Las quatrocientas respuestas a otras tantas preguntas [suivi de] La segunda parte de Las quatrocientas respuestas

The fifth edition of the first part; the first was published in 1545 by the same publisher in the same city, while the two subsequent editions appeared in Saragossa the same year, published by Diego Hernàndez and Jorge Coci, a fourth appearing at Amberes, printed by Martin Nuncio. The extremely rare first edition of the second part, never reprinted. A third part was planned but never saw the light of day. The two volumes appeared anonymously, but an acrostic on leaf cxxxv clarifies the mystery of the author: “Frey Luys de Escobar”. They are dedicated to Luis Enríquez y Téllez-Girón (1542-1572), the sixth Admiral of Castile and his wife Doña Ana de Cabrera, Duchess of Medina and Countess of Modica.
Gothic letter in two and sometimes three columns. Two armorial title pages printed in red and black. Title of second volume heightened in red with an attractive Gothic initial. Printer’s devices to verso of the eighth leaf of first volume and end of the index of second. 
 
Early 19^th century light brown armorial calf with the arms of Viscount Strangford (1780-1855), spine in six compartments with gilt dentelles at head and food, blindstamped roulettes and gilt fillets, date and place of publication gilt at foot of spine, gilt arms to covers and a frame of double gilt fillets and blindruled dentelles, blindstamped corners, roulettes and gilt fillets to edges of covers and headpieces, gilt dentelle frame to covers by C. Lauffert. J. Headpiece and joints skillfully restored.
 
Clumsy repair to title of first volume touching engraving and catchword on verso, a few leaves a little cropped. Corner of title of second volume skillfully repaired, lack to bottom of same leaf patched, repaired wormholes to first tree leaves of index, very slightly touching one letter, a small dampstain to leaf cxiiij, a few leaves browned. Occasional paper repairs – to final leaf of second volume – masking wormholes affecting a few letters.
 
This copy, Brunet’s reference copy, was included in the Marquess of Blandford’s sale in London in 1812. The bibliography states: “a complete copy, beaten up to 75 pounds and 12 shillings (1,925 francs approximately),” and adds, “this work is a folio, and of the utmost rarity, there being perhaps three copies in France.”
 
In this work, friar Luis de Escobar (1475-1552 or 53) sets out to answer four hundred questions from some important figures of the aristocracy, including Fadrique Enríquez de Velasco (1490-1538), the uncle of the dedicatee and fourth Admiral of Castile. These exchanges are a dialogue in a question and answer format, presented as verse litanies, with the exception of the second part, which is written almost exclusively in prose. 
 
This tradition of preguntas-respuestas was one of the dominant forms of didactic Spanish poetry and was around from the 15^th century on, especially thanks to the great Spanish writer Jean de Mena (1411-1456), the most famous author of Cancioneros. Composed generally in Castilian (rather than Galician-Portuguese or Latin), these poetic and theological summaries were always addressed to noble patrons. Emblematic of Renaissance Catholic Spain, they mix the popular oral tradition and the encyclopedic knowledge of the elite. Ticknor, in his History of Spanish Literature, examines the evolution of this literary genre: “Originally, such questions seem to have been nothing more than enigmas and curios; but in the 16^th century they gradually grew more serious in form and ended up taking on a completely didactic direction.”
Escobar touches on all the fields of knowledge and his work, though essentially theological, is also concerned with medicine, philosophy, science, history, entertainment and everyday life. For his answers, he adopts in turn a dogmatic, prosaic, moralizing and sometimes even humorous (or plain cynical) tone.
In a long article in the Dictionary of Conversation and Reading (Paris, Garnier Frères, 1846), Brunet gives, not without a touch of humor, several examples of questions that reflect this diversity:
“Who was the first writer in the world?...The inventor of writing – our monk responds – was Jubal, who lived before the flood and knew that Adam had predicted that the world would be twice destroyed: by water first and then by fire. He wrote on two columns, one of stone and one of earth, what he wished to transfer to the posterity of our times and we can still see the stone pillar in Sirida… - the Admiral of Castile wants to known if children already have guardian angels to themselves when they’re still in the womb or whether the angel looks after both mother and child. – Escobar decides that a single angel is enough “because, he adds, the gardener who looks after a pear tree also looks after the pears the tree bears.”… - Do animals have free will? – In which part of the body does the soul live? – Where does it leave the body from at the moment of death? Other questions come from the field of theology. Are bullfights sinful? – Yes, it is a sin to offer the people the spectacle of a corrida, unless you yourself take part in it. – Sometimes we touch on the field of medicine. How many intestines are there in the human body? – This is a very unsavory discussion (may suzio platicar) and you must have been taking medicines to have come up with such a question. – How to stop a toothache? – Take a spoonful of salt, wrap it in material and dip it into boiling oil. Leave it there for the time it takes to recite the Credo twice and then apply the result to your afflicted tooth – you’ll be amazed at the effects. – The friar does not eat salt or saffron. One of his conversational partners makes a joke about his fondness for eggs. Escobar gets angry and gives a rather raw response: “I’m surprised you don’t eat straw! Anyone who brays so should have a donkey’s diet.”
These questions, which can raise a smile and seem desultory to the 19^th century reader like Brunet (and for today’s reader, too) are a reflection of the preoccupations of 16^th century Spain:
“Such as it is, this work, which not a living soul today has taken the trouble – presumably – of perusing, and which Nicolas Antonio - the father of Spanish bibliography – barely mentions, this can of worms is worth being lifted for a moment from the obscurity that devours it. It’s a curious indication of the nature of the intellectual tides at the centre of Castile at the moment of Philip II’s ascension to the throne. Today, these questions and responses that form the hefty tome we’ve just been through are no longer of any significance – other things hold the public interest. But do any of the men we respect so much who, being ignorant of a scientific question, go and find a learned man bent over his books in serious research to ask?
Our heavyweights today know everything without ever having learned anything at all.”
A very good, rare copy, the copy described by Brunet.