APPENDIX, D.
ON THE BUSCAPIÉ.
(See Vol. II. pp. 105, etc.)
A good deal has been said within the last seventy years, and especially of late, (1847-49,) about a pamphlet entitled “El Buscapié,”—“The Squib,” or “Search-foot,”—supposed by some persons to have been written by Cervantes, soon after the publication of the First Part of his Don Quixote. The subject, though not one of great consequence, is certainly not without interest, and the facts in relation to it are, I believe, as follows.
In the Life of Cervantes, by Vicente de los Rios, prefixed to the magnificent edition of the Don Quixote published by the Spanish Academy in 1780, (see, ante, Vol. II. p. 52,) it is stated, that, on the appearance of the First Part of that romance, in 1605, the public having, according to a tradition not, I think, earlier recorded, received it with coldness or censure, the author himself published an anonymous pamphlet, called “The Squib,” in which he gave a pleasant critique on his Don Quixote, insinuating that it was a covert satire on sundry well-known and important personages, without, however, in the slightest degree intimating who those personages were; in consequence of which, the public curiosity became much excited, and the Don Quixote obtained such attention as it needed in order to insure its success. (Tom. I. p. xvii.)
In a note appended (p. cxci.) to this statement of the tradition, we have a letter of Don Antonio Ruydiaz,—a person of whom little or nothing is now known, except that Don Vicente declares him to have been a man of learning worthy of credit,—in which letter, under date of December 16, 1775, Don Antonio asserts, that, about sixteen years earlier, he had seen a copy of the Buscapié at the house of the Count of Salceda, and had read it;—that it was a small anonymous volume, printed at Madrid with a good type and on poor paper;—that it pretended to be written by a person who had neglected to buy or read the Don Quixote for some time after its first appearance, but who, having at last bought and read it, had been filled with admiration at its merits and resolved in consequence to make them known;—that this Buscapié declared the characters in the Don Quixote to be, in the main, imaginary, but yet insinuated that they had certain relations to the designs and gallantries of the Emperor Charles the Fifth, and of some of the principal personages in his government;—and that the Count de Salceda being dead, and the copy of the Buscapié in question having been only lent to that nobleman by some person unknown to the writer of the letter, he could give no further account of the matter.
This statement, differing, it will be noted, from the tradition recorded in the text to which it is appended, in what relates to the Emperor Charles the Fifth, was not, on the whole, deemed satisfactory. Pellicer, besides other strong doubts, doubted whether Cervantes wrote the pamphlet, even if all the rest related of it were true, (Don Quixote, ed. 1797, Tom. I. p. xcvii.,) and Navarrete inclined to the opinion, that there was some mistake about the whole affair, and that Cervantes could never have intended to allude to the Emperor in the way intimated (Vida de Cervantes, 1819, § 105, etc.); to which Clemencin has since added the suggestion, that the copy of the Buscapié, alleged to have been seen by Ruydiaz, might have been a forgery cunningly imposed on the Count of Salceda, who was “rich and greedy”—rico y goloso—in such matters (ed. D. Quixote, Tom. IV., 1835, p. 50). Indeed, the intimations concerning Charles the Fifth were so absurd in themselves, and the fact,—unknown when the Academy published their edition of 1780,—that four editions of the First Part of Don Quixote were, within a year from the date of its appearance, demanded in order to satisfy the impatient curiosity of the public, is so decisive of its popular success from the outset, that men were, before long, disposed to believe that there never was a Buscapié written by any body. After a time, therefore, the discussion about it ceased, except among those who were interested in the smallest details of the life of Cervantes.
But in 1847 the whole subject came up afresh. Don Adolfo de Castro, a young Andalusian gentleman, much devoted to researches in early Spanish literature, and the author of several curious historical works, which give proof of his success, declared that he had accidentally found a copy of the Buscapié. In 1848 he published it at Cadiz, in a duodecimo volume, with a body of very learned notes,—the text, in large type, making forty-six pages, and the notes one hundred and eighty-eight pages, which, if printed with the same type, would make above two hundred and fifty.
In the Preface, Don Adolfo declares, that the Buscapié he thus publishes was printed from a manuscript which he had obtained from the library of Don Pascual de Gándara, a lawyer of the city of San Fernando, which library, apparently after the death of its owner, had been brought, less than three months before, to the city of Cadiz, the residence of Don Adolfo, to be publicly sold;—that the title of the manuscript, which purports throughout to be the work of Cervantes, is “The very pleasant little Book, called the Squib, in which, besides its much and excellent Learning, are explained all the hidden and unexplained Matters in the Ingenious Knight, Don Quixote de la Mancha, written by a certain Cervantes de Saavedra”;—that the manuscript in question is not in the handwriting of Cervantes, but, as appears by a memorandum following the title, is a copy made at Madrid, February 27, 1606, for Agostin de Molina, son of Argote de Molina, and that it had subsequently come into the possession of the Duke of Lafões, of the royal family of Braganza;—that it contains no allusion whatever disrespectful to the Emperor Charles the Fifth, for whom, as Don Adolfo believes, Cervantes had a sincere admiration;—that it was, according to the Aprobacion of Gutierre de Cetina, June 27, 1605, and that of Thomas Gracian Dantisco, on the 6th of August following, prepared for the press, but that it was not in fact printed, or it would not have been needful to make a copy of it in manuscript the next year;—and that the true and real object of the Squib was, not to attract attention to the Don Quixote, but to defend that work against many persons accounted learned, who, as Don Adolfo suggests, had attacked it with some severity.
In the Buscapié, which immediately follows these statements, Cervantes represents himself as riding on his mule one day upon the road to Toledo, a little beyond the Puente Toledana, when he sees coming towards him a Bachelor mounted on a sorry hack, that at last falls with him to the ground, in the midst of a contest between the beast and his rider, as to whether they shall go on or no. Cervantes courteously helps the stranger to rise; and then, after a few introductory words, they agree to spend together, under some neighbouring trees, the heat of the day, then fast coming upon them. The Bachelor, a foolish, conceited little fellow, with a very deformed person, produces two books for their common entertainment. The first of them is “The Spiritual Verses of Pedro de Ezinas,” which they both praise, and of whose author Cervantes speaks as of a personal acquaintance. The other is the Don Quixote, which the Bachelor treats very slightingly, and which Cervantes, a little disturbed by such contempt, maintains, in general terms, to be a book of merit, not hinting, however, to the Bachelor that he is its author, and putting his defence on the ground, that it is a well-intended attempt to drive the institution of chivalry from the world.
But the vain, garrulous little Bachelor prefers to talk about himself or to tell stories about his father, and is with difficulty brought back to the Don Quixote, which he then assails as a book absurdly recognizing the existence of knight-errantry at the time it was published, and therefore at the very time when they are talking about it,—a position which Cervantes fully admits and then defends, alleging, in proof of its truth, the examples of Suero de Quiñones and Charles the Fifth; while, on the other side, the Bachelor sets forth, how glad he should be if it were really so, because he would then turn knight himself, and come by a princess and a kingdom as other knights had done before him;—all in a strain as crazy as that of the hero of Cervantes, and sometimes much resembling it. Cervantes replies, maintaining the real, actual existence of knight-errantry in his own time by the examples of Olivier de Lamarche and others, which are as little to the purpose as those of Quiñones and the Emperor Charles the Fifth, already cited by him; and so the discussion goes on, until a scene occurs between the hack of the Bachelor and the mule of Cervantes, not unlike that between Rozinante and the horse-flesh of the Galician carriers, in the fifteenth chapter of the First Part of Don Quixote, and one that ends with the total overthrow and demolition of the Bachelor’s beast. This breaks up the conversation between their two riders, and brings the pamphlet to a conclusion,—Cervantes leaving the unlucky Bachelor to get out of his troubles as best he may.
On closing this gay little trifle, we are at once struck with the circumstance, that the Buscapié we have just read, avowing itself on every page to be the work of Cervantes, and declared never to have been printed till the year 1848, can have nothing at all to do with the anonymous Buscapié of which a printed copy is supposed to have been seen about the year 1759;—in fact, that it involves a formal and complete contradiction of every thing of consequence that was ever said or supposed on the subject, before it appeared. This simplifies the matter very much. It is as if a Buscapié had never before been mentioned, and we are therefore to examine the one now published by Don Adolfo de Castro as if the statement of Los Rios and the letter of Ruydiaz had never appeared.
The next thing that occurs to us is the strangeness of the circumstance, that the copy of such a work, not anonymous, but professing to have been written by the greatest and most popular genius of his nation, should, during two centuries and a half, have attracted nobody’s notice; though, during that time, it must have travelled from Madrid to Lisbon and from Lisbon back again to Spain, and though, during the last seventy years, a Buscapié has been much talked about and eagerly asked for.
Nor is the history of the individual manuscript now printed and offered to us, so far as it professes to have a history, more satisfactory. It claims to have been owned by three persons, and a word must be said about each of them.
