^{Note 1 in page 587} Vida de Don Quijote y Sancho (Austral, 1938), p. 253. Hereafter called Vida.

^{Note 2 in page 587} El otro y El hermano Juan (Austral, 1946), p. 75. Hereafter called Otro.

^{Note 3 in page 587} “En torno al casticismo,” in Ensayos (Madrid, 1945), i 1020. I chose this quotation out of the ones collected because it contains redañws as well as entrañas. Redano (omentum), being a technical, anatomical term, would probably not have come so easily to Unamuno's mind unless he had consciously resolved to view the matter intestinally. To language he applies also tripos, tuitano, meollo, came viva.

^{Note 4 in page 588} La Tula (Madrid, 1921), p. 180. Hereafter called Tula.

^{Note 5 in page 588} Antología poética, 2nd ed. (Buenos Aires, 1946), p. 92. Hereafter called Antologia.

^{Note 6 in page 588} Abel Sánchez, 2nd ed. (Madrid, 1928), p. 202.

^{Note 7 in page 588} Teresa (Madrid, 1923?), p. 127.

^{Note 8 in page 589} The use of the word entrañas to mean soul goes back in written Spanish at least to the mystics. The last verse of “Canción xii” in the Cánlico espirtiual of San Juan de la Cruz is “Que tengo en mis entranas dibuxadas!” The author explains this verse as follows: “Dize que les tiene en sus entranas dibuxadas, es á sauer, en su alma segun el entendimiento y la voluntad.” See EX cdntico espirilual, ed. La Leclura (Madrid, 1924), pp. 12, 111. In a later footnote we shall have more to say of the mystics.

^{Note 9 in page 589} Del sentimienlo trdgico de la vida (Austral, 1937), p. 36. Hereafter called Sentimietito.

^{Note 10 in page 589} Niebla, 6th ed. (Austral, 1950), p. 58.

^{Note 11 in page 590} “Las dos madrés,” in Très novelas ejetnplares y un prólogo (Madrid, 1920?), p. 77. Hereafter called Très novelas.

^{Note 12 in page 590} Amor y pedagogla, 3rd ed. (Austral, 1944), p. 91. Hereafter called Amor.

^{Note 13 in page 590} San Manuel Bueno, Márlîr, 3rd ed. (Austral, 1951), p. 71. Hereafter called San Manuel.

^{Note 14 in page 590} Many aspects of the act of creation are expressed in images related to parturition : “partear la verdad” (Niebla, p. 13); “escritores ovíparos” and “escritores viviparos” (Ensayos, i, 597); “[novelas] paridas … casi en una ventregada” (San Manuel, p. 19). In El Crista de Velazquez (Austral, 1947) Calvary is said to give birth to the Cross:

^{Note 15 in page 592} Augusto Pérez often examines the relationship between psychology and physiology: “Pero, ies que la psicologîa, y sobre todo la femenina, es algo mâs que fisiologia, ο si se quiere psicologîa fisiolôgica?” (Niébla, p. 130). In another passage, intended to be humorous, Augusto provides us with a direct correlation between the faculties of the soul and the organs of the body: “Y cabeza, corazôn y estômago son las très facultades del alma que otros Uaman inteligencia, sentimiento y voluntad” (p. 126). Later, the doctor called to his deathbed remarked: “El corazon, el estômago y la cabeza son Jos très una sola y misma cosa” (p. 164). In Unamuno's writing one finds many examples of this kind of talk about the relation between flesh and spirit.

^{Note 16 in page 592} In El Cristo de Velazquez all of Part ii, Canto vi, develops the idea that Christ on the Cross dreaded the imminent loss of his earthly body. Unlike most of the other cantos, Canto vi is supported by no Biblical references in the margins. It would appear that Unamuno attributes to Christ his own dread of physical death.

^{Note 17 in page 592} At least once Unamuno expressed strong dissatisfaction with this kind of immortality: “Todo eso de que uno vive en sus hijos, ο en sus obras, ο en el universe, son vagas elucubraciones con que sólo se satisfacen los que padecen de estupidez afectiva …” (Senlimienio, p. 18). If he was not satisfied with it, neither could he abandon it. In these words written about Father Loyson, the procreation of children is equated with the resurrection of the body: “Se salió de la Iglesia para casarse, se casô para tener hijos, para perpetuarse en carne, para asegurar la resurreccion de la carne” (La agonía del cristianismo, Madrid, 1931, p. 180). In the final pages of this paper we shall return to the matter of fleshly immortality.

^{Note 18 in page 593} Also, enlrañas maternales, but we have seen so many examples of entrañas that it docs not seem profitable to start another list.

^{Note 19 in page 595} Julián Marías stresses the non-carnal, spiritual quality of Tula's maternal instincts: “Tula loes todo, es la madré espiritual de los hijos, que sientecomo suyos, masque suyos, porque no son de la carne, y Gertrudis tiene una constante obsesiôn de la pureza” (Miguel de Unamuno, Madrid, 1943, p. 117). But even Tula feels powerfully the animal call of the maternal instinct: “Gertrudis tomo a su sobrinillo, que no hacia sino gemir; encerróse con él en un cuarto y sacando uno de sus pechos secos, uno de sus pechos de doncella que arrebolado todo él le retemblaba como con fiebre—le retemblaba por los latidos del corazón—era el derecho—, puso el boton de ese pecho en la flor sonrosada pâlida de la boca del pequeñuelo” (Tula, p. 62). This need for fleshly contact comes out in Tula's care of another of her spiritual children (see pp. 158–159). We might remember, too, the animal fury of Raque's hunger for motherhood in “Las dos madrés.” In Unamuno's world there can be, it seems, no complete sublimation of the carnal.

^{Note 20 in page 596} In Niebla, p. 74, and in the prologue to “El hermano Juan” (Olro, p. 74).

^{Note 21 in page 596} “La formatión del pensamiento de Unamuno. Una experiencia decisiva: La crisis de 1897,” HR, xviii (1950), 219.

^{Note 22 in page 596} Cancionero: diario poêlico (Buenos Aires, 1953), p. 468. Hereafter called Cancionero.

^{Note 23 in page 597} At least once Unamuno did return for a while to the religious practices of his childhood in a vain attempt to regain his lost faith. See p. 219 of Sanchez Barbudo's article cited in n. 21.

^{Note 24 in page 598} In addition to the article already cited, see “La formatión del pensamiento de Unamuno. Sobre la conceptión de Paz en la guerra,” insula, IS Oct. 1949; “El misterio de la per-sonalidad en Unamuno. Câmo se hace una novela y otras obras del destierro,” in Résista de la Universidad de Buenos Aires, No. 15 (1950), pp. 201–254; “Los ultimos ailos de Unamuno. San Manuel Bueno y El vicario saboyano de Rousseau,” HR, xix (1951), 281–322.

^{Note 25 in page 598} In regard to himself Unamuno did not always distinguish between the desire to believe and the ability to believe. In regard to Pascal, however, he is very careful to separate the two and what he says of Pascal may fairly be applied to himself: “La vida intima de Pascal aparece a nuestros ojos como una tragedia. Tragedia que puede traducirse en aquellas palabras del Evangelio ‘Creo, ayuda a mi incredulidad’ (Marcos, ix, 23). Lo que evidentc-mente no es propiamente créer, sino querer créer” (La agoma del cristianismo, p. 160).

^{Note 26 in page 601} Hector Hawton, The Feasl of Unreason (London, 1952), p. 34. Not a single paragraph of this book on existentialism is devoted to Unamuno. He is mentioned, however, in a passage worth quoting: “ ‘Existential truth’ is arrived at by ‘thinking with the blood.‘ Its reasons are those of the viscera, or the heart, and not of the intellect. D. H. Lawrence expresses this much more lucidly than most of the existentialists, except Unamuno” (p. 216).

^{Note 27 in page 601} Obviously it would throw this article out of all proportion to attempt here to illustrate the tradition. Nevertheless, it may be profitable to write a few lines about the mystics, to whom Unamuno may be particularly indebted for some of the language which we have been considering. Like Unamuno, the mystics make figurative use of words like entrañas, redaños, regazo, pecho, etc. There can be no doubt, however, that Unamuno uses them with much greater frequency than do the mystics. In Las Moradas Santa Teresa compares a soul without prayer to a palsied body (ed. La Lectura, p. 10). As we have already seen, “palsied” (perlesiada) is precisely one of the words Unamuno applies to the soul. If space permitted, it would be easy to quote roughly parallel images of lactation, physical union, and others of similar nature. Nevertheless, comparison of the intent with which the mystics and Unamuno use such metaphorical language reveals abysmal differences.

Except when speaking of the resurrection of the body (carne, in Spanish), the mystics almost always speak of the flesh as the enemy of the soul: “Muchas veces acontesce que el espiritu levanta al anima â las cosas soberanas, empero con importunas tentaciones le da combate la carne” (Francisco de Osuna, Tercet abecedario espiritual, ed, Ν?'ΛΕ, p. 550). One of the virtues of inner prayer is that it brings sensuality under the control of reason: “este ejercicio recoge la sensualidad debajo del mando de la razon …” (p. 383). The flesh must be rejected if the soul is to be united with God: “que apartase en ellos todo lo que es corpôreo en el alma y la dejase en puro espiritu para que se pudiese juntar en esta union celestial con el espiritu increado …” (Las Moradas, p. 287). Statements like these may be found in almost all the mystics. In contrast to them I think it fair to let the following statements represent Unamuno : Seldom, if ever, does he speak of the flesh as inimical to the soul. In him there is a deep and powerful sensuousness which he seeks to exalt rather than subordinate to reason. Far from rejecting flesh, he would cling to it forever if he could.

The mystics do not use fleshly images to suggest that the spirit has something of the carnal about it or that the soul is irrevocably bound to the body. With them these images are often merely devices by which to speak of the life of the spirit: “Ya he dicho que anque se ponen estas comparaciones, porque no hay otras más a propósito, que se entienda que aquí no hay memoria de cuerpo mâs que si el alma no estuviese en él … (Las Moradas, p. 282). In Unamuno fleshly images play a substantive rôle.

^{Note 28 in page 602} “La voluntad de estilo de Unamuno y su interpretatión de España,” in Cuadernos americanos, xii (1953), 117.

^{Note 29 in page 602} Epistolario a Clarín (Madrid, 1941), p. 103.

^{Note 30 in page 603} Anyone thoroughly familiar with Unamuno's writing knows his strong inclination to verbal play: