My con­tri­bution to the Iberian Con­nec­tions workshop is about the con­nec­tions that are made between times, places and peoples through the medium of the printed book. It forms part of my ongoing research into the early modern reception of the Jewish his­torian Flavius Josephus, as he was trans­lated into Castilian for non-professional readers. The title of my project, In the Tracks of Josephus: Trans­lating Jewish History and Belief in Early Modern Iberian Worlds, 1492–1687 indi­cates its chrono­logical scope. In these two cen­turies, copies of Castilian trans­la­tions of Josephus trav­elled throughout the His­panic and Luso­phone worlds and their contact zones, from Asia (China, the Philip­pines), through North Africa, Europe to the New World (Mexico, Peru, Surinam, among others). What was the appeal of Josephus for early modern lay readers? How was this ancient Jew trans­lated, and made to speak again, in Spanish and Por­tuguese worlds that had denied their Semitic past and were con­tin­ually haunted by it? Textual evi­dence alone cannot answer these and other ques­tions. The trans­lated word must be read within (and some­times against) its material means of trans­mission: the printed book.

My talk is based on trans­la­tions of Jose­phus’s Antiq­uities and the Jewish War, both pro­duced in the 1550s, and both printed by the pro­lific Flemish printer Martín Nucio (1515–1558). Nucio pub­lished in Antwerp so many of the ver­nacular works we now con­sider to be a central part of the ‘Spanish’ canon (Juan de Mena’s Laberinto de Fortuna, Celestina, Lazarillo de Tormes, the Romancero…): ‘Spanish’ in quo­tation marks because, these works, like those of Josephus, had an inter­na­tional read­ership and owe their exis­tence to an inter­na­tional and tran­shis­torical cul­tural network.

My case study needs a bib­li­o­graphical context. I provide it here, in two parts. In the bib­li­o­graphical list below this article, I sum­marise the Iberian trans­la­tions, with basic bib­li­o­graphical infor­mation. To this list I add some primary texts that derive from Josephus and travel in his company, as direct or indirect inter­locutors. Second, I offer a few notes on the story that might be woven on the basis of the history of the printings of the ‘Spanish’ Josephus.

A Story (in Draft)

Embedded in the print history sum­marised below is a story with many threads –– or, rather, many stories, inter­laced with mul­tiple threads. The word ’embedded’ raises ques­tions, of course, about the researcher’s rela­tionship to the object of her inquiry. I recognise that as I purport to follow ‘In the tracks of Josephus’ (to borrow the title of my project) in many ways the ‘tracks’ that I am fol­lowing are my own.

Nonetheless, if I may still speak of ‘facts’, as I review the Iberian corpus from the broad per­spective of early modern European ver­nacular trans­la­tions (into French, Italian, German, Dutch, etc.) I am struck by the rel­ative modesty of Castilian trans­la­tions (I avoid the term Spanish for the moment, since Castilian was also a lan­guage of Por­tuguese book culture). From the 1530s onwards, volumes of Josephus’s com­plete works appeared in French, Italian and German, each with copious reprints and retrans­la­tions. No such volume was ever printed within Spanish and Por­tuguese domains (even in the late XVIIIc, when new Castilian and Por­tuguese com­pi­la­tions were printed, they failed to include Against Apion). The rel­a­tively sparse print history does not signal lack of interest within Iberia, its global domains and contact zones. Ref­er­ences and influ­ences abound in a myriad of lit­erary and his­to­ri­o­graphical genres; scholars such as Benito Arias Montano mined Jose­phus’s writings; the plans for the Escorial were thought to be based on his description of the Temple of Solomon. Copies in Latin, Spanish, French and Italian were regular items in early modern Spanish and Por­tuguese private, eccle­si­as­tical and monastic libraries. The 1544 editio princeps, printed in Basel, was ded­i­cated to Diego Hurtado de Mendoza, Charles V’s envoy; it was based on Greek man­u­scripts that Mendoza himself pro­vided, and was edited by his librarian, the Dutch humanist Arnoldus Arlenius. Josephus trav­elled across Iberian domains and its contact zones, from the far East, in Hin­dustan and China, to the New World (it was one of the ‘books of the brave’), where it was read and used in Mexico, Surinam, Peru and else­where. Not just Josephus but his avatars too: legends about the destruction of Jerusalem, in the Vin­dicta Sal­va­toris tra­dition, were often drama­tised (including in Nahuatl) for exem­plary per­for­mance; Josippon, the tenth-century Italian Jew whose account of the Jewish War derives from Josephus, became the prime source for Jewish readers well into the early modern period.

