Use and reuse of English books in Anglo-Spanish Collections: the Crux of Orthodoxy

Exile, Diplomacy and Texts Exchanges between Iberia and the British Isles, 1500–1767 Edited by Ana Sáez-Hidalgo Berta Cano-Echevarría LEIDEN | BOSTON Contents Acknowledgements vii List of Illustrations viii Notes on the Editors ix Notes on the Contributors x Introduction 1 Ana Sáez-Hidalgo and Berta Cano-Echevarría part 1 Encountering the Other 1 Where Were the English? Antoon Van Den Wijngaerde, the Evidence of Visual Culture, and the 1557 Siege of Saint-Quentin 15 Glyn Redworth 2 Networks of Exchange in Anglo-Portuguese Sixteenth-Century Diplomacy and Thomas Wilson’s Mission to Portugal 32 Susana Oliveira 3 Irish Captives in the British and Spanish Mediterranean 1580–1760 55 Thomas O’Connor part 2 Narrating the Other 4 The Construction and Deconstruction of English Catholicism in Spain: Fake News or White Legend? 77 Berta Cano-Echevarría 5 Memoirs for ‘a Sunlit Doorstep’: Selfhood and Cultural Difference in Tomé Pinheiro da Veiga’s Fastigínia 103 Rui Carvalho Homem 6 The Fall of Granada in Hall’s and Holinshed’s Chronicles: Genesis, Propaganda, and Reception 130 Tamara Pérez-Fernández vi Contents part 3 Reading the Other 7 Use and Reuse of English Books in Anglo-Spanish Collections: the Crux of Orthodoxy 155 Ana Sáez-Hidalgo 8 Tools for the English Mission: English Books at St Alban’s College Library, Valladolid 185 Marta Revilla-Rivas 9 Diplomacy Narratives as Documents of Performance 208 Mark Hutchings Index Nominum 229 © ANA SÁEZ-HIDALGO, 2021 | doi:10.1163/9789004438040_009 This is an open access chapter distributed under the terms of the CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 license. chapter 7 Use and Reuse of English Books in Anglo-Spanish Collections: the Crux of Orthodoxy Ana Sáez-Hidalgo Firste reade, then marke, then practise that is good, For without vse, we drinke but Lethe flood. Geoffrey Whitney, Emblems, 1586 … Damnant quia oderunt; oderunt, quia ignorant. Bernardo de Sandoval, Index librorum prohibitorum, 1612 ⸪ 1 Orthodoxy and Heterodoxy Side-by-Side* The Spanish inquisitor Gaspar de Quiroga (1512–1594), in the second rule of his Index librorum prohibitorum, established that Prohibense los libros de los heresiarchas: assi los que del dicho año de mil y quinientos y quinze à esta parte han sido inuentores, o renouadores de las heregias, como las cabeças y capitanes de ellas […]. Pero no se prohiben los libros de Catholicos, aunque anden i esten insertos en ellos los tractados de los dichos Heresiarchas, contra quien escriuen.1 * I’m grateful to Victor Houliston, James E. Kelly, Christopher Warner, Maurice Whitehead and R.F. Yeager for their insightful readings of my essay. Special thanks are also due to José Luis del Valle Merino, director of the library of El Escorial, and to the rest of the staff, for their help during my research. 1 Quiroga Gaspar de, Index et catalogus librorum prohibitorum (Madrid: Alphonso Gómez, 1583) 1r–v; my translation from Spanish to English, here and elsewhere (unless otherwise stated). This rule is based on the Tridentine Index (1564). 156 Sáez-Hidalgo [The books by heresiarchs, both those who have invented or renewed heresies in and after 1515, and their leaders and champions are forbidden […]. But books by Catholics, even if they include treatises by those heresiarchs against whom they write, are not forbidden.] Quiroga, as Grand Inquisitor, had papal-delegated authority to fight heterodoxy through an apparatus of institutional repression, a branch of which was dedicated to controlling and suppressing those books that fell in the category defined by the Church of Rome as ‘heretic’. This qualification to the prohibition of deviant texts was necessary so that Catholics alluding to their religious opponents would not find their own books cancelled. This was a special concern for all those who had to engage in religious polemics, because often the best way to counter-argue the ‘heretics’ was by reprinting their ideas, texts and arguments verbatim. English Catholics were particularly in need of this rule. They were among the first who, after the spread of Reformation, received a special dispensation from the pope to write controversy against specific Protestant arguments and concepts.2 While suffering the Elizabethan ban on the publication and trade of Catholic books, it was their situation of persecution and the need to refute their religious opponents that persuaded authorities like Claudio Acquaviva to direct that the printing press might be used by the English mission ‘for the defence of the faith and the edification of Catholics’.3 Such a directive boosted what had already begun to be a vigorous underground activity of production and dissemination of books in England. Seminaries in exile had a crucial role in this activity: not only were they producers and users of these materials for their training in controversy, but their staff and students were also part of the networks that facilitated the distribution – and often the smuggling – of many of these volumes, both in print and manuscript form.4 2 Walsham A., “The Spider and the Bee: The Perils of Printing for Refutation in Early Tudor England”, in King J.N. (ed.), Tudor Books and Readers: Materiality and the Construction of Meaning (Cambridge: 2010) 163–190, here 175. 3 McCoog T. M., “‘Guiding Souls to Goodness and Devotion’: Clandestine Publications and the English Jesuit Mission”, in Bela T. – Calma C. – Rzegocka J. (eds.), Publishing Subversive Texts in Elizabethan England and the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth (Leiden: 2016) 91–109, here 108. 4 On the role of English colleges in Spain in the dissemination and production of texts related to their mission, see Sáez-Hidalgo A., “English Recusant Controversy in Spanish Print Culture: Dissemination, Popularization, Fictionalization”, in Chambers L. and O’Connor T. (eds.), Forming Catholic Communities: Irish, Scots and English College Networks in Europe, 1568–1918 (Leiden: 2018) 201–231. Chambers’ and O’Connor’s book provides a very complete view on colleges in exile in the early modern period. More specific on the connection of the English 157Use and Reuse of English Books in Anglo-Spanish Collections This essay will study the co-existence of orthodox and heterodox material in a copy of The Second Part of Christian Exercise now at the Royal Library of El Escorial, in Spain. Annotations and markings left in it by various hands cast light on the reception of English books in Spain, as well as on the channels facilitating their dissemination. No less importantly, the marked volume offers clear and unique evidence of how Catholics in exile dealt with their difficult circumstances by repurposing such texts as came to hand, not only Catholic, but also Protestant texts. Although their engagement with texts of the ‘other’ might be expected to be overtly hostile and combative, this essay testifies to a wider range of practical-minded reading practices in response to the exigencies of the situation of exile and persecution when it came to books. The Royal library of El Escorial is a good instance of how the coexistence of the orthodox and heterodox travelled beyond the British Isles to the Iberian Peninsula. There is, among its holdings, a notable number of English works, both of Catholic and Protestant origin. Thanks to the networks of English Colleges on the Continent, these books ended up on the shelves of what Luis Gómez Canseco has described as a ‘reproducción en miniatura de la España teológica del XVI y de sus polémicas religiosas’5 [a miniature reproduction of sixteenth-century theological Spain and its religious polemics]. Though largely referring to the conflicting Spanish Counter-reformation groups, Gómez Canseco notes the existence of footprints of Erasmian humanism in the library of El Escorial, the monastery founded by Philip II as a major propagandistic device to proclaim Philip’s power, his political, military, and religious – i.e., Catholic – power.6 Yet, somewhat counterintuitively, despite his projected personal image as bulwark of Catholicism, Philip imagined a library replete with universal, and therefore inclusive, knowledge, opening the doors to all kinds of topics, ideologies and beliefs. Hence, a large variety of English titles appear in the collection: from histories like William Camden’s Britannia to medical treatises (Timothy Bright’s Therapeutica) or language handbooks (John Cheke’s De pronuntiatione graecae);7 from some of the central works of the Elizabethan mission and the Spanish context is McCoog T.M., The Society of Jesus in Ireland, Scotland and England, 1589–1597. Building the Faith of St Peter upon the King of Spain’s Monarchy (Leiden: 2012). 5 Gómez Canseco L., El humanismo después de 1600: Pedro de Valencia (Sevilla: 1993) 36. 6 Ibidem 162ff. The main source of this Erasmian influence was the humanist Benito Arias Montano, who was one of the earliest librarians at El Escorial. See also Gonzalo SánchezMolero J.L., “La biblioteca de Arias Montano en El Escorial”, in Maestre Maestre J.M. et al. (eds.), Benito Arias Montano y los humanistas de su tiempo, vol. 1 (Mérida: 2006) 91–110. 7 Camden William, Britannia (Frankfurt, John Wechel: 1590); Bright Timothy, Therapeutica (Frankfurt, John Wechel: 1589); Cheke John, De pronuntiatione graecae (Basel: Nicholas Episcopius jr.: 1555). 