Our selection this week covered chapters 42-53. Perhaps including “the rise” in my sub-heading for today is not quite apt. Sancho has been after an ínsula for most of the novel. And Sancho doesn’t really fall either. We watch Sancho govern, surprisingly well, the land-locked “ínsula” of Barataria (which means “cheap”) for 10 days. Many of us expected Sancho to fail miserably at governing, but he does well solving the riddles and giving advice to the tough problems thrown at him at the behest of the scheming Duke and Duchess. In addition, as someone noted, he follows the good advice of Don Quixote, who speaks in the tradition of Erasmus as opposed to Machiavelli.
We collectively felt sorrow for Sancho and anger towards the Duchess and Duke as Sancho steps down from his governorship. While in the midst of battle, as Barataria is being “attacked” by “invaders,” after being tied between two shields so that he could not move, run over, and stood upon, Sancho cries out:
“Oh, if only Our Lord would put an end to the loss if this ínsula, and I would find myself dead or free of this affliction!” (chapter 53, p. 806)
And it has been difficult for Sancho--he’s been almost starved on a diet of wafers, he’s up all night dispensing advice, et cetera. After the battle Sancho faints, and when he comes to he knows it’s time to leave. He’s not dead, so he must be free. Being governor is a kind of death.
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| Sancho and his grey, leaving the ínsula. Illustration from chapter 53, by Gustave Doré. |
He and his grey, his ever-faithful companion, depart.
“Make way, Señores, and let me return to my old liberty; let me go and find my past life, so that I can come back from this present death. I was not born to be a governor, or to defend ínsulas or cities from enemies who want to attack them. [. . .] God keep your graces, and tell my lord the duke that I was born naked, and I’m naked now: I haven’t lost or gained a thing; I mean, I came into this governorship without a blanca, and I’m leaving without one, which is very different from how the governors or other ínsulas leave.” (chapter 53, pp. 807-808)
We don’t like the duke and duchess. Those of us who felt they were pranksters before are more convinced now that they are more sinister, that they abuse their power (I must admit that I am also watching the fourth season of House of Cards, which is surely an influence on my thinking about abuses of power). But the Duke and Duchess and their entourage aren’t able to take Sancho’s dignity away, despite their tricks. Sancho gives up the governorship, but he does not fail. He leaves on his own terms, for the liberty the errant life.
Aside from the plot, there were aspects of Cervantes’ technique that fascinated us. One of these techniques were the letters, between Sancho and Don Quixote, to and from Sancho and his wife Teresa, from the Duke. We wondered about why there were so many letters, beyond a perhaps obvious answer that letters connect people across geographic distances. Maybe Cervantes uses letters because he cannot include novellas (though the virtues of novellas are defended in chapter 44). Perhaps the letters are a parody on distance. None of the characters are that far away from one another, and yet they send letters back and forth.
We also talked about postmodernism and modernism, and various ways of understanding Cervantes’ masterpiece. But unless you want to talk about Judith Butler or critiques of modern notions of the self, then “postmodernism” is a bit too much for this humble author to take on!
Some of our members referenced some interesting articles that related to Don Quixote. We talked about the Cave of Montesinos and Don Quixote’s Christ-like moments. I’ll post links to some of these resources tomorrow for further readings!
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