A Companion to the Poema de mio Cid

Alberto Montaner

MONTANER, Alberto; ZADERENKO, Irene (eds.), A Companion to «Poema de mio Cid», in collaboration with Peter Mahoney, Leiden; Boston, Brill, 2018, xv + 538 pp., 16 ils. (Brill’s Companions to Mediaeval Philology, 1).— ISBN 978-90-04-36000-6 (hardback) y 978-90-04-36375-5 (e-book). This volume brings together a number of distinguished scholars in the field of Poema de mio Cid studies. It provides an informed introduction to key literary aspects of the poem, and thoroughly examines many of the complex issues that are crucial for a comprehensive understanding of the work (historical context, ideological motivations, prosification in medieval chronicles, the poem’s place in the canon of Spanish literature). Equally important are the new findings that have been put forward since the 1970s, when scholars started to challenge Ramón Menéndez Pidal’s theories that had dominated the philological discourse since the beginning of the twentieth century. Contributors are Matthew Bailey, Simon Barton, Francisco Bautista, Juan Carlos Bayo Julve, Federico Corriente, Leonardo Funes, Luis Galván, Fernando Gómez Redondo, Eukene Lacarra Lanz, Salvatore Luongo, Georges Martin, Alberto Montaner, Javier Rodríguez Molina, Mercedes Vaquero, Roger Wright, and Irene Zaderenko.

MONTANER, Alberto. «The Poema de mio Cid as a Text: Manuscript Transmission and Editorial Politics», en A Companion to «Poema de mio Cid», coord. Irene Zaderenko y Alberto Montaner, A Companion to «Poema de mio Cid», in collaboration with Peter Mahoney, Leiden; Boston, Brill (Brill’s Companions to Mediaeval Philology, 1), 2018 [ISBN 978-90-04-36000-6], pp. 43-88.

The aim of the article is to incorporate the deixis theory into the study of the Castilian epic. Given the oral performance of the Cantar de Mio Cid, the very act of its communication can be analysed by pragmatic tools. Moreover, the spatial and temporal references included in the text, in many occasions, seem to match the ‘here and now’ of the performer and his audience. In the main part of the paper we state that there is a strongcorrelation between the space and time dimensions of the CMC, which is already im-plied by the plot consisting of constant movements (in space and time) of the characters. Firstly, we explore the references to the ‘dynamized’ space, stressing some signifcant manipulations of the deictic phenomenon. In the second part of the article, we argue that the temporal dimension of the poem seems to be dominated by its spatial conceptualization. As a conclusion we suggest to complement the linguistic analysis of the CMC with the pragmatic aspects of the text in order to reinterpret certain passages or to shed some light on the performative character of the Epic genre.

i A Companion to the Poema de mio Cid © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004363755_001 ii Brill’s Companions to Mediaeval Philology VOLUME 1 The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/bmcp iii A Companion to the Poema de mio Cid Edited by Irene Zaderenko Alberto Montaner In collaboration with Peter Mahoney LEIDEN | BOSTON iv Translators: Peter Mahoney (chapters 2, 9, 11, 12, 14, and 15) Javier Pueyo (chapter 4). Ottavio Di Camillo also contributed to the development of the project and to the edition of the text. This book has benefited from funds granted by the Spanish Ministry of Economics and Competitiveness to the Research Project FFI2012-32331: Formas de la Épica Hispánica: Tradiciones y Contextos Históricos II, and to the Project FFI2015-64050: Magia, Épica e Historiografía Hispánicas: Relaciones Literarias y Nomológicas. Cover illustration: First folio of the extant manuscript of the Poema de mio Cid (Madrid,ms. Vitr/7/17, fol. 1r. With kind permission of the Biblioteca Nacional de España. The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available online at http://catalog.loc.gov LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2018008146 Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill-typeface. issn 2405-903X isbn 978-90-04-36000-6 (hardback) isbn 978-90-04-36375-5 (e-book) Copyright 2018 by Koninklijke Brill nv, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Hes & De Graaf, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Rodopi, Brill Sense and Hotei Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill nv provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, ma 01923, usa. Fees are subject to change. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner. Contents Contents v Contents Prologue ix Irene Zaderenko and Alberto Montaner List of Figures xii Notes on Contributors xiii Introduction 1 Irene Zaderenko and Alberto Montaner Part 1 The Codex and the Author 1 The Poema de mio Cid as Text: Manuscript Transmission and Editorial Politics 43 Alberto Montaner 2 The Question of Authorship Irene Zaderenko 89 Part 2 Linguistic Aspects 3 Why was the Poema de mio Cid Written Down the Way It was? Roger Wright 4 A Closer Look at the Poema de mio Cid’s Language 137 Javier Rodríguez Molina 5 On the Arabic Loanwords in the Poema de mio Cid 169 Federico Corriente Part 3 Poetic Aspects and Structure 6 On the Poetic Technique of the Poema de mio Cid 183 Juan Carlos Bayo Julve 119 vi Contents 7 “Mio Cid Ruy Díaz odredes lo que dixo”: The Voice of the Narrator, the Voice of the Characters 207 Salvatore Luongo 8 Oral Expression in the Poema de mio Cid 247 Matthew Bailey 9 Episodic Logic and the Structure of the Poema de mio Cid 271 Leonardo Funes Part 4 Historical Aspects 10 The Historical Context of the Poema de mio Cid 297 Simon Barton 11 Social Structures and Values in the Poema de mio Cid 322 Georges Martin 12 Legal Aspects of the Poema de mio Cid 347 Eukene Lacarra Lanz Part 5 The Poema de mio Cid in the Cultural History of Spain 13 The Poema de mio Cid and the Canon of the Spanish Epic Revisited 379 Mercedes Vaquero 14 The Poema de mio Cid in 13th- and 14th-Century Romance Historiography 412 Francisco Bautista 15 The Cidian Matter in the 15th Century 463 Fernando Gómez Redondo vii Contents 16 The Canonization of the Poema de mio Cid from the 18th to the 20th Century 497 Luis Galván Select Bibliography Index 527 523 viii Contents Zaderenko and Montaner Prologue ix Prologue Irene Zaderenko and Alberto Montaner The Poema de mio Cid (PMC) has long been regarded as one of the major works of Spanish medieval literature due to its linguistic and literary value, its historical influence, and its foundational role in Castilian epic poetry. It stands side by side with Homeric poems, the Anglo-Saxon Beowulf, the Old French Chanson de Roland, Milton’s Paradise Lost, and other such contributions from the epic genre to the Weltliteratur pantheon. It is significant that the PMC is the only Spanish epic text that has survived almost in its entirety in a manuscript devoted solely to the poem. Though the extant manuscript was produced sometime in the first decades of the 14th century, the poem was previously copied in 1207 as indicated in the colophon. Regarding the relatively late date of the surviving manuscript, it can best be explained by the growing interest in its hero. In fact, by the end of the 13th century the poem began to be utilized as a historical document in several vernacular chronicles, a historiographical practice that continued uninterrupted until the end of the 15th century. During this period, alongside its acceptance as part of the official history of Spain, the work underwent a series of rewritings, revisions, and amplifications, generating new fictional narratives as it moved into other literary genres. Until today, students and scholars who wanted to embark on a critical reading of the poem were faced with a massive collection of scholarly works without the guide of a reliable and up-to-date handbook on the PMC. Such an aid simply did not exist either in English or in any other language. In order to meet this need, our volume brings together the critical knowledge of a number of distinguished scholars, whose undisputed contributions to the field of PMC studies have been widely recognized. Our aim is to provide an informed introduction to key literary aspects of the poem (codicological and textual problems, authorship, reception, language, rhyme and versification, formulaic style, themes, narrative devices, structure), as well as presenting essential aspects and issues for a more comprehensive understanding of the work (historical context, ideological motivations, prosification in medieval chronicles, the poem’s place in the canon of Spanish literature). Equally important is to present new critical interpretations that have been put forward since the 1970s, when scholars started to challenge Ramón Menéndez Pidal’s theories that had dominated the philological x Zaderenko And Montaner discourse since the beginning of the last century. Despite the shortcomings of Menéndez Pidal’s assumptions, some of his contributions are still valid and have rightfully been integrated in the latest analytical approaches. The volume starts with a synoptic introduction that offers an overview of the poem’s key aspects such as its plot, structure and sources, authorship and dating, historical context, prosodic features, language and style, performative traits, and the poem’s place within the discursive spectrum of oral and written literature. This prelude gives way to sixteen chapters that analyze crucial features of the poem, including a critical overview of the most significant studies on the subject. The essays are organized around five areas of inquiry: the codex and its author, the poem’s language, poetic features, historical dimensions, and the poem’s reception from the late Middle Ages through the present. In the first chapter, Alberto Montaner offers a description of the sole manuscript and an overview of competing editorial criteria. In the second, Irene Zaderenko makes a synoptic review of the authorship debate. The chapters by Roger Wright, Federico Corriente, and Javier Rodríguez Molina present an up-to-date overview of the linguistic features of the poem: where and why was it written, a diachronic and synchronic analysis of its distinctive linguistic traits, and the role of the Andalusian Arabic linguistic and cultural background. Juan Carlos Bayo, Salvatore Luongo, Matthew Bailey, and Leonardo Funes review the central problems in the literary appreciation of the poem as a work of art: poetic technique, narrative voice, oral aesthetic, and structure. Simon Barton, Georges Martin, and Eukene Lacarra build upon the massive body of historical scholarship on the Cid and his times to provide an overview of the poem’s historical background, social values, and legal aspects. The final four chapters by Mercedes Vaquero, Francisco Bautista, Fernando Gómez Redondo, and Luis Galván give a detailed account of the poem’s fate as documented by the historiographical treatment of the Cid’s legend in Old Spanish chronicles, reelaborations of Cidian texts (including the 14th-century poem Mocedades de Rodrigo), the poem’s echoes in 15th-century literature, and the ideological interpretations inspired by its 18th-century rediscovery at the dawn of modern Hispanic studies. Given the diversity of views presented in this body of work, the reader will discover very soon that there are conflicting opinions on almost every aspect of Cidian scholarship. We, as editors, did not want to create the false sense of a consensus that does not exist and have allowed each author to expose his or her own point of view. This does not mean that we believe that anything goes, but ultimately it is the reader who must evaluate the data and reasoning of each author and decide who offers the most appropriate solution. Thus, the volume presents competing views on the prosodic features of the poem Prologue xi and how such assumptions guide the way the poem is edited (Bayo’s and Montaner’s chapters); debates about the balance between oral and written traditions in the composition and performance of the poem as the work of a learned author versus a popular jongleur (Zaderenko’s chapter on authorship versus Bailey’s and Vaquero’s); or how linguistic arguments stand out vis-a-vis other criteria to ascertain questions of authorship, geographic provenance, etc. (for example, Rodríguez Molina’s argument – in line with Menéndez Pidal, Rafael Lapesa, and Diego Catalán – that the language of the author is more likely from Castilian Extremadura than from Burgos, which contravenes Zaderenko’s argument about the author as a Benedictine monk from Cardeña). As a matter of fact, the authors often challenge each other on specific issues in explicit cross-references to the pertinent chapters: for example, Montaner challenges Bayo’s concept of deictic dissonance; Rodríguez Molina disagrees with Wright as to where the copyist of the Cid manuscript was trained and with Zaderenko on the region of Burgos as the place of origin of the author; Corriente ends his essay distancing himself from the characterization of the poem as a “frontier song”, which happens to be advocated by Montaner; and so on. Such a range of opinions can be confusing at first, but we considered it necessary to bring together the leading scholars in the field who may agree on some aspects, yet have discrepant views that embody major trends in modern Cidian scholarship. A final remark about the quotations of the PMC. Since the edition to be quoted is often decided by a particular critical interpretation, we decided that all citations – with minor changes in punctuation and resolution of abbreviations – should adhere to the manuscript itself, which is available in facsimile editions and diplomatic transcriptions, as recorded in the final bibliography. Given the wide range of issues that are presented, we believe this volume will be a useful guide for both scholars and students who are interested in the PMC, and a helpful tool for making this Castilian poem better known by an international readership of medievalists and literature students eager to embark on a critical reading of this classic of European belles lettres. xii List of Figures and Tables List Of Figures And Tables List of Figures 0.1 First folio of the extant manuscript of the Poema de mio Cid (Madrid, Biblioteca Nacional de España, ms. Vitr/7/17, fol. 1r) 40 1.1 The complete alphabet employed by the scribe of the extant manuscript of the Poema de mio Cid 86 1.2 Recovering of the Poema de mio Cid, vv. 1121-24 87 1.3 Spectral curves for the various inks used by the hands involved in fol. 3v of the Poema de mio Cid codex 88 2.1 The Cid’s tomb in Cardeña. Beginning of the epitaph written under King Alfonso X’s order c.1272 114 2.2 Historia Roderici (Madrid, Real Academia de la Historia, ms. 9/4922, olim A-189, fol. 77v) 115 3.1 Poema de mio Cid, Biblioteca Nacional de España, ms. Vitr/7/17, fol. 39r 136 7.1 Singular combat (David and Goliath) and open-field battle (the Israelites against the Philistines) 246 8.1 A juglar (jongleur, singer of tales) acting with a musical instrument 270 9.1 The Cid’s route in exile (from Vivar to Valencia) and the affront route (from Valencia to Corpes), according to the Poema de mio Cid 293 10.1 Map of the Iberian Peninsula in 1091 320 10.2 Stages of the Reconquest 321 11.1 The king bids farewell to his army that departs for war 346 12.1 Conquest of a city (Jericho). Miniature of the Biblia románica (1162) 376 14.1 Incipit of the Corónica del Çid Ruy Díaz Canpeador, el qual nunca fue vençido, mas siempre vençedor, manuscript S of the Crónica de Castilla 462 16.1 Title page of the first edition of the Poema de mio Cid, edited by Tomás Antonio Sánchez 522 Notes on Contributors Notes on Contributors xiii Notes on Contributors Matthew Bailey is Professor of Romance Languages at Washington and Lee University. His publications include The Poetics of Speech in the Medieval Spanish Epic (2010). Simon Barton (d. 2017) was Professor of Medieval History at the University of Central Florida. His recent publications include Conquerors, Brides, and Concubines: Interfaith Relations and Social Power in Medieval Iberia (2015). Francisco Bautista (d. 2017) was a professor in the Department of Spanish Literature at the University of Salamanca. He is the author of La materia de Francia en la literatura española medieval (2008) as well as other works on Medieval and Renaissance literature. Juan Carlos Bayo Julve currently is Visiting Professor at the Complutense University of Madrid. His publications on medieval Hispanic literature include editions of the Cantar de Mio Cid and Gonzalo de Berceo. Federico Corriente is Professor Emeritus of Arabic and Islamic Studies at the University of Zaragoza. His publications include Poesía dialectal árabe y romance en Alandalús (1997) and Dictionary of Arabic and Allied Loanwords: Spanish, Portuguese, Catalan, Galician and Kindred Dialects (2008). Leonardo Funes is Professor of Medieval Spanish Literature at the Universidad de Buenos Aires and specializes in historiography, epic poetry, and early medieval Castilian narrative. He has published editions of both the PMC and Mocedades de Rodrigo. Luis Galván is Associate Professor of Literary Theory at the University of Navarra. His recent publications include contributions in El sabio y el ocio, Rewriting the Middle Ages II, and El “Cantar de mio Cid” y el mundo de la épica. xiv Notes On Contributors Fernando Gómez Redondo is Professor of Literary Theory at the Universidad de Alcalá (Spain) and specializes in medieval literature. His most recent studies are the four-volume Historia de la prosa castellana (1998-2007) and the two-volume Historia de la prosa de los Reyes Católicos (2012). Eukene Lacarra Lanz is Professor of Medieval Romance Literatures at the Universidad del País Vasco (Spain). Her most recent publications include “El linaje de Rodrigo Díaz” (2005) and an edition of the Poema de mio Cid (2002). Salvatore Luongo is Professor of Romance Philology at the University of Naples “L’Orientale”. His research focuses on Castilian and Old French epic poems, and narration brevis. His publications include: Le redazioni C e D del “Charroi de Nîmes” (1992); and “En manera de un grand señor que fablava con un su consegero”: il “Conde Lucanor” di Juan Manuel (2006). Georges Martin is a professor at the Université Paris-Sorbonne. His area of expertise is medieval historiography and women’s history. His most recent publications include Chansons de geste espagnoles (2005) and Mujeres y poderes en la España medieval (2011). Alberto Montaner is Professor of Spanish Literature and chair of the department of Spanish Philology at the Universidad de Zaragoza (Spain). His edition of the Cantar de mio Cid is considered a landmark of epic studies. Javier Rodríguez Molina is Associate Professor of Spanish at the Universidad de Granada, Spain. His main research topic is Old Spanish syntax; he has also written several articles on the Poema de mio Cid. Mercedes Vaquero is Professor of Hispanic Studies at Brown University. Her works include: El “Poema de Fernán González” en un “Memorial de Historias” (2008), and La mujer en la épica castellano-leonesa (2005). Notes on Contributors xv Roger Wright Emeritus Professor of Spanish at the University of Liverpool, England, researched and taught courses on the language, history, and oral literature of medieval Spain, from 1972 to 2008. Irene Zaderenko is Professor of Spanish Literature at Boston University. She specializes in Spanish epic poetry, and her recent publications include Problemas de autoría, de estructura y de fuentes en el “Poema de mio Cid” (1998) and El monasterio de Cardeña y el inicio de la épica cidiana (2013). xvi Notes On Contributors Introduction Introduction Zaderenko and Montaner 1 Introduction Irene Zaderenko and Alberto Montaner The anonymous Poema de mio Cid (c.1200) recounts the deeds of Rodrigo “Ruy” Díaz de Vivar, known as El Campeador (the Battler) and as El Cid (from the Andalusi Arabic Sídi, “My Lord”). The poem is comprised of more than 3,700 lines and, based on internal evidence, is usually divided into three parts called cantares (songs). 1 The Plot First Cantar King Alfonso has banished the Cid from Castile after being persuaded by envious courtiers, led by Count García Ordóñez, that the Cid had kept for himself a portion of the tribute he was sent to collect from a Moorish vassal. As the poem opens, the Cid sadly glances around his home in the town of Vivar, which has been quickly stripped for his unplanned departure. With a few followers, he rides to the neighboring town of Burgos, where the adults cower behind closed shutters and doors, while a nine-year-old girl tells him that as per royal command nobody can offer him shelter or provisions. She asks him to move along in peace and with their blessing. The Cid sets up camp on the bank of a nearby river. There he is joined by a knight from Burgos, Martín Antolínez, who pawns a set of chests purportedly containing Moorish gold but are actually filled with sand to the Jewish moneylenders, Raquel and Vidas. The Cid then goes to the Monastery of San Pedro de Cardeña, where he has arranged to shelter his wife, Doña Jimena, and their two daughters. The following night he has a dream in which the Archangel Gabriel assures him that all will turn out well. The next day he crosses the frontier between Castile and the Muslim kingdom of Toledo and begins the life of a warrior in exile. He launches his first campaign in the Henares River Valley. While he takes the town of Castejón, whose defeated residents praise his moderation and fairness, his chief lieutenant, Álvar Fáñez, carries out raids downstream. Both operations pay off handsomely, and the Cid advances to a second campaign in the Jalón River Basin. He extracts tribute from a succession of villages and takes the strategic town of Alcocer. The Moors seek the aid of King Tamín of Valencia, who sends his two finest generals, Fáriz and Galve, to fight the Cid, yet they are routed. Rodrigo asks Álvar Fáñez to take a portion © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004363755_002 2 zaderenko And Montaner of the spoils to King Alfonso as a gift in a first attempt toward winning his pardon. He proceeds down the valley of the Jiloca River and then to the region of the Maestrazgo, which is under the protection of the count of Barcelona. The count confronts him with a large but rather effete army. Once again, the Cid emerges triumphant thanks to his hearty men and shrewd battle tactics. The spoils include the sword Colada, which is worth one thousand marks of silver. The count is taken captive and goes on a hunger strike, but he is cajoled by his jovial host into joining the celebration of his own defeat. Rodrigo releases him unharmed and generously outfits him for his return home. Second Cantar The Cid begins his campaign in the eastern marches. He is no longer interested in pillaging and the temporary occupation of strongholds; rather, his sights are set on conquering the entire region of Valencia, which he wishes to make a homestead and family possession. After Rodrigo takes Murviedro (modern Sagunto), Moors from Valencia try to halt his advance but the Cid’s troops defeat them resoundingly. After three years, the Cid and his band have taken the provincial seaboard as far as the coast, leaving the city of Valencia cut off. At last, the city is starved into surrendering. When the news reaches Seville, the Moorish king unsuccessfully attempts to retake Valencia. The Cid appoints Jerónimo, a French bishop who is also a skilled swordsman, to administer Valencia. Once again, Rodrigo sends Álvar Fáñez to present King Alfonso with gifts and to request permission to allow his family to join him in Valencia. The mission is a success, but it provokes the envy and greed of some members of the court, including the young Infantes of Carrión, Diego and Fernando. Later, they propose marriage to the Cid’s daughters, hoping to gain a portion of Rodrigo’s wealth. Under the protection of Álvar Fáñez, the Cid’s wife and daughters arrive in Valencia to great rejoicing. The interlude of calm and celebration is shattered by an assault led by King Yúcef of Morocco, which unleashes the greatest battle described in the Poema de mio Cid. At the hero’s request, Jimena and the girls watch the bloody engagement from the city battlements so they can see “cómmo se gana el pan” (v. 1643). After employing a clever tactic, the Cid wins the battle. He presents himself to the women with courtly gestures, showing them his bloodied sword and sweating horse. He modestly gives thanks to God for the victory. The massive booty taken from the king of Morocco allows the Cid to send a third and even greater gift to King Alfonso, who grants his pardon and takes personal responsibility for arranging the marriage between the Infantes of Carrión and the Cid’s daughters. The reconciliation of the monarch and Introduction 3 Rodrigo takes place in a solemn assembly of the court on the bank of the Tagus River, where feudal ties are restored and magnificent gifts are exchanged. Afterward, the Cid and his men return to Valencia with the Infantes and many Castilian noblemen. Over a two-week span, the joint weddings are celebrated with sumptuous feasting and games. Third Cantar One day, the Cid’s lion escapes from its cage. The Infantes’ frantic scramble for safety provokes laughter and derision among Rodrigo’s men, who form a human shield between the beast and their sleeping lord. The Cid awakes, calmly leads the lion by the mane back to its cage, and orders those who witnessed the Infantes’ pitiful display to remain silent. Their cowardice is soon reaffirmed, however, when King Bucar’s forces arrive from Morocco in an effort to retake the city. During the battle, the Cid’s men perform admirably, but Diego and Fernando flee from the enemy. The spoils include the sword Tizón, worth 1,000 marks of gold. The Infantes leave Valencia under the pretext of taking their wives to see their new landholdings in Carrión, but they actually plan to dishonor them along the way. After spending a final night in the Corpes Oak Grove, they beat their wives savagely. The Cid’s daughters plead for martyrdom, but the Infantes first whip them until they lose consciousness and then abandon them in the wilderness. Fortunately, the girls’ cousin, Félez Muñoz, has been trailing the party. He arrives on the scene, assists the young women, and sends word of the attack back to their father. Rodrigo sends Muño Gustioz to King Alfonso to demand justice. The monarch convenes a royal judicial court in Toledo where the Cid asks the Infantes to return the swords Colada and Tizón, which he had given them when they left Valencia. Thinking that they have gotten off lightly, the Infantes return the swords. Next, the Cid demands repayment of the dowry he had bestowed upon the young men upon departing from Valencia. The money has already been spent, and the Infantes are forced to draw on the resources of their extended family and lands. Finally, Rodrigo demands satisfaction in the form of judicial duels, pitting three of his knights against the Infantes and their blustering brother, Asur González. The brothers balk because their opponents will be armed with the famous blades that the Cid has just repossessed, but after having conceded their faults, they are unable to back out. Three weeks later, a public trial by combat takes place in Carrión. The Cid’s champions emerge victorious and, although the vanquished are allowed to live, they are disgraced. Envoys dispatched by the princes of Navarre and Aragon arrive seeking the hands of the Cid’s abandoned daughters. Thus, the Cid recovers his 4 zaderenko And Montaner honor and grafts his family line onto those of Spain’s principal rising dynasties. Nothing is left to tell, the poet concludes, except that Rodrigo died peacefully at home on the solemn feast of Pentecost. 2 The Historical Rodrigo Díaz1 The poem is based on the real-life adventures of Rodrigo Díaz, who was born between 1045 and 1049 in Vivar and raised in the court of Fernando I of Castile and León. In his youth, he was a member of the schola regis (royal squad) and was part of the inner circle of Sancho II, who became king in 1065. King Sancho died in 1072, and his brother succeeded him to the throne as Alfonso VI. King Alfonso continued to show favor to Rodrigo, marrying him to a member of the royal family, Doña Jimena, and sending him as the king’s ambassador to the Moorish kingdom of Seville in 1079. The following year, however, the Cid carried out an unauthorized military operation in the kingdom of Toledo, and Alfonso banished him in 1081. Rodrigo placed himself in the service of the Moorish king of Zaragoza and achieved renown as a military leader. He finally made peace with Alfonso and returned to Castile in 1086. The king sent him on expeditions to the realm of Valencia, but in 1089 a new falling out resulted in the Cid’s second and permanent exile. He then decided to establish a protectorate over Eastern Iberia and ultimately conquer it in his own name, attacking the Moorish kingdom of Valencia and seizing its capital in 1094. He was given the honorific Arabic appellation Sídi or “My Lord”, origin of his Castilian surname Mio Cid. Consequently, he became an autonomous feudal lord, who adopted the title of Prince. As such, he was able to marry his daughter María to Ramiro, lord of Monzón, a member of the royal house of Navarre, and his other daughter, Cristina, to Ramón Berenguer III, the count of Barcelona. After conquering more lands, Rodrigo died of natural causes in 1099. His wife Jimena maintained control of Valencia until 1102, when a renewed onslaught of the Almoravids – a Moroccan tribe that invaded the Iberian Peninsula in 1090 – forced the Christians to abandon the city. Jimena 1 Menéndez Pidal’s La España del Cid is still an essential work in order to establish the biography of Rodrigo Díaz because of both the information the scholar garners and the sources he edits. However, it is necessary to take into consideration the clarifications provided by Horrent, Historia y poesía; Fletcher, The Quest for El Cid; Martínez Diez, El Cid histórico, and Peña Pérez, El Cid Campeador, as well as the fundamental studies by Reilly, The kingdom of Leon-Castilla, and Gambra, Alfonso VI, on the reign of King Alfonso VI of Castile and León. Cf. also Barton and Fletcher, The World of El Cid. Introduction 5 took her husband’s remains to the Benedictine Monastery of San Pedro de Cardeña near Burgos, where he was buried. The Poema de mio Cid takes Rodrigo Díaz’s first exile as its starting point, and, at first glance, it seems that it follows Rodrigo’s career rather faithfully from 1089 onward, with the exception of some colorful details. Nevertheless, there is much fiction in the poem. There were probably some fictional details already in its sources, but others were undoubtedly the poet’s invention. Although the story takes place in the locations of his first exile, all the political and military actions that occur prior to the campaign of Valencia are highly fictionalized. The events that transpire between the battle of Tévar and the conquest of Valencia are the closest to history, but almost everything after that lacks historical foundation. The plot that develops after the Cid’s daughters marry the Infantes of Carrión is merely the product of poetical imagination. 3 Authorship and Date of Composition The relationship between truth and fiction in the Poema de mio Cid has played a central role in the debate over the poem’s authorship and date of composition. Ramón Menéndez Pidal first regarded the poem as the work of a juglar (jongleur, minstrel, singer of tales) from Medinaceli – a Castilian town on the border of Muslim-held Spain – who composed the poem around 1140, less than half a century after the Cid’s death, and who was faithful to historical events.2 Many years later, to account for shifts in style and content, Menéndez Pidal posited the existence of two juglares: the first one, who was associated with San Esteban de Gormaz, a town not far from Medinaceli, composed the more historical sections of the poem around 1110; the second one, the Medinaceli juglar, added the more fictional features around 1140.3 Menéndez Pidal’s theory about the type of person the author was and his geographical origin has been embraced by oralists such as Joseph Duggan, who maintain that the poem was improvised by a juglar and copied down from dictation.4 At the other pole was the British scholar Colin Smith,5 who defended the authority of the colophon of the extant manuscript: 2 Menéndez Pidal, ed., Cantar de mio Cid, vol. 1, pp. 71-72. 3 Menéndez Pidal, En torno, pp. 153-54. 4 Duggan, The “Cantar de Mio Cid”, pp. 124-42. He proposes a more nuanced approach in “The interface”. 5 Smith, The Making. 6 zaderenko And Montaner Quien escrivió este libro, dél’ Dios paraíso, ¡amén! Per Abbat le escrivió en el mes de mayo en era de mill e CC e XLV años. (3731-33) The “Spanish Era” is dated from 38 bc; thus, the year 1245 in the colophon is equivalent to 1207 ad. According to Smith, Per Abbat was the author of the Poema de mio Cid and a legal expert who knew of Rodrigo Díaz’s life from archival documents. He was an educated man, and his poem was modeled on French chansons de geste as well as on classical and medieval Latin precursors. In his final publications on this matter, Smith conceded that Per Abbat was probably the copyist and not the author of the poem. He insisted, however, that the author, whoever he was, must have been an educated man familiar with the law who composed the poem around 1207.6 Although contemporary critics no longer attempt to name the author, they usually accept the later dating of the poem and the notion of a more or less learned poet who composed his verses in writing rather than orally. Until now, none of the proposals for placing the author in a specific locale has been supported by solid arguments. Menéndez Pidal’s theories were based on the belief that the geographic details describing the regions of San Esteban de Gormaz and Medinaceli were the product of an author or authors who originated from those towns. But a poet could know those details from hearing or even reading about them, and there is just as much precision about other areas like the region around Calatayud and the basin of the Jiloca River. According to Alberto Montaner,7 the element that most clearly points to a specific geographical area is the persistent awareness of the laws governing frontier life, in particular, the regulations established in the Fuero de Cuenca (c.1189-93). This is consistent with the presence of a strong “frontier spirit”, which allowed the individuals to change their social position beyond the narrow limits of the estate into which they were born (as shown in vv. 1213-15). This suggests that the author may have been an inhabitant (perhaps a lawyer) of the southeast borderlands of Castile, that is to say, somewhere from Toledo in the south to Cuenca in the east.8 The place names of this area are recorded with unusual precision, and it is where the Cid wages his first campaigns after going into exile. While these events are apparently fictitious, they might echo memories of the historical role played by Álvar Fáñez in this frontier region. 6 Smith, “Towards a Reconciliation”. 7 Montaner, ed., Cantar de mio Cid, pp. 304-09 (but see, in general, pp. 258-367). 8 This hypothesis is consistent with the linguistic data; see Rodríguez Molina’s and Corriente’s chapters in this volume. Introduction 7 On the other hand, Irene Zaderenko emphasizes the learned aspects of the author and his use of Latin and French sources. According to her, if we also consider the important role that Cardeña plays in the Poema de mio Cid, it can be argued that the text was composed in the Castilian monastery, the place where the Cid’s remains were venerated and where his cult was kept alive by the monks even beyond the Middle Ages.9 Scholars such as Jules Horrent defended Menéndez Pidal’s notion of successive reworkings of the poem. This stance presupposes a gradual evolution of the narrative from an early oral version – which was shorter and closer to the historical events – that was later retold many times until it reached the written version that exists today. However, the extant poem does not give the impression of a work cobbled together over time by singers of tales from preexisting texts. On the contrary, it displays an essential unity of plot, style, and purpose. It is probably the work of an author familiar with traditional Spanish epic, the new French style, and the law, as well as someone who also had certain knowledge of Latin letters. The only substantial argument for the 1140 date is the reference to the Cid in the Prefatio de Almaria (also known as the Poema de Almería), a poem composed c.1150 about the siege of Almería by the troops of the Leonese emperor Alfonso VII in 1147. This poem hails the hero as “Ipse Rodericus, Meo Cidi sepe vocatus, / de quo cantatur quod ab hostibus haud superatur” (The very Rodrigo, often called My Cid, / of whom it is sung that he was never defeated by his enemies). This mention of a song about the Cid has led several scholars to believe that the Poema de mio Cid was sung by the late 1140s. Although in Medieval Latin these verses could simply mean “it is well known that he was never defeated”,10 they provide some evidence to argue that there was an epic poem on the Cid at that time. Nevertheless, since internal evidence leads to a later dating of the Poema de mio Cid, the reference in the Prefatio de Almaria could be to some earlier tribute to the Cid. This view seems the most plausible, since there is strong evidence suggesting that the Poema de mio Cid was composed toward the end of the 12th century: neither the sobregonel (open skirt) worn by the knights nor the cuberturas (drapery) covering their horses are documented in the Iberian Peninsula before 1186. Likewise, armas de señal (heraldic devices) were not known in Spanish lands until that time. The same holds true for two key terms that describe social relations: fijodalgo (knight of hereditary rank, literally “son of property”) and rico omne (lord, literally “man of wealth”), which first appeared 9 10 Zaderenko, El monasterio de Cardeña. See also her chapter in this volume. See Montaner and Escobar, eds., Carmen Campidoctoris, pp. 102-06. 8 zaderenko And Montaner in documents dating to 1177 and c.1200, respectively. During this same period, monarchs acquired the title of señor natural (lord by birth), meaning that the king was the immediate and common sovereign of all natives of his kingdom, independent of bonds of vassalage. This notion justifies the Cid’s loyalty to the monarch even during his exile when he was not King Alfonso’s vassal. An important aspect of the hero’s character is his treatment of the Moors he defeats: in the Poema de mio Cid, there is no ethos of “crusade” with its absolutes of conversion or death. Muslims are targets of opportunity for practical reasons, such as simple survival and, in the long run, because they are a source of wealth. Religious confrontation is present in the poem only as an incidental factor, and two Muslim groups are clearly differentiated: the residents of Andalusia and the North Africans who invaded the peninsula in the 11th and 12th centuries. Andalusian Moors were allowed to live as neighbors of the Christians and were labeled moros de paz – Muslims who fell under the terms of capitulations or peace treaties. This social label emerged in the 11th century, but invasions by fundamentalist Moroccan tribes – the Almoravids in 1093 and the Almohades in 1146 – led to the expulsion of Muslim populations from newly conquered territories. Only at the end of the 12th century was the attitude of tolerance reflected in the poem reinstated, and communities of mudéjares (Muslims living under the authority of Christian overlords) folded back into the social landscape. This change in attitude toward the Moors coincides with an important renewal of Castilian law culminating in the fueros de extremadura (Law Codes of the Frontier), as in the aforementioned Fuero de Cuenca, which were promulgated from 1185 onward, and the compilation of privileges for the nobility known as the Fuero Viejo de Castilla, the first draft of which was redacted at the beginning of the 13th century. The Poema de mio Cid alludes to these new laws in matters central to its plot, such as the rights and duties of knights, the organization of war bands, the fair distribution of booty, judicial challenges between nobles, etc. These features are not casual additions to the poem, but thematic and structural building blocks independent of any inherited narrative tradition. Altogether, they make it possible to date the Poema de mio Cid to c.1200.11 11 See Barton’s chapter in this volume. Introduction 4 9 The Poet’s Sources It is difficult to ascertain where the poet obtained the historical data about the hero a century after Rodrigo Díaz died. Scholars have pointed to several possible sources: now-lost poems about the Cid’s exploits informed by eyewitness testimonies that were composed during or shortly after his lifetime; legal documents, such as those now held at the Cathedral of Burgos and the Diocesan Museum of Salamanca; and the Historia Roderici, a fairly complete Latin biography of the hero written between 1185 and 1190. To those usually alleged sources, oral history or oral historic traditions available at that time must be added. The hypothesis of primitive now-lost poems is weakened by the lack of evidence proving such cantares noticieros or news-bearing songs existed. This idea, long defended by Menéndez Pidal,12 was supported by the alleged historicity of most of the Castilian epics recorded in later historiographical works, especially the archaic Cycle of the Counts of Castile that referred to the period between 942 and 1037. Since those texts were written down in the 13th century, the only way to explain their historicity was to trace their origin back to early poems contemporary to the events they narrate. Nevertheless, their alleged accuracy has been proven wrong.13 In short, there is no direct or indirect proof that such poems existed.14 Despite the absence of cantos noticieros, it is probable that there were epic poems about the Cid prior to the extant Poema de mio Cid. As we have seen, the Prefatio de Almaria offers sufficient, if not conclusive, evidence to argue that there was an epic song about the Cid around 1150. On the other hand, the Chronica Naiarensis, a Latin chronicle from about 1190, offers an account of the siege of Zamora and the murder of King Sancho II that is epic in tone in which the Cid plays an important role. It is probable, then, that this narration was based on an epic poem that was at least as old as our Poema de mio Cid.15 In any 12 13 14 15 Menéndez Pidal, La España del Cid, II, pp. 570-71; Poesía juglaresca y juglares, pp. 328-29; En torno al “Poema del Cid”, p. 225; La épica medieval española, pp. 123-26 and 169-71. According to him, the canto noticiero was a short epic poem contemporaneous of the events narrated and episodic in character. See Martínez Diez, “Historia y ficción en la épica medieval castellana” and “El Cantar de los siete infantes de Lara: la historia y la leyenda”; Escalona, “Épica, crónicas y genealogías: En torno a la historicidad de la Leyenda de los infantes de Lara”. See Higashi, “Una nota a propósito de los cantos noticieros en el ciclo cidiano”, and Catalán, La épica española, p. 445. This was proposed by Menéndez Pidal, Poesía juglaresca, p. 327, and La épica medieval española, pp. 532-39. See now Bautista “Sancho II y Rodrigo Campeador en la Chronica 10 zaderenko And Montaner case, those sources prove that there was already a legendary tradition, whether poetic or not, which had turned the Cid into an epic hero. Medieval documents generally do not offer much grist for narratives of epic proportions. The known documents related to the Cid himself, especially his marriage contract with Jimena and the donations to the cathedral of Valencia made by both spouses,16 can hardly provide more than the name of some characters, most of which do not coincide with those offered by the Poema de mio Cid. Due to this and other differences, it is unlikely that the poet knew those documents.17 If he had access to the Cid’s personal archive, which seems to still have been preserved at the end of 12th century,18 he could have found more useful data related to the battles of Morella (1084) and Tévar (1090), or to the failed military operation in Aledo, which caused the Cid’s second banishment (1089). The Poema de mio Cid, however, does not show the slightest evidence of such knowledge. Still, the inclusion of historical characters who had nothing to do with the Cid yet were his near contemporaries suggests a familiarity with documents of that time, since their names could not have been remembered in the tradition related to the Castilian hero. The third possibility is highly promising given the similarities between the Historia Roderici and the Poema de mio Cid, particularly regarding the conquest of Valencia.19 The principal objection to such a connection is the poem’s silence about the Cid’s career as a hired sword under the orders of the king of Zaragoza, a topic that the Historia Roderici covers at length. However, the same selectivity is seen in two texts that most certainly derive from the Latin biography: the Linage de Rodric Díaz, a Navarrese genealogy accompanied by a biographical sketch of the hero; and the Carmen Campidoctoris, a Latin panegyric recounting some of the Cid’s battles. Since both compositions can be 16 17 18 19 naierensis”, and Montaner, “Lo épico y lo historiográfico en el relato alfonsí del Cerco de Zamora”, who postulates that the poem known through Alfonso X’s Estoria de España is a reworking of the subject made c.1200-20 influenced by the Poema de mio Cid. Archivo de la Catedral de Burgos, vol. 77, no. 947, and Archivo de la Catedral de Salamanca, caja 43, legajo 2, no. 71 (1101) and 72 (1098); there are available facsimile editions with transcriptions and studies by José Luis Martín Martín, Documentos del Cid y Dña. Gimena, and García Gil and Molinero Hernando, Carta de Arras del Cid: Siglo XI. An edition of other documents and a valuable study of the whole documentation related to the Cid is offered by Panizo Santos, Documentos del Cid en el Archivo Histórico Nacional. For a different view on the poetic use of the marriage contract, see Zaderenko, “¿El autor del Poema de mio Cid conocía la ‘Carta de arras’?”. About the constitution and fate of the Cid’s personal archive, see Montaner, “La Historia Roderici y el archivo cidiano”. See Luongo’s recent analysis, “El discutido influjo de la Historia Roderici”. Introduction 11 dated to c.1200, it was likely during the final years of the 12th century when the Cid became the Christian military leader par excellence in the collective memory, a fact that would encourage the suppression of any reference to his services to a Muslim king. Finally, we must consider oral history, that is, the verbal transmission of more or less ample details about an episode or an individual preserved through several generations. There were still oral references about events that occurred during Rodrigo Díaz’s lifetime that circulated during the reign of King Alfonso X, whose team of scholars were collecting materials around 1270 for the Estoria de España where several details informed by “los que cuentan de lo muy anciano” are recorded.20 Some seventy years earlier, the author of the Poema de mio Cid could have gathered with even more ease this sort of oral history that combined bits of historical fact with anecdotes about the hero’s deeds. It is probable that by the end of the 12th century this oral history had largely merged with the aforementioned epic tradition about the Cid. We may conclude that the poet used, in a masterful way, materials from the Historia Roderici as well as oral history. He surely knew some earlier epic legend or poem about the Cid’s exploits, but probably took advantage of contemporary documents as well. These sources not only provided him with the few accurate historical data which the Poema de mio Cid offers, but, more interestingly, a certain model of the Cid as a hero. He appears as a loyal and judicious vassal (in contrast with the foolish behavior of King Sancho II in the Chronica Naiarensis).21 He is also loyal to King Alfonso VI, although the monarch banishes him due to slanderous accusations (Historia Roderici, Carmen Campidoctoris, Linage de Rodric Diaz). Despite being exiled, the Cid does not react against his king, but becomes a border hero who defeats both Christian counts and Muslim kings (Prefatio de Almaria, Carmen Campidoctoris, Linage de Rodric Diaz), and an outstanding general who overcomes the dreaded Almoravids (Historia Roderici, Linage de Rodric Diaz) and conquers such an important city as Valencia (Prefatio de Almaria, Historia Roderici, Linage de Rodric Diaz). Not only these facts, but also the combination of sapientia et fortitudo, that is to say, prudence and bravery, is typical of the Cid in these works as well as in the poem.22 20 21 22 Menéndez Pidal, ed., Primera crónica general de España, vol. II, p. 876. He is also portrayed as King Alfonso VI’s wise counsellor in the collection of apocrypha that form the Corpus Licinanum, near 1220; cf. Montaner, “El apócrifo del abad Lecenio”. In her chapter of this volume, Mercedes Vaquero hypothesizes that the Poema de mio Cid breaks with a previous Cidian tradition in which he was portrayed as a rebellious vassal, which we find in later sources like the 14th-century epic poem Mocedades de Rodrigo and 12 5 zaderenko And Montaner A Twofold Plot23 The Poema de mio Cid could have ended satisfactorily after the conquest of Valencia once the Cid receives the royal pardon. But the poet prolonged the work with fictitious episodes that enhance the hero’s stature and conclude with his daughters’ second marriage – this time to royal figures –, which is a legendary version of their actual fate. This well-crafted fusion of history and fiction resulted in a finely plotted narrative with two thematic axes: the Cid’s recuperation of his position in Castilian society after reconciling with King Alfonso, and the restoration of his familial honor after the Infantes of Carrión beat his daughters. This twofold plot describes a W-shaped trajectory.24 In each case, a dramatic conflict – first, the exile, and then the affront to his daughters – breaks a state of equilibrium that results in the abasement of the hero, who not only recovers lost ground but achieves an even higher position. From the loss of the king’s favor and the forfeiture of his lands and property, the Cid winds his way through a series of adventures and becomes lord of Valencia, so powerful that he can treat his king nearly as an equal. Later, after his daughters are attacked and abandoned, the Cid attains an even higher status when the young women marry the crown princes of Navarre and Aragon. 23 24 especially the 15th-century romances or ballads. However, the aforementioned 12th- or early 13th-century sources congruently present a character that is very similar to the hero of the Poema de mio Cid. In his recent book Rodrigo Díaz, del hombre al mito, Óscar Martín reaches an analogous conclusion and points out that the Cid’s representation in the poem is similar to the one in earlier sources. He also believes the break with previous traditions occurs more in the “second plot”, which is centered on the Cid’s recently acquired social standing and the new legal procedures for administering justice. Furthermore, Martín shows that in the more traditional plot there is an increased downplay of the king’s emotional hostility towards Rodrigo. He points out that the representation of both king and vassal is shaped by new military models as well as the changing atmosphere brought about by the war between Muslims and Christians at the beginning of the 13th century. See Funes’ chapter in this volume for a more detailed account of the narrative structure of the poem. This is the most accepted opinion since Deyermond published “Structural and Stylistic Patterns in the Cantar de Mio Cid”, a landmark in the internal analysis of the Poema de mio Cid. Funes thinks that an N-shaped trajectory better reflects the poem’s bipartite structure, since there is not an initial positive situation (Poema de mio Cid, p. xxxviii, and his chapter in this volume). This is true as far as the poem starts in medias res. However, as the very poem makes clear, before his banishment the Cid enjoyed an elevated social position, for he had a manor house and vassals, and had served King Alfonso as ambassador to the Moorish King of Seville. Since he is not an “unpromising hero” or a “Cinderella man” at the beginning, the full plot can be diagrammed as a W. Introduction 13 These two sequences are not merely juxtaposed: the second flows directly from the first. In effect, the Cid’s triumphs make his reconciliation with the king possible and incite the Infantes to marry his daughters; the king pardons the Cid after learning of the Infantes’ intentions, perhaps because the proposal reassures him that the court would welcome the reconciliation.25 In any case, the king pursues the arrangement because he thinks that betrothals to highborn grooms show favor to the Cid. On the other hand, the Cid is keenly aware from the outset that his banishment will make it difficult to arrange appropriate marriages for his daughters. After the Infantes’ proposal is made, he has misgivings about such a union and agrees only to comply with the request of his lord. At the end, the two narratives are brought together when those who defamed the Cid and caused his exile join with the Infantes of Carrión and their family together united by the slanderers’ leader, Count García Ordóñez, who acts as an advocate for Diego and Fernando in court. Thus, they all suffer a defeat before the royal magistrate and in the judicial battle. 6 Society and Ideology26 In addition to the interconnection of the plots, the two narratives display an unusual ideological cohesion. During this period, the higher nobility of the heartland, the region where the Cid’s enemies held sway, lived off retainers’ payments and based their privileged position on their families’ prestige and hereditary rights. The colonizers of the frontier lands, in contrast, owed an important part of their wealth to the looting of the Muslim territories. In recognition of the dangerous situation in which they lived and the losses they suffered, these low-ranking squires and peasants could be elevated to the status of knight, thus securing some entitlements enjoyed by the nobility: exemption from taxes, some privileges related to law procedures, and, in particular, the honor inherent to knighthood. Men of the frontier wanted their merit recognized since their wealth was earned through hard work, not inherited as was the case among the northern aristocracy of landlords. The historical Cid was not a man of the frontier in this way, but his life’s upheavals and triumphs turned into literature could exemplify the virtues needed to fight the Moors and the possibility of shining on one’s own, not merely reflecting the glory of ancient exploits and bloodline. However, it would be anachronistic to speak of a democratic spirit in the Poema de mio Cid since 25 26 In their respective chapters, Funes and Martin offer different views of this storyline. On these aspects, see Barton’s and Martin’s chapters in this volume. 14 zaderenko And Montaner the poet does not reject the notion of inherited nobility. What is exalted is the limited social mobility that allows a peasant to become a knight, and a knight to join the highest circles of the nobility by virtue of his own achievements. These ideas are evident in the exile narrative. When the Cid leaves Castile, he is determined to win the king’s pardon with the booty he gains in a series of bellicose adventures. The monarch is thereby put on notice that the former vassal has not been neutralized: he is powerful and on the move, and it would be a good idea to count on him again. Furthermore, even though the Cid is no longer bound by the rules of vassalage, he sends King Alfonso a share of the spoils as required by feudal law. This action carries two implications: whoever behaves in this way never would have embezzled the king as his accusers claim, and despite the unjust treatment he has received, he remains loyal to the monarch. The Cid’s offerings become larger and larger, proof of his steady climb, and they successfully sway King Alfonso and eventually win his pardon. The Cid’s men also earn tangible benefits from their efforts: Los que fueron de pie cavalleros se fazen; el oro e la plata ¿quién vos lo podrié contar? Todos eran ricos quantos que allí ha. (1213-15) The way in which the hero reestablishes himself in the king’s eyes is a perfect expression of the aforementioned “frontier spirit”. This ethos is, perhaps, less apparent in the second part of the poem, but it still underlies the motivations of the characters. For example, the Infantes are cast as scions of the court who are very proud of their lineage, yet they look forward to marrying the Cid’s daughters as the means of tapping into the Cid’s wealth; in return, Rodrigo and his family will receive the honor of being related to members of the king’s inner circle. The Infantes’ proposal awakens the distrust of the hero, who nonetheless deals with his sons-in-law in good faith. But the pretentious Infantes soil their expensive clothing while seeking cover from the escaped lion. Their cowardice is evidenced again in the battle against King Bucar, and it is finally confirmed when they seek vengeance on helpless victims – the Cid’s daughters – instead of challenging Rodrigo and his lieutenants. The opposition between the two brothers and the Cid’s knights heightens the difference between the lofty nobles who cling to the past but cannot prove themselves on the battlefield, and the warriors of the frontier whose swordsmanship has been proved time and again. This contrast also extends to their personal finances: the Infantes are proud of their lands in Carrión but are cash poor, while the Cid and his followers, who endured the confiscation of their estates in Castile, owe their abundant money and possessions to their efforts in the war against the Moors. Introduction 15 The confrontation between the two groups and the different ideologies they represent reaches its climax at the end of the poem when those who had maligned the Cid and the perpetrators of the abuse against his daughters gather in a single faction at the royal court, where the hero, with the king’s support, defeats his foes and, symbolically, the social order they represent. In the first part of the story, the Cid proved he could recover his public honor by fighting the Moors; he now shows he is equally capable of vindicating his private honor by virtue of his command of legal procedures. By defeating his slanderous foes, he demonstrates that in times of both war and peace his core values are preferable to those of a jealous and cowardly aristocracy. That stagnant caste, sheltered too long behind the battlements of pride and lordly privilege, is incapable of accomplishing anything on its own and is ultimately debased before the Cid and his band, who are humbler in origin but morally and martially superior to the aristocrats. 7 Legal Aspects27 The outcome of the story makes it clear that the poem’s author relies on judicial principles of a specific period of time for both his ideology and his aesthetic principles. The initial conflict is expressed in legal terms since the Cid is banished as a penalty for incurring the ira regis (royal wrath). This “wrath” was not just the monarch’s personal feeling, but it was chiefly a legal status. It implied the rupture of the bond of vassalage between the king and his subject, and the forced departure of the latter from the king’s lands. It was a sentence without appeal, since the condemned party had no higher authority to whom he might plead his case. Although it was applied in cases of crimes committed against the monarch or the kingdom, such as rebellion or defiance of a royal mandate, in the poem it arises from false accusations made by mestureros (slanderers) against someone who can do nothing to reverse the king’s decision. To make matters worse, the poem describes unusually harsh conditions of banishment. First, the Cid’s property is confiscated. Historically, this happened only in cases of treason, which is not the case here. Second, the exiled typically had thirty days to set out with his mesnada (military retinue); in the poem, the Cid is given only nine days. Third, the inhabitants of Burgos are forbidden to provision the Cid and his companions. All these details show a vengeful application of the law in its fullest rigor, which stresses the obstacles the hero must overcome and heightens his stature in the process. The severity of the sentence 27 See Lacarra’s chapter in this volume for more details. 16 zaderenko And Montaner serves a dark judgment on this medieval institution, depicting the royal wrath as a biased maneuver used by unworthy courtiers against enemies who cannot defend themselves. This negative presentation does not amount to an outright condemnation of the practice, but does resonate with the sentiment of the cortes (advisory assembly) of the kingdom of León, where Alfonso IX swore in 1188 that anyone accused by mestureros would have the right to be heard in his own defense. Faced with the injustice committed against him, the Cid could have risen up against the king like the rebel vassals who frequently appear in French epic poems of the same period. Instead, the Castilian hero accepts the royal prerogatives and is determined to regain the king’s favor. According to the Fuero Viejo de Castilla, if the exiled and his knights were to attack the king’s lands while serving another lord, they were obliged to provide the monarch with a portion of the booty. Despite the absence of such an obligation since the Cid never attacks the king’s lands, Rodrigo still sends a share of his winnings to Alfonso. Given his beleaguered circumstances, this practice underscores the hero’s loyalty and brings about the eventual reconciliation with the monarch. Legal practices in force at the time of the poem’s composition also surface in the management of the Cid’s growing army. A case in point is the distribution of booty, the prime motivation of the municipal militias fighting on the frontier. Pre-established portions of the booty were allotted to each rank; the leader took a fifth of the total and the remainder was divided in such a way that one part went to each peón (foot soldier) and two parts to each cavallero (horseman, but also knight). Promotion in rank was also formalized: a man who could afford the expenses of a horse and equipment for war could rise from peón to cavallero (villano), thereby gaining some of the entitlements of a hidalgo. The reconciliation between King Alfonso and the Cid, as well as the marriage of his daughters to the Infantes of Carrión, are also depicted in accordance with established procedures and with special attention paid to legal formalisms. A good example is the besamanos, the ritualized kissing of the lord’s hands by a vassal upon accepting an enfeoffment. In the eyes of medieval witnesses, it was not enough that the two parts agreed upon the terms of their arrangement; this ritual had to be staged in order for the feudal pact to take effect. In the Poema de mio Cid, legal formalities become a dramatic imperative in the climatic confrontation at the court in Toledo. The epic genre generally propels the offended party to take rather different measures: after an affront like the one suffered by the Cid’s daughters, one would expect the father to seek private vengeance, marshaling his knights and hurling all the might he could assemble into an assault on the Infantes of Carrión and their entire clan. Introduction 17 The Cid, however, chooses to avail himself of legal procedures dictating how members of the upper nobility could challenge their equals. In order to deflect cycles of vengeance and reprisal, two institutionalized procedures were established during the second half of the 12th century: there was a pact of mutual loyalty and presumed convergence of interests among all those of noble blood; thus, one could not accuse another member of the nobility without a prior declaration of enmity. Furthermore, a noble who wished to accuse another of wrongdoing was required to make a formal denunciation and a demand for satisfaction, which was commonly settled by a judicial duel between the accuser and the accused. If the accuser won, the charge was justified and the accused sank into permanent infamy. The Poema de mio Cid follows the formal requirements for challenges of this sort with exacting care: the cortes are convoked, Rodrigo presents his charges against the Infantes, three of his lieutenants challenge the Infantes and their brother, the king validates the challenges, and it all concludes with the judicial duels. 8 The Hero’s Characterization28 The integration of legal detail into the story is equally important in the first part of the narrative when the hero, instead of assuming the role of an outlaw, behaves as a loyal subject. This choice reflects a key aspect of the Cid’s moral character: his restraint. Another obvious characteristic of the hero is his military prowess. As we have already seen, the Cid has the classical attributes of sapientia et fortitudo, in general, “prudence and strength”, but here more accurately “judiciousness and bravery”. He possesses worldly wisdom, not erudition, and he displays a sense of proportion, foresight, and, above all, shrewdness. As for his strength, it is not just brute force: it is his characteristic courage, his decisive action, his ability to lead, and his commanding attitude both in war as well as when upholding what is right. The Cid’s sapientia is, above all, mesura (moderation), which, depending on the circumstances, expresses itself as reflectiveness, sagacity, or even resignation. In the opening lines of the poem, the Cid thanks God for the tests to which he is subjected. After that, Rodrigo and his men will have to rise or fall on their own. That is their fate, but it also opens up a future filled with opportunity. The Cid recognizes this when he exclaims to his lieutenant, “¡Albricia, Álbar Fáñez, ca echados somos de tierra!” (v. 14). The banishment marks the beginning of a new chapter in the Cid’s life, and he makes the most of it. His 28 See Luongo’s chapter in this volume for more details. 18 zaderenko And Montaner success is the result of the measured self-possession that carries him through life as well as his ability to act without haste or desperation. In the second part of the narrative, that same inner balance allows him to regain his honor through legal maneuverings rather than the slaughter of his foes. The Cid’s fortitudo manifests itself in his mighty arm, his endurance in battle, his capacity for focused engagement, and, above all, the force of his will. It allows him to work through the bitter moments of his departure – for instance, when he separates from his family – and to embark upon an unstoppable march that leads to his lordship of Valencia, the desired reunion with his family, and, ultimately, the royal pardon. In the second part of the poem, his fortitudo allows him to punish the outrage perpetrated by the Infantes without blood-soaked reprisals. Like his sapientia, the Cid’s fortitudo is as effective in peace as it is in war. This model of heroism may be rooted in classical times and in the incipient chivalric model, but it took a unique form in the Poema de mio Cid. Most poems belonging to the epic tradition describe heroes who are far more disposed to excessive violence than the restrained Cid; paradoxically, those heroes are more concerned with internecine struggles of the Christian kingdoms than with military threats their Muslim enemies pose. This new attitude is linked to two different manifestations of the epic. The renunciation of rebellion occurs in the subgenre of the chansons d’aventure, or songs of adventures, already influenced by the Arthurian romance of the late 12th century.29 The transfer of the conflict from the interior of the kingdom to the outside is typical of the borderland epic, whose ethos, as we have seen, pervades the entire Poema de mio Cid. 9 Formal Aspects: the Metrics30 Formally, the Poema de mio Cid seems to be a combination of traditional and new trends in epic poetry, but it is difficult to say for sure since the heroic narrations supposedly composed earlier – with the exception of the prose versions embedded in the 13th- and 14th -century chronicles – have not survived. However, it is likely that the Poema de mio Cid represents a renovation of the Spanish epic tradition, partly influenced by elements deriving from French epic poems and contemporary Latin histories. 29 30 Boix, El “Cantar de Mio Cid”: adscripción genérica y estructura tripartita, pp. 28-50. For more details, see Montaner’s chapter in this volume. Other proposals about the Castilian epic metrics can be found in Bayo’s and Corriente’s chapters in this volume. Introduction 19 The aspect of the Poema de mio Cid that seems closest to the generic conventions of medieval Castilian epic is its meter, which is based on an end pause that marks the break between verses and a caesura that divides each verse into two hemistichs. The hemistichs range between three and eleven syllables, the most common of which contain between six and eight. So, in theory, full lines should have between six and twenty-two syllables, but the tendency is to compensate a short hemistich with a longer one; therefore, line lengths range from nine to twenty syllables, the majority of which are comprised of fourteen to sixteen. This variability indicates that medieval epic metrics was not directly based on syllable count, so important in modern Spanish verse, but on accentual cadence, which was achieved by a certain ratio of rhythmic relevant accents per line according to their syllabic length. In the Poema de mio Cid, with the exception of hemistichs of less than five syllables, there are generally two stresses per hemistich – three if the hemistich contains nine or more syllables. Nevertheless, we still do not entirely understand this accentual and anisosyllabic meter. The other essential element of the metrical system is assonance, which is based on the equivalence of the last tonic vowel of the line: á, é (along with monophonemic diphthong ié), í, or ó (which can rhyme with either ú or monophonemic diphthong ué).31 Thus, mál, Bivár, picár, fár, and casár all rhyme. If the stressed vowel is followed by an unstressed one, both vowels count for the rhyme unless the unstressed vowel is an e; therefore, pinár and mensáje function as a rhyme.32 The stressed vowel ó ~ú ~ ué can be followed by an unstressed 31 32 See here the chapters by Bayo, Montaner, and Rodríguez Molina. This feature can be explained in two ways. The first is related to the apocopation or loss of final –e in Castilian during the 12th and 13th centuries. Due to this phenomenon, monte was usually apocopated in mont, nueve in nuef, and so on. Thus, the –e and null (Ø) endings worked as allomorphs and, since they were not grammatically distinctive, they were neither pertinent to the rhyme. The other explanation (here endorsed by Bayo) is linked to the so-called paragogic -e, added to oxytonic words at the end of verses, a metrical device found, for example, in the Navarrese Roncesvalles fragment dated around 1270; see, for example, vv. 7-9: “Aquí clamó a sus escuderos Carlos el enperante: / ‘Sacat al arçobispo d’esta mortaldade. / Levémosle a su terra, a Flánderes la ciudade’” (ed. Riquer, p. 398), where the normal forms of the second and third rhyme words would be mortaldad and cibdad. Since the sole codex of the Poema de mio Cid lacks any trace of paragogic -e, and due to the much later documentation of that device (from the end of the 13th century onwards), the first hypothesis seems to be the best (see Sánchez-Prieto, “¿Rimas anómalas…?”, and Rodríguez Molina’s chapter in this volume). See Bayo’s chapter for further bibliography on this topic. 20 zaderenko And Montaner e, a, or o, so that Campeadór, nómbre, Alfónso, señóras, fuért, and súyo could be acceptable rhymes.33 A series of verses sharing the same rhyme constitutes a tirada or copla (strophe, laisse), which can be comprised of any given number of lines. The poet was perfectly aware of that feature, since, at the end of the second section of the poem, he states that “Las coplas deste cantar aquís van acabando” (v. 2276). Tiradas tend to display a unity of sense and generally can stand alone; however, there are “run-on strophes” in which one or two verses take up the theme or story line of the previous strophe. There are even cases in which a phrase is split between two consecutive tiradas, and occasionally there is a tirada with no discernable unifying theme. Generally, an episode spans several tiradas. Therefore, a change in rhyme pattern, which signals the start of a new strophe, is not a guarantee that the content of the poem is taking a new direction. The poet seems to start a new strophe when he considers some aspect of his narrative to be concluded. For example, the first tirada tells of the Cid’s departure from Vivar; the second, the trip from Vivar to Burgos. Up to this point, each strophe refers to a discrete unit of action. The stopover in Burgos, however, is a unit with two scenes, each with its own tirada and internal drama: the third strophe narrates the troubled reception of the Cid by the townsfolk, and the fourth tells how the citizens, despite their sympathy for his plight, dare not disobey the royal mandate forbidding them to shelter the hero. New strophes are also triggered by shifts in the action, such as the prelude to a battle, the engagement between enemies, and its aftermath. A strophe can also introduce a new character or an extended monologue. Other times, the poet starts a new tirada to set off part of the narrative. This has the effect of suspending the linear progress of events, a practice that can disorient the modern reader. Such is the case with the so-called series gemelas (twin strophes), in which a tirada recapitulates in a more detailed way or from another perspective what was reported in the previous one. There are also parallel strophes, which recount events that occur at the same time in successive tiradas.34 For 33 34 Strange as it may seem to the modern speaker of Spanish, this is the simplest way to explain the actual distribution of ending vowels of verses in the Poema de mio Cid (see Montaner “Revisión textual del Cantar de mio Cid”, pp. 162-77, and his chapter in this volume). There are two more theories about this point: the traditional one (endorsed in their chapters by Bayo and Bailey) is that all ending vowels (except for –e and –i) are pertinent for the rhyme; a more recent proposal (adopted by Rodríguez Molina in his chapter) is that the unstressed final vowel always lacks distinctive capacity. This seems to be irrefutable evidence of the functionality of the strophes or laisses, denied by some scholars, as well as proof of the French origin of this technique; cf. Introduction 21 example, near the end of the poem the three judicial duels take place simultaneously, but the poet reports them one at a time and gives each its own tirada. The strophes are clustered into three cantares (songs), even though the surviving manuscript does not formally indicate these divisions. In the 19th century, some critics posited two cantares, with a transition after vv. 2776–77: “¡Las coplas d’este cantar, aquís’ van acabando, / el Criador vos vala con todos los sos santos!”. Menéndez Pidal argued for a division into three cantares, with the second beginning with v. 1085: “Aquís’ compieça la gesta de mio Cid el de Bivar”. He called the three parts “Cantar del Destierro” (vv. 1- 1084), “Cantar de las Bodas” (vv. 1085-2277), and “Cantar de la Afrenta de Corpes” (vv. 2278-3730). Although the two-part division better accommodates the thematic structure of the poem, the three-part division breaks the narrative into units of similar length roughly matching what a singer could deliver in a single performance of about three hours. Thus, even though the division marked by v. 1085 is much less important than the one at v. 2777, segmentation into three parts seems to be the best option and is now accepted by most scholars. 10 Formulas Another distinctive feature of the Poema de mio Cid is its reliance on formulaic diction.35 This rhetorical device systematically reworks familiar epic phrases to place them in different metrical contexts. Many formulas in the Poema de mio Cid are related to 12th-century French epic poems. They could not have come from earlier Spanish poems since those formulas show innovations in content and themes belonging to their own historical period. An obvious example is the description of battles, which is highly stylized and reflects ways of handling the lance that emerged during the late 11th and early 12th century. By the middle of the 12th century, these descriptions had already settled into established formulas, which are incompatible with poems supposedly composed in the 10th or 11th century.36 This does not mean that all these formulas were adopted by the Cid’s poet, since it is quite certain that Castilian epic poems 35 36 Rychner, La chanson de geste, pp. 89-93 (for laisses parallèles) and 93-107 (for laisses similaires). See De Chasca, El arte juglaresco; Chaplin, “Oral-formulaic style”; Miletich, “The quest for the ‘formula’”; Waltman, “Formulaic expression”; and especially Justel, El sistema formular. Justel, “La carga de choque”. See also Herslund, “Le Cantar de Mio Cid et la chanson de geste”; Smith, The Making, pp. 155-66; Hook, “The Poema de Mio Cid and the Old French epic”; Adams, “All the Cid men”; and Justel, Técnica y estética. 22 zaderenko And Montaner based on French materials were already circulating.37 Nevertheless, it is proof that the Poema de mio Cid was in the poetical avant-garde of its time. A formula is a phrase expressing a single idea that is employed two or more times in a poetic text under similar metric conditions. It is used to fill out a hemistich and, if it is placed in the second half of the line, it provides the rhyme, for example, in v. 2901, “¿Ó eres, Muño Gustioz, mio vassallo de pro?”, and in v. 3193, “Martín Antolínez, mio vassallo de pro”. A “variant formula” occurs when a phrase is repeated but with a slight modulation, like in v. 402, “a la Figueruela mio Cid iva posar”, and in v. 415, “a la sierra de Miedes ellos ivan posar”. A third mode of formulaic composition consists of phrases whose internal elements are rearranged. This option is the most versatile as seen in v. 500, “que empleye la lança e al espada meta mano”, v. 2387, “el astil á quebrado e metió mano al espada”, and v. 3648, “Martín Antolínez mano metió al espada”. Three kinds of formulas can be distinguished according to their rhetorical function. The first, delimiting formulas, mark a turning point in the action or a shift in the mode of presentation. Sometimes they include a direct address to the audience. Delimiting formulas can be divided into elocution formulas, which function as a formal prelude to a speech: “Essora dixo Minaya: ‘De buena voluntad’” (v. 1282), “Essora dixo el rey: ‘Plazme de coraçón’” (v. 1355); transitional formulas, which mark changes in theme or focus: “Direvos de los cavalleros que llevaron el mensaje” (v. 1453), “Los dos han arrancado, dirévos de Muño Gustioz” (v. 3671); and presentation formulas, which call the listeners’ attention: “Afevos doña Ximena, con sus fijas dó va llegando” (v. 262), “Afevos los dozientos e tres en el algara” (v. 476). The second kind, descriptive formulas, characterize some element introduced in the narrative. They generally associate an adjective and a noun, as in “buen cavallo” and “buenos cavallos”, with more elaborate variations such as “cavallos gruessos e corredores”. They also may consist of a qualifying phrase like “e Peña Cadiella, que es una peña fuert” (v. 1330) and “A siniestro dexan Atienza, una peña muy fuert” (v. 2691). Instead of being qualitative, they can be quantitative, like “grandes son las ganancias” (v. 548) or “gentes son / trae sobejanas” (vv. 657, 988). A device related to descriptive formulas is the epic epithet, which consists of fixed expressions – although they can be modified according to the needs of the line – used to designate or characterize a figure in the narrative, always in a positive way. The usual arrangement is a noun in apposition with a character’s name or a name with a modifying phrase or adjective that singles out the character from everyone else. The hero receives the greatest variety of epithets, 37 See Rico, “Çorraquín Sancho, Roldán y Oliveros”. Introduction 23 such as “el Campeador contado” and “la barba vellida”. Some epithets are astrological, alluding to propitious influences at the moment of the Cid’s birth or when he was dubbed a knight: “el que en buen ora nasco” and “el que en buen ora cinxo espada”. Almost all the characters within the Cid’s inner circle receive epithets, including Jimena, “muger ondrada”, and Álvar Fáñez, “el bueno de Minaya” and “mio diestro braço”. The king is “el buen rey don Alfonso” or “rey ondrado”. The third kind, narrative formulas, encompass a remarkable diversity of expressive needs, such as spatiotemporal references, the expression of emotions, some gestures, allusions to divinity, displacements, the mere mention of a character, or combat in particular. They can refer to the passage of time: “otro día mañana”, “cuando saliesse el sol”; physical gestures: “la cara se santiguó”, “prisos’ a la barba”, “las manos le besó”; expressions of emotion: “grandes son los gozos”, “grandes son los pesares”, “alegre era”, “pesó a”; or physical movements: “aguijan a espolón”, “luego cavalgava”. The open-field combat is often narrated in a flowing succession of formulas. Battles are divided into eight distinct phases:38 first, general references: “a menos de batalla”, “pora huebos de lidiar”; second, references to arming and outfitting: “metedos en las armas”, “de todas guarnizones”; third, battle cries: “¡feridlos, cavalleros!”, “¡yo só Ruy Díaz!”; fourth, descriptions of the charge: “embraçan los escudos delant los coraçones”, “abaxan las lanzas a bueltas de los pendones”; fifth, descriptions of the clash: “fiérense en los escudos”, “da(va)nle grandes colpes”; sixth, the pursuit of enemies: “de los que alcançava”, “duró el segudar”; seventh, the battle’s outcome: “arrancólos del campo”, “oviéronlos de arrancar”; and eighth, the aftermath of the violence: “por el cobdo ayuso la sangre destellando”. There are also combined narrative-descriptive formulas. Each of these formulas is closer to one class than the other, depending on the component that predominates in it, but this does not prevent the formula from having a hybrid nature. Thus, if the narrative aspects come from the verb, which has a lexical meaning, the descriptive component results from an adjective, as in the following examples: “danle grandes colpes” (vv. 713 and 2391), “grandes tuertos me tiene” (vv. 961 and 3134) or “irán buenos mandados” (vv. 783 and 2445). Some elocution formulas can be hybrid too, since they include actions which only come before direct speech, as “alçó la (su) mano (diestra)” or several formulas with the verb sonrisar(se) (to smile). 38 Justel, “La carga de choque” and Técnica y estética, § 1.1, offers a somewhat different division; he describes the mêlée, or combat proper, while we refer to the battle as a whole. 24 11 zaderenko And Montaner Narrative Techniques39 Despite lacking the first folio, it is quite certain that the Poema de mio Cid started in medias res, that is to say, in the middle of the plot when the banishment decree is delivered to the Cid and his entourage. Nevertheless, for most of the poem the story is narrated in chronological order. But there are times, as in the case with twin and parallel tiradas, when the poem departs from that mold. Another situation in which the linear flow of the story is broken occurs when simultaneous events are narrated, for example, when the story follows a character other than the hero: the Cid sending envoys with gifts to Alfonso, or the king and Rodrigo traveling to Toledo for their reconciliation. In some cases, what is happening to the hero is skipped over while the other events transpire; most of the time, however, both branches of the tale are told in interweaving and alternating scenes with clear markers of transitions from one plotline to the other. Less familiar to modern readers is another technique that is characteristic of epic poems: double narration, that is, the repetition of the same events in successive passages. It takes two forms: in the first, the verses that provide the transition echo the final verses of the strophe that has just concluded; the second has a prospective form in which the poet tells what happens up to a certain point and then retells the same events in greater detail or from a different point of view. Twin laisses are employed for this purpose, and the change of strophe alerts the listener to the shift in narrative flow. It is somewhat more difficult to identify double narration when it occurs in longer passages and even more so when it crosses strophic boundaries. This situation arises when the Cid offers the count of Barcelona his freedom: it happens only once but is narrated twice, each time with different details and nuances.40 Another aspect of the poem that could be confusing for modern readers is the shift between verbal tenses.41 One determining factor is the rhyme scheme, since the verb endings often provide the vowels for the rhyme, although these temporal leaps do not occur only in rhyming verbs. The verb tense also differentiates actions completed from others in progress: an episode may be reported mostly in the imperfecto (imperfect past tense), with a shift to the pretérito (past tense) signaling the completion of the action. Furthermore, verbs whose 39 40 41 For more details, see Funes’ and Luongo’s chapters in this volume. See Gornall, “How Many Times Was the Count of Barcelona Offered His Freedom?” and “Double Narration in the Poema de Mio Cid”. See Gilman, Tiempo y formas temporales en el “Poema del Cid”. Introduction 25 inherent meaning is one of uncompleted action or state of being tend to be in the present; those that construe completed events and actions gravitate toward the pretérito – unless the action is negative, which tends to generate the historical present tense. Scholars have also detected a correlation between the subject and the verb tense: if the subject is singular, the verb tends to be in the preterit; if the subject is plural, the verb tends to be in the present, for example, “espidiós de todos los que sos amigos son” (v. 3531). Finally, certain events are highlighted by being drawn into the immediate temporal plane of the listener through the use of the historical present. When the Cid humbles himself before King Alfonso at their encounter at the Tagus, the hero’s specific actions are presented in the simple past tense: “los inojos e las manos en tierra los fincó, / las yerbas del campo a dientes las tomó” (vv. 202122), but the key moment of the scene is narrated in the present tense: “asi sabe dar omildanç a Alfonso so señor” (v. 2024). 12 The Narrator and His Characters42 The Poema de mio Cid has an omniscient narrator who can offer the listener or reader more information than the characters possess. Depending on the situation, this gap in knowledge can provide humor or dramatic tension, usually tending toward the latter. For example, when the Infantes depart from Valencia with their wives, the hero is unaware of their intentions yet the audience is fully informed about their plans. Humor prevails instead when the Cid barters with the moneylenders of Burgos over the chests filled with sand, or when the hero teases the distrustful count of Barcelona. In other cases, the irony is provided by the Cid himself, such as in the persecution of the Moroccan King Bucar. The narrator does not assume a neutral position; on the contrary, he is always on the hero’s side. He has no qualms about dismissing the count of Barcelona as a follón (blowhard) or labeling the Infantes as malos (evil) after they devise the plan for avenging themselves on the Cid’s daughters. He also rejoices with the Christians when they finally have a bishop, “¡Dios, qué alegre era todo cristianismo, / que en tierras de Valencia señor avié obispo!” (vv. 1305-06). Despite being omniscient, the narrator never delves into the minds of his characters to expose in detail their thoughts and motivations. And while he makes no pretense of neutrality, he does not indulge in moral stereotyping. In 42 For a detailed analysis, see Luongo’s chapter in this volume. 26 zaderenko And Montaner the poem, personality is reliably displayed through actions and words. This tends to increase the incidence of direct address, thus making the Poema de mio Cid one of the texts with the highest ratio of speech to narrative in all of medieval literature. The poet allows his characters to speak in their own words, and he also may paraphrase what they said or use a sort of free indirect discourse that is similar to reported speech but without the usual syntactic subordination. The first option is more common: the narrator routinely yields the floor to the characters by means of rhetorical formulas or by using a verb that functions in the same way. For example, sonreir (to smile) only occurs as a prelude to a direct address. Only when a character replies can all transitional markers be omitted: mio Cid el Campeador al alcáçar entrava, recibiólo doña Ximena e sus fijas amas: “¡Venides, Campeador, en buena ora cinxiestes espada, muchos días vos veamos con los ojos de las caras!” “¡Grado al Criador, vengo, mugier ondrada!” (2183-87) Indirect discourse is introduced by a speech verb or its equivalent, as in “Mandó mio Cid a los que ha en su casa / que guardassen el alcáçar e las otras torres altas” (vv. 1570-71), or “Díxoles fuertemientre que andidiessen de día e de noch, / aduxiessen a sus fijas a Valencia la mayor” (vv. 2839-40). When indirect discourse records a character’s thoughts, it is introduced by verbs that mean “to think” or “to ponder”, as in “ya veyé mio Cid que Dios le iva valiendo” (v. 1096) or “Todos se cuedan que ferido es de muert” (v. 3688). These occasional references hardly counteract the narrator’s predominant tendency to not peek into his characters’ minds. In free indirect discourse the verbs that introduce speech are replaced by transition markers. This technique is generally used in situations that are somewhat impersonal, such as the reception of messages or the content of a document: “a aquel rey de Sevilla el mandado llegava / que presa es Valencia, que no ge la enparan” (vv. 1222-23), “llegaron las nuevas al conde de Barcilona / que mio Cid Ruy Díaz quel’ corrié la tierra toda” (vv. 957-58), or “el Poyo de mio Cid asíl’ dirán por carta” (v. 902). As for individualized expression, the only significant difference between the characters and the narrator is that the former are not allowed the same latitude when using verb tenses. This difference can be explained by the narrator’s need for a more complex repertoire of expressive options than the characters in his story, who only speak of their immediate circumstances. An exception to Introduction 27 this similarity of the characters’ speech is that the oath “¡Sant Esidro!” is reserved for King Alfonso, a reference to his historical devotion to the saint. The characters are distinguished by what they say, not how they say it. Their attitudes, intentions, and actions differentiate them. There are good characters and bad characters, which is determined by whether or not they support the hero (although from an internal moral value, the right perspective would be the inverse). Still, their virtues and vices are not assigned mechanically; everyone gets his own shading. For example, the count of Barcelona, the Infantes of Carrión, and García Ordóñez share a disdain for the Cid, but each has his quirks. The count is a braggart but can handle himself in battle; the Infantes are grasping, deceitful, and cowardly; and García Ordóñez tries to defame the hero but ends up shaming himself. Characters are not static either. The Cid’s attitude towards his sons-in-law changes from distrust to attachment to total rejection. The clearest case showing that the characters in the Poema de mio Cid are allowed to evolve is that of King Alfonso: he gradually abandons his wrath and comes to feel profound affection for the Cid, whom he finally admires so much that he declares before his court, “¡Maguer que [a] algunos pesa, mejor sodes que nós!” (v. 3116). The characterizations are fairly nuanced, especially that of the Cid, who is capable of showing grief and joy with his family, vacillation and resolve in his military campaigns, camaraderie with his men, stateliness at court, and even – an unexpected quality in an epic hero – an unabashed sense of humor. The absence of psychological description is matched by the lack of details describing the characters’ physical appearance. The Cid’s daughters receive the greatest number of descriptive phrases, but even those are scant. When they stand with their mother on the battlements in Valencia and gaze out on the Cid’s vast holdings, the poet tells how their “ojos vellidos catan a todas partes” (v. 1612), and the Cid himself asserts that his daughters are “tan blancas commo el sol” (v. 2333). A physical trait is associated with the Cid from the beginning of the poem: a flowing beard that grows to an impressive length as a result of his self-imposed vow not to cut it until he recovers the king’s favor. This aspect of his appearance is so significant that it regularly appears in epic epithets, such as “el de la luenga barba”, “el de la barba grant”, “barba tan conplida”, and “la barba vellida”. In contrast, García Ordóñez’s beard is sparse and disfigured since the Cid ripped a piece out of it. As for the Infantes of Carrión, Pero Vermúez says to one of them, “e eres fermoso, mas mal varragán” (v. 3327). 28 13 zaderenko And Montaner Other Stylistic Features The dearth of descriptions in the Poema de mio Cid suggests that the ones included have a purpose and are not mere ornamental touches. The same is true for objects: whenever something is mentioned, the intention is to make it and its owner stand out, for example, the Cid’s spotless tunic, shirt, and hood. Usually, the poet limits himself to mentioning the quality of the object without going into specific details. He often speaks of “buenos cavallos”, for example. Occasionally, however, more particulars are provided: “Saca las espadas e relumbra toda la cort, / las maçanas e los arriazes todos d’oro son” (vv. 3177-78). In Toledo, the Cid appears in raiment of the finest sort, whose rich materials and perfect fit are admired by those present: “en él abrién que ver cuantos que ý son” (v. 3100). The use of parallel features and calculated contrasts is one of the stylistic characteristics of the poem.43 When the Cid meets the king on the banks of the Tagus River, he prostrates himself and kisses Alfonso’s feet, a conventional gesture of fealty. The king invites the Cid to rise and kiss his hands instead, an act sufficient to reestablish their bond. The Cid does rise, but he also kisses Alfonso on the mouth, a sign of friendship. Those three instances recapitulate the Cid’s career as recounted in the poem: abasement, recovery, and finally, the elevation that makes him almost equal to his lord. Similar structural principles inform the beginning of the poem: the Cid leaves the doors of his house in Vivar open, a mute expression of the abandoned home; the image is repeated with a darker tone when he finds the doors in Burgos closed to him; finally, the symbolism is inverted when the doors of the Monastery of Cardeña swing open in welcome. This play of repetitions and contrasts throughout the poem contributes to a sense of cohesion and craftsmanship that is one of the author’s greatest artistic achievements. Another important aspect of the poem is the majesty of its style. According to medieval tenets of composition, epic poetry deals with elevated themes in a dignified and sober style. It has been argued that the poem’s lofty tone was achieved, in part, through its archaic language, as it was characterized by Menéndez Pidal. Scholars are no longer sure about this, since we have too few 12th-century vernacular texts to get an idea of what might have felt archaic to an audience of that time. Traits that do help produce an elevated style include the use of learned words and expressions adapted from church Latin and the language of the law, among them criminal (applied specifically to criminal calumny), monumento (tomb), tus (incense), virtos (army), and vocación 43 For more details, see Funes’ chapter in this volume. Introduction 29 (dedication of a church). There is also an extensive repertoire of Spanish military terms:44 loriga (coat of mail), almófar (hood of mail), belmez (padded tunic worn under the coat of mail), arrobda (patrol), art (a stratagem used in battle), az (line or formation of soldiers), compaña (war band, troops), fierro (iron point of a lance), huesa (horseman’s sturdy boot), etc. This sort of vocabulary is natural in a poem about military exploits, but the many legal terms used with precision is surprising. The presence of such lexicon is not limited to the judicial confrontation at Alfonso’s royal court; rather, it is found throughout the entire poem. Apart from the Latinate terminology, one could point to the Spanish alcalde (with the meaning “judge”, rather than the modern “mayor”), entención (an allegation in legal proceedings), juvizio (judgment or sentence), manfestar (juridical confirmation of an alleged crime), rencura (civil or criminal suit), and riepto (formal accusation). There are also pairs of synonyms one would expect to find in a legal instrument where exact terminology is required, not in a poetic text. The pairings of roughly equivalent terms specify subtle differences in meaning that are not to be blurred: “a rey e a señor” (to king and liege lord), “pensó e comidió” (he pondered and weighed), “a ondra e a bendición” (honorable and sanctioned, referring to a legally contracted matrimony). Other pairs indicate a totality by listing the constituents: “grandes e chicos” (of high and low status, that is, all citizens or inhabitants of every class and standing), “moros e cristianos” (Moors and Christians, that is, all people regardless of their religion), “nin mugier nin varón” (neither woman nor man), “el oro e la plata” (gold and silver), “en yermo o en poblado” (in a desert or a town, that is, in the open countryside or in a district under a code of law), “de noch e de día” (night or day, that is, at any time). Reduplicative phrasing can also be found in more complex structures that fill out a verse and use the caesura as their hinge, for example, “grandes averes priso e mucho sobejanos” (v. 110), “a priessa vos guarnid e metedos en las armas” (v. 986).45 Also characteristic of the poem is the use of “physical phrases”, which emphasize an action by specifying the part of the body that performs it: “plorando de los ojos, tanto avién el dolor” (v. 18), “de la su boca compeçó de fablar” (v. 1456). Although it is possible that these expressions were a form of stage direction indicating the movements and gestures performed during the recitation of the poem, it is just as likely that their vividness made the gestures unnecessary. The intonation to be used during the recitation is more obvi- 44 45 Several of them derive from Arabic, as shown by Corriente in his chapter in this volume. See Montaner, ed., Cantar de mio Cid, pp. 454-59. 30 zaderenko And Montaner ous. Exclamations, questions, and a declarative voice are all employed by the narrator as well as the characters. 14 Orality and Literacy in Composition, Performance, and Transmission These features potentially related to performance lead us to raise another question: the relation between orality and literacy in the making and diffusion of the Poema de mio Cid. As we have previously seen, some authors have advocated for an improvised oral composition, mainly based on the high proportion of formulas. Although this is an undeniable feature of the Poema de mio Cid’s style, it is by no means proof that it was an oral production, less still an impromptu composition. On the one hand, there are many examples of formulaic diction in medieval legal and historiographical Latin texts.46 On the other, the relative frequency of formulas points to the influence of a traditional style rather than to oral composition.47 Finally, the masterful use of formulas in order to create contrasts and other esthetic effects based on echoed expressions hardly seems compatible with the mechanical device described by oralist approaches.48 A more promising approach has been developed by Matthew Bailey.49 As he states, “juglares are identified in the thirteenth-century Alfonsine Estoria de España as saying or speaking their narratives, but there is not documental evidence to determine how their narratives were composed or recorded”.50 Thus, in order to understand their mode of composition to some extent, oral vernacular composition can be equated to oral dictation by a learned author to a scribe. As a consequence, the expression fixed on parchment retains the flavor of the original dictated work, which is that of the narrative “spontaneous speech”, described by Wallace Chafe. The main feature of such “spontaneous speech” is the production of relatively brief spurts, put forward as intonation units, which are likely to be single clauses with a simple syntax and interconnected by parataxis. When the 46 47 48 49 50 See Dutton, “The Popularization of Legal Formulae in Medieval Spanish Literature”, and Justel, “Estilo reiterativo, fórmulas historiográficas y fórmulas épicas”. Miletich, “Repetition and Aesthetic Function in the Poema de mio Cid and South-Slavic Oral and Literary Epic”. See Justel, Técnica y estética and El sistema formular. See Bailey, The Poetics of Speech as well as his chapter in this volume. Bailey, The Poetics of Speech, p. 126. Introduction 31 “spontaneous speech” is rendered by the means of highly stylized and rhythmically sophisticated verses (like Homeric ones), it becomes “special speech”. According to Bailey, medieval Spanish epic, which, in his opinion, essentially lacks metrical properties, is closer to spontaneous speech than to special speech. Leaving aside the inaccurate characterization of the Poema de mio Cid’s metrics (see above), it must be noted that, as Bailey states, in medieval Europe even texts composed in writing could involve some degree of oral dictation. On the other hand, he proposes that a clerical work such as the Poema de Fernán González, which is epic in tone but belongs to another genre (the learned narrative poetry in monorhymed quatrains), also shows “indicators of orality”.51 That means that the appearance of those traits is not a clear sign for ascribing a work to the realm of the purely oral or unlearned composition. Rather, they show that the medieval literary milieu was dominated by voice rather than script. As the performer’s colophon at the end of the only extant medieval manuscript of the Poema de mio Cid makes clear, this codex was sometimes used to read the poem aloud. Finally, it seems rather dubious that an elaborate style with restrictions of rhythm, rhyme, and formulism could fit the conditions of a true spontaneous act of speech. Thus, these traits, when shown in special speech, are more probably related to the requirements of the poem’s oral diffusion rather than to proper oral composition. However, we do not know exactly how the juglares made their texts come alive. The aforementioned reading aloud seems to have been unusual. In most occasions, the delivery probably was from memory and sung as a kind of psalmody, whose music some scholars imagine – without much evidence – may have been a variation of Gregorian chant. The delivery was probably stiff and formalized, and the use of any instrument requiring two hands to play would have hobbled the performer’s dramatic style even more. Recitations were done in the street or town square at the request of passers-by or by commission of the town council, which contracted performers to enliven local festivals. It was also common for a juglar to stage his artistry at private events, such as weddings or baptisms. Considering the length of the Poema de mio Cid, it could not have been performed in its entirety in one session. As noted above, the division of the poem into three cantares of similar length matches what a minstrel could sing in a single performance of about three hours. On the other hand, it is probable that sometimes only select episodes, according to the taste of those gathered, were presented. No documentation exists about this, although the 51 Bailey, The Poetics of Speech, pp. 76-104. 32 zaderenko And Montaner popularity of the old ballad “Helo, helo por do viene / el moro por la calzada” might allow one to guess that the pursuit of King Bucar was a favorite. Now, one thing is poetic composition (oral, written, or mixed) and another is the origin of the poem’s written tradition. The former concerns the author and his circumstances; the latter involves the person who wrote the poem down on parchment at a time when writing vernacular compositions was still infrequent.52 The sole codex of the Poema de mio Cid was based on a model handwritten in May 1207 by a certain Per Abbat. Based on historical circumstances, Roger Wright hypothesizes that the recording of the poem may be somehow connected to the production of vernacular documents by the royal Castilian chancery between 1206 and 1208. In any case, he shows that the writing in pure Romance (and not in the previous Latino-Romance form) is more probably linked to the taste of a modern, big city like Toledo,53 than to a conservative Benedictine Castilian monastery. Be that as it may, there is no strong evidence linking the production of the codex to any concrete place or particular context. Since the 1207 manuscript was a formal codex with a colophon, it must have been an apograph, a clean copy of a previous text, that could have been an orally dictated copy or a working draft. It is nevertheless impossible to determine its true nature. The copy made by Per Abbat works as the archetype of the subsequent tradition, which inherited its scribal errors. At least two copies derive from this archetype: the extant codex, copied c.1320-30, as well as the lost manuscript used in Alfonso X’s historiographical workshop to elaborate a prose version that was included in the Estoria de España and in other medieval chronicles. The 14th-century manuscript served, in turn, as a model for a 16thcentury copy made by the antiquarian and genealogist Juan Ruiz de Ulibarri, as well as for several hitherto unknown 18th-century manuscripts.54 52 53 54 On this topic, see Wright’s chapter in this volume. Nevertheless, in his chapter in this volume Rodríguez Molina excludes explicitly Toledo as the place of the Poema de mio Cid’s redaction based on linguistic grounds. For the matters related to the manuscript transmission of the Poema de mio Cid, see Montaner’s chapter in this volume. Introduction 15 33 The Aftermath of the Poema de mio Cid and the Literary Cid55 It is difficult to know what sort of success the Poema de mio Cid had soon after it was composed, but we have some evidence. There are several documentary forgeries dated to the first quarter of the 13th century that show traces of the poem.56 One of the masters of the mester de clerecía (the cleric’s craft), Gonzalo de Berceo, shows in his poems clear echoes of epic compositions, especially the Poema de mio Cid.57 Another indication of its lasting appeal is the extant manuscript, which was produced more than a century after its model and used in live performances for a 14th-century audience. The poem’s importance is also shown by its persistent influence on Castilian epic poetry as the starting point of the Cid’s Cycle at least as we know it.58 This epic cycle consists of the following poems (in their internal chronological order): Mocedades de Rodrigo, which deals with the Cid’s youth; Cantar del rey don Sancho, which is set during Rodrigo’s early manhood; the Poema de mio Cid, which treats the mature Cid; and the Epitafio épico del Cid, which tells of his posthumous fame. The hero’s charisma transformed his legend into one of the most important epic cycles of the Middle Ages and one of the great myths of universal literature. The cycle originated c.1200 when the Poema de mio Cid was composed. The now lost Cantar del rey don Sancho narrated the civil wars between King Fernando’s sons who fought to gain control of the entire kingdom. Since this cantar shows clear influence of the Poema de mio Cid, it was probably composed between c.1200 and 1223, and it is known thanks to Alfonso X’s Estoria de España.59 As it is frequently the case in European epics, the last of the poems 55 56 57 58 59 See Rodiek, La recepción internacional del Cid; Montaner, VIII Centenario; Galván, “Las nuevas del Cid”; and Boix, “Transmisión”. For the critical and social canonization of the Poema de mio Cid, see Galvan’s chapter in this volume. See Smith, Estudios cidianos, pp. 22-34; Montaner, “Ficción y falsificación en el cartulario cidiano”, pp. 335-38, and “El apócrifo del abad Lecenio y el auge de la materia cidiana”. Dutton, “Gonzalo de Berceo and the cantares de gesta”; Montaner, “Un posible eco del Cantar de mio Cid en Gonzalo de Berceo”. As we have already seen, there was perhaps a poem on the Castilian hero before the Poema de mio Cid (according to the standard interpretation of the Prefatio de Almaria). It is also quite certain that there was a poem about the siege of Zamora (as witnessed by the Chronica Naiarensis) that was, if not composed before, at least contemporary to the Poema de mio Cid. The beginning of the Cantar del rey don Sancho, with the dramatic division of the kingdoms of Fernando I of Castile and Leon between his three sons, is narrated quite differently in the Versión crítica (1282) of the Estoria de España. Here, the source is identified as 34 zaderenko And Montaner to be composed is devoted to the youthful exploits of its hero. A lost first version of Las Mocedades de Rodrigo is known through the Crónica de Castilla, but there is also a later version which likely dates from 1350 to 1360. Finally, the Epitafio épico del Cid dates from around 1400 and was engraved next to the Cid’s tomb at the monastery of Cardeña. The relevance of the Cid as a Castilian hero obliged the historians working under the patronage of Alfonso X to use the epic poems, together with Latin and Arabic chronicles, in order to build a complete biography of Rodrigo Díaz. The Estoria de España commissioned by Alfonso X, the earliest version of which was drafted between 1270 and 1274, already included prose versions of the Poema de mio Cid and the Cantar del rey don Sancho. A rewriting of that chronicle, the Crónica de Castilla, composed between 1295 and 1312, added Mocedades de Rodrigo as the beginning of Cid’s biography. Finally, the Epitafio épico del Cid was included among the appendices that Juan de Velorado, abbot of Cardeña, added to the first edition of the Crónica particular del Cid (1512).60 Another channel of transmission for subjects of vernacular epics were the romances (traditional Spanish ballads). These narrative songs were composed in eight-syllable lines with assonantal rhyme in every other verse. Although documented from the beginning of the 15th century, they are likely to have emerged in the late 14th century. Some of these ballads include episodes derived from, or at least inspired by, epic cantares. The ballads related to the Cid were mostly inspired by episodes of Mocedades de Rodrigo and the Cantar del rey don Sancho. Only the aforementioned ballad Romance del rey moro que perdió Valencia (“Helo, helo por do viene / el moro por la calzada”) is clearly, but freely, based on an incident narrated in the Poema de mio Cid. After the Middle Ages, chronicles and ballads maintained the memory of the Cid alive until the first publication of the poem in 1779 brought renewed attention to it. Universally considered the foremost work in the Spanish literary canon, the Poema de mio Cid continues to draw the interest of both specialists and an educated public. It has been published in many modern editions and is the subject of an imposing body of scholarship; it also has inspired artists and writers to 60 a Cantar del rey don Fernando. Since the title does not refer to a song about the siege of Zamora, the core incident of the Cantar del rey don Sancho, it is probable that the Versión critica is based on a shorter poem that only referred to the division of the kingdoms of Fernando I. Even in this text, the Cid has a prominent role as executor of the monarch’s last will. On the chronicle versions of the Cid’s history and legend, see Bautista’s and Gómez Redondo’s chapters in this volume. Introduction 35 produce their own reimagining of the story in works of literature, paintings, sculptures, motion pictures, comic books, rock songs, and videogames. 16 Afterword If the Poema de mio Cid so often gives the anachronistic impression of a realistic text, it is not because of its arguable historicism, or because of a supposed stylistic simplicity or plainness allegedly linked to the popular. On the contrary, that effect is due to the technical mastery of a poet who knew how to intertwine different materials and form an inextricable and coherent whole with multiple facets of his character: Rodrigo Diaz’s human adventures, his heroic values, and the ideal of personal progress thanks to the genuine effort proper of “el que Valencía gañó” (v. 3117). In short, the Poema de mio Cid is a skillful text, although it may not give that impression at first glance. It looks sincere, but it is tricky. It pretends to be linear, but it is complex. It does not pretend to convince, but it persuades. The acquiescence of the medieval audience was the product of the poet’s ability to show as true what could not have happened, and to relegate to oblivion part of what really happened. The same holds true for the modern-day reader who makes the effort to overcome some linguistic and cultural barriers. For this kind of reader, medieval Iberian literature and, in particular, the Poema de mio Cid, is an open door to an aesthetic that was born of the dialectic between identity and otherness. Works Cited61 Adams, Kenneth, “All the Cid Men, All the Moors all the More, / Yet a Fin de Cuentas, Old French Knows the Score”, in Historicist Essays on Hispano Medieval Narrative in Memory of Roger M. 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Miletich, John S., “Repetition and Aesthetic Function in the Poema de mio Cid and SouthSlavic Oral and Literary Epic”, Bulletin of Hispanic Studies 58.3 (1981): 189-96. Montaner, Alberto, ed., Cantar de mio Cid (Biblioteca Clásica, 1), Barcelona: Crítica, 1993; rev. ed., Madrid: Real Academia Española, 2011 (corr. reprint, 2016). Montaner, Alberto, “Un posible eco del Cantar de mio Cid en Gonzalo de Berceo”, in José Manuel Lucía (ed.), Actas del VI Congreso Internacional de la Asociación Hispánica de Literatura Medieval (Alcalá de Henares, 12-16 de septiembre de 1995), 2 vols., Alcalá de Henares: Universidad de Alcalá, 1997, vol. II, pp. 1057-67. Montaner, Alberto, “Revisión textual del Cantar de mio Cid”, La Corónica 33.2 (Spring 2005), 137-93. Montaner, Alberto, “Ficción y falsificación en el cartulario cidiano”, Cahiers d’Études Hispaniques Médiévales 29 (2006), 327-58. Montaner, Alberto, VIII Centenario del “Cantar de mio Cid”: MCCVII-MMVII, Madrid: Signe; [Burgos]: Consorcio “Camino del Cid”, 2006. Montaner, Alberto, “El apócrifo del Abad Lecenio y el auge de la materia cidiana”, in José Manuel Fradejas, Déborah Dietrick, Demetrio Martín Sanz and María Jesús Díez Garretas (eds.), Actas del XIII Congreso Internacional de la Asociación Hispánica de Literatura Medieval (Valladolid, 15 a 19 de septiembre de 2009): in memoriam Alan Deyermond, 2 vols. Valladolid: Universidad de Valladolid; Ayuntamiento de Valladolid, 2010, vol. II, pp. 1407-26. Montaner, Alberto, “La Historia Roderici y el archivo cidiano: cuestiones filológicas, diplomáticas, jurídicas e historiográficas”, e-Legal History Review 12 (June 2011), <http:// www.iustel.com/v2/revistas/detalle_revista.asp?id_noticia=410554&d=>. Montaner, Alberto, “Lo épico y lo historiográfico en el relato alfonsí del Cerco de Zamora”, Studia Zamorensia 2.15 (2016): 65-89. Montaner, Alberto and Ángel Escobar, eds., Carmen Campidoctoris = Poema latino del Campeador, Madrid: Sociedad Estatal España Nuevo Milenio, 2001. Panizo Santos, Ignacio, ed., Documentos del Cid en el Archivo Histórico Nacional, Madrid: Millennium Liber, 2007. Introduction 39 Peña Pérez, F. Javier, El Cid Campeador: historia, leyenda y mito, Burgos: Dossoles, 2000. Reilly, Bernard F., The Kingdom of Leon-Castilla under King Alfonso VI, 1065-1109, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988. Rico, Francisco, “Çorraquín Sancho, Roldán y Oliveros: un cantar paralelístico castellano del siglo XII”, in Homenaje a la memoria de Don Antonio Rodríguez Moñino: 1910-1970, Madrid: Castalia, 1975, pp. 537-64. Rodiek, Christoph, La recepción internacional del Cid. Argumento recurrente – contexto – género, Madrid: Gredos, 1995. Rychner, Jean, La chanson de geste: essai sur l’art épique des jongleurs, Geneva: Droz; Lille: Giard, 1955 (reprint 1999). Sánchez-Prieto Borja, Pedro, “¿Rimas anómalas en el Auto de los Reyes Magos?”, Revista de Literatura Medieval 16/1 (2003), 149-219. Smith, Colin C., Estudios cidianos, Madrid: Cupsa, 1977. Smith, Colin C., The Making of the Poema de mio Cid, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983. Smith, Colin C., “Towards a Reconciliation of Ideas about Medieval Spanish Epic”, Modern Languages Review 89 (1994), 622-34. Waltman, Franklin M., “Formulaic Expression and Unity of Authorship in the Poema de mio Cid”, Hispania 56 (1973), 569-78. Zaderenko, Irene, “¿El autor del Poema de mio Cid conocía la ‘Carta de arras’?”, La Corónica 22 (1993), 66-71. Zaderenko, Irene, El monasterio de Cardeña y el inicio de la épica cidiana, Alcalá de Henares: Universidad de Alcalá, 2013. 40 zaderenko And Montaner Figure 0.1 First folio of the extant manuscript of the Poema de mio Cid (Madrid,ms. Vitr/7/17, fol. 1r. With kind permission of the Biblioteca Nacional de España. 41 Introduction Part 1 The Codex and the Author ∵ 42 zaderenko And Montaner The Poema de mio Cid as Text 43 Chapter 1 The Poema de mio Cid as Text: Manuscript Transmission and Editorial Politics Alberto Montaner 1 Introduction Although there are several manuscript copies bearing the text of the Poema de mio Cid (PMC), all the modern ones derive from a codex unicus, which is the only extant manuscript copied in the Middle Ages. This situation poses several problems, both in terms of textual history and editing criteria. As for the textual history, the main question is to establish the relationship between this single codex, its model (copied at the beginning of the 13th century) and the missing copy used by chroniclers of King Alfonso X of Castile to write the Estoria de España around 1270. Regarding the edition of the text, the scholar does not have other manuscripts that could help establish the text (recensio). Thus, the possible correction of the manuscript’s errors (emendatio), if accepted in the editorial agenda, becomes even more difficult since the codex unicus may be far removed from the primitive text. The aim of this chapter is to provide a material analysis of the codex unicus of the PMC, in order to establish its date and distinguish the textual value of the different written interventions it has suffered over the centuries. Once this is done, it is possible to compare the only extant manuscript with the prose text transmitted by the different versions of the Estoria de España. This comparison has both historical and textual implications, since it allows us to outline connections between these two testimonies and their common model. In turn, these connections will allow us to establish the relevance of the use of the aforementioned set of chronicles when editing the poem. The next step is to envisage the problems the codex unicus poses to the editor. Those problems arise in two ways: the most basic is the poor readability of some pages of the manuscript and the interference of later interventions; the other is the presence of some scribal deviations from its model, and a fortiori from the primitive text (the so called “copyist’s mistakes” or “scribal errors”). Finally, the different criteria used by editors of the PMC will be treated within the framework of a reflection on the art of editing medieval epic poems. © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004363755_003 44 2 Montaner The Sole Codex of the Poema de mio Cid1 The codex unicus is currently housed in the vault of the Biblioteca Nacional de España, catalogue number Vitr/7/17.2 It is an in-quarto parchment volume, whose folios measure 198 × 150 mm, containing around 25 lines per page in a frame of 174 × 118 mm on average. It comprises 72 sheets, but the first and last one have been lost, as well as two others in the middle (between fols. 47-48 and 69-70). All the missing sheets had verses written on them, as shown by the lacunae in the text, except the last one, since the copy ends on fol. 74r. On fol. 74v there are several probationes pennae or texts written to test a newly cut pen. The script of the manuscript belongs to the variety of semi-formal Gothic known as cursiva formata or semitextualis,3 and it is written by a single hand, although there are later interventions by other hands. The original decoration is limited to some large initials, but three rude drawings were added in the outer margins by later hands.4 The volume has at present a late 16th-century binding in tanned sheepskin varnished in black with parchment flyleaves, on which there are several notes written in Humanist italic script. At the end of the text there are two colophons. The first one is a typical subscriptio written by the scribe and seems to give the date of the copy’s completion, but in fact, it refers to its model (as we will see later): Qͥ en eſcrıuıo eſte lıbro ∂el ∂ıos parayſo amen Per aƀƀaꞇ le eſcrıuıo enel mes de mayo En era de mıỻ 𝔷 .C.C xL.v. años. 1 This section is mainly based on the study of the manuscript included in my edition, Cantar de mio Cid (2016), pp. 463-524. See also Menéndez Pidal, Cantar de Mio Cid, vol. I, pp. 1-18, and Ruiz Asencio, “El códice del Poema de Mio Cid y su escritura”. 2 See the facsimile editions in the general bibliography of this volume. 3 A more detailed analysis will be provided below. For the nomenclature of Gothic script, see Derolez, The Paleography of Gothic Manuscript Books; De Hamel, Scribes and Illuminators, p. 38; Greetham, Textual Scholarship, pp. 196-98; Folsom, The Caligrapher’s Dictionary, p. 55 et passim. The Spanish classification can be found in Millares Carlo, Tratado de paleografía española, vol. I, pp. 207-20; Sánchez Mariana, “La ejecución de los códices en Castilla”, pp. 321-23; and Sánchez Prieto and Domínguez Aparicio, “Las escrituras góticas”. 4 They probably represent the heads of the Cid’s two daughters (fol. 31r), although the second head is a mere copy of the first one, and the Moorish leader Avengalvón (fol. 32r). See Montaner, “La fotografía hiperespectral”, pp. 272-75. 5 PMC 3731-33. As an exception to the general transcription rules for this volume, due to the scope of this chapter the quotations of the PMC are usually offered in paleographical transcription. The Poema de mio Cid as Text 45 The second one was added later and refers to the public recitation of the poem, and for that reason it is known (although inaccurately) as the jongleur’s colophon: E el romanz eſley∂o, ∂at nos del vino ſi non tenedes ∂iños echa∂ Ala vnos peños q̄ bjẽ vos lo ∂araran ſobreloς.6 The rough parchment is probably made from goatskin (carta caprina), as revealed by its yellowish color and characteristic “morocco” grain on the hair side.7 Sheets are gathered together in eleven in-quarto quires, mostly quaternios (four bifolia, eight leaves). The exact collation formula is: 18 (missing 1), 2-48, 56, 64, 78 (missing 1), 88, 96, 108 (missing 1), 116 (missing 1). The quires have no signatures nor quire-marks, but they had catchwords (in fact, about half of the line at the top of the following page). As usual, they were written horizontally in the lower margin of the last page of every quire, but they were so close to the fold that they have been nearly completely excised due to the successive trimming by the three binders of the codex. At present, only the eighth and ninth quires have the catchwords at the bottom of fols. 56v and 62v. The first reads “Qͣ n∂o ele lo oẏo peſol”, which reproduces most of line 2815: “Qͣ n∂o el lo oẏo peſol ∂e coꝛaçon”. The second, “q̄ ʀeçiba ∂erecho ∂e”, is the first half of line 3133: “Q̅ reçiba ∂erecho ∂e yfanꞇes de carrion”. At the end of the seventh quire, fol. 48v, the top of the ascender of a letter, which must be the h of muchos in the following line can still be seen: “Los moꝛos ſon muchos ∂erre∂oꝛ le çercauan” (v. 2390). The manuscript has no ancient foliation, unless it was completely trimmed in the binding process. Modern foliation was probably added during the 19th century, and it was penciled on the lower right corner of each folio’s recto. Pagination was also added in the first quire, and it reaches to page 15 (corresponding to fol. 7v), since it starts in the first flyleaf. 6 PMC 3733-35. This colophon starts at the end of the previous one and is written without paying attention to rhymes. The verse disposition, in regularized transcription, would be: “E el romanz es leýdo, / dat nos del vino; / si non tenedes dineros, / echad allá unos peños, / que bien [n]os lo darán sobr’ellos” (I amend the dittography of dararan and the personal pronoun in v. 3735, that makes no sense in the second-person plural). 7 This “grain” effect is due to the wide hair follicles in goat dermis (cf. Derolez, The Paleography of Gothic Manuscript Books, p. 31). My direct inspection of the manuscript with a surface exploring video-microscope revealed a remnant hair that looks like caprine. 46 Montaner Guidelines, scored with a lead point stylus,8 are present in every page, even those left blank originally at the end of the last quire. The first one is an exception, since it displays a hard-point ruling together with a row of 26 prickings, probably applied with a circinus, or dividers, in both the inner and the outer margins. Even in this case, the pattern of guidelines is the simplest one: a mere frame-ruling, reduced to the four lines which delimit the writing area, without tracing baselines for the text. This was a rather informal layout that makes it difficult to keep written lines straight, parallel, and evenly spaced.9 As a matter of fact, there are some pages in which text lines deviate from the orthogonal up to 5º. In other cases, the lines are bent in the center. For the same reason, the number of lines per page varies between 22 and 29. Despite these fluctuations, the average distribution is quite regular. The resulting written area is a bit bigger than the frame, varying between 174 × 121 mm and 163 × 112 mm. The one-column ruling pattern, with long text lines, is congruent with the inquarto format and was more common in manuscripts written in some variety of cursive script, while the most formal manuscripts in textualis formata often display a two-column format.10 As stated above, the full epic text was handwritten by a single scribe, whose script is a semi-formal variety of Gothic book script, a hybrida, that is a late mixture of textualis and cursiva features (see figure 1.1). The scribe made his copy in three steps. First, he wrote the text of the entire poem in black ink, which today has turned brown. During the copy process, he made some corrections along the way. For example, he wrote at the end of v. 46 “caſas”, which was the rhyme word of the previous line; he then suppressed it with a stroke and added the right word: “E∂emas los oıos delas caſas caras”. Once he finished the copy, the scribe made the usual revision (recognitio), writing with a more angular ductus and darker ink, and corrected several mistakes, such as the omission of two words at the beginning of v. 11: “⟨Ala⟩ Exı∂a ∂e bıuar ouıerõ la coꝛneȷa ∂ıeſtra”. Later, he carried out a second and less extensive recognitio, writing with a finer pen and paler ink, which now looks orange. Thus, in v. 2341 he added the possessive over the line: “Plogo a mẏo çi∂ 𝔷 aꞇo∂os ⟨ſos⟩ vaſſallos”. The first recognitio was done, in part, by rechecking the manuscript model, but 8 9 10 Lead ruling was the usual procedure for Gothic manuscripts until the late Middle Ages, leaving a soft grey score on the surface of the parchment page. Some modern scholars have erroneously thought they were scored with a graphite pencil. See Derolez, The Paleography of Gothic Manuscript Books, p. 35. Derolez, The Paleography of Gothic Manuscript Books, p. 37. Derolez, The Paleography of Gothic Manuscript Books, p. 39. The Poema de mio Cid as Text 47 not the second one, based on the inconsistencies introduced at that time (see examples below). The letter forms are, in many cases, those typical of the cursiva or nottula when used as book script (libraria, formata). For instance, there is a single compartment triangular a, traced in two strokes and found in two variants, one with a pointed top, and another in which the second stroke is higher than the bowl and ends in a small ear to the left; an angular c with a horizontal headstroke, which allows the letter to be linked to the next one; a round e, traced in three strokes, the third one being biased up to the right, and allowing the linking to the next letter, for example e͜a, e͜n or e͜r; a two-stroke p, in which one stroke forms the descender and the other one the lobe, which crosses the first one stretching slightly to the left; and a round r shaped as figure 2, which is an allograph or graphic variant used after o and y.11 The predilection for using a (small) capital R at the beginning of a word is also a characteristic feature of cursiva and hybrida, yet our scribe sometimes employs it in the middle of a word to represent the “strong” alveolar trip /r/, as in v. 244: “coʀal”, pronounced /koˈral/.12 Another allograph of r that was typical of the Iberian hybrida was the long r, whose stem extends below the baseline, just as the descenders of p or q. This variety only appears in a marginal addition by the scribe, which corrects the text of v. 73: “poꝛ lo q̄ vos he ſeɼvı∂o”. The use of this allograph is due to the more informal style of that kind of marginal nottulae. The high frequency of i longa with respect to i brevis, here most often undotted ⟨ı, ȷ⟩, is also typical of the Iberian kind of hybrida. “This does not mean that it was constantly used (short i is in fact the more common form), but there was a strong tendency to write j in specific positions: after or before m, n, u, after l, or at the opening of words”.13 In the extant codex of the PMC, the proportion is about 96 per cent ı vs. 4 per cent ȷ. The main use of ȷ is in the pair ⟨ıȷ⟩, for example in such common words as fıȷas ‘daughters’ or aguıȷo ‘spurred’. It sometimes appears in the groups eȷ, mȷ, nȷ and vȷ (the last one only in Roman numerals), but always in a minority of cases versus eı, mı, nı, and vı. The i longa is scarcely used in an initial position (6 per cent of its occurrences): ȷonas (v. 339), ȷeronımo (v. 1501), ȷu(u)ızıo (vv. 3239, 3259, and 3484), ȷuego (v. 3258), ȷugara (v. 3319), ȷuro (v. 3509), ȷunꞇaron (v. 3546), ȷunꞇa∂os (v. 3621), ȷunꞇo (v. 3625). Noteworthy is the spelling 11 12 13 This is an idiosyncratic use of the PMC scribe; usually, the round r is employed after any letter ending in a bow. The hammer-shaped and round allographs of r are displayed in v. 388: “Sı vıere∂es yentes venır poꝛ connuſco yꝛ”. The three allographs of r are used, for example, in v. 635: “Qͣ n∂o lo oyo el ʀey ꞇamın poꝛ cuer le peſo mal”. Derolez, The Paleography of Gothic Manuscript Books, p. 172. 48 Montaner “ſȷn”, which appears three times (vv. 523, 786, and 1968), instead of the most common form “ſın”. On the other hand, the two-stroke hammer-shaped r is an allograph introduced from textualis or littera textura in the realm of cursiva or nottula. The same applies to round loopless d ⟨∂⟩, but its proportions are longer than those of d in littera textualis or textura.14 Just as the loopless ascenders of b, h, and l, it is one of the distinctive features of the semihybrida and hybrida. Typical of the Iberian hybrida is the v allograph of u whose first arm is made of a long, bold, and fusiform diagonal stroke. Also characteristic of this script is the g with a circular bowl and long ear, whose tail has two allographs. One of them displays a typical cursiva loop, while the other “has an almost horizontal tailstroke, located rather high and stretching far to the left”15. By contrast, the f and the straight s ⟨ſ⟩ do not have the remarkably fat and pointed form typical of the cursiva nor do they extend below the baseline; on the other hand, they are far more rounded than the textualis variants, not being similar to the later semihybrida forms which are characteristic of Spanish letra de albalaes. In the c caudata, the cedilla is placed quite below the baseline, as is usual in the semihybrida, but it is connected to the c, like in the (semi)textualis. The round allograph of s (used in final position) does not have the beta or sigma shapes of s ⟨ϐ, σ / ϛ⟩ found in the letra de albalaes. There is a third allograph of s, which derives from the so-called trailing s used in textualis to occupy less space on the line, but it is written as superscript ⟨s⟩, for graphic economy as well as for correcting oversights. Both cases can be exemplified by the long v. 2479: “Q͂ lidiaran comıgo en campo myo⟨s⟩ yernos amos a ∂os”, where the first superscript s is an addition of the same scribe, while the other two were written at the same time as the full verse in order to avoid dividing it into two lines. Finally, there are two letters with a very idiosyncratic ductus. One is t, which, as usual in cursiva, is a two-stroke letter but with a very curved shaft and long headstroke, which makes it clearly distinguishable from c (unlike what happens in other variants of Iberian textualis or hybrida). Thus, the t has a very characteristic tau shape ⟨ꞇ⟩, except in the ligature ﬅ ⟨ſt⟩. The other idiosyncratic letter is z, which has two allographs, both descending below the baseline. One of them takes the common cursiva shape of figure 3 ⟨ꝫ⟩, but the other takes a shape similar to figure 5 ⟨Ƽ⟩, closest to the Spanish textualis z. 14 15 In Iberian hybrida, “[t]he letter d is mostly marked by a rather long, bold, and cub-shaped shaft traced on the diagonal” (Derolez, The Paleography of Gothic Manuscript Books, p. 172), typical of the so-called letra de albalaes, but in the PMC codex the top of the ascender is straight or slightly acute. Derolez, The Paleography of Gothic Manuscript Books, p. 172. The Poema de mio Cid as Text 49 Graphic economy is attained through fusions, ligatures, and abbreviations. The manuscript lacks proper fusions, like those of d͜d, b͜b or p͡p, and the typical Gothic fusion or overlapping of round strokes, such as b͜e, b͜o, d͜e, d͜o, p͡e, p͡o, are not frequent.16 It also lacks the ligatures typical of Iberian (semi)hybrida during the 14th and 15th centuries, like t͜o and o͜σ. The letters are very often linked (as already explained for e), but the ligatures are very few: ⟨ff, fi, ſſ, ﬅ⟩. There is also a ligature ct, but without the usual loop ⟨ct⟩, because the upper arm of the c is linked to the crossbar of the tau shaped t ⟨cˉτ⟩. On the other hand, the manuscript displays the typical set of Gothic abbreviations. The most common abbreviation marks are the horizontal stroke ⟨ˉ⟩ and the tilde ⟨˜⟩ above a letter, which very often indicate the omission of the nasal: “bıẽ” = bien, “cãpo” = canpo. Thus, “mañana” was actually the abbreviation of mannana, but both ñ and nn were already alternative spellings for the palatal nasal /ɲ/. All the contractions, which are quite common, are marked with one of those marks: “nr̃o” = nuestro, “oƀipo” = obispo, “ſcãs” = sanctas, “ſp̄ al” = spirital, ur̃o = uuestro, “xp̄ s” = christus. The tilde above a q also stands for que: “aq͂ l” = aquel, “q͂ rıẽ” = querien. In addition to the use as abbreviation mark, the horizontal stroke can cut across the ascenders of some double consonants: “aƀƀaꞇ”, “mıỻ”. Superscript letters a, i, and o are used as r-abbreviations: “conpͣ ” = conpra, “cͥa∂oꝛ” = criador, “oꞇ̊s” = otros. An odd use of superscript o is found in “eꞇ̊ꝛ” = entro (where only the nasal is missing). The superscript a or i above a q also acts as u-abbreviation: “qͣ nꞇo” = quanto, “aqͥ ” = aqui. Nevertheless, when applied to personal names, they mark full contractions: “gͦ zlez” = gonzalez (vv. 2286 and 2288), “mͣ ” = maria (v. 52), “mͬ ” = martin (v. 102), “ʀͦ ” = Rodrigo (v. 1028); also in “xͥan-” = christian(o, -a, -os, -as, -ismo). Special abbreviation signs are also used. The most common is the tironian et, which has the traditional form similar to figure 7 but rounded, thus resembling a big comma. The antisigma or tironian con takes the form of figure 9 and appears only twice: “ꝯpͣ ” = conpra (v. 62) and “ꝯde” = conde (v. 972)17 An important group is formed by r-abbreviations other than superscript vowels. The 16 17 Due to this and other features, like the use of hammer-shaped r instead of round r after b and p, Riaño Rodríguez and Gutiérrez Aja, eds., Cantar de Mío Cid, vol. II, pp. 365-72, and Riaño Rodríguez, “Paleografía del manuscrito”, have proposed that the extant codex was written in Pregothic script about 1235. In fact, the lack of fusions are proper of the variety of Gothic cursive known as nottula separata, while features like the use of br, pr, rather than bꝛ, pꝛ, are common in Iberian hybrida. For more details, see Ruiz Asencio, “El códice del Poema de Mio Cid”, p. 36; Bayo, “La datación del Cantar de Mio Cid”; Montaner, ed., Cantar de mio Cid, pp. 487-90. On fol. 18r, “9tado” = contado[s] (v. 826) is an addition of the first bookbinder (see below); the final –s was cut off during the second or third binding. 50 Montaner most usual one is a small horizontal stroke with a sloping hairline connecting it with the letter beneath ⟨7⟩, which is a cursive feature abbreviating er or sometimes re: “au̚ res” = aueres, “p̚ ſon” = preson, “v̚tu∂” = vertud; “p̚ ﬅar” = prestar. In a few cases it is the abbreviation of ier, as in “mug̚ ” = mugier and “ꞇ̚ra” = tierra, which, however, is often written “ꞇ̚rra”. When this horizontal stroke crosses an ascender, it loses its hairline: “cauaỻos” = caualleros, “ħe∂a∂es” = heredades. A horizontal line cutting across the descender of p stands for per: “eſꝑran∂o” = esperando, “ꝑ∂erie” = perderie. A letter p with a bow to the left of its descender is the abbreviation of pro: “ꝓuã∂o” = prouando, “ꝓueƼas” = prouezas. A very idiosyncratic abbreviation is that of ⟨ſꝫ⟩, which usually stands for latin sed, as abbreviation of ser in v. 116, instead of ⟨ſ̷ ⟩. Graphic emphasis is provided by a set of Gothic majuscules whose specific feature is a double vertical hairline inside the bowl or counter (horizontal in the case of P and H). They appear as opening letters in each line of the text, and are also used for highlighting León ‘lion’ in vv. 2282-98, and as Roman numerals: “Los oꞇ̊s .C.C.C. en oꝛo gelos pagauã” (v. 186), “Delos moꝛıſcos qͣ n∂o ſon lega∂os ffallarõ ·D·x cauallos” (v. 796). In addition to these majuscules, there are fourteen initials whose function is rather dubious because they do not correspond to any thematic division of the PMC nor to any physical division of the codex.18 Three are plain initials: two A’s (fols. 38r and 43r), and one L (fol. 9v). The other eleven are flourished initials: three A’s (fols. 12v, 37r, and 67r), one B (fol. 24r), two D’s (fols. 11r and 21r), two E’s (fols. 15r and 46v), one L (fol. 9v) and two P’s (fols. 6r and 56r). All of them follow the pattern of mixed capitals and uncials, usually known as Lombard capitals, and are monochrome. However, they display the typical zigzag or wavy white line used in litterae duplices or cum spatiis for separating the interlocked red and blue ink. The punctuation is restricted to a monochrome paragraph mark ⟨¶⟩, which is used only when a long verse is divided into two lines, as in vv. 89-90: Poꝛ ʀachel 𝔷 vı∂as uaya∂es me pͥ ua∂o ¶ꝛa∂o Q͂ n∂o en burgos me ve∂arõ cõpra 𝔷 el ʀeẏ me a ay The codex was bound three times. The first binding was coeval with the copy, which we know thanks to the binder’s handwriting. Since several line ends were trimmed in the binding process, he copied them again over the original line in a rotunda Gothic script with very dark ink and surrounded by an ellipse. 18 Only the A on fol. 38r matches up with the start of a quire, the eighth one. Another five initials are drawn in the first line of a folio recto (fols. 6r, 15r, 21r, 24r, and 38r). On this enigmatic issue, see Higashi, “Notas sobre la diuisio textus”. The Poema de mio Cid as Text 51 Most of these additions were trimmed in turn by later binders, probably the third one. Thus, a typical intervention by the first binder looks at present like this: Si nõ en ꞇo∂os ur̄os ∂ıas non veredes xͥnıſmo ⊂ga Dixo el con∂e ∂on ʀemonꞇ come∂e ∂õ ʀ̊ 𝔷 penſſe∂es ∂e fol Since the back of the last folio was left blank, it was used shortly after the codex binding for probationes pennae, where several hands wrote the following texts: the beginning of a Castilian version of Epitus or Diálogo de Epicteto y el emperador Adriano,20 a wrong quotation of PMC 3377-80 (probably memorized), the first words of the Pater Noster, Ps. 110 (109 iuxta LXX):1-3 (text of Latin Vulgate), a full Pater Noster, and an incomplete Ave Maria. The first two texts were written in the so-called letra de albalaes, a variety of Iberian semihybrida typical of the first half of the 14th century,21 while the other four were written in a textus rotundus quite similar to that used by the first binder. Perhaps a bit later, during the second half of the 14th century, the aforementioned “jongleur’s colophon” was added after the scribal subscriptio at the end of fol. 74r. It is impossible to determine the date of the second binding. The third one was carried out in a very simple Renaissance style shortly before 1596, probably at the time when the codex arrived to the town hall of Vivar (the village were, according to a well-established tradition, the Cid was born).22 In newly added flyleaves, several records were written that attest to the codex’s reception by successive municipal clerks: Martin Blanco (undated, but according to his Humanistic script that shows no signs of Gothic features, sometime after 1550), Francisco López (1635), Pedro Alonso (1670?), and Francisco de Abajo (1685). As for the dating of the codex itself, Menéndez Pidal defended that it was copied in May 1307, according to the scribe’s colophon: “Per aƀƀaꞇ le eſcrıuıo enel mes de mayo / En era de mıỻ 𝔷 .C.C xL.v. años”. Since there is a space in the date between the hundreds and the tens, he thought that a third C had 19 20 21 22 PMC 1027-28. A letter r is missing after ga. Thus, the primitive reading of v. 1028 in the manuscript would have been “Dixo el con∂e ∂on ʀemonꞇ come∂e ∂õ ʀ̊ 𝔷 penſſe∂es ∂e folgar”. See Bizzarri, “Epitus (Diálogo de Epicteto y el Emperador Adriano)”. Nevertheless, the Epitus seems to display features proper of the letra precortesana, a Gothic semihybrida developed during the second half of the 14th century. The codex was already in Vivar in that year, which we know through the oldest of the modern copies, that of the antiquarian Juan Ruiz de Ulibarri (see below). 52 Montaner been erased in order to age the manuscript.23 Thus, the year of the copy would be mcccxlv of the Hispanic era, that is, ad 1307.24 Nevertheless, an examination with a surface exploring video-microscope and a hyperspectral photo camera demonstrated that nothing had been written in, or expunged from, that space;25 thus, the scribe’s suscriptio refers to mccxlv of the Hispanic era, that is, ad 1207. This date is not compatible with the codex script, which is a variety of Gothic that can be dated between 1280 and 1340. Therefore, it must be concluded that the colophon is a subscriptio copiata which reproduces the colophon of its model, a lost manuscript from the beginning of the 13th century.26 On the other hand, the presence of this colophon in the 1207 codex means that it was not a draft or an author’s original, but a formal copy of a previous model. As for the 14th-century codex itself, since the Gothic majuscules with inner double hairlines did not survive after the first third of 14th-century, and the use of monochrome flourished initials drawn cum spatiis started around 1320, the aforementioned interval can be narrowed to the decennial 1320-30.27 This date is also supported by spelling data, which point to the first third of the 14th century:28 1. The codex’s systematic use of ⟨y⟩ as grapheme of vowel /i/ in the initial position is a usual feature only after Alfonso X of Castile, who died in 1284. In addition, the scribe used ⟨y⟩ after a consonant in rising diphthongs twice: “mye∂o” (v. 1079), “ʀyen∂a” (v. 1747). 23 Menéndez Pidal, ed., Cantar de Mio Cid, vol. I, pp. 4-6 and 12-13. This explanation had already been proposed by the first editor of the PMC, Sánchez, Colección de poetas castellanos, vol. I, pp. 221-22, who offered three possibilities: a) the scribe added a third “C” by mistake and then erased it, b) the scribe added a tironian et and then erased it since it was unnecessary, and c) another person erased a third “C” in an attempt to pass the codex off as being much older, and therefore more valuable. It must be noted that the copy made in 1596 by Ruiz de Ulibarri already read “En Era de mill. ʓ cc xLv. años” (BNE, MSS/6328, fol. 93r), and at that time the third conjecture offered by Sánchez seemed rather anachronistic. The so-called Hispanic era or Caesar era, whose first year is 38 BC, was the preferred dating system in Iberia beginning in the Visigothic kingdom, and was used in Castile until 1384 when the Anno Domini system was adopted by a decree enacted by the Cortes de Segovia in 1383. See Montaner, “Ecdótica”, pp. 39-42, and “La fotografía hiperespectral”, pp. 275-77. Michael, “Per Abbat, ¿autor o copista?”, p. 205. See Montaner, ed., Cantar de mio Cid, pp. 491-95. I wish to thank Javier Rodríguez Molina for providing me with this information, which he will justify in detail in a forthcoming book on the PMC’s language. In the meantime, see his chapter in this volume. 24 25 26 27 28 The Poema de mio Cid as Text 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 53 The systematic use of grapheme ⟨v⟩ representing an initial /u/ or /v/. The use of initial double consonants ⟨ſſ⟩ and ⟨rr⟩, and the (small) capital ⟨ʀ⟩, as much as the use of ⟨rr⟩ and ⟨ʀ⟩ after nasal, as graphemes of /r/. The graphic reflection as /i/ of the vocalization of a previous implosive /g/ in “ʀeyna∂o” (v. 211), instead of the older form regnado. The systematic use of ⟨ç⟩ before a palatal vowel: çe, çi. The use of i longa ⟨ȷ⟩ that descends below the baseline instead of its capital form ⟨J⟩, which is usual in the second half of 14th century. The representation of the group /nasal + p/ by ⟨np⟩ in preference to ⟨mp⟩. The use of ⟨nt⟩ instead of the final /n/ in “algunꞇ” (v. 1744). As for the codex’s provenance, the available data does not allow us to reach any well-established conclusion. Menéndez Pidal thought that it was a jongleur’s manuscript, mainly because of the jongleur’s colophon and its modest appearance.29 Even if one accepts the existence of something so debatable,30 our in-quarto codex on parchment would be too large and too expensive for that purpose.31 On the other hand, the aforementioned colophon says that “el romanz / eſley∂o”, that is, ‘the story is read’, while it is undoubtable that jongleurs performed epic poems by singing, as attested by the French and Spanish medieval names for the genre: chansons (de geste) and cantares (de gesta).32 Since the codex was kept in Vivar at least since the 16th century, it has also been argued that it was commissioned two centuries earlier by the town council itself.33 Nevertheless, the present binding is almost contemporary to the first record of the manuscript’s presence at Vivar, and it is consistent with the 29 30 31 32 33 Menéndez Pidal, Poesía juglaresca y juglares, pp. 384-85. There are no verifiable samples of a jongleur’s or minstrel’s manuscript; see Taylor, “The Myth of the Minstrel Manuscript” (even though his arguments are not always solid); and Bayo, “La datación del Cantar de Mio Cid”, pp. 22-25. At a time when the pergamino de paño (cloth parchment), that is to say, paper, had even been validated for legal records (Sánchez Mariana, “El libro en la Baja Edad Media”, p. 198), it is hard to believe that a minstrel would have made a libretto copied on parchment. As Paolo Trovato points out to me, the in-quarto (a very common format before printing) would ensure greater readability, but this was not the primary role of an aide-mémoire, which a jongleur’s manuscript is supposed to be. Interestingly, a contemporary manuscript of the PMC’s sole codex, that of the poem Disputa de Elena y María, which has been considered a prototypic minstrel’s copy (even if it was probably a pocket book), is a small volume written on paper (65 × 55 mm). See Rossell, “La épica románica era cantada” and Poesia i Música. Smith, “¿Se escribió en Cardeña el Poema de mio Cid?”, pp. 471-73 (who thinks that the copy was requested to the scriptorium of San Pedro de Cardeña by the people of Vivar); Catalán, La épica española, pp. 118 and 433-36. 54 Montaner receipt formulas written down by the municipal clerks in the modern flyleaves. This strongly suggests that the volume was bound just as it entered the council archive at Vivar. This is an important, but still not insurmountable, objection to the hypothesis that it was requested by the people of Vivar, whereas the nature of the probationes pennae on fol. 74v poses a major obstacle. On the one hand, there are no legal expressions, which are usually found in codices preserved in municipal clerk’s offices.34 On the other hand, the presence of a fragment of a didactic work, the Epitus, and a passage from the psalm sung at Sunday vespers are not easy to explain in a bureaucratic environment. Finally, there is no proof of any celebration carried out at that time by Vivar’s council that could explain the “jongleur’s colophon”. A third conjecture was that the codex originated from a historiographical workshop.35 Here again, the material features of the manuscript do not support the hypothesis. Parchment was too expensive a material to be employed in a purely utilitarian booklet, but at that time its use was not impossible even if paper was becoming quite common.36 More important is the use of a semiformal Gothic script (hybrida, semitextualis), instead of the quick informal variety (cursiva, nottularis) that would have fit the alleged practical purpose of the codex. Moreover, the manuscript lacks medieval interventions typical of a historiographical use: underlinings, marks in the margin (such as bracketing, crosslets, pointing hands, or paragraphs) and marginal or interlinear remarks or additions.37 Last but not least, this hypothesis leaves without explanation the probationes pennae and the “jongleur’s colophon”. The best, although not undisputable, hypothesis is that the codex was copied for the Benedictine Abbey of San Pedro de Cardeña,38 where the Cid was buried after the withdrawal of the Castilian conquerors from Valencia in 1102. 34 35 36 37 38 See Montaner, ed., Cantar de mio Cid, pp. 500-02. Orduna, “El testimonio del códice de Vivar”; Bayo, “La datación del Cantar de Mio Cid”. Cf. Sánchez Mariana, “La ejecución de los códices en Castilla”, p. 318, and “El libro en la Baja Edad Media”, pp. 202-03. Most probably, the borradores or working drafts of the royal scriptorium of Alfonso X of Castile were already made of paper (Sánchez Mariana, “El libro en la Baja Edad Media”, p. 198). One of the few Iberian historical drafts of this period that has survived, the manuscript B of Juan Fernández de Heredia’s Grant Crónica de Espanya (Barcelona, Biblioteca Nacional de Catalunya, ms. 355), was written on paper, but it was done in the las quarter of 14th century; see Geijerstam, “Un esbozo de la Grant Crónica de Espanya”. The few marginal marks present in the codex are of a later date, as revealed by its humanistic ductus; see Montaner, ed., Cantar de mio Cid, p. 500. Montaner, ed., Cantar de mio Cid (2007), pp. cclxxxvii-ccxcvi, and (2011/16), pp. 502-06; Zaderenko, “Per Abbat en Cardeña” and “Per Abbat en Cardeña. Addenda”. The Poema de mio Cid as Text 55 In this case, the material conditions of the unique manuscript can be explained because it was made pro memoria, as part of the intangible heritage of the monastery linked to one of the main characters in its history, but in a period of crisis in which the Abbey could not afford an expensive luxurious codex.39 On the other hand, the probationes pennae on fol. 74v (three prayers and the incipit of a didactical text) are proper of a monastic scriptorium. Finally, the “jongleur’s colophon” can be linked to the devotion to the Cid’s memory and tomb, well attested in the first half of 14th century,40 and linked to the composition of an epitaph for the Cid’s tomb in epic style:41 Cid Ruy Díez só que yago aquí encerrado e vencí al rey Bucar con treinta e seis reyes de paganos. Estos treinta e seis reyes, los veinte e dos murieron en el campo; vencilos sobre Valencia desque yo muerto encima de mi cavallo. Con ésta son setenta e dos batallas que yo vencí en el campo. Gané a Colada e a Tizona, por ende Dios sea loado. Amén. Written as a sole work on resistant parchment when cheaper paper was already available, and in a clear and quite regular variety of Gothic script – hybrid of textualis and nottularis (be it characterized as nottula separata, cursiva formata, semitextualis, or textualis currens) – the unique medieval manuscript of the PMC is a tough and tidy codex, surely not for display but not for work in a scriptorium either. It was most probably a memorial copy, made c.1325 for the preservation of the already old poem, and presumably ordered by the Monastery of San Pedro de Cardeña at a time when its monks were deeply interested in the figure of the heroic warrior whose remains were buried there. 3 Other Witnesses: Modern Manuscript Copies and Prose Versions in Castilian Chronicles As I said before, there are other manuscript copies of the PMC, all of them from a later date and derived from the unique codex then kept in Vivar. Unfortunately, the missing folios were already lost when these transcriptions were done. Until 39 40 41 Montaner, ed., Cantar de mio Cid, pp. 502-03. Smith, “The diffusion of Cid cult”; Montaner, ed., Cantar de mio Cid, pp. 502-6; see also the chapters by Zaderenko and Bautista in this volume. Montaner, “El epitafio épico del Cid”. 56 Montaner now, only the copy made by Juan Ruiz de Ulibarri had been known, but other copies have been found very recently in various libraries.42 Therefore, the current list of modern manuscripts includes: 1. 2. 3. 4. 42 43 Madrid, Biblioteca Nacional de España, MSS/6328, in-quarto volume on paper, 211 × 149 mm, 93 fols. + [8] sheets, 1596; fol. 1r “+ | Historia del ƒamoso Cauallero Rodrigo | de Bibar llamado por otro nombre | Çid Campeador ~ | ʃacada desu Original por Juan Ruiz de | Vlibarri en Burgos a 20 de Octubre | De 1596 años”; fol. 93r: “Yo Juan Ruiz de_Vlibarri y_leyba. saque_eſta | hiſtoria_de_su _original. El_qual que∂a en_el | archibo del_ Concejo de_Bibar – En_burgos | a_Veınte dıas del_mes_∂eoctubre, de 1596 años”, and added later by other hand: “El_Original estaba en_el_lugar de_Bibar. | Hubole el S.r Sanchez por intercesion_∂el_ S.r | Llaguno, Secretario del_Consejo de Estado. | Emendamos por él esta copia: y asi esta equi-|vale_al original. Pero por él lo publico el | referido_ S.r Sanchez en sus Poesias Antiguas | tom. 1 | J. Ant. Pellicer. | Ma∂ri∂, Ag.to 21 de | 1792”.43 Madrid, Biblioteca de la Real Academia de la Historia, Ms. N-34, in-folio volume on paper, 301 × 207 mm, 391 fols., 16th or early 17th century; factitious collection of document copies mainly dated between 1590 and 1623, which contains a fragment of PMC 1-197 (fols. 96r-100r); fol. 96r: “Vealos el Secret.º Gracián /. | Verʃos de_la_Historia del Çi∂ Rui∂iaz Campea∂or / | sacados de un libro antiguo escripto en pergamino que | El conçejo de_ Viuar tiene en sus Archiuos / faltan muchas | hojas y lo q̑ ʃe halla es desde el destierro / ~ || Hizieron hacer esta_Hist.ª en_el verʃo q̑ entonçes ʃe_ vʃaba | los Reyes nietos del çi∂ ~”, fol. 100r: “mereçer nos los hedes ca_esto es aguiʃa∂o / | Solo_ʃe_ʃaco haﬅa_aqui”. Oviedo, Biblioteca Universitaria de Oviedo, Ms. M-290, in-folio volume on paper, 330 × 230 mm, [89] unnumbered fols., 18th century; fol. [3]r: “De los sos oios tan fuere mientre lorando”, fol. [87]r: “En Era de mill e C.C ….. XLV. años”. Sevilla, Biblioteca Capitular y Colombina, Ms. 58-4-26, in-quarto volume on paper, 209 × 152 mm, 164 fols., c.1760; factitious volume of works and notes by Cándido María Trigueros (1736-98) which contains a fragment of PMC 1-197 (fols. 53r-58r); fol. 53r: “Este es un traslado del Historia del Cid Ruy Días Campeador, sacada de un libro antiguo escrito en pergamino, I wish to thank Francisco Bautista for providing me with information on these manuscripts he recently discovered. Available on line at <http://tinyurl.com/BNE-MSS-3628>. On the particular circumstances of this copy, see Montaner, ed., Cantar de mio Cid, pp. 508-09. The Poema de mio Cid as Text 5. 57 que el Conzejo de Vibar tiene en sus archivos”, fol. 58r: “merecer nos los edes ca esto es aguesado”. Sevilla, Biblioteca Capitular y Colombina, Ms. 59-2-13, in-folio volume on paper, 301 × 205 mm, [146] unnumbered fols., 18th century; a compilation of medieval epic legends written down by a single hand, which comprises the Estoria del conde Fernán González (fols. [1]r-[88]v), the Estoria de los siete ynfantes de Lara (fols. [89]r-[138]v) and a fragment of PMC 1-197 (fols. [141]r-[146]r); fol. [141]r: “Este es un tratado de la Histo- | ria del Çid Rui Diaz Campeador, sacado | de un libro antiguo escripto en pergamino, | que el Conçejo de Bibar tiene en sus archi- | vos el tenor del es el siguiente”, fol. [146]r. “mereçer no los hedes ca esto es aguisado”. The first and second manuscripts are direct copies of the 14th-century codex. The fourth and fifth manuscripts are copies of the second one.44 The third manuscript is very similar, although not identical, to the first edition published by Sánchez in the first volume of his Colección de poesías castellanas (1779). It could be a copy akin to the original de imprenta or printer’s copy, but it could also be a handwritten copy of the printed text. From a textual point of view, all these copies are codices descripti; therefore, they are not useful for a recensio that could help establish the text (constitutio textus), even if they offer interesting data about the modern knowledge of the PMC before Sánchez’s edition. There is also an indirect tradition related to the PMC through the so-called Alfonsine chronicles,45 that is, the historiographical texts that ultimately derive from the Estoria de España composed under the direction of King Alfonso X 44 45 Trigueros referred to the present-day BRAH Ms. N-34 (which he dated to c.1500) in his unpublished Disertación sobre el verso suelto y la rima (1766) that is preserved in the same Colombina Ms. 58-4-26, fols. 1r-52v; cf. Aguilar Piña, “Cándido María Trigueros y el Poema del Cid”; and Galván, El Poema del Cid en España, 1779-1936, pp. 34-35. The importance of indirect tradition for an accurate edition is out of discussion in textual scholarship, unless based on the “scribal version” criterion (see below). The exceptional value of relying on Alfonsine chronicles to establish the text of the Poema de mio Cid was first noticed by Menéndez Pidal, “El Poema del Cid y las Crónicas Generales de España”, and developed in his edition, Cantar de mio Cid, vol. I, pp. 124-36, and vol. III, pp. 1185-91. More recently, it has been emphasized by Armistead, “The Initial Verses of the Cantar de Mio Cid”, “From Epic to Chronicle: An Individualist Appraisal”, and “Cantares de gesta y crónicas alfonsíes”; Orduna, “La edición crítica y el codex unicus: El texto del Poema de Mio Cid”, and Catalán, La épica española, 441-42. Nevertheless, the textual use of those prose versions has its limits, cf. Montaner, “Cave carmen! De huellas de asonancia a ‘prosa rimada’ en las prosificaciones épicas cronísticas” and “El uso textual de la tradición indirecta (Historia Roderici, § 13 y Cantar de mio Cid, v. 14b)”. 58 Montaner of Castile. The chronicles relevant to the textuality of the PMC are the Versión crítica, composed at the end of Alfonso X’s reign (1282-84); the Versión amplificada or sanchina compiled at the court of Sancho IV in 1289; and the Crónica manuelina and the Crónica de Castilla (both composed c.1300).46 As far as the PMC is concerned, none of them directly used the Poema, but rather a prose version elaborated in the historiographical workshop of Alfonso X.47 This is true even of the so-called “Interpolación cidiana” (the Cid’s Interpolation) incorporated into the recension of the Versión amplificada represented by manuscript F, later inherited and reelaborated by the Crónica manuelina and the Crónica de Castilla.48 The only exception is the passage of the Crónica de Castilla corresponding to the missing beginning of the PMC, which probably is based on memories from a recited version, and not on a written text. Such an origin could explain the isolated use of the oral source.49 Thanks to this passage, about forty per cent of the missing lines can be recovered.50 The aforementioned Alfonsine prosification of the PMC was based on a poetic text that very closely resembles the version that has reached us.51 It was a complete text since it did not have the textual gaps of the extant manuscript.52 The close relationship between the Alfonsine manuscript and the sole codex is proved by some common readings.53 The clearest cases are those related to place names. For example, in v. 545, the manuscript reads “Paſſaron las aguas enꞇraron al campo ∂e toꝛançıo”; this place name appears as Taranç(i)o in the Versión crítica, p. 471, and Taraçon in the Versión amplificada, p. 526. Neverheless, the laisse rhyme is á-(e) and requires the use of the form Toranç ~Toranz (like in v. 1492). In vv. 571, 585, 625, 632, 773, and 842, all the sources 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 See Francisco Bautista’s chapter in this volume. In the pages ahead, I will quote the Versión crítica using Campa’s edition, La “Estoria de España” de Alfonso X, and the Versión amplificada (including the “Interpolación cidiana”) using Menéndez Pidal’s edition, Primera crónica general, indicating the page number in both cases only when necessary. Smith, “The First Prose Redaction of the Poema de mio Cid”. For more details, see the aforementioned chapter by Bautista. This is the hypothesis proposed by Bautista in his chapter, with whom I agree. Armistead, “The Initial Verses of the Cantar de Mio Cid”; Montaner, “De nuevo sobre los versos iniciales”; D’Agostino, “Cantar de Mio Cid, vv. 1-99”, pp. 15 and 24-30. For a comparison of the poetic text and the chronicle versions, see Dyer, El “Mio Cid” del taller alfonsí; and Montiel, Estudio comparativo. Several scholars have thought that the model of the prose version had the same internal lacunae as the extant codex, but Hook, “Verbal economy”, pp. 105-06, has proved that the historiographical text corresponding to the first missing folio has a poetic origin. On the conjunctive and disjunctive variations of the missing Alfonsine manuscript with respect to the unique codex, see Montaner, ed., Cantar de mio Cid, pp. 533-36. The Poema de mio Cid as Text 59 read Teruel, a clear lectio facilior instead of the lesser-known place name Terrer preserved in v. 860 and partially in v. 585 of the manuscript – both of which are cases of a correction made by the scribe himself.54 A similar substitution with a lectio facilior is found in vv. 952 and 1089, where Huesca substitutes Huesa, required by the context. As a sample of other common errors, let us take a look at v. 1029, which appears in the manuscript as “Q͂ yo ∂exar me moꝛır q̄ non qͥ ero comer”; while the chronicles read “que yo non comere, mas dexar me he morir” (Versión crítica, p. 480) and “ca yo non combre nin fare al si non dexarme morir” (Versión amplificada, p. 533-34). The three sources use forms of the verb comer, while the laisse rhyme is á-(e), which requires the line to end with yantar, as in vv. 285, 304, and 3051 (but in this case the error could be polygenetic). On the other hand, the Alfonsine prosification has better readings than the extant codex in several places. Here again, the place names are a good test case. Thus, in v. 1475 the Versión crítica reads Fronchales instead of the meaningless frontael.55 In v. 1493, the manuscript reads “Poꝛ el val ∂e arbuxe∂o pıenſſan a ∂e prunar”, where the unknown “arbuxe∂o” was written over a previous illegible form. The “Interpolación cidiana” reads “por el val de Arbuxuelo aiuso” (Versión amplificada, p. 595),56 which is the correct place name. There are also better readings of common nouns, as in v. 1012, “Prıſo lo al con∂e poꝛa ſu ꞇ̚rra lo leuaua”, where the chronicle reads: “E el Çid leuo al conde preso para su tienda” (Versión crítica, p. 479; Versión amplificada, p. 533, which omits “el Cid”), with tienda instead of tierra, as required by the context. The presence of both conjunctive and disjunctive variations means that the 14th-century codex did not copy the Alfonsine manuscript, but both descend from the same archetypus, Per Abbats’s lost codex of 1207, unless that same codex was the direct source of the Alfonsine prosification.57 In turn, the archetypus copied by Per Abbat had a previous model, a codex vetus that started the known textual tradition of the PMC. In light of the available evidence, the most 54 55 56 57 See Montaner, “Revisión textual”, pp. 142-43. The “Interpolación cidiana” included in the Version amplificada abbreviates the passage and therefore omits this place name. In this case, the Versión crítica abbreviates the passage and suppresses the place name. This would be the more economical, and thus, the preferable hypothesis; however, there are a few cases in which the Alfonsine manuscript offered worse readings than the 14thcentury codex. Therefore, one could argue that there was an intermediate copy between Per Abbat’s manuscript and the Alfonsine prosification. See Montaner, ed., Cantar de mio Cid, p. 536. 60 Montaner likely filiation of direct and indirect witnesses of the PMC textual tradition can be represented by the following stemma:58 [PMC codex vetus] Before 1207 [Per Abbat’s archetypus] May 1207 [*Alphonsine manuscript] Between 1207 and 1270 [Alphonsine prosification] About 1270 Alphonsine chronicles 1270 onwards codex unicus (BNE VITR/7/17) About 1320-30 Copy by Juan Ruiz de Ulibarri (BNE MSS/6328) 1596 Fragmentary copy (Ms. BRAH N-34) About 1600 [Printer’s copy] Near 1779 Trigueros’ copy (Ms. Colomb. 58-4-26) Near 1760 Anonymous copy (Ms. [?] Colomb. 59-2-13) 18th century Full copy (Ms. BUO M-290) 18th century 58 Poema del Cid 1st edition by T. A. Sánchez 1779 The names between square brackets are those of lost sources. The asterisk marks a dubious item. See Bautista’s chapter for more details about the Alfonsine chronicles. The Poema de mio Cid as Text 4 61 Reading Challenges and Editing Problems It is clear by now that any edition of the PMC must rely almost exclusively on its codex unicus, the copy of Per Abbat’s archetypus made c.1320-30. This could be a minor problem if the manuscript had not been damaged over time. The most severe damage is the aforementioned loss of three folios, that is, about 135/150 lines of text. Another important problem is the poor readability of parts of the manuscript. Less serious is the loss of some letters and even words trimmed out by the binders (vv. 466, 826b, 1028, 1033b, and 1690). Although the text’s illegibility is at times caused by faded ink, it is more often due to the utilization of chemical reagents by previous readers and editors from at least the late 16th century to the beginning of the 20th. The reactants enhanced the faded ink, rendering it easier to read only for a short time. Later, however, a black stain appeared where the chemical product was applied. As a result, there are now several passages in the manuscript that are nearly or wholly illegible. Because of that, all recent editors (except Michael and myself) have had to follow those passages in the paleographic edition prepared by Menéndez Pidal, who was the last editor to use reactants that were as strong as ammonium hydrosulfide and hydrochloric acid. In an attempt to overcome this difficulty, Michael studied the manuscript under a Wood’s lamp, which produces ultraviolet light (at a wavelength of approximately 365 nanometers).59 Since this procedure enhances the contrast between the faded ink and the writing surface, it is a useful way to read some passages hardly readable by the naked eye. Unfortunately, it is not effective on the areas affected by reagents, which leave a stain that acts the same way as ink, and makes it impossible to distinguish one from the other. I have had the opportunity to directly examine the codex four times (on 2 and 31 July 1992, 20 April 1993, and 9 to 11 May 2007). On the first occasion, I used a Wood’s lamp and an infrared reflectography camera. The latter is commonly used on paintings to reveal underlying layers, in particular, underdrawings, underpaintings, and pentimenti. It is also useful on written documents when carbon black was used in the ink; this, however, is not the case of the PMC’s extant codex, whose ink has a metal base that, when oxidized, gives it its current brown tone. Thus, this ink becomes virtually transparent to an infrared sensitive camera. It was useful, however, to determine that there was no abrasion on the space of the scribal colophon and, therefore, no erasure of a third C or any other sign.60 On the second and third occasion, I had 59 60 Michael, ed., Poema de Mio Cid, p. 54. Montaner, “Ecdótica”, pp. 23 and 40-41. 62 Montaner the chance to use a surface exploring video-microscope, whose shots could be later edited in an image laboratory. This proved to be a very useful, though still limited, tool. It allowed me to verify doubtful readings caused by faded ink (for example, vv. 338, 1438, or 2341), as well as to (partially) recover erased text (vv. 75-76, 440, and the scribal colophon) and, in a few cases, the text affected by the application of reagents (for example, vv. 260, 1124, or 1921).61 On the fourth occasion, I had the opportunity to use a more powerful tool, the hyperspectral camera.62 Hyperspectral imaging collects and processes information from across the electromagnetic spectrum. It not only enables the capturing of images in several narrow spectral bands in a wide spectral range, but it also records a full spectrum per image pixel. The goal of hyperspectral imaging is to obtain the spectrum for each pixel in the image of a scene, with the purpose of finding objects, identifying materials, or detecting processes.63 For any picture taken of a given manuscript sample, the hyperspectral camera shoots thirty photographs, each one sensitive only to a specific wavelength, from ultraviolet to infrared. Such a procedure allows us to see at a distinct spectral point specific kinds of elements while not others. In general, the shots sensitive to ultraviolet light allow for the enhancement of faded ink, while those sensitive to infrared light are usually more useful for studying the writing surface. The text hidden by the action of reactants usually can be seen in the shot made at a specific spectral point, but further digital enhancement of the image is often required in order to achieve the appropriate differentiation between its distinct strata (see figure 1.2). This method allows us to confront the same problems treated with the infrared camera and get much better results.64 In addition to the capability of text recuperation, hyperspectral imaging produces a spectral signature for each pixel point in the image, providing the information required for an accurate material identification. This gives the possibility of distinguishing between several written interventions in the 61 62 63 64 Montaner, “Ecdótica”, p. 23 onward. I used a MuSIS hyperspectral camera produced by Forth Photonics, which is sensitive in the spectral range from 365 nm (ultraviolet) to 1550 nm (near infrared). It is affiliated with the Resolve Program, a specific Manuscript Image Analysis Utility also powered by Forth Photonics, which helps with the recovery of hidden text. See Grahn and Geladi, eds., Techniques and Applications of Hyperspectral Image Analysis, pp. 1-15. See Montaner, “La fotografía hiperespectral”, pp. 262-77, and “The Medievalist’s Gadget”, pp. 359-64. The Poema de mio Cid as Text 63 manuscript,65 which is one of the problems that editors of the PMC face. For example, on fol. 3v, several written interventions of the same scribe are found along with other entirely different hands. The paleographic analysis can determine which letters are the work of the scribe and those that are not, but it is scarcely helpful when both have fairly similar strokes. On the other hand, it does not provide useful tools for distinguishing between the various interventions of a single hand. The hyperspectral analysis does not allow the scholar to identify hands, but it is extremely accurate for identifying inks. Thus, the combination of both paleographic and hyperspectral variables proves to be very enlightening. Figure 1.3 shows the difference between spectral reflection curves of the original text of the copyist, with more (A, A′, and A″) and less ink in the pen (A‴, A′v), and his interventions in the first (B) and in the second (C) recognitiones, besides the additions of the other hand (D).66 Thus, in addition to the scribe’s handwriting, several other hands can be identified, but the exact number is still unknown. The easiest to recognize is that of the first binder, who writes in textus rotundus only at the end of the lines that he trimmed out. There is also another Medieval hand that writes in Gothic cursiva or nottula with a very thin pen, adding some isolated letters, like a beta-shaped s ⟨ϐ⟩ above a dubious correction made by the copyist in v. 1078 (see below) or the “∂e” above the adverb “∂en” in order to adopt the full and more usual form dende.67 Of greater importance is another intervention, quite massive, by someone who read the entire manuscript, or most of it, and went over many lines where the ink was faded with another blacker ink. He tried to accommodate his trace to the original form of the letters, but often reveals his own Gothic cursive ductus.68 He also made several linguistic changes that are generally modernizations to the spelling.69 There are also several interventions in Humanist cursive script, most of which are very difficult to identify. Juan Ruiz de Ulibarri, the author of the copy made in 1596, also intervened. Sometimes he went over faded letters; other 65 66 67 68 69 See Montaner, “La fotografía hiperespectral”, pp. 277-80, and “The Medievalist’s Gadget”, pp. 364-65. Since the analysis of the different handwritings is extremely slow, a new paleographical edition based on the hyperspectral imaging is still in process. Meanwhile, the principal findings have been incorporated to Montaner, ed., Cantar de mio Cid (2011/16). This addition has aroused some critical commentary; see Montaner, “Revisión textual”, pp. 143-44. His script displays features of the Gothic semihybrida, known as letra precortesana, used during the second half of the 14th century and early-15th century. On these and other minor interventions in different varieties of Gothic script, see Montaner, ed., Cantar de mio Cid, pp. 481-82, and “The Medievalist’s Gadget”, pp. 364-65. 64 Montaner times, he wrote notes above the line in order to clarify words difficult to read. To do this, he applied a reagent, gallic acid (3,4,5-trihydroxybenzoic acid), which caused the effects I described above. Another hand, written with a wider pen nib and with blacker ink, probably corresponds to the municipal clerk Francisco López, who, in 1632, signed one of the receipts left on the flyleaves. This hand modernized several spellings of the codex and added superscript letters, for example, “Tornauasͤ” (v. 232) or “naſcoͥ » (vv. 663 and 787).70 Besides the material problems of readability and handwriting identification, the codex also poses several textual problems.71 They are basically the common kind of scribal deviations from his model that are present in any manuscript transmission. Some of them seem to have been introduced by the 14th-century scribe, but it is often impossible to know if they existed in his model, except for those instances when a comparison with the Alfonsine chronicles is possible. In many cases there is an alteration of a word produced by a partial substitution, omission, or addition. For example, we find suelta instead of suelto (v. 496), la instead of las (v. 1802), and rogand instead of rogad (v. 1754). That happens frequently due to dittography (as minguaua instead of mingua in v. 821) or haplography (as mando instead of mandado in v. 494). Another typical alteration is caused by graphical equivalence, for example, between ⟨c⟩ and ⟨t⟩, which causes the appearance of arch instead of arth in v. 690. This phenomenon can be appreciated whenever the scribe himself detected and corrected an error, either while he was writing or during his two recognitiones. For example, in v. 1078 he wrote “caꞇa∂oꝛ”, but immediately retouched it in “caꞇã∂os”.72 The problem here is that not all the scribal corrections were accurate, especially those of the second revision, which were mostly conjectural.73 Verse 2482 provides a good example. Its actual reading is “Sobeıanas ſon las ganançıas q͂ ꞇo∂as an gana∂as”. Nevertheless, the referent of “ꞇo∂as” (retouched upon “ꞇo∂os”) are the Cid and his men, so it must be in masculine, and the laisse rhyme is á-o, not á-a, so the final word must be ganado. What seemingly happened here was that the scribe suffered from the well-known phenomenon of assimilation to context; because of this, he made the participle agree with 70 71 72 73 On these and other minor interventions in varieties of Humanist script, see Montaner, ed., Cantar de mio Cid, pp. 484-85, and “La fotografía hiperespectral”, p. 279-80. See the classifications proposed by Smith, ed., Poema de mio Cid, pp. 114-15; and Funes, “Cuestiones de ecdótica”, pp. 45-46. A later hand added a small and very thin beta-shaped s ⟨ϐ⟩ over the scribal –s in cursive Gothic script. This, by the way, can only be noticed if one has a theory of how the PMC works as a literary artifact, unless the copyist produces pure ungrammatical alterations (see below). The Poema de mio Cid as Text 65 ganancias, which is in femenine plural –as, instead of keeping the unmarked form–o. In an unsuccessful attempt to fix the problem he had caused himself, the scribe then changed todos to todas. The result increased the incoherence of the passage. Another source of textual disturbance is the substitution of a given word for a lectio facilior. Several examples have arisen in the comparison between the extant manuscript and Alfonsine chronicles. Verse 182 provides a conspicuous example, reading almofalla, i.e. ‘(Muslim) military camp’, where the sense requires the rare and archaic almoçalla, meaning ‘quilt, blanket’.74 Sometimes the scribe mistakenly separated verses due to an error of reading or retention. For example, vv. 221-22 are divided like this: “Vr͂a uertu∂ me uala głıoſa en my exı∂a 𝔷 me aıu∂e / El me acorra ∂e noch 𝔷 ∂e ∂ıa”, instead of “Vr͂a uertu∂ me uala głıoſa en my exı∂a / E me aıu∂e 𝔷 me acorra ∂e noch 𝔷 ∂e ∂ıa” (whose assonance pattern is í-a).75 Sometimes the complete fusion of two lines into one occurs, as in v. 16: “En ſu cõpaña .Lx. pen∂ones ⟨leuaua⟩ exıẽ louer mugıeres 𝔷 uarones”, where “leuaua” is an improper addition above the line made by the scribe himself during his second recognitio.76 Such fusion often causes part of the text to be lost, especially the second hemistich of the first verse involved, as in v. 477: “E fin ∂ub∂a corren faſta alcala lego la ſeña ðe mınaẏa”. Here, some text required by sense, meter, and rhyme between corren and fasta is missing. All these textual problems seemingly make the task of editing the PMC quite difficult, but in fact, it is not. The analysis delineated above makes it clear that the alterations of the early poetic text, which are few in number, are quite localized and do not transform its internal system beyond recognition. 5 Editorial Politics and Systemic Features Textual scholars tend to adopt one of two positions already established in the Alexandrian philology, and consequently, they are either “anomalists” or 74 75 76 See Corriente, “Arabismos en el Cantar de Mío Cid”, p. 104; cf. his chapter in this volume. In this case, it is possible that the error already existed in Per Abbat’s codex, as suggested by the secondary error of converting the conjunction E in the pronoun El. This error is easier to make if the conjunction E was already in the opening position, where the tironian et is never used. In his chapter in this volume, Bayo casts a doubt on the attribution of the intervention to the scribe himself, but it is well supported by both paleographical and spectrographic analysis; see Montaner, ed., Cantar de mio Cid, pp. 474-75; “La fotografía hiperespectral”, p. 279, and “The Medievalist’s Gadget”, pp. 364-65; see also here figure 3. 66 Montaner “analogists”, that is, they are either defenders of textual singularities, even if they seem at first glance anomalous, or they are prone to establish textual regularity according to the principle of analogy. In recent times, the supporters of these opposing positions have been called “conservatives” and “conjecturalists” respectively, because the former aims to preserve the fidelity of the codex chosen as the base for the edition, while the latter makes conjectures to correct the deficiencies of the source(s) of the edited work.77 This polarity, in its extreme manifestation, has been typical of the editors of the PMC since the 1970’s, as we will see. When several textual witnesses have survived, the textual scholar could become an “optimist” if he relies upon a basic codex, usually the most satisfactory one that is then called codex optimus, or he could become a “recensionist” if he makes a complete recensio or review of all the extant witnesses, for he “is convinced that he can disengage and pry loose this common text from these manuscripts”.78 When applied to a single witness tradition, these different attitudes become similar to the aforementioned anomalist = conservative against analogist = conjecturalist positions. In general, “the Optimist method is more popular with editors of vernacular texts”,79 and the PMC is not an exception, at least in recent years. This position has been strengthened by the so-called New Philology, which has defended the value of every single copy as a personal reinterpretation of the work, which becomes then a “scribal version”.80 Even if one accepts this rather questionable concept,81 it is not easily applied to the PMC’s extant codex. If the editor equates manuscript text and scribal version, he must transcribe everything that is written on each folio, including the various subsequent interventions mentioned above, which could produce textual pandemonium. If rigorously endorsed, that principle means accepting only the final version produced by the copyist after his second revision. Any other solution would be inconsistent with the idea of a scribal version, but this 77 78 79 80 81 Greetham, Textual Scholarship, pp. 3 and 298-300. Boyle, Integral Paleography, p. 35. On the recensionist method, also called “stemmatic” or “stemmatological”, see Trovato, Everything You Always Wanted to Know about Lachmann’s Method. Boyle, Integral Paleography, p. 33; see also Trovato, Everything You Always Wanted to Know about Lachmann’s Method, p. 78. See the seminal paper by Nichols, “Philology in a Manuscript Culture”. Trovato, Everything You Always Wanted to Know about Lachmann’s Method, pp. 43-45. I justify my own reluctance in Montaner, “El criterio frente al dogma”, pp. 161-65, and “The Medievalist’s Gadget”, pp. 365-66. The Poema de mio Cid as Text 67 implies conferring the rights denied to the author onto the scribe.82 This is a contradiction from a theoretical point of view and is a bad decision from a practical one, since it means accepting such incongruities as those found in the aforementioned v. 2482, among others. In fact, even the most conservative editors of the PMC have chosen between the different scribal interventions and have made other emendations as well. Thus, the already cited v. 16: “En ſu cõpaña .Lx. pen∂ones ⟨leuaua⟩ exıẽ louer mugıeres 𝔷 uarones”, is edited by Martin, Lacarra, and Bayo and Michael as two verses, 16 and 16b, without the addition of leuaua: “En su conpanna LX pendones, / exienlo ver mugieres e varones”.83 Certainly, there are not unconditioned readings of a text, and the direct consultation of the manuscript – as opposed to the supposed fake editions (especially the critical ones) – is by no means a guarantee of “authenticity”. On the other hand, carrying out a naive reading that disregards the complexity of the phenomenon and not employing available tools, such as the hyperspectral camera, is, at the very least, useless. However, if the editor can resort to new techniques and use experimental methods to help himself, it is assumed that there is a criterion allowing textual scholars to arrange the interventions in a hierarchical order. If such a criterion exists at the material level, why not admit that it can also exist at a conceptual one? In my opinion, we should admit that the text has coherence in itself, and that we can use criteria of inner cohesion when making judgments about variants and possible emendations. I am not speaking about unattainable authorial preferences, but about the mechanisms of a literary artifact with its own inner consistency that can be measured in terms of entropy.84 From a complemen82 83 84 This position lacks any basis in the vast majority of cases, although Canfora, Il copista come autore, tries to demonstrate the opposite. In fact, what he really shows is that some copyists (although by no means all of them) acted not like authors, but like editors. Nevertheless, they differed from textual scholars since they usually lacked the theoretical framework that could help them see beyond their artisanal and often routine task. This has already been observed by Kennedy, “The Scribe as Editor”, in a comparison that has become a cliché, paradoxically at the service of the “scribal version”, although, in fact, Kennedy downplays the scribe’s role. In any case, if the author’s sovereignty is not accepted, the copyist’s should not be either. What is at stake here is not properly the individual will, but the internal consistency of a given literary artifact and its coherence with the context of production and reception. Martin, ed., Chanson de Mon Cid, p. 56; Lacarra, ed., Poema de Mio Cid, p. 60 (who transcribes “conpaña”); Bayo and Michael, eds., Cantar de Mio Cid, p. 54 (who edit the number spelt out as “sessaenta”). I shall return later to this case. See Montaner, “Emendatio”; cf. also Rodríguez-Velasco, “La urgente presencia”, pp. 111-15; and Panateri, “Tradición manuscrita” (with a more metaphorical bias). 68 Montaner tary perspective, we can describe the literary work as a textual stimulus that produces a cognitive reaction in the form of a mental object provided with an internal coherence, as a reader’s response.85 Accordingly, it is possible to distinguish its own components from the progressive variations caused by transmission in the same way that we can distinguish the different hands and inks on the surface of the written page by virtue of hyperspectral analysis. Of course, it is always legitimate to faithfully reproduce a particular witness, but it is unfair to assume that this is the only right way of doing it, or even the way that is most respectful to the literary work transmitted in that particular source. Since we deal with texts and not with mere sets of letters, we are fully entitled to not limiting ourselves to transcribing isolated witnesses, but to editing the work as a whole. In the case of a codex unicus, that means paying equal attention to the different interventions in the manuscript as to the indirect tradition (if available), as well as emending the received text through an analysis of its internal operating mechanism.86 In my view, the task of editing must reach a balance between the principles of anomaly and analogy. This is especially necessary when the editor only has one witness, the codex unicus, which lacks an external control element. This balance occurs not only at the theoretical level (determining how far the anomaly can reach and where the analogy starts), but also at the pragmatic level. The textual scholar needs to establish those passages in the damaged section of the text that may be emended (by analogy or otherwise), and must identify what passages can be marked as faulty since the data necessary to intervene is lacking. In any case, it is one thing to accept certain limits to text emendation, and quite another to argue that deviant features are part of the internal system of the work. Although both approaches advocate preserving the transmitted text, they are different when it comes to studying its internal mechanism or its transmission problems. The proper balance between these two principles of anomaly and analogy requires disentangling the internal organization of each text and determining its own degree of consistency, that is to say, its level of entropy. Therefore, concordances, lexical indexes, and catalogs of formulas are the editor’s best instruments to decide in which case the text requires respecting certain unique features or standardizing these features by comparing them with other parallel passages. At this point, the knowledge of the copyist’s usus scribendi and the internal logic of the poem supplement the lack of other direct witnesses and allow us to achieve what, in a more populated textual tradition, would depend 85 86 Cf. Burke, “The Neuroaesthetics of Prose Fiction”. Cf. Trovato, Everything You Always Wanted to Know about Lachmann’s Method, pp. 266-74. The Poema de mio Cid as Text 69 on the recension. As a result, one can retrogressively trace the path of the textual variations and arrive at the end at the source after which these variations were made.87 Achieving this goal is justified by the fact that the text in its earliest available form (be it called “original” or otherwise) is the only one that allows us to properly discern its textual constitution as well as analyze its contextual insertion (including the author’s role) and, accordingly, explain the literary work in itself and within its social and cultural environment. Thus, the editor of the PMC, just as the editor of any other text, “must have a rationale for types and levels of emendation”.88 This rationale depends on the knowledge of systemic features. The study of these features allows the editor to pose the best hypothesis about the text’s internal organization, that is, the hypothesis that provides an explanation for a maximum amount of textual data with a minimum description length. With this hypothesis, the editor can establish the text and therefore construct the edition, which should be the best tentative text that can be offered with the available data.89 Since the inclusion in a genre implies, on one hand, a series of possible contents, and on the other, 87 88 89 I adapt here a quote from Boyle, Integral Paleography, p. 39 Greetham, Textual Scholarship, p. 4. Of course, any establishment of a text is a tentative one (that is, potentially subject to improvement, reassessment, or change), even in a paleographic edition, because further research sometimes can prove that the previous editing principles or the adopted solutions were wrong. Since Contini, this approach is usually formulated by saying that the critical edition is a working hypothesis (ipotesi di lavoro) about the author’s text: “un’edizione critica è, come ogni atto scientifico, una mera ipotesi di lavoro, la piú soddisfacente (ossia economica) che colleghi in sistema i dati” (“Ricordo di Joseph Bédier”, p. 130; see also Breviario di ecdotica, p. 74). Although this formulation has enjoyed a good deal of support (see Altschul, “L’espagnol castillan”, pp. 85-86 and 89), it is based on an incorrect conceptualization because “hypothetical” has very different epistemological and methodological implications than “tentative” or “provisional” or “subject to future falsation”. Since a “hypothesis” is a sub-positio (“under-position”), it only can be the basis for a “scientific act”, not the act itself: “A working hypothesis is a tentative assumption made in order to draw out and test its logical or empirical consequences. […] The role of the hypothesis is to guide the researcher by delimiting the area of research and to keep him on the right track” (Kothari, Research Methodology, p. 13). Therefore, the edition can be better described as the result of a textual research during which one or more editing hypotheses can be tested. Especially since the edition, even never being ultimate or conclusive, offers a real not a supposed text. So, the hypothetical issue cannot be the edition, but the theory about the textuality of a work on which the edition is based (cf. Contini himself, Breviario, p. 23). 70 Montaner a series of discursive techniques,90 those systemic features mainly affect formal aspects. In the case of the PMC, they basically consist of a meter based on accentual rhythm, syllabic number irregularity, and assonance, which results in the grouping of laisses having the same rhyme throughout, and a formulaic system used non-mechanically. All these traits are clear enough in the preserved witness as to deduce which were the original internal mechanisms of the poem and, therefore, to use them as a criterion for editing. Nevertheless, some of these features have been brought into question and, therefore, it seems necessary to briefly justify them once more.91 In the Spanish metric system, the rhythmic unit is not the foot but the verse, whose rhythmic frame consists of syllables and accents. The more formal and, usually, learned verses have a regular number of syllables, but the key element is always the accentual rhythm.92 Unlike this syllabic-accentual meter, the Spanish traditional meter can be characterized as accentual-syllabic, since the number of syllables is subordinate to the accentual cadence, provided by ictus or beats, that is, rhythmic relevant accents.93 The Castilian medieval epic meter belongs to the latter group, but its cadence pattern is currently unknown. Better said, we have not discovered the rules governing the distribution of beats throughout the verse.94 Thus, it is impossible for modern readers to determine if an epic line was thought to be rhythmically right by a medieval audience. It is therefore unfounded to introduce emendations metris causa, with a single exception related to the bipartite verse construction, because, on the one hand, every epic line has a caesura that divides it into two hemistichs and, on the other, any Spanish meter unit longer than the hendecasyllable 90 91 92 93 94 See Segre, Avviamento all’analisi, p. 259. The conjunction of those two series, established by the current literary system at a given time, is a code or guideline for both the composition and reception of literary works. See my previous and more extensive explanations in Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid (1993), pp. 30-56 and 93-94 (expanded in the revised edition of 2007, pp. clxiv-ccvii, ccxlivccxlix, ccciii-cccxiv, and cccxxviii-cccxlvi; see now 2011/16, pp. 374-417, 454-59, 51424, and 538-56), “Emendatio”, “Entre Procusto y Proteo”, “El uso textual de la tradición indirecta”, “Revisión textual”, and Montaner and Montaner, “Letters on ‘Manuscript Culture’”. Torre, El ritmo del verso (see especially pp. 102-04), Métrica española comparada, pp. 14-18 and 48-55, and “Sílabas y acentos”. Cf. Gončarenko, Stilističeskij analiz, pp. 29-33. See the Introduction to this volume as well as Bayo’s chapter. This author seems to dismiss any function of stress and confers the main role on the intonational phrase; however, intonation alone does not provide a metric rhythm. If this were so, verse would be indistinguishable from prose. See Torre, El ritmo del verso, pp. 42-50, and Blecua, ed., Fonética y fonología, pp. 428-30 and 444-45. The Poema de mio Cid as Text 71 requires a caesura.95 Consequently, an epic verse cannot have less than eleven syllables in order to have a caesura, and a single hemistich cannot have more; otherwise, the verse would have three instead of two caesurae, a nonexistent division in the traditional Castilian meter.96 The common caesura is a minori, that is, the second hemistich is usually longer than the first one. If the first hemistich is shorter (six syllables or less), it is likely that the second one is quite long (nine to eleven syllables).97 This allows us to suspect that when both hemistichs are very long (nine syllables or more), there is an anomaly.98 The total number of hypermetric hemistichs in the extant manuscript is very small, just 35 (i.e., an irrelevant 0.46 per cent). While most of them (20) are the result of the incorrect division of two verses, the other hypermetric hemistichs are produced by the addition of a spurious element, usually an onomastic component. An example of the most frequent case is provided by vv. 3258-59: “DeƼı∂ q͂ uos mereçı yfanꞇes en ȷuego o en vero / O en alguna ʀaƼõ aqͥ lo meıoꝛare a ȷuuıƼẏo ∂ela coꝛꞇ”.99 Since the caesura of v. 2358 should be placed 95 96 97 98 99 See Quilis, Métrica española, pp. 63-69; Paraíso, La métrica española, pp. 111-12; Torre, El ritmo del verso, p. 103. This fact is consistent with the behavior of the melodic unit in Spanish; see Blecua, ed., Fonética y fonología, p. 440. See Torre, Métrica española, pp. 88-90 and 96-99. This assertion, already advanced in Montaner, “Emendatio”, p. 688, has been questioned by D’Agostino, “La teoría de Chiarini”, p. 626, and Bayo in his chapter of this volume. D’Agostino doubts that this constraint was followed by the poet of the PMC. Bayo argues that “This is certainly true, but only as far as syllable-counting versification is concerned. Therefore, this cannot be applied to the PMC, in which longer second hemistichs occasionally occur, e.g.: 853 ‘¿Vaste, mio Çid? ¡Nuestras oraçiones vayante delante!’”. It must be remembered that the epic meter is not just accentual, but accentual-syllabic, since the cadence is based on the distribution of accents on a syllabic sequence. In other words, the accent always falls on syllables, and inter-tonic spaces can only be composed of syllables; therefore, syllabic and accentual levels are inextricably linked (Montaner, “Revisión textual”, pp. 157-58). On the other hand, there is no evidence suggesting that the phonological basis of Spanish prosody has changed since the Middle Ages, and thus, there is no reason to reject that principle. Finally, it must be noted that the alleged counterexample adduced by Bayo is very problematic; see Funes, “Cuestiones de ecdótica”, p. 47. Thus, the first hemistichs with six syllables or less are 32 per cent, as opposed to 7 per cent of second ones, while the second hemistichs with 10 syllables or more are 23 per cent, with only 9 per cent of first ones. See Pellen, “Le vers du Cid”, pp. 67-68; and Duffell, Syllable and accent, p. 106, who offers slightly different figures due to his assumption “that hiatus was the correct adjacent vowel treatment in the period concerned”, that is, the 13th century (p. 72). This is true for the learned cuaderna vía, but surely not for the traditional meters; see Montaner, “Emendatio”, p. 688, and Cantar de mio Cid, p. 385. Cf. D’Agostino, “La teoría de Chiarini”, pp. 626-27. In the manuscript, “ȷuuıƼẏo” is the form corrected by the scribe himself upon “ȷuuıƼo”. 72 Montaner after yfantes,100 the first hemistich would have ten syllables and the second one would have either six or seven (depending on the extent of synalepha). As for v. 3259, it seems that the caesura should be place after razón.101 If so, the first hemistich would have seven syllables and the second one would have fifteen, being hypermetric. Since the probability of finding razón as a rhyme word is 93 per cent (see note 97), it looks as if the scribe divided two lines in the wrong place, and they must be read as “Dezid que vos mereçí, yfantes, en juego o en vero o en alguna razón, / aquí lo mejoraré a juvizio de la cort”. The resulting v. 3259 can be divided by a caesura after mejoraré, because adverbial phrases usually fill the hemistich. Hence, each hemistich has eight syllables. However, the resulting v. 3258 has a hypermetric second hemistich of thirteen syllables. So, what has really happened here? The clue lies in the set phrase “en juego o en vero”, because this kind of binomial tends to fill the hemistich. This shows that not two, but three verses were merged here: Dezid que vos mereçí, yfantes, en juego o en vero o en alguna razón, aquí lo mejoraré a juvizio de la cort Nevertheless, the resulting first verse is hypometric since it has less than ten syllables. On the other hand, it lacks the rhyme word, which should match the ó assonance. The solution to this problem is to reinstate “de Carrión”, which is the usual way to refer to the young noblemen in the PMC.102 Finally, the verses can be restored as: Dezid que vos mereçí, yfantes [de Carrión], en juego o en vero o en alguna razón, aquí lo mejoraré a juvizio de la cort This emendation raises the question of rhyme. Nobody disputes that the center of the rhyme is the last stressed vowel, which can be á, é, í, or ó ~ ú, but there 100 101 102 See vv. 2221, 2271, 2611, 2775, 2697, 3247, 3420, 3448, and 3557. This word (which occurs thirty times throughout the poem) never appears in a first hemistich, but only in the second and almost always at the end, except in vv. 2071 and 3072. The noun yfantes referring to them occurs 107 times in the PMC, and only 13 times without the modifier “de Carrión”, most often (9 times) in the first hemistich. Thus, the probability of finding yfantes followed by de Carrión in the second hemistich rises to 88 per cent. If we set the additional condition of being in a laisse whose rhyme is ó, the probability reaches 100 per cent. The Poema de mio Cid as Text 73 are differences about the relevance of the following vowel, if there is any. The assumption that post-tonic vowels are irrelevant103 presupposes that chance alone is responsible for the result. If the post-tonic vowel is irrelevant for the rhyme, its distribution basically will be random, even if the frequency with which a particular final vowel appears is conditioned by the presence (in our case, in Old Castilian) of certain final vowels that occur in the last syllable more frequently than others. However, the distribution of final vowels after a tonic vowel other than -ó- in the PMC manuscript is not normal, because there is 98.12 per cent of agreement with the laisse rhyme as opposed to 1.42 per cent of divergence in verses whose rhyme word only matches the tonic vowel. Even if isolated verses that do not match the tonic vowel and couplets are taken into account, the percentage of divergence is just 3 per cent.104 Therefore, if one takes a verse at random and knows the rhyme of the laisse, he has every chance of succeeding in predicting which assonance this verse will match, and one must conclude that the alternative hypothesis, i.e. that the final vowel is relevant, is true.105 Thus, the decisive factor in determining valid oppositions between different post-tonic vowels is their ability to differentiate successive laisses.106 This implies that, in principle, distinctive rhymes may not be mixed inside one laisse,107 since this would involve the existence of assonance patterns that are both distinctive 103 104 105 106 107 See Marcos Marín, ed., Cantar de Mio Cid, pp. 234, 236, 261, 305, and 424; Gómez-Bravo, “La naturaleza de las asonancias”; Rodríguez Molina, “In dubio pro codice”, and cf. his chapter in this volume. See Montaner, ed., Cantar de mio Cid (2007), pp. clxxx-clxxxi = (2011/16), pp. 390-91; and Funes, “Cuestiones de ecdótica”, p. 43. In his chapter in this volume, Bayo states that “There is variation in calculating the number of corrections needed to produce a reconstruction in laisses (according to Menéndez Pidal [Cantar de Mio Cid, vol. I, p. 86], they amounted to 6.5 per cent)”. Nevertheless, the data both Funes and I put forward is taken from the text of the extant codex, and is not based on a conjecture about how the text of the PMC should be. This difference in figures, therefore, is not relevant at all. In his chapter in this volume, Bayo argues against this argument stating that “at any rate statistics without structural analysis can be worthless or misleading”. This logic is faulty, since a working hypothesis must be supported in some measure by observed facts, so that the subsequent research may lead to a tenable theory which should reveal the underlying structure, even if the working hypothesis ultimately fails. Although I do not offer an a priori explanatory theory, I have developed a previous theoretical framework in which the available data makes sense (see the bibliography referred to in note 91). For that reason, it can be inductively deduced that the post-tonic vowel lacks distinctive capacity when the center of the rhyme is a stressed ó. This does not necessarily include the case in which the post-tonic vowel is irrelevant to distinguish laisses. For example, the word nadi (vv. 34 and 433) can occur as a rhyme word 74 Montaner and indistinct at the same time. This ambivalence would remove the very basis of the epic meter, since it only holds in changing assonance. For the same reasons, a textual deviation is to be presumed in any element that alters the homogeneity of laisse rhyme, i.e. isolated verses and perhaps also the couplets. The only possibility of accepting a deviation that threatens the basis of the PMC’s metrics would be to establish a sufficiently clear set of conditions that allows us to at least guess where a divergent verse may appear in the context of a given assonance, even disregarding their heterogeneous nature. This is what Bayo has attempted with his proposal of a “deictic dissonance”, which is defined as the contrast produced between the endings of two successive verses not connected by rhyme, signalling a narrative transition.108 The idea is, in itself, quite interesting; however, the proposal fails to determine any specific and predictable conditions of use, unlike what happens with the hexasyllabic isolated verse (verse orphelin or petit verse) typical of some French chansons de geste, which only appears at the end of a laisse.109 Therefore, the proposal leads to a set of ad hoc hypotheses. In my opinion, a clear counterexample is offered in vv. 542-49: Vanse Fenares arriba quanto pueden andar, troçen las Alcarrias e ivan adelant, por las cuevas d’Anquita ellos passando van. Passaron las aguas, entraron al campo de Torançio, por essas tierras ayuso quanto pueden andar. Entre Fariza e Çetina mio Çid yva albergar, grandes son las ganancias que priso por la tierra do va; non lo saben los moros el ardiment que an. 108 109 in the 4th laisse, whose assonance pattern is á-a, and the 22nd, whose assonance pattern is á-(e), since there is no laisse rhyming in á-i. It is a kind of wild rhyme, so to speak. See Bayo, “Poetic discourse”, and his chapter in this volume. Bayo is right in pointing out the possible function of couplets, since they by themselves do not undermine the rhyme system. This is a matter to be explored further. See Heinemann, L’art métrique, pp. 201-03. The analogy is fully relevant both on methodological and historical grounds. On the one hand, it shows that a poetical device has its inner logic and does not work at random (contrary to the supposed deictic dissonance). On the other hand, the stylistic constitution of the PMC is undeniably akin to that of the French epics (see Justel, Técnica y estética: el Cantar de mio Cid y la épica francesa). The Poema de mio Cid as Text 75 One wonders what function highlighting Torançio could have had in such an itinerary report, especially when the same place name occurs in a similar context in v. 1492, yet regularly matching the á-(e) assonance pattern: Passan las montañas, que son fieras e grandes, passaron Mata de Toranz de tal guisa que ningún miedo non han,110 por el val de Arbux[uel]o111 piensan a deprunar. E en Medina todo el recabdo está. (1491-94) There are many other verses in which a discontinuity with the laisse rhyme has not any discernible function (v.gr., 737, 1045, 1508-09, 1524, 1547, 1581, or 1766). Thus, the deictic dissonance fails to explain the presence of all 97 verses (from a total of 3730) that do not match the rhyme. It is, indeed, difficult to find a systemic explanation for a feature which is clearly not systematic. Instead, most of the verses that do not rhyme can be explained by the well-known textual phenomena of syntactical lectio facilior, contextual attraction, and cascading errors.112 Finally, I must stress that Bayo’s tightly woven argument on verse 708, “los que el debdo avedes veremos cómmo la acorredes”, does not provide a general demonstration of the effectiveness of deictic dissonance. Nevertheless, this raises another issue that Rodríguez Molina stresses in his chapter of this volume: the problem of the very rare verses that do not match assonance and seem to be justified by grammar. It is a very complex problem that I can scarcely outline here. In my view, given the fragmentary knowledge of Iberian Romance languages for the period between 1200 and 1250, our grammar is basically a diasystem reconstructed from partially known dialectal systems, when not ideolectical ones (consider, for example, the peculiar Fuero de Madrid). Our knowledge of grammar is thus, by definition, incomplete. However, the meter of a given poem has to be self-consistent by definition (that is, the poem abides by a meter or not), therefore, the description of the metrical system actually is complete in itself. This is what brings us to accept phenomena like 110 111 112 These two lines are merged in the manuscript as: “Paſſaron maꞇa ∂e toꝛãꝫ ∂e tal guıſa q͂ nıngũ mıe∂o nõ han”. The first verse resulting from the division seems to be hypometric (it has only nine syllables), yet there is no evident emendation. On this emendation, supported by the Alfonsine chronicles, see above. See Formisano, “Errori di assonanza”; Montaner, ed., Cantar de mio Cid, pp. 391-92; Funes, “Cuestiones de ecdótica”. 76 Montaner the monophonemic character of diphthong [we], because, despite what our perception of the language dictates, it is the only way to explain why in the PMC “aderredor” (v. 2699) and “fuent” (v. 2700) match the same rhyme. In terms of the relationship between grammar and relevance of the post-tonic vowel for assonance, there are two options: a) the contradiction is only apparent and is due to our incomplete knowledge of grammar, which does not gather and consider all cases, in particular, the exceptional ones; or b) the contradiction is real, but admissible metris causa, a known phenomenon in all poetic traditions. In both cases, the rarity of the phenomenon would easily explain the alteration of the rhyme of the PMC by lectio facilior. Of course, I am not advocating the introduction of ungrammatical emendations. In such cases one must apply the caveat expressed above about the difference between the theoretical and pragmatic levels of textual scholarship. After the meter and the rhyme, the third systemic feature with clear implications for the editing task are the formulas.113 It has already been noted that, on the one hand, the tendency of formulas occupying a certain hemistich is a valuable aid to determine the position of the caesura. On the other hand, the presence of formulaic allomorphs completing rhymes with the same tonic vowel but different final post-tonic vowels corroborates the analysis of the relevance of the final vowel in the assonance pattern. But the formulas also can be by themselves a source of textual deviation due to internal lectiones faciliores. To understand this, one must be aware that, from a paradigmatic point of view, formulas do not work as a set of different words, but as a single lexical item. Therefore, the substitution of formulas is basically the equivalent to that of single words. Conversely, the high level of redundancy that involves the use of formulas allows the editor to restore the text under certain conditions, as already seen in the case of v. 3258. Let us consider the Cid’s astrological epithet, which has several variants to fit the different contextual conditions related both to the rhyme and to its use in direct speech, as delineated in the following table: 113 About the formulaic system of the PMC, see the Introduction to this volume and, to a lesser extent, Bayo’s chapter. 77 The Poema de mio Cid as Text Formulaic stem Formulaic desinence Rhyme Narrative context Thematic focus (el) que en buen ora + nasco + nació + fue nado + fuestes nado + fuestes nacido + nasquiestes vós + nasquiestes de madre + cinxo espada + cinxiestes espada Ø / á-o ó á-o á-o í-o ó á-e á-a á-a Narration Birth Direct speech Narration Direct speech Knighting The unmarked variant of this epithet is “el que en buen ora nasco”, which is the only one that occurs in the first hemistich.114 When the formula occurs in the second, the stem adopts a desinence in accordance with rhyme and narrative context (the thematic focus being a direct result of the application of both conditions). However, since it is most probable that “(el) que en buen ora” will be followed by “nasco” (51 per cent), it is easy for the copyist to include that ending automatically. This can be verified by v. 899, “Qͥ ero uoſ ∂eƼır ∂el q͂ en buẽ oꝛa naſco𝔷çınxo eſpa∂a”. Here, it seems that the copyist thoughtlessly completed the formula with “naſco”. However, when he returned to his model, he noticed the ending çinxo espada, which he added without retouching the verse. Finally, he introduced the tironian et in the blank originally left between “naſco” and “çınxo” as a hypercorrection to fix the inconsistency of the resulting text.115 At this stage, let us return to the case of verse 16 “En ſu cõpaña .Lx. pen∂ones ⟨leuaua⟩ exıẽ louer mugıeres 𝔷 uarones” to check the various editorial decisions. As we have already seen, editors agree that this line of the manuscript needs to be emended. However, the verse makes perfect sense. Therefore, the only reason to divide the manuscript line into two verses is the admission that it is hypermetric.116 Such an assumption can only be based upon a characterization 114 115 116 As noted by Pellen, “Le modèle du vers épique espagnol” (1986), p. 10. This makes it very dubious that v. 719, “A grandes vozes lama el que en buen ora nasco”, in a laisse whose rhyme pattern is ó, offers a case of deictic dissonance and is not a substitution with a lectio facilior of “el que en buen ora [naçió]”. If the scribe’s addition is rejected, a reason for the division could be the internal rhyme. Nevertheless, leonine verses, which sometimes reveal the existence of a textual problem, are not alien to the internal system of the PMC. 78 Montaner of the epic metrics that specifies the admissible interval of syllables per hemistich. Moreover, only the need to accommodate the verse to the laisse rhyme in ó justifies the omission of leuaua,117 since the copyist’s interventions during his second recensio are, in many cases, preferable to his original text and are adopted by the same editors who reject it here.118 Hence, if these emendations are carried out, as all conservative editors do, there is no reason not to act similarly in other cases where the anomalies of the transmitted text are manifest. The conservative editorial position, as commonly practiced, reveals its incongruities in the case of the aforementioned vv. 3258-59. While they do not pose any semantic problem, several conservative editors have chosen to divide them into three lines but without adding the modifer “de Carrión”, except Lacarra.119 However, if one accepts the resulting line 3258, which does not match the rhyme, I do not see why it is necessary to emend the transmitted verse, which does not match it either. Enjambment could be argued, but this also would be questionable. In any case, it would have been enough to put the first hemistich of verse 3259 as the second hemistich of the previous verse. Instead, the adopted tripartite division is only consistent with a theory of the PMC metrics similar to the one outlined above. The issues analyzed so far correspond to systemic features subject to a quantitative approach that facilitates the detection of divergences and the proposal of emendations. However, where emendation becomes more necessary, that is, at the level of sense or semantic congruity, there are not always the kinds of tools that help in the case of meter, rhyme, or formulas. Therefore, it is necessary to resort to conjectures (emendatio ope ingenii), with the consequent risk of acting subjectively. To avoid that, it is necessary that the proposal is extremely well founded from a paleographic and philological point of view. In this area, one can never be too careful and, in principle, one must be always in favor of the transmitted text,120 exhausting all possibilities of interpretation before considering a passage to be damaged. However, one cannot look for convoluted interpretations to justify the transmitted text at all costs or simply ignore these kinds of problems. Thus, it is unacceptable to edit almofalla in v. 182 – 117 118 119 120 This addition is an undue attraction of “entraua”, also irregular, at the end of the previous verse; it is the phenomenon called rimaneggiamento di copertura by Formisano, “Errori di assonanza”. As a secondary criterion for emendation, lectio difficilior can be applied here, since the insertion of the verb destroys the rare absolute construction of the clause. For example, in the aforementioned v. 2341. In my opinion, the editorial interventions made in this case by Bayo and Michael reveal that deictic dissonance is basically a set of ad hoc hypotheses, and these cases are better explained as textual phenomena. Martin, ed., Chanson de Mon Cid, p. 274; Lacarra, ed., Poema de Mio Cid, p. 213; Bayo and Michael, eds., Cantar de Mio Cid, p. 312. In dubio pro codice, as states Rodríguez Molina in his homonym paper. The Poema de mio Cid as Text 79 keeping the reading offered by the sole codex and annotating its meaning as ‘carpet’ or ‘blanket’121 – since neither its etymology nor known sources suggest it ever had that meaning, when in reality it corresponds to almoçalla.122 As I noted above, the option to faithfully adhere to a textual witness is always valid. However, it is also legitimate to transcend the horizon of a witness to try to reach the broader meaning of the poetic work. All in all, this is precisely the objective of editing. This task requires a set of priorities regarding the virtuality of the text transmitted by the witnesses, as well as the choice of those features that best suit its internal consistency and the coherence with its context, in order to reach the reality of the work through the critical edition. Thus, faced with the choice of fidelity to a concrete witness, desirable and even indispensable in certain circumstances, the problem of the work’s readability and the impossibility of it being understood arises. Editing is not transcribing (a task that fulfills its own specific function), but mediating. Thus, the editor tries to understand the text of a work, in both the synchronic dimension (its internal constitution) as well as its diachronic one (its genesis and transmission), and based on this he tries to make it accessible to the reader through a concrete textual proposal, that is, the edition. Works Cited Aguilar Piñal, Francisco, “Cándido María Trigueros y el Poema del Cid”, Nueva Revista de Filología Hispánica 34 (1984), 224-33. Altschul, Nadia R., “L’espagnol castillan médiévale et la critique textuelle”, in David Trotter (ed.), Manuel de la philologie de l’édition, Berlin; Boston: De Gruyter, 2015, pp. 81-94. Armistead, Samuel G., “The Initial Verses of the Cantar de Mio Cid”, La Corónica 12.2 (Spring 1984), 178-86. Armistead, Samuel G., “From Epic to Chronicle: An Individualist Appraisal”, Romance Philology 40 (1987), 338-59. Armistead, Samuel G., “Cantares de gesta y crónicas alfonsíes: ‘Mas a grand ondra / tornaremos a Castiella’”, in Sebastian Neumeister (ed.), Actas del IX Congreso de la 121 122 So do Martin, ed., Chanson de Mon Cid, p. 68; and Lacarra, ed., Poema de Mio Cid, p. 69. This time Bayo and Michael accept the emendation (Cantar de Mio Cid, p. 71), that Michael had previously rejected (Poema de Mio Cid, p. 90). 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Prove di una nuova edizione”, Carte Romanze 2.1 (2014), 7-46. <http://riviste.unimi.it/index.php/carteromanze/article/ view/4246/4358>. De Hamel, Christopher, Scribes and Illuminators, London: British Museum, 1992. The Poema de mio Cid as Text 81 Derolez, Albert, The Paleography of Gothic Manuscript Books, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003 (3th repr. 2010). Duffell, Martin J., Syllable and Accent: Studies on Medieval Hispanic Metrics (Papers of the Medieval Hispanic Research Seminar, 56), London: Queen Mary, University of London, 2007. Dyer, Nancy Joe, El “Mio Cid” del taller alfonsí: versión en prosa en la “Primera crónica general” y en la “Crónica de veinte reyes”, Newark-Delaware: Juan de la Cuesta, 1995. Folsom, Rose, The Caligrapher’s Dictionary, introd. by Hermann Zapf, London: Thames and Hudson, 1990. Formisano, Luciano, “Errori di assonanza e pareados nel Cantar de Mio Cid (per una verifica testuale del neoindividualismo)”, Medioevo Romanzo 13 (1988), 91-114. Funes, Leonardo, “Cuestiones de ecdótica en torno al Mio Cid”, Olivar 10 (2007), 37-52. Galván, Luis, El Poema del Cid en España, 1779-1936: recepción, mediación, historia de la filología, Pamplona: Eunsa, 2001. Geijerstam, Regina af, “Un esbozo de la Grant Crónica de Espanya de Juan Fernández de Heredia”, Studia Neophilologica 32 (1960), 30-105. Gómez-Bravo, Ana M., “La naturaleza de las asonancias del Cantar de mio Cid. Notas sobre la -e paragógica”, Hispania 81 (1998), 501-08. Grahn, Hans, and Paul Geladi, eds., Techniques and Applications of Hyperspectral Image Analysis, Chichester, West Sussex: John Wiley & Sons, 2007. Greetham, D.C., Textual Scholarship: An Introduction, New York: Garland, 1994. Gončarenko, S.F., Stilističeskij analiz Ispanskogo stihotvornogo teksta [Stylistic Analysis of Spanish Versified Text], Moscow: Vysšaja Škola, 1988. Heinemann, Edward A., L’art métrique de la chanson de geste: essai sur la musicalité du récit, Geneva: Droz, 1993. Higashi, Alejandro, “Notas sobre la diuisio textus y la disposición esticomítica en el Poema de Mio Cid”, in M.ª J. Rodilla y A. Mejía (eds.), Memoria y literatura: homenaje a José Amezcua, México: Universidad Autónoma Metropolitana de México, 2005, pp. 67-85. Hook, David, “Verbal Economy and Structural Ecology in the Poema de mio Cid”, La Corónica 33.2 (Spring 2005), 97-109. Justel Vicente, Pablo, Técnica y estética: el “Cantar de mio Cid” y la épica francesa, Vigo: Academia del Hispanismo, 2017. Kennedy, Elspeth, “The Scribe as Editor”, in Mélanges de langue et de littérature du Moyen Âge offerts à Jean Frappier, Geneva: Droz, 1970, pp. 523-31. Kothari, C.R., Research Methodology: Methods and Techniques, 2nd ed., New Delhi: New Age International, 2004. Lacarra Lanz, Eukene, ed., Poema de Mio Cid, [Madrid]: Ollero y Ramos; Random House, 2002. Marcos Marín, Francisco, ed., Cantar de Mio Cid, Madrid: Biblioteca Nueva, 1997. 82 Montaner Martin, Georges, ed., Chanson de Mon Cid = Cantar de Mio Cid, Paris: Aubier, 1996. Menéndez Pidal, Ramón, “El Poema del Cid y las Crónicas Generales de España”, Revue Hispanique 16 (1898), 435-69. Menéndez Pidal, Ramón, ed., Cantar de Mio Cid. Texto, gramática y vocabulario, revised edition, 3 vols., Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1944-46. Menéndez Pidal, Ramón, Poesía juglaresca y juglares: orígenes de las literaturas románicas (1st ed. 1924, rev. ed. 1957), reissued with a prologue by Rafael Lapesa, Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1991. Menéndez Pidal, Ramón, ed., Primera crónica general de España que mandó componer Alfonso el Sabio y se continuaba bajo Sancho IV en 1289, 2nd edition, with the collaboration of Antonio G. Solalinde, Manuel Muñoz Cortés and José Gómez Pérez, 2 vols., Madrid: Seminario Menéndez Pidal and Gredos, 1955. Michael, Ian, ed., Poema de Mio Cid, Madrid: Castalia, 1976. Michael, Ian, “Per Abbat, ¿autor o copista? Enfoque de la cuestión”, in Homenaje a Alonso Zamora Vicente, 6 vols., Madrid: Castalia, 1988-96, vol. III.1 (1991), pp. 179-205. Millares Carlo, Agustín, Tratado de paleografía española, 3th edition, with the collaboration of J. M. Ruiz Asencio, 3 vols., Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1983. Montaner Frutos, Alberto, “Cave carmen! De huellas de asonancia a ‘prosa rimada’ en las prosificaciones épicas cronísticas”, in Aires A. Nascimiento y C. Almeida Ribero (eds.) Literatura medieval: actas do IV Congresso da Associação Hispânica de Literatura Medieval (Lisboa, 1-5 outubro 1991), 3 vols., Lisbon: Cosmos, 1993, vol. II, pp. 67-72. Montaner Frutos, Alberto, ed., Cantar de mio Cid (Biblioteca Clásica, 1), Barcelona: Crítica, 1993; revised editions: Barcelona: Galaxia Gutenberg, 2007, and Madrid: Real Academia Española, 2011; corrected reprint with bibliographical additions, 2016.123 Montaner Frutos, Alberto, “Emendatio, buena forma y entropía: reflexiones en torno a la edición de textos épicos medievales”, in María Isabel Toro Pascua (ed.), Actas del III Congreso de la Asociación Hispánica de Literatura Medieval (Salamanca, 3 al 6 de octubre de 1989), 2 vols., Salamanca: Biblioteca Española del Siglo XV; Departamento de Literatura Española e Hispanoamericana, 1994, vol. II, pp. 669-700. Montaner Frutos, Alberto, “Ecdótica, paleografía y tratamiento de imagen: el caso del Cantar de mio Cid”, Incipit 14 (1994), pp. 17-56. Montaner Frutos, Alberto, “De nuevo sobre los versos iniciales perdidos del Cantar de Mio Cid”, in Juan Paredes (ed.), Medioevo y literatura: actas del V Congreso de la Asociación Hispánica de Literatura Medieval (Granada, 27 de septiembre-1 de octubre de 1993), Granada: Universidad, 1995, vol. III, pp. 341-60. Montaner Frutos, Alberto, “Entre Procusto y Proteo o el arte de editar poemas épicos”, in David G. Pattison (ed.), Textos épicos castellanos: problemas de edición y crítica 123 When quoted without year specification, the pages are those of the 2011 edition and 2016 corrected reprint. The Poema de mio Cid as Text 83 (Papers of the Medieval Hispanic Research Seminar, 20), London: Queen Mary and Westfield College, 2000, pp. 14-21. 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Montaner Frutos, Alberto, “La fotografía hiperespectral y la restauración virtual de códices medievales: aplicación al manuscrito único del Cantar de mio Cid”, in Pedro M. Cátedra (ed.), Los códices literarios de la Edad Media: interpretación, historia, técnicas y catalogación, San Millán de la Cogolla: Instituto de Historia del Libro y de la Lectura, CiLengua, 2009, pp. 261-81. Montaner Frutos, Alberto and Fernando Montaner, “Letters on ‘Manuscript Culture in Medieval Spain’”, La Corónica 27.1 (Fall 1998), 162-82. Montiel, José Luis, Estudio comparativo de las prosificaciones del Cantar de Mio Cid en la historiografía de Alfonso X el Sabio (PhD Dissertation), Sevilla: Universidad de Sevilla, 2015. <https://idus.us.es/xmlui/handle/11441/38436>. Nichols, Stephen G., “Philology in a Manuscript Culture”, Speculum 65. 1 (January 1990), 1-10. Orduna, Germán, “El testimonio del códice de Vivar”, Incipit 9 (1989), 1-12. Orduna, Germán, “La edición crítica y el codex unicus: el texto del Poema de Mio Cid”, Incipit 17 (1997), 1-46. Paraíso, Isabel, La métrica española en su contexto románico, Madrid: Arco Libros, 2000. Panateri, Daniel, “Tradición manuscrita y proyecto político alfonsí: entropía y estabilización”, conference paper read at XIV Jornadas Internacionales de Estudios Medievales, Buenos Aires: Sociedad Argentina de Estudios Medievales, 2014. <https:// www.academia.edu / 8346328 / Tradici% C3%B3n_ manuscrita_y_proyecto_pol% C3% ADtico_ alfons%C3%AD_ entrop%C3%ADa_y_estabilizaci%C3%B3n>. Pellen, René, “Le modéle du vers épique espagnol, à partir de la formule cidienne [el que en buen hora…]”, Cahiers de Linguistique Hispanique Médiévale 10 (1985), 5-37, and 11 (1986), 5-132. 84 Montaner Pellen, René, “Le vers du Cid: prosodie et critique textuelle”, in Michel Garcia y Georges Martin (eds.), Actes du Colloque “Cantar de Mio Cid” (Paris, 20 janvier1994), Limoges: Presses Universitaires de Limoges, 1994, pp. 61-108. Quilis, Antonio, Métrica española, rev. ed., Barcelona: Ariel, 1984. Riaño Rodríguez, Timoteo, “Paleografía del manuscrito del Cantar de Mio Cid”, in Manuel Criado de Val (ed.), Los orígenes del español y los grandes textos medievales: Mio Cid, Buen Amor y Celestina, Madrid: CSIC, 2001, pp. 97-112. Riaño Rodríguez, Timoteo and María del Carmen Gutiérrez Aja, eds., Cantar de Mío Cid, 3 vols., Burgos: Diputación Provincial de Burgos, 1998. Rodríguez Molina, Javier, “In dubio pro codice: tiempos compuestos y enmiendas editoriales en el Poema de Mio Cid”, Boletín de la Real Academia Española 84 (2004), 131-71. Rodríguez-Velasco, Jesús D., “La urgente presencia de Las siete partidas”, La Corónica 38.2 (Spring 2010), 99-135. Rossell, Antoni, “La épica románica era cantada: reconsideraciones sobre el género épico a partir de su realidad oral musical (palimpsesto de una investigación)”, in A. Rubio Flores (ed.), Retórica medieval: ¿Continuidad o ruptura? Homenaje a Aurora Juárez Blanquer, Granada: Universidad de Granada, 1997, pp.1367-81. Rossell, Antoni, Poesia i Música a l’Edat Mitjana: la cançò èpica, Barcelona: Dínsic, 2004. Ruiz Asencio, José Manuel, “El códice del Poema de Mio Cid y su escritura”, in Poema de Mio Cid, Burgos: Ayuntamiento de Burgos, 2001, pp. 27-38. Sánchez, Tomás Antonio, ed., Colección de poesías castellanas anteriores al siglo XV, 3 vols., Madrid: Antonio de Sancha, 1779-82. Sánchez Mariana, Manuel, “La ejecución de los códices en Castilla en la segunda mitad del siglo XV”, in María Luisa López-Vidriero and Pedro M. Cátedra (eds.), El Libro Antiguo Español: actas del Primer Coloquio Internacional (Madrid, 18 al 20 de diciembre de 1986), Salamanca: Universidad de Salamanca and Sociedad Española de Historia del Libro; Madrid: Biblioteca Nacional de España, 1988, pp. 317-44. Sánchez Mariana, Manuel, “El libro en la Baja Edad Media: Reino de Castilla”, in Hipólito Escolar (ed.), Historia ilustrada del libro español: los manuscritos, Madrid: Fundación Germán Sánchez Ruipérez, Pirámide, 1993, pp. 165-221. Sánchez Prieto, Ana Belén, y Jesús Domínguez Aparicio, “Las escrituras góticas”, in Ángel Riesco Terrero (ed.), Introducción a la paleografía y a la diplomática general, Madrid: Síntesis, 2004, pp. 111-48. Segre, Cesare, Avviamento all’analisi del testo letterario, Torino: Einaudi, 1985. Smith, Colin C., ed., Poema de mio Cid, Madrid: Cátedra, 1976. Smith, Colin C., “The Diffusion of the Cid Cult: A Survey and a Little-Known Document”, Journal of Medieval History 6 (1980), 37-60. The Poema de mio Cid as Text 85 Smith, Colin C., “¿Se escribió en Cardeña el Poema de mio Cid?”, in Homenaje a Álvaro Galmés de Fuentes, 3 vols., Oviedo: Universidad de Oviedo; Madrid: Gredos, 1985-87, vol. II (1985), pp. 463-73. Smith, Colin C., “The First Prose Redaction of the Poema de mio Cid”, Modern Language Review 82 (1987), 869-86. Taylor, Andrew, “The Myth of the Minstrel Manuscript”, Speculum 66 (1991), 43-73. Torre, Esteban, El ritmo del verso: (estudios sobre el cómputo silábico y la distribución acentual, a la luz de la Métrica Comparada, en el verso español moderno), Murcia: Universidad de Murcia, 1999. Torre, Esteban, Métrica española comparada, Sevilla: Universidad de Sevilla, 2001. Torre, Esteban, “Sílabas y acentos: fundamentos fonéticos y fonológicos del ritmo”, Rhythmica, 1.1 (2003), pp. 273-301. Trovato, Paolo, Everything You Always Wanted to Know about Lachmann’s Method: A Non-Standard Handbook of Genealogical Textual Criticism in the Age of PostStructuralism, Cladistics, and Copy-Text, Padua: Libreria Universitaria.It, 2014. Zaderenko, Irene, “Per Abbat en Cardeña”, Revista de Literatura Medieval 20 (2008), 177-92. Zaderenko, Irene, “Per Abbat en Cardeña. Addenda”, Revista de Literatura Medieval 21 (2009), 245-48. 86 Montaner Figure 1.1 The complete alphabet employed by the scribe of the extant manuscript of the Poema de mio Cid. With kind permission of Alberto Montaner. The Poema de mio Cid as Text Figure 1.2 Recovering of the Poema de mio Cid, vv. 1121-24. With kind permission of Alberto Montaner. 87 88 Montaner Figure 1.3 Spectral curves for the various inks used by the hands involved in fol. 3v of the Poema de mio Cid codex. With kind permission of Alberto Montaner. The Question of Authorship 89 Chapter 2 The Question of Authorship* Irene Zaderenko Translated by Peter Mahoney Identifying the author of an anonymous medieval text is not just a simple task of choosing the most likely name among possible candidates. As evidenced in the Poema de mio Cid (PMC), the search for authorship has always been based on a complex series of theories regarding its genesis and how these speculations relate to the interpretation of the text: how did the poem come about; were there one or more authors; could he/they have been influenced by models of Latin literature or the French epic; could he/they have been just another poet in a long Spanish epic tradition that existed well before the 13th century. Despite the many studies that have been carried out since the poem was rediscovered at the end of the 16th century,1 the ongoing debate over the work’s possible author or authors is still far from a satisfactory conclusion. A necessary step toward a better understanding of the conflicting theories about the composition of the poem and the premises on which they were postulated is an analytical review of these contrasting hypotheses. Such an analysis must look closely at the arguments that have led scholars to specific conclusions, considering both their strengths and their shortcomings. At the beginning of the 17th century, Fray Prudencio de Sandoval, the first scholar who studied the PMC after its rediscovery, described the poem as made up of “versos bárbaros notables”.2 With these words, he initiated a characterization of the poem as a primitive, uncultured, and unpolished composition due to its irregular versification and rhymes, which added to the difficulty of reading the manuscript text.3 Yet at the same time, he also deemed the poem worthy of attention, recognizing its value as one of the first manifestations of the Castilian language. * This chapter is based on two of my studies, Problemas de autoría, de estructura y de fuentes en el Poema de mio Cid (1998) and El monasterio de Cardeña y el inicio de la épica cidiana (2013). 1 In January 1596, the genealogist Juan Ruiz de Ulibarri made a copy of the only extant manuscript of the PMC in Vivar, the Cid’s alleged birth place. It was noted at the time that some pages were missing, a condition that has remained unchanged four centuries later. 2 Sandoval, Primera parte de las fundaciones, p. 41. 3 About the reception of the poem from the 18th to the 20th century, see Luis Galván’s chapter in this volume. © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004363755_004 90 Zaderenko One of the first commentaries on the work and its author appeared in the mid-18th century in the Memorias para la historia de la poesía y poetas españoles by Father Martín Sarmiento, who placed the PMC within the genre of “poesía que tiene por asunto celebrar las hazañas de los antepasados”.4 According to Sarmiento, no other Castilian heroic figure had received as much attention as Rodrigo Díaz, either in writing or in oral tales. He cautioned, however, that the fabulous events incorporated into the romances about the Cid led some critics to erroneously interpret as fiction what were actually historical facts. In Father Sarmiento’s critical observations one finds the earliest attempt at constructing a theory that would explain the genesis of the PMC. Since he believed that it was historically impossible for such a long poem to have been written in a Romance language at the end of the 11th century or the beginning of the 12th, he hypothesized that soon after the Cid’s exploits, when his deeds were still fresh in the memory of his contemporaries, primitive and unknown juglares (minstrels, jongleurs) composed oral songs celebrating the Castilian hero. These songs were transmitted through oral recitation, and although subject to all sorts of modification and amplification with every recital, each new composition preserved certain stylistic archaisms from previous narrations. Some of these songs were later written down by other juglares who, by that time, had become literate poets, having joined the ranks of clerics like Gonzalo de Berceo.5 Sarmiento’s account positing singers of tales at the beginning of a national literary tradition would become a crucial tenet among romantic literary historians a century later. Though much has been written about their role in medieval epics’ transmission during the last two hundred years, we still hardly know anything about such juglares, besides being mentioned in chronicles of the time, legal documents, and in some later writings.6 The study of the poem advanced significantly thanks to its first printed edition in 1779. It was edited by Tomás Antonio Sánchez and included in the anthology entitled Poetas castellanos anteriores al siglo XV. Sánchez began his introduction by referring to the text as “[e]ste poema histórico”.7 Such an emphatic affirmation of the poem’s historicity was related to matters of date, style, and authorship, which Sánchez went on to analyze in some detail. 4 Sarmiento, Memorias para la historia de la poesía, p. 238 (the manuscript is dated 1745). 5 Sarmiento, Memorias para la historia de la poesía, pp. 242-43. 6 Ramón Menéndez Pidal acknowledged this when he wrote about “juglares épicos” (Poesía juglaresca, pp. 240, 243; I quote him later in this chapter). 7 Sánchez, Poetas castellanos, p. XV. The Question of Authorship 91 Regarding Per Abbat, the name that appears in the colophon of the manuscript, Sánchez believed that it belonged to a Benedictine abbot, unless “Abbat” was his last name. More significantly, in view of future critical evaluations, he considered the Per Abbat of the subscription not the author, but rather the copyist of the work, since in those days “escribir” typically meant “to copy”, while “fer” or “facer” meant “to compose”.8 Moreover, Sánchez was the first to observe that the space within the colophon’s date where it is mentioned that the manuscript was copied “En era de mill ꞇ.C.C. xL.v.años”9 (v. 3732) was most probably caused by the erasure of a letter. His explanation was that there might have been another “C” between the centuries and decades which had been erased, perhaps, in an attempt to pass the codex off as being much older, and therefore more valuable. However, Sánchez neither questioned the antiquity of the manuscript nor the age of the poem, whose linguistic aspects indicated that it was older than Gonzalo de Berceo’s poetry (first half of the 13th century). Sánchez’s critical observations about the PMC responded to the aesthetic and literary criteria of the time that were based on the concept of a progressive evolution of history. According to these beliefs, the poem’s irregular versification, its lack of rhetorical devices, and the absence of erudite allusions in the text were clear indicators of its primitive form. For these same reasons, Sánchez judged the poem older yet inferior to Berceo’s poetic production in cuaderna vía, an early metric system based on rhyme and syllabic uniformity. But despite lacking literary sophistication, its great antiquity was for Sánchez an unquestionable proof of its fidelity to historical facts. With respect to the problem of authorship, it should be noted that he was the first to attribute to Per Abbat the function of copyist and not that of author. Although Rafael Floranes, another learned literary historian of the time, almost immediately questioned Sanchez’s conclusions, Sánchez’s judgment was widely accepted. Shortly after the publication of Sánchez’s edition, Rafael Floranes wrote several comments in the margins of the first volume of Poetas castellanos anteriores al siglo XV that he owned. At Sánchez’s request, Floranes’ notes were further elaborated and circulated among the intellectuals of the time. More than a century later, Marcelino Menéndez Pelayo published Floranes’ comments and 8 Sánchez, Poetas castellanos, p. XV. The verb “escribir” is used in the colophon: “Quien escrivió este libro del Dios parayso amén/ Per Abbat le escrivió en el mes de mayo/ En era de mill ꞇ.C.C. xL.v. años” (vv. 3731-33). 9 The year 1245 of the Spanish Era equates to 1207 ad (38 years are subtracted from the Spanish Era). 92 Zaderenko Sánchez’s response,10 making available to the general public the exceptional erudition of these early historians of Spanish literature. Floranes rejected the date that Sánchez had proposed for the composition of the poem (mid-12th century). According to his historical and philological analysis, the work could not have been composed before 1245,11 and the Per Abbat of the colophon was not the copyist but the author of the text. He also rejected the possibility that the author was a Benedictine monk given that his name did not carry the typical “don”, the title with which abbots often signed their names. He relied on internal evidence to prove that the poem had been composed at a much later date, well into the 13th century and, more specifically, sometime after 1221. Based on the verse “Oy los reyes d’España sos parientes son” (v. 3724), he argued that in order for the Spanish kings to be the Cid’s blood relatives – as a result of his daughters’ marriage – the first instance would be the year 1221, that is to say, the year in which the Infanta Leonor of Castile, the daughter of King Alfonso VIII and a descendant of the Cid, married King Jaime of Aragon. Floranes’ glosses, which were an elaborate reply to Sánchez’s hypotheses, left some issues unresolved. If the poem had been composed a century and a half after the Castilian hero’s death, it was necessary to determine where the author had obtained the information required to write a work based on accurate historical events. Sánchez responded to this question arguing that the poem was composed soon after the Cid’s death, when contemporaries of Rodrigo Díaz still had fresh in their minds the heroic deeds he had accomplished. Floranes’ explanation took into account his understanding of the origins of Castilian poetry and its early transmission. According to him, it would not have been difficult to reconcile the temporal distance between the moment in which a poem was composed and the historical events it set out to narrate, since generations of juglares kept the most memorable exploits of the past alive in the collective memory. With respect to the juglares and their socio-cultural functions, Floranes’ view was that they participated in celebrations by reciting poems that were composed for the occasion. His concept of juglar also seems to include learned poets who wrote in Latin, like the author of the