Visor de obras.

  —32→     —33→  

The document here published gives information on a woman with whom Galdós apparently had a relationship lasting several years. It is a letter written to the Catalan novelist and correspondent of Galdós, Narcís Oller.¹³⁸ Its author was J. B. Sitges Grifoll, a personal friend of Oller's, a distinguished civil servant who was Director of Spanish Customs and Excise at the time of writing this letter, and, after his retirement, an amateur historian of some reputation.¹³⁹ The letter is one of a long series from Sitges to Oller among the Narcís Oller papers, now held by the Archivo Municipal de la Ciudad de Barcelona. Oller refers to the document in a note to his Memòries Literàries:

Certa relació amb això té l'extensa narració que em confià un dia i que guardo amb sa correspondència, de cert episodi molt dramàtic de la vida d'un famosíssim novellista espanyol: amic meu encara vivent; episodi que, tot i que jo el voldria donar a conèixer a vostè per l'interès que li despertaria, em guardaré prou de reproduir aquí ni a revelar-li de paraula, per raons de delicadesa que vostè comprèn molt bé.140

Nevertheless, to the best of my knowledge, no one has since referred to it nor have its contents been critically examined.¹⁴¹ It is wrapped in a paper-band which is untorn and which bears in Oller's handwriting the words «Episodio de la vida íntima de mi amigo Galdós, interesantísimo».

The reference number of the document is N.O. -1-1825. I have modernised orthography and accentuation.