First, it is said to have been “copied from another copy in the year 1606, at Madrid, on the 27th of February of the said year, for Señor Agustin de Argote, son of the very noble Señor (may he be in holy glory!) Gonzalo Zatieco de Molina, a knight of Seville.”[459] Now, that Argote Zatieco de Molina, a person I have often had occasion to mention, (see, ante, Vol. I. pp. 74, 75, 77, 117, etc.,) was, as this certificate sets forth, dead in 1606, I have no doubt. A manuscript copy of his well-known hints for the history of Seville, now in the possession of one of my friends, contains notices and documents relating to his life, collected, apparently, by the early copyist, from which we learn that Argote de Molina, by a deed dated July 5, 1597, left to his daughter, two sisters, and a brother the patronage of a chaplaincy he had founded in a chapel prepared by him for his burial-place in the church of Santiago, at Seville;[460] and that in 1600 this chapel was completed, and an inscription placed in it, signifying that it was the burial-place of Argote de Molina, late a chief of the Hermandad, and a Veintequatro, or Regidor, of Seville;[461] from all which, as well as from other grounds, it appears that Argote de Molina died between 1597 and 1600. But why is no son of his mentioned in the deed of 1597, providing for the care of his chapel and the protection of his family burial-place after his own death? This is explained by Ortiz de Zuñiga, the very best authority on such a point, who, when giving an account of Argote de Molina and his manuscripts, some of which Zuñiga had then in his possession, says that Argote de Molina had sons, but that they died before him, and that their loss so embittered the latter part of his life, that his reason was impaired by it.[462] What, then, are we to say about this “Agustin,” for whom Don Adolfo’s copy of the Buscapié is certified to have been made in 1606, after the death of his father, Argote, who died without leaving any son?
The second trace of this manuscript is, that it professes to have been a part of the library of the Duke of Lafões; the inscription to this effect being in Portuguese, and without a date.[463] But is it likely that such a manuscript could have remained in such a position unnoticed? Is it likely that João de Braganza, one of the most cultivated and distinguished men of his time, who was born in 1719, and died in 1806; who was the friend of the Prince de Ligne, of Maria Theresa, and of Frederic the Great; who founded the Academy of Lisbon, and was its head till his death; in whose family lived Correa de Serra, and who every evening collected the chief men of letters of his country in his saloon,—is it likely that a work avowedly by Cervantes, and one concerning which, after 1780, the Spanish Academy had caused much inquiry to be made, should have remained in the library of such a man without attracting, during his long life, either his own notice or that of the scholars by whom he was surrounded? Or, finally, as to the third and last presumed possessor of this manuscript of the Buscapié, is it likely that it would have wandered on without being recognized by any body until it found its obscure way into the collection of an Andalusian advocate,—Don Pascual de Gándara,—and that even he, in the nineteenth century, when Navarrete and Clemencin were keeping alive the discussion of the eighteenth about it, should yet know nothing of its import or pretensions, or, knowing them, should withhold his knowledge from all the world?
Thus much for the external evidence, the whole of which, I believe, I have examined. It is, as it seems to me, very suspicious and unsatisfactory.
Nor can the internal evidence be accounted more satisfactory than the external.
In the first place, the Buscapié in question is a closer imitation of Cervantes than he would be likely to make of himself. It opens like the Prólogo to the “Persiles and Sigismunda,” in which the conversation that Cervantes says he held with a travelling medical student seems to have been the model for the one he is represented as holding with the travelling Bachelor in the Buscapié;—it then goes on with an examination of one or two contemporary authors, and allusions to others, in the manner of the scrutiny of Don Quixote’s library;—and it ends with an acknowledged parallel to the story of the Yanguese carriers and their beasts; different parts of the whole reminding us of different works of Cervantes, but of the “Adjunta al Parnaso” oftener than of any other. In many cases, phrases seem to be borrowed directly from Cervantes. Thus, of an author praised in the Buscapié, it is said, “Se atreve á competir con los mas famosos de Italia,” (p. 20,) which is nearly the phrase applied to Rufo, Ercilla, and Virues in the Don Quixote. In another place, (p. 22,) Cervantes is made to say of himself, when speaking in the third person of the author of Don Quixote, “Su autor esta mas cargado de desdichas que de años,” which strongly resembles the more beautiful phrase he, in the same way, applies to himself, as the author of the “Galatea”; and in another place, (p. 10,) the little Bachelor’s shouts to his mule are said to be as much wasted “as if they were tossed into the well of Airon, or the pit of Cabra,”—an allusion much more appropriately made by Cervantes in the “Adjunta al Parnaso,” where mothers are advised to threaten their naughty children, that “the poet shall come and toss them, together with his bad verses, into the pit of Cabra, or the well of Airon,”—natural caves in the kingdoms of Granada and Córdova, about which strange stories were long credited. (Semanario Pintoresco, 1839, p. 25; Diccionario de la Academia, 1726, in verb. Airon; Don Quixote, ed. Clemencin, Tom. IV. p. 237; and Miñano, Diccionario Geográfico.) But there is no need of citing parallel passages. The Buscapié is full of them; some being happily chosen and aptly adjusted to their new places, like three allusions to the words of Cervantes in Don Quixote about “driving books of chivalry out of the world,” (see, ante, Vol. II. p. 105, note,) and others, like those I have just cited, being awkwardly introduced, and fitting their subjects less well than they did those to which they were originally applied. But whether well or ill selected, whether well or ill applied, these phrases in the Buscapié have seldom or never the appearance of accidental coincidences arising out of the carelessness of an author repeating from himself. They seem rather to be words and forms of expression carefully selected, and are so used as to give an air of constraint to the passages where they occur, showing that the writer turns, as it were, in a narrow circle;—an air as unlike as possible to the bold and unfettered movement which is so eminently characteristic of Cervantes.
