Why Cervantes claimed he didn't write Don Quixote

You’ll get a lot of jokes in Don Quixote only if you’ve read Amadis of Gaul.
 

Photo by Sue Burke.

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 In front of Spain's National Library in Madrid, a statue of Miguel de Cervantes stands with one foot resting on a pair of books. One of them is spine-out, and we can read its title: Amadís de Gaula (Amadis of Gaul).

In many ways, Cervantes satirizes (or pays homage to) that tale, including a characteristic element of novels of chivalry that began with Amadis of Gaul. An earlier version of Amadis had existed since the 1300s in the form of a three-book novel, but the only surviving version, by Garci Rodríguez de Montalvo, was different, as Montalvo himself explains in his prologue:

"I corrected these three books of Amadis, such as they could be read, due to poor writers or very corrupt and dissolute scribes, and I translated and added a fourth book and a sequel, Sergas de Esplandián, which until now no one has seen. By great good fortune, a manuscript was discovered in a stone tomb beneath a hermitage near Constantinople, and it was brought by a Hungarian merchant to eastern Spain in such ancient script and old parchment that it could only be read with much difficulty by those who knew the language."

Of course, Montalvo himself wrote the fourth book and Sergas de Esplandián (Exploits of Espandian). Why lie about it? Because, as he himself put it, the novel "had been considered rank fiction rather than chronicles." By proclaiming it an ancient story and perhaps even forgotten history rather than fiction, it could obtain the status of works by Homer and Cicero.

He didn't seem to have fooled anyone, but he did set a pattern. Supposedly, the manuscript for the sequel Lisuarte de Grecia (Lisuarte of Greece) by Juan Díaz (1514) had been written in Greek in Constantinople and taken to Rhodes when the city fell to the Ottomans. Amadis de Grecia (Amadis of Greece) by Feliciano de Silva (1530) had been found in a wooden box behind a wall in a cave in Spain, hidden during the Moslem invasion in 711. Silves de la Selva (Silves of the Jungle) by Pedro de Luján (1546) was encountered in the magical sepulcher of Amadis himself, written in Arabic.

And so on. Manuscripts were discovered in distant castles and during voyages to far-off lands. Some were written in Hungarian, Latin, Tuscan, German, Chaldean, and "Indian" (Sanskrit, perhaps). A few were even supposedly written by characters from earlier novels.

Among the many jokes in Don Quixote whose punchline we have forgotten today is the one in Chapter IX. It recounts how, in a market in Toledo, a boy was selling some old paper to be reused. Cervantes looked at one of the papers, a pamphlet, and it turned out to be part of the History of Don Quixote of La Mancha, written in Arabic by Cide Hamete Benengeli. He purchased a translation of the pamphlets for two pecks of raisins and two bushels of wheat. This discovered manuscript, Cervantes claimed, became the basis of the rest of the first part of his novel. Rather than being found in some exotic place after a search filled with drama, difficulty, and great cost, Don Quixote was supposedly rescued from the garbage and translated on the cheap.

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A version of this article also appeared in Fall 2015 issue (pdf) of The Source, a quarterly publication of the American Translators Association Literary Division.

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The spurious Quixote

Cervantes did the only thing he could: write back.

The cover to this Quixote looks like most novels of chivalry.
 
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Four hundred years ago, Don Quixote was published – but not the one you’re thinking about. This one was the Continuation of the History and Adventures of the Renowned Don Quixote de La Mancha by Alonso Fernández de Avellaneda.

Never heard of it? It’s best known among scholars, and even they’re not entirely enthused about it. Here’s what happened:

The first part of Don Quixote was written by Miguel de Cervantes in 1605, and at the time he didn’t seem to be planning to write any more about the Knight of the Woeful Countenance, even though it was a big success. Unluckily for Cervantes, maybe too big of a success: it was immediately pirated. He probably didn’t make that much money from it anyway, and he always needed money.

Copyright laws weren’t as good then as they are now, so he couldn’t do much about the piracy. He also couldn’t stop someone named Alonso Fernández de Avellaneda from writing his own sequel to Cervantes’ book nine years later. It sold fairly well, even though it fell far short of a masterpiece.

Avellaneda’s version, which insults Cervantes in the prologue, tells how Don Quixote meets two knights on their way to a joust in Zaragoza. Don Quixote has recovered his sanity, but he is persuaded to undertake a life of adventure again. He arrives too late for the joust and is made fun of. He heads back to Madrid to fight a giant, and on his way, he falls in love with Barbara, a prostitute, believing she is a queen. After being the butt of more jokes in Madrid, Don Quixote is committed to an insane asylum in Toledo, Barbara enters a home for “repentant women,” and Sancho Panza goes to work for a nobleman in Madrid.

The book is marked by ridiculous humor and stereotyped characters, as well as weak writing. You can read it here if you want.

Who was this Avellaneda? A pseudonym, and the real author remains to be discovered, although there are plenty of theories.

By that time, Cervantes might have already been working on Part II of Don Quixote. If not, the spurious Quixote inspired him to reclaim his masterpiece and make some of the cash due to him for his creation. Part II takes pains to ridicule Avellaneda’s work while maintaining the profound humanity, irony, and fine humor that marks Cervantes’ genius.

The real Part II of Don Quixote de la Mancha came out in 1615, and the world is a better place because of it.

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Don Quixote fights giants

The giants win, of course.
 

Illustration by Gustave Doré for Don Quixote de La Mancha, 1863.



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Translation by John Ormsby, 1885. At Project Gutenberg.

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From Chapter VIII of Don Quixote de La Mancha, by Miguel de Cervantes: Of the good fortune which the valiant Don Quixote had in the terrible and undreamt-of adventure of the windmills, with other occurrences worthy to be recorded.