Director General de Aduanas Madrid, 16 de Marzo 1902 Sr. D. Narciso Oller Barcelona Mi querido amigo: debo a V, pues se lo he ofrecido, la relación de cuánto sé acerca de una española judía que ha tenido durante muchos años amistad muy apretada con un distinguido y popular novelista que debe figurar en el número de los amigos de V. Y como en estos días estoy de huelga a causa de la crisis y de haber pedido mi jubilación, que deseo obtener, allá va el cuento, en el que omitiré nombres porque no vienen al caso.142 Medio siglo ha que llegó a Córdoba un ebanista catalán que se decía carlista acogido al Convenio de Vergara. Se estableció en aquella Ciudad para ejercer su industria; y casó poco después de su llegada una joven del país, concuñada de un sacerdote hombre docto y de honradas costumbres que llegó a canónigo de aquella Catedral. Los negocios del ebanista marchaban mal, por cuyo motivo decidió irse a América con su mujer y así lo hizo. Pasaron doce o catorce años sin que en este lapso de tiempo se tuvieran noticias del matrimonio pues se supo tan sólo que en Cuba no les había ayudado la fortuna y que habían estado en el Brasil, en los Estados Unidos y en otros países de América.   —34→   Después del tiempo indicado volvió a Córdoba la parienta del sacerdote, diciendo que estaba viuda y embarazada y empezó a vivir con desahogo, sin dar a conocer el origen de sus recursos. A los pocos meses aquella mujer dio a luz una niña, y, fue sorprendente, que algunos días antes del parto recibiera una magnífica canastilla para la criatura que iba a nacer y fondos para su manutención, sin que nadie haya averiguado de quién procedía el regalo, ni de dónde se había enviado a Córdoba. Nuestra heroína ignoraba estos detalles que yo la di a conocer y acerca de ellos me ha mareado lo indicible. La niña se bautizó con el nombre de Concepción y el apellido del ebanista,143 que es el que lleva y creció al lado de su madre en situación poco airosa, porque la murmuración se cebaba en la madre, suponiéndose que le habían ocurrido aventuras extrañas y que había hartos misterios en su vida. Perdió el trato de las gentes que se toman por honestas y por estas u otras causas, madre e hija desaparecieron de Córdoba y se cree, aunque no es seguro, que vivieron en Madrid. Volvieron a aparecer en Córdoba hacia el año 1880; pero la conducta un tanto equívoca de la madre, dio motivo a que su pariente el sacerdote le diera sentidas quejas y desaparecieron de nuevo. Entonces, dice la persona que me ha comunicado estas noticias, era Concha una hermosa mujer de facciones correctas y delicadas, rubia, fresca, blanca, bien formada, esbelta, elegante, agradable y simpática. En una palabra [two illegible words] una criatura encantadora. Al año siguiente, 1881, volvió la madre a Córdoba, sola, diciendo que su hija estaba en San Sebastián, donde había quedado enferma, solicitó la protección del sacerdote, que se la negó, vivió precariamente algún tiempo y falleció en un asilo de Córdoba, sin que nadie, ni su hija, acudiera a cerrarla los ojos y sin que ninguna persona haya preguntado después por ella. Desde entonces, nada se ha sabido en Córdoba del paradero de Concha, aunque ésta conoce el fin de su madre. «Era tan buena (me dice en una carta) como escasa de sentido práctico. En su vejez, como el rey moro, suspiró por su patria querida, y se fue a Córdoba con su familia que cristianamente144 y cariñosamente le llevaron a las Hermanitas de los Pobres y allí murió lejos de mí.» «A mí me dejó muy recomendada a una buena gente extraña, que me quisieron y estimaron más de lo que yo merezco.» «Y yo, a mi vez, abandoné a quien me dio abrigo en mi orfandad, para correr en pos del arte... escénico y del amor.» Debió seguir al novelista, ya viviendo con él, ya viviendo en una casa sostenida por él. En los primeros años debió suceder lo narrado con más o menos veracidad en la novela T...145 Afirma Concha que el fondo del libro es rigurosamente exacto. «Hay en él, dice, cartas mías literalmente copiadas y otras fusiladas.» Comprenderá V, amigo mío, que la escabrosidad del asunto me ha impedido enterarme con exactitud de lo que pudo pasar en un lapso de tiempo de unos dieciséis años.146 Sé que durante él hubo riñas entre los dos amigos: que dejaron de verse para luego hacer las paces: que Concha quiso ser actriz y hasta figuró en un drama de su amigo que no gustó, y en otro que tuvo mejor fortuna.147 En los últimos años no le fue muy fiel y menudearon los disgustos, las rapturas [sic, probably rupturas] y los acomodos. «¡Pobre Ruth! (me ha escrito una vez) No hay amargura que la infeliz no haya probado; pero el amargo de la verdad es como el de la quinina que cura la fiebre, por eso agradezco a V. las cosas que me dice...   —35→   «Todo ha concluido y lo poquito que resta, es decir, mi afección... pronto terminará. Estoy muy enferma del corazón y de la enfermedad dulcísima de que hablé a V. este verano (vulgo diabetis), sarcasmos del destino!» Esto lo escribía Concha a fines de 1897. En marzo de dicho año 1897, leí en un periódico israelita que una señorita española había recibido la iniciación al judaísmo en la sinagoga de Bayona.148 Hice publicar la noticia en el Heraldo, la reprodujeron varios periódicos, incluso alguno de Barcelona, la copiaron varios extranjeros, uno de ellos italiano, que creyendo equivocada la designación de Bayona, puso Barcelona, de donde surgió una polémica entre el periódico italiano y uno alemán acerca de si había o no había sinagoga en Barcelona, polémica que quedó sin acabar.149 Creyendo que la convertida podría darme alguna luz acerca de los judíos que residen en España, (que son más de lo que comúnmente se cree)150 escribí a un amigo mío, judío de Bayona, que me pusiera en relaciones con la neófita, si en ello no había inconveniente por su parte. Pasaron tres meses sin tener contestación y me decidí a escribir a mi amigo que perdonara mi indiscreción. Acababa la carta, cuando recibí una suya diciéndome que Concha, que había tomado en la sinagoga el nombre de Ruth, tendría mucho gusto en verme. Cuál no fue mi sorpresa al encontrar en mi casa, aquel mismo día, una tarjeta de la interesada invitándome a visitarla en una buena fonda de la calle de Alcalá, cuando yo sabía a ciencia exacta que la Concha-Ruth vivía sin criada y completamente sola en una casa muy modesta del barrio de Pozas.151 Comprobé que la casa seguía a su nombre; que ella se había marchado a veranear y... acudí a la cita. Me encontré con una mujer de unos 35 años a la que podía aplicarse la descripción antes transcrita... reduciéndola bastante y teniendo en cuenta el tiempo transcurrido. Lo que me llamó la atención en aquella mujer fue lo armonioso de la voz y lo simpático y distinguido de su conversación. Allané todas las dificultades para entrar en materia y pude preguntarla sin rodeos por qué y cómo se había hecho judía. Me contestó que ella no había tenido religión alguna, que su madre no se la había enseñado, que casi nunca la llevaba a la iglesia, que la decía que no había más que un solo Dios a quien adorar y consagrar los sábados, que la confesión, el culto de los santos y los rezos católicos eran una tontería y que no convenía comer cerdo porque era un manjar nocivo. No pudo afirmar si su madre era judía o no. (Este era uno de los puntos que más me interesaba saber, porque se roza con otras ideas mías.)152 Recordó únicamente que entre los cachivaches de su casa, había un libro de memorias en caracteres que creía hebreos, pero que desapareció en uno de los vaivenes de su vida accidentada. Afirmó Concha-Ruth que había sentido siempre aspiraciones a un ideal religioso y que se decidió a buscarlo a consecuencia de un artículo de Nocedal en el «Siglo Futuro» en el que, criticando las obras del amigo de Concha, había dicho que aquellos libros debían cubrirse con una inmensa estera.153 V. juzgará de la lógica de tal argumentación. Decidida a hacerse judía, Concha acudió al Rastro donde pensó encontrar, entre los vendedores de cosas viejas, algún hebreo y lo encontró en un pobre ciego que pedía limosna aun hace poco tiempo junto a la Pza del Progreso.154 Acuérdese V. del Almudena de Misericordia.155 De este pobre supo Concha que una distinguida señora israelita, conocida mía, mujer de un rico banquero de aquí, israelita también, hacía muchas limosnas, y acudió a ella.156   —36→   «Vengo, la dijo, a pedirla una limosna espiritual: que me inicie V. en la religión judaica.» Aquella señora acogió con mucho cariño a Concha, la dio un catecismo hebraico, la doctrinó y, por último, la puso en relaciones con el rabino de la sinagoga de Bayona que, después de corresponder con Concha por cartas durante un par de meses, dispuso que fuera a aquella ciudad para preparar la ceremonia de la iniciación. Se celebró ésta el día de la Pascua judía a mediados de marzo de 1897 -y fue solemnísima y produjo en aquellos hebreos una profunda impresión- lo dijeron ellos- Presentóse Concha, que en aquel acto recibió el nombre de Ruth -vestida de blanco. Su gracia, su distinción, la alegría no fingida que demostró, sus lágrimas de gozo -cuestión de nervios- conmovieron hondamente a los judíos, que la colmaron de bendiciones y de obsequios. Volvió muy satisfecha a Madrid y tres meses después le hacía yo mi primer visita. En el cuarto que ocupaba en la fonda conocí al novelista y de las conversaciones que con ella tuve pude convencerme de que ha recibido una educación esmerada. Habla francés e italiano, ha leído bastante: pero era ya entonces una desequilibrada y en cuanto a su fe judaica no tenía ninguna, ni sabía muchas cosas del culto, ni practicaba la mayor parte de las que sabía. «Enciendo la lámpara del sábado; pero como jamón y langostinos... pocas veces, porque cuestan caros.»157 En una palabra, me convencí de que aquella conversión era un Coup de tête de una locuela. La hice mi última visita llamado por ella para despedirse de mí. Aquella mujer que había visto alegre y satisfecha, instalada en un hermoso cuarto con dos balcones a la calle de Alcalá, me recibió llorando y lamentando su mala suerte, en una mala habitación. Se marchaba al día siguiente a Bayona, para olvidar, si era posible, al lado de sus correligionarios las desgracias de su triste vida. No me dijo cuáles eran, ni yo creí oportuno preguntarlo. En octubre de aquel año 1897, los deberes de mi oficio me llamaron a Bayona. Allí volví a verla. Estaba enferma y muy triste, instalada en un Hotel borgne del barrio judío de Saint-Esprit. Manifestó mucha alegría de verme, se lamentó de sus males y del abandono completo en que la tenía su amigo y me indicó vagamente que se gestionaba la celebración de un matrimonio civil con él, que se realizaría en Francia, puesto que el religioso era imposible por prohibirlo, tanto la iglesia cristiana como la sinagoga.158 Esto era verdad. A los entusiasmos del día de la iniciación había sucedido en los judíos un profundo desencanto y un gran disgusto. «Esta mujer nos ha dado un timo» me decía uno que habla el español. Se había descubierto la naturaleza de las relaciones que la unían con el novelista. Éste, que Concha presentaba como su banquero, enviaba muy pocos cuartos y, lo que era peor, los judíos sospechaban que la conversión de aquélla era un ardid de su amigo para estudiar por dentro la vida del judaísmo y utilizar las noticias que se le dieran para escribir libro [sic].159 «Nosotros no tenemos secretos, me decía uno de los más serios y de mejor posición, ni hacemos prosélitos. Habríamos explicado a este Señor todo lo que hubiese querido saber, como lo hemos hecho con V., pero engañarnos y tratar de sorprendernos...» Y esto me lo decía mientras tomábamos el té en pleno rito judío sentados con otras personas en la choza de verdura donde los judíos celebran el Sucoto sea la pasena de las cabañuelas, como decían los antiguos judíos españoles, en acción de gracias de haber recogido las cosechas, algo que se parece a las fiestas mayores de Cataluña, que acaso deriven de aquella práctica.160 Supe que algunos habían tratado para tapar el escándalo -de fijar a Concha en Bayona casándola con un judío acomodado; pero ella rechazó la proposición y trataron   —37→   entonces del casamiento civil de que ella me había hablado. Nada se consiguió. Tuve de Concha algunas cartas muy tristes, cesó la correspondencia al poco tiempo que supe luego que los amigos se habían reconciliado; que juntos habían hecho un viaje a París; que juntos viajaron por Navarra y Vascongadas y que Concha había pasado el verano de 1898 en el Astillero en un hotelito, sola, con un nombre supuesto.161 En los primeros meses de 1900 reaparece Concha en Madrid sola y desgraciada, cambia frecuentemente de domicilio y vive en casas muy modestas y en septiembre de aquel año se empeña en que la ponga en relaciones con Balart, a quien no conozco, entonces director del Teatro Español, porque quiere dedicarse al teatro.162 Desaparece de nuevo para volver a Santander desde donde me ha escrito varias cartas, empezando por una de agosto de 1901 pidiéndome un estanco y acabando por otra de fines de dicho año en la que me suplica la recomiende para que la nombren maestra de una escuela laica. «Decididamente quiero ser maestra de escuela.» Está completamente abandonada pero conserva el amor al amigo de su vida. «Aquello se acabó me decía en una carta de principios de enero,163 Él estaba harto de mí, hacía todo lo posible para que yo lo comprendiese y lo dejara en paz. Yo lo comprendía; pero Él era para mí todo en el mundo. Él era para mí el único, le he entregado mi alma y vida. Él me abandona y me desprecia; qué tengo que hacer en este atómico [sic] mundo?» En Santander le han pasado cosas gordas. Ha estado en el convento de los Santos Ángeles Custodios, de donde creo que la echaron después que un cierto Padre Mendiri se ha convencido de que no había medio de que abjurara el judaísmo, luego estuvo en el colegio-asilo de la Divina Pastora, donde «me refugié, dice, huyendo de pretendientes fogosos y atrevidos.» Luego ha vivido en casa de unos pescadores y ahora no sé donde está porque en su última carta de hace meses, me decía que no la escribiera hasta que ella me diera cuenta de su persona. He abreviado el relato para no fatigar a V. demasiado. Ahora sabe V. tanto como yo y queda satisfecha la curiosidad de V. con la molestia consiguiente de leer, si tiene V. paciencia, esta carta insoportable. Vea V. con qué más puede servirle su affmo. y sincero amigo q.b.s.m. J. B. Sitges

Sitges' next letter, dated 17th April 1902, modestly acknowledges the warm interest with which his account had obviously been received by Narcís Oller. He adds:

Como apéndice a aquella carta envío a V. adjunto el número del «Heraldo de París» que ha publicado un artículo indecente sobre Pérez Galdós, en el que se habla de Concha Ruth Morell. [...] Los periódicos carlistas, como no! lo han reproducido, añadiendo con unción cristiana «el hecho que el Sr. Bonafoux refiere lo conocíamos hace mucho tiempo.»

The document referred to is a newspaper-cutting headed El Heraldo de París, París, 5 de Abril, 1902.'¹⁶⁴ It is an article by Luis Bonafoux titled «El anticlericalismo de Galdós o la Concha Ruth Morell». The article starts with a violent attack on Galdós as an «épicier» and claims that Galdós is no more than a bad imitator of Zola. Moving on to the personal substance of his slander Bonafoux alleges that according to information obtained from «un grupo de obreros santanderinos»:

  —38→  

El señor Pérez Galdós, aunque está mandado recoger, sedujo a la señorita Ruth Morell y la hizo su querido [sic] durante muchos años, en pago de lo cual la ha abandonado, siendo la última etapa de concubinato un hotel de la rue Cambon en donde vivió con ella, bien que en cuartos separados, porque este hipocritón mira mucho el qué dirán.

Bonafoux goes on to allege that Galdós then abandoned his mistress to the charities of those same religious institutions he had attacked in his work. The convents only saved the poor woman from starvation out of desire to revenge themselves on the author of Electra. Galdós' behaviour in this affair demonstrates, according to Bonafoux, the real nature of his anticlericalism and the profound duplicity of the man.

Sitges' next letter, of the 8th May 1902, disagrees with the idea, presumably expressed in Oller's reply to his last, that Ruth Morell was Bonafoux's informant. He says that apparently she was very angry when she heard about the article and wrote an indignant letter to Bonafoux defending Galdós' behaviour. He then adds, rather contradictorily, that in his opinion the affair became gossip through clerical circles since «aquella mujer sigue siendo el juguete de los jesuitas y está diciendo toda clase de disparates».

I have found no other references to this affair in the Sitges letters to Oller, apart from a promise in a letter of 14th October 1901 that some day when he had time he would «hablarle de la judía cuya existencia ha señalado a V. el amigo Rahola».¹⁶⁵

There is, however, a passage of Pío Baroja's memoirs Final del siglo XIX y principios del XX, which, although it shows Baroja at his least sympathetic, is relevant to this document and particularly to Sitges' claim that Ruth Morell was not Bonafoux's informant.¹⁶⁶ After giving an account of the first night of Electra, which he claims not to have been deeply impressed by,¹⁶⁷ Baroja proceeds to relay all the discreditable tittle-tattle he had ever heard about Galdós. He tells how he met Luis Bonafoux in Paris two or three years after the production of Electra. Bonafoux seemed to Baroja «el mejor periodista español del tiempo, hombre con un fondo moral grande y, al mismo tiempo, rencoroso y sañudo».¹⁶⁸I

According to Bonafoux, says Baroja, Galdós «se había portado... de una manera indigna con una muchacha abandonada que vivía en Santander y que tenía un nombre judío. Creo que Ruth, Ruth Muller o Ruth Morel». Baroja claims that Bonafoux showed him letters from the woman which showed that indeed «Galdós se había portado de una manera un poco fea y mísera con esta chica». It is not explained what was so despicable about Galdós' behaviour, except that it was «una seducción hecha en frío, con dinero y con engaño»- a view of the affair certainly not borne out by the above document.

Generalising from this episode Baroja remarks:

Don Benito debía de ser hombre un poco lioso y hasta trapacero, porque, por lo que pude yo notar, le hicieron víctima de reclamaciones y de chantajes.

The possibility that Galdós' financial difficulties were the result of being blackmailed as well as of simple generosity, extravagance and fecklessness is also suggested by Berkowitz.¹⁶⁹

Baroja concludes that this «falta de sensibilidad ética» is what prevents Galdós from being a great writer:

  —39→  

Porque en literatura se puede ser un cínico y un degenerado, como Paul Verlaine; se puede ser un satánico, como Baudelaire; se puede ser un ególatra, como Nietzsche; pero no se puede ser un cuco, que disimule ante el público sus pequeñas artimañas y su s intrigas.170

How credit-worthy is this document? It is clear that Narcís Oller believed it. What most inspires confidence in Sitges' trustworthiness as a narrator, apart from his obvious respectability, and the accuracy of the facts he gives that can be checked, is that one can see no evidence of slanderous intentions. He obviously enjoyed being in a position to disclose confidential facts about a famous novelist; but his letter was not intended for public consumption, in spite of its slightly novelesque style, nor apparently did he have any axe to grind. One suspects, in fact, that he shared Galdós' anticlericalism, and probably many of his social and political attitudes. It is interesting to note his indignant reaction to Bonafoux's article.

One should clearly be a great deal more sceptical about the reliability of Sitges' main informant, Concha-Ruth Morell, since she was a highly interested party. The main evidence tending to support her claims are the facts that 1) She figures in the cast-list of Realidad, 2) Galdós did travel through Navarre and the Basque country at the times she claims to have accompanied him, 3) Sitges met Galdós in her company. Her claims for the intensity and duration of the relationship must obviously be the most suspect area of her story -especially the claim that a civil marriage was contemplated. However, to judge from this document, she did not attempt to portray herself as an innocent victim of the novelist's wiles, nor does there seem to be any vindictive or self-interested motives behind her disclosures, apart perhaps from those of self -glamourisation and the desire to enlist the sympathy and practical assistance of Sitges. It is difficult to reconcile the tone of her revelations to Sitges with what she apparently told Bonafoux. It should be noted, however, that it was clearly on Sitges' initiative that he became her confidant, that she did not seek him out to tell her story. It is possible that her disclosures to Bonafoux were made in a mood of hysteria, after a definitive rupture with Galdós, while her contacts with Sitges took place in the main before then. Nevertheless, Sitges' claim that she protested indignantly over Bonafoux's article seems less credible in the light of the fact that she was Bonafoux's main informant. In spite of these reservations, there seems to be little reason to doubt the principal facts contained in this document. Sitges appears to have been an intelligent man accustomed to assessing evidence and unlikely to accept implausible claims -see for example his description of Concha-Ruth's conversion as the «coup de tête de una locuela». It would perhaps be useful at this point to piece together the chronology of the main events Sitges recounts:

c. 1862. Birth of Concha Morell (since he estimates her age at about 35 when he first met her in 1897) 1881 Concha's mother reappears in Córdoba, having left her daughter apparently in San Sebastián. It is implied that shortly after this date Concha met Galdós and started to live with him. (Talking about his first visits to Concha, Sitges says that he was unable to inquire too deeply into what had happened in «un lapso de tiempo de unos dieciséis años».) 1897 March. Sitges reads of Concha's conversion. 1897 c. June. Sitges makes contact with Concha and around this time meets Galdós in her company.   —40→   1898 Spring and summer. Concha travels to Navarre, Basque country and Paris with Galdós. Spends summer in El Astillero. 1900 Concha arrives in Madrid «sola y desgraciada». Her relationship with Galdós appears finally broken.

