Spiritual Mother or Complete Human?: Gender and Existence in Miguel de Unamuno’s San Manuel Bueno, mártir

In the eighty years since Miguel de Unamuno first published his short but influential novel San Manuel Bueno, mártir (1931) critics have approached the work from many angles, including literary, philosophical, biographical, theological, psychological, socio-historical, gender and class perspectives. Indeed, it borders on the cliché to comment on the exhaustive variety of theoretical standpoints that critics have adopted while interpreting Unamuno’s last novel.¹ In recent decades, however, a focus on the narrator of San Manuel Bueno, mártir, Ángela Carballino, has partially replaced an earlier tendency towards biographical and philosophical readings that attempt to compare or contrast Unamuno with his atheist-priest protagonist. If Don Manuel represents the existential void caused by religious skepticism, and Blasillo – the village idiot – symbolizes equally unsatisfactory blind faith, Ángela appears to be the one character capable of synthesizing faith and doubt, or at least of sustaining them in dynamic opposition.² Ángela’s gender – specifically her identity as a spiritual mother – grants her this unique ability. It seems that Ángela’s maternal qualities will allow her to avoid the existential despair of the male characters. Ironically, however, the text also vouches for Ángela’s status as an hombre/homo, a term that Unamuno employs for thoughtful humans who wrestle with life’s important questions. A struggle ensues between Ángela’s maternal qualities and her human search for answers. Ultimately, her humanity trumps her motherhood and subjects her to the same human crisis as Don Manuel and Lázaro.

In facing the problems presented by Don Manuel’s character of the unbelieving Christian, some critics attempt to rehabilitate Don Manuel by focusing on his portrayal as a Christ figure: his name, “Emmanuel,” suggest as much.³ Attempts to demonstrate his Christ-like nature, however, prove unconvincing in the long run. Don Manuel does many admirable things: he ministers to the sick and the dying, he joins the peasants in their labors, he aids the village doctor and teacher, and he attempts to bring spiritual solace to his parishioners even in violation of Church doctrine. His service to others certainly seems Christ-like. But this vein of interpretation must ignore what Walter Glannon has argued about the internal logic of San Manuel Bueno, mártir, that “expressions dealing with religious matters are not factual and thus have no truth value” (323). Don Manuel’s altruism originates from his desire to spare others the existential crisis that he has suffered. All of his good actions aim to uphold the lie – or dream, using the parlance of the novel – of future salvation, a salvation that Don Manuel’s perspective emphatically denies. Interpretations that view Don Manuel positively from a religious standpoint focus on his self-sacrifice and suffering for others, but in doing so they overlook his disavowal of Christian metaphysics and eschatology.

This line of interpretation must also ignore Don Manuel’s attitude toward this life and toward the very people whom he presumes to serve. Don Manuel’s understanding of the other villagers involves nostalgic idealizing at best; at worst, he impedes attempts at self-betterment. Since according to the logic of the work there exists no afterlife, one might expect Don Manuel to focus instead on meaning in this world. Manuel rejects, however, any attempt to better the villagers’ socio-political situation. According to his logic, a more just life would lead to leisure, leisure to contemplation, and contemplation inexorably to existential angst. Don Manuel quashes Lázaro’s well-meaning attempt to establish a Catholic agricultural union and chides him saying, “¿Y no crees que del bienestar general surgirá más fuerte el tedio de la vida?” (152). Don Manuel further rejects socialism, though he agrees with Marx that religion is the opiate of the masses. Don Manuel, however, prefers the drug-induced stupor. He comments to Lázaro, “Opio, sí. Démosle opio” (152). These comments suggest that for Don Manuel the existential crisis trumps any and all other human problems, as when he tells Lázaro that it is “¡Mil veces peor que...