1 Claudio Guillén, ed., Lazarillo de Tormes and El Abencerraje (New York: Dell, 1966), p. 5. All textual citations of the Lazarillo are from Guillén's edition, but I have also found helpful the editions of R. O. Jones (Manchester: Manchester Univ. Press, 1963) and José Caso Gonzalez (Madrid: Real Academia Española, 1967). Of the several contemporary English translations, the most readily available is by Michael Alpert in Two Spanish Picaresque Novels (Baltimore: Penguin, 1969). Alpert translates this paragraph: “Now when I was about eight years old they caught my father bleeding the sacks belonging to the people who came to have their crops milled there. So they arrested him, and he confessed, denied nothing and was punished by law. I hope to God he's in Heaven because the Gospel says that people like him are blessed. About this time there was an expedition against the Moors and my father went with it. He was living away from home as part of his sentence, as a mule driver for a gentleman who went on the expedition, and he ended his life with his master like a loyal servant” (p. 25).

2 See Vladimir Propp's Morphology of the Folktale, trans. Laurence Scott, 2nd. ed., rev. Louis Wagner (Austin: Univ. of Texas Press, 1968). Propp has isolated in the Russian folktale different elements (such as kidnapping, theft, murder, and rape) that constitute the generators of the plot. In every one of these situations, each of which can give rise to a fictional quest, a lack is created either from outside (as in theft) or from inside (as in penury), and this initial lack opens a sequence that will be closed only through reintegration. Fernando Lázaro Carreter's book-length article “Construcción y sentido del Lazarillo de Tormes” Ábaco, 1 (1969), 45-134, goes back to Propp in noting the “absence function” characteristic of the popular tale. Jacques Lacan's theories in The Language of the Self (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Univ. Press, 1968) likewise may be applied to literature as a product of desire: “The revelation of a void, the presence of an absence of reality” (p. 193).

3 For the concept of exchange, see Marcel Mauss's famous study, “Essais sur le don: Forme et raison de l'échange dans les sociétés archaiques” (1925); rpt. in Sociologie et Anthropologie, ed. George Gurvitch (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. 1950). Mauss shows that the transfer of goods in archaic societies is never arbitrary, as it appears, but follows clearly observable rules. He maintains that primitive systems of exchange are at the same time moral, economic, juridical, aesthetic, religious, mythological, and social phenomena. To apply his concept of “the gift” to words themselves involves only a short step (Mauss himself considered writing a study on prayer as a system of exchange). Naturally the application of his theory of exchange to literature presupposes a higher level of abstraction, but one that is nevertheless entirely valid, given the dialogic, transactive nature of language itself.

4 See Todorov's article “Structural Analysis of Narrative.” Novel, 3 (1969), 70-76. In this general introduction to structural interpretation. Todorov views narrative grammatically (e.g., agents are treated as nouns, predicates as verbs, and qualities as adjectives): “An organized succession of clauses forms a new syn-tagmatic pattern, sequence. Sequence is perceived by the reader as a finished story; it is the minimal narrative in a completed form. This impression of completion is caused by a modified repetition of the initial clause; the first and last clause will be identical but they will either have a different mood or status, for instance, or they will be seen from different points of view” (p. 74). Todorov's most important study in this field is Grammaire du Decameron (The Hague: Mouton, 1969).

5 For two studies that view the Lazarillo as a parody of Augustine's Confessions, see Peter Baumanns' “Der Lazarillo de Tonnes eine Travestie der Augustinischen ConfessionesT' Romanistisches Jahrbuch, 10 (1959), 285-91, and Hans Robert Jauss's ”Ursprung und Bedeu-tung der Ich-Form im Lazarillo de Tonnes,“ Romanistisches Jahrbuch, 8 (1957), 290-311. Cf.. however, Lázaro Carreter's ”La ficción autobiográfica en el Lazarillo de Tonnes,“ in Litterae Hispanae et Lusitanae. ed. Hans Flashe (Munich: Max Hueber Verlag, 1968), pp. 195–213, which rejects the idea of any parodie relation.

6 Lázaro is forced into a defensive, posturing stance because, unlike Augustine, he is “obliged” to confess to the authorities.

