Don Quixote – Cervantes (3)

PicassoDonQuixoteSancho

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Jack reads selected passages
from his favorite books

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Unscripted. Unrehearsed. Unedited. 


TODAY’S READING – 

The History and Adventures of
the renowned Don Quixote
,
Miguel de Cervantes,
London, Folio Society, 1995
(Part 3 of 3) 

 

Play
 

In the words of the German philosopher F. W. J. von Schelling, Don Quixote is “the most universal, the most profound and the most picturesque portrait of life itself.”


THE EXCERPT:

In the midst of this their conversation, they discovered thirty or forty windmills all together on the plain, which the knight no sooner perceived, then he said to his squire, “Chance has conducted our affairs even better than we could either wish or hope for; look there, friend Sancho, and behold thirty or forty outrageous giants, with whom I intend to engage in battle, and put every soul of them to death, so that we may begin to enrich ourselves with their spoils; for it is a meritorious warfare, and serviceable both to God and man, to extirpate such a wicked race from the face of the earth.”

“What giants do you mean?” said Sancho Panza in amaze.

“Those you see yonder,” replied his master, “with vast extended arms; some of which are two leagues long.”

“I would your worship would take notice,” replied Sancho, “that those you see yonder are no giants, but windmills; and what seem arms to you, are sails; which being turned with the wind, make the mill-stone work.”

“It seems very plain,” said the knight, “that you are but a novice in adventures: these I affirm to be giants; and if thou art afraid, get out of the reach of danger, and put up thy prayers for me, while I join with them in fierce and unequal combat.”

So saying, he put spurs to his steed Rozinante, without paying the least regard to the cries of his squire Sancho, who assured him, that those he was going to attack were no giants, but innocent windmills: but he was so much possessed with the opinion that they were giants, that he neither heard the advice of his squire Sancho, nor would use the intelligence of his own eyes, though he was very near them: on the contrary, when he approached them, he called aloud, “Fly not, ye base and cowardly miscreants, for he is but a single knight who now attacks you.” At that instant, a breeze of wind springing up, the great sails began to turn; which being perceived by Don Quixote, “Tho’ you wield,” said he, “more arms than ever belonged to the giant Briareus, I will make you pay for your insolence.”

So saying, and heartily recommending himself to his lady Dulcinea, whom he implored to succor him in this emergency, bracing on his target, and setting his lance in the rest, he put his Rozinante to full speed, and assaulting the nearest windmill, thrust it into one of the sails, which was drove about by the wind with so much fury, that the lance was shivered to pieces, and both knight and steed whirled aloft, and overthrown in very bad plight upon the plain.

Sancho Panza produce fast as his mount could carry him to his assistance, and when he came up, found him unable to stir, by reason of the bruises which he and Rozinante had received. “Lord have mercy upon us!” Said the squire, “Did not I tell your worship to consider well what you were about? Did not I’m sure you, they were no other than windmills? Indeed nobody could mistake them for anything else, but one who has windmills in his own head!”

Prithee, hold thy peace, friend Sancho,” replied Don Quixote; “the affairs of war are, more than anything, subject to change. How much more so, as I believe, nay, am certain, that the sage Freston, who stole my closet and books, has converted those giants into mills, in order to rob me of the honor of their overthrow; such is the enmity he bears me; but, in the end, all his treacherous arts will but little avail against the vigor of my sword.”

“God’s will be done!” replied Sancho Panza, who helped him to rise, and mount Rozinante that was almost disjointed.

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Don Quixote – Cervantes (2)

Man of La Mancha CD cover

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Jack reads selected passages
from his favorite books

Unscripted. Unrehearsed. Unedited.

TODAY’S READING –

The History and Adventures of the
Renowned Don Quixote

Miguel de Cervantes, 
London, Folio Society, 1995
(Part 2 of 3) 

Play

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Of the enchantment of Dulcinea I refuse to speak. All readers of Don Quixote must discover this final miracle for themselves.  (From the Introduction, Folio Society Limited Edition)

THE EXCERPT:

“How was that queen of beauty employed when you arrived?” said Don Quixote. “I daresay, you found her stringing pearls, or embroidering some device for this her captive knight, with threads of gold.”

