual distance from any work involving i I , chivalry. On the one hand, his response to the masque is | i entirely appropriate: he analyzes its meaning and evaluatesj its style and effectiveness. The opposite is true with the , i puppet show, where his response is totally subjective and I insane. As Bruce Wardropper has said, this work illustratesj the point that "nonsense breeds nonsense" ("The Pertinence of El curioso impertinente," p. 596). And the message to j s the readers is that literature is a dangerous tool which must be approached with objectivity and calm rationality. In a sense, the Cave of Montesinos episode is also a literature episode, because the figures and events that Don ! 271 | Quijote beholds are all visions from his books. It is de- ! ■signed to be perceived as a lie, another form of deception. .All of the contextual clues indicate that it could only have been a dream. Sancho, the incorrigible realist, refuses to believe otherwise. The time scale is one which circum scribes the time necessary for a short nap. The narrator I t .drops two not-so-subtle clues that the whole business is a i 1 ;deception. The title of Chapter 23 is: : I I I De las admirables cosas que el extremado don Quijote : . . cont6 que habia visto en la profunda cueva de Monte- | sinos, cuya imposibilidad y grandeza hace que se tenga j esta aventura por apScrifa. (VI, 89; 614. My emphasis) I ! I After the story, he reports: "... se tiene por cierto que al tiempo de su fin y muerte dicen que se retratd della, y dijo que 61 la habia inventado, por parecerle que convenia y cuadraba bien con las aventuras que habia leido en sus histo- rias." (VI, 116; 624. My emphasis) j I I |And, finally, Don Quijote stoops to a pact with Sancho, 1 which indicates that he is aware that their stories are on equally weak grounds. After Sancho's account of the ride i on Clavileho, which is presented as a transparent lie, Don Quijote says, — Sancho, pues vos quer£is que se os crea lo que hab£is visto en el cielo, yo quiero que vos me creKis a mi lo que vi en la cueva de Montesino-s. Y no os digo mSs. (VII, 92; 735) 272) i : This episode contains some of the cruelest satire in I ’ Part II. Don Quijote's own subconscious betrays him by turning his ideal world into something grotesque and offen- < sive, just as his fantasies have turned the real world into something strange and distorted. Not only is Don Quijote j ;deceived by the lies of the romances, but he is also de ceived by the phantasms of his subconscious, for he does not1 grasp how the dream undercuts all his cherished illusions. j 'it is his deepest plunge into self-deception, just as the j i I penance in the Sierra Morena was his deepest plunge into \ madness in Part I. The use of a dream also symbolizes the two layers of desengano through which Don Quijote must ascend to effect ■ his cure. This actual dream dramatizes the concept that j desengano is an "awakening from the falsity of one's dream" I (Green, Spain and the Western Tradition, IV, 49). It makes ; I manifest on the satirical level the idea that Don Quijote must awaken from his dreams of chivalry to a knowledge of reality. This parallels the message on the level of apo logue, that one must awaken from the dream of physical life i to the higher reality of eternal life. The dream strength ens our awareness of the dual nature of this required transformation. I : 2731 I t Don Quijote is far from learning this lesson at the end of Section One. The last episode, the Enchanted Boat, con firms that he is no nearer to a cure than he was when he setj j out. The balance between sanity and insanity, wisdom and | I folly is unchanged. He is faced for the first time with the! probability of his death, and fails to be reformed by the t experience, because his fantasies prevent him from any pro- i found realization of the danger to his soul. After the millers pull Don Quijote and Sancho from the water, the knight continues to insist on his vision of a fortress. It is as though he has failed a test of his readiness. ' The depth of the protagonists1 spiritual darkness is expressed by the narrator when he reports, "Volvieron $ . sus i bestias, y § . ser bestias, don Quijote y Sancho, ..." (VI, 219; 661). The religious and satiric motif of the animality I of man has been developed several times in this section. ^For example, there are the men who bray like asses and then go to war like sheep, the "prophetic" ape who makes apes of I his audience, and Sancho's piggish gluttony and sloth. But ] * it is this incident of the Enchanted Boat that demonstrates ( just how ingrained these low, sinful characteristics are in man. The death motif has also been well prepared in this section. There is a figure of Death in the Cart of Actors; ,Sans6 n could have been killed by Don Quijote, and in turn Don Quijote could have been killed by the lions; Basilio ! I ^akes a suicide at Camacho's wedding; and the enchanted | r I beings endure a living death in the Cave of Montesinos. The! i ’ Enchanted Boat episode is, however, Don Quijote's first realj experience of hear-death. The earlier episodes involve either some sort of deception which reduces the seriousness l ( 'of the situation, or a failure of the danger to materialize. 1 Here it is a true encounter with the physical experience of i drowning. The continual recurrence of this death motif is t Ipart of the preparation for Don Quijote's death in the final, chapter. It reinforces the importance of the religious implications of death, while showing over and over how the characters have not yet learned to face that reality. In the course of these first episodes, Don Quijote has j i been deceived by costumes, lies, self-deceptions, dreams, • charlatans, and puppets. Although the list is already long,' new variations will be presented in the coming episodes. However, in no case does the narrator allow us to share in 14 • Don Quijote's delusions. 14 Chapter 18 is the only case where the narrator allows an equivocation to stand. He uses both casa and castillo in ! 2T5' I Physical reality is incontestable throughout the work. i The devices for impressing us with this fact are familiar from Part I. Either Sancho confirms the truth in his most I ;pragmatic fashion, or the narrator presents an entirely j straightforward and serious account of the real situation. I The Enchantment of Dulcinea is an example of the former. ! I Sancho's reasonings are laid bare for our inspection. ; I i I Y como 61 sabla que la transformaci6 n de Dulcinea 1 habia sido traza y embeleco suyo, no le satisfaclan las l quimeras de su amo; pero no le quiso replicar, por no decir alguna palabra que descubriese su embuste. (V, 280; 563) The encounter with Maese Pedro is an example of a serious i i recounting of the underlying facts. By giving an historical! accounting of Pedro/Ginas' activities since the freeing of ! j the galley slaves, the narrator establishes that reality is i ;not disputable, but man's ability to perceive and interpret j ^it is. Ginis has taken unfair advantage by using a dis guise, thus linking himself to the motif of plays and act ing. However, instead of revealing symbolic truths about j life as good plays do, Gin^s is associated with those that 1 I intentionally deceive men like the literature of the describing Don Diego de Miranda's residence. In all other instances, ambiguities about reality are resolved in a con crete fashion. 276 I jchivalric romances, which is, very appropriately, the sub ject of his puppet play. Puppeteer and puppets thus illus trate the same point. That Pedro is not who he claims to be, any more than I the ape is what he claims it to be, is hinted at before his identity is revealed. The eye patch and the suspicious 'nature of his knowledge about Don Quijote is pointed out at | the outset. Once the fraud has been firmly established, the! .narrator reveals the truth behind it, affirming that the | i ;ape, the puppets, and Pedro are all of the same nature: 1 j ! 'deceivers of men. "... A todos hacla monas, y llenaba sus | I ! ! esqueros" (VI, 180; 647) . That deceptions are more difficult to penetrate in Part, i ,11 than they were in Part I is due to the increasing influ- j ence of the moral message: we can know worldly truths if we] try, but they are so difficult of access and so polluted with the imperfections of the world that our time is much better spent striving after eternal truths. Section Two Section One contained examples of four intentional frauds, three directed against Don Quijote. There were San cho's enchantment of Dulcinea, Sansdn's role as Knight of the Mirrors, Maese Pedro's prophetic ape, and Basilio's mock-suicide. These introduce the mixture of benefits and evils accruing from a conscious intent to deceive one's fellow man. The sum of their results tends more toward evil than good. On the whole, the actions of these characters are comic, but sinful. It is entertaining to see that San cho 's lies make Don Quijote act ridiculously, but it also worries us that his behavior bodes ill for his soul. ! Section Two expands these short encounters into a major I 'focus of the work. The entire center section is based upon J ;the intentional frauds of the Duke and the Duchess. They prolong the entertainment that can be derived from Don Qui jote 's follies, but they also demonstrate how maliciously such entertainment can be obtained. The events controlled by the Duke and Duchess consti tute a world within the world of the book. Their power over the perceptions, and hence the thoughts and actions, of Don ^Quijote and Sancho are prodigious, and are, for that reason, frightening. The Duke admits it is "dulcisima cosa el man- dar y ser obedecido" (VII, 95; 736). They try to play at being God within their private realm, and demonstrate that man, when given power, uses it for ill at least as often as he uses it for good. Instead of seeking to cure Don Qui jote, who is already laboring under one layer of deception, ; 278 they seek to perpetuate his madness by adding their own deceptions to his. Sansdn's actions as a deceiver of Don Quijote are mitigated because they are motivated, at least in part, by the desire to cure the knight of his delusions. The Duke and Duchess exhibit no similar trait. A conversation between Don Quijote and Sancho shortly ! 