Reviewing Angel Guerra through Footnotes, Part 4

I seem to be reviewing the translation of Angel Guerra through footnotes, and the strange thing is I'm completely fine with that. Previous entries include

• Benito Pérez Galdós and his mother
• Hitting the jackpot on cross-references in Galdós novels
• More fun with footnotes in Angel Guerra, naturally

I've said very little about the story so far, so let's correct that. The story begins in Madrid on September 19, 1886, with a revolt similar to the real-life uprising led by General Villacampa. Angel Guerra, a widower who has been a plotter of the revolt, finds himself wounded after the mob he is in kills an army officer. Needing to keep a low profile he stays at the apartment he has provided for his mistress, Dulcenombre Babel. Angel comes from a prosperous and well-respected family so he has no intention of marrying Dulce since the Babel clan is full of low-lifes and mysterious characters. In addition, Dulce had been a prostitute to help the family make ends meet. Angel's is away from his home for over a month while his wounds heal, but he eventually hears about the ill health of his mother (Doña Sales). The prodigal son returns home in an attempt to appear remorseful, but after an argument with his mother the old lady dies. Angel finds he no longer cares about his former revolutionary slogans, instead preferring to spend time with his seven-year-old daughter Ción. Both Ción and her governess, Lerè, exert a calming/taming influence on Angel. But Ción falls ill and fails to respond to treatment. Her illness becomes serious and Angel realizes he may lose his daughter. In frustration he turns to prayer, his stream of thoughts developing a new line of argument to support his request.

The footnote on page 164 provides what I want to focus on for the rest of this post:

The line of argument [in Angel’s thought] which follows—trading Dulce for Ción—finds an echo in other Galdós novels, most especially in Torquemada in the Fire (1889), where the miser and money-lender Torquemada offers a large pearl (part of the booty from one of his extortionate loans) to the Virgin in exchange for the life of his son Valentín. It doesn’t work, of course, any more than does Angel’s proposal, but in both instances it serves to point out the character’s inability to come to terms with the real meaning of faith.

Angel's deal is far worse than you're led to believe just from the note. He doesn't just offer to quit seeing his mistress, who has been sick, if Ción survives. Angel offers an exchange of Dulce’s life for Ción’s recovery. Angel even begins to fear that his recently-deceased mother has requested that Ción join her in heaven. Angel's line of argument jumps the tracks many times with his fevered "reasoning." As mentioned in the footnote, Ción dies. Immediately after her death Angel becomes quite the changed man…but more on that later.


I have mentioned The Pérez Galdós Editions Project many times since it is a great resource on the author and his works. The Fourth Annual Pérez Galdós Lecture, Gifts in the Work of Galdós by Professor Rodolfo Cardona, covers both works mentioned in the above footnote. Section III addresses Torquemada's pleading and bargaining for the life of Valentín in (as my copy translated the title) Torquemada at the Stake. (The footnotes of the lecture provide English translations of the quotes.) Section IV looks at Angel's case in more detail, looking at some of the similarities and differences between Torquemada's and Guerra's bargaining. Professor Cardona sums up one similarity nicely: "As much in the case of Torquemada as in Angel's their failed transactions with God are the key to their characters. In both cases materialism triumphs over transcendence."

Part of the irony of Guerra's materialism lies in the shift away from his youthful idealism of social revolution. Of course, with a name like Angel War it's safe to assume there will be plenty of irony and conflict from the character. In his case there doesn't necessarily have to be any irony—Angel's talk of revolution assume changes for everyone else. He believes his privileged life will continue on just as before. There's an additional thread of similarity between Torquemada and Guerra that isn't explicitly made in the lecture, which is female influences/judgments on both characters. Tía Roma, a ragpicker, lowliest of the low, sees through Torquemada's hypocrisy in his attempted good deeds. Her dedication to good works is reflected in the governess Lerè, who has dedicated her life to serving others. Lerè doesn't judge Angel, but she makes a piercing observation during his futile offers and proposals: she notes God will do what is best for everyone, not just Angel, and that an offer not meant from the bottom of his heart will fail. Both women provide a bracing wake-up call, unheeded, to the male bargainers. As Professor Cardona notes with Torquemada, his religious influence lies not with Tía Roma but with the defrocked priest José Bailón. Bailón had written a semi-revolutionary pamphlet and, as luck would have it, Torquemada was the only person who read it. Angel, though, was under the influence of Lerè (although more after the death of his daughter), but his inability to "conquer his earthly egotism" highlights his selfish behavior.

I do want to clarify one point in the lecture. Professor Cardona says that Doña Sales, Angel's mother, lectured him in the manner of Doña Perfecta…see the excerpt translated in footnote 30 of the lecture. The sarcastic tirade of Doña Sales is a generalized speech based on the severe lecturings Angel has received from her in the past. I'll provide the full translation of its first paragraph to give a more robust insight into how Doña Sales saw Angel. (I guess I better provide details on the book I'm reading: Pérez, Galdós Benito. A Translation of "Angel Guerra" by Benito Pérez Galdós. Lewiston (N.Y.: E. Mellen Press, 1990., translated by Karen O. Austin):

"But you, why should you pay any heed to a poor ignorant woman without a fancy university degree, who doesn't know how to read all those big books in French? Oh, well, but of course…you, destined to reform society and turn everything upside-down, to restore up what's fallen and tear down anything that's still standing, you're a big man, a regular fountain of all knowledge. It's true that up to now all you've done is act the fool, vomit out blasphemy after blasphemy for the benefit of others as stupid as yourself, get yourself teamed up with the worst black sheep of every family in town, and lure the corporals and sergeants into going out like thugs to kill their own commanding officers. You're really covering yourself with glory! We'll have to wear smoked glasses just to be able to look at you, we will, because the splendor of your halo of glory blinds us, and flames of genius shoot out of your head, like sparks form a magnificent forge where they're hammering out the whole future of humanity. Good Lord, I just don't deserve such a son." (81; ellipsis in original)

As Professor Cardona notes, even with the sarcasm this highlights how different Angel is from Torquemada. Doña Sales shows a similarity with Doña Perfecta, although the latter heaped on the irony and saved the sarcasm for herself or her closest confidants. The similarities and contrasts are a nice insight into Galdós' thoughts. Charged with an anti-clerical outlook while alive, it's clear (again) that he saves his harshest judgment for people following the faith for the wrong reasons. We'll see (together) if this develops more as the novel unfolds…

Torquemada

Torquemada by Benito Pérez Galdós
Translation by Frances M. López-Morillas
New York: Columbia University Press (1986), Hardcover
ISBN: 0231062281 / 9780231062282

The Torquemada novels:
1. Torquemada at the Stake (1889)
2. Torquemada on the Cross (1893)
     a. Story
     b. Themes
     c. Characters
3. Torquemada in Purgatory (1894)
     a: Part One
     b. Part Two
     c. Part Three
4. Torquemada and Saint Peter (1895)

Leading into Torquemada: references in Fortunata and Jacinta

I spent a lot of time on these novels because I was hoping they would provide an introduction to Galdós for anyone not familiar with his work.
Dr. Rhian Davies provides a helpful summary page of the Torquemada novels at The Pérez Galdós Editions Project.

As mentioned in an earlier post, Galdós gives a very sympathetic portrayal of a most unsympathetic character. Francisco Torquemada, also known as Torquemada the Worse (a comparison to the Inquisitor, his namesake), proves to be a wonderful literary creation. The irony that anyone named Torquemada would be tortured in the manner I’ve highlighted in previous posts provides much of the humor and pathos of the novels. In the posts on these novels I’ve looked at some of the themes, characters, and story lines, but with this post I want to step back and look at some of the issues Galdós raises and what he offers as solutions. It’s a tall order for a short post, but here goes...

In her summary Dr. Davies summarizes part of what I wanted to address:

The Torquemada novels are closely linked to the events and ideas of nineteenth-century Spanish society. They explore the evolution of society and the rise of the nouveaux riches and express the diversity of responses which such social mobility evoked, ranging from the hostility of the blind Rafael, who in his despair commits suicide, and Torquemada's constant unease to the openly predatory reactions of Cruz, who is prepared to do anything to retrieve her respectable social position. The novels also consider the significance of appearances, of social traits, and of what often turn out to be superficial social norms. It could even be argued that they are closely related to the phenomenon of regeneración in the Nineteenth Century. It is perhaps significant that Galdós should have chosen to name his protagonist after Tomás de Torquemada, for the Inquisition was often a theme of the regeneracionista treatises of the period. Some argued that the Inquisition had isolated Spain from her European counterparts and condemned the country to decadence. There are, indeed, many readings that can be applied to the novels: such is the universality of Galdós's novels, which, in lending themselves to multiple readings, constantly renew their appeal for readers of all backgrounds and all beliefs.

I’ll begin with a quote from the last novel in the series since it captures part of the “evolution” Dr. Davies describes. Galdós provides an aside when discussing the last duke of Gravelinas and why the mansion Torquemada bought was up for sale :

In the end that fine gentleman had to succumb to the law of the century, which means that the propertied wealth of the historically famous families is gradually passing into the hands of a secondary aristocracy whose patents of nobility are lost in the shadows of some shop, or the crannies of the moneylending business. (page 428)

Galdós doesn’t appear to have a problem with the nouveau riche in general or their “shadow”y past, rather his concern is with the traits or qualities he sees (or the lack of such) in many of them. Father Gamborena, introduced in the final novel confirms and augments many of the themes the author raised in the earlier novels.