If Sitges was correct in his chronology the relationship between Galdós and Concha-Ruth was one of considerable duration and spanned the most important period of Galdós' creative life. The document contains, however, no concrete evidence to link the two before the performance of Realidad in 1892. But even if the relationship only started in 1892, it lasted at least six years, and was hence much more important in Galdós' life than a brief affaire.

What this document does establish beyond reasonable doubt is that Galdós enjoyed for at least an important part of his life an active if socially improper heterosexual love-life. This should not be news to anyone after Berkowitz's biography. Before the publication of that work on the other hand it must have been very difficult to reconcile the vindictive gossip of cognoscenti and personal enemies with the piety of such biographers as Alas, and Olmet and García Carrafa.¹⁷¹ Even after its publication the picture of Galdós as a timid man whose involvement in life was that of a fascinated but non-participatory spectator continues to have some potency -so that it was still possible for a historian of the Spanish stage to write of him in 1961:

no hizo más que escribir. De aquí que sus biógrafos se desesperen al ver que es inútil bucear en su vida, porque nunca le sucedió nada.172

Perhaps the most interesting thing about this document is the partial picture that emerges of Concha-Ruth Morell's character and life. It is a sad story illustrating what happened in nineteenth-century society to a woman who was independent and ambitious without being rich or greatly talented. She appears to have been an impulsive and strong-willed woman, intensely emotional and given to self-dramatisation, at times hysterical but certainly attractive. Her behaviour with Galdós was clearly not that of a docile and discreet mistress gratefully adoring her distinguished protector. This is confirmed by the admission that «no le fue muy fiel» [to Galdós] and that their relationship was marked by frequent quarrels and separations. In spite of the suspicions of the Bayonne Jews, Concha-Ruth's conversion must have been the cause of some embarassment to Galdós, notwithstanding his religious liberalism. It is difficult to imagine her being content with the rôle of no more than one of «the creatures who gratified the demands of his physical nature», as Berkowitz puts it.¹⁷³ One suspects, equally, that the contention of Sainz de Robles that Galdós was «bastante faldero» and that «amó muchas veces, amó epidérmicamente» does not do justice to the importance of women in Galdós' life and work.¹⁷⁴

Berkowitz's biography, still unrivalled, does in fact contain a certain amount of material of Galdós' erotic life. Berkowitz makes it clear that Galdós was highly active sexually throughout his adult life, that he had an illegitimate daughter and possibly a son too [328], that his financial difficulties were to a large extent due to the «irregularities» of his sex-life [218, 242], and even that sexual activity was central to Galdós' personality and creative process -«These frequent junkets were of the essence of his creative process» [111] and «for Galdós the problem [sic] of sex was woven into the fabric of his personality» [330]. Nevertheless, Berkowitz's   —41→   treatment of the importance of sex in Galdós' life is unsatisfactory for several reasons. Firstly, because of the book's well-known defects in documentation and the lack of reference to sources. This may, particularly in this area of course, have been a result of the confidentiality of much of Berkowitz's information, but it leads to such irritating assertions as (writing of Galdós' conscientious zeal in replying to female correspondents), «it was in this way that he met the cultivated woman who became his one great love» [111].¹⁷⁵ Secondly, this information on Galdós' sex and love-life is concealed at the same time as being communicated, because it is scattered fairly randomly throughout this large book, instead of being collated or grouped into a coherent section. Finally, Berkowitz's treatment of Galdós' erotic life is inadequate because of the biographer's intolerant attitude to his subject's sexual behaviour. Shoemaker's thoughtful and balanced review of the biography pointed out how inappropriate puritanical judgements were in this context.¹⁷⁶ Berkowitz however appeared to believe that it was reprehensible for an unmarried man to engage in any kind of sexual activity. References to mentions of Galdós' sex-life are grouped in the index under the revealing heading «sexual abnormalities of Galdós... «The fact that as a child Galdós used to linger lovingly at his mother's bosom is described as a «perverted childhood indulgence» [21]. The assertion that «in his personal life, and vicariously in that of his characters, he was always the prey of a relentless obsession, a persistent subconscious demand» [331] means, as far as the reader can tell, that like some of his characters Galdós did not practice sexual abstinence. Unless one is to understand that Galdós was a flagellant, a foot-fetishist or a transvestite, such phrases as «his continued surrender to abnormal urges and passions even in his old age [419]» and «his seemingly callous attitude toward his family was due partly to the selfishness of progressive senility and partly to his complete enslavement by the pathological habits of his intimate life [421]» appear to mean that he was fortunate enough to remain sexually active into old age.

The time has clearly come for an indiscreet yet tolerant re-examination of what material is still available on Galdós' private life. Doubtless much of it has disappeared or even been destroyed. Nevertheless the examination now in progress of the letters to Galdós held in the Casa-Museo will certainly yield information of this kind.¹⁷⁷ It should no longer be necessary to argue that such information is of importance in understanding a writer's personality, and hence his creative process. While it is necessary for biographical scholarship to be more discriminating in the consideration of what material is relevant to the understanding of a writer's literary work than was at one time the case, it is unfortunate for Hispanism that in some respects scholars profess a sophistication that cannot yet be afforded. Over-facile distinctions can be made between an author's life and an author's works; it is easy enough to reject certain information as irrelevant or trivial -when that information has been made available. In this way biographical speculation which might have proved fruitful has been inhibited, first out of fear of shocking the faithful, then out of fear of appearing démodé.