At this point they came in sight of thirty or forty windmills that there are on that plain, and as soon as Don Quixote saw them he said to his squire, "Fortune is arranging matters for us better than we could have shaped our desires ourselves, for look there, friend Sancho Panza, where thirty or more monstrous giants present themselves, all of whom I mean to engage in battle and slay, and with whose spoils we shall begin to make our fortunes; for this is righteous warfare, and it is God's good service to sweep so evil a breed from off the face of the earth."

"What giants?" said Sancho Panza.

"Those thou seest there," answered his master, "with the long arms, and some have them nearly two leagues long."

"Look, your worship," said Sancho; "what we see there are not giants but windmills, and what seem to be their arms are the sails that turned by the wind make the millstone go."

"It is easy to see," replied Don Quixote, "that thou art not used to this business of adventures; those are giants; and if thou art afraid, away with thee out of this and betake thyself to prayer while I engage them in fierce and unequal combat."

So saying, he gave the spur to his steed Rocinante, heedless of the cries his squire Sancho sent after him, warning him that most certainly they were windmills and not giants he was going to attack. He, however, was so positive they were giants that he neither heard the cries of Sancho, nor perceived, near as he was, what they were, but made at them shouting, "Fly not, cowards and vile beings, for a single knight attacks you."

A slight breeze at this moment sprang up, and the great sails began to move, seeing which Don Quixote exclaimed, "Though ye flourish more arms than the giant Briareus, ye have to reckon with me."

So saying, and commending himself with all his heart to his lady Dulcinea, imploring her to support him in such a peril, with lance ready and covered by his buckler, he charged at Rocinante's fullest gallop and fell upon the first mill that stood in front of him; but as he drove his lance-point into the sail, the wind whirled it round with such force that it shivered the lance to pieces, sweeping with it horse and rider, who went rolling over on the plain in a sorry condition. Sancho hastened to his assistance as fast as his ass could go, and when he came up found him unable to move, for with such a shock had Rocinante fallen with him.

"God bless me!" said Sancho, "did I not tell your worship to mind what you were about, for they were only windmills? and no one could have made any mistake about it but one who had something else in his head."

"Hush, friend Sancho," replied Don Quixote, "the fortunes of war more than any other are liable to frequent fluctuations; and moreover I think, and it is the truth, that that same sage Friston who carried off my study and books, has turned these giants into mills in order to rob me of the glory of vanquishing them, such is the enmity he bears me; but in the end his wicked arts will avail but little against my good sword."

"God order it as He may," said Sancho Panza, and helping him to rise got him up again on Rocinante, whose shoulder was half out; and then, discussing the late adventure, they followed the road to Puerto Lapice, for there, said Don Quixote, they could not fail to find adventures in abundance and variety, as it was a great thoroughfare.[...]

Finally they passed the night among some trees, from one of which Don Quixote plucked a dry branch to serve him after a fashion as a lance, and fixed on it the head he had removed from the broken one. All that night Don Quixote lay awake thinking of his lady Dulcinea, in order to conform to what he had read in his books, how many a night in the forests and deserts knights used to lie sleepless supported by the memory of their mistresses.
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How the printing press changed "you"

When reading changed, so did writing. 

Upper excerpt: "...what happened to him shall be told farther on. At the time when these things took place, as ye have already heard, there reigned in Great Britain a king named Falagriz, who died without an heir, leaving..." — Amadis of Gaul, Chapter 3.

Lower excerpt: "Idle reader: thou mayest believe me without any oath that I wish this book, as the child of my thoughts, were the most beautiful, charming, and prudent that could be imagined. But I have not..." — Don Quixote de la Mancha, Prologue. 
 
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In the introduction to the Spanish Royal Academy's 400th Anniversary edition of Don Quixote de la Mancha, Mario Vargas Llosa writes:

"Cervantes, in order to tell Quixote's deeds, revolutionized the narrative forms of his time and established the foundation on which the modern novel was born. [...] Perhaps the most innovative aspect of Quixote is the way in which Cervantes faced the problem of the narrator, the basic problem that must be resolved by anyone who wants to write a novel: who is going to tell the story?"

I think we should also ask: who is the story going to be told to, and how? The answer to that question helps explain the difference in narrative forms between Amadis and Quixote.

Amadis was written in Castilla-León the late Middle Ages by anonymous authors, and it was one of a number of novels of chivalry popular at that time. This was before the printing press, so books were copied by hand on parchment, which made them expensive and rare. Most people didn't read much, especially for pleasure. Instead, they listened to books at group readings for entertainment, including readings of novels of chivalry. Pero López de Ayala wrote at the end of the 14th century, "It also pleased me to hear these books many times," especially Amadis.

Often enough, these books were read during meals to audiences distracted by the soup or their dinner partners. A good story required plenty of action to capture and recapture the audience's attention, as well as a declamatory narrative style. You can see this in the text, which often addresses the listeners as "vos" in Castilian or "ye" in English, which is the plural form of "you."

You would have heard this book, not read it. Indeed, the style of the original Castilian makes Amadis is a stirring book to read aloud to an audience.

But around 1440, Gutenberg invented the printing press. By 1604, when Quixote was published, books had become more common and relatively inexpensive. Reading had become a private activity, and so, in the prologue, Cervantes addresses his readers with the second-person-singular familiar form of "you": "thou."

That reader would curl up in a sunny alcove with Quixote as if it were a close friend, and the words from the page would travel directly to his or her thoughts. Cervantes could count on attentive readers, and so the kind of story he could tell them could be different: intimate and nuanced.

Technology had revolutionized the act of reading. It had revolutionized "you." As a result, it had also revolutionized writing — that is, it had changed what authors could do. The printing press initiated a period of great and fruitful literary experimentation.

Will the Internet cause a similar revolutionary change? Will it change "you"? If so, writing will change again, and a new kind of novel will be born.
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What's a masterpiece worth?

Amadis of Gaul inspired many other novels, including Don Quixote.

A two-euro coin commemorating the 400th anniversary of the publication of Don Quixote de la Mancha.

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When Garci Rodríguez de Montalvo wrote his version of Amadis of Gaul, he probably wasn't thinking of payment. In medieval times, writing was either a gentlemanly avocation or a vocation sponsored by a gentlemanly patron. Books were hand-copied, so literature couldn't be commercialized. Montalvo was a gentleman whose occupation was managing the city of Medina del Campo near Valladolid.

But only a century later, the printing press had come into being and had turned books into an affordable mass commodity. Miguel de Cervantes wrote Don Quixote de la Mancha, a parody of books like Amadis of Gaul, for money. Writing had become a profession, and professionals got paid.

What did Cervantes earn for Quixote? We don't know, but we have enough clues to try to guess. Cervantes was poor before it was published and poor after it was published, so it wasn't a huge amount of money. Everyone agrees on that.

A little background

Don Quixote de la Mancha was published in two parts, the first in 1605 and the second in 1615. Cervantes didn't plan on a second part, but after another author wrote a continuation, he decided to write his own.

In 1604, Cervantes was 50 years old and living in Valladolid. He had written a short story about Don Quixote, and he presented the idea of a novelization to publisher Francisco de Robles, who agreed and urged Cervantes to get it ready fast. Then the book was hastily edited (which explains the many errors in the text), printed on cheap paper with worn type, and rushed to the market.

Probably no one considered it a universal masterpiece at first, but the first edition of 1,000 copies sold well — in fact, it was immediately pirated in Lisbon. Cervantes had already won notice as a playwright, and this book cemented his reputation as a major writer.

He had received a 10-year royal privilege to print Don Quixote, which he sold to Robles for an unknown amount; the paperwork was lost. But he had sold an earlier novel, La Galatea, to Robles' grandfather for 1,336 reales, of which he eventually only received 1,086.

Nieves Concostrina, a journalist with Radio Nacional de España, reported in the series Acércate al Quijote that he received no more than 100 ducados (which equals 1,100 reales or 37,500 maravedíes) for the copyright, which she estimates is worth only about €200 today.

Daniel Eisenberg, the former editor of Cervantes, the scholarly journal of the Cervantes Society of America, wrote that he probably received 1,500 reales (51,000 maravedíes), which he says would have been worth 500,000 pesetas in 1992, or €5,503.72 today. That's better, but no J.K. Rowling.

Maravedíes today

Their estimates in reales are reasonably close, so that's a start. I don't know how they arrived at modern currency, though. Converting antique currencies into present-day currencies can never be done well because, among other problems, the things that money can buy have changed. Cervantes never bought gasoline, for example. I don't buy firewood.

But both Cervantes and I live in Madrid, and we both buy food. The Instituto de Cervantes, in its on-line footnotes to Quixote, has published the prices of several food items in New Castille in 1605. So let's go shopping and do some math.

• A half-kilo of mutton sold for 28 maravedíes, according to the footnote. Mutton is no longer sold here, but a half-kilo of hamburger goes for €2.50 at my local grocery story. On that basis, 1 maravedí equals €0.089

• A chicken, 55m. The average price according to government's Food Price Observatory's latest statistics is €3.52. 1m = €0.064

• A dozen oranges, 54m. Food Price Observatory average is €4.26. 1m = €0.079

• Laying hen, 127m. Common price in local ads is €12. 1m = €0.094

• A ream of writing paper, 28m. A packet of A4 110 gr. Pioneer brand paper at Carlin, a major chain, €2.93. 1m = €0.104

• A dozen eggs, 63m. Food Price Observatory average is €1.33. 1m = €0.021 (This figure is an outlier, as you can see. The price of eggs has gone down a lot over the centuries. These days agribusinesses produce eggs in giant factory farms. Things change. For the better?)

The average of all these prices gives us 1m = €0.075. A weighted average would be better, I know, but how many laying hens do most of us buy now, so how much should they "weigh"? Not to mention the disparity in egg prices.

If we go with 7.5 euro cents, the price of a copy of Quixote, set by law at 290.5 maravedíes, would have been €21.78. That sounds a bit low. We know that books were expensive items in those days. But that price was "en papel," in paper — that is, as loose pages. The purchaser had to have them bound and covered at additional expense.

On the other hand, most people earned rather little. They would have spent a big part of their income, perhaps most of it, merely on food. According to the novel, Don Quixote spent three-fourths of his income on food for his household, and they ate frugally. A book would have taken a big bite out of tight budgets.

Not a get-rich quick scheme

If we accept that exchange rate — 1 maravedí = 7.5 euro cents — then Concostrina's estimate of 37,400 maravedíes yields €2,805. Eisenberg's 51,000 maravedíes yields €3,825.

It's not a lot. Cervantes seems to have had income from other sources at the time. I hope so.

Those of you in the 'States may be wondering what this is in US dollars. Yeesh. The dollar-euro exchange rate fluctuates daily, and there's a worldwide currency war going on now. On December 16, 2010, the value was USD$3,679.01 for Concostrina's estimate and USD$5,016.83 for Eisenberg's, but that will change. Go to Oanda for the latest numbers:
http://www.oanda.com/currency/converter/

What Cervantes thought

In Book II, Chapter LXII of Don Quixote, our knight-errant meets an author in a printing shop in Barcelona and has this conversation:

"I would venture to swear," said Don Quixote, "that you, sir, are not known in the world, which always begrudges its reward to rare wits and praiseworthy labors. What talents lie wasted there! What genius thrust away into corners! What worth left neglected! ... But tell me, sir, are you printing this book at your own risk, or have you sold the copyright to some bookseller?"