Torquemada’s avarice overrules everything he tries to do. Good deeds are seen by the moneylender only as part of a business transaction—the most important question involves what will accrue to him if he performs the act. Despite the good traits portrayed by Cruz del Aguila, especially when the family was poor, the priest highlights her faults which reflect many of the failings of the nobility. Her determination to return to the upper classes leads her to push Torquemada well beyond the level needed to escape poverty. Her pride when pushing for more acquisitions and higher standing provides a never-ending source of friction between the two characters. The blending of the two groups has the potential to be monstrous if you focus only on the negative traits, as symbolized by the son of Francisco and Fidela, but Galdós presents other examples. Going into the background of Rafael’s friend Morentín, Galdós emphasizes his class mixture: “He was a bachelor, of lower-class extraction on his father’s side and aristocratic on his mother’s, hence a hybrid socially like almost all the present generation”. (see excerpt for pages 248-250 in the other posts) Morentín, the “professional adulterer” (the only activity to escape his indolence), is no less monstrous than the younger Valentín. His pride and snobbery are compounded by his affairs, which are supposedly victim-free (at least socially) until his attempt to seduce Fidela.

One theme I found humorous despite its implications was the burden of being rich. Torquemada always complains about what is expected of him trying to move up in social rank—as the expression goes he has to spend money to make money, especially in a Spain where cronyism reigns. And here is where Galdós excels—his ambiguity about the changes mentioned above shows he understands the pluses and minuses of the so-called progress. Two quick examples that highlight benefits from progress— Galdós notes that industrialization provides nicer and better products for a cheaper price, and Torquemada’s plan to convert the debt (unrealized) would lower the interest rate for everyone borrowing money, including the poor. In addition to a benefit there’s a price, and that’s exactly the point. Every transaction involves a trade-off…is it worth the cost? What is gained, what lost? The positive traits the nobility used to display have disappeared with their money, while the “secondary aristocracy” shows little interest in anything outside their own needs and wants.

If you read only the first novel in the series you may mistake it for an anti-capitalist screed. Father Gamborena emphasizes there is a role for the rich to play and the good they can do in society, highlighted by Cruz’s conversion and her acts in the last novel. To muddle things more, Galdós rarely romanticizes the poor (the Aguilas are a huge exception). There are many examples of Torquemada’s thoughts of the poor which are less than charitable. Galdós provides many examples contrary to these generalizations, yet Torquemada increased his wealth by being a good judge of human character. Or so we’re told. The priest doesn’t rebut Torquemada when the miser complains about leaving money for the poor, concerned that “sometimes everything you give them winds up in the taverns, and if you give them clothing it winds up in the pawnshops.” Galdós, through the priest, calls for an increase in concern for others and benevolent acts, such as true Christian charity (my words, not his). I think this is where the ambiguity comes in and why Galdós makes Torquemada a sympathetic character. As much as every character insulted Torquemada for the “blood money” he made from the poor, he was one of the few people in the city providing funds to them. For a price, of course, but when nothing else is available this is what happens. Galdós calls for alternatives, criticizing a religion that only goes through the motions for appearances.

A few quotes from Father Gamborena should help clarify what Galdós meant by true Christian charity and the damage because of its absence :

“And do not tell me that it is you who protect religion, strengthening worship with splendid ceremonies or organizing charitable brotherhoods and committees; in most cases, you merely surround Almighty God with official and worldly pomp, denying Him the homage of your own hearts. You want to make Him one of those constitutional monarchs we have nowadays, who reign but do not govern. … [E]xternal homage is not acceptable unless you accompany it with the surrender of your hearts and the submission of your intelligence.” (page 451)

“You, the upper and wealthy classes, bored, tired because you do not have a glorious role to play in present-day society, have lowered yourselves to politics, like the sick and sad nobleman who, not knowing what to do for amusement, lowers himself to joking with the servants. … It is true that you possess a nominal faith, but only as an emblem, as a mark of class to defend yourselves with in case your rights are attacked and your positions menaced.” (page 452)

“We must return to religious simplicity. … Human willpower is diminishing visibly, like a tree that is turning into a shrub, and from a shrub to a potted plant.” (page 453)

Is Christian charity enough to improve the situation? That’s part of the open-ended appeal or frustration with Galdós. There are no easy answers, which is why the Christian charity emphasis feels a little…underwhelming. Highly recommended—I hope to see others reading Galdós soon!

Torquemada and Saint Peter

Torquemada by Benito Pérez Galdós
Translation by Frances M. López-Morillas
New York: Columbia University Press (1986), Hardcover
ISBN: 0231062281 / 9780231062282

The Torquemada novels:
1. Torquemada at the Stake (1889)
2. Torquemada on the Cross (1893)
     a. Story
     b. Themes
     c. Characters
3. Torquemada in Purgatory (1894)
     a: Part One
     b. Part Two
     c. Part Three
4. Torquemada and Saint Peter (1895)


Galdós begins the last of the Torquemada novels with a description of the Palace of Gravelinas, the mansion Cruz was pushing Torquemada to buy at the end of Torquemada in Purgatory. While the narrator doesn’t immediately confirm the family lives there, the presence of the armor collection, library, and artworks Cruz had proposed obtaining leads the reader to believe the transaction happened. The focus on the armor and library provides the narrator a chance to delve into one of Galdós’ themes of appearance vs. reality—the splendid collections are really rotten or, in the case of the books, providing a mouse family a feast of royal letters.

This is my least favorite of the four Torquemada novels because, while good, it isn’t up to the same standard of the previous three books in the series. There are additions or changes, not necessarily inconsistencies, which have to be explained in detail to be believed. Much time is spent on the introduction of two characters, supposed close and long-term friends of the Aguila family, who have never been mentioned in the previous books. Augusta Orozco and Father Luis de Gamborena play important roles for the family in the novel but in spite of Galdós’ explanation of their prior absence in the series—Father Gamborena was overseas as a missionary and Augusta had been away due to some unspecified scandal—both characters have a “tacked on” feel to them. The narrator implies that Augusta and her scandal appeared in another Galdós novel, or maybe it’s an insincere reference to fictional annals. Torquemada’s son-in-law, earlier banished for calling his little brother-in-law a freak, proves to be a regular in the household now. Again, while not fatal to the story such changes as these make the novel feel strained in comparison to the previous ones.

Torquemada nicknames Father Gamborena “Saint Peter” since the priest reminds him (once removed) of the image of Saint Peter. Galdós paints the priest in glowing and flattering terms but he never loses his edge when describing something he doesn’t like. In introducing the reader to Father Gamborena, the narrator notes the priest “decided, after long thought, to leave for Paris and enlist in one of the missionary legions with which our cautious civilization attempts to tame the barbarous African and Asiatic hordes before unsheathing the sword against them.” (page 423) Even with this snide comment, Galdós believes things would be much better with true Christian charity, consistent with Father Gamborena’s message in attempting to convert Torquemada. Torquemada going up against Father Gamborena reminded me of his confrontation with Tía Roma in the first novel (Torquemada at the Stake), when the old ragpicker confronts the moneylender about his attempt to bribe God in order to save his son’s life. Old habits die hard—Torquemada views Father Gamborena’s message as a business transaction in which he wants a guarantee that he will be saved if he does as requested.

The moneylender expresses a longing for his old way of life, calling them “good times” despite the struggles it entailed.

I call the good times those times when I had less folderol than now, when I used to sweat gall and vinegar to earn money; the times when I lost my only son, well, not the only one; I mean… well… when I wasn’t acquainted with all this ridiculous pomp of nowdays, and when I haven’t had to grieve over so many vicissitudes. That was a terrible vicissitude when my boy died, but even so I had a quieter life, and was more in my element. I had sorrows there too, but I also had times when I was alone with myself, goodness, when I rested in an oasis… an oasis… oasis.” (page 415)

That wistful touch of repeating “oasis” highlights the magic Galdós achieves in these books—providing a very sympathetic look at a most unsympathetic character.

I found Galdós’ portrayal of the “new” Valentín, the son of Torquemada and Fidela, disturbing, as it was undoubtedly meant to be. He makes his appearance in this novel in “an arrangement of straps” meant to help him learn to walk, something he steadfastly refuses to do.

His childish savagery made terrible inroads on the crockery supply in the house, and on the many precious objects in it. They changed his clothes frequently and yet he was always dirty from dragging his tummy along the floor; his oversized head was full of bumps which made it even uglier than did its great size and his huge ears; saliva drooled in strings over his chest, and his hands, which were his only pretty feature, were always as black as if he knew no other amusement than playing with coal. (page 435)

It gets worse from there as the narrator describes him in more detail. In case the reader doesn’t get the symbolism of the offspring between the coarse nouveau riche like Torquemada and the poor nobility of the Aguilas, Galdós pounds it home: “What reasons must God have had to give them that sad and distressing little beast as an emblem of the future!” Even though I don’t believe Galdós believes all of the future must turn out the way of the younger Valentín, the boy provides a warning for the combination of the unbridled or unchecked worst traits from both sides.

One of the funniest and most poignant moments in the novel occurs when Torquemada slips out of his mansion unseen in order to visit “the places he had spent the best years of his life, working like a slave, certainly, but in tranquil independence”. Returning to one such neighborhood, Torquemada visits an old friend at his tavern. The simple fare served at the tavern tasted heavenly, yet Torquemada throws it all up (“The whole floor of the room was too small for everything that came out of that miserable body”)—he no longer belongs in either his old milieu or his new world. His health, declining rapidly before this outing, will not recover from the visit. Even though Torquemada is on his deathbed, he never stops thinking of new ways to make money and comes up with an idea to convert the government’s debt. Torquemada’s last word was “Conversion,” but whether he was accepting salvation or thinking of the public debt is left unresolved.

Torquemada in Purgatory: Part Three

Torquemada by Benito Pérez Galdós
Translation by Frances M. López-Morillas
New York: Columbia University Press (1986), Hardcover
ISBN: 0231062281 / 9780231062282

The Torquemada novels:
1. Torquemada at the Stake (1889)
2. Torquemada on the Cross (1893)
     a. Story
     b. Themes
     c. Characters
3. Torquemada in Purgatory (1894)
     a: Part One
     b. Part Two
     c. Part Three
4. Torquemada and Saint Peter (1895)

One last post of excerpts from this novel…

The new year brings more financial success for Torquemada but his home life proves to be far from happy. He no longer has any strength to fight Cruz on expenditures, but to make matters worse he overhears his son-in-law, Quevedito the doctor, discuss his baby boy:

“The child’s a freak. Have you noticed the size of his head, and those ears that hang like a hare’s? And the legs haven’t acquired their natural shape, and if he lives, which I doubt, he’ll be bowlegged. I’ll be very much surprised if we don’t have a little marquis of San Eloy who’s a perfect idiot.” (page 349)

Torquemada’s social evolution continues, and even though “the marquisate sat rather awkwardly on him, like a pair of pistols on a statue of Christ,” eventually he fits into the social milieu. Fidela becomes more serious after giving birth and quits her flirtatious ways with Morentín. The “professional adulterer” gives up on a possible conquest but the damage has been done since public opinion believes the affair to have happened:

But no one could destroy the hard concretion formed with evil thoughts and society’s false logic. Like certain calcareous conglomerates, the slander hardened with time, and in the end not a soul could break it with all the hammers of truth. (page 359)

This is a world Rafael does not believe he belongs in anymore, especially with the birth of Valentín. Violent seizures sometime strike him when he is near the baby while brief thoughts of doing the baby harm flit through his mind. These thoughts disgust him and he rejects them, yet he cannot shake them. His belief in the unholy union of the Aguila family with Torquemada has not softened:

”I want to deceive myself with flattery, with praises of myself; but above all these blandishments rises my reason, telling me that I’m the most benighted fool God ever put into the world. Mistaken in everything! I firmly believed that my sister would be unhappy, and she is blissful. Her happiness knocks down all this logic, which I store in my poor broken-down brain like rusty scrap iron. I firmly believed that the absurd, unnatural marriage of the angel and the beast would have no offspring, and this hybrid manikin, this monster, has come of it—for he is a monster, he must be, as Quevedito says. What a representative of the Aguila line! What a marquis of San Eloy! This is revolting. If the social cataclysm doesn’t come soon, it must be that God wants society to decay gradually and pulverize everything into garbage to make future growth more fertile.” (page 363>

Compare the last quote from page 131 in this post for some echoes of fertilizer. We’ll see that image often. There are several such comparisons or repeating phrases that are used for good effect. A couple examples that come to mind: Torquemada has no idea what to do with a relevé of lamb and seems incredulous that he is expected to suck on the bones. Proving to be a quick study, a few pages later he accuses Cruz of “sucking the marrow out of my bones”. The narrator may italicize some of Torquemada’s strained use or misuse of phrases, but when some of his sycophantic friends begin using the same language (most humorously the pedant Zárate) he reports it with a straight face.

By the end of the book, Rafael and Torquemada come to a type of understanding with each other in a very moving scene where they constantly talk past each other. Galdós provides a precursor to that scene which contains much more antagonism—a planned banquet in honor of Torquemada sets the stage for a sarcastic speech by Rafael, one he advises Torquemada to deliver:

” ‘Señores, I am cleverer, infinitely cleverer than you, though many of those who hear me are adorned with academic degrees and official labels which I lack. Since you are casting dignity aside, I will cast away modesty, and tell you that I richly deserve the cult of adulation that you render me, a shining golden calf. Your idolatry would turn my stomach if I did not keep it will fortified against all possible repugnance. What do you praise in me? Virtues, talent? No, riches, which in this pitiful age are the supreme virtue and wisdom par excellence. You praise my money, for I have been able to make it and you have not. You all lead lives full of deceit, some in the sorry traffic of political and bureaucratic life, others in the religion of living on borrowed money. You envy me, you see in me a superior being. Very well: I am one, and you are a bunch of useless dummies, clay figures modeled with a certain amount of skill; I’m made in the style of Alcorcón pottery, but not in clay, in pure gold. I count for more than all of you put together, and if you wish to test the fact, make a trial of me, put your shoulders under my throne and carry me in procession, for it is no exaggeration to carry your idol through the streets. And while you are acclaiming me deliriously I will low, for I repeat that I’m a calf, and after congratulating myself on your servility, seeing you crowded beneath me, I will open my four legs and reward you with a copious evacuation, in the clear understanding that my manure is ready money. I pass five-duro coins and even banknotes when I want to present my friends with the efforts of my belly. And you fall all over yourselves to pick it up; you gather up this precious manna, you—‘ “. (page 370)

Cruz cuts her brother short but Torquemada praises the mock (and mocking) speech—he understands the absurdity of the situation and agrees with Rafael’s view, although he says he wishes he were “able to say those awful things in a language with a double meaning, the kind that says what it doesn’t exactly say.” The real speech goes over well enough, giving the sycophants plenty to praise and those with “mocking hostility” many examples to ridicule. Galdós even makes the way he report the speech amusing, pretending the narrator was there as he thanks “the diligent scribes whom the narrator of this story took to the banquet, at his own expense and risk”. Risk? There’s plenty of commentary accompanying the speech, much of it as footnotes. My favorite footnote:

¹⁴ In the group of critics. Morentín: “Have you ever seen such a delicious fool?” Juan de Madrid: “What I see is that he’s a first-class satirist. Zárate: “Yes, he’s making fun of everyone here.”

Unfortunately for Torquemada, Cruz has even grander plans that will drain his earnings even faster—a ducal palace is up for auction. Not to mention an art gallery, armor collection, and library to fill the mansion. Longing to see “my old house in the Calle de San Blas” instead of being saddled with a mansion, Torquemada notes that Rafael initially seemed to be “the craziest one in the family” but now appeared to be the sanest.

The last ten pages of the novel provides the moving scene between Rafael and Torquemada I mentioned earlier, a heartrending conversation which is relatively modest (at least for Galdós) on the melodrama scale. Both men unburden their consciences but Torquemada doesn’t understand the full implications of Rafael’s statements. The blind man despairs at his inability to belong in the changing Spain. Fortified after his test of Torquemada, Rafael prepares his suicide. Torquemada knows something is amiss but doesn’t comprehend the depth of Rafael’s despair. I’ll include a couple of short passages from Rafael, but keep in mind the conversation builds on itself, the two men’s interaction and lack of understanding amplifying the impact:

”He [Valentín] will not know the that the House of Gravelinas [the family’s mansion up for sale] has turned into a decent sort of flea market, where the spoils of the hereditary nobility are piled, buried in garbage. What a sad end for a lineage! Believe me,” he added with gloomy bitterness, “death is preferable to the sorrow of seeing the most beautiful things that exist in the world in the hands of the Torquemadas.” (page 402)

“The monarchy is a useless formula; the aristocracy, a shadow. In their place the dynasty of the Torquemadas, vulgo the newly-rich moneylenders, reigns and governs. It is the empire of the capitalists, the partriciate of those papier-mâché Medicis. I don’t know who it was who said that the impoverished nobility seeks plebian manure to fertilize it and be able to live a little longer.” (page 403)

A quick word on the names Galdós uses for his characters—they usually are chosen to represent something significant or invoke a feeling about the person. Fidela’s name seems to be fairly obvious—the similarity to fidelity highlights her loyalty and faithfulness. Rafael could be several things, most likely a tie to the archangel Raphael, patron saint of blind people. Maybe an allusion to Milton's Paradise Lost is included as well, where God asks Raphael to remind Adam about eating from the tree of knowledge. There’s also the possibility of the painter Raphael who died young (in his late 30s). Cruz truly does represent Torquemada’s cross to bear in addition to her bearing the brunt of the responsibility during the family's poverty. The Aguila/eagle family name provides irony for their plummet and rebound while maintaining a noble spirit. Dr. Rhian Davies, on her summary page of the Torquemada novels has this to say about the highest profile name used:

It is perhaps significant that Galdós should have chosen to name his protagonist after Tomás de Torquemada, for the Inquisition was often a theme of the regeneracionista treatises of the period. Some argued that the Inquisition had isolated Spain from her European counterparts and condemned the country to decadence. There are, indeed, many readings that can be applied to the novels: such is the universality of Galdós's novels, which, in lending themselves to multiple readings, constantly renew their appeal for readers of all backgrounds and all beliefs.