The immediate literary implications of this document are interesting, even if they can be only hypothetical. While one must obviously beware of reducing Tristana to the anecdotal, it is worth examining Sitges' claim that «en los primeros años debió suceder lo narrado con más o menos veracidad en la novela T...» and the reported claim of Concha-Ruth that «el fondo del libro es rigurosamente exacto» and that some of the letters from Tristana were copies of her letters. It is clear that the plot   —42→   of Tristana cannot be based closely on anything that happened between Concha-Ruth Morell and Galdós. Concha-Ruth claimed that she suffered from diabetes, but she enjoyed the use of all her limbs. Neither of the two men in her life, Don Lope Garrido or Horacio Díaz, could possibly be seen as a straightforward self-portrait by Galdós. Nevertheless there are grounds for believing Concha-Ruth's claim, at least to some extent. Like her, Tristana is an orphan very much alone in the world and without money. Tristana's mother's neurotic compulsion to change houses constantly in the latter years of her life sounds rather like what Sitges tells us of Concha-Ruth's mother. Like Concha-Ruth, Tristana plans to become an actress as a means of achieving honourable independence. Both in fact use the same phrase; in a letter to Sitges Concha-Ruth talks of her pursuit of «el arte... escénico» while Tristana twice talks of «el arte escénico» in a letter to Horacio.¹⁷⁸ Sitges notes that Concha-Ruth had been well-educated, that she spoke French and Italian, and adds «pero era ya entonces una desequilibrada». Tristana's aptitude and enthusiasm for learning is a central feature of her character, and the smattering of Italian that she learns from Horacio becomes an important part of their private language.¹⁷⁹ The account Sitges gives of Concha-Ruth, of her ambitions to return to the stage, then to become a teacher (another of Tristana's plans), as an attractive and talented woman given to depressions and impulsive enthusiasms suggests that she may well have served as a model for Tristana, with «sus entusiasmos locos y sus desalientos».¹⁸⁰ While this document contains no information on Concha-Ruth's attitude to marriage and the independence of women, Tristana's ideas on the subject and her vain struggle to live according to them are described by Galdós with such conviction and sympathetic insight that it seems highly plausible that he should have had a particular model in mind. Concha-Ruth's claim that Galdós used many of her letters for Tristana's must be treated with scepticism in view of the fact that the nineteen letters from Tristana to Horacio are integrated very coherently into the structure of the novel and are linked with the developments of the plot. Nevertheless, they are largely concerned with the exposition of Tristana's ideas and ambitions, and several might well have been based on Concha-Ruth's letters. Of one letter in particular does this seem likely. Tristana is telling Horacio of her theatrical ambitions:

[...] me siento actriz. Hasta ahora dudé de poseer las facultades del arte escénico; pero ya estoy segura de poseerlas. Me lo dicen ellas mismas gritando dentro de mí. ¡Representar los afectos, las pasiones, fingir la vida! ¡Jesús, qué cosa más fácil! ¡Si yo sé sentir no sólo lo que siento, sino lo que sentiría en los varios casos de la vida que puedan ocurrir! Con esto, y buena voz, y una figura que... vamos, no es maleja, tengo todo lo que me basta. Ya, ya veo lo que me dices: que me faltará presencia de ánimo para soportar la mirada de un público, que me cortaré... Quítate, hombre, ¡qué he de turbarme yo! No tengo vergüenza, dicho sea en el mejor sentido. Te juro que en este instante me encuentro con alientos para representar los más difíciles dramas de pasión, las más delicadas comedias de gracia y coquetería. ¿Qué? ¿Te burlas? ¿No me crees? Pues a probarlo. Que me saquen a la escena y verás quién es tu Restituta. Nada, hombre, que ya te convencerás, ya te irás convenciendo...181

Bearing in mind that while writing Tristana Galdós was also preparing for the production of Realidad, and that Señorita Morell acted a small part in that production, it seems very plausible that the above should be part of a letter from her arguing her competence to be an actress. In the light of Galdós' emphasis on Tristana's   —43→   highly personal style, of her fondness for inventing new words and distorting accepted ones, one also notes the rather eccentric style of Concha-Ruth's letters, as, for example, «qué tengo que hacer en este atómico mundo?»

If, as seems probable, the character and dilemma of Tristana are to some extent based on those of Concha-Ruth Morell, it is natural to wonder whether Galdós did not also to some extent portray himself in the men with whom Tristana had relations. Galdós portrays neither Don Lope Garrido nor Horacio Díaz in the mellow light one would expect of self-portraits, even self-critical ones. But there is in Tristana little of the sentimentality to which Galdós was occasionally prone. It would be consistent with the savage mood of the novel if the portraits of Don Lope and Horacio were in some respects vicious self-portraits. The subtle characterisation of Don Lope as a superannuated Don Juan, the incarnation of machismo, who is at the same time a man of generosity and, except in sexual matters, moral delicacy could not have been achieved by someone who shared this moral insensitivity. Nevertheless, this portrait of an aging rake who felt himself unfettered by any kind of moral law in his dealing with women is very close to the view that might have been taken of Galdós by a hostile outsider. It is the view of Galdós expressed by Bonafoux and by Baroja in the passage mentioned above. One might argue that while not portraying himself in Don Lope Garrido, Galdós was caricaturing his own behaviour and attitudes from the viewpoint of a hostile critic, or perhaps from the viewpoint of a woman. This interpretation helps one to understand the ambiguity of Galdós' criticisms of Don Lope's morality. While he is unequivocally critical of Don Lope's behaviour in as much as it affects Tristana, his condemnation of the attitudes underlying this behaviour is both clouded and muted by the burlesque tone he adopts. There is no reason to doubt the author's seriousness when he writes:

