The Idealism of Sancho Panza

Abstract

To the most casual student of Spanish literature, Don Quixote is the epitome of idealism, and Sancho Panza, his realistic antithesis. A student who is slightly more careful can see that Cervantes does far more than personify these two opposites in his great novel. It has become almost standard procedure for literary historians to picture the two, journeying through life together, with the idealism of the one and the realism of the other interacting to such a degree that they exchange places and Don Quixote becomes completely realistic at the end, while Sancho has become hopelessly infected with the virus of chivalric adventure. Such an interchange of character traits would not have been possible had not the seeds of realism been deeply rooted in Don Quixote and those of idealism firmly centered in Sancho's basic nature. An examination of Sancho's idealism can be made from two sources since Sancho is a product of two natures: the Spanish peasantry and the mind of Cervantes. Let us begin with the former in our quest for the well-springs of Sancho's nature. The land of Spain was an excellent place to look for a Sancho. It was a timeless place where neither the land nor its inhabitants was changed greatly by the passing of the centuries. The lack of travel and of books kept a restraining hand upon imagination, not stifling it certainly, but withholding the raw materials which imagination transforms into progress. The dependence upon providential Nature made the Castilian somewhat fatalistic in his religion and philosophy. He accepted adversity with stoic resignation but held hope and faith in a God who could and did set aside natural laws for the special benefit of his children. The idea of changing one's lot by his own effort and daring did not occur to the peasant when he was left largely to his own thoughts. The vision of stepping rapidly over class boundaries seemed unreal and even filled with danger. Teresa Panza argued with Sancho in that manner (Part ii ch. 4) though she was quickly moved to almost childish delight when the duchess's page brought word that Sancho's governorship was a fait accompli (ch. 50). From this ageless peasantry, then, came Sancho, a man who worked long hours with little active use for his mind. His daydreams, which must have been frequent, were likely to be of some earthly paradise where drudgery was unknown and the stomach was always full. Sancho shared with Lazarillo a constant preoccupation with hunger. Probably he had known hunger often and had, as one of his greatest joys in life, the occasional saturation of his stomach. A little wine helped also. Not the strong drink with which the unhappy man tried to forget the cause of his misery. It was rather the gentle action that made one accustomed to monotony find his existence pleasantly satisfying, the mild stimulant that encouraged dreams and vicarious living in a world of the imagination. Sancho and the members of his class were intelligent. When they used their imagination and their intelligence together, the result was the multitude of proverbs that have made them seem so practical to us. Often the imagination took precedence over the intellect and so, the Spaniard seldom put these proverbs together to form a systematic philosophy of life. Sometimes, Sancho used proverbs quite cunningly; at other times, they were utter nonsense. Left