{"id":4380,"date":"2005-01-04T20:49:16","date_gmt":"2005-01-04T20:49:16","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/localhost:8000\/\/?p=4380"},"modified":"2005-01-04T20:49:16","modified_gmt":"2005-01-04T20:49:16","slug":"don-quixote","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/peter.murmann.me\/?p=4380","title":{"rendered":"Don Quixote"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><div class=\"content-image-wrapper\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.amazon.com\/exec\/obidos\/tg\/detail\/-\/0060188707\/qid=1104900762\/sr=1-1\/ref=sr_1_1\/102-7062478-2070501?v=glance&#038;s=books\" class=\"content-image-link\"><img decoding=\"async\" width=\"100\" height=\"150\" src=\"https:\/\/peter.murmann.me\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/01\/don_quixote-100x150.gif\" class=\"content-image-block\" alt=\"image\" style=\"max-width: 100%; height: auto; display: block; margin: 15px auto;\" \/><\/a><\/div>\n<p>One of the most compelling moments in <a href=\"http:\/\/www.imdb.com\/title\/tt0061735\/\">Guess Who&#8217;s Coming to Dinner<\/a> occurs when a son points out to his father that they have fundamentally assymetrical duties toward one another. Three days ago I started to read <i> Don Quixote<\/i>. It is hard to put the book down. I just came across a wonderful passage that reminded me of the aforementioned scene in <i>Guess Who&#8217;s Coming to Dinner<\/i>.&nbsp; Here the concern is the assymetrical relationship between the lover and beloved.&nbsp; Read for yourself.<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;That is true,&#8221; said Vivaldo; and as he was about to read another<\/p>\n<p>paper of those he had preserved from the fire, he was stopped by a<\/p>\n<p>marvellous vision (for such it seemed) that unexpectedly presented<\/p>\n<p>itself to their eyes; for on the summit of the rock where they were<\/p>\n<p>digging the grave there appeared the shepherdess Marcela, so beautiful<\/p>\n<p>that her beauty exceeded its reputation. Those who had never till then<\/p>\n<p>beheld her gazed upon her in wonder and silence, and those who were<\/p>\n<p>accustomed to see her were not less amazed than those who had never<\/p>\n<p>seen her before. But the instant Ambrosio saw her he addressed her,<\/p>\n<p>with manifest indignation:<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Art thou come, by chance, cruel basilisk of these mountains, to see<\/p>\n<p>if in thy presence blood will flow from the wounds of this wretched<\/p>\n<p>being thy cruelty has robbed of life; or is it to exult over the cruel<\/p>\n<p>work of thy humours that thou art come; or like another pitiless<\/p>\n<p>Nero to look down from that height upon the ruin of his Rome in<\/p>\n<p>embers; or in thy arrogance to trample on this ill-fated corpse, as<\/p>\n<p>the ungrateful daughter trampled on her father Tarquin&#8217;s? Tell us<\/p>\n<p>quickly for what thou art come, or what it is thou wouldst have,<\/p>\n<p>for, as I know the thoughts of Chrysostom never failed to obey thee in<\/p>\n<p>life, I will make all these who call themselves his friends obey thee,<\/p>\n<p>though he be dead.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;I come not, Ambrosia for any of the purposes thou hast named,&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>replied Marcela, &#8220;but to defend myself and to prove how unreasonable<\/p>\n<p>are all those who blame me for their sorrow and for Chrysostom&#8217;s<\/p>\n<p>death; and therefore I ask all of you that are here to give me your<\/p>\n<p>attention, for will not take much time or many words to bring the<\/p>\n<p>truth home to persons of sense. Heaven has made me, so you say,<\/p>\n<p>beautiful, and so much so that in spite of yourselves my beauty<\/p>\n<p>leads you to love me; and for the love you show me you say, and even<\/p>\n<p>urge, that I am bound to love you. By that natural understanding which<\/p>\n<p>God has given me I know that everything beautiful attracts love, but I<\/p>\n<p>cannot see how, by reason of being loved, that which is loved for<\/p>\n<p>its beauty is bound to love that which loves it; besides, it may<\/p>\n<p>happen that the lover of that which is beautiful may be ugly, and<\/p>\n<p>ugliness being detestable, it is very absurd to say, &#8220;I love thee<\/p>\n<p>because thou art beautiful, thou must love me though I be ugly.