158 Sáez-Hidalgo Established Church, like Foxe’s Actes and monuments (popularly known as the Book of Martyrs) and the Booke of common prayer,8 to others at the heart of Catholic orthodoxy, among them books by the famous controversialists Thomas Stapleton and Nicholas Sander, or by the leaders of the English mission, William Allen and Robert Persons.9 Given that there was no restriction on the acquisition or inclusion of new titles into the Escorial library, it was part of the job of the prior of the monastery and the director of the library to examine this mixed variety of texts, and decide which to label as forbidden, so that they would not be accessible to unauthorized readers, by placing them in a separate room, rather than censoring and expunging them.10 In this regard, the royal library attests to how unstable the perception of the fine line between orthodoxy and heterodoxy could be. This can be clearly illustrated in the works by English authors like Persons, one of the main controversialists in defence of the Catholic faith in England, and actively involved in the establishment of a network of English Catholic Seminaries on the Continent, including Spain.11 While some of his books were incorporated into the collection without any impediment (the so-called ‘Philopater’, as well as a number of texts connected to the English mission),12 others were listed as prohibited, including what is considered to be his main devotional and most widely successful work, The Christian Directory.13 Surprisingly, the main motive for this 8 Foxe John, Actes and monuments (London, Iohn Day: 1563). The Booke of common prayer (London, Christopher Barker: 1578). 9 A brief overview of early modern English books at the Escorial library is provided by Ana Sáez-Hidalgo in “‘Extravagant’ English Books at the Library of El Escorial and the Jesuit Agency”, in Kelly J.E. – Thomas H.J. (eds.), Jesuit Intellectual and Physical Exchange between England and Mainland Europe, c.1580–1789. ‘The World is our House’? (Leiden: 2019) 155–185, here 156–159. 10 Lezcano Tosca H., “Lecturas espirituales prohibidas en la Real Biblioteca de El Escorial (siglo XVI)”, Libros de la Corte.es 6 (2013) 76–120, here 88–90. Many of the books with censored passages had been expunged prior to their incorporation to the library. 11 Persons founded the Colleges of St Alban’s in Valladolid (1589), and St Gregory in Seville (1592). On Persons’s role for the English mission and his works, see Houliston V., Catholic Resistance in Elizabethan England: Robert Persons’s Jesuit Polemic, 1580–1610 (Aldershot: 2007), and Carrafiello M.L., Robert Parsons and English Catholicism, 1580–1610 (Selinsgrove: 1998). 12 These are works edited, compiled or translated by Persons: Relacion que embiaron las religiosas del Monesterio de Sion de Inglaterra (Madrid, biuda de P. Madrigal: 1594), and Relacion de un sacerdote ingles, escrita a Flandes, a un cavallero de su tierra, desterrado por ser catolico (Madrid, Pedro Madrigal: 1592). 13 The copy at the Royal library is from the third edition: A christian directorie guiding men to their salvation devided into three boores [i.e. bookes] (Louan, Laurence Kellam: 1598). 159Use and Reuse of English Books in Anglo-Spanish Collections prohibition has to do, not so much with the kind of devotion encouraged by Persons, but rather with other books that were concurrently acquired for the royal library and listed as forbidden at El Escorial. One such is The Second part of the Booke of Christian exercise, appertayning to Resolution or a Christian directory, guiding all men vnto theyr saluation.14 Though in appearance a continuation of Persons’s Christian Directory, it is however a Protestant reformulation, designed to turn to Protestant advantage the popularity of Persons’s original text. It was unlikely to be missed by the censor, whose zeal for orthodoxy would however put both texts into the same category. This coexistence of orthodox and heterodox texts is the background against which this essay intends to study the Escorial copy of the spurious Christian Directory – The Second part of the Booke of Christian exercise, a volume of particular interest because it has been heavily annotated. The marks and annotations in the book will help us explore the manner in which readers dealt with religious otherness. 2 Robert Persons, Turned Heterodox Before proceeding to the analysis of the volume, however, it is helpful to review the convoluted story of Persons’s Christian Directory. Having written the introduction to the English translation of Gaspar Loarte’s Essercitio della vita cristiana,15 the English Jesuit decided to expand it into a complete work in order ‘to persuade a Christian by name, to become a trewe Christian in deed, at the least, in resolution of mynde’.16 The resulting book was published anonymously in 1582 with the title First booke of the Christian exercise, appertayning to resolution. VVherein are layed downe the causes & reasons that should moue a man to resolue hym selfe to the seruice of God, popularly known as ‘Resolution’.17 Brad G. Gregory has adroitly summarized what came next: 14 The Second part of the Booke of Christian exercise, appertayning to Resolution or a Christian directory, guiding all men vnto theyr saluation (London, Iohn Charlewood: 1592). 15 Loarte Gaspar, The Exercise of a Christian Life, trans. Stephen Brinkley (London, W. Carter: 1579). 