“No, truly,” answered the squire, “I found her winnowing two bushels of wheat in the yard.”

“Then you may depend upon it,” resumed the knight, “the grains of that wheat were converted into pearls by the touch of her hand. And didst thou observe, my friend, whether it was of the finer or common sort?”

“Why neither,” said Sancho, “it seems to be as it were red wheat.”

“But since it was winnowed by her fair hands,” answered Don Quixote, “I dare affirm, it will make the whitest bread in Spain. Go on with thy information. When the letter was delivered did she not kiss it, and place it on the crown of her head, in token of respect? Did she not perform some ceremony worthy of the sender? Pray how did she receive it?”

“When I presented the letter,” answered Sancho, “she was in a main hurry, winnowing a large heap of wheat that was in her sieve; and said to me, ‘Friend, lay down the letter on that sack; for I can’t pretend to read it, until I have made an end of my work.’”

“Discrete lady!” cried the knight. “Her intention certainly was to read it at her leisure, that she might recreate herself with the contents. Proceed, Sancho, and while she was thus employed, what conversation passed between you? What questions did she ask concerning me? And what answers didst thou make? Recount the whole, without leaving one syllable untold.”

“She asked me no question,” replied the squire, “but I told her, how I had left your worship doing penance for loving of her, skipping among those rocks, naked from the waist upwards, like a mere savage, sleeping on the bare ground; neglecting to eat your food like a Christian, or to comb your beard like a decent man, and whining, and weeping, and cursing your fortune.”

“If you said I cursed my fortune, you misrepresented me,” said Don Quixote, “for I bless my fate and will bless it all the days of my life, for having made me worthy to aspire to the love of such an high lady as Dulcinea del Toboso.”

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Don Quixote – Cervantes (1)

Don Quixote Cover

x
Jack reads selected passages 

from his favorite books

Unscripted. Unrehearsed. Unedited.

TODAY’S READING – 

The History and Adventures of the Renowned Don Quixote,
Miguel de Cervantes,
London, Folio Society, 1995
(Part 1 of 3)

Play
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Don Quixote offers something unique in literature: the sight of an author teaching himself to write the first modern novel. As we read, a book is born and grows up before our eyes and eventually becomes so universal, so funny, so sad, so wise, that we wish it would never end. (From the Introduction to my Folio Society Limited Edition)

THE EXCERPT: 
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In a certain corner of La Mancha, the name of which I do not choose to remember, there lately lived one of those country gentleman, who adorn their halls with the rusty lance and worm-eaten target, and ride forth on the skeleton of a horse. . . .

Be it known, therefore, that this sad honest gentleman at his leisure hours, which engrossed the greatest part of the year, addicted himself to the reading of books of chivalry, which he perused with such rapture and application, that he had not only forgot the pleasure of the chase, but also utterly neglected the management of his estate: nay to such a pass did his curiosity and madness, in this particular, drive him, that he sold many good acres of Terra Firma, to purchase books of knight-errantry, with which he furnished his library to the utmost of his power; but none of them pleased him so much, as those that were written by the famous Feliciano de Silva, whom he admired as the pearl of all authors, for the brilliancy of his prose, and the beautiful perplexity of his expression. How was he transported, when he read those amorous complaints, and doughty challenges, that so often occur in his works.

“The reason of the unreasonable usage my reason has met with, so unreasons my reason, that I have reason to complain of your beauty;” and how did he enjoy the following flower of composition! “The high heaven of your divinity, which with stars divinely fortifies your beauty, and renders you meritorious of that merit, which by your highness is merited!”

The poor gentleman lost his senses, in poring over, and attempting to discover the meaning of these and other such rhapsodies, which Aristotle himself would not be able to unravel, were he to rise from the dead for that purpose only.