&#8221; But<\/p>\n<p>supposing the beauty equal on both sides, it does not follow that<\/p>\n<p>the inclinations must be therefore alike, for it is not every beauty<\/p>\n<p>that excites love, some but pleasing the eye without winning the<\/p>\n<p>affection; and if every sort of beauty excited love and won the heart,<\/p>\n<p>the will would wander vaguely to and fro unable to make choice of any;<\/p>\n<p>for as there is an infinity of beautiful objects there must be an<\/p>\n<p>infinity of inclinations, and true love, I have heard it said, is<\/p>\n<p>indivisible, and must be voluntary and not compelled. If this be so,<\/p>\n<p>as I believe it to be, why do you desire me to bend my will by<\/p>\n<p>force, for no other reason but that you say you love me? Nay- tell me-<\/p>\n<p>had Heaven made me ugly, as it has made me beautiful, could I with<\/p>\n<p>justice complain of you for not loving me? Moreover, you must remember<\/p>\n<p>that the beauty I possess was no choice of mine, for, be it what it<\/p>\n<p>may, Heaven of its bounty gave it me without my asking or choosing it;<\/p>\n<p>and as the viper, though it kills with it, does not deserve to be<\/p>\n<p>blamed for the poison it carries, as it is a gift of nature, neither<\/p>\n<p>do I deserve reproach for being beautiful; for beauty in a modest<\/p>\n<p>woman is like fire at a distance or a sharp sword; the one does not<\/p>\n<p>burn, the other does not cut, those who do not come too near. Honour<\/p>\n<p>and virtue are the ornaments of the mind, without which the body,<\/p>\n<p>though it be so, has no right to pass for beautiful; but if modesty is<\/p>\n<p>one of the virtues that specially lend a grace and charm to mind and<\/p>\n<p>body, why should she who is loved for her beauty part with it to<\/p>\n<p>gratify one who for his pleasure alone strives with all his might<\/p>\n<p>and energy to rob her of it? I was born free, and that I might live in<\/p>\n<p>freedom I chose the solitude of the fields; in the trees of the<\/p>\n<p>mountains I find society, the clear waters of the brooks are my<\/p>\n<p>mirrors, and to the trees and waters I make known my thoughts and<\/p>\n<p>charms. I am a fire afar off, a sword laid aside. Those whom I have<\/p>\n<p>inspired with love by letting them see me, I have by words undeceived,<\/p>\n<p>and if their longings live on hope- and I have given none to<\/p>\n<p>Chrysostom or to any other- it cannot justly be said that the death of<\/p>\n<p>any is my doing, for it was rather his own obstinacy than my cruelty<\/p>\n<p>that killed him; and if it be made a charge against me that his wishes<\/p>\n<p>were honourable, and that therefore I was bound to yield to them, I<\/p>\n<p>answer that when on this very spot where now his grave is made he<\/p>\n<p>declared to me his purity of purpose, I told him that mine was to live<\/p>\n<p>in perpetual solitude, and that the earth alone should enjoy the<\/p>\n<p>fruits of my retirement and the spoils of my beauty; and if, after<\/p>\n<p>this open avowal, he chose to persist against hope and steer against<\/p>\n<p>the wind, what wonder is it that he should sink in the depths of his<\/p>\n<p>infatuation? If I had encouraged him, I should be false; if I had<\/p>\n<p>gratified him, I should have acted against my own better resolution<\/p>\n<p>and purpose. He was persistent in spite of warning, he despaired<\/p>\n<p>without being hated. Bethink you now if it be reasonable that his<\/p>\n<p>suffering should be laid to my charge. Let him who has been deceived<\/p>\n<p>complain, let him give way to despair whose encouraged hopes have<\/p>\n<p>proved vain, let him flatter himself whom I shall entice, let him<\/p>\n<p>boast whom I shall receive; but let not him call me cruel or<\/p>\n<p>homicide to whom I make no promise, upon whom I practise no deception,<\/p>\n<p>whom I neither entice nor receive. It has not been so far the will<\/p>\n<p>of Heaven that I should love by fate, and to expect me to love by<\/p>\n<p>choice is idle. Let this general declaration serve for each of my<\/p>\n<p>suitors on his own account, and let it be understood from this time<\/p>\n<p>forth that if anyone dies for me it is not of jealousy or misery he<\/p>\n<p>dies, for she who loves no one can give no cause for jealousy to<\/p>\n<p>any, and candour is not to be confounded with scorn. Let him who calls<\/p>\n<p>me wild beast