The Iberian reception thus has a very dis­tinctive char­acter, with unique fea­tures: each volume tells a story of Iberia’s tor­tured (and tor­turing) rela­tionship to its Jewish past. The anonymous Catalan trans­lation of the Antiq­uities, pub­lished in Barcelona in 1482, was the very first ver­nacular trans­lation to have been printed. In 1492, only a few months before the Edict of Expulsion, and shortly after the con­quest of Granada, the Royal Chron­icler Alfonso de Palencia pub­lished a volume com­bining his trans­la­tions of The Jewish War and Against Apion. This was another first: it was the only time these texts would ever be coupled in the ver­nacular. In a recent article, I sug­gested that this Castilian pairing, like the Catalan Antiq­uities, was the last remnant of the medieval textual con­vivencia between Christian, con­verso and Jewish readers. These ties to the past were cut in 1532, when Juan Cromberger revised Palen­cia’s trans­lation of the Jewish War, but sup­pressed Against Apion. At the end of his edition, he declared that Against Apion was not rel­evant to the destruction of Jerusalem and the fate of the Jews. Cromberger’s note reap­pears in the reprints of 1536 and 1551, alerting non-Latinate Christian readers to the work’s exis­tence, even as it veiled its actual content. Nucio’s 1554 edition of an anonymous Castilian trans­lation of the Antiq­uities also includes Jose­phus’s Life and the spu­rious De Imperio rationis (On the Sov­er­eignty of Reason), attributed to Josephus since the Church Fathers. Nucio’s com­pi­lation is also unique in its com­bi­nation and arrangement of texts. A mere accident, perhaps, but it invites a par­ticular reading. I shall test it out in my talk.

Only in Spanish and Por­tuguese domains did the ver­nacular Antiq­uities appear on an index of printed books. Thus, shortly after Nucio com­mis­sioned a new trans­lation of The Jewish War (Cordero, 1557), the non-Latinate layper­son’s official access to ver­nacular trans­la­tions was limited to a work that had been absorbed into a Christian vision of Jewish obduracy, fac­tion­alism, and Divine pun­ishment. The Castilian Josephus, then, was read under the sign of death –– the death of Jews, and the death of Judaism. The need to con­tin­u­ously repeat this literal and sym­bolic death seems a dom­inant feature of the Christian print history. Cordero’s trans­lation of the Jewish War opens with an index of dead Jews for the readers’ ‘mar­avilla grande y espanto’; MSS indices and mar­ginalia in copies of Palen­cia’s 1492 trans­lation are further evi­dence for the fas­ci­nated horror of slaugh­tered Jews. However, Jose­phus’s writing resists reductive readings. Even the Jewish War con­tains stories of resis­tance and transcendence.

Moreover, we must beware of con­structing too linear a history of printed books: print and reading his­tories are not iden­tical. Sur­viving copies of Palen­cia’s 1492 volume attest to its con­tinued sixteenth-century use. Though Cromberger had sup­pressed Jose­phus’s daz­zling defence of Judaism, Against Apion was still available, and being read. Like the book itself, ‘the laws of the Jews live on’ (a comment in one of the most exten­sively anno­tated copies). Nonetheless, it was left to Sephardic Jews to reclaim Against Apion, first in Con­stan­tinople in 1566, when Samuel Shulam added a Hebrew para­phrase to his edition of Abraham Zacuto’s Book of Genealogies, and then in 1687 when Josefo Semah Arias retrans­lated it into Castilian via the French. Semah Arias wrote for the Sephardic Jews of Ams­terdam, as part of the movement of reju­daization, sup­ported by the printing press of the Por­tuguese Jew David de Castro Tartas. Again, we have another unique volume in the history of Josephan edi­tions. This is the only time the work was pub­lished inde­pen­dently before the twen­tieth century, and its format and para­texts are elo­quent. Divorced from all the critical appa­ratus that had guided Christian readers of the Latin, Greek and ver­nacular edi­tions, the volume is a pocket vade­mecum, a tes­timony to the endurance of Judaism and the Sephardim themselves.