I read this classic many years ago, and I know that most critics see it as a work of satire-Cervantes was criticizing Spanish society for its backward attitudes. My questionis: at the time Cervantes lived, were there still knights in armor? Or was the whole thing finished by 1400 or so? The era of knighthood is still appealing to the romantics-of course, it was an era of ignorance ad cruelty. But, in trying to emulate the past, did poor Don Quixote realize how foolish he was? :smack:
The real question is, should Don Quixote be taught in high school English as a hero in a greek comedy novel kind of way ?
Now for your question:My husband says that knights in armor were done by 1200 or earlier. He says that it was supposed to be funny ha-ha book by making fun of all of the characters.
As for the foolishness question, no, he didn’t realize how foolish he was.
No, part of the plot is that Don Quixote is oblivious to how foolish he looks. He goes crazy after reading all those books that idealized knighthood and courtesan love. The knighthood era that he is trying to emulate and revive was done and gone many many years before the start of the novel.
Well, your husband’s wrong by about three hundred years, but he’s right about Don Quixote being funny. It’s a social mirror, so its readers were all laughing at some aspect of themselves.
Don Quixote is cutting-edge 17th century social satire, written when Spain was slowly but inexorably losing its place as a major world power. Fortunately for us, art and literature were flourishing even in the midst of successive wars and political decay. Cervantes was one of the new wave of writers who were changing the form of fiction, and he unmercifully spoofed the chivalric romances that had been stuck in a certain set of conventions for centuries. Etc., etc. Starting to bore myself.
I’d disagree with your husband. “Knights in armor” in terms of heavily armored noblemen raised as a temporary fighting force, were important into at least the early 15th century ( 'twas a disastrous and impetuous charge by Burgundian/French knights that led to disaster at Nicopolis in 1396 ) and heavily armored calvary in general into at least the 16th ( i.e. standing forces like the French ‘gendarmes’ ). Most of the fancy suits of articulated plate armour you see displayed in museums like the Met date from the 15th and 16th century.
However that certainly didn’t preclude the stereotype of the chivalrous knight being mocked much earlier.
More to the point, it never existed. Don Quixote was not imitating Bohemond or Barbarossa, he was imitating Lancelot and Orlando and Amadis of Gaul.
Just picking here…
(from Wikipedia):
A courtesan in mid-16th century usage referred to a mistress, especially one associated with wealthy, powerful, or upper-class men who provided luxuries and status in exchange for her companionship. In Renaissance Europe, courtesans played an important role in upper-class society, sometimes taking the place of wives at social functions.
I suspect you mean to refer to “courtly love” (Wikipedia again):
The term “courtly love” was first popularized by Gaston Paris in 1883, and has since come under a wide variety of definitions and uses, even being dismissed as nineteenth-century romantic fiction.
Hmm… yes, that is what I meant. Don Quixote (in his craziness) thought that he had a lady of high social class that he loved (but it had to remain platonic) and for whom he did all his actions. The “lady” was in reality a woman of low reputation. I don’t remember if they outright say she worked as a prostitute, but I think it was implied (it’s been 7 years, yikes!, since I had to read it).
She was a slattern in a bar, which means it was pretty much taken for granted that she either slept around or slept around for money.
The only version of Don Quixote I’ve read is an expurgated version in dumbed-down Spanish in high school. It took most of the more salacious stuff out and focused on vocab, if I remember correctly.
One pair of arms is like another
I don’t know why, or who’s to blame
I’ll go with you, or with your brother
It’s all the same
It’s all the same
So don’t talk to me of love
I’m not a fool
With starry eyes
Just put your money in my hand
And you will get
What money buys!
If you start dreaming the impossible dream, BrainGlutton, I’m taking my donkey and going home. I hate that musical like I hate no other. Except maybe “Bye-bye, Birdie.”
Though that’s what she is in the musical… in the book, I don’t see that
That’s not so much “slattern” as “girl next door.”
It’s also how I know that my dad (who loves the musical*) never actually read the book even though he made me read it.
*This is a strange musical for me. I like the songs, but I can’t stand the book
There’s not even any proof that she exists outside Quixote’s imagination. The reader never meets her in the text. Sancho lies and claims he meets an enchanted Dulcinea del Toboso, but he’s only trying to get Quixote off his back. Later, the Duchess convinces Sancho that Dulcinea does exist and Sancho’s own tale of enchantment is, indeed, true.
Ah, I’m probably conflating the book and the musical. We read the book and then watched the musical, thereby cementing my hate of the musical and the book, though I seem to remember the version we read emphasizing Aldonza’s lowly status.
I can’t stand the musical at all. I hear “Dream the Impossible Dream” and I’m just filled with distaste. I have to leave the room.
Were there still knights in Spain though? And if so, damn my husband for leading me astray. He’s been my go to source for Spanish history, don’t tell me I need to find a new source. 
That’s an interesting read on it–I always thought that she was “real” (or anyway as “real” as a character in a novel can be) since Sancho claims to know the real girl and gives a vivid description of her–maybe she is a joint figment of Sancho’s and Quixote’s entwined imaginations.
I think there is also something about her minding pigs, but I couldn’t find that.
What do you mean by a “greek comic novel”?–honest question as I would like to read one.
At the end of the second book, he recovers his sanity, dying shortly thereafter.
Kinghts as in “dudes who went to war in full armor riding equally-armored horses,” not much, at least in the Iberian peninsula itself. But the concept of hidalgos was quite the social pest (still is in many ways, even if the word isn’t used any more). Hidalgos were caballeros, just neither required to bring their own horse to the king’s service any more (which is where “caballero” comes from, they were the ones who owned “caballos,” ie horses) nor armored. Caballero means both “knight” and “gentleman”, the two notions aren’t really separated in Spanish, even if the military meaning sounds more like horses. My grandfather was in tanks and they would be reminded that “since we’re the replacement for the cavalry, you’re all knights and should behave as such (as gentlemen).”
An hidalgo (hijo d’algo, “son of some-title-or-other”) is someone who is descended of nobility; too “high class” to do manual labor or become a merchant, too poor to live off rents.
Alonso Quijano was an hidalgo; he had some land but not really enough, yet his social status required him to avoid any kind of job other than the military or the Church. Captain Alatriste in the novels and movie of that same name is an hidalgo as well; in this case, one with no land who’s chosen a life in the military.
In a way, the whole concept of “having to live up to your foreparents’ nobility” without the chance to actually repeat the deeds that got said foreparents their land is very much linked to the obsession with Chivalry novels and heroic deeds. You belong to this social class where a second- or third-son may actually have better economic prospects than a first-son: the first-son inherits the family land (depending on the region, minus whatever got sold to “dowry” the rest of the siblings) and must take care of it, while the younger sons go out into the world as priests or soldiers. And if you’re one of the younger sons, you have a shot at glory, but it involves going to Flandes (where people shoot bullets at you and the blonde girls are pretty but likely to knife your sorry Spanish ass) or America (where people shoot arrows at you and the brunettes are pretty but likely to knife your sorry Spanish ass), or becoming a priest and not being able to recognize legally any children you ever get…
I think “Dulcinea” would translate roughly as “Sweetie.”
Well, it’s a derivative of “Dulce,” meaning “Sweet.” I don’t know if it would be used as a vocative the way “sweetie” is, though (as in “hey, sweetie, could I have another coffee?”)
Random Comment:
I bought this “classic” and tried reading it for the first time a couple months ago. Damn this book was tedious and boring. Yeah, Quixote was insane and somewhat comical…for the first chapter. Then it got tiresome and repetitive in the extreme. I got half way through and the story didn’t even make a little progress and the characters didn’t develop at all. It’ll gather dust from now on.