AGAINST WAR

 EL ESTEBANILLO GONZALEZ A JEW AGAINST THE BLACK LEGEND. THIS BOOK IS THE KEY TO UNDERSTANDING THE MOCKING THOUGHT OF OUR GREAT PICARESQUE NOVEL (FROM MY BOOK "EL DOCTOR LAGUNA AUTHOR DEL LAZARILLO"

 ESTEBANILLO AND THE BLACK LEGEND. PART II

Second parts never was good. Notwithstanding, this assertion fails in the Quijote as well as in the Estebanillo González, which in the second installment is shown to be superior. He was small and a buffoon, a regular in Brussels taverns and a user of brothels from half of Europe. Long live the Spanish infantry who covered themselves with stripes and bravery in Flanders. The thought may disgust the globals, but the courteous joker, the rancher from the field kitchens, does not tire of shouting Santiago and shuts down Spain. With reason and without her my country.

 It is the voice that is behind that cry, not the intellectual explanations of the historiography to use and that has become a black legend. The most cowardly organize wars, the lords in their castles and the popes in their palaces. It was suffered by the bravest and most long-suffering, the castes of those below. They fight for Christ, they shed their blood in defense of faith and the cross. The tragedy of Spain is that Rome did not believe in tears and the pontiffs at the time were entrenched in their business.

Spain against all and mihi non placet Hispania that Erasmus intimated. The Dutch bankers on the one hand and those of San Juan de Letrán financed those wars of religion. The author of this work, whose converted father belonged to the cast of Sephardim who took refuge in the Eternal City and in the shadow of the money from San Pedro did his business, does not hurt garments

This work denounces what the black legend silences between jokes and jokes, such as the story of his own emasculation to which he was sentenced for raping a maid. The passage has been deleted from editions after the prince edition.

The thing must have happened in Brussels. It was the punishment for this type of crime that was customary in the old thirds, as prescribed by the ordinances.

 When the slaughterer was already prepared with the slaughtering equipment and the jifero was preparing to make meat in the most reserved and valuable part of his anatomy, a messenger from Cardinal Infante - the bastard brother of Philip IV - arrives with the paper. From the fright our character almost died and from the joy of the pardon he found a tavern and got drunk as usual.

It is one of the tersest, most delicious, and most amusing passages in our classic literature. And it preserves a pungent and pungent modernity, never better said, that seems to have been just yesterday. Our hero came out of Cappadocia, they wanted to cast him but they couldn't by the grace of God and he continues his pranks and adventures that, contrary to what happens in other picaresque novels, he usually succeeds.

As a campsite for the troops and between the baggage and baggage, what is now called Logistics, he defends the emperor's flags.

The war however smells bad. To corpse, to mule shit, and singed by the burning of the cities and there used to be no mercy for the vanquished. The towns were looted, the women forced by the soldiers. But there is in all of it an epic vibration and even a certain generosity. Estebanillo always manages, crossing the Rhine with his regiment several times. His column arrives at nothing less than CRUZENAQUE (Kreuznach) in Prussia almost on the Russian border and tells what life was like in Brussels where the headquarters were located. At sunset, the staff left in the Cur, which was like the Prado in Madrid.

 In Mansfeld he sets up a tobacco and liquor stall where he earns money because the legionnaires did not see extravagance. He came and went with the convoys carrying his trifles and remedying the needs of the troops, he sells them boots and piales, campaign clothing usually requisitioned from the Dutch whom he hates as much as the Jews, being of the same race on his father's side and speaking Hebrew perfectly, but clothes don't hurt him.

 He calls the first gurglers because when they speak it seems that they gargle and a Jew in Vienna who did not pay a debt has him put in a snow pit that was a kind of refrigerator that houses had at that time to preserve food. He hooks up with several German girlfriends and gets them on point. He doesn't mind serving the world's oldest trade of pimp.

In Mainz he has a duel with a companion over cheating at dice.

And he was so unscrupulous with his merchandise that he baptized the beer that he sold with the urine of the horses and the parishioners did not notice how thirsty and drunk they were during these weddings at Cana. That they don't have wine, well eat the jug, they won't notice.

He tells us about the victory of the Spanish arms against the French in Namur and when he arrives in Leuven, he gets drunk so as not to vary.

I arrived in Leuven, a distinguished university in Brabant, and refreshed