Torquemada in Purgatory: Part Two

Torquemada by Benito Pérez Galdós
Translation by Frances M. López-Morillas
New York: Columbia University Press (1986), Hardcover
ISBN: 0231062281 / 9780231062282

The Torquemada novels:
1. Torquemada at the Stake (1889)
2. Torquemada on the Cross (1893)
     a. Story
     b. Themes
     c. Characters
3. Torquemada in Purgatory (1894)
     a: Part One
     b. Part Two
4. Torquemada and Saint Peter (1895)

Continuing with excerpts from the novel…
Now that a potential heir is expected, Cruz has additional leverage over Torquemada, pushing him to spend even more money to improve the family’s lifestyle. It never dawns on Cruz that she exhibits and advocates the same type actions that ruined the Aguila family. The narrator paints Cruz as having the noblest of intentions, yet he can’t hide her ambition or the revenge that drives her:

It was not for motives of fleeting vanity that Cruz del Aguila desired the pomps of aristocratic life, but for those of noble ambition, for she wished to encompass with prestige and honor the obscure man who had rescued the illustrious ladies from poverty. She really had no ambitions for herself; but the family must recover its rank and, if it was possible, aspire to a higher position than that of former times, to confound those envious souls who commented on its social resurrection with vulgar justs. Cruz proceeded in this plan with pride of breeding, as a person who looks out for the dignity of her people, and also with a feeling of lofty vengeance against relatives she loathed, who after having denied them help during their period of penury, now tried to make her and her sister look as ridiculous as possible because of the marriage with the moneylender. By raising him high and making the man into a personage, and the personage into an eminence, she and her sister would be winning the game, and the darts of slander would turn against those who had thrown them. (page 292)

Even though Torquemada complains about Cruz and Fidela “setting me up like a straw man to advertise their vanity to the whole world”, he finds himself welcome at the finance ministry where his aptitude for business, especially parsimony, proves useful. Galdós picks a character to represent the political favoritism and rot in power, noting that those that profit most from such acts are usually the loudest when it comes to moralizing:

The same could not be said of Don Juan Gualberto [Serrano], a man whose conscience was so elastic that many droll things were told of him, some of which must be withheld, for their very enormity makes them unconvincing. He never looked out for the State, which he considered to be a great son of a—; he always looked out for private interests, either in the essential concept of the “I myself” or in an altruistic and humanitarian form, such as protecting a friend, defending a company, business establishment, or any sort of entity. The fact is that in the five famous years of the Liberal Union’s existence, he achieved considerable wealth, and then that pesky revolution and the Carlist War completed the job of feathering his nest. If we are to believe what malicious gossip said, both verbally and in print, Serrano had swallowed up whole pine forests, many square leagues of pine trees, all at one gulp, with his fabulous stomach. And, to get rid of the overload, he had amused himself (following the adage about the devil finding work for idle hands) by supplying to soldiers shoes with cardboard soles, or giving them moldy beans and rotten codfish to eat; little pranks which, at most, at the very most, raised a bit of noise in a few nespapers; and owing to the mischievous coincidence that those newspapers did not have the best reputation for truth-telling, because they had written a great many lies about that campaign, no one thought of carrying the matter to a formal inquiry by the courts, nor did the possibility of such an inquiry cause any fear whatsoever in Don Juan Gualberto, who was a first cousin of various directors-general, a brother-in-law of judges, a nephew of magistrates, and a more or less close relative of an infinite number of generals, senators, councilors, and grand panjandrums. Therefore, in the meetings we are talking about, the only one who spoke of morality was Serrano. (page 284)

Torquemada’s unhappiness at being forced into his role in society, in addition to the role of spendthrift, increases until he begins to sound like Rafael. “Kill me and be done with it, for I’m such a fool that I don’t know how to resist you [Cruz], and I let you strip me and beat me and flay me alive.” The hope of a son, of a reincarnated Valentín, buoys Torquemada through his troubles. Very much against his will, he allows himself to be dragged off to the northern coast for part of the summer. While there, Rafael reveals to Cruz his suspicion that “my sister Fidela has a lover, and that that lover is Morentín.” Upon reflection Rafael identifies what he believes to be the underlying reason for its occurrence: “The thing is the product of social life, of the corruption of customs, of the disorder of the moral idea.” Neither Cruz or Rafael believe Morentín has been successful in his advances, but the slanders are part of the “atmosphere” of society. In a moving passage, Cruz develops a compassion for Torquemada—through her machinations she has made him profoundly unhappy and the subject of gossip. She is plagued by the idea that maybe they should renounce their current way of living and

go to live in some small town, where the only frock coat they saw would be the mayor’s on the day of the patron saint, where they were no elegant and depraved young men, envious and gossiping old women, politicians in who parliamentary life all forms of life, ladies who enjoy hearing talk about other women’s frailties so as to make their own more respectable, or, in a word, so many forms and styles of moral laxity. (page 321)

The friend of the family the narrator calls the pedant, Zárate, visits Torquemada often after the return to Madrid. Concerned about Rafael’s mental stability, Zárate advances a theory to the moneylender: “I believe that our young man is not insane but is pretending to be, as Hamlet pretended to be, so that he could act as he wished in the course of a family drama.” Torquemada laughs at the idea, happy that there is finally peace in the family. “And he was left with a doubt as to who that ‘Hamley’ might be; but he refrained from asking, preferring to give the impression that he knew. But from the name and the fact that he pretended to be mad, he rather imagined that the fellow in question must have been a poet.”

Torquemada’s business dealings continue apace and his income, as well as his expenses, increase. Cruz’s compassion and empathy for Torquemada doesn’t mean she stops her machinations. Torquemada is nominated as a senator (“These posts are always profitable” notes Serrano), although the idea of additional influence on the Treasury has some appeal. The opportunity to acquire the title of marquis, after the millions due in benefice taxes are paid, of course, sends Torquemada over the edge: “This life is a purgatory for me, and here I am, paying for all the sins of my life…which aren’t very many.” And later: “No more purgatory, no more doing penance for sins I haven’t committed; no more throwing the blessed fruits of my labors out the window.” Since the title would antagonize the right people, Cruz makes sure it is conferred to Torquemada.

The penance continues as Torquemada is tormented as the costs associated with the senate seat and the title escalate—more is expected of him in such society, even if the payoff is theoretically in the future. His fortune is often compared, by the narrator and characters, to sea foam, and at the rate it dissipates it’s not a bad analogy. The impending arrival of a baby proves to be the one joy in his life, although even then certain thoughts torment him and his miserly instincts momentarily extend to a refund of…ahem…certain emissions (the italics is the narrator’s way of highlighting Torquemada’s affected speech):

Among these joys, the great event approached, eagerly awaited by the miser, for he thought he saw in it the compensation for his sufferings over the useless extravagance with which Cruz was trying to gild the bars of his cage. Very soon now the delights of fatherhood would sweeten the sorrows of the usurer, constantly thwarted in his attempts to accumulate wealth. The good man also wanted to resolve that cruel doubt: would his son be a Torquemada, as he had the right to expect, if the Supreme Maker behaved like a gentleman? ”I’m inclined to believe that He will,” he said to himself, in a regular flood of fine language. “Though it could well be that that busybody, Nature, will muddle up the matter and the baby will turn out to have Aguila instincts, in which case I’d as the Lord God to give me my money back…I mean, not the money, the, the…There’s no expression for that idea. We’ll soon emerge from this dilemma. And it could just as well be a girl, and be like me, devoted to economy. We’ll soon see. I’m inclined to believe that it will be a boy, and hence another Valentín, in a word, Valentín himself under his very own aspect. But those two don’t believe it, undoubtedly, and that’s why expectation reigns in everyone, as when folks are waiting for the lottery to be drawn.”(page 337)

After a difficult delivery on Christmas Eve, Torquemada’s son is born. The birth gave him resolve to stand up to Cruz and what he sees as extravagant spending, such as paying for two wet nurses. As usual with Galdós, events can be ambiguous (ellipsis mine):

But Don Francisco listened to no arguments but those of his avarice. Never had he felt in his soul such a desire for rebellion, nor such an inability to carry it from thought to deed, for the fascination that Cruz exercised on him was even greater and more irresistible since Valentín’s birth. It can be understood that the household tyrant used this to consolidate her control and make it invulnerable against any kind of rebellion. The poor miser groaned as his chocolate passed from the cup into his stomach, and as Cruz encouraged him to let her know his thoughts, the poor man tried to speak, but the words simply refused to emerge from his lips. He tried to bring to them the vulgarly expressive terms that he had been accustomed to use in the free period of his life, but only fine concepts and words came into his mouth, the language of that opulent slavery in which he was wasting away, cramped by a personality that bound in chains all the ferocity of his own. …

The miser was weeping, no doubt because the last piece of chocolate-soaked bread had stuck in his throat.

Torquemada in Purgatory: Part One

Torquemada by Benito Pérez Galdós
Translation by Frances M. López-Morillas
New York: Columbia University Press (1986), Hardcover
ISBN: 0231062281 / 9780231062282

The Torquemada novels:
1. Torquemada at the Stake (1889)
2. Torquemada on the Cross (1893)
     a. Story
     b. Themes
     c. Characters
3. Torquemada in Purgatory (1894)
     a. Part One
4. Torquemada and Saint Peter (1895)


He’s been at the stake. He’s been on the cross. Now Torquemada is in Purgatory. But which Purgatory? There are differing versions of Purgatory, but even if I go with the Catholic Catechism (a “purification, so as to achieve the holiness necessary to enter the joy of heaven”), there would be differing methods depending on where he would be headed ("this final purification of the elect . . . is entirely different from the punishment of the damned").