16 I use Victor Houliston’s edition here and elsewhere, unless some specific aspects of the Escorial copy need to be referred to: Robert Persons S.J.: the Christian directory (1582): The first booke of the Christian exercise, appertayning to resolution (Leiden; Boston: 1998). On Persons’s initial plan for the Directory, see his letter to Claudio Acquaviva on 12 February 1585 (Persons Robert, The Correspondence and Unpublished Papers of Robert Persons, SJ. 1, 1574–1588, ed. V. Houliston [Toronto: 2017], 564–570). 17 Published in Rouen in Persons’s Press. 160 Sáez-Hidalgo [Persons’s Resolution] was so much appreciated by a Puritan minister and preacher, Edmund Bunny, that the latter issued his own, amended version of the work in 1584. It is a treatise of more than 400 pages which attempts to persuade its readers to live diligent Christian lives. Perhaps the most popular devotional treatise in late sixteenth-century England, there is at least anecdotal evidence that it had considerable impact. Its publication record is impressive: previous to 1600, Parsons’s [sic] version had been published four times, the full text of Bunny’s version twenty-four times, and a partial edition of Bunny’s another six, a total of thirty-four editions in eighteen years.18 Bunny’s Booke of Christian exercise was an appropriation – or, as he put it, ‘perusal’ – of the Resolution, though not as radical as one might expect in the context of the harsh polemics and controversies between Catholics and Protestants.19 Rather than implementing major changes by replacing certain words and phrases, or putting them in parenthesis, Bunny’s method worked at a microlevel to redirect the reading of the text.20 As has been variously studied, this type of alteration, while showing some basic doctrinal disparities between the two churches,21 is revealing of both Persons’s and Bunny’s common interest in ensuring that readers/believers were rigorous in their practice of religion.22 18 Gregory B.S., “The ‘True and Zealouse Service of God’: Robert Parsons, Edmund Bunny, and the First Booke of the Christian Exercise”, Journal of Ecclesiastical History 45 (1994) 238–268, here 239. V. Houliston has studied Persons’s process of composition of the Christian Directory in Catholic Resistance in Elizabethan England 23–45. 19 Booke of Christian exercise, appertaining to resolution […] by R.P. Perused, and accompanied now with a treatise tending to pacification: by Edm. Bunny (London, N. Newton: 1584). 20 As Houliston has pointed out, Bunny ‘welcomed an apparent suspension of controversialist hostility, and assumed a common goal of sincerity in religion’ (“Why Robert Persons Would not Be Pacified. Edmund Bunny’s Theft of The Book of Resolution”, in McCoog T.M. (ed.), The Reckoned Expense: Edmund Campion and the Early English Jesuits (Woodbridge: 1996) 159–177, here 169); Sullivan C., “Cannibalizing Persons’s Christian directorie, 1582”, Notes & Queries 41 (1994) 445–446; Houliston V., “Persons Cannibalized Again”, Notes & Queries 44 (1997) 32–33; Corthell R., “Writing Back: Robert Persons and the Early Modern English Catholic Subject”, Philological Quarterly 87, 3–4 (2008) 277–297. 21 It’s generally agreed that these differences are relatively mild. Houliston boils them down to different notions of exercise (“Why Robert Persons would not be pacified” 173). For a detailed list of Bunny’s changes to the text, see R. McNulty’s collation of Persons and Bunny (Robert Parsons’s The First Booke of the Christian Exercise (1582). An Edition and a study, Ph.D. dissertation, Columbia University: 1955), and more recently, Houliston’s critical edition, which includes all of Bunny’s modifications. 22 Gregory, “The ‘True and Zealouse Service of God’” 252ff. Houliston “Why Robert Persons Would not Be Pacified” 169ff. R. McNulty has argued that actually Persons intended to 167Use and Reuse of English Books in Anglo-Spanish Collections 4 Use and Reuse of the Heterodox from Spain Clues to the reading and usage of the volume are offered by several annotating hands. The first two appear on the verso of the flyleaf, translating the title of the work: ‘la 2a parte de un libro / inglese llamado / la Resolution / [2nd hand]] o cristiano directorio que guia / los ho[mbr]es a su saluacion’, a rendering that was probably used to make the abovementioned list of El Escorial forbidden books, put together in 1635. Other notes have a similarly pragmatic purpose. In several places the volume is mis-paginated, and one of the readers has noticed that it is not a printer’s typo: the quire starting after page 312 must have been wrongly folded, so a note warns ‘see 4 leafes after’, and at the end of the quire, before page 321, we read again ‘see 4 leaves before’.53 Whether these notes are a reminder for the reader’s own guidance or for other possible readers is difficult to tell, but in any case, they show an attentive and thorough