The London Lounge

Almost exactly four centuries old, and how actual Don Quijote’s advice to Sancho Panza for governing his imaginary promised island remains:

"First of all, my son, thou must fear God, for in the fear of him is wisdom, and being wise thou canst not err in aught.
"Secondly, thou must keep in view what thou art, striving to know thyself, the most difficult thing to know that the mind can imagine. If thou knowest thyself, it will follow thou wilt not puff thyself up like the frog that strove to make himself as large as the ox.
"Glory in thy humble birth, Sancho, and be not ashamed of saying thou art peasant-born; for when it is seen thou art not ashamed no one will set himself to put thee to the blush; and pride thyself rather upon being one of lowly virtue than a lofty sinner. Countless are they who, born of mean parentage, have risen to the highest dignities, pontifical and imperial, and of the truth of this I could give thee instances enough to weary thee.
"Remember, Sancho, if thou make virtue thy aim, and take a pride in doing virtuous actions, thou wilt have no cause to envy those who have princely and lordly ones, for blood is an inheritance, but virtue an acquisition, and virtue has in itself alone a worth that blood does not possess.
"What I have thus far addressed to thee are instructions for the adornment of thy mind; listen now to those which tend to that of the body."

Who, hearing the foregoing discourse of Don Quixote, would not have set him down for a person of great good sense and greater rectitude of purpose? But, as has been frequently observed in the course of this great history, he only talked nonsense when he touched on chivalry, and in discussing all other subjects showed that he had a clear and unbiassed understanding; so that at every turn his acts gave the lie to his intellect, and his intellect to his acts; but in the case of these second counsels that he gave Sancho he showed himself to have a lively turn of humour, and displayed conspicuously his wisdom, and also his folly.
"With regard to the mode in which thou shouldst govern thy person and thy house, Sancho, the first charge I have to give thee is to be clean, and to cut thy nails, not letting them grow as some do, whose ignorance makes them fancy that long nails are an ornament to their hands, as if those excrescences they neglect to cut were nails, and not the talons of a lizard-catching kestrel—a filthy and unnatural abuse.
"Go not ungirt and loose, Sancho; for disordered attire is a sign of an unstable mind, unless indeed the slovenliness and slackness is to be set down to craft, as was the common opinion in the case of Julius Caesar.
"Ascertain cautiously what thy office may be worth; and if it will allow thee to give liveries to thy servants, give them respectable and serviceable, rather than showy and gay ones, and divide them between thy servants and the poor; that is to say, if thou canst clothe six pages, clothe three and three poor men, and thus thou wilt have pages for heaven and pages for earth; the vainglorious never think of this new mode of giving liveries.
"Eat not garlic nor onions, lest they find out thy boorish origin by the smell; walk slowly and speak deliberately, but not in such a way as to make it seem thou art listening to thyself, for all affectation is bad.
"Dine sparingly and sup more sparingly still; for the health of the whole body is forged in the workshop of the stomach.
"Be temperate in drinking, bearing in mind that wine in excess keeps neither secrets nor promises.
"Take care, Sancho, not to chew on both sides, and not to eruct in anybody's presence."
"Be moderate in thy sleep; for he who does not rise early does not get the benefit of the day; and remember, Sancho, diligence is the mother of good fortune, and indolence, its opposite, never yet attained the object of an honest ambition.

Remarkably wise for a man seen as a foolish lunatic… Perhaps we should remember the knight-errant more often when we lose sight of our ideals and principles and also recall that had he been as sane and sensible all along as the day he died, there would have been nothing to read about. The sublime and the ridiculous often touch at their extremes and it’s only a matter of perspective to acknowledge being in presence of one or the other. When in doubt, err on the side of the sublime!

Costi wrote:Remarkably wise for a man seen as a foolish lunatic… Perhaps we should remember the knight-errant more often when we lose sight of our ideals and principles and also recall that had he been as sane and sensible all along as the day he died, there would have been nothing to read about. The sublime and the ridiculous often touch at their extremes and it’s only a matter of perspective to aknowledge being in presence of one or the other. Whe in doubt, err on the side of the sublime!

Often a genius has been considered af fool. Still, our friend from La Mancha was a fool, but he was honest, and he didn't have the slightest fear of being honest. Isn't that the point? "From children and drunks will you hear the truth," an old proverb of ours say.

Gruto, how do you think amor fati applies here? Did he love his fate, that pedestrian "reality" which those around him condemned him to? His noble acts and thoughts arised from defying such "reality" and proving people that WE make reality what it is. Most scorned him and in the end managed to bring him down (significantly, he is trampled by a herd of pigs), but remember the scene of the formerly reluctant Dulcinea (Loren) and Don Quijote ill in bed (O'Toole), as she strugless, tears in her eyes, to bring back to his memory the "foolish" ideals that had been the object of derision.
In the end it is "reality" that kills him, and he only really lived while he was at war with it.
In theatre, the part of the king is not played by the actor who acts as the king, but by the subjects, who bow before and obey him. If you saw a crowned man with a sceptre on the stage mocked and scorned by those around him, you would think he is the Fool and not the King. I think this is what happens to Don Quijote, but he is a king of the spirit, while people respect authority and power.

Costi wrote:Gruto, how do you think amor fati applies here? Did he love his fate, that pedestrian "reality" which those around him condemned him to? His noble acts and thoughts arised from defying such "reality" and proving people that WE make reality what it is ...
In the end it is "reality" that kills him, and he only really lived while he was at war with it.

Costi, I don't see amor fati as a way of giving in to realities. In fact, it should be a way to defy reality. You embrace to overcome what is already there. Our man from La Mancha was locked beacuse he declared war on reality, or better, fled reality.

Which brings up the legitimate question: "What is reality?" Without going as far as saying life is a dream and dreams are reality, let's start from a proustian idea according to which reality is a mix of memories from the past and impressions of the present. Creating a new reality relies on substituting some of the past that we carry with us into the present every moment (and which has a great influence on the way we perceive the present) with an equal amount of vision, of projection into the future or ideal (which may be unreal - yet!).
Nietzsche condemns idealism as a mere diversion from necessity. Everything is good because it is necessary. That's not far from the optimism of Leibniz (all is for the best in the best of possible worlds etc.). Voltaire makes good fun of Professor Pangloss and cures Candide of his fatalism - I prefer his metaphorical gardening as an attitude which, at its own scale, creates an alternative reality.
I think the "best" reality to live in is a mix of past, present and future, a reality that allows change to take place and where Man can be an agent of change, rather than a passive subject to what Necessity prescribes. I admire Don Quijote's elan and I believe THAT is the true essence of humanity - hope, ideal - rather than pity him as a poor fool who could not cope with "reality". This is why I was saying that the sublime and the ridiculous are always in balance on the cutting edge of a knife.