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LISTEN to episode 3 in this series

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The Christian Imagination

 

Christian ImaginationJack reads selected passages 

from his favorite books

Unscripted. Unrehearsed. Unedited.

TODAY’S READING – 

The Christian Imagination
“Authors, Authority, and the Humble Reader”
Peter J. Leithart, 2002. 

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Madeleine L’Engle on the reader: The reader, viewer, listener, usually grossly underestimates his importance. If a reader cannot create a book along with the writer, the book will never come to life. Creative involvement: that’s the basic difference between reading a book and watching TV.  (from Walking on Water)

THE EXCERPT: 

Works of fiction present a world to us. In some sorts of fiction, like fantasy or science fiction, the world of the novel is a world quite completely different from the world of our experience. In many cases, of course, the world presented is much like our own world. Paris and London were really cities in the late 18th century, the Bastille really did fall, severed heads really were mounted on pikes and paraded through the streets of Paris — these are not figments of Dickens’s imagination. But even the novel that strives for historical accuracy invites us to enter a world different from our own. Danton and Robespierre really existed, but Lucy Manette and Sidney Carton did not, and the world of A Tale of Two Cities is different from ours precisely because it is a world peopled by the likes of Sidney Carton and Lucy Manette.

No matter what the difference between the real and fictional worlds, reading intelligently requires a humble acceptance of the world of the novel. It is a poor reader, and a proud one, who throws aside A Tale of Two Cities with the sneering complaint that “It’s unrealistic. Sidney Carton never went to the guillotine.” A “suspension of disbelief” is elementary in reading fiction, but it is rarely recognized as an act of humility. In part, that is due to the dour connotations that “humility” has in contemporary usage, but here those connotations are completely out of place. As G. K. Chesterton said, humility makes a small, and that means that everything around us becomes large and astounding and magnificent. Humility before the world that the author presents means that we allow him to set the rules, but it also gives reading an element of play. Across the centuries, Dickens says to us, “I’ll pretend Jerry Cruncher was real if you will.” By opening the book and beginning to read, we are saying, “Let me play too.” To read well, we must become as little children.

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Adventures of Tom Bombadil – Tolkien

Tolkien Reader cover

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Jack reads selected passages 
from his favorite books 

Unscripted. Unrehearsed. Unedited.

x

TODAY’S READING – 

The Tolkien Reader
“The Adventures of Tom Bombadil”
 

J.R.R. Tolkien, 1966. 

 

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While many are familiar with Tolkien’s involvement with the literary group The Inklings, it wasn’t the only literary group of which he was a member. Tolkien himself started the Coalbiters (meaning those who lounge so close to the fire in winter that they ‘bite the coal’), to persuade his friends that Icelandic literature was worth reading in the original language. The influence of the rhyme scheme of Icelandic mythology is evident in today’s reading.

There was a merry passenger,
A messenger, a mariner;
He built a gilded gondola
To wander in, and had in her
A load of yellow oranges
And porridge for his provender;
He perfumed her with marjoram
And cardamom and lavender.

He called the winds of argosies
With cargoes in to carry him
Across the rivers seventeen
And lay between to tarry him,
He landed all in loneliness
Where stonily the pebbles on
The running river Derrilyn
Goes merrily for ever on.
He journeyed then through meadow-lands
To Shadow-land that dreary lay,
And under hill and over hill
Went roving still a weary way.

He sat and sang a melody,
His errantry a-tarrying;
He begged a pretty butterfly
That fluttered by to marry him.
She scorned him and she scoffed at him,
She laughed at him unpitying;
So long he studied wizardry
And sigaldry and smithying.

He wove a tissue airy-thin
To snare her in; to follow her
He made him beetle-leather wing
And feather wing of swallow-hair
He caught her in bewilderment
With filament of spider-thread;
He made her soft pavilions
Of lilies, and a bridal bed
Of flowers and of thistle-down
To nestle down and rest her in;
And silken webs of filmy white
And silver light he dressed her in.

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