On the *quixotic* — and the *Quijote* ==== Is *quixotic* positive or negative, you ask. An easy enough question to ask, aye. But to answer? To answer is something else. For it is . . . ***complicated***. That’s because a tale as rich as *El ingenioso hidalgo don Quijote de la Mancha* cannot be potted into a single sentence, nor sentiment. It does not admit a simple yes or no answer. If you take only one of them, you break it. You must accept them both. But the novel itself does admit an inescapable interpretation, one that this posting will in the fullness of time provide before its end. I would first take issue with the senses provided by the current online Merriam-Webster dictionary. Earlier versions were better. Although [Dr Johnson’s dictionary of 1755 did not include *quixotic*](http://johnsonsdictionaryonline.com/?page_id=50&whichLetter=Q), by just three-quarters of a century later [Noah Webster’s 1828 dictionary](http://1828.mshaffer.com/d/search/word,quixotic) did so, providing this simple, honest definition that is as true today as it was centuries ago: > a. Like Don Quixote; romantic to extravagance. Fast forward almost a century to [*Webster’s Revised Unabridged Dictionary* of 1913](http://machaut.uchicago.edu/?resource=Webster%27s&word=quixotic&use1913=on) and we find the entry expanded to the following: > a. Like Don Quixote; romantic to extravagance; absurdly chivalric; apt to be deluded. Feats of quixotic gallantry." *Prescott*. A half-century following that edition came the monumental [*Webster’s Third New International Dictionary of the English Language, Unabridged* of 1961](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Webster's_Dictionary#Webster.27s_Third_New_International_Dictionary_.281961.29), a groundbreaking ‘masterwork of scholarship’ in lexicography never before seen in North America — nor since: the current M-W holds no candle to it. In the W3 we find the entry for *quixotic* given as: > **quix·ot·ic** `\(ˈ)kwik¦säd·|ik, ‑ät|, |ēk\` *also* **quix·ot·i·cal** `\ə̇kəl, |ēl\` **:** *adj* [*quixote* + *‑ic* or *‑ical*] idealistic and utterly impractical, *esp* **:** marked by rash lofty romantic ideas or chivalrous action doomed to fail 〈～ as a restoration of medieval knighthood ―M.R.Cohen〉 **syn** see ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴀʀʏ <sub>(Sorry about all that gibberish pseudo-pronunciation that nobody can understand and which makes no sense anyway; that’s what the book has.)</sub> Beyond that entry, other related entries in *Webster’s Third* include *quix·ote, quix·ot·i·cal·ly, quix·o·tism, quix·o·tize,* and *quix·o·try*. I do not know that the *W3* much improves on the previous editions’ versions; though more complete, it may overreachingly water down the actual meaning of the word, not recognizing that the original sense was still extant. Let us therefore turn to an historical dictionary instead, the one that has no peer. The OED defines *quixotic* as: > **quixotic** <code>/kwɪkˈsɒtɪk/</code>, *a.* (*sb.*) > ---- <p>Etymology: f. **Quixote** *sb.* > **1.** Of persons: Resembling Don Quixote; hence, striving with lofty enthusiasm for visionary ideals. <p><ul> <li>**1815 J. Adams** *Wks.* (1856) X. 157, ― I considered Miranda as a vagrant, a vagabond, a Quixotic adventurer. <li>**1857 Hughes** *Tom Brown* i. i, ― This family training··makes them eminently quixotic. <li>**1896** *Spectator* 7 Mar. 336 ― Any one can exceed, but few can be really Quixotic.</small></ul> <p>**2.** Of actions, undertakings, etc.: Characteristic of, appropriate to, Don Quixote. <p><ul><small> <li>**1851 Gallenga** *Italy* 131 ― A daring that would seem almost quixotic. <li>**1874 Green** *Short Hist.* x. 719 ― A quixotic mission to the Indians of Georgia. <li>**1876 Emerson** *Ess. Ser.* ii. vii. 175 ― All public ends look vague and quixotic beside private ones.</small></ul> <p>**b.** *pl.* as *sb.* Quixotic sentiments. <p><ul><small> <li>**1896** *Spectator* 7 Mar. 337 ― If··our Quixotics seem foolish or extravagant.</small></ul> <p>Hence **quiˈxotical** *a.*; **quiˈxotically** *adv.*; **quiˈxoticism** = **quixotism**. <p><ul><small> <li>**1850** *Fraser’s Mag.* XLII. 482 ― No Quixotical redresser of wrong. <li>**1862** *Sat. Rev.