Justin Chen
English 129—Section 3
Professor Alexander Welsh
3/4/00

Don Quixote Essay

The notions of courage and cowardice in Cervantes’ Don Quixote are not altogether simple to comprehend. The title character’s constant forays into gloriously illogical misadventures induce one to contemplate whether he truly exemplifies the spirit of daring chivalry embodied in his literary knight-errant counterparts, or whether his actions can more appropriately be classified as the products of lunacy. By extension, the difficulty in characterizing Don Quixote’s actions makes it equally difficult to decide whether Sancho can truly be called a coward. Sancho’s attempts to distance himself from his master’s more questionable exploits could, after all, be the mark of a prudent individual rather than that of a cowardly and distressed squire. By the end of the novel, Sancho in fact proves that he is not a coward at all, and that he is willing to continue to fight for those noble causes formerly held in such high esteem by his master.

The issue of courage in Don Quixote is a complex one because our hero always seems to be pushing the line that divides bravery from mere foolishness. For example, Don Quixote insists on combat with a lion even though the lions’ keeper warns him that “they are now very hungry, for they’ve eaten nothing today; so it would be best for your worship to stand aside” (640) . Although Quixote professes that he wishes to demonstrate “whether [he is] the man to be frightened by lions,” the courageousness of his actions is questionable at best. Sancho states of Don Quixote, “He’s not crazy…but foolhardy” (640). Yet Don Quixote himself defines “valor” as “a virtue that is situated between the two vicious extremes, which are cowardice and rashness” (646). He furthermore states that “it is far better for the brave man to mount to the height of rashness than to sink into the depths of cowardice…it is easier for the daring than for the cowardly to become truly valiant” (646-7). Don Quixote also argues that the phrase “‘this knight is rash and foolhardy’ sounds better in the hearer’s ears than ‘such a knight is timid and cowardly’” (647). Thus, Don Quixote equates courage with an impetuous desire for action, whereas he considers timidity, or what some might call thoughtful prudence, a sign of cowardice.

Based on Don Quixote’s definitions, Sancho is a coward. It would be difficult to argue that the simple-minded squire ever errs on the side of rashness, for he is clearly more concerned with obtaining his island and leading a comfortable retirement than winning great fame through his exploits. In fact, Don Quixote himself states, “You, Sancho, are naturally a coward” (219) when Sancho suggests that the two of them beat a hasty retreat from the scene of Don Quixote’s unfortunate freeing of the galley slaves. Yet throughout the course of the novel, Sancho exhibits behavior that cannot merely be written off as cowardice. In other words, Sancho’s behavior, though not rash, also cannot be termed cowardly.

The first description of Sancho is of “a neighbor of [Don Quixote’s] and an honest fellow… but with very little wit in his pate” (95). This description, though somewhat unflattering, nevertheless establishes Sancho’s essential honesty. As seen in throughout the novel, Sancho is seldom one to hide his own feelings. In several instances he tells Don Quixote that a particular adventure is foolish or stupid, and it is only when he knows that such honesty is useless that he schemes behind his master’s back. For example, during the adventure of the fulling mills, Sancho uses every tactic available to him to implore Don Quixote not to leave him, despite the latter’s desire to search out the terrible noise that has gripped both their hearts in fear. The narrator comments that Sancho, “seeing that his master’s mind was made up and that his tears, entreaties, and prayers were of no avail, determined to use his wits and see if he could, by hook or by crook, make him wait until daybreak” (188), at which point he ties Rozinante to his own steed to prevent Don Quixote from sallying forth. Sancho’s honesty is also displayed by his admission, “As for myself, I’ll never fail to complain at the smallest twinge, unless this business of not complaining applies also to squires” (100). Thus, it is apparent that Sancho is a character who, as far as his own welfare is concerned, is firmly and honestly rooted in reality.

Sancho’s honesty is in fact part of what makes him a courageous character. Although he, by his own admission, does not seek out conflicts, he is willing to say what he believes in. This quality is inherent in both the concepts of honor and courage because honesty in one’s dealings requires a certain amount of personal bravery, especially when the person to whom one is being honest is not receptive to reality, as is the case with Don Quixote.

It could be argued that much of Sancho’s honesty serves only to reveal his deeper cowardice. For instance, he states, “I am by nature a quiet, peaceable man with ne’er a wish to thrust myself into noisy brawls” (101). This self-description implies a pacifistic nature that is inappropriate for a man roaming the country in search of wrongs that need to be set right. Yet Sancho later reveals that willingness to fight is not his primary concern when he states, “I, Master Sanson, don’t expect to win the fame of a fighting man, but only that of the best and most loyal squire that ever served knight-errant” (555). This telling remark, which also happens to once more demonstrate Sancho’s honesty, also serves to illustrate his simple desires. To Sancho, courage does not consist of valor in battle, but rather faithfulness in duty and dedication to one’s master.

Even more striking is Sancho’s statement, “I will on no account clap hand to my sword either against peasant or knight. And from this time on, I pardon, in the name of God, whatever insults have been or shall be offered against me, whether by high or low, rich or poor, noble or commoner, without any exception whatsoever” (148). This declaration, though perhaps understandable given his poor state of affairs following the fight with the Yanguesans over Rozinante’s lustful indiscretions, is still an indication of cowardice, at least in the traditional sense. After all, some might argue, personal reputation is the identification of an individual within society and should be defended at all costs, and furthermore, the willingness to sacrifice one’s own good name is the mark of a true coward. Sancho, however, proves that his philosophy is not as cowardly as some might believe when he states, “Nevertheless, when it comes to defending my own person, I’m not one to pay much attention to such laws, for those laid down by God and man allow everyone to defend himself against any who would do him wrong” (101). Thus, Sancho demonstrates that he is willing to resist his own pacifistic nature when an issue comes to physical violence against his person, reminiscent once again of his decision to “never fail to complain at the smallest twinge.” He is willing to act courageously when something that he is interested in is at stake—a more cowardly person with a similarly pacifistic nature would, upon being physically attacked, most likely run away rather than respond in kind. The fact that Sancho’s motive is mostly selfish does not make him any more of a coward than if he had possessed moral objections to the use of violence.