Era que al sentido moral del buen caballero le faltaba una pieza importante... no admitía crimen ni falta ni responsabilidad en cuestiones de faldas... Su conciencia, tan sensible en otros puntos, en aquél era más dura y más muerta que un guijarro.

but he then continues:

Inútil parece advertir que cuantos conocían a Garrido, incluso el que esto escribe, abominaban y abominan de tales ideas [that in the relations between man and woman anarchy was the only law], deplorando con toda el alma que la conducta del insensato caballero fuese una fiel aplicación de sus perversas doctrinas. Debe añadirse que a cuantos estimamos en lo que valen los grandes principios sobre que se asienta, etcétera, etcétera..., se nos ponen los pelos de punta sólo de pensar cómo andaría la máquina social si a sus esclarecidos manipulantes les diese la ventolera de apadrinar los disparates de don Lope... Si no hubiera infierno, sólo para don Lope habría que crear uno, a fin de que en él eternamente purgase sus burlas de la moral...182

The disparity of tone between the two passages reflects Galdós' uncertainty, expressed in many of his works as well as Tristana, as to whether, in spite of the bankruptcy of the religious and social dogmas which had traditionally prescribed monogamy, there in fact existed any alternative to it which did not necessarily entail irresponsible libertinage.

If one is looking for autobiographical elements in this novel the young painter Horacio seems more obviously a self-projection of Galdós than does Don Lope. It   —44→   is not unlikely that the characterisation of the painter-lover, newly arrived in Madrid, enthusiastically and ambitiously devoted to his art, was influenced by Galdós' image of himself as a young man. The account Horacio gives of his life before he came to Madrid, of a youth made joyless by a sour and tyrannical grandfather who, out of misconceived and ambitious love for Horacio, attempted to stifle his artistic inclinations, strikingly resembles the account Berkowitz gives of Galdós' early life.

One of Galdós' most subtle achievements in Tristana lies in the way he ensures the reader's gradual loss of sympathy for Horacio. Initially Horacio, as Tristana's ardent and sincere lover, appears to be her ally in her attempts to emancipate herself from an oppressive system brutally represented by Don Lope. But as the novel progresses and the tensions inherent in the lovers' relationship become more apparent the reader is made to realise that what Horacio offers the young woman is, while not so flagrant, a more insidious form of oppression -not concubinage but bourgeois marriage. Finally Horacio appears a very ordinary young man, not wicked but Pedestrian and mediocre, inspiring less sympathy and respect than Don Lope. While it is likely that the character of Horacio is to some extent autobiographical, it would be absurd to see it as a simple self-portrait, unless it were one made in a mood of profound self-contempt.

It is clear from Sitges' letter that what interested him in Srta. Morell more than her connection with Galdós was her conversion to Judaism and her possibly Jewish origins. The above document does not contain enough information for one to establish with any certainty whether Concha-Ruth did in fact have Jewish parentage. The account of her upbringing seems not inconsistent with a residual Judaism maintained in isolation from any corporate religious life, with residual Jewish attitudes being transmitted from mother to daughter -while it is also possible that she could have had, given that her mother had spent some time in Brazil, a Portuguese Jewish father. It is apparent that Srta. Morell knew little of the details of her birth and early childhood until Sitges communicated the results of his investigations to her, although she must have acquired a strong sympathy for Judaism to feel drawn to it at a time of crisis in her later life. So, it seems plausible that Galdós should have had some ideas about her race but, on the other hand, unlikely that she was able before her conversion in 1897 to give him any useful or reliable information on Judaism in Spain.

The knowledge that Galdós had personal contact with a convert to Judaism is relevant to our understanding of those novels written after 1897 containing Jewish characters, especially of course the two episodios nacionales, Aita Tettauen and Carlos VI, en la rápita. An article has, in fact, been devoted to the characterisation of North African Sephardic Jews by V. A. Chamberlin.¹⁸³ Chamberlin argues that Galdós acquired the information he needed to portray the customs and speech of the Sephardic Jews of Tetuán entirely from printed sources. The proof that he did not use living models or sources can be seen in «Galdós' mistakes with Hebrew words and an obviously artificial and inconsistent amalgamation of Judeo-Spanish linguistic forms in the mouths of his characters», as well as in the fact that «the speech of Galdós' characters does have a decidedly Sephardic flavour, but it is certainly no transcription of the language as spoken in Tetuán, Morocco.»¹⁸⁴ These undeniable facts certainly indicate that Galdós neither made a serious study of Judeo-Spanish as spoken in Tetuán nor had his work checked by an expert. They could, however, be used at least as convincingly to argue that Galdós leaned heavily on oral sources or even   —45→   living models. For example, one of the Sephardic characters in Carlos VI, en la rápita curses a woman: «¡Hija de la baranid-dah enconada!»¹⁸⁵ Chamberlin argues plausibly that this is an approximation to the Hebrew oath bar-niddah (son of a menstruating woman); but the mistakes Galdós makes here (both in transliteration and in making the oath apply to a woman) seem more likely to have arisen from misunderstood speech than from misread printed material. Chamberlin's argument fails to consider the possibility that Galdós was personally acquainted with Jews from other Sephardic communities (e.g. Bayonne) or even with Jews living in Spain.¹⁸⁶ The purpose of Chamberlin's article appears to be to show that Galdós, through the use of imagination and his skills as a writer, was able to fuse second-hand information into a more artistically convincing whole than was a lesser writer such as Alarcón, who had nevertheless direct experience of the conditions he was describing.¹⁸⁷ Such an argument is consistent with an enterprise which has characterised much recent work on Galdós: namely, the emphasis on the role of the creative imagination in his novels and the downgrading of documentary naturalist elements associated with the «garbancero» gibe. Laudable as such an enterprise doubtless is, it is based, as I hope to show below, on a naïve understanding of the nature of artistic imagination.