7 Francisco Marquez Villanueva has pointed out the betrayal wrought by the very members of that church in Lazarillo's society: “Lo desolador no es que se tratara de un simple triunfo de la maldad humana, sino que ese estado de cosas se le apareciese respaldado e incluso producido, en gran parte, por la religión in-stitucionalizada. … El verdadero problema espiritual del autor … se plantea … como rebote de una con-vicción atormentada de que los ideales cristianos son traicionados por sus propios guardianes y vienen a definirse así, quiérase o no. como un gigantesco fracaso histórico” ‘The devastating truth is not so much a matter of the simple triumph of human evil, but rather that that state of things appeared to him endorsed and even produced, in large part, by institutionalized religion… . The true spiritual problem of the author … is presented … as springing from a tormented conviction that Christian ideals are betrayed by their own guardians and thus come to be defined, willy-nilly, as a gigantic historical failure’ (“La actitud espiritual de Lazarillo de Tonnes” Espiritualidad y literatura en el siglo diez y seis [Madrid: Alfaguara, 1968], p. 129; see also p. 136).

8 See Claudio Guillén's “La disposición temporal del Lazarillo de Tonnes” Hispanic Review, 25 (1957), 264-79: “El referir o explicar su vida por obediencia adquiere especial intensidad en el mundo que retrata el Lazarillo. Respiramos la atmósfera rarificada de una sociedad basada en el engaño, la sospecha, la persecuc-ión, el temor al qué dirán, la calumnia (la obligación, dice el escudero, ‘… de malsinar a los de casa y a los de fuera, pesquisar y procurar saber de vidas ajenas’)” ‘Reporting or explaining one's life out of obedience acquires special intensity in the world which the Lazarillo depicts. We breathe the rarified atmosphere of a society based on deception, suspicion, persecution, the fear of what others will say, slander (the obligation, the squire says, “… to malign those of the household and outsiders, to make investigations and to pry into other people's lives”)’ (pp. 269–70). Within the novel, what Lázaro terms “persecution” is almost always deemed “prosecution” by other members of the society.

9 For a discussion of the book as letter, see Guillén's “La disposición temporal.” p. 28. and Francisco Rico's La novelet picaresca y el punto de vista (Barcelona: Seix Barrai, 1973), pp. 15–21. Rico considers ways in which the epistolary form functions as part of the plot itself (p. 21).

10 Guillén sees both the juridical and Augustinian senses of confession in the novel. In “La disposicion temporal,” he speaks of “el sentido judicial que a menudo tiene el verbo ‘confesar’ ” ‘the judicial sense which the verb “to confess” often has’ (p. 269). In the Introduction to Lazarillo de Toimes and El Abencerraje, Guillén refers to the novel as a “secularized confession” after the Augustinian mode, as “a cautious confession” that resembles a “judicial report,” and as “an autobiography that is also a kind of self-defense” (p. 14). These descriptions accurately reflect the justifying tone and the first-person form of the novel. Bruce War-dropper, in personal correspondence, has suggested that the Lazarillo should be seen as “the first of a new genre of depositions”; he comments that Lázaro is “giving written evidence that would be used in a court of inquiry.” In this context, he observes the judicial connotations of the verb relator. For Wardropper's view of the novel, see “The Strange Case of Lázaro Gonzales Pérez,” Modern Language Notes, 92 (1977), 202-12.

11 See Guillén's Introduction, p. 14.

12 As Stephen Gilman maintains in “The Death of Lazarillo de Tormes,” PMLA, 81 (1966), 149-66. See also Richard Hitchcock's “Lazarillo and ‘Vuestra Merced,‘ ” Modem Language Notes, 87 (1972), 264-66. Hitchcock attributes to Lázaro a superfluous posturing, motivated by a mistaken interpretation of Vuestra Merced's, concern, that reveals his own character as narrator. In a similar vein, L. J. Woodward's “Author-Reader Relationship in the Lazarillo del Tormes,” Forum for Modern Language Studies, 1 (1965), 43-53, focuses on psychologizing, which treats the protagonist in isolation from his society. Hitchcock and Woodward's type of atomistic interpretation tends to favor ingenious readings based on the unreliability of the narrator, thereby losing the total design of the work.

13 Guillen was the first to note the importance of el caso for the structure of the novel (“La disposición temporal,” p. 269). Rico speaks of el caso as the key to the novel (La novela picaresca, pp. 21–25).

14 The servant-master relationship as elucidated by Lázaro's phrase “el señor Arcipreste de San Salvador, mi señor, y servidor y amigo de vuestra merced” (p. 104). Note that Vuestra Merced in this study is regarded as the superior rather than as the friend of the Archpriest. Both Stephen Gilman in “The Death of Lazarillo de Tormes” and A. Bell in “The Rhetoric of Self-Defense of ‘Lázaro de Tormes,’ ” Modern Language Review, 68 (1973), 84—85, treat Vuestra Merced as the friend. For attempts to identify Vuestra Merced, see Richard Hitchcock's “Lazarillo and ‘Vuestra Merced’ ” and Fred Abrams' “To Whom Was the Anonymous Lazarillo de Tormes Dedicated?” Romance Notes, 8 (1966), 273-77. The most valuable study on the purely narrative function of Vuestra Merced as “destinatorio” is by Rico (La novela picaresca, pp. 25–29).

15 Lázaro Carreter concludes similarly: “… ‘Vuestra merced,’ que se ha dirigido al pobrete y no a su amigo para inquirir noticias sobre el picante runrün que le ha llegado, queda perfectamente definido como socarrón impenitente, como ávido gustador de burlerías, que ha asentado a Lázaro en su última servidumbre. gastándole la más sangrienta broma: la de hacerle contar, por irrisión, su vida” ‘His Grace, who has addressed himself to this poor devil and not to his friend [the Arch-priest] to request information about the devious rumor that has reached him, is perfectly defined as relentlessly cunning, as an avid joker who has placed Lázaro in his ultimate servitude, making him the brunt of the cruelest joke, having him recount his life to be laughed at.’ (“La ficción autobiográfica,” p. 209).

16 The supposition that Vuestra Merced is conducting a moral investigation is inconsonant with Lázaro's experience in society. It also introduces a foreign element into the otherwise consistent presentation of a society corrupt from top to bottom. From the type of portrait that the anonymous author of the Lazarillo has drawn, we must assume that, as far as Lázaro's perception is concerned, Vuestra Merced, like everyone else, will not be motivated by religious or ethical scruples. It is also important, however, to remember that the sixteenth-century reader (a member of the more or less restricted public who could afford to buy books) would become seriously interested in el caso and would hence identify with Vuestra Merced—perhaps the one man who could exert an influence for change in a hypocritical society.

17 See Louis Pérez' “On Laughter in the Lazarillo de Tonnes,” Hispania, 43 (1960), 529-33.

18 On the idea of a movement from Chapter vii to the Prologue, i.e., the Prologue as Epilogue, see Gilman's “The Death of Lazarillo de Tormes,” p. 153, and Lázaro Carreter's “Construcción y sentido,” p. 120.

19 Of the many studies that in recent years have touched upon the structural role of the Prologue, the most valuable contributions are found in Gilman's “The Death of Lazarillo de Tormes,” pp. 149–53, Rico's “Los problemas del Lazarillo,” Boletín de la Real Acadeinia Española, 46 (1966), 277-96, and Lázaro Carreter's “Construcción y sentido,” pp. 120–30. For a general study, see also Joseph L. Laurenti's Los prólogos en las novelas picarescas españolas,“ (Madrid: Castalia, 1971), pp. 23–50, and the presentation of the text of the Prologue itself, pp. 61–63.

20 For a specific concept of mediation as applied to the novel, see René Girard's indispensable study Mensonge romantique et vérité romanesque (Paris: Grasset, 1961). In his first chapter, “Le Désir ‘triangulaire,’” Girard discusses the mediator in terms of Don Quixote, the first great Western novel (pp. 11–12): “Don Quichotte a renoncé, en faveur d'Amadis, à la prérogative fondamentale de l'individu: il ne choisit plus les objets de son désir, c'est Amadis qui doit choisir pour lui… . Nous appelerons ce modèle le médiateur du désir. L'existence chevaleresque est l'imitation d'Amadis au sens où l'existence du chrétien est l'imitation de Jésus-Christ” ‘Don Quixote has surrendered to Amadis the individual's fundamental prerogative: he no longer chooses the objects of his own desire—Amadis must choose for him… . We shall call this model the mediator of desire. Chivalric existence is the imitation of Amadis in the same sense that the Christian's existence is the imitation of Christ’ (trans. Yvonne Frec-cero. Deceit, Desire, and the Novel: Self and Other in Literary Structure [Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, 1965], pp. 1–2). Edmund Leach in “Genesis as Myth” and Other Essays (London: Jonathan Cape Ltd., 1969) views mediation from an anthropological perspective: “In every myth system we will find a persistent sequence of binary discriminations as between human/superhuman, mortal/immortal, male/female, legitimate/illegitimate, good/bad … followed by a ‘mediation’ of the paired categories thus distinguished. ‘Mediation’ (in this sense) is always achieved by introducing a third category which is ‘abnormal’ or ‘anomalous’ in terms of ordinary ‘rational’ categories. Thus myths are full of fabulous monsters, incarnate gods, virgin mothers. This middle ground is abnormal, non-natural, holy. It is typically the focus of all taboo and ritual observance” (“Genesis as Myth,” p. 11).