For this novel I plan to step back and let Galdós do most of the talking, which means I’ll have too many excerpts. Even though the book isn’t that difficult to find, I don’t feel too guilty with extended excerpts since I haven’t seen anyone else write about these books. On to Part One of Purgatory…

Our narrator, inserting himself more than in the previous novels of the series, begins this novel by listing chroniclers and writers that supposedly wrote about the same subject (noting a few differences in their claims), such as “The licentiate Juan de Madrid, that diligent and malicious chronicler of The Sayings and Doings of Don Francisco Torquemada”. That the miser, or rather former miser, received so much coverage hints at the rise in rank and reputation to come.

Part of Torquemada’s purification/punishment is a change in his habits, relentlessly pushed by Cruz. Alternately flattering and shaming him, Cruz never presents her suggestions as a benefit for her but as something Torquemada deserves for his accomplishments, his destiny, and his heir-to-be. It’s true that Torquemada had achieved much in a short period of time, both in improving himself and in his business dealings. The following excerpt provides a good example of Galdós’ style as well as highlights a few themes in these and other of Galdós’ novels (the italicized phrases reflect the narrator’s tweaking of Torquemada’s affected speech):

The things God accomplishes! That rascal Torquemada had extraordinary luck in everything, and never touched a transaction that did not turn out like a charm, with neat and safe profits, as though he had spent his life doing good works and Divine Providence wanted to reward him hugely. Why did fortune favor him, when his methods of getting rich had been so base? And what kind of Providence is it which understands the logic of the phenomenon thus, as the miser had remarked in connection with something quite different? No one can fathom the mysterious relationship between the moral life and the financial, or business, life, and the theory that such currents are going to enrich the arid gournd where the flower of goodness does not and cannot grow. This is why the poor and honest majority believes that money is crazy; it is why holy religion, confounded by the monstrous iniquity with which currency is distributed and stored away, and, not knowing how to console us, does so with disdain for riches, which of many is a fool’s consolation. At any rate, be it known that Donoso’s foresighted friendship had surrounded Don Francisco [Torquemada] with very honorable persons who could assist him in increasing his hoard. The stockbroker, who was his associate in the buying and selling of shares, was a man of the most exquisite honesty in addition to possessing an astonishing capacity for work. Other go-betweens who offered him discounts on notes of hand, shares on margin, and a host of deals whose honorableness no one would have dared to put to the test, were nevertheless the best of their ilk. It is true that they, with their good mercantile sense of smell, understood from the very first day that Torquemada was not easily gulled, and perhaps the foundations of their ethical behavior rested upon this, together with the fact that Don Francisco, a man of extraordinary perspicacity in such dealings, guessed their thoughts before they were revealed in words. It was from this reciprocal knowledge, from this interpenetration of desires, that perfect agreement among cronies resulted, as well as a fat profit from their operations. And here we are in the presence of a fact that explains the monstrous gifts of mad luck and the paradox that scoundrels do grow rich. We must not talk so much about blind fortune, or believe the fable that she goes about with bandaged eyes. That is an invention of cheap symbolism! It is not so, no indeed. Nor need we admit that Providence protected Torquemada simply to infuriate all poor and sentimental honest men. It was—let us speak plainly—it was that Don Francisco had a talent of the first magnitude for business, an aptitude nurtured during thirty years of apprenticeship in small-scale moneylending, and later developed on a very large scale in a broader milieu. The education of that talent had been hard, amid privations and horrendous battles with undependable humanity, and from it he drew a very profound knowledge of people, solely in the area of needing to have, or not needing to have, patience, obvious appreciation of a certain percentage, tenacity, and exquisite calculation of opportunity. These qualities, later applied to large-scale operations, were polished and acquired a formidable development, as Donoso and the other powerful friends who were gradually added to the circle soon observed.

All of them acknowledged him to be an uncultivated man, vulgar and sometimes brutally egotistical; but at the same time they saw that he had a masterly eye for business, a completely reliable knack which gave him irrefutable authority, so that although all of them considered themselves his betters in general life, they deferred to the ruffian in that specialized branch of give and take, and listened to him as to one of the Church fathers—father of a financial church, that is. Ruiz Ochon, Arnáiz’s nephews, and others, who through Donoso’s good offices began to frequent the house on the Calle de Silva, chatted with the moneylender, making a show of superiority to him; but really they were spying out his thoughts in hopes of appropriating them. They were the swineherds and Torquemada the pig who, by sniffing the ground, uncovered the hidden truffles, and the place where they saw him rooting was a sure stroke of business. (pages 230 – 231)

At the risk of this post running too long, it’s worth including Torquemada’s view on literature (“twaddle” and “puffing poets”) since I wonder how much of this reflects Galdós’ views, particularly on the worth of labels:

”Dammit!” he said on a certain occasion. “What does this business about classic mean, I wonder? What terms these gentry use! I’ve heard tell of the classic stew and the classic mantilla, but I can’t see what something classic, when they’re talking about poems or plays, has to do with chick-peas or Almagro lace. The fact is that these fellows who spout off such infusions about the big and little of literary things always talk in code, and the devil himself couldn’t understand them. And then all this about romanticism, what can it be? What sauce do you eat that with? And I also wish somebody would explain the aesthetic emotion to me, though I imagine it’s something like a person’s having a fit. And what does realism mean, for it’s nothing to do with the realm or any damned thing like that!” (page 233)

Rafael, Torquemada’s blind brother-in-law, continues with his strict condemnation of Torquemada, often noting that even with his blindness he sees the compromise the family has made and the moral bargaining their so-called friends make regarding Torquemada’s wealth. He excoriates his sister Cruz for her role in the debasement of the family honor, telling her God will punish her because “what you have done will have its reward, not in the life to come but in this one, for, since you’re not bad enough to go to hell, you will have to purge your sins here, here on earth.” (pages 236 – 237) While believing it beneath his dignity to insult Torquemada (to his face, anyway), Rafael feels burdened by the compromise he has committed in accepting the moneylender’s hospitality. Even when judging himself harshly, he doesn’t relent in his abuse of Cruz and the “soft demoralization” he believes has happened: “Sate yourselves with riches, with luxury, with vanity, with all the garbage that has replaced the refined delicacy of pure and noble sentiments. Let him pay you what you are worth.” (page 240)

I want to spend some time introducing Pepe Serrano Morentín, Rafael’s fellow student from university days and general cad-about-town. Galdós, by extension, harshes on the younger generation’s mellow (ellipses are mine, except for the last one):

He was a bachelor, of lower-class extraction on his father’s side and aristocratic on his mother’s, hence a hybrid socially like almost all the present generation; excellent manners, well suited to the present state of society, which his ample fortune made him consider the best of all possible worlds; complacent because he had been born handsome and possessed the qualities which usually excite no envy; without sufficient intelligence to feel the painful attractions of an ideal, without sufficient coarseness of spirit to be unaware of intellectual pleasures; lacking the great satisfactions of triumphant pride, but also the sorrows of the ambitious man who never reaches his goal; a man possessing neither vice nor virtues in high degree… .Although he rode for two or three hours every day, he had never been carried away by enthusiasm for horses, nor by the fever of gambling, nor of women, apart from a certain degree of involvement that never reaches the point of drama or exceeds the limits of a discreet, elegant, and urbane kind of love affair. In a word, he was very much a man of his time, or of his day, spiritually equipped with a sort of gilded commonplaceness, with a dozen and a half ready-made ideas of the kind that seem to come from the factory in little labeled packages, fastened with an elastic band. … And in the moral sphere, Morentín defended decent behavior both in public and in private, but this did not mean that he was free of the mild relaxation of morals that is scarcely felt by those who live with it.

He was one of those cases, not so very rare to be sure, of a satisfied life, for he possessed moderate wealth, was rightly considered to be enlightened, and his society was very agreeable to ladies. The height of his ambition had been to be a member of Parliament, simply to exhibit the office, with no pretensions to a political career or fame as an orator. … And, to complete the picture, even the rascal’s vanity as a cool and successful adulterer had been satisfied, and he had nothing left to aspire to or to ask from God…or whomever it is one asks for such things. pages 248 – 250)

Rafael accuses Morentín of being Fidela’s lover, something Morentín denies. At this point the reader has no reason to believe in the affair but the following scene, an interrupted conversation between the cad and Fidela, leaves the accusation open to belief because of what appears to be their flirting. Morentín later confirms his intention to seduce Fidela to one of his and Rafael’s mutual friends. (There’s a nice reference to Clarissa with Morentín being told he was seen “doing the Lovelace.”)

In Chapter 11, Galdós muses on the “leveling” of society, at least along certain lines. “Let us recognize that in our time, a time of uniformity and a physical and moral leveling process, generic types have become outworn and that, in the slow twilight of the old world, those traits represented by large portions of the human family—classes, groups, moral categories---are gradually disappearing.” Galdós, for the most part doesn’t express a strong opinion about this change, although he does favorably mention the progress of industry and the lowering of tariffs as a good thing for everyone, even if does cause “great confusion in our minds in the matter of types.” The exception must have been something close to home—the pedant. “What is most confusing nowadays is that the current pedants are not as amusing as those others were, and since they do not possess amusing qualities, there is no way to recognize them at first sight.” I wonder if he had particular critics in mind? “The modern pedant is dry, diffuse, peevish, pugnacious, incapable of amusing anyone.” (page 266)

Torquemada isn’t blind to what others think of him, even if he only sometimes understands the reasons. Cruz is the one person that persistently confounds him. She always gets “the better of him with her arrogance, with her brutal logic, and the skinflint was unable to defend himself against her authority”. (page 275) Her authority was pretty much absolute in the house:

Cruz ruled and would always rule, whatever the flock entrusted to her care; she ruled because, since the day she was born, heaven had endowed her with powerful energies, and because by battling with her fate during the long years of poverty, those energies had been tempered and strengthened until they were colossal, irresistible. She was government, diplomacy, administration, religious dogma, armed forces, and moral force, and against this combination of authorities or principles the wretches who came under her iron rule were helpless.(page 278)

In the battle between Torquemada and Cruz, she will not let him forget he is her creation—his improvement in his social standing and the influx of wealth (and the associated outflow of it) are due to her will. Torquemada sees “tyranny and women” as “what this devilish marriage machine is made of.” Torquemada’s joy at finding out Fidela is pregnant, convinced it is “my own son who’s coming back, because I wanted him to, and because it was decreed by the Most High, or the Most Low, or whoever it was!” leads him to believe he can escape their tyranny…

Galdós: the novel is fact and fiction at the same time

I wanted to take a short break from posting on the Torquemada novels to link to an article by Harriet Stevens Turner on the author and some of his work. It sounded like there was quite a bit of interest in Fortunata and Jacinta--if you plan on reading it you should find the article very helpful.

Turner, Harriet Stevens, "Benito Pérez Galdós" (2004). Spanish Language and Literature. Paper 11.
http://digitalcommons.unl.edu/modlangspanish/11

A few excerpts, useful for an overall understanding of Galdós and pertaining to the Torquemada novels:

(Pages 394 - 395) In two essays, written nearly thirty years apart (1870, 1897), Galdós states the premises that shaped his Realist novels: the central role played by the rising middle class; the religious problem, which either divided or dissolved families; adultery and prostitution, which posed the contested question of personal and civil rights; and the rising mix of rural and urban masses, occurring as peasants flocked to the cities after the disentailment of Church lands (1837), the tariff reforms of 1849 and 1868, and as the ensuing boom in real estate development and industrialization began to produce an upper bourgeoisie. We find the mercantile and banking families like the Santa Cruces and Moreno Islas (Fortunata y Jacinta) mixing with "indianos," people from impoverished, rural areas who emigrated to the West Indies (Cuba, Puerto Rico), made fortunes as slavers or entrepreneurs, and returned to Madrid to flood the markets with money, as does Josi Maria Manso (El amigo Manso). Soon "indianos" and the newly rich of Old Madrid's trading neighborhoods evolved into ruthless financiers and speculators like Shnchez Botin in La desheredada and the usurer Torquemada, who starts as a ragpicker at the Gate of Toledo (the southern entrance to Madrid) and ends as a mogul, virtually owning the city.

In between rich and poor we find a chafed petty bourgeoisie of moneylenders, laborers, artisans, salesmen, disgruntled office-seekers, civil servants, and, a step up, professional people - pharmacists, lawyers, doctors, and engineers. Galdós celebrates this motley, nascent middle class as the "inexhaustible source" of creativity and entrepreneurial energy. One example, which occurs in the first part of Fortunata y Jacinta, is the column of an old-fashioned storefront in Old Madrid. Shopkeepers have dressed the column in corsets - red, black, and white - transforming it into an erotically charged, novelistic personage - female, wily, slightly sexual, who beckons provocatively to passers-by. The narrator sees this transformation as a shopkeeper's "sentimiento pintoresco" ("flair for the picturesque" [Obras, v, 991) but now the old notion of "picturesque" has become a culturally transparent sign for the changing status of women. In the novel of modernity women have taken to the streets as consumers, like the matriarch Barbarita Santa Cruz, but also as sexual objects, like Rosalia de Bringas, who squeezes her body into a corset and becomes, literally, a streetwalker who sells that plumped, perfumed body for money to buy luxury items. This surging middle class holds the key to the novel of modernity. Even in the early essay (1870), sure of his mission, Galdós registers doubt and unease about modernity's trends and conflicts - "graves cuestiones" ("serious matters") for which he, as a Realist writer, cannot supply solutions.


(Page 397)Adultery, identified by Galdós in his early essay (1870) as problematic, blurs boundaries between private and public spaces. As Jo Labanyi observes, "if it is possible to be simultaneously inside and outside, the boundary between the two positions disappears."


(Pages 402 - 403) In consequence, given Galdós' two-fold objective of representation and critique, as well as the aesthetic imperative to create, in fiction, the illusion of an autonomous, real, and truthful world, his novels offer deftly mediated narrative points of view. This technique creates a fictional, intermediate space, open to the reader, which, like other gap-like features, allows his novels to become forums of public debate. At the same time Galdós continuously retains control of his story, guiding the reader through the perceptions of both character and narrator via monologue, dialogue, and that effervescent, polyphonic mixture known as the free indirect style. The narrator is styled as a character: he evolves as a person; he may or may not be reliable, and he inevitably becomes compromised by what he sees and tells. Yet this sly, winking narrative persona leads the reader to perceive the complexities of his fictional world. As a creator of shifting, intermediate spaces and as one who occupies the vantage point of the reader, who identifies with that reader, and who is, at times, manifestly a reader himself of the faces and texts he has invented, the narrator, through various disguises, becomes perhaps the most subtle culturally transparent mode of Galdós' fiction. Now and again, like the blinded Francisco Bringas who surreptitiously lifts the edge of the band covering his eyes, peeping through a little "ventanita" ("window" [Obras, IV, 1614]), the narrator occasionally drops his mask to reveal the unexpected or unseen. He also frames scenes, focalizing through various "ventanitas" - "claraboya" ("transom"), curtains, keyholes, doors set ajar, balconies, even openings in a hedge - to transmute the import of narrative point of view into an image of what is being seen.


(Page 403) Events appear to have happened. The narrator has seen them and so appends a moral with which he addresses the reader. Now the story of Doña Perfecta is akin to fact; it belongs to the history of the nation. The novel is fact and fiction at the same time.


(Page 408) The origins of the "Torquemada" series reach back to other novels. It is as if Torquemada, an insistently recurring character, had staked a claim not only to unpaid loans but also to the indignation of the narrator, who now feels compelled to write the four-part series.

Torquemada on the Cross—Characters

Torquemada by Benito Pérez Galdós
Translation by Frances M. López-Morillas
New York: Columbia University Press (1986), Hardcover
ISBN: 0231062281 / 9780231062282

The Torquemada novels:
1. Torquemada at the Stake (1889)
2. Torquemada on the Cross (1893)
     a. Story
     b. Themes
     c. Characters
3. Torquemada in Purgatory (1894)
4. Torquemada and Saint Peter (1895)

[The beginning of Cruz’s prayer after finding out Torquemada wanted to wed one of the Aguila sisters] ”No, Holy Virgin and Eternal Father and all the heavenly powers, not I…I am not the one who must make this sacrifice to save us all from death. My sister must do it, she is the one, she is younger; she, who has scarcely had to fight. I am exhausted by this horrible battle with fate. I can’t stand any more, I’ll fall, I’ll die. Ten years of frightful warfare, always on watch, always in the front line, warding off blows, taking care of everything, inventing ruses to gain a week, a day, hours; hiding my grief so that the others would not lose courage; eating thistles and drinking gall so that the others could live! No, Lord, I have done my part; I am relieved from this obligation; my turn is over. Now it’s time for me to rest, to quietly rule the others. And Fidela, my little sister, who is coming under fire now in this unknown combat that is going to take place; she Is reserve troops; she is young and spirited, and still has rosy hopes. I have none; I am good for nothing, much less for marriage…and with that poor scarecrow!” (page 148, ellipsis in original)

Dr. Rhian Davies provides a helpful summary page of the Torquemada novels at The Pérez Galdós Editions Project. As I mentioned in the previous post, Galdós’ characters are very complex and rarely is one completely good or completely bad. I wanted to pause and delve into a few of the characters in this novel.
(See the links above for more background on the novel.)

Torquemada
Torquemada continues to be a fantastic creation. The name usually evokes either fear or revulsion (or both) because of his famous namesake, so the main character's suffering, as alluded to in the titles, seems somewhat ironic. His pain in Torquemada at the Stake is easy to see because of his son’s death but the agony could also allude to his frantic desperation to produce good deeds, something previously avoided.

What does he suffer in Torquemada on the Cross? All the situations (save one) that might possibly be called suffering are amusing to the reader, even if they do cause Torquemada agony. He embarrasses himself in meeting Cruz del Aguila. He struggles in helping the Aguila family regarding the debt they owe him because he “could not find suitable words to express the cancellation of interest. He possessed infinite ways of saying the opposite, but he did not know a word of the language of generosity, even by hearsay.” (page 96) His awkwardness in fine society and his attempt to copy Donoso’s example produces laughter in other characters as well as the reader. When Torquemada allows Donoso to arrange things with one of the Aguila sisters his agitation becomes palpable when he realizes he forgot to find out which sister he is to wed.

The real pain Torquemada feels (where the reader will feel sympathy) is the loss of his son Valentín. The pain is amplified after he has a bizarre dream in which his son says he is ready to return to the world. The desire to make this happen (implied as reincarnation) feeds Torquemada’s anxiety about the wedding—he wants to proceed straight to making this happen despite his bride’s illness.

Cruz del Aguila
Galdós structures Torquemada on the Cross so that you find out events from Torquemada’s perspective in Part One. The reader meets Cruz and her siblings as the miser sees them—honorable, gracious, humble, and hard-working. The perspective changes in Part Two and the reader hears Cruz’s inner thoughts. The narrator recounts the family’s difficulties and how Cruz handles their poverty. The cross to bear from the title could have applied to Cruz: “To go shopping without money, or with less money than she needed, was for so dignified a lady a torture beside which all the tortures invented by Dante in his terrible Inferno pales into insignificance.” (page 142)

This post’s opening quote, from the beginning of Cruz’s prayer after finding out Torquemada wanted to marry either her or Fidela, begins simply enough. She views their poverty as a battle and her role as general, but she is tired from bearing so much of the burden. The prayer begins to take a less savory turn, at least between the lines, and begins to read more like a rationalization of accepting Torquemada into the family in order to be wealthy again and not just for easing their plight. Despite all of Cruz’s sweetness there is a hard edge to her that she keeps under control and hidden (most of the time) that is slowly revealed to the reader. This edge begins to surface in her discussions with her brother Rafael, who is adamant in his objection to the marriage. As Cruz tries to persuade him to accept the marriage, it becomes easier to question her motives. She lies to Rafael at one point in order to neutralize one of his arguments. Cruz finally lashes out at Rafael, rebuking his unwillingness to soften his stance:

“You became blind: you have not seen the transformation of the world and the times. You don’t see the painful part of our present abject poverty and the humiliation in which we live. The blackest aspect, the one that cuts to the soul and destroys it most, is the aspect you do not know, cannot know. By the power of imagination, you still live in that brilliant world, full of falsehoods.” (page 161)

Rafael
Just as Galdós presents brilliant and noble Cruz in a manner to cause doubts about her motives, he also portrays the least agreeable character of the book with good traits. Rafael’s blindness occurred shortly after the family became destitute. His blindness is often used symbolically for his unwillingness to see or accept the situation his family is in. He muses aloud several times that he would be better off dead, wondering if the reason God blinded him was to save him from seeing such ignominy. He turns on his sister, the women that have sacrificed so much for him: “I know that it’s a matter of legal marriage. You are selling yourselves, by the good offices or connivances of Holy Church. It comes to the same thing. The shame is no less for that.” (page 156)

Through the terms Rafael uses for Torquemada, though, the reader begins to wonder how much of Rafael’s stance rests on principle and how much on snobbery. He insults the miser for being a “leech who feeds on the poor” and accruing his wealth through dishonest means. Yet he has survived in no small part due to the business dealings of Torquemada’s business associate Doña Lupe and others of their profession. I mentioned in the previous post that Donoso has implied that the sources of wealth for the nouveau riche may not be that different from the older nobility. Rafael continually sugarcoats the past without asking the same questions of it that he asks of the present:

“Among the Torre-Auñóns there has never been anyone who engaged in that shady business of buying and selling things—merchandise, stocks and bonds, that sort of thing. All of them were gentlemen, hidalgos who lived off the products of their inherited lands, or honorable soldiers who died for king and country, or highly respectable priests. Even the poor members of that breed were always models of nobility. Oh, let me leave this world and return to my world, the other world, the past!” (page 182)

Instead of living with Torquemada, Rafael declares he will live off the charity and alms of others and that God “will provide him a charitable soul.” The sisters cannot convince him that God just did in the form of Torquemada (see the opening quotes of the outline post for additional quotes from Cruz and Rafael). Even with all these negative traits, Rafael's unswerving principles contrast favorably with the superficial nature of the society around him.

The next two are just for fun…

Justa Donoso
Don José Ruiz Donoso’s wife never makes an appearance in this book, but that doesn’t mean she can’t be introduced. Donoso had

“a wife who was, without the slightest doubt, the sickliest woman in creation. In the long catalogue of ailments that afflict miserable humanity, none was ever known that had not lodged itself in her poor body, nor was there a single part of that body which was not a pathological case worthy of study by all the practitioners in the world.” (page 138)

The tertulia that gathers at the Cruz’s apartment received steady updates on the status of Justa’s suffering:

“Every night Donoso enjoyed depicting, with heavy strokes, a painful ailment different from that of the previous night. And though he never spoke of hopes or probabilities of cure, because to be cured would have meant stripping the catalogue of illnesses of all their Dantesque majesty, he did, however, always have something to say about the continuous application of remedies, which were tested by a sort of therapeutic dilettantism, and would continue to be tested as long as there were pharmacies and pharmacists in the world.”

Dogs
After Rafael runs away from home, he stops to rest on a bench:

”Two stray dogs came up to him and smelled and nuzzled him. Rafael tried to keep them beside him with friendly words, but the two animals, who must have been endowed with great penetration and intelligence, realized that they would get little or nothing from him. After both, in leisurely fashion, had infringed the municipal ordinances on the blind man’s bench, they went off in search of more profitable adventures. (pages 196-197)

Torquemada on the Cross—Themes

Torquemada by Benito Pérez Galdós
Translation by Frances M. López-Morillas
New York: Columbia University Press (1986), Hardcover
ISBN: 0231062281 / 9780231062282

The Torquemada novels:
1. Torquemada at the Stake (1889)
2. Torquemada on the Cross (1893)
     a. Story
     b. Themes
3. Torquemada in Purgatory (1894)
4. Torquemada and Saint Peter (1895)

“[L]ook at the monarchy coming to terms with democracy, and the two of them eating off the same plate in the tavern of representative politics. And was this example not sufficient? Well, here was another. The aristocracy, an old tree with dried-up sap, could no longer survive unless it was fertilized (in the sense of manured) by the newly rich common people. And the sweat of the people’s brow had brought about some dandy little miracles in the last third of a century! Weren’t there a lot of people rolling around Madrid, lolling in carriages, whom he and everyone had once known selling dried beans and salt codfish, or lending money at interest? Were not many who in their childhood had been out at elbow or had gone hungry to buy cheap shoes, lifetime senators and councilors of banks by now? Well and good: to this element Torquemada belonged, and he was a fresh example of the people’s sweat fecundating--he was incapable of rounding off the sentence.” (page 131)

Dr. Rhian Davies provides a helpful summary page of the Torquemada novels at The Pérez Galdós Editions Project. In my post on the movie The Grandfather, I mentioned several themes that have run through the novels by Galdós I have read, many of which appear in Torquemada on the Cross. I wanted to pause and look at a few that are prominent in this novel. (See the “Story” post for storyline and names.)

Changing social dynamics
Torquemada proves to be a humorous example of the nouveau riche, an expanding class in Spain Galdós’ liked to highlight. Viewed as a leech, preying on both the rich and poor, the moneylender had trouble changing his miserly habits or moving outside his lowly social circle:

“Circumstances had changed for him with the fabulous growth of his wealth; he had a vague feeling that he had risen to a higher social category; whiffs of grandeur and gentlemanship, that is, of gentlemanliness, had risen to his nostrils. Impossible to establish himself in that higher state without changing his habits, and without repudiating to some degree all those ignoble arts of miserliness.” (page 90)

The Aguilas, a noble and gracious family that lost all their money, provides a counterbalance to Torquemada. Rafael del Aguila, disgusted by the way Torquemada accumulated wealth and his buffoonish behavior, wants nothing to do with the miser. Donoso upbraids Rafael, noting the “world has progressed” on the matter of where wealth comes from. Unspoken, but definitely hovering over Donoso’s rebuke, lies the question of the source of the old nobility’s wealth—was it always as untainted as Rafael idealized it? The first quote, by Cruz, in the “Story” post highlights the tension of the changing dynamics. For her, the family’s nobility and pride were nice but the humiliation of being in debt has made her realize that dignity and noble lineage won’t guarantee a meal.

I focus on this theme because Galdós explicitly draws a distinction between wealth, nobility, and morality. Torquemada’s wealth came from his business acumen, luck, and friendships…nothing related to his background or from his moral beliefs. In contrast to the miser are seemingly moral, upstanding people (like the Aguilas) experiencing poverty because of bad business deals (regardless of the motives behind the deals). Galdós presented an emerging structure in Spain where wealth was dissociated from morals, social prominence from nobility. Needless to say there were mixed feelings about these changes.

Political favoritism
Some institutions were not changing, as highlighted by the corrupt judicial system. The Aguila’s case, the reason Doña Lupe recommended Torquemada merge with the family in the first place, moves at a glacial pace toward resolution since money and social standing are needed for it to progress. Denoso sacrificed time, money, and effort in advancing the case but his resources are exhausted. It will remain to be seen in subsequent books how the case is moved forward and resolved.

Potential improvement
Another theme common in Galdós’ novels, or maybe better termed as his philosophy, focuses on the potential (and ability) of people, and thus society, to improve. While Torquemada may be the obvious case, rising up from humble origins and stumbling toward respectability (of a kind, at least), other characters reflect this as well. Torquemada’s business student, Doña Lupe, shows that even on her deathbed she had learned his lessons well and was able to initiate shrewd deals. Cruz and Fidela, already kind and virtuous, learn humility while maintaining their pride. Granted, not all improvements work. Galdós highlights the difference between superficial improvement and real change, including the provisional nature of some improvements. The latter was shown in Torquemada’s relapse, ending his quest to do good deeds after his son died.

What might be called a subset of this philosophy is the nature of most of Galdós’ characters—few are either completely good or bad. Most of them prove to be drawn in a complex, human manner which I’ll explore some in the next post.