"I print at my own risk," said the author, "and I expect to make a thousand ducados at least with this first edition, which is to be of two thousand copies that should sell in the blink of an eye at six reales apiece."

"A fine calculation you are making!" said Don Quixote. "It seems you don't know the ins and outs of the printers, and the false accounting that some of them use. I promise you when you find yourself weighed down with two thousand copies, you will feel so careworn that it will astonish you, particularly if the book is unusual and not at all humorous."

"Then what!" said the author. "Sir, do you wish me to give it to a bookseller who will give three maravedíes for the copyright and think he is doing me a favor? I do not print my books to win fame in the world, for I am already well-known by my works. I want to get something out of it, otherwise fame is not worth a penny."
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Quijote 2.0

If you can read Spanish and have a video camera, you can participate.


[The Real Academia Española and YouTube need you.]

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A quick note: The Real Academia Española is organizing a reading of a famous book of chivalry, Don Quijote de la Mancha. It has divided the novel into 2,419 fragments of eight lines each, and is inviting volunteers to sign up to record themselves reading a fragment and submitting it to the project. Each segment takes one to two minutes to read.

Foreign accents are welcome, since the book belongs to the entire world. The videos already placed in the project's Gallery show that some readers have been creative with the location or execution of their reading. One man sang his segment, and a couple read their segment together.

Act fast. Many people have already volunteered. If you read, let us know the chapter and segment so we can enjoy your contribution.

http://www.youtube.com/elquijote
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Quixote Hip Hop: Hipjote

Spain's best hip hop artists celebrated the 400th anniversary of the publication of Don Quijote de la Mancha.

[Photo by SNEO Mestizaje Projects.]

I wrote this piece in 2005, and now that I've looked again at the videos, I remember what a surprising night it was.

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I was skeptical. An almost infinite number of events are being held this year in Spain for the 400th anniversary of the publication of the novel Don Quijote de la Mancha by Miguel de Cervantes. Now, the immortal text was going to be performed as rap. Spanish National Radio 3, the National Library of Spain, and the Province of Castilla-La Mancha had teamed up to create "Quijote Hip Hop."

I wasn't sure librarians and politicians were hip people, although the line-up of performers included top names: La Excepción, Zenit, Artes, and Korazón Crudo, the DJ Zeta, the graffiti artist Soso33, and the Dani Pannullo Dancetheatre Co. They planned to turn the novel into urban poetry.

In an interview on the day of the event, the director of Spanish National Radio, Pedro Piqueras, declared that the show was "the most recent madness that Radio 3 has gotten involved in, mixing a universal classic with the new ways that today's youth speak, dance and express themselves."

Everyone wants to be mad these days. It's the quixotic thing to do.

The debut on Friday night, June 17, at the steps of the National Library was free, and my husband and I went. We arrived at sunset, 10:15 p.m. The garden in front of the library was packed. We found a spot on the crowded sidewalk behind the high iron fence. Slowly, the street behind us and finally the median strip filled with people, mostly young, but a number with gray hair and a few parents with small children.

Soon, a relaxed and friendly producer mounted the library's majestic steps and explained the work, adding that some of the weird sounds in the music they were about to hear were by instruments from the age of Cervantes, such as a forerunner of the violin. He invited the audience to return during the daytime to see the library's historic exhibit about El Quixote, "Biography of a Book."

The statues of Saint Isidoro and King Alfonso the Wise towered over him in the staircase. The statue of Cervantes stood near the door in a spotlight. Panels by the entrance would display a light show. It was a hot night, and women fanned themselves.

Then fog billowed from the velvet curtains in the ornate formal entrance to the library. Music began. Zenit, a young man dressed in loose, black clothing walked out and declaimed:

En un lugar de La Mancha cuyo nombre recordar no quiero
dió comienzo aquesta historia del hidalgo
de antigua adarga, flaco rocín y corredor galgo
convertido en andante caballero.
Retales de viejos metales fueron su armadura
y un equino lleno ya de males su cabalgadura,
llano el escudero compañero de aventuras
y una moza labradora el objeto de sus locuras....
...el más famoso caballero andante por doquier,
más que Belianis de Grecia, más que Amadís de Gaula.
Aquí les dejo con esta versión rap que estos MCs han hecho de la andadura
de el Ingenioso Hidalgo Don Quijote de La Mancha, el Caballero de la Triste Figura.

(In a place in La Mancha whose name I don't want to remember / arose this story of a nobleman / with an old shield, a skinny nag and a racing greyhound / changed into a knight-errant. / Scraps of old metal served as armor / and a horse already sick as his steed / a simpleton squire as companion for his adventures / and a farm girl as the object of his madness... / ... the most famous knight-errant anywhere, / more than Belianis of Greece, more than Amadis of Gaul. / Here I bring you this rap version that these MCs have made about the deeds / of the Ingenious Nobleman Don Quixote of La Mancha, the Knight of the Woeful Countenance.)

Watch it here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jPRa_JyEe7M - professional video.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LFddRFUies8&feature=related - fan video.

The audience cheered and applauded. They were fans of the performers. As the hour-long performance went on, a few danced, but not many. They were too busy listening.

I can't exaggerate the importance of Don Quijote in Spain — like Shakespeare in English-language culture, maybe even more. The rappers and the entire crew took their task seriously.