and basilisk, leave me alone as something noxious and<\/p>\n<p>evil; let him who calls me ungrateful, withhold his service; who calls<\/p>\n<p>me wayward, seek not my acquaintance; who calls me cruel, pursue me<\/p>\n<p>not; for this wild beast, this basilisk, this ungrateful, cruel,<\/p>\n<p>wayward being has no kind of desire to seek, serve, know, or follow<\/p>\n<p>them. If Chrysostom&#8217;s impatience and violent passion killed him, why<\/p>\n<p>should my modest behaviour and circumspection be blamed? If I preserve<\/p>\n<p>my purity in the society of the trees, why should he who would have me<\/p>\n<p>preserve it among men, seek to rob me of it? I have, as you know,<\/p>\n<p>wealth of my own, and I covet not that of others; my taste is for<\/p>\n<p>freedom, and I have no relish for constraint; I neither love nor<\/p>\n<p>hate anyone; I do not deceive this one or court that, or trifle with<\/p>\n<p>one or play with another. The modest converse of the shepherd girls of<\/p>\n<p>these hamlets and the care of my goats are my recreations; my<\/p>\n<p>desires are bounded by these mountains, and if they ever wander<\/p>\n<p>hence it is to contemplate the beauty of the heavens, steps by which<\/p>\n<p>the soul travels to its primeval abode.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>With these words, and not waiting to hear a reply, she turned and<\/p>\n<p>passed into the thickest part of a wood that was hard by, leaving<\/p>\n<p>all who were there lost in admiration as much of her good sense as<\/p>\n<p>of her beauty. Some- those wounded by the irresistible shafts launched<\/p>\n<p>by her bright eyes- made as though they would follow her, heedless<\/p>\n<p>of the frank declaration they had heard; seeing which, and deeming<\/p>\n<p>this a fitting occasion for the exercise of his chivalry in aid of<\/p>\n<p>distressed damsels, Don Quixote, laying his hand on the hilt of his<\/p>\n<p>sword, exclaimed in a loud and distinct voice:<\/p>\n<p>&#8220;Let no one, whatever his rank or condition, dare to follow the<\/p>\n<p>beautiful Marcela, under pain of incurring my fierce indignation.<\/p>\n<p>She has shown by clear and satisfactory arguments that little or no<\/p>\n<p>fault is to be found with her for the death of Chrysostom, and also<\/p>\n<p>how far she is from yielding to the wishes of any of her lovers, for<\/p>\n<p>which reason, instead of being followed and persecuted, she should<\/p>\n<p>in justice be honoured and esteemed by all the good people of the<\/p>\n<p>world, for she shows that she is the only woman in it that holds to<\/p>\n<p>such a virtuous resolution.&#8221;<\/p>\n<p>From First Part, Chapter XIV,&nbsp; <a href=\"http:\/\/www.online-literature.com\/cervantes\/don_quixote\/\">Internet Version<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>One of the most compelling moments in Guess Who&#8217;s Coming to Dinner occurs when a son points out to his father that they have fundamentally <a href=\"https:\/\/peter.murmann.me\/?p=4380\" class=\"read-more-link\">[Read More]<\/a> <img decoding=\"async\" src=\"http:\/\/localhost:8000\/\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/01\/don_quixote.gif\" alt=\"image\" width=\"100\" height=\"152\" \/><\/p>","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4380","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-diary"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/peter.murmann.me\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4380","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/peter.murmann.me\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/peter.murmann.me\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/peter.murmann.me\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/peter.murmann.me\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=4380"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/peter.murmann.me\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4380\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/peter.murmann.me\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4380"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/peter.murmann.me\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4380"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/peter.murmann.me\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4380"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}