21 Juan Luis Vives, who, in De Subventione Pauperum, discusses the brutalizing effects of necessity on the poor, regarding their crimes as human and to a certain extent as inevitable. Vives proposes solutions to poverty and its accompanying effects, on both a political and a moral level (see Marquez, pp. 98, 130-31).

22 For an interpretation of the novel as an ironic presentation of Lazarillo's rise to a new social status, see R. W. Truman's study “Lázaro de Tormes and the ‘Homo novus’ Tradition,” Modern Language Review, 64 (1969), 62-67. See also C. B. Morris, “Lázaro and the Squire: ‘Hombres de bien,‘” Bulletin of Hispanic Studies, 41 (1964), 238-41.

23 I discuss the development of Lázaro's verbal being and his awareness of the power of literary art in greater detail in the third section, which focuses on the movement in the novel from the “experiencing I” (Lazarillo) to the “narrating I” (Lázaro).

24 “I beg your Honor to receive this little gift from the author who would have written it better if his desire and skill had coincided” (Alpert's translation, p. 24).

25 For the distinction between the narrating I and the experiencing I, see Leo Spitzer's “Zum Stil Marcel Prousts,” Stilstudien, ii (Munich: Max Hueber Verlag, 1929), 365-497.

26 See Woodward's “Author-Reader Relationship in the Lazarillo del Tonnes.” In a follow-up study of Woodward's article, A. D. Deyermond provides a more balanced view of the problem (see “The Corrupted Vision: Further Thoughts on Lazarillo de Tonnes,” Forum for Modern Language Studies, 1 [1965], 246-49).

27 See my article “Asides and Inferiority in Lazarillo de Tormes: A Study in Psychological Realism,” Studies in Philology, 66 (1969), 119-34.

28 Many studies have dealt with the relationship between the real author and the fictional protagonist. Lázaro Carreter's “Construcción y sentido” suggests that the author's aspirations are different from Lázaro's (p. 122) and that the author is skeptical about the desire for literary glory expressed in the Prologue (p. 124). Lázaro Carreter views the novel as a converso author's expression of disenchantment (pp. 127–31). Nevertheless, he ends his study with an observation on the author's ultimate compassion for his character (p. 134). Gilman also feels that the author rejects the fame sought by his persona and that the Prologue itself represents a break between the two yo's (“The Death of Lazarillo de Tormes,” pp. 150–53).

29 Not only has the author created sympathy for Lazarillo throughout the book, but as the Prologue indicates, he has also, even in his final distancing, identified closely with his protagonist's existential dilemma. There is. moreover, something curious about the anonymous author's often purported cynicism regarding the prestige and power of literature, given the meticulous construction of the text. It appears that the code of society portrayed in the novel is, in the last analysis, disapproved of by both author and narrator, although Lázaro apparently thinks he can beat the system on its own terms by turning to literary art as a means of defense. Perhaps the author does step back at this point, with the implicit assumption that such an undertaking cannot succeed.

30 Claude Esteban draws a similar conclusion in a larger social context (“La Trajectoire de l'échec,” Critique, No. 260 [1969], pp. 27–40). The novel, viewed as a pessimistic reflection on the historical and economic conditions of sixteenth-century Spain from the vantage point of a particular class of Spaniards, represents nothing less than the thwarted ascendancy of a bourgeoisie in Spain.

31 Charles Minguet points out that whenever Lazarillo supposes divine intervention and assistance, his supposition is ironically and cruelly undercut (see “La Projection.” Pt. ii of Recherches sur les structures narratives dans le Lazarillo de Tormes [Paris: Centre de Recherches Hispaniques, 1970], pp. 75–84 and esp. pp. 11617). In the scene of the angélico calderero, for example, Lazarillo initially regards the tinker who supplies him with a key to the cleric's locked bread box as a heavenly messenger, but in the end the supposedly divine instrument turns out to be infernal, causing Lazarillo's downfall. Note, however, Márquez' emphasis on Lazarillo's faith (pp. 101–02).