Torquemada on the Cross - Story outline

Torquemada by Benito Pérez Galdós
Translation by Frances M. López-Morillas
New York: Columbia University Press (1986), Hardcover
ISBN: 0231062281 / 9780231062282

The Torquemada novels:
1. Torquemada at the Stake (1889)
2. Torquemada on the Cross (1893)
     a. Story
3. Torquemada in Purgatory (1894)
4. Torquemada and Saint Peter (1895)

(Cruz del Aguila) “Certain ideas are very deeply rooted in him [Rafael]—family feeling, pride of breeding, noble tradition. I too used to feel that, but over the years I have left it behind, caught on the brambles of the path. I’ve fallen and dragged myself on so many times that vulgarity has had the better of me. My brother keeps up his old attitude as a person of noble descent, enamored of dignity and a few other things which can’t be eaten and which no one has ever been able to eat in hard times.” (page 169)

(Rafael del Aguila) “You, Cándido, who are young and have eyes, must see wonderful things in this society made vile by business and positivistic attitudes. What goes on today, because it is so strange, allows us to foresee what is going to happen. What is happening today? The indigent populace, envious of the rich, threatens them, terrifies them, and wants to destroy them with bombs and diabolical devices of death. After this will come something else, which you will see when the smoke of these battles has lifted. In the times that are to come, ruined aristocrats, dispossessed of the properties by middle-class usurers and traders, will feel impelled to take revenge. They will want to destroy that selfish breed, those gross and vicious members of the bourgeoisie who, after absorbing the assets of the Church, have become masters of the State, who monopolize power and wealth, and want for their coffers all the money of rich and poor alike, and for their marriage beds the women of the aristocracy. You will surely see it, Cándido. We, the master who, even though they are like me, have eyes to see where they are wounding, will hurl explosive machines against that whole crowd of vile, irreligious peddlers, who are eaten up with vice and sated with base enjoyments. You will see it, you will surely see it.” (pages 215-216)

Dr. Rhian Davies provides a helpful summary page of the Torquemada novels at The Pérez Galdós Editions Project. Instead of one rambling essay I’m going to break what I had intended into more manageable posts.

Torquemada at the Stake ends just after the death of Torquemada’s son, Valentín, and the father’s renouncement of doing good works. Torquemada on the Cross begins with the death of Doña Lupe and Torquemada’s promise to her to unite with the Aguila family. Torquemada follows through on Doña Lupe’s request despite his initial missteps. Even with the riches he has earned over the years, Torquemada finds himself flummoxed when he meets the Aguila family, a noble family despite their poverty. Torquemada finds a social model in Don José Ruiz Donoso: “[T]his was his man, his prototype, what he must and would be now that he was rich and worthy of an honorable place in society.” (page 102) Torquemada discovers he no longer enjoys being around his immediate family, associates, and clients because of their vulgarity, even though his changes are mostly superficial (as well as comical).

Doña Lupe may have planted the idea of combining the Aguila family with Torquemada but Donoso brings it to fruition. The members of the Aguila family, sisters Cruz and Fidela and blind brother Rafael, react differently to Donoso’s proposal that one of the sisters marry Torquemada. Cruz, tired of bearing responsibility of managing the family’s poverty, all but commands Fidela to wed the moneylender. The terms the female Aguilas use to describe Torquemada and the proposal—“scarecrow,” “grotesque,” “sacrifice,” “ghastly,” “holocaust,” “ghastly”—contrast with their outward civility and acceptance of the marriage. During the wedding planning, Torquemada dreams his dead son asks for assistance in returning to the world, implying a son born to Fidela and Torquemada would be Valentín reincarnated.

Rafael refuses to accept the proposed wedding and the new living quarters Torquemada has leased, finding his sisters’ acquiescence to the merger human weakness at its worst. He would rather be honorably poor than accept the money from “crude and grotesque” Torquemada. Rafael slips out of the house one evening, taking a symbolic journey back to his parents’ mansion where they lived before their financial ruin and his blindness. Rafael eventually finds his way to the house of the family’s former housekeeper. Everyone agrees it would be best for Rafael to stay with the former housekeeper until after the wedding. The wedding day (August 4, 1889 for those keeping score) turns into a comedic fiasco with the bride extremely ill and Torquemada offensively drunk. Torquemada insists his son-in-law Quevedito cure Fidela immediately—he has a son to reincarnate, after all.

The book ends with Donoso bringing Rafael to the new house at Fidela’s request. Torquemada sees Rafael there and exclaims “The whole family together again…the beau ideal!” Something tells me the sequels won’t contain the perfect beauty he imagines.

Later this week I’ll post on a few of the themes and another post looking more in depth at several of the characters.

Torquemada at the Stake

Torquemada by Benito Pérez Galdós
Translation by Frances M. López-Morillas
New York: Columbia University Press (1986), Hardcover
ISBN: 0231062281 / 9780231062282

The Torquemada novels:
1. Torquemada at the Stake (1889)
2. Torquemada on the Cross (1893)
3. Torquemada in Purgatory (1894)
4. Torquemada and Saint Peter (1895)

I am going to tell about the journey to the stake taken by that inhuman creature who destroyed by fire so many unhappy lives; some he skewered through the liver with a red-hot poker; others he popped, well larded, into a pot, and frizzled the rest on one side and then the other over a slow fire, with searching, methodical anger. I am going to tell how the cruel executioner became a victim; how the hatred he had aroused turned to pity, and how clouds of curses rained compassion on him: a moving case, a very exemplary case, ladies and gentlemen, worthy of being told for the edification of all, a caution to offenders and a warning to inquisitors. … Torquemada is the paymaster of that hell where debtors wind up, naked and scorched: men with more needs than means to satisfy them; clerks with more children than paychecks; others avid for a civil service appointment after long periods of unemployment; transferred army officers with huge families and mothers-in-law as well; weak-willed persons who have a good job but are nibbled away by a little wife who gives teas and pawns her very soul to buy pastries; tearful widows who draw a pension from the civil or military credit union and yet are in dire financial straits; people from all walks of life who have never succeeded in solving the numerical problem that is the basis of social existence, and others who are hopeless wastrels and never pay their bills, who either have a screw loose in their heads or are devoid of morals—the tricksters and liars. (pages 3 – 4)

The introduction of Francisco Torquemada in this short novel reminded me of what I loved about reading Galdós. “[O]fficers with huge families and mothers-in-law as well” indeed. While Torquemada is the namesake of Ferdinand and Isabella’s inquisitor general, the historical figure suffers in comparison. The more recent Torquemada of this novel is nicknamed, at least by the narrator, “the Worse.” I have found it helpful to keep a list of names when reading Galdós because you never know when a character will resurface, not just in the same book but in other novels. Some of Torquemada’s background was provided in Fortunata and Jacinta while Galdós fleshes out more of his history in Torquemada at the Stake. For a frame of reference, Fortunata and Jacinta specifically takes place between December 1869 and 1876. Torquemada at the Stake takes place sometime after 1881—its timeframe is imprecise (we’ll see if later novels gets more specific).

Dr. Rhian Davies provides a helpful summary page of the Torquemada novels. I'll try not to duplicate her comments on this novel (in the first paragraph) since it is an excellent recap.

Torquemada’s wife Silvia dies, leaving him with two children: daughter Rufina and son Valentín. The son proves to be a “prodigy of prodigies,” mastering math at a young age and making a name for himself with his abilities. At twelve years of age he contracts meningitis and hovers between life and death. In contrast to Torquemada's gradual change over the years, where he slowly became less stingy with himself and his family, his response to his son's illness is an attempt to instantly change and provide charity for others. Not because he's selfless, mind you, but because he views these acts as a bargain with God (or humanity, or whatever) to keep his son alive.

Galdós’ description of the torments of Torquemada (and those of his intended beneficiaries) provide the heart of the story, deftly balancing humor and anguish on both sides. Torquemada possesses only a passing acquaintance with scripture: “Doesn’t God command us to clothe the sick, give water to the sorrowful, visit the naked?” To be fair, it may be his grief that rattles him at this point. What isn’t in question is how he views his attempted good deeds—they are a business transaction with God. Torquemada never forgets his business acumen during his deeds, keeping score of the good acts, real or intended, as if accruing them in his ledger. He's not afraid to take things in return that may monetarily benefit him down the road, either. When someone refuses his help, Torquemada gets angry at the ungrateful person for participating in the swindle of the possible loss of his son.

One person stands up to Torquemada—the ragpicker of the household, Tía Roma. She understands Torquemada’s attempt to bribe religion too well. Tía Roma spurns his attempted help, reminding him of his cruelty to his wife over the years while Tía Roma, poorest of the poor, provided help to Silvia. She believes his so-called change of heart is only temporary because of duress, predicting he will return to his normal ways after the son’s illness passes. Even though Torquemada’s grief is real—he has an epileptic-type fit when his son is near death— Tía Roma’s prediction proves correct. Believing his goods deeds went unrewarded Torquemada throws a “sumptuous” funeral, happy to note the important attendees. The novel ends with his return to his “earthly business.”

Because it is such a short novel, Galdós only gets to work in a little bit of social, political, and religious commentary. His pointed remarks about “clients” of Torquemada and other moneylenders reduces wealthy and poor alike to the same base level. We meet José Bailón, a friend of Torquemada and a former priest, whose philosophy proves to be a strange brew of radicalism and religion, substituting “humanity” for “God.” Galdós notes that Bailón and Torquemada share a concern over public health, Bailón blaming “everything on ‘effluvia,’” possibly symbolic of a poisonous atmosphere in Madrid.

More Torquemada after a much-needed trip away from everything…