* XIII. 660/2 ― A mathematician who··Quixotically endeavoured to cure him. <li>**1882** *Athenæum* 23 Sept. 410/1 ― The symbol of his noble quixoticism.</ul> <p> And, since *quixotic* is necessarily defined in terms of *Quixote*, the OED defines *Quixote* as: > Quixote <code>/ˈkwɪksət/</code>, *sb.* > ---- <p>Also **7** **-ot**, **8** **-iot**, **9** **-otte**. <p>Etymology: The name of the hero of Cervantes’ romance (see **Don** *sb.*<sup>**1**</sup> <sup>**c**</sup>), = Sp. *quixote*, now written *quijote* <code>/kiˈxote/</code> a cuisse.<p> An enthusiastic visionary person like Don Quixote, inspired by lofty and chivalrous but false or unrealizable ideals. <p><ul><small> <li>**1648** *Merc. Prag.* No. 1. A ij, ― The Romance’s and Gazetta’s of the famous Victories and Exploits of the godly Quixots. <li>**A. 1658 Cleveland** *Gen. Poems*, etc. (1677) 112 ― Thus the Quixots of this Age fight with the Windmils of their own heads. <li>**1786–7 Bonnycastle** *Astron.* i. 17 ― There are Quixotes and pedants in every profession. <li>**1811 Jefferson** *Writ.* (1830) IV. 164 ― What these Quixottes are clamoring for. <li>**1896** *Spectator* 7 Mar. 337/1 ― Where the more sober thinker fails, the Quixote is often of service.</small></ul> <p><ul><small>*Comb.* <li>**1800 Mrs. Hervey** *Mourtray Fam.* IV. 41 ― Quixote‐like, going to fight when he had no occasion.</small></ul> <p>**b.** *attrib.* passing into *adj.* = **quixotic**. <p><ul><small> <li>**1708 Ozell** tr. *Boileau’s Lutrin* iv. (1730) 209 ― A weak Defence for Quixiot kings. <li>**1757 Lady M. W. Montagu** *Let. to C’tess Bute* 7 July, ― The Quixote reputation of redressing wrongs. <li>**1782 H. Walpole** *Lett. to M. Cole* 14 Feb. (1846) VI. 160 ― My diet-drink is not all of so Quixote a disposition. <li>**1810 Bentham** *Packing* (1821) 198 ― Our Quixote Sheriff.</small></ul> <p>Hence **ˈQuixote** *v. intr.* (also with *it*), to act like a Quixote. <p><ul><small> <li>**1702 Vanbrugh** *False Friend* v. i, ― When you··are upon your rantipole adventures, you shall Quixot it by your self for Lopez. <li>**1803 Jane Porter** *Thaddeus* (1826) I. vi. 131, ― I will not be the first to tell him of our quixoting.</small></ul> So there you have it. It means resembling the titular Don himself, and **all that that entails**. It means all those things, but most importantly it means resembling “an enthusiastic visionary person like Don Quixote, inspired by lofty and chivalrous but false or unrealizable ideals.” That’s a lot of denotation — far more than a simple thumbs-up or thumbs-down is ever going to be enough to characterize. If you are just soliciting opinion, then this is not a good format for doing that. It would just devolve into a list question full of anecdotal connotations, which could not be substantiated, ranked, nor selected as a single correct answer. *On pronunciation* --- No doubt thanks to the award-wining 1965 musical, *Man of La Mancha* and its unforgettable songs, the noun use of that word, *Quixote*, is now most apt to be given in the Spanish pronunciation in today’s America, so `/kiˈxote/` as the OED provides, albeit in monoglots with the alien `/x/` converted to a native `/h/`. The Anglicized pronunciation of *Quixote* would therefore be `[kʰiˈhoʊɾɪ]`, and that is how it is most often heard in America today. (The runner-up is *Donkey Hody*. :) --- What’s a *cuisse*? --- The OED finishes its etymology of *Quixote* saying that in Spanish it is “now written *quitote* a cuisse”. But what’s a *cuisse* and how does have anything to do with the Don? Some of you might know *cuisse* as ‘thigh’ in French, but that is not what it means here. Rather, it is the piece of armor that protects the thigh. The OED gives this entry for the term: > cuisse, cuish <code>/kwɪs/</code>, <code>/kwɪʃ/</code>. > --- > Forms: *pl.* **4** **quysseaux**, **‑ewes**, **5** **cusseis**, **cussues**, **qwysshewes**, **5–7** **cushies**, **7** **cushes**, **6–9** **cuisses**, **8–9** **cuishes**; *sing.