A Troubling Endnote In The Putnam Quixote

by
Karl Johansen

 

Chapter III of the second book of The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote De La Mancha by Miguel de Cervantes. The quote is taken from the Samuel Putnam translation. 

   Endnote #12 for Chapter III reads: “El Tostado” was Alfonso [Tostado Riberea] de Madrigal, Bishop of Avila, who died in 1450. He is said to have left over sixty thousand written pages, but his works have now been completely forgotten.”

   Context is not important here and I hope no one needs to be told that Quixote is a good book. “…is said to have left over sixty thousand pages, but his works have now been completely forgotten.” There are some really great combinations of words and punctuation in this endnote. There is the “sixty thousand written pages,” effective even on its own. The “, but” is pretty special too, since it follows the voluminous effort of all those “written pages.” Following “sixty thousand” allows “, but” to have as much tension as an endnote can possibly muster. It forces us to ask ourselves, “Just what is going to happen to all sixty thousand written pages?” Which of course leads to the climactic, “have now been completely forgotten.”

   How does this happen? “…completely forgotten.” It has such conviction, which is saved from becoming cruelty only by the inclusion of that little trickster “, but.” Not to diminish the somewhat celebratory “have now” which seems to exist as though hinting at a process of forgetting the poor El Tostado’s work over time. It’s as though suddenly in 1940 the last man that remembered the (I want to put an adjective here but obviously cannot choose the right one) writing of the long dead Bishop of Avila died without passing on his unique knowledge. Did this man, perhaps a savant capable of remembering all sixty thousand pages, spend his entire life muttering over and over again each last utterance of El Tostado only to be ignored as a simpleton? Or did he (not such a savant but rather a genius) simply write updated versions of (were they novels? essays? poems? histories or philosophies?) El Tostado’s works? In this case is there some evolution of the works of El Tostado still in print? Did this man exist? Either of them; did either this man who died in 1940 or El Tostado himself exist? All I’m saying is that for someone to say that these sixty thousand pages “have now” been “completely” forgotten seems a little suspicious. It’s just too certain. The “have now” clearly indicates that the author of the endnote must know something more about the point at which they were last remembered. Perhaps there was a fire. The author of the endnote did not include a bit of further (nor useful) information about the fate of El Tostado’s effort. They left out the place and date of a great library’s burning, which was the last and only storehouse of El Tostado’s writings.

   No, I like the savant story better.

   I can see him in Spain. Clean shaven face, when he so clearly deserves a peppery mustache or a brilliant and ridiculous beard. Did some orderly comment on the savant’s very consistent mumbling? Certainly then the orderly would have heard one of Tostado’s lofty maxims (if he was at all lofty). Did this orderly pause, trying to remember this catchy line and fail to do so? Did he like to quote the savant’s mutterings to his friends? When he failed to remember it that last time did it forever slip from his mind and fall into oblivion? Did he ask his friends later on and did they all pause, trying so very hard to remember, to hold onto the greasy rope that was El Tostado’s writing? Was there a moment when one of these men had some expression of El Tostado’s on his tongue, about to break its way into daylight once again and then suddenly lost grip of it, relegating it to a now more complete oblivion? Is there a complete oblivion? Does causality have limits? Or can two different streams of causality collide and one then destroys the other? (In the case of the library fire.) Does Frito Lay know that there was a man named El Tostado?

   The next footnote is interesting, if less troubling.

   Endnote #13 of the same chapter reads: “See the Epistles of Pliny the Younger, Book III; he attributes the saying to his uncle, Pliny the Elder. This saying is again cited in Chapter LIX following.”

   There are two morals here, one for each footnote. Though they are certainly related.

   Moral #1: Some things do become lost if no one takes care to preserve them.
   Moral #2: Some guys have all the luck.