usage of the book. An equivalent thoroughness is perceptible in the rest of the annotations in the book. Underlinings and crossing-outs of individual words or phrases, insertions and corrections of one or several words, sometimes between the lines and sometimes in the margins, transposition of elements and some other readers’ marks, all of which show attentive reading of The Second part. Unfortunately, nowhere in the text can any indication be found of the purpose of such an extensive apparatus of hundreds of annotations, written in a hand perceptibly different from the one translating the title in the flyleaf. A number of factors suggest that the annotations very likely were made before the volume was incorporated into the Escorial library. Clearly, they were not part of an inquisitional expunging. As we have seen, The Second part was never included in any of the Holy Office indexes, and therefore no official guidelines existed for its censorship. It is certainly true that it is possible to find other instances of purged books that had never been on the index librorum prohibitorum. The most famous probably being the so-called ‘Inquisition Folio’ of Shakespeare’s works, now at the Folger Library. This is a censored copy of a second folio that at one time belonged to the library of the Royal English College of St Alban, in Valladolid, Spain. According to a manuscript note on the title-page,54 the book was expunged by William Sankey, who took the initiative 53 The pages appear in the following sequence: 317, 318, 319, 320, 313, 314, 315, 316, therefore the first two leaves of the quire had been folded onto the back of it. The same happens with the quire after page 328. 54 ‘Opus auctoritate Sancti officij permissum et expurgatum eadem auctoritate per Guilielmum Sanchaeum e Soc<ieta>te Jesu’. Mr. VVilliam Shakespeares comedies, histories, and tragedies (London: Thomas Cotes, 1632). See the catalogue of the Folger library: http://luna.folger.edu/luna/servlet/s/h749j2. 168 Sáez-Hidalgo following his own interpretation of the Holy Office guidelines as to what is orthodox or heterodox.55 That statement on the title-page renders it an officially acknowledged inquisitorial intervention. The Escorial copy of The Second part has no such statement, however, nor the traditional ‘visus’ note indicating its examination by the authorities and the date, either [Fig. 7.1]. Moreover, the method used to cross out passages in the Escorial Second part is very different 55 Cummings B., “Shakespeare and the Inquisition”, in Holland P. (ed.), Shakespeare Survey 65 (2012) 306–322. figure 7.1 The Second part of the Booke of Christian exercise (London, Iohn Charlwood for Simon Waterson: 1592) title-page. Royal Library of the Monastery of El Escorial ©Patrimonio Nacional 169Use and Reuse of English Books in Anglo-Spanish Collections from the Inquisition’s: The Holy Office required that the expunged text be completely obliterated. Censors resorted to crossing out the lines in such a way as to render the text impossible to read it at all and even to excise passages.56 By contrast, the crossed-out (and underlined) elements in the Escorial copy of The Second part are struck through with a single, thin horizontal line that does not prevent the original to be read. Indeed, a replacement in the margin often accompanies such strike-throughs – a practice altogether inconsistent with the methods traditionally used by the Inquisition. These marks and annotations are thus a key to the kind of reading that the Escorial copy of The Second part received. Far from censoring the text, such markings show a reader or readers reacting and responding to the text thoughtfully, and in several ways. Conceivably, given that the book belonged to English Catholics in exile before it reached the shelves of El Escorial, these marks and annotations might evince an exercise in refutation,57 a practice common in print and in manuscript, which usually entailed presenting the original text and the response to it side by side.58 Certainly, in the Escorial copy of The Second part more than one deletion and its corresponding annotation would be compatible with this possibility. In the section discussing ‘the ende and cause’ of man’s creation, for example, the text reads: why, and wherefore, and to what end, [man] was created & sent hether into this world? What to do? […] And then shall he finde, that for no other cause, matter, or end, but onely to serue God in thys lyfe, and by that seruice to enioy heauen, and euerlasting saluation in the lyfe, to come.59 The anonymous hand has underlined ‘enioy’, writing ‘gaine’ in the margin as a substitute for it. This recurs three pages later, once with identical lexical pairs (gain/enjoy), and once to correct ‘possess’, with ‘gaine’ written in the 56 This may be the most habitual method, although more radical measures were sometimes carried out, from gluing pieces of paper to cutting out the pages, as in the Folger Inquisition folio, where Mesure for Measure is entirely cut off. 57 On the practice of disputation at English Colleges, see McCoog T.M., “‘Playing the Champion’: The Role of Disputation in the Jesuit Mission”, in McCoog, The Reckoned Expense 119–140. 