It is true that Sancho entertains thoughts of leaving his master in multiple instances throughout the course of the novel. After being vomited upon by Don Quixote, who had recently imbibed of his own “healing” balsam with detrimental effects to his constitution, Sancho “cursed himself again and vowed in his heart to leave his master and return to his home, although he would lose his wages for service and his hopes of becoming governor of the promised island” (175). However, such examples do not make Sancho a coward. Despite his various threats and thoughts of leaving, Sancho not only never abandons his master, but he also vows to remain with him during the most urgent episodes of their journeys. During the adventure of the fulling mills, the narrator notes that “Sancho began to weep again at the pitiful words of his master, and he determined not to leave him until the completion of this adventure” (194). Furthermore, “the author of this history concludes that [Sancho] must have been of good stock” because of his “tears and his honorable resolutions” (194). Thus, Sancho’s bravery is manifested during a crisis situation in which he himself was “nestled up against [Don Quixote’s] left thigh, not daring to stir from him the breadth of a finger, so frightened was he” (189).

An important aspect of Sancho’s character that must be understood in order to judge his actions is his desire for material wealth. The first mention of Sancho’s cupidity occurs when the two adventurers come upon the locked portmanteau that belonged to Cardenio. As the narrator describes it, “Sancho ransacked the portmanteau

     without leaving a corner in it or in the saddle cushion
     that he did not scrutinize; nor was there a seam he did
     not rip, nor a flock of wool he did not pick. Such was
     the covetousness that the golden treasure of a hundred
     crowns had aroused in him! And though he found no
     more, he considered himself over and above rewarded
     for the blanketing, the vomiting of the balsam, the
     benedictions of the staves, the buffets of the carrier, the
     loss of the saddlebags, the theft of his cloak, not to
     mention the hunger, thirst, and fatigue he had endured
     in his good master’s service” (224).

Sancho’s behavior here, though not noble, is somewhat understandable given his financial situation at home. Indeed, Don Quixote lures Sancho into the venture by saying that “some time or another [Sancho] might meet with an adventure that would earn for him…some island, and he would find himself governor of it” (96). Thus, Sancho’s motives for accompanying Don Quixote are not completely pure.

Even in matters of religion, Sancho’s simple-mindedness makes his motives all the more transparent. For instance, when conversing with the curate, Sancho says ingenuously, “What I intend to do is to pray to Our Lord to land [Don Quixote] in places where he’ll do the best for himself and reward me as well” (260). In the end, therefore, Sancho is mostly out for his own benefit. Once again, however, it is important to acknowledge that the fact that he is driven by money rather than fame does not make him a coward. Just as he declares his unwillingness to get involved in any physical skirmishes, Sancho is also very clear about his desire for an island and for riches. If he had not been clear about these issues, Don Quixote would not have only bequeathed to Sancho money and the waiving of “accounts and reckonings” (1047) in his will at the close of the novel. Sancho’s material desires separate him from his more idealistic knight-errant master, but they certainly do not make him a coward.

In addition to all these arguments against the description of Sancho as a craven individual, there are several instances in the book in which he acts quite courageously and valiantly. For instance, in the fight with the barber whose basin has been mistaken for Mambrino’s Helmet, Don Quixote is “very glad to see how well his squire defended himself and attacked the enemy, and from that time on, he took him to be a man of courage and resolved to have him dubbed knight at the first opportunity offered, for he though that the order of knighthood would be well bestowed on him” (454). Although Don Quixote is most likely incorrect in assessing Sancho as knight-worthy, it is still notable that he sees Sancho as a “man of courage” whereas he had previously called him a coward. Another mention of Sancho’s courage is in the sonnet about him at the end of Part I, which states, “Here’s tubby Sancho Panza, who is small,/ But yet—strange miracle—his valor’s great” (517). Perhaps the most compelling demonstration of Sancho’s courage, which also ties in to his honesty, is his disagreement with Don Quixote over the credibility of his tale of the Cave of Montesinos. After Sancho accuses Don Quixote of “blabbing the greatest balderdash that ever was known,” Don Quixote replies, “I know you, Sancho…so, I pay no heed to your words.” Sancho, however, counters, “No more I to yours…even though you beat me or kill me for those I’ve spoken or mean to speak if you don’t correct and mend your own” (693). Sancho’s defiances of his master are among his most courageous acts in the novel. This particular instance is especially revealing because it ties into the definition of courage. If honor and courage are related to the willingness to sacrifice one’s life for one’s beliefs, then Sancho’s proclamation certainly qualifies him as a courageous individual.

Although courage and cowardice are nebulous terms in the context of this whimsical novel, Sancho Panza possesses many qualities that prevent the reader from labeling him a coward. Sancho is not as rash as Don Quixote, nor even as willing to engage in battles in the name of righteousness, yet his cautious behavior is consistent with his own character and does not necessarily connote cowardice. Indeed, despite his continuous thoughts of abandoning knight-errantry and adventure altogether, when Don Quixote denounces books of chivalry, it is Sancho who cries, “Up with you this instant, out of your bed, and let us put on our shepherd’s clothing and off with us to the fields as we had resolved a while back” (1047). Thus, Sancho’s courage once again manifests itself in a time of crisis, although in this case his efforts are in vain, for it is Don Quixote himself who has lost courage and abandoned the cause.