In the next place, the Buscapié contains many allusions to obscure authors and long-forgotten trifles; but, with an inconsiderable exception, which seems to be a little ostentatiously announced as such, (p. 12, and note B,) not one, I believe, occurs, that is beyond the reach of the singular learning of Don Adolfo, whose ample notes, fitting with suspicious exactness to the text, drive the reader to the conjecture, that the text may have been adjusted to the notes quite as much as the notes to the text. Now and then, this conjecture seems to be confirmed by a slight inaccuracy. Thus, in both text and notes, the name of Pedro de Enzinas—whose poetry is cited and examined just as I find it in my copy of the “Versos Espirituales,” printed at Cuenca, in 1596 (see, ante, Vol. III. [p. 13, note])—is uniformly spelt many times over Ezinas, that is, without the first n, (Buscapié, pp. 19-21, and note I,)—a trifling mistake, which a copyist might easily have made in 1606, or which Don Adolfo might have easily made in 1847, when transcribing, as he did, from the printed book before him, but a mistake which there is not one chance in a thousand that both should have made, if there were no other connection between the two than the one avowed. And, again, a little farther on, a mistake occurs which seems to have arisen from the very excess of Don Adolfo’s recondite learning. The old Castilian proverb, “Al buen callar llaman sage,”—or, “He is a wise man that knows when to hold his tongue,”—is found in the text of the Buscapié, (p. 26,) and Don Adolfo in the note on it (L) informs us, that, “in the same way in which this proverb is here used by Cervantes, it is to be seen in the Conde Lucanor,[464] and in other older works. Somebody corrupted it into ‘Al buen callar llaman Sancho.’” But the idea, that Cervantes adhered to an old form of the proverb, because he rejected or did not know the supposed corrupt one, is not well founded. The proverb occurs, in what Don Adolfo considers a corrupted form, as early as the “Cartas de Garay,” in 1553, and the collection of Proverbs by the learned Hernan Nuñez, in 1555, and in this very form it is, in fact, used by Cervantes himself (Don Quixote, Parte II. c. 43); for when Sancho Panza is rebuked by his master for stringing together proverbs without end, he first promises he will not utter another, and then instantly opens his mouth with this one. Indeed, I rather think that the word sage, which was in use as late as the time of Juan de Mena, had dropped out of the current language of good society before that of Cervantes. Nebrixa, before 1500, says it was then antiquated. (See Diccionario de la Academia, 1739.)
The last suggestion I have to make in relation to the genuineness of the Buscapié published by Don Adolfo de Castro is, that, though on its title-page it professes to explain “all the hidden and unexplained things” in the Don Quixote, it does not, in fact, even allude to one such; and though it professes to have been written by Cervantes in order to defend himself against certain learned adversaries, it does not cite any one of them, and only defends him in a light, jesting tone against the charge of the little Bachelor by admitting its truth, and then justifying it, on the ground that knight-errantry is still flourishing and vigorous in Spain,—a charge which no sensible or learned man can be supposed to have made, and a defence which is humorous, so far as it is so at all, only for its absurdity.
Other things might be mentioned, such as that Cervantes, in the Buscapié, is made to speak in a disparaging way of Alcalá de Henares, his native place, (pp. 13 and 41,) which, as we have seen, (ante, Vol. II. p. 53,) he delighted to honor; and that he is made to represent his imaginary Bachelor as talking about his own painful personal deformities, (pp. 24, 25, 28, 29,) and his father’s contemptible poltroonery, (pp. 27, 28, 34,) in a way inconsistent with the tact and knowledge of human nature which are among the strongest characteristics of the author of Don Quixote.
But I will go no farther. The little tract published by Don Adolfo de Castro is, with the exception of two or three coarse passages,[465] a pleasant, witty trifle. It shows in many parts much lively talent, a remarkable familiarity with the works of Cervantes, and a hardly less remarkable familiarity with the literature of the period when Cervantes lived. If Don Adolfo wrote it, he has probably always intended, in due time, to claim it as his own, and he may be assured that, by so doing, he will add something to his own literary laurels without taking any thing from those of Cervantes. If he did not write it, then he has, I think, been deceived in regard to the character of the manuscript, which he purchased under circumstances that made him believe it to be what it is not. In any event, I find no sufficient proof that it was written by Cervantes, and therefore no sufficient ground to think that it can be placed permanently under the protection of his great name.