58 Walsham “The Spider and the Bee” 163–190. This format somehow reminds the notion of book usage described by Stephen B. Dobranski, that is, books that were specially prepared to be completed by readers: Readers and Authorship in Early Modern England (Cambridge – New York: 2005). 59 The Second part (1592) 157. 170 Sáez-Hidalgo margin, in the phrase ‘when of possessing Gods eternall kingdom’.60 These corrections seem intended to contest a more Protestant view of salvation and provide instead the Catholic notion that heaven can only be won as a result of one’s actions. Similarly, this same notion seems to be behind one of the longest passages cancelled and then replaced by a different text in the margin. In the section intended to help the reader discern ‘whether [a man] be a true Christian or not’, the first point urges belief in the Bible and the mysteries of Jesus, his disciples and the Church, and to perswade & assure himselfe, of the forgiueness of all hys sinnes, and of the fatherly loue and fauour of GOD towardes hym in Christ Jesus, whereby he is adopted to be the sonne of God, and heire of euerlasting life.61 This passage is entirely crossed out, and the anonymous hand has written in the margin a new version: […] performe in sincerity the rules and precepts of life, prescribed vnto Christians for direction of their actions.62 Again, this modification emphasizes the necessity of good actions as a requisite for salvation defended by Catholics, versus the Protestant notion found in the Second part, that God’s ‘fatherly love and favour’ can be enough – if not, indeed, all. Other marginalia convey a similar Catholic response to the text of The Second part. For instance, the terms ‘repentance’ and ‘repent’ are frequently eliminated and replaced by ‘penance’ and ‘do penance’,63 thus encapsulating in a verbal difference a major doctrinal disagreement between the two creeds. Also, a reference to the Papal Curia makes its appearance in the margin, where ‘The sea Apostolicke’ replaces ‘that rule’: 60 Ibidem 160. 61 Ibidem 423. 62 Ibidem. 63 See, for instance, on Jesus’ divinity: ‘Let vs now compare the Proclamation of Iesus, whose enterance [sic] and Praeface was: Paenitentia[m] agite, Repent yee’ (354), where ‘Repent’ is replaced in the margin by ‘doe ye pena[n]ce’. Also, The Second part says on the Christ’s Sermon on the Mount: ‘he talketh of nothing els [sic] but of vertuous lyfe, pouertie, meekenes, iustice, purity, sorrow for sinne, patience in suffering, contempt of ryches, forgiuing of iniuries, fasting, prayer, repentance […]’ (448–449); the last word is cancelled and the margin reads: ‘penaunce’. 171Use and Reuse of English Books in Anglo-Spanish Collections Of the second fountaine are deriued other qualities conformable to that humor, as are the denying of iurisdiction & authority in our Superiours, the contempt of Prelates, the exaggeration of the faults & defects of our Gouernours, the impugnation of al byshoplike dignities or Ecclesiasticall eminencie, and especially of that rule wherunto appertaineth the correction of such like offenders […].64 [Fig. 7.2.] Importantly, this passage discusses the origin of heresy. The intervention occurs at precisely the point at which the denial of church officials is designated a source of heresy. However, the fact that this and other passages in the Escorial copy of this Protestant appropriation of Persons’s text only receive such verbally restrained reactions – if any – when they are particularly loaded with 64 The Second part (1592) 446; my emphasis. figure 7.2 The Second part of the Booke of Christian exercise (London, Iohn Charlwood for Simon Waterson: 1592) 446. Royal Library of the Monastery of El Escorial ©Patrimonio Nacional 172 Sáez-Hidalgo doctrinal significance, is uncharacteristic of refutation. The argumentative tone and polemical approach commonly found in refutational annotations is absent, nor is there any statement indicating a controversialist purpose. The difference can be seen readily by comparing Persons’s disputatious reaction to what he considered as Bunny’s mangling of the Book of Resolution in the preface to his Christian Directory: And this shameles shift of corrupting other mens bookes, is an old occupation of heretiques from the beginning, as may appeare by the often complaintes of most ancient fathers, whos workes they were not ashamed to infect and corrupt whiles they were yet liuing.65 Or: in a section dedicated to resisting sin, Persons disputes Bunny’s view in the apostille, giving a documented response: Bunney doubteth vvhether S. Anthonie had sufficient groundvvorke of his doinge; but Athanasius doubted not.66 Persons reacts similarly to Bunny’s alterations of certain terms to make them more acceptable for Protestants: wher I talke of Catholique preestes that heare confessions; he maketh me saie, men that be skilful to giue Counsail, &c. […] In like maner page 368. When I saie, penance & satisfaction. He maketh me saie, toile of amendment […] turning euery wher the wordes penance and satisfaction into repentance.67 Persons’s irate reactions to Bunny’s appropriations illustrate the character of disputation practice as it had become established after the ‘Great Controversy’ between the Bishop John Jewel and Thomas Harding, and perpetuated for 65 Persons, A Christian directorie (1585) Preface 9v. Persons’s preface is a rebuttal of Bunny’s book developed through an extensive and detailed analysis of Bunny’s techniques, from the deletions to the usage of parenthesis, among other alterations. 66 Ibidem 329. The comment is placed next to the following text: ‘in this combat of resisting sinne, diuers other did afterward take in hand that strait course of life, wherof we read with admiration in auncie[n]t writers, as S. Anthonie, whos life is recorded by holy Athanasius’. 67 Persons, A Christian directorie (1585) Preface 11r. 173Use and Reuse of English Books in Anglo-Spanish Collections decades in both oral and written dialectics.68 Clearly then, the annotations in the Escorial copy of The Second part aspire to a very different character and tone. Besides the substitution of terms, phrases, or, occasionally, brief passages, the anonymous hands have marked the text in several other ways, with insertions, transposition of elements, underlinings, as noted. These nonverbal interventions can hardly be considered a refutation of the text. Taken together, the verbal and non-verbal interventions with their generally understated doctrinal content in the Escorial copy of The Second part offer a broader scope of readerly responses than does standard controversy.69 Nevertheless, the annotations are more than mere reading notes, inasmuch as they modify (even if they do not directly rebut) the text of The Second part. In that regard, these readerly markings can be considered evidence of the kind of readers’ engagement that William H. Sherman has shown was common practice in the period, what he terms ‘active reading’: to ‘mak[e] books their own by making marks in and around them and by using them for getting on in the world’, thus ‘transform[ing] one printed book into another’.70 In precisely this way the readers and annotators of the Escorial Second part ‘customized’ this Protestant book with a wide display of marks, investing it with an unquestionable Catholic essence that undoubtedly suited their own worldview. Beyond the above-mentioned emendations, a very important part of the customization of the Escorial The Second part relies on, on the one hand, nonverbal interventions like underlinings, crossing-outs with no suggested emendation, or transposition marks; and, on the other, on smaller elements, from individual words to morphemes. Among the former – the non-verbal marks – the symbols indicating transposition of words are outstanding inasmuch as they strongly call to mind proofreading activities. Actually, some of the pages in the volume visually resemble those to be found in what Anthony Grafton calls ‘the kingdoms of error’, printing houses where teams of correctors had a prominent role in emending typographical errors.71 68 Joshua R., Public Religious Disputation in England, 1558–1626 (Surrey; Burlington: 2014) esp. ch. 1; Questier M., Conversion, Politics and Religion in England, 1580–1625 (Cambridge: 1996); Milward P., Religious Controversies of the Elizabethan Age: A Survey of Printed Sources (Lincoln: 1977). 69 This is particularly so when it comes to underlinings and transpositions, where the doctrinal weight can hardly be appreciated. 70 Sherman W.H., Used Books: Marking Readers in Renaissance England (Philadelphia: 2010) 3, 7. 71 Grafton A., The Culture of Correction in Renaissance Europe (London: 2011, ch. 2. (78ff)). It is interesting to note the similarities with some of the images of proofs of shops like Plantin’s or Moretus’ with those in the Escorial Second part. For a more literary approach to typographical errors, both as part of the process of book production and as platform 174 Sáez-Hidalgo A look at the one of the pages of the volume can illustrate not only the visual similarity of the corrected page but also the detail and variety of the corrections: the figure [Fig. 7.3a] shows the deletion of pronouns (‘S. Paul himself’), of indefinite articles (‘in an open audience’), transposition of words (inversion of the phrase ‘before noted’), substitution of individual words (‘forged’ for ‘feygned’; ‘those’ for ‘theyr’), and the correction of verbal forms (‘protested’ instead of ‘protesteth’).72 While the meticulousness and punctiliousness in these corrections seems to point at the ‘minute scrutiny of the texts’ typical of the ‘sharp-eyed critics’, as Grafton calls the proof-readers,73 it is obvious that the marks and annotations on these pages are not done in preparation for printing, as the work has already been printed, distributed, and a copy of the book has even travelled beyond the British Isles into the Iberian Peninsula. Therefore, it is the use of that printed book what we witness through the marks and annotations – here I am following Sherman’s terminology for annotations as traces of ‘use’ of the book.74 The question is obviously what kind of use leaves traces of such a thorough correction and to what purpose. Grafton points at the systems of gifts and exchange as driving the zeal for correction in printing houses. Neither writers nor patrons were willing to have a book widely disseminated with a text that was inaccurate or distorted by the number of errors. In this case, it is not the producer, but the user who would not tolerate the errors. And although in appearance this situation might be similar to that of readers responding to lists of mistakes and appeals to correct them described by Adam Smyth,75 here errors have a new dimension. Errors in a religious work, and in the context of the battle of religious books, are particularly momentous. The wrong word could lead to the wrong belief, a concern with the exactitude of the letter that goes back centuries in time, in particular among Christians.76 That is actually what the usage of this book is about: the correction of what is not exact, of what is wrong, and therefore heterodox. The hands that annotate it, in their zeal for correction, apply the thoroughness of the collating techniques devised by the for the literary authors’ creativity, see Smyth A., Material Texts in Early Modern England (Cambridge: 2018) 75–136. 72 The Second part (1592) 358. 73 Grafton, The Culture of Correction 214. 74 Sherman, Used Books xiii. 75 Smyth, Material Texts 92–98. 76 The fear of misinterpretation lead to an anxiety for the “sensus literalis” of the Bible which was central to the controversies on the translation of the Bible. See the classic study on the topic Schwarz W., Principles and Problems of Biblical Translation: Some Reformation Controversies and their Background (Cambridge: 1955). 175Use and Reuse of English Books in Anglo-Spanish Collections figure 7.3a The Second part of the Booke of Christian exercise (London, Iohn Charlwood for Simon Waterson: 1592) 358. Royal Library of the Monastery of El Escorial ©Patrimonio Nacional 176 Sáez-Hidalgo philological work of the humanists.77 Here, instead of a critical comparison of a number of manuscripts in an attempt to reach the best textual testimony/ reading, the correctors already have a sense of the original and the distortions it has gone through. Thus, the concern with the textuality78 and the literalness of the original is central to the English Catholic annotators79 who corrected the Escorial copy of the Protestant Second part, aware as they did so of the fact that the original to collate it with was Persons’s Christian Directory. A comparison of the page 358 seen above, with a transcription of the corresponding text in Persons makes it evident: […] way when he went to persecute. Of which miracle, S. Paul protested in euery place afterward, and once especiallie, in open audience and iudgement before Agrippa the king, and Festus Gouernour of Iurie. Thes miracles and manie moe are recorded by S. Luke; wherof some part were sene by him self, and the rest most euident to all the worlde, as done in publique before infinite witnesses. Neither is it possible they could be forged, for that (as in the like I haue noted before,) it had bene most easye to haue refelled them, and therby to haue discredited the whole proceedings of Christian religion, in thos first beginnings. As for example; if the miracle of Peters deliuery forth of the […].80 77 Italian humanists, from Leonardo Bruni to Angelo Poliziano made the word the center of knowledge, as Ernesto Grassi has argued (Einführung in philosophische Probleme des Humanismus. Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft (Darmstadt: 1986) 46). See also Rico F., El sueño del humanismo: de Erasmo a Petrarca (Madrid: 2002) 85ff. 78 Richards J. – Schurink F., “The Textuality and Materiality of Reading in Early Modern England”, Huntington Library Quarterly 73, 3 (2010) 345–361. 79 The meticulousness in the transmission and dissemination of texts was a common currency among English Catholics. See for instance Yale University, Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, MS Obsborn a42. 80 Persons, A Christian directorie (1585) 253–254. figure 7.3b 183Use and Reuse of English Books in Anglo-Spanish Collections Jardine L. – Grafton A., “‘Studied for Action’: How Gabriel Harvey Read His Livy”, Past & Present 129 (1990) 30–78. 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