It worked. There was a match. Hip hop is all about words, and a book is nothing but words. Spanish language has the innate rhythm and easy rhyme to make the verses fall naturally. The assertive nature of hip hop mirrored the depth of the novel. As Korazón Crudo said: "Four hundred years and still the same / it's the essence of a human being. . . . Beauty and love have meaning. ... Passion isn't crazy."

The hip hop artists also proclaimed the importance of books, praised literature and culture, and proudly cited the portions of the text that their songs encompassed.

The encore, delivered by Korazón Crudo, reprised Chapter 3.

More videos:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Buk95xTsjVQ&NR=1
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qfYAI3e-_8A&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F9wGEzkAVN4&NR=1
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F_aNxgx0NJM&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Di5hMGuRDf4&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rvs4jiVzVZA&feature=related
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AZZnrJj_0zU&feature=related

The words to the raps here:
http://www.hhdirecto.net/letras/ver/quijote-hip-hop-2005/301
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Quixote Out Loud

"...I don't plan to earn my fame by being brave but by being the best and most loyal squire who ever served a knight-errant..." – Sancho Panza.

[A high school student reads at the podium while the next volunteer receives her assignment. Photo by Sue Burke.]

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For the past 14 years, to celebrate the anniversary of Cervantes' death (actually, his interment) on April 23, the Círculo de Bellas Artes of Madrid organizes a marathon reading of Don Quijote de la Mancha. Each volunteer reads a short portion of the work. I volunteered in 2008 and again this year.

I arrived at the Círculo de Bellas Artes, a seven-story cultural center in downtown Madrid, a little before 10 a.m. on a warm, sunny spring day. The sidewalk and the lobby were bustling, and TV news crews busily recorded the scene. I recognized two prominent Spanish politicians on my way to fifth-floor Hall of Columns where the reading was taking place. April 23 was World Book Day, and a cultural center was the place to be seen.

I registered in the lobby outside the hall. Some readers and groups pre-register, and some like me walk in off the street. The volunteers handed me my volunteer-off-the-street ticket, Number 176, and apologized. "It will take a long time to get to that number, an hour, maybe more."

One of them pointed out an electronic display board and explained that they were all over the building including the cafés. He said they would alert me when my number was coming up if I wanted to go relax elsewhere. I said I would enjoy watching the reading. He apologized again because the hall, with more than 100 seats, was filled to standing-room-only.

But I had read two years ago and expected all this. I went into the hall and found a comfortable place to stand. The brightly lit stage held a table and lectern. Above it was projected an old movie version of Don Quijote. At the dimly lit sides of the hall, technicians managed equipment for Radio Círculo and Instituto Cervantes TV, and staff organized the readers waiting to go on stage.

On the podium, high school students were reading the sonnets at the end of Part One with varying degrees of confidence as their friends in the audience snapped photos. Each volunteer read until the woman who was assigning the readings said "Muchas gracias." Then the reader stepped off the stage to applause, and it was the next volunteer's turn.

At the start of Part Two, Chapter II, the Cervantes Institute connected to its Pekin branch, where three people active in Spanish literature – Dong Yanshen, Fan Hong Yu, and Xu Ying – each read a section. They spoke Spanish with good accents.

The reading returned to the room. A few VIPs slipped in among the students, along with some volunteers from the street. At the start of Chapter IV, Radio Círculo connected to the Madrid Women's Penal Institute, where two inmates read.

At 11:15, my number came up. I signed in, and then sat next to the woman assigning the readings. She followed along in a large-print text as the person ahead of me read. When he reached the end of a sentence, she said, "Muchas gracias." It was my turn.

The book on the podium was the same large-print edition. My section began with the words "Yo, señor Sansón" halfway down the page in the middle of a line. I found it and began reading with as much inflection as I could, though I was reading only a half-word ahead of where my finger was following the text.

I reached the end of the long sentence. "Muchas gracias," the woman said, and I stepped down from the stage to applause.

I remained to listen to Chapter V. Most of the high school students had left. The Ambassador of Ireland read a few paragraphs; so did another VIP and a lot of ordinary people.

When I left the hushed hall for the busy lobby, I got a gift of a paper doll reading a book from the Guild of Madrid Booksellers. Downstairs, in the even more busy main entrance, a television displayed someone reading from Chapter VI. Sixty-eight chapters remained.

Here's the section I read:

"...Yo, señor Sansón, no pienso granjear fama de valiente, sino del mejor y más leal escudero que jamás sirvió a caballero andante; y si mi señor don Quijote, obligado de mis muchos y buenos servicios, quisiere darme alguna ínsula de las muchas que ha de topar por ahí, recibiré mucha merced en ello; y cuando no me la diere, nascido soy, y no ha de vivir el hombre en hoto de otro, sino de Dios; y más, que tan bien y aun quizá mejor me sabrá el pan desgobernado que siendo gobernador; ¿y sé yo por ventura si en esos gobiernos me tiene aparejada el diablo alguna zancadilla donde tropiece y caiga y me haga las muelas?..."

"...I, Senor Samson, don't plan to earn my fame by being brave but by being the best and most loyal squire who ever served a knight-errant; and if my master Don Quixote, in consideration of my many fine services, is pleased to give me some island of the many that must be around these parts, I will take it as a great favor; and if he does not give it to me, I was born to suffer, and a man must not live depending on others, only on God; and what is more, my bread will taste as good and perhaps even better without a government than if I were a governor; how do I know but that in these governments the devil may have prepared some trick to make me trip and fall and knock out my molars?..."
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"Get Up Close to Quixote"

The King of Spain honors a radio series about the most famous chivalry novel of our time.

First page of the first edition.

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Don Quixote is in the news again. Actually, Cervantes' book, which was inspired by novels like Amadis de Gaula, rarely escapes notice here in Spain, but three activities merit special attention today.

One. Nieves Conconstrina received the King of Spain International Journalism Prize on April 13 for her series Acércate al Quijote (Get Up Close to Quixote) on Radio Nacional de España. The five-minute episodes in the series offer carefully researched details about the work mixed with her mordant sense of humor.

In the first episode, she explains why the book has so many copyediting errors, and in another episode, how no one knows what "duelos y quebrantos" are, something the book says Don Quixote ate every Saturday. (All the possible recipes suggested for the dish sound pretty awful: eggs scrambled with pork fatback or with lamb brains, for example.) You can find MP3 files of the series here, in Spanish of course.

She received the award from King Juan Carlos II himself, and she praised Miguel de Cervantes as "a great chronicler of his time" who ought to have worked for Radio Nacional de España.

Two. Cervantes was interred on April 23, 1616, the same date as William Shakespeare died (but on a different day, since the two countries used different calendars), so April 23 is UNESCO's World Book Day. Madrid's celebrations will include 500 activities at bookstores, libraries, cultural institutions, theaters, and restaurants, plus free tapas at certain bars for patrons with fresh receipts from bookstores.

Three. To celebrate the day, the Circulo de Bellas Artes in Madrid will host the 14th annual Continuous Reading of Quixote. Since it takes 48 hours to read the whole book out loud, the reading actually starts today, April 22, and ends on April 24. Celebrities, students, and volunteers off the street each proclaim a few paragraphs in the reading relay marathon.
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The house where Cervantes was born

As an adult, Cervantes suffers constant money troubles, but his parents had lived well.


[Don Quixote recites a passage from Chapter II of a book about him as we sit in front of Cervantes' Birthplace-Museum: "Happy the age, happy the century, when my deeds of fame shall be brought to light, worthy to be molded in brass, carved in marble, painted on canvas, to be remembered in the future." Photo by Jerry Finn.]

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Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra wrote one of Spain's approximately 100 medieval and Renaissance novels of chivalry — and that single work eclipsed the rest of his opus, the rest of the genre, and possibly the rest of entire literary output of Spain, which is considerable.

So, of course, everything that Cervantes did has evoked tremendous interest, including being born. The exact date isn't known, but the place is: Calle Mayor (Main Street) 48, in Alcalá de Henares, a city near Madrid. He was baptized in Santa María Church nearby on October 9, 1547. His family left for Valladolid in 1551.

The house has been restored to its original appearance and has become Alcalá's most popular tourist attraction. Actually, it's a pretty ordinary house for a well-to-do family of the time, which is to say, it's nice.

Visitors get an excellent booklet to explain the house and its furnishings, and the staff can answer any question. However, the website is so outstanding that going there is almost better than a live visit, except that if you visited in person, you'd be in Spain, and what could compete with that?

The site is in both English:
http://www.museo-casa-natal-cervantes.org/english/default.asp
and Spanish:
http://www.museo-casa-natal-cervantes.org/

You will notice a book open and displayed on a stand in the Estrado, or Ladies' Parlor. Although you can't read the title in the photos, I took a close look when I was there, and it's Amadís de Gaula.
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Don Quixote confronts lions in a parody of Amadis of Gaul's adventure

Wherein is shown the furthest and highest point which the unexampled courage of Don Quixote reached or could reach; together with the happily achieved adventure of the lions.

[This plaque is on the wall of the Convent of the Discalced Trinitarians on Lope de Vega Street in Madrid. It's near the site of Miguel de Cervantes' home, where he died in 1616. As the plaque says, he lies in the convent's crypt, in accordance with his last wishes, but don't plan on visiting him. Last year a newspaper reporter tried. "We know he's here," a nun told him, "but we don't know exactly where." Whether due to the remodeling of the chapel in the convent or to the amnesia of hundreds of years, Cervantes' remains have been misplaced. I think he would find that funny. Photo by Sue Burke.]

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Lions occur frequently in chivalrous tales, including Chapter 21 of Amadis of Gaul. Miguel de Cervantes parodied this episode in Don Quixote de la Mancha. A cart approaches with a mysterious cargo, which turns out to be a pair of lions, and Don Quixote madly challenges them, much as Amadis rashly challenged the knights guarding the cart. Cervantes also parodies the authorial outbursts in Amadis.

By the way, you can get the full text of Ormsby's landmark translation of Don Quixote from Project Gutenburg at:
http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/996

Don Quixote de la Mancha by Miguel de Cervantes, translated by John Ormsby in 1885. Book II, Chapter XVII [excerpted]:

... Don Quixote put [his helmet] on, and settling himself firmly in his stirrups, easing his sword in the scabbard, and grasping his lance, he cried, "Now, come who will, here am I, ready to try conclusions with Satan himself in person!"

By this time the cart with the flags had come up, unattended by anyone except the carter on a mule, and a man sitting in front. Don Quixote planted himself before it and said, "Whither are you going, brothers? What cart is this? What have you got in it? What flags are those?"

To this the carter replied, "The cart is mine; what is in it is a pair of wild caged lions, which the governor of Oran is sending to court as a present to his Majesty; and the flags are our lord the King's, to show that what is here is his property."

"And are the lions large?" asked Don Quixote.

"So large," replied the man who sat at the door of the cart, "that larger, or as large, have never crossed from Africa to Spain; I am the keeper, and I have brought over others, but never any like these. They are male and female; the male is in that first cage and the female in the one behind, and they are hungry now, for they have eaten nothing today, so let your worship stand aside, for we must make haste to the place where we are to feed them."

Hereupon, smiling slightly, Don Quixote exclaimed, "Lion-whelps to me! To me whelps of lions, and at such a time! Then, by God, those gentlemen who send them here shall see if I am a man to be frightened by lions. Get down, my good fellow, and as you are the keeper open the cages, and turn me out those beasts, and in the midst of this plain I will let them know who Don Quixote of La Mancha is, in spite and in the teeth of the enchanters who send them to me."

... The carter, seeing the determination of this apparition in armour, said to him, "Please your worship, for charity's sake, señor, let me unyoke the mules and place myself in safety along with them before the lions are turned out; for if they kill them I am ruined for life, for all I possess is this cart and mules."

"O man of little faith," replied Don Quixote, "get down and unyoke; you will soon see that you are exerting yourself for nothing, and that you might have spared yourself the trouble."

The carter got down and with all speed unyoked the mules, and the keeper called out at the top of his voice, "I call all here to witness that against my will and under compulsion I open the cages and let the lions loose, and that I warn this gentleman that he will be accountable for all the harm and mischief which these beasts may do, and for my salary and dues as well. You, gentlemen, place yourselves in safety before I open, for I know they will do me no harm."

... Hearing this, Sancho with tears in his eyes entreated him to give up an enterprise compared with which the one of the windmills, and the awful one of the fulling mills, and, in fact, all the feats he had attempted in the whole course of his life, were cakes and fancy bread. "Look ye, señor," said Sancho, "there's no enchantment here, nor anything of the sort, for between the bars and chinks of the cage I have seen the paw of a real lion, and judging by that I reckon the lion such a paw could belong to must be bigger than a mountain."

"Fear at any rate," replied Don Quixote, "will make him look bigger to thee than half the world. Retire, Sancho, and leave me; and if I die here thou knowest our old compact; thou wilt repair to Dulcinea — I say no more." To these he added some further words that banished all hope of his giving up his insane project.

...Sancho was weeping over his master's death, for this time he firmly believed it was in store for him from the claws of the lions; and he cursed his fate and called it an unlucky hour when he thought of taking service with him again; but with all his tears and lamentations he did not forget to thrash Dapple so as to put a good space between himself and the cart. The keeper, seeing that the fugitives were now some distance off, once more entreated and warned him as before; but he replied that he heard him, and that he need not trouble himself with any further warnings or entreaties, as they would be fruitless, and bade him make haste.

During the delay that occurred while the keeper was opening the first cage, Don Quixote was considering whether it would not be well to do battle on foot, instead of on horseback, and finally resolved to fight on foot, fearing that Rocinante might take fright at the sight of the lions; he therefore sprang off his horse, flung his lance aside, braced his buckler on his arm, and drawing his sword, advanced slowly with marvellous intrepidity and resolute courage, to plant himself in front of the cart, commending himself with all his heart to God and to his lady Dulcinea.

It is to be observed, that on coming to this passage, the author of this veracious history breaks out into exclamations. "O doughty Don Quixote! High-mettled past extolling! Mirror, wherein all the heroes of the world may see themselves! Second modern Don Manuel de Leon, once the glory and honour of Spanish knighthood! In what words shall I describe this dread exploit, by what language shall I make it credible to ages to come, what eulogies are there unmeet for thee, though they be hyperboles piled on hyperboles! On foot, alone, undaunted, high-souled, with but a simple sword, and that no trenchant blade of the Perrillo brand, a shield, but no bright polished steel one, there stoodst thou, biding and awaiting the two fiercest lions that Africa's forests ever bred! Thy own deeds be thy praise, valiant Manchegan, and here I leave them as they stand, wanting the words wherewith to glorify them!"

Here the author's outburst came to an end, and he proceeded to take up the thread of his story, saying that the keeper, seeing that Don Quixote had taken up his position, and that it was impossible for him to avoid letting out the male without incurring the enmity of the fiery and daring knight, flung open the doors of the first cage, containing, as has been said, the lion, which was now seen to be of enormous size, and grim and hideous mien. The first thing he did was to turn round in the cage in which he lay, and protrude his claws, and stretch himself thoroughly; he next opened his mouth, and yawned very leisurely, and with near two palms' length of tongue that he had thrust forth, he licked the dust out of his eyes and washed his face; having done this, he put his head out of the cage and looked all round with eyes like glowing coals, a spectacle and demeanour to strike terror into temerity itself. Don Quixote merely observed him steadily, longing for him to leap from the cart and come to close quarters with him, where he hoped to hew him in pieces.

So far did his unparalleled madness go; but the noble lion, more courteous than arrogant, not troubling himself about silly bravado, after having looked all round, as has been said, turned about and presented his hind-quarters to Don Quixote, and very coolly and tranquilly lay down again in the cage. Seeing this, Don Quixote ordered the keeper to take a stick to him and provoke him to make him come out.

"That I won't," said the keeper; "for if I anger him, the first he'll tear in pieces will be myself. Be satisfied, sir knight, with what you have done, which leaves nothing more to be said on the score of courage, and do not seek to tempt fortune a second time. The lion has the door open; he is free to come out or not to come out; but as he has not come out so far, he will not come out today. Your worship's great courage has been fully manifested already; no brave champion, so it strikes me, is bound to do more than challenge his enemy and wait for him on the field; if his adversary does not come, on him lies the disgrace, and he who waits for him carries off the crown of victory."

"That is true," said Don Quixote; "close the door, my friend, and let me have, in the best form thou canst, what thou hast seen me do, by way of certificate; to wit, that thou didst open for the lion, that I waited for him, that he did not come out, that I still waited for him, and that still he did not come out, and lay down again. I am not bound to do more; enchantments avaunt, and God uphold the right, the truth, and true chivalry! Close the door as I bade thee, while I make signals to the fugitives that have left us, that they may learn this exploit from thy
lips."