1 i after their arrival drives home the ironies of their posi- ' tion at the Duke's. Don Quijote, the false knight, is afraid "... que si veen que tti eres un grOsero villano, 6 un' mentecato gracioso, pensardn que yo soy algun echacuervos, 6‘ i jalgdn caballero de mohatra?" (VI, 241-42; 669). Sancho j j I I Inaively adds to the irony by agreeing that their real na- ; i tures must be concealed: "... que nunca por § 1 se descu- j I brirla quiSn ellos eran" (VI, 243; 670). The naive self- | i deceptions of the two protagonists are overwhelmed by the ; conscious manipulations of the master-deceivers whom they I l 'meet. The Duke and the Duchess, supported by their many talented minions, represent the most concentrated power of , deception in the book. Their central position correlates j with the magnitude of their power to influence the percep tions of those around them. The charlatans of Sections One and Three keep the motif before us, but Section Two is com pletely saturated with characters and events based on 279 deception. The frauds perpetrated in this section depend heavily on costumes, props, lighting, and sound effects. This re inforces the earlier association of deception and the thea ter. Furthermore, there are many passages which obliquely i ,refer to the participants:?, acting skills. One instance j occurs toward the end of the Clavileho episode. | i | El Duque, poco cl poco y como quien de un pesado Sueno recuerda, fuS volviendo en si, y por el mismo tenor la Duquesa y todos los que por el jardln estaban caldos, con tales muestras de maravilla y espanto, que casi se I podxan dar £ . entender haberles acontecido de veras lo j I que tan bien sablan fingir de burlas. (VII, 87; 733) ' 1 Another example is the case of the accomplices who act as i litigants or petitioners during Sancho1s governorship. One j of them is complimented on his ability to play the part. j Hizo de senas el maestresala al labrador que se sa- liese de la sala, el cual lo hizo cabizbajo y, al pare- cer, temeroso de que el gobernador no ejecutase su c6 - lera; que el bellacdn supo hacer muy. bien su oficio. (VII, 203; 772) | Sancho1s former ability to see through these disguises ! is diminished while under the influence of the Duke and i Duchess. Although he notices things like the similarity , between Trifaldi and his steward in Barataria, he is no lon ger able to draw the obvious conclusions. The reader sees the truth in his observations and derives ironic humor from 280 his comments. This increased blindness to reality is prob ably caused by two factors, Sancho's unwillingness to offend such generous hosts, and the skill with which the tricks are 'designed and carried out. The reader, however, is always apprised of the physical reality beneath the disguises by | the narrator. It is rare for a character to contact Don Quijote or Sancho in this section without the direct involvement of the! I ( Duke and Duchess. In the few cases where this happens, the j ; I t episode is still turned in such a way as to provide more ! ; | imaterial for the central theme of deception. Although Doha i I i 'Rodriguez decides independently to seek Don Quijote*s help I for her daughter, the act is soon reported to the Duke and j jDuchess, who rapidly turn it to their own purposes. As a j I result, the expectations of all of the participants— Doha Rodriguez, her daughter, Don Quijote, and Tosilos— are frustrated through the Duke's machinations. Doha Rodriguez explains why the Duke will not correct her problem. ... es la causa que como el padre del burlador es tan rico, y le presta dineros, y le sale por fiador de sus trampas por momentos, no le quiere descontentar ni dar pesadumbre en ningun modo. (VII, 220; 778) This is a particularly good illustration of the corruption of the Duke and Duchess. It is a corruption which extends r I I : i 'into all of the nobility who choose to use their power for evil instead of good. The second character who becomes involved independent ;of the Duke and Duchess is Ricote. Sancho meets the Moor on his way back from Barataria, but does not recognize him , because he is disguised as a pilgrim, like his companions. The deception is serious because, as Ricote himself points I - I out, the law expelling the Moors was considered a just one. ' . . . forzlibame a creer esta verdad saber yo los ruines y disparatados intentos que los nuestros tenlan, y tales, que me parece que fu£ inspiracidn divina la que movid a su Majestad H poner en efecto tan gallarda resolucidn, ...1 j (VII, 331; 819) Therefore, Ricote's presence in Spain is a sin. Further more, he is disguised as a penitent pilgrim, reminding us ofj I the other false penitents we have encountered; Don Quijote and Sancho. Ricote compounds the error of his ways by .offering Sancho a bribe for his help in recovering the Moor's fortune. But Sancho, immune to greed after his ex perience as a governor, refuses to be a party to this de frauding of Spanish law. ! Against this army of deceivers stand the more virtuous i aspects of Don Quijote and Sancho. Although neither of them is without vices, their natures appear preferable to those of the people around them. Don Quijote represents naive, 282 misguided sincerity in contrast to their conscious insin- I cerity and trickery. Sancho as governor represents power used for justice and mercy instead of for fraud and amuse ment . I Don Quijote's adventures in this section are all di- j 1 rected toward satirizing chivalric love attitudes. The love1 i ; ! episodes fall into two categories, illustrating two kinds of; * love deception: that practiced by men who use girls un- I .scrupulously, and that practiced by women who tease men un- 1 scrupulously. Somewhere in between fall the waiting women, i epitomized by Trifaldi, who are seduced by the men into . i ! seducing their ladies for them: gullible go-betweens. ! i Given the traditional roles of the sexes, the men and women ; I are forced to rely on different combinations of devices to j gain their ends. The men use promises of marriage; the I women flaunt their charms. And both resort to the literary ! device of love poetry. ' Whereas in Part I love poetry was primarily criticized i for being badly written, in Part II the growth of the apo- ■logic elements is evident in the poetry being criticized almost equally for being badly written and being a bad in fluence on morals. It is not only extravagant and trite, but also lewd and seductive. i ........ 283 The Countess Trifaldi, the first to present her tale of .deception in love, gives a detailed explanation of the effectiveness of this device. First she criticizes Don :Clavijo for wrongfully winning her over, especially through his poetry. En resoluci6 n, §1 me adul6 el entendimiento y me rindid la voluntad con no s£ qu£ dijes y brincos que me di6 ; pero lo que mSs me hizo postrar y dar conmigo por el suelo fueron unas coplas que le oi cantar una noche, ... (VII, 38; 716) I ^Then she criticizes the lewdness and staleness of the po etry. ... he considerado que de las buenas y concertadas re- pfiblicas se habian de desterrar los poetas, como acon- sejaba PlatSn, 5 . los menos, los lascivos, porque escri- ben unas coplas, ... unas agudezas, que S modo de blan- das espinas os atraviesan el alma, y como rayos os hie- ren en ella, dejando sano el vestido. (VII, 39; 717) ... y si yo fuera la buena duena que debia, no me habian de mover sus tranochados conceptos, ni habia de creer ser verdad aquel decir: "Vivo muriendo, ardo en el I yelo, tiemblo en el fuego, espero sin esperanza, pHrtome y qu^dome", con otros imposibles desta ralea, de que estan sus escritos llenos. (VII, 40; 717) In the meantime, Trifaldi also criticizes herself for her credulity. "Pero no tienen ellos [los poetas] la culpa, sino los simples que los alaban y las bobas que los creen; ..." (VII, 40; 717). And again, "... que no me rindieron los versos, sino mi simplicidad; no me ablandaron las mdsi- 284 j ’ t cas, sino mi liviandad; ..." (VII/ 41; 718). In sum, the male lovers, the trite but seductive poetry they write, and j the foolish waiting women are all equally to blame for this j i i \ kind of deception in love. Altisidora's mock attempt to seduce Don Quijote follows quickly upon the Trifaldi incident. In this case, it is the' I | 'aggressive teasing of the woman that is at fault. To fur- j I i ther compound the satire, Don Quijote actually tries to j "undeceive" the malicious Altisidora, and the device he chooses— a serenade— is perhaps a romantic, and certainly the most ineffectual, way to go about it. The whole episode derives its humor from the knight's decision to put out the I flame with its own favorite food. ( Altisidora's poetry illustrates all of the complaints * summarized in Trifaldi's speech, but in exaggerated form, since the poetry is also parodying the tradition which spawned it. The first poem begins with ironic juxtaposition of the ideal and the real: "Entre sSbanas de holanda, / I r Durmiendo A pierna tendida" (VII, 141; 751). It proceeds through trite imagery ("en la luz de tus dos soles"), ironic1 hyperbole ("Caballero el mlis valiente / Que ha producido la Mancha"), ironic parody ("valeroso joven"), coarse refer ences ("matcindote la caspa!"), unflattering compliments 285 1 ("Ner6 n manchego"), and one of the author's favorite parodic devices, the negative catalogue: ! No soy renca, ni soy coja, j Ni tengo nada de. manca; ' Los cabellos, como lirios, Que, en pie, por el suelo arrastran. ; Y aunque es mi boca aguileha Y la nariz algo chata, . Ser mis dientes de topacios j Mi belleza al cielo ensalza. j (VII, 144; 753) j i j Altisidora's parting complaint contains less variety in1 i dts array of devices. It depends for its humor on the irony i 'of her accusing Don Quijote of falseness, and the inventive-' iness of the curses it bestows. It concludes with these grotesque curses: ; I I Si te cortares los callos, i Sangre las heridas viertan, j Y quedente los raigones Si te sacares las muelas. ! (VIII, 40; 835) 1 I I But the poem is also of interest because it illustrates the use of indecent or lewd physical references, such as Ll^vaste tres tocadores, I Y unas ligas, de unas piernas Que al mSrmol puro se igualan 1 En lisas, blancas y negras. (VIII, 38; 835) The third love story with which Don Quijote becomes involved is that of Doha Rodriguez and her daughter. It is ■ 286 I quite similar to the story told by Trifaldi, especially since Doha Rodriguez is another waiting woman. This time, however, the young man has deceived her daughter without the .assistance of any go-between. The just resolution of the problem again rests with Don Quijote. Yet, since the prob- j ,lem is a real one, not a sham like Trifaldi1s story, he must! work real justice instead of simply performing for his 1 mockers as he did on Clavileho. Where the earlier episode mocked him for his credulity, this one attacks his ineffec- I j 'tiveness. The Duke and Duchess achieve nearly the same I I amount of amusement out of both episodes, and Don Quijote i | [fails to aid anyone. I The proposed joust with Tosilos, which is to resolve j I the point of honor and obtain a husband for the seduced J girl, is a fraud from the beginning. The Duke dupes Don | Quijote by substituting a lackey for the lover, who has ! fled. Then he refuses to allow Tosilos to marry Doha Rodriguez's daughter, thus preventing both justice and mercy from occurring. Tosilos later reports, ... pues asi como vuesa merced se partid de nuestro cas- tillo, el Duque mi sehor me hizo dar cien palos, por haber contravenido a las ordenanzas que me tenia dadas antes de entrar en la batalla, y todo ha parado en que la muchacha es ya monja, y dona Rodriguez se ha vuelto a Castilla, ... (VIII, 216-17; 899) ; 287 Even though it is clear that mother and daughter suffer 'severely from this set of tricks, Dona Rodriguez shares some of the satiric ridicule dispensed during the episode. This is due to her position as waiting woman. As a mother she is to be pitied, but as a waiting woman she is laughable. Doha Rodriguez is the focus of all the ridicule di rected at waiting women generally. Sancho begins the list I ! i of their defects by calling them "enfadosas 6 impertinentes"! ; i j(VII, 22; 711). The.tale of Countess Trifaldi adds the ! 'attributes of gullibility and corruptibility. Don Quijote i criticizes them for being physically repulsive. ! : I i ... no es posible que una duena toquiblanca, larga y I antojuna pueda mover ni levantar pensamiento lascivo j en el mcis desalmado pecho del mundo. iPor ventura hay 1 dueha en la tierra que tenga buenas carnes? Por ven tura hay duena en el orbe que deje de ser impertinente., | fruncida y melindrosa? jAfuera, pues, caterva duenesca, infitil para ningtan humano regalo! (VII, 211-12; 774) i The narrator adds information regarding their habits as gossips. Since another waiting woman has overheard Doha Rodriguez's story, and "que como todas las duenas son amigas I I de saber, entender y oler," she rushes off to report to the Duchess what she has heard, "porque no faltase en ella la general costumbre que todas las duenas tienen de ser chis- mosas, ..." (VII, 252; 789). 288 Over and above these faults, Dona Rodriguez is ridi culed over her daughter's deception in love because she has chosen to demand a chivalric retribution. Thus, she becomes I lanother of the credulous mass who have been deceived by the I J ^ I fantasies of this literature. This is why she is described | so disparagingly, despite the justice of her claim. Those i who watch her public display respond very negatively, "... | i ; puesto que la tenian por boba y de buena pasta, no por 1 tanto, que viniese & hacer locuras" (VII, 292; 805). i All of the love episodes have illustrated the principle; lof innocence deceived by craft and cunning. Don Quijote is I I Jalways found among those who have been deceived. Thus, the satire on him as knight errant has not diminished in Section Two. He is less prominent as a result of the interest in i i government portrayed through Sancho1s experiences. Nonethe-. i less, he continues intermittently presenting the image of a i mock knight errant. The main addition to our information about his charac ter derives from the love episodes, where he comes as close j as the decorum of the period allowed to displaying the vice of lust. This is mostly a matter of excessive attention to supposed attacks on his chastity. He instantly assumes that any woman he meets finds him irresistible. Since his : ‘ 2 « y I ugliness is no secret, this provides a good deal of laugh ter. It also suggests that he spends altogether too much time thinking about the charms of the opposite sex for one who is supposed to be as chaste as a monk. i The earlier citation about Doha Rodriguez's physical j ■repulsiveness is one of the best examples of his thinking. i .When he denies that a waiting woman could inspire lasciviousi 'thoughts, we must observe that he must have considered the j i 'possibility in order to have denied it. He appears to be | ! ■ ! aware of this weakness in his nature when he emphasizes to ! ! ! the Duchess that he wishes no women to enter his room, "... i jque yo ponga una muralla en medio de mis deseos y de mi honestidad; ..." (VII, 130; 748).15 ; Yet, as in Section One, Don Quijote varies from sinner j •to fool, madman to wise man. One of his most admirable speeches in this section is his advice to Sancho about j governing the isle. The first segment is entirely serious, and is praised highly by the narrator. "cQui^n oyera el pasado razonamiento de don Quijote que no le tuviera por j persona muy cuerda y mejor intencionada?" (VII, 107; 740). 15 Several other references to his fear of temptation occur in rapid succession, all in Vol. VIII: pp. 132; 794, 140-41; 751, 171; 760, and 206; 772. 290 In spite of the admixture of absurdities found in the second .segment (after a warning to that effect by the narrator), i his advice is expressive of the orthodox wisdom of church and society, and Sancho makes every attempt to follow it. | I In this section, Sancho also performs both functions. j i He is still a parody of a squire, but his role as a governor I I overshadows his other actions temporarily. As a governor, i he serves to satirize real governors, to provide them with aj moral example, and to contrast with the attitude of nobility! I : such as the Duke and Duchess by demonstrating the opposite 16 i possibilities of power. All of his actions as governor are directed toward justice, mercy, or moral improvement. The satire against the majority of those who hold I governmental positions portrays them as corrupt, ignorant, | grasping, and frivolous. Don Quijote gives an unflattering description of them to the Duke and Duchess. : i I ... por muchas experiencias sabemos que no es menester ni mucha habilidad ni muchas letras para ser uno gober- nador, pues hay por ah! ciento que apenas saben leer, y gobiernan como unos girifaltes; ... (VI, 279-80; 683) i In Section Three, however, Sancho will show the un desirable aftereffects of his brief tenure as governor. "... Sancho, aunque aborrecia el ser gobernador, como queda dicho, todavia deseaba volver $ . mandar y & ser obedecido; que esta mala ventura trae consigo el mando, aunque sea de burlas" (VIII, 161-62; 879). r I 291 ISancho's letter to Don Quijote mentions that "... aqui me han dicho que los gobernadores que i . esta insula suelen venir, antes de entrar en ella, 6 les han dado 6 les han prestado los del pueblo muchos dineros, | y que §sta es ordinaria usanza en los demcis que van S . , gobiernos; no solamente en 6 ste." (VII, 285; 803) ; ! i i i Earlier, Sancho had disagreed with the Duke when he asserted: ! that governors should cultivate the sport of hunting. His jvery practical attitude was that j ... el buen gobernador, la pierna quebrada, y en casa. j i f.Bueno seria que viniesen los negociantes a buscarle fatigados, y 61 estuviese en el monte holgandose! jAsi enhoramala andaria el gobierno! Mia fe, sehor, la caza y los pasatiempos mSs han de ser para los holgazanes I que para los gobernadores. (VI, 311; 695) Despite Sancho's wise and dedicated attitude toward thei duties of government, his development into the model gover- ^ nor takes some time and effort. His normal character of a squire devoted to the pleasures of food, drink, sleep, and expedient lies must be reformed. There are very specific lessons he must learn in order to be a good governor, and then there are lessons he learns as governor in order to be ! ( I a better person. | His first lesson is delivered allegorically when the costumed figure playing Merlin/Death in the Cart of Demons episode demands that Sancho "Se d6 tres mil asotez y tre- cientos / En ambas sus valientes posaderas, / Al aire descubiertas, ..." (VI, 32 8 ; 701) in order to disenchant iDulcinea. On the satiric level, this is poetic justice for ihis deception of Don Quijote and contrived enchantment of IDulcinea. On the apologic level, it functions in a more general way as a potential means of expiating all of his t sins and purifying him for his next career. As the imita tion Dulcinea says, "Date, date en esas carnazas, besti6 n I ^ | ,ind6mito, y saca de har6 n ese brio, que i solo comer y m^s j ■comer te inclina, ..." (VI, 332; 702). Sancho's response to1 this order is less than admirable. It requires the Duke's ' threat of refusing him the isle to coerce him into a sem- j I ;blance of agreement. This, however, is only a form of pro crastination, and later Sancho will devise a means to evade .this just penance altogether, placing himself on a level [ with Ricote, the other imitation penitent. But within the ; compass of Section Two, his spirit is improved through other! methods. The contrast between false and true penance will be more important in Section Three. Sancho's second lesson is delivered in Don Quijote's lecture on governing. The morals expounded by the knight j are traditional religious lessons: fear God, know yourself,' be just and merciful, and allow for the depravity of human nature. So long as none of these involves the sacrifice of ; " ‘ 293 i physical pleasures, Sancho follows the advice. It is when i the physician assigned to supervise his diet begins to starve him that the squire seriously begins to doubt his jvocation for governing. Yet, this episode is in itself part of the satire on governing. It links the physician with thei priest who argued with Don Quijote, and with the waiting | i woman who takes on airs, all of whom are part of the coteriej j I surrounding those who have power, and who themselves try to i ‘ manipulate that power for their own ends. The saying that power corrupts is dramatized through these secondary groups [ ; i jof characters as well as through the Duke and Duchess. The third lesson is the governorship itself. As gov ernor, Sancho makes several very astute decisions, causing ! I great wonder in the minds of those who set out to make a j i fool of him. As the steward phrases it, "... las burlas se i -vuelven en veras y los burladores se hallan burlados" (VII, ' i 230; 781). He has surprised them not only with his wisdom, but with his new inclination toward virtue. The two appear ; to be inseparable; Sancho must renounce lies and sloth in order to direct his government justly. The moral of the experience is that "to be a good governor one must be a good ' . i 17 man." i ; But Sancho is good in very limited ways. Rather than i 'permanently renounce good eating and long hours of sleep, he 1 1 Renounces his position of power. "... mis quiero hartarme [ de gazpachos que estar sujeto 5 . la miseria de un medico impertinente que me mate de hambre; ..." (VII, 316; 814). This correlates .with one of the morals of Section Two, that one should not seek to rise above one's station. Sancho was i not born to be a governor, and hence cannot adapt to the ! i ’(admittedly exaggerated) strains of the position. Besides, !the climb to power is part of an equally undesirable set of (Vices: ambition and pride. Sancho says to his ass as he prepares to depart, 1 ... despuSs que os dej§, y me subi sobre las torres de la ambici6 n y de la soberbia, se me han entrado por el alma dentro mil miserias, mil trabajos y cuatro mil desasosiegos. (VII, 315; 814) I This message is a serious motif in Section Two, which con tains many other references to the errors of social climb ing, and the virtue of knowing one's place in the scheme of [ things. In fact, the development of this theme is the main ; 17 A. J. Close, "Sancho Panza: Wise Fool," Modern Lan guage Review, 6 8 (1973), 355. ; 295 18 ■reason for Teresa Panza's appearances in the work. j Sancho's departure also points up how temporary and superficial his reform has been. The brevity of his tenure I lis symbolic of "la ligereza § instabilidad de la vida pre- ! I I sente" in contrast to "la duraci6 n de la eterna que se es- s pera, ..." (VII, 308; 811). It is probably fortunate for j him that he does not have to act the role of wise governor 1 i I t any longer, because without true inner repentance for his I I Jearlier sins, such as was symbolically demanded of him by 'Merlin/Death, his virtuous acts are built on a shaky founda-j I tion. Sancho himself suggests a relationship between the ^ ! ! penance of lashes and his sufferings as governor. He writes^ to Don Quijote, "'he venido < k hacer penitencia, como si j ■fuera ermitano; y como no la hago de mi voluntad, pienso que al cabo al cabo me ha de llevar el diablo'" (VII, 285; 802)., | Both the penance and the governorship are enforced suffer- i ings that have nothing to do with the condition of his spirit. Before Sancho rejoins Don Quijote, he is given one more| ■symbolic experience to warn him that he must continue the \ l new direction toward virtue, which he began as governor. He 18 See Chapters 5, 50, and 52. 2 96 j ! falls into a pit or cave, and is severely frightened because he imagines it to be either Purgatory or the antechamber of it. Several references are made to death and the afterlife. ,Sancho calls himself "un pecador enterrado en vida, ..." i * (VIII, 13-14; 825) and shouts to Don Quijote, "... que ya noj lo puedo llevar el estar aqul sepultado en vida, y me estoy ! I muriendo de miedo" (VIII, 16; 826). Don Quijote agrees with Sancho's assessment, thinking "... que Sancho Panza debia dej i |ser muerto, y que estaba alii penando su alma; ..." (VIII, i ) i ;14; 826). He asks "si td eres alma en pena, ..." (VIII, 14;| I 1 |826) and promises to get him out of this pit "... donde tus j I } i I ;pecados te deben de haber puesto" (VIII, 16; 826). This episode, like that of the enchanted boat, under lines the message that one must be constantly watchful over j the state of one's soul because death is always near. San- i cho fares relatively well here. He has come away from his i isle a better man, and comes through this trial with the aura of virtue around him. Yet, he has never had the ex perience of full desengano regarding the things of the world, and therefore is still tainted with traces of sin, such as his continuing careful attention to the pleasures of the stomach when he meets Ricote. Thus, this second ex perience of near-death brings us halfway from the total 297 imperviousness to spiritual things shown by both protago- ! ■nists in the episode of the enchanted boat to the complete ) ' desengano and turning away from the world shown in Don Qui- Ijote'd deathbed experience. The last two episodes at the Duke and Duchess's con clude Don Quijote's involvement in the chivalric love ad- i ventures of Doha Rodriguez and Altisidora. Both conclude inj t | a way that is humiliating to the knight. Don Quijote's : "victory" over Tosilos is by default, and is further under- | j cut by the fact that he was not allowed to challenge the I real villain. Thus, his actions are all a mockery of his j ; *! intentions. Altisidora further humiliates him by accusing him of petty theft. Since the knight's first encounter with ;the Duke and Duchess was marred by his embarrassing fall from Rocinante, Section Two begins and ends with scenes in i which Don Quijote is publicly humiliated. 1 Section Three The reason Don Quijote gives for leaving the Duke and Duchess's is i ... que se imaginaba ser grande la falta que su persona 1 hacia en dejarse estar encerrado y perezoso entre los infinitos regalos y deleites que como a caballero andante aquellos sehores le haclan, y pareclale que habia de dar cuenta estrecha al cielo de aquella ociosidad y encerra- miento; ... (VIII, 35-36; 833) He shows awareness that he has fallen into sloth, another of ;the sins he preached against in his speech on the way to El Toboso. This is more evidence of the corrupting influ ence of the Duke and Duchess. Not only do they encourage I Don Quijote's madness and deceive him through literarily inspired fantasies, but they also encourage backsliding into! the grip of the seven deadly sins. ! i i Don Quijote regards the entire experience as a form of j ’ j ;captivity. This topic forms the basis of the first episode i ^ ! I after their departure. The knight perceives the captivity 1 i U.n terms of being subjected to undesirable attentions and physical restriction. He remarks, when "libre y desembara- zado de los requiebros de Altisidora,” that ! — La libertad, Sancho, es uno de los mlis preciosos dones que S los hombres dieron los cielos; ... y, por el contrario, el cautiverio es el mayor mal que puede venir S los hombres. Digo esto, Sancho, porque bien has visto el regalo, la abundancia que en este castillo que dejamos hemos tenido; pues en metad de aquellos banquetes sazonados y de aquellas bebidas de nieve, me parecia a mi que estaba metido entre las estrechezas de la hambre, porque no lo gozaba con la libertad que lo gozara si fueron mios; que las obligaciones de las recompensas de los beneficios y mercedes recebidas son ataduras que no dejan campear al ctnimo libre. (VIII, 45-46; 837) These ideas reverberate in two directions within the text. The idea of the constraining effect of the need for grati tude is repeated as a motif of the early part of Section 299 j j Three. However, the symbolic nature of the theme of cap tivity is more significant, since it brings together several layers of meaning in the text. The most obvious level of captivity is physical entrap- i ment. Don Quijote and Sancho are always free to leave the | ! Duke and Duchess's, but physical comforts and flattery act i ; l like a tie to confine them there. It requires strength of j will for Don Quijote to break this tie. He soon falls into i Other traps, however. There are the bird nets in the sham ; Arcadia, Roque Guinart's band of robbers, the tricks of the ; 1 presidents of Barcelona, and, finally, the capture by the servants of the Duke and Duchess. Only the two captures by the robbers and servants are associated with complete physi- | cal entrapment. But the most dangerous and life-threatening form of captivity in Part II is not experienced by Don Qui- 1 jote. It is the imprisonment of Don Gregorio, Ana Felix's lover. In contrast to Don Gregorio's plight, all of Don Quijote's captivities are shown to be more mental or sym bolic than physical. When one is duped by the swindles of others, one be comes captive to the view of events which the swindler imposes. In Don Quijote's adventures, he has shown himself very susceptible to this kind of captivity. Especially at ! 300 I the Duke and Duchess's, he was a prisoner mentally, because of his subjection to their tricks and manipulations, but this was all made possible by his first captivity in the madness and fantasies of the chivalric romances. Had he not i already renounced reason and reality, their frauds would ; f I have had no influence over him. By giving up idleness and returning to the adventures of the road, he regains one level of self-control that he had relinquished, although he 1 'is still far from escaping from the prison of his chivalric | i madness. Thus, Don Antonio Moreno can easily trade on his ! Ifantasies in the same way in Barcelona. i The aura of corruption which taints our impression of the Duke adds to the urgency of Don Quijote's need to es- j cape. Sancho recognizes this in his own way when he real- | izes that the governorship is more of a captive hell than a I path to pleasure and glory. One of his parting comments is I I this: — Abrid camino, sehores mlos, y dejadme volver S mi antigua libertad: dejadme que vaya a buscar la vida j pasada, para que me resucite de esta muerte presente. ' (VII, 315; 814) Although Don Quijote and Sancho have temporarily shaken off one form of captivity, they must sometime also shake off the chivalric fantasies, and the ties to sinful, worldly 'values, which the chivalric attitude symbolizes in the apo- ;logue. Section Three begins on a somewhat hopeful note because of their partial success in this direction. More i t .guidance is quickly given to reinforce our understanding of i the direction in which their souls must travel to become free of this spiritual prison. The images of Christian knights crystallize the message of the apologue, just as Don Quijote's sermons on Christian knights and on just government did in the two previous sec tions. There are four saints' images. Don Quijote comments I jon each, revealing their allegorical significance. i First is St. George, the knight known for his defense of maidens. This is the role Don Quijote continually tries to play in his imitation of the romances, and has just failed to accomplish for Dona Rodriguez's daughter. Second is St. Martin, known for his charity and generosity. A f generous impulse to help others is what Christian knights should be motivated by. Don Quijote, however, errs because his motivation has been primarily pride and the quest for fame. Third is St. James, the Moor killer. He demonstrates that real Christian knights fight the enemies of their reli gion instead of making fools of themselves by battling chi- maeras. This agrees with the attitude expressed in Don j 302 l Quijote1s lectures to the Brayers about who may take up i !arms. Fourth is St. Paul, known for his conversion. He began as an enemy of the faith, but became a defender. Don Quijote is now an enemy of true Christian behavior, because he is still trapped within the follies of his madness. When |he rejects chivalric literature and asserts the eternal values espoused by the Church, he will become a Christian i ;knight (in the metaphorical sense) . i j Don Quijote's commentary on the significance of these ! I I .images serves to point out his own shortcomings as a mili- i j !tary knight and a Christian, while also illustrating the ■ path that he should follow. ... estos santos y caballeros profesaron lo que yo pro- j feso, que es el ejercicio de las armas; sino que la di- | ferencia que hay entre mi y ellos es que ellos fueron | santos y pelearon S lo divino, y yo soy pecador y peleo S lo humano. Ellos conquistaron el cielo $ . fuerza de ; brazos, porque el cielo padece fuerza, y yo hasta agora 1 no s§ lo que conquisto a fuerza de mis trabajos; pero ; 1 si mi Dulcinea del Toboso saliese de los que padece, mejorSndose mi ventura y adobdndoseme el juicio, podrla ■ ser que encaminase mis pasos por mejor camino del que lievo. (VIII, 51-52; 839. My emphasis) Don Quijote must learn to substitute the wisdom of the Bible for the false wisdom of the romances, the ideals of religion, for the misguided ideals of chivarly. When he does that, he will become, like St. Paul, "caballero andante por la vida, y santo S . pie quedo por la muerte, ..." (VIII, 51; 839). 303 > ' The path is established. We know that Don Quijote has i ,the capacity to recover, because he has already partially recovered his sanity. But the demon chivalry is very diffi cult to exorcise. Even though Don Quijote sees the wisdom i of his own advice, he is not yet able to implement it fully.j There will be more backsliding before he escapes from this j captivity. i The first form that the backsliding takes is an attemptj j •to substitute another form of literary madness for the chi- 1 i i • i valric. When he encounters the pastoral Arcadia, he imag ines that this may be a viable alternative. But it is I merely another form of captivity, as shown by the symbolic i i entrapment in bird nets on his arrival: "... se hall6 don j I Quijote enredado entre unas redes de hilo verde, ..." (VIII,| 61; 842). The knight is like the birds caught just after hej I is: "... llenaronse las redes de pajarillos diferentes que,' i engahados de la color de las redes, caian en el peligro de que iban huyendo" (VIII, 6 8 ; 844). The first sins he falls into are violent rage and vain-j glory, prompted by Sancho, but displayed in "su arrogante y i nunca visto ofrecimiento" (VIII, 71; 845) to challenge all comers. He is just as promptly punished by the humiliating trampling by bulls. Next it is Sancho's turn to demonstrate his reversion to the old character of gluttony and sloth. Immediately after they escape from the Arcadia, Sancho, "... atrope- llando por todo gdnero de crianza, comenzd $ . embaular en el estdmago el pan y queso que se le ofrecia" (VIII, 76; 847). With the full return of the protagonists' earlier habits, the difficulty in curing them of their sins and illusions is increased substantially. Because of this, the means applied for the cure are correspondingly harsher. Thus, the humiliations and defeats suffered in Section Three are the most severe in Part II. There is still the strong element of humor, especially in Sancho's actions and say ings, but the pain of the knight's experiences seems to be more severe from the trampling of the bulls forward. The humiliations began with the trampling by bulls, and Don Quijote does not even try to soften the shame by trans forming them into something else in his imagination. Soon afterwards, Sancho refuses to whip himself to disenchant Dulcinea, and compounds the insubordination by throwing Don Quijote to the ground and pinning him there. This is a sign that the knight's fantasy life is near an end. For, not only is he unable to shape reality for his purposes, but others are beginning to refuse to do it for him. There : 305 i |will be more cases where people cooperate with his delu- i |sions, but the subversion has begun in earnest. The narra- > tor also continues his invariable habit of revealing to the reader the physical reality underlying the deceptions, as ini i the episode of the enchanted head. ! The next humiliation follows immediately, as Don Qui- i i jote is caught "... A pie, su caballo sin freno, su lanza j I 'arrimada A un arbol, y, finalmente, sin defensa alguna; ..."! i I } j(VIII, 103; 856). No good knight errant ever allows himselfj |to be found without his weapons ready. Once he joins Roque,' he offers his services in the aid of Claudia Jer6 nima, but |Roque scorns his assistance. A similar situation arises I i later in Barcelona, when Don Quijote offers to rescue Ana ; I Felix's lover, and is put off by Don Antonio Moreno. When- | I ever there is real work to be done, the knight is not wanted.! j When Don Quijote enters Barcelona, triumphantly he [ i I i thinks, he has an experience like that on his arrival at thei Duke and Duchess's. Again he falls from his horse, this 1 time as the result of a burr placed under Rocinante's tail. While in Barcelona, and at the center of Section Three, he suffers his most important defeat and humiliation. Sans6 n, disguised as the Knight of the White Moon, unhorses him in a duel, and forces him to promise to go home for a year. This 306 is the point at which Don Quijote's resilient optimism fails 'him. Seis dlas estuvo don Quijote en el lecho, marrido, triste, pensativo y mal acondicionado, yendo y viniendo con la imaginacidn en el desdichado suceso de su venci- miento. (VIII, 197; 892-93) j From this point on, he travels unarmed, having given up the ■ : I 'guise, if not the ideas, of chivalry. ] l I However, eventually his spirits do begin to recover [ 'with thoughts of a pastoral existence. At this point, a new humiliation, the trampling by swine, intervenes to beat his ispirit down again. He is almost beyond humiliation when the! j l 'minions of the Duke and Duchess capture him for their per- 1 I formance of Altisidora's funeral. And, of course, the final- humiliation is to return home a failure, defeated in his chosen profession. The humiliations are a necessary part of Don Quijote's [ cure, because his madness makes the disease more recalci trant. And the disease is more than his self-delusions ! about knight-errantry. On a larger scale, it is all of the j i deceptions of self and other, conscious or not, practiced by man. Section Three adds several new variations on the basic categories of this motif. To the motif of literary deceptions is added the 307 follies of the pastoral romance, which had not appeared ! [before this in Part II. Also, the appearance of Avella- neda's continuation provides fuel for the satire, since the jauthor finds it to be both poorly written and containing a : i protagonist who does not resemble the "real" Don Quijote. ; Hence it establishes another layer of sham in the protago- I i nists' universe. { I The motif of deception through costumes and acting is ! i I Jincreased by Sans6 n's new disguise as the Knight of the j 'White Moon, Ana Felix's disguise as a young boy, her lover's as a young woman, and the entire charade of Altisidora's funeral. | The enchanted head is very similar to Maese Pedro's ape. in its supposed ability to answer questions. It falls in j the category of tools employed in deception. « Finally, there is the malicious kind of lying practiced, ! by Sancho against his master. In this section, his efforts are focused on the lashes he is supposed to give himself to disenchant Dulcinea. Of course, the enchantment has been a j i deception from the beginning. When he is given the penance j to disenchant her, it seems that poetic justice will be done. Yet even this is to be subject to further layer of deception as he takes advantage of the darkness to 1 30*8 ' administer the lashes to some convenient trees, although not until he has extracted a salary for it. This whole series of enchantment-disenchantment episodes increases the humili ation of Don Quijote, first by Sancho"s fraud, then by his ! | recalcitrance, and finally by his outright rebellion. j Sancho"s recalcitrance over the mock penance for Dul- i cinea also has importance for the apologic message. We . observed in the discussion of Part I that beatings are a [ I : satiric device for dramatizing criticism of a person or i i jattitude. The whipping penance assigned to Sancho functions I ias a satiric beating, but also as a dramatization of the ' I I idea that Sancho needs spiritual reform. It is symbolic of I the state of his soul that he evades the penance, just as he^ refuses to give up his vices of sloth, gluttony, and greed. | I The apologue and satire come together in ridicule of a moral; i flaw in his character. When he is later assigned a mock penance for the re-^ vival of Altisidora, again the homiletic point is made through the satire: this penance has no influence on the j state of his soul. It is undertaken reluctantly, without the necessary, accompanying spiritual reform. However, even though Sancho's penances are frauds, they serve to keep the issue before the reader throughout Part II, pointing out what should be done in earnest instead of in jest. Near the I J lend, a contrast is provided by the report Of a true repen tance by a renegade Spaniard. "ReincorporSse y reduj6 se el renegado con la Iglesia, y de miembro podrido, volvi6 limpio y sano con la penitencia y el arrepentimiento" (VIII, 202; 894) . The motif of penitence is developed in preparation for l i Don Quijote's own repentance and death. We have been shown ! 'several fraudulent examples, so that the real thing is more I impressive when it finally occurs. It contrasts not only i with Sancho's shams, but also with Don Quijote's own false penitence in Part I. In this respect, Part II parallels Part I's structure. The earlier book had, at its midpoint, the artificial love penances of Cardenio and Don Quijote in the Sierra Morena. At its end was a procession of penitents who were engaging quite seriously in a religious observance. i Don Quijote suffered greatly by the contrast. At the mid point of Part II is the procession of mock penitents, whose leader, Merlin/Death, assigns Sancho his lashes. At the conclusion is Don Quijote's sincere repentance of his chi valric career, against which Sancho's deceptions contrast. In addition, the lack of proper religious feeling after the near-drowning in the enchanted boat, and Sancho's r i 310 incomplete and temporary reform as a result of his governor-] ship, contribute to the sense of the completeness and cor rectness of Don Quijote's desengano. I In apologic terms, his abrupt awakening symbolizes the i ;moral victory of virtue, sanity, and eternal truths over thei deceptions, illusions, and lies propagated by vice and mad- j ness. It is a casting off of the credulity that allowed himj I to be misled by illusions, combined with a rejection of jworldly goals and rewards in favor of divine values. . The criticism of chivalric romances which began in Part! !l as satire concludes Part II as apologue. Don Quijote's ! 'repentance is phrased in terms that entirely support the ^statements in the Prologue of Part I that the book would be "una invectiva contra los libros de caballerias. 11 He an- j nounces, , Yo tengo juicio ya, libre y claro, sin las sombras cali- | ginosas'de la ignorancia, que sobre 61 me pusieron mi 1 amarga y continua leyenda de los detestables libros de i las caballerias. Ya conozco sus disparates y sus embe- lecos, y no me pesa sino que este desengano ha llegado tan tarde, que no me deja tiempo para hacer alguna re- compensa, leyendo otros que sean luz del alma. (VIII, 322; 935) Yet the very suddenness of the disillusionment is also in keeping with Don Quijote's role as a satiric protagonist. The rhetorical nature of his apologic and satiric roles 311 precludes a psychologically realistic and consistent change from madness to sanity. We are not shown the process, only j jthe results. Ronald Paulsen finds this typical of satiric 1 iprotagonists. i A satiric character, unable to change organically, must ! suffer a conversion; he is transformed into an ass and then back into a man; or he is made mad and then— by a blow on the head or on the psyche— returned to sanity; j or he is overcome by a humor (envy or revulsion) and at ; the end dehumored and returned to normal. (p. 57) However, the development of the apologue and the satire, ! are parallel, so that the conclusion resolves and harmonizes! ; ' I ithe demands of both. The apologue has been demanding a re- ^ 1 ! inunciation of specific sins: gluttony, vainglory, greed, anger, sloth, envy, and lust or self-indulgence. The satirej ,has been demanding a rejection of false romances, because j i they inspire certain sins (see the above list). A partial ! i resolution took place at the end of Section Two when Sancho j 1 'had managed to purify himself of gluttony, greed, envy, and sloth. The final and permanent resolution is embodied in Don Quijote's simultaneous rejection of chivalric romances ! I and purification from vainglory, anger, lust, and self- | indulgence. The work is structured so that neither strain of meaning can be completed without the corresponding part ; of the accompanying strain. Apologue and satire are I ‘ 312] I i i •indivisible in goal and meaning, and their conclusion repre- i 19 sents the ultimate harmonizing of their goals. In Part I the satire took away the values of the chivalric romances, ibut without substituting much in their stead. In Part II we i are presented with what amounts to a full religious educa tion in the values we should strive for, as opposed to the i ones that Don Quijote has been mistakenly pursuing. , Just as Don Quijote's repentance was prepared by the j ! ^recurring presence of the motif, his death is the culmina- I ! i ,tion of the pervasive presence of death in the text. And !the two themes are linked by the belief that the awareness i of approaching death is a primary motivation for correcting , | the errors in one's way of life- j i 19 There is one occasion where there appears to be a i clash in the goals of the satire and apologue. This is the ! jepisode when Sans6 n Carrasco explains to Don Antonio Moreno ,why he has defeated Don Quijote and sent him home. They disagree over the value of this act, because Moreno would prefer to keep Don Quijote on as an entertaining fool ratherj than see him cured. The conflict between the comic and j moral values of the two roles of the knight has been impli- j cit up to this point, but this is the only time it is openly, discussed. Although the tones of the two genres are oppos ing, their goals are only superficially in conflict. En tertainment is the superficial goal of satire, but its deeper goal is correction of an evil, be it moral, social, or some other form. It is Moreno's error that he mistakes the surface of the satire for its meaning, when .in actual ity, the goals of the two genres are identical. It is their means that differ. Don Quijote is the only character who dies in Part II, although some already dead robbers are encountered. How ever, there are frequent episodes where a character is near ideath or feigns death. The enchanted boat and Sancho's fall into the pit have already been discussed. In addition, there are Basilio's fake suicide and Altisidora's fake funeral. More frequently, death appears in its symbolic form, as an allegorical character riding in the cart of 'actors and in the procession of penitents and demons, or I ■ the black mourning dress worn by T.rifaldi and Doha Rodri guez. Finally, it is a staple of conversation for Sancho t ,and Don Quijote when they discuss the future of their souls. Don Quijote1s metaphorical journey toward a more vir tuous, saner life in this world is paralleled by his journey toward death and a better life in another world. The two are resolved simultaneously in his deathbed recantation. He functions apologically as a moral example for all men. CHAPTER IV ! DON QUIJOTE AND THE ANTI-HERO ; The analysis in Chapters II and III has shown that Don i Quijote, Part I is a satire with apologic digressions, and Part II is an apologic satire. Satire and apologue are both .rhetorical genres, designed to convey ideas in a dramatized i .form. The characters within the works are manipulated so as jto contribute most effectively to the communication of these i lideas. Hence, they are often accused of inconsistencies, because the communication of ideas is more important to the work than is the portrayal of realistic or consistent per sonalities. Don Quijote and Sancho Panza have occasiohally ex hibited sudden shifts in their characters that cannot be explained except by reference to their primary purpose: to ridicule or make a moral point about some aspect of life outside the text itself. For example, there are Don Qui- jote's two abrupt changes from insane to half-insane, and 315 I then from half-insane to fully sane, each during the course of a night's sleep. In Sancho's case there is the glaring difference between his behavior as governor, where he was providing a moral example, and his sudden return to glut-. i .tony, sloth, and greed as soon as he returns to the road as I : a mock squire. j The characters are consistent, however, in serving the ! needs of the genres. In the satiric portions, Don Quijote [ i i Jis a perfectly conventional mock hero. He functions as a ! device for ridiculing chivalric ideals and knights errant, ! 'but is oblivious of the ironies and ridicule inherent in his1 actions. Like all mock heroes, he believes that he is an authentic, traditional hero. He does not wish to reject the values which the author is ridiculing through him. Sancho, i on the other hand, began as a skeptic. But, insofar as he | I was converted by Don Quijote's ideas, he became a mock- | I i heroic squire himself. In the apologic portions, Don Quijote and Sancho offer ' words of wisdom that they are not always able to follow ! themselves, because of the conflicting demands of the sat- I ire. However, Don Quijote eventually is reformed, becoming ! Alonso Quijano. This character change, which dramatizes the central meaning of the apologue, significantly requires that 'the name of the mock hero vanish when his ideas and follies i are cast off. Thus, Alonso Quijano, in his brief appearance at the end, is revealed as the wise man of the apologue, who t was trapped beneath the mock heroics of the satiric pro- i tagonist. He has embraced religious orthodoxy and virtuous i I .behavior, aligning himself with all the conventional, bour- I geois heroes who stand for the beliefs and values of the i dominant culture. I i ! 1 The two characters cannot exist at the same time. One I ;is black in its madness and folly, the other white in its I Isanity and wisdom. They have been battling within Don Qui- j jote throughout Part II because they are basically incom patible. j . When the desengano arrives, it is a moment of enlight- j enment for Quijano. It spells the end of the struggle be- , tween the two sets of ideas, and offers him peace, both in i ' this life and the next. In other words, his disillusionment! is a very positive, reassuring, religious experience. It contrasts with all of the negative experiences he has had as; a mock hero. Thus, the satiric and apologic elements are both di rected toward confirming the religious values of seven- iteenth-century Spain. Cervantes' work is not the least bit i rebellious or revolutionary in its ideas. To be sure, it mocks some of the people and institutions of the day, but that is because they do not conform to the basic standard of conduct of the time: the doctrine of the Catholic Church. | I i After spending so much time with Don Quijote and Sanchoi i it requires a mental leap to return to the question of the ! i anti-hero. At this point it seems rather self-evident that I ! neither protagonist would qualify for the title. Yet sev- ' i eral critics have raised the issue in all seriousness, and ! I have concluded that they are indeed anti-heroes. Either i ! they have an entirely different conception of the meaning of I the text, or they have a confused notion of the nature of j the anti-hero. Unfortunately, most of the comments on Don j Quijote as anti-hero are so brief that it is very difficult to determine how the critic reached this conclusion. i Ruth El Saffar's comments on Don Quijote give insight into one way a critic might find him anti-heroic, although she does not apply this label herself. In "Development and I i Reorientation in the Works of Cervantes" she shows a sympa- i thetic attitude toward the ideals espoused by the chivalric romances and by Don Quijote. She is one of the many readers who have not realized that those ideals are regarded as ; 318 i flawed and misguided in the text. Thus, she can say: "The anguish of the Licenciado's and Don Quixote's failure grows, ] in part, out of the nobility of their aspirations" (p. 209). !She believes that the early works of Cervantes, such as the i 1605 Quijote, portray "solitary rebels longing for freedom and absolute control over their lives, sympathetic despite their frequent failures" (p. 214). They offer a representation of man in an alienated state inhabit- , : ing a universe offering nothing of certainty and no j j truth beyond the partial ones available to particular ' and limited perceptions. (p. 214) j I ■Although El Saffar acknowledges that Cervantes' later works, i ■such as the 1615 Quijote, affirm eternal, religious truths, she totally misses the satiric point of the earlier work. It is the use of the language of modern alienation to i describe a mock hero that encourages one to see him, mis- , takenly, as an anti-hero. Anguish, solitary rebellion, and an uncertain universe are qualities that we have already seen to be closely associated with twentieth-century anti- heroes. Yet, reality is always portrayed with clarity and ( certainty in Don Quijote. It is only those who identify too. closely with the knight's hallucinations who can fail to see this. Raymond Willis discusses both Don Quijote and Sancho in i 319 terms of the modern anti-hero.1 Sancho is more appropriate on the surface, because of his lower-class origins. Yet Willis argues that both are victims of disillusionment. They represent, he says, the plight of the plain man, the man of human dimensions, | who is a stranger to himself, an exile in his own land, j an alien to his own times, trying to forge an authentic j existence within these impossible circumstances. (p. 227)j i Again we encounter a problem of terminology. Willis uses I desengano, estrangement, alienation, and authenticity in j their twentieth-century, existential sense. He treats the | characters like highly self-conscious protagonists who ago- jnize over their every act. This totally fails to recognize the satiric, comic tone of their pursuit of anachronistic ideas. Certainly, they are out of step with their time, but( it is ridiculous, not existential behavior. I Especially problematic is the term desengaho. To the } modern mind, disillusionment is a negative, pessimistic experience. It involves a crushing blow to ideals, iden tity, and hope. However, as I have pointed out several times, Don Quijote's experience of desengano, one which is typical of seventeenth-century Spain, is a positive, "Sancho Panza: Prototype for the Modern Novel," His panic Review, 37 (1969), 207-27. ; 320] uplifting, spiritual experience. It has nothing in common with modern disillusionment or anguish. Sean O'Faolain is another critic who mentions Don Qui- . I jote as an anti-hero. In his book The Vanishing Hero: | ! Studies of Novelists of the Twenties he asserts that the j knight lacks a pattern of meaning in his perception of life.' ; | Yet, as a mock hero, he carefully follows the rules pre- i scribed for knight errantry, and as a disillusioned Alonso ! Quijano he fully empbraces the doctrine of his faith. Thesej facts about the text flatly contradict O'Faolain's analysis.! 1 Perhaps part of the'problem also rests in a confusion 1 i about the distinctions among heroes, anti-heroes, mock j heroes, and villains. I noted in Chapter I that some crit- j 2 ics have confused the anti-hero with the villain. I have also found one critic (Manno, p. 205) who sees no difference I between the anti-hero and the mock hero. Yet this lax use I i of terms is a severe detriment to the understanding of the very different types of literature involved. Don Quijote's mock-heroic nature will be clarified by | 2 Lester Crocker is one critic who makes this error more specifically in regard to Don Quijote. In "Don Quijote, Epic of Frustration," Romanic Review, 42 (1951), he states, "Don Quijote is a failure, Cervantes mocks him and disap proves of him (therefore for some making him a villain or anti-hero) ..." (p. 180). , ^ a point-by-point contrast with the characteristic of the anti-hero. The composite anti-hero sketched in Chapter I has seven essential features. First, he always reacts .against a tradition, be it literary, social, or religious. I ! I Second, he manifests undesirable or unpleasant character traits, which are compensated by a sympathetic point of view* \ i in the work. Hence the third characteristic, that he is j I ■ 'able to hold the reader's attention and sympathy. Fourth, 1 i j I ; he is a member of the lower or middle classes. Fifth, he | i , feels isolated or alienated from the world around him. Thisj 1 i is because, sixth, he is disillusioned with the values that ; are manifest in the people and society with which he has contact. And, seventh, he is a failure or a victim. Although Don Quijote is a book which reacts against the, literary tradition of the romances, the protagonist espouses that tradition. In a superficial way, he shows some of the above characteristics. He disagrees with the mundane values of the society around him, and rebels against them by be coming a knight. But in so doing, he is merely showing his j conformity with an older system of social values. He does j not reject social values for individual ones, he just chan ges to a different set. He is not an individualist fighting for his self-discovered values, but a rule-bound conformist ! 322 I iin his madness. He is a sympathetic character to those 'readers who always side with the underdog, but all of the evidence in the text points to a less generous interpreta tion of his actions. Finally, he is a failure and a victim, but this does not ennoble him by an inversion of values as j i \ i it does the anti-hero. It simply makes him a ridiculous : laughingstock. Don Quijote is clearly not the self-conscious anti-hero' of the underground man or twentieth-century type, because j I E the values of the universe in which he functions are orderly' i land well established. Nor is he a schlemiel. He battles , i I Jagainst evil, as the schlemiel does, but Don Quijote repre sents the disapproved set of values, whereas the schlemiel's1 I ,are the approved values in the work. He does not resemble | either type of bourgeois anti-hero, for he is neither unable I to act, nor able to act against his own values. However, ^there is a serious area of confusion regarding Don Quijote's, relationship to the picaro. Although, as Alexander Parker says, no Spaniard would ever confuse Don Quijote with the j I 3 picaro, many non-Spaniards have allowed their vague notions 3 Los picaros en la literatura; La novela picaresca en Espafia y Europa (1599-1753) , trans. Rodolfo ArSvalo Mackry (Madrid: Editorial Gredos, S.A., 1971), p. 8 . I 323 4 'of the picaro to extend to Don Quijote. i Once again, the resemblance is only superficial. It is based on the fact that both characters wander around Spain encountering adventures that are reported in an episodic i narration. This, however, is their only similarity, and it j i is hardly sufficient to justify identifying the two when ! | their other characteristics are so different. I I Both the picaro and Don Quijote are the result of a iliterary reaction against the highly artificial chivalric and pastoral romances. The picaro is an implicit criticism 1 of the earlier form because he is its opposite in every way. j I I Where the heroes of romance were aristocratic, wealthy, ! educated, and integrated into their society, the picaro is . lower-class, poor, uneducated, and an outcast. Yet he sur vives despite his handicaps and earns our grudging admira tion for his sheer power of endurance. I Don Quijote, on the other hand, is a dramatized criti cism of the romances because he tries to enact their exag gerated and fantastic adventures in the real world. He doesj not quite measure up to their standards of birth, wealth, j 4 Wilbur M. Frohock takes several recent critics to task for their exceedingly loose use of "picaro" in "The Falling Center: Recent Fiction and the Picaresque Tradition," Novel, 3 (1969), 62-69. ] 324 |and position. He is not able to accomplish the tasks he .sets himself. Where his models aid society, he harms it. The main function of the picaresque is to satirize contemporary society. The criticism of romances is normally I only implicit. In Don Quijote the situation is reversed. Its primary function is to destroy the romances. Along the way, society is satirized when the opportunity presents it- j self. Frank Chandler points out this contrast in The Ro mances of Roguery. I . . . the picaresque novels in Spain had little direct i : invective against the romances of shepherds and chivalry. I j Don Quixote alone made an organized attack upon them; j | but the anti-hero . . . presented simply the reverse side of life, leaving the reader to draw his own infer- j ences as to the absurdity of anachronistic knights and impossible shepherds. (pp. 75-76) * The picaro is a rogue. He lives by his wits, breaking ! I the laws of society and church. This places the picaro j |among the deceivers in the world. Don Quijote is among the deceived. He would never consciously break any law, or even any convention, of his society. As a knight he is elabo rately careful to follow every rule of chivalry. As a reformed man he submits himself to all the laws of the church. This is because his goals are always abstract. He disdains physical needs as much as he can in order to pursue either his chivalric or his religious ideals. The picaro 325 does not have the freedom to do this. He is ruled by the I 'demands of survival, so that his goals are always related 'to his material well-being. I j Finally, the picaro tells his own story in first- 1 person narrative, while Don Quijote's adventures are re- | counted in the third person, after having passed through the, : ! hands of at least two narrators and a translator. As a t result, the picaro is able to ensure the reader's sympathy I by the light he casts on his deeds. Don Quijote, who, un like the picaro, is not aware that his actions are criminal or anti-social, nonetheless receives less sympathy because 'he is not the one who manipulates the way in which his "adventures are presented to the reader. In spite of these very important distinctions between j 1 the picaresque anti-hero and Don Quijote, critics like I R. W. B. Lewis perpetuate the confusion. Lewis, for exam ple, lists Don Quijote as one of his "saintly plcaros" (p. 2 94). Yet what value can the term picaro possibly have if it becomes associated with "saints" instead of sinners? Lewis' new category has only succeeded in denying the essential character of the picaro. In sum, Don Quijote does not manifest the essential characteristics of any of the types of anti-heroes we have 326 identified. Without doing violence to the nature of either the knight or the anti-hero, it is impossible to find them similar in any significant way. I must agree with Ihab Hassan, who warns that those who consider Don Quijote a I candidate for the category of anti-hero are operating "in ' |the spirit of literary perversity" ("The Anti-Hero in Moderni British and American Fiction," p. 311). j i Nevertheless, the process of posing and answering the ; Iquestion of Don Quijote"s relationship with the anti-hero I i jhas been a valuable one. That a similarity could be sug- i 'gested between them is symptomatic of the critical confusion ,that has come to surround this literary classic. In order to support or refute the contention, it has been necessary j to cut away the layers of commentary, idealization, and j i popularization under which the original Don Quijote has been; i buried. And in this lies the essence of the question, for it requires a close and thorough encounter with the literary, text itself in order to determine the forces within the work' i that shape our concept of Don Quijote. If for no other ; I reason than this, the study has been justified. I I ! j BIBLIOGRAPHY I I I . I ( 327 BIBLIOGRAPHY 'Allen, John Jay. Don Quixote, Hero or Fool? A Study in Narrative Technique. Gainesville: Univ. of Florida | Press, 1969. , i Alter, Robert. Rogue's Progress: Studies in the Picaresquei Novel. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Univ. Press, 1964. [ I Avalle-Arce, J. B. and E. C. Riley. "Don Quijote." Suma i Cervantina. Ed. J. B. Avalle-Arce and E. C. Riley. I 1 London: Tame sis Books, 1973. ( <PpY')47-79. [ ^ ! Baker, Armand F. "A New Look at the Structure of Don Qui- jote." Revista de Estudios Hispcinicos, 7 (enero 1973),; 3-21. | I Bergson, Henri. Purge et simultaneity {A propos de la thgorie d'Einstein). Paris: Librairie Fglix Alcan, 1922. Blum, Carol. "Anti-hero." Dictionary of World Literary i Terms. Rev. and enl. Ed. Joseph T. Shipley. Boston: ! The Writer, Inc., 1970. Booth, Wayne C. The Rhetoric of Fiction. Chicago: Univ. ! of Chicago Press, 1961. ; | i Boyer, Clarence V. The Villain as Hero in Elizabethan Tra- ' gedy. New York: E. P. Dutton, 1914. I Brombert, Victor. The Intellectual Hero: Studies in the French Novel, 1880-1955. Philadelphia and New York: 1 J. P. Lippincott, 1960. 328 ’ 3' 2~9 Brombert, Victor, ed. The Hero in Literature. Greenwich, | Conn.: Fawcett Publications, 1969. ' j i Bus, Heiner. "Die Figur des 'Helden' im modernen amerika- j nischen Roman: ein Forschungsbericht." Jahrbuch fur i Amerikastudien^i 15 (1970) , 208-20. j ---------------- v \ I Campbell, Joseph. The Hero with 1,000 Faces. New York: j Pantheon Books, 1949. ; Casalduero, Joaquin. "Algunas caracteristicas de la litera- tura espahola del renacimiento y del barroco." Filo- logia y Critica Hisp^nica (Homenaje al profesor F. Scinchez-Escribano). Ed. A. Porqueras and C. Rojas. | Emory Univ.: Ediciones Alcaic, 1969. | . ____________________ . Sentido y forma del Quijote. Madrid: 1 Insula, 1949. Castro, Am^rico. El pensamiento de Cervantes. Madrid: ' Librerla y Casa Editorial Hernando, 1925. 1 i ! Cervantes Saavedra, Miguel de. The Adventures of Don Qui- 1 xote. Trans. J. M. Cohen. Baltimore: Penguin Books, 1 1950. ■ ___________________________. The Adventures of Don Qui xote. Trans. and_ abridged^by Dominick Daly. Illus. Johannes Troyer. New York: Macmillan, 1957. , _________ . The Adventures of Don Qui- I xote de la Mancha. Trans. Motteux. Adapted by Leigh ton Barret. Illus. Warren Chappell. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1939. _______________________________ . Don Quixote de la Mancha. Trans. Samuel Putnam. 2 vols. New York: Viking I Press, 1949. _______________________________ . Don Quixote de la Mancha. Trans. Walter Starkie. New York: New American Li brary, 1957. _______________________________ . Don Quixote of the Mancha. Retold by Judge Parry. Illus. Walter Crane. New York: John Lane, 1900. 330 Cervantes Saavedra, Miguel de. El ingenioso hidalgo don Quijote de la Mancha. Ed. Francisco Rodriguez-Marin. 9th ed. 8 vols. 1912; rpt. Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, S.A., 1967-69. Chandler, Frank Wadleigh. The Literature of Roguery. 2 vols. 1907; rpt. New York: Burt Franklin, 1958. i __________________________. Romances of Roguery. 1899; rpt. New York: Burt Franklin, 1961. j I Christensen, Nadia M. "A Comparative Study of the Anti-Hero in Danish and American Fiction." Diss. Univ. of Wash ington 1971. j Close, A. J. "Don Quixote's Love for Dulcinea: A Study of Cervantine Irony." Bulletin of Hispanic Studies, 50 (July 1973), 237-55. ; ____________ . "Sancho Panza: Wise Fool." Modern Language | j Review, 6 8 (1973), 344-57. j i i . i : Cohn, Ruby. "Four Stages of Absurdist Hero." Drama Survey, 4 (Winter 1965), 195-208. i Cordasco, F. "Smollett and the Translation of Don Quixote.", Modern Language Quarterly, 13 (1952), 23-36. Crocker, Lester. "Don Quijote, Epic of Frustration." Ro manic Review, 42 (1951), 178-88. iCurtius, Ernst R. "Unamuno." Essays on European Litera ture . Trans. Michael Kowal. Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1973. Pp. 228-47. Efron, Arthur. "Don Quixote" and the Dulcineated World. Austin: Univ. of Texas Press, 1971. j ______________. "Satire Denied: A Critical History of Eng- ; lish and American 'Don Quixote' Criticism." Diss. Univ. of Washington 1964. El Saffar, Ruth. "Development and Reorientation in the Works of Cervantes." Modern Language Notes, 8 8 (March 1973), 203-14. 331 El Saffar, Ruth. "Distance and Control in Don Quijote: A Study of Narrative Technique." Dissertation Abstracts, 27 (1967), 3425A (Johns Hopkins). t I ________________ . "The Function of the Fictional Narrator in Don Quijote." Modern Language Notes, 83 (March 1968), I 164-77. I , ________________ . Review of Don Quixote: Hero or Fool? by j John Allen. Modern Language Notes, 85 (1970), 269-73. Ferncindez-Sucirez, Alvaro. Los mitos del Quijote. Madrid: Aguilar, 1953. Fiedler, Leslie. Waiting for the End. New York: Stein andi Day, 1954. ! ■Frohock, Wilbur M. "The Falling Center: Recent Fiction and the Picaresque Tradition." Novel, 3 (1969), 62-69. I 1 i jFrye, Northrop. Anatomy of Criticism: Four Essays. New ! I York: Atheneum, 1967. j i I Galloway, David D. "Clown and Saint: The Hero in Current j American Fiction." Critique, 7 (Spring-Summer 1965), I 46-64. | ! J Garcia Hoz, Victor. "La vida heroica del hombre vulgar." * Arbor (Madrid), 15 (1950) , 305-22. Giraud, Raymond. The Unheroic Hero in the Novels of Stend- 1 hal, Balzac and Flaubert. New Brunswick, N.J.: Rut gers Univ. Press, 1957. Glicksberg, Charles I. The Self in Modern Literature. Uni versity Park: Pennsylvania State Univ. Press, 1963. Golden, Joseph. The Death of Tinker Bell: The American Theater in the Twentieth Century. Syracuse, N.Y.: i Syracuse Univ. Press, 1967. i Green, Otis H. "El ingenioso hidalgo." Hispanic Review, 25 (1957), 175-93. ; ' 332] i 'Green, Otis H. Spain and the Western Tradition: The Cas- i tilian Mind in Literature from "El Cid" to Calder6 n. 4 vols. Madison, Milwaukee, and London: Univ. of Wisconsin Press, 1968. ! ! Haley, George. "The Narrator in Don Quijote: Maese Pedro'si Puppet Show." Modern Language Notes, 80 (1965) , 145- I 65. | Hassan, Ihab H. "The Anti-Hero in Modern British and Ameri-; can Fiction." Comparative Literature: Proceedings of the Second Congress of the International Comparative Literature Association. Chapel Hill: Univ. of North Carolina Press, 1959. I, 309-23. i _______________. Radical Innocence: The Contemporary Ameri- j can Novel. Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press, 1961. ; I jHatzfeld, Helmut Anthony. El "Quijote" como obra de arte del lenguaje. Trans. M. C. de I. Madrid: Patronato [ del IV Centenario del Nacimiento de Cervantes, 1949. | | t Highet, Gilbert. The Anatomy of Satire. Princeton: Prince-, ton Univ. Press, 1962. I "Horatius Flaccus, Quintus." The Oxford Classical Diction ary. 2nd ed. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1970. Immerwahr, Raymond. "Structural Symmetry in the Episodic Narratives of Don Quijote, Part One." Comparative Literature, 10 (1958), 121-35. Jackson, Esther M. "The Emergence of the Anti-Hero in the Contemporary Drama." Central States Speech Journal, 12. (Winter 1961), 92-99. I [Juvenal]. The Satires of Juvenal. Trans. Hubert Creek- j more. New York: New American Library, 1963. Klein, Marcus. After Alienation: American Novels in Mid- Century. Cleveland and New York: World Publishing Co., 1962. Knowles, Edwin B. "Cervantes and English Literature." Cer vantes Across the Centuries. Ed. Angel Flores and M. J. Benardete. New York: Dryden Press, 1947. 333] ; I t .Korte, Donald M. An Annotated Bibliography of Smollett i Scholarship; 1946-68. Toronto: Univ. of Toronto Press, 1969. Levin, Harry. The Gates of Horn: A Study of Five French Realists. New York: Oxford Univ. Press, 1966. ,'Lewis, R. W. B. The Picaresque Saint: Representative Figures in Contemporary Fiction. Philadelphia: J. P. Lippincott, 1959. I ^insalata, Carmine Rocco. Smollett's Hoax: "Don Quixote" in English. Stanford: Stanford Univ. Press, 1956. Lubin, Harold, ed. Heroes and Anti-Heroes: A Reader in ! Depth. San Francisco: Chandler Publishing Co., 1968. j | 1 ; Mackey, Mary. "Rhetoric and Characterization in Don Qui- ; jote." Hispanic Review, 42 (Winter 1974), 51-66. ! Madariaga, Salvador de. Don Quixote: An Introductory Essay1 ! in Psychology. 193 4; rpt. London: Oxford Univ. Press,! 1966. Mandel, Oscar. "The Function of the Norm in Don Quixote." Modern Philology, 55 (Feb. 1958), 154-63. j Manno, Fort Philip. "The Anti-Hero and the Anti-Heroic | Mode: A Study in the Genesis and Development of the Victorian Poetical Protagonist." Diss. Univ. of Minne-, sota 1968. I Mendoza Varela, Eduardo. "Mito y realidad de Alonso Qui- j jano." Espiral (Bogotci) , 4 (1951) , 3-4, 8 . \ Miller, Stuart. The Picaresque Novel. Cleveland: Press of Case Western Reserve Univ., 1967. j Muecke, D. C. The Compass of Irony. London: Methuen, | 1969. Nelson, Lowry, Jr., ed. Cervantes: A Collection of Criti cal Essays. Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice-Hall, 1969. 334 Neuschafer, Hans Jorg. Per Sinn der Parodie im Don Quijote.j Heidelberg: C. Winter, 1963. ■ O'Faolain, Sean. The Vanishing Hero: Studies of Novelists j of the Twenties. London: Eyre and Spottiswoode, 1956. iOppenheimer, Max, Jr. "The Treatment of the Anti-Hero in the Literary Epic." Modern Language Forum, 33 (1948), 1-12. j I .Parker, Alexander A. "Fielding and the Structure of Don i Quixote." Bulletin of Hispanic Studies, 33 (1956), 1- j 16. 1 I ____________________ . Literature and the Delinquent: The ! Picaresque Novel in Spain and Europe, 1599-1753. j Edinburgh: At the Univ. Press, 1967. \ i __________ . Los picaros en la literatura: La 1 1 novela picaresca en Espana y Europa (1599-1753). ! Trans. Rodolfo Arevalo Mackry. Madrid: Editorial Gredos, S.A., 1971. Paulson, Ronald. The Fictions of Satire. Baltimore: Johns; Hopkins Univ. Press, 1967. ; I i ;Peers, E. Allison. "Cervantes en Inglaterra." Homenaje $ . i Cervantes. Ed. Francisco Sanchez-Castaner. Estudios 1 Cervantinos, Vol. II. Valencia: MediterrSneo, 1950. , Pp. 267-86. , ,Pelayo, Emily G. R. "Cervantes y la pol&mica de las armas y' las letras." Dissertation Abstracts, 33 (1973), 3663A (Univ. of Florida). Praz, Mario. The Hero in Eclipse in Victorian Fiction. Trans. Angus Davidson. New York: Oxford Univ. Press, j 1956. Predmore, Richard L. El mundo del Quijote. Madrid: In sula, 1958. ____________________ . "El problema de la realidad en el Quijote." Nueva Revista de Filologia Hispcinica (Me xico) , 7 (1953), 489-98. 335 I Quevedo [y Villegas, Francisco Gdmez de]. El Buscdn. ' Madrid: Ediciones de "La Lectura," 1927. I iRabelais, Frangois. The Histories of Gargantua and Panta- i gruel. Trans. J. M. Cohen. Baltimore: Penguin Books, 1955. i ! Lord Raglan. The Hero: A Study in Tradition, Myth, and Drama. 1936; rpt. London: Watts, 1949. ! Rico, Francisco. La novela picaresca y el punto de visto. 2nd ed. Barcelona: Editorial Seix Barral S.A., 1973. Riquer, Martin de. Cervantes y el Quijote. Barcelona: Editorial Teide, 1960. jRosales, Luis. "El sentido del heroismo quijotesco." Cua- ; dernos Hispano-Americanos (Madrid), 34 (abril 1958), | 39-74. i ( iRussell, P. E. "'Don Quixote' as a Funny Book." Modern 1 ■ Language Review, 64 (1969), 312-26. ! Sacks, Sheldon. Fiction and the Shape of Belief. Berkeley I and Los Angeles: Univ. of California Press, 1967. j Salinas, Pedro. Ensayos de literatura hisp^nica: Del j "Cantar de mio Cid" a Garcia Lorca. Ed. Juan Marichal.i Madrid: Aguilar, 1967. i Schulz, Max F. Black Humor Fiction of the Sixties: A 1 Pluralistic Definition of Man and His World. Athens: ! Ohio Univ. Press, 197 3. : Spivack, Charlotte K. "The Estranged Hero of Modern Litera ture." North Dakota Quarterly, 29 (Winter 1961), 13- Stanford, Raney. "The Return of a Trickster: When a Not- a-Hero Is a Hero." Journal of Popular Culture, 1 (1967) , 228-42. .Staves, Susan. "Don Quixote in Eighteenth Century England." Comparative Literature, 24 (Summer 1972), 193-215. 336 Sypher, Wylie. Loss of the Self in Modern Literature and I Art. New York: Vintage Books, 1962. Togeby, Knud. La composition du roiaan "Don Quijote." Suppl. 1 of Orbis Literarium. Copenhagen: Librairie Munksgaard, 1957. iUnamuno, Miguel de. Vida de Don Quijote y Sancho, segfln ' Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra. 2nd ed. rev. Madrid and; Buenos Aires: Renacimiento, 1914. Wardropper, Bruce W. "Don Quixote: Story or History?" Modern Philology, 63 (Aug. 1965), 1-11. , ____________________ . "The Pertinence of El Curioso Imper- tinente." PMLA, 72 (1957), 587-600. i i I i Wicks, Ulrich. "The Nature of Picaresque Narrative: A j Modal Approach." PMLA, 89 (March 1974), 240-49. ---------------------------------------------- i ! ______________. "Picaro, Picaresque: The Picaresque in | Literary Scholarship." Genre, 5 (1972), 153-92. j Willis, Raymond S., Jr. The Phantom Chapters of the Qui- 1 jote. New York: Hispanic Institute in the United States, 1953. . _____________________ . "Sancho Panza: Prototype for the * Modern Novel." Hispanic Review, 37 (1969), 207-27. Wilson, Colin. The Outsider. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, ' | 1956. Wisse, Ruth R. The Schlemiel as a Modern Hero. Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1971. Worcester, David. The Art of Satire. Cambridge, Mass.: j Harvard Univ. Press, 1940. UMI Number: DP22528 All rights reserved INFORMATION TO ALL USERS The quality of this reproduction is dependent upon the quality of the copy submitted. In the unlikely event that the author did not send a complete manuscript and there are missing pages, these will be noted. Also, if material had to be removed, a note will indicate the deletion. Published by ProQ uest LLC (2014). Copyright in the Dissertation held by the Author. Dissertation Publishing UMI DP22528 Microform Edition © ProQ uest LLC. All rights reserved. This work is protected against unauthorized copying under Title 17, United States Code ProQuest LLC. 789 East Eisenhower Parkway P.O. Box 1346 Ann Arbor, Ml 48106- 1346

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Creator King, Rona Iva (author)

Core Title The anti-hero: Don Quijote and the twentieth century

School Graduate School

Degree Doctor of Philosophy

Degree Program Comparative Literature

Degree Conferral Date 1975-08

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