The account of how Concha-Ruth made contact with the Jewish community through the agency of a blind beggar is one of the most interesting parts of this document. The date of her conversion coincides with the writing of Misericordia. She made contact with the blind beggar some months before her conversion. Equally, Galdós tells us in his prologue to the edition of Misericordia of 1913, he had interviewed and observed the model for Mordejai-Almudena for several months, after his existence had been brought to Galdós' attention by a friend.¹⁸⁸ There are good reasons, then, for believing that Sitges was correct in identifying the blind Jewish beggar whom Concha-Ruth Morell met as the model for Almudena. This seems even more plausible in view of the fact that Galdós' declaration that he had used a living model for Almudena was only made in 1913, and that therefore Sitges (or Concha-Ruth) was making a spontaneous link rather than following up a clue given by Galdós.

This identification acquires particular interest because of the discussion that has taken place in recent years over the character of Almudena and, in particular, over how seriously one should take the claims made in Galdós' prologue that Almudena was «arrancado del natural por una feliz coincidencia», and that «toda la verdad del pintoresco Mordejai es obra de él mismo, pues poca parte tuve yo en la descripción de esta figura».¹⁸⁹ Galdós' preface embarasses R. Ricard in his article on the character of Almudena because it appears to show that Almudena, «étroitement calqué sur la realité, est une figure donnée, et non créée».¹⁹⁰ Ricard argues ingeniously that what Galdós really meant by the above declaration was that while the «verdad» about Almudena was not his own invention, the characterisation of Almudena excluding the physical «descripción de esta figura» is largely fictional and poetic and hence Galdós' very own contribution.¹⁹¹ The fictional (and hence «unreal») part in the characterisation of Almudena is, according to Ricard, the strange amalgamations of heterogenous religious and linguistic elements, all of which unite to create a symbol of religious, racial, and cultural tolerance. The fact that Galdós «invented» more than he admitted shows that «il ne faut pas non plus faire de lui le garbancero injustement décrié. Galdós n'est pas une simple et géniale mécanique à raconter et à décrire».¹⁹²

  —46→  

Ricard was the first to concede that subsequent scholarship establishing that Jewishness was perfectly consistent with an upbringing in a rural part of Southern Morocco undermined his argument.¹⁹³ But the modification he makes to his original claim still implies a fundamental dichotomy between the imagined and the observed: «Galdós a plus inventé qu'il ne l'a dit, mais sans doute moins que je ne l'ai supposé.»¹⁹⁴ Ricard points out that in Misericordia «la frontière n'est plus nettement tracée entre le réel et l'imaginaire, entre les choses et les signes, entre le donné et l'inventé...»¹⁹⁵ The recognition that the frontier is blurred does not, however, prevent such a distinction from being both simplistic and misleading, especially when applied to a novel which is overtly concerned with the idea not only that reality is often stranger than fiction but that the two are in many ways indistinguishable.

An article by D. Lida takes Ricard's assumptions even farther. She asks the reader to be sceptical of or even disbelieve what Galdós asserted in his preface to Misericordia:

Por muy escrupuloso que el escritor naturalista haya sido al «transcribir» el genio y figura del mendigo madrileño, nada nos invita a aceptar con demasiada literalidad sus declaraciones.196

The writer appears to believe that to accept Galdós' claims that he used a living model for the character of Almudena is incompatible with a full appreciation of the artistry of Galdós' «expresión personal-lírica e irrefrenable». Almudena is, she says, an «individualísimo héroe de la fe y la imaginación pura... que no conviene a ningún tipo histórico, a ningún papel genérico de árabe, ni de sefardí, ni de mendigo extranjero en Madrid».¹⁹⁷ Yet, it should be unnecessary to say, an important part of the artistic imaginative process consists precisely in the ability to give the individual character or phenomenon a generic or historical significance without diminishing our sense of its uniqueness. Similarly, it is now generally recognised, the act of observing or seeing cannot be separated from the act of imagining. The process of selection is an artistic one or, one might almost say, to narrate is to invent. To affirm that Galdós based his characterisation of Almudena on a blind North African Jewish beggar, thus taking Galdós' own declarations at their face value, is not to mechanize his art, to see him as a camera, a tape-recorder or, for that matter, as a garbancero. Further, to argue that Galdós' fiction is more directly the fruit of personal experience than has often been recognized is not to claim a mechanical or deterministic relationship between his fiction and his experience.

The main conclusions suggested by the document published here are, then, as follows: the popular image of Galdós as a cloistered celibate is false. Conversely, the cognoscenti's image of him as an inveterate but casual philanderer should also be treated with some scepticism. The document would indicate that his emotional and sexual life was intense and dramatic over long periods of time. One might consequently expect to find a more directly personal, even sentimental involvement of the author in his work, especially in the treatment of sexuality and adultery than has recently been admitted. The inhibited exploration of the relationship between Galdós' life and work is largely the result of a historically understandable desire to portray Galdós as «pure inventor» in the limited sense referred to above and legitimate fear of falling into the trap of crudely determinist biographical criticism. It is also due, of course, to the lack of hard information. Once again the need for sensitive research into Galdós' biography is manifest.

University of Southampton