The keeper obeyed, and Don Quixote, fixing on the point of his lance the cloth he had wiped his face with..., proceeded to recall the others, who still continued to fly, looking back at every step, all in a body, the gentleman bringing up the rear. Sancho, however, happening to observe the signal of the white cloth, exclaimed, "May I die, if my master has not overcome the wild beasts, for he is calling to us."

They all stopped, and perceived that it was Don Quixote who was making signals, and shaking off their fears to some extent, they approached slowly until they were near enough to hear distinctly Don Quixote's voice calling to them. They returned at length to the cart, and as they came up, Don Quixote said to the carter, "Put your mules to once more, brother, and continue your journey; and do thou, Sancho, give him two gold crowns for himself and the keeper, to compensate for the delay they have incurred through me."

"That will I give with all my heart," said Sancho; "but what has become of the lions? Are they dead or alive?"

The keeper, then, in full detail, and bit by bit, described the end of the contest, exalting to the best of his power and ability the valour of Don Quixote, at the sight of whom the lion quailed, and would not and dared not come out of the cage, although he had held the door open ever so long; and showing how, in consequence of his having represented to the knight that it was tempting God to provoke the lion in order to force him out, which he wished to have done, he very reluctantly, and altogether against his will, had allowed the door to be closed.

"What dost thou think of this, Sancho?" said Don Quixote. "Are there any enchantments that can prevail against true valour? The enchanters may be able to rob me of good fortune, but of fortitude and courage they cannot."

Sancho paid the crowns, the carter put to, the keeper kissed Don Quixote's hands for the bounty bestowed upon him, and promised to give an account of the valiant exploit to the King himself, as soon as he saw him at court.

"Then," said Don Quixote, "if his Majesty should happen to ask who performed it, you must say the Knight of the Lions; for it is my desire that into this the name I have hitherto borne of Knight of the Rueful Countenance be from this time forward changed, altered, transformed, and turned; and in this I follow the ancient usage of knights-errant, who changed their names when they pleased, or when it suited their purpose."...
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Why "quixote"? Because it's funny

Sometimes it's hard to translate humor without being pedantic. I won't let that stop me.


[Quixotes. Photo by Sue Burke]

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From Chapter I of Don Quixote de La Mancha by Miguel de Cervantes, as translated by John Ormsby in 1885:

"...Having got a name for his horse so much to his taste, he was anxious to get one for himself, and he was eight days more pondering over this point, till at last he made up his mind to call himself Don Quixote, whence, as has been already said, the authors of this veracious history have inferred that his name must have been beyond a doubt Quixada, and not Quesada as others would have it. Recollecting, however, that the valiant Amadis was not content to call himself curtly Amadis and nothing more, but added the name of his kingdom and country to make it famous, and called himself Amadis of Gaul, he, like a good knight, resolved to add on the name of his, and to style himself Don Quixote of La Mancha, whereby, he considered, he described accurately his origin and country, and did honour to it in taking his surname from it...."

Here's what these words really mean:

Quixote: the piece of armor that covers the thigh. Called "cuisse" in English.

Quixada: jaw.

Quesada: jaw. Or cheese-filled pastry.

Mancha: spot or stain, and thus metaphorically, dishonor or shame, a stain upon one's good name. La Mancha is the arid plateau of central Spain; the name comes from the Arabic la manxa, which means "parched earth" for its lack of water.

So you could translate Don Quixote de La Mancha, a name that Cervantes' hero spent eight days devising, as "Thigh Armor of Dishonor."
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Quixote vs. Amadis

[Photo: Tilework depiction of Don Quixote from the Plaza de España Monument, built for the 1929 Ibero-American Exposition in Parque María Louisa, Seville.]

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Don Quijote de La Mancha is a lot funnier if you read Amadís de Gaula first. Miguel de Cervantes wrote Don Quixote in 1605 as a satire of books of chivalry (among other targets), and Amadís set the style for the genre.

Knighthood is a job for strong, handsome, healthy young men, but Don Quixote was a skinny old man. Knights-errant had vanished from Spanish society long ago, if they had ever really existed (they didn't), along with their noble codes of conduct.

A squire, according to the books, should be a noble youth who serves his knight for fame and glory, but Don Quixote's squire, Sancho Panza, was a poor, illiterate peasant who was in it for the money.

A knight's lady-love should be a noblewoman, preferably a princess who will confer a kingdom or empire to her knight upon marriage. Don Quixote pledged himself to "Dulcinea," a poor servant who was far from the most beautiful woman in the world nor the most chaste, to put it kindly.

Chivalric tales take place in lush, idealized settings, but La Mancha was impoverished and dusty. The geography refused to cooperate when Don Quixote tried to recreate some of the specific adventures of the novels.

Knights in the novels speak in mannered, lofty speech, but try as he might, Don Quixote couldn't master it and confused the people he spoke with.

Mundane concerns like money never enter into chivalric tales, but Don Quixote discovered to his disappointment that he had to use it. In fact, people defecate in Don Quixote. Turds in Amadís? Unimaginable.

Chivalric tales take place among nobles. Peasants and base servants appear only in the background, if at all. But Don Quixote found himself dealing with vulgar innkeepers and even lower elements of society, although he imagined them to be castellans, lords, and ladies.

Like the knights-errant in well paced tales, Don Quixote expected to encounter adventures at every turn in the road, including battles with fantastic beings like giants, which are common in chivalric novels. Instead he found windmills....

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Note: Quixote, Quijote? Quijote is the modern Spanish spelling, Quixote the 16th-century Spanish spelling. English adapted the original spelling and has stuck with it.
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