* **5** **cusshewe**, **cusché**, **7** **cush**, **9** **cuish**. <p>Etymology: In 14th c. *quyssewes*, *cuissues*, a. OFr. *cuisseaux*, *cuisiaux*, pl. of *cuissel* = Ital. *cosciale*, L. *coxāle*, f. L. *coxa* hip, Ital. *coscia*, Fr. *cuisse* thigh. In Eng. the *‑ewes*, *‑ues* of the plural being reduced to *‑ies*, and at length to *‑es*, the latter has been confounded with the plural ending in *fish-es*, etc., and a singular *cuish*, *cuisse* formed. The etymological sing. would be *quissel*, or *quissew*. <p>*pl.* Armour for protecting the front part of the thighs; in *sing.* a thigh-piece. The reason this is interesting is that the modern Spanish word *quijote* `/kiˈxote/`, which in Old (and older) Spanish was *quixote* `/kiˈʃote/`, really does mean a thigh-piece of armor. If you trace it back far enough, the English and the Spanish come from the same place. Castilian — by which I mean Spanish — borrowed the word from Catalan, where it was *cuixot*, pronounced `/kʷiˈʃote/`. This comes from the Latin *coxa* meaning hip. So [Spanish *quijote*](http://lema.rae.es/drae/?val=quijote) and English *cuisse* came from the same place, albeit via different routing (ours came via Norman French). ---- It all comes down to that *ingenioso hidalgo*, the Don himself ---- The Spanish noun *quijote*, taken from the Don, is [per the RAE](http://lema.rae.es/drae/?val=quijote) an > Hombre que antepone sus ideales a su conveniencia y obra desinteresada y comprometidamente en defensa de causas que considera justas, sin conseguirlo. Loosely translated, he’s a man who places his ideals in front of his own convenience, selflessly committing himself in defence of causes which he considers just but without managing to achieve them. The Spanish adjective corresponding to English *quixotic* is *quijotesco*, and that is the word with the sense that for me *quixotic* carries in English: it’s about being like don Quijote, just like Noah Webster told us nearly two centuries ago. And it still means that. It’s about taking up a just cause for the sake of noble ideals without regard to personal hardship, adversity, or even practicality or likelihood of success. It’s about trying to do what’s right even when you know you can never prevail. Is that a positive thing or a negative thing? That’s a very personal decision, but I for one consider it in the most positive of all possible lights, howsoever doomed it may be. Nothing great was ever achieved by aiming low. Some battles are worth fighting for, fighting for with all our heart and mind and soul and body, even all the while knowing that in the end we must ultimately fall in that battle, that we must in the end inescapably fail forever. After all, isn’t that what *life itself* is? --- The lyricist for the musical stunningly captured all of this when he famously wrote: > *The Impossible Dream* > === > *To dream the impossible dream, To fight the unbeatable foe, To bear with unbearable sorrow, To run where the brave dare not go. <br><br> To right the unrightable wrong, To love pure and chaste from afar, To try when your arms are too weary, To reach the unreachable star. <br><br> This is my quest, to follow that star: No matter how hopeless, no matter how far. To be willing to give when there's no more to give, To be willing to die so that honor and justice may live. <br><br> And I know if I’ll only be true to this glorious quest That my heart will lie peaceful and calm when I’m laid to my rest. <br><br> And the world will be better for this: That one man scorned and covered with scars, Still strove with his last ounce of courage To reach the unreachable star.* That song, you will note, ends on a very high note, musically reminding us of ***ad astra per aspera***. Now **you** tell **me**: does that sound positive or negative? There is only one possible answer that allows life to continue, and that must surely be that it **must** be positive. Otherwise we should all just give up right now and die, since we know how our story ends. And we mustn’t do that. **Life itself is *quixotic:*** we cannot prevail in the end. In the end, all hopes must fail, and fall we surely shall. But that does **not** mean we should not **try**! Indeed, it is knowing that we must ultimately fail that gives us fools the most reason to rush in where angels fear to tred: to try all the harder, to run all the farther, to aim all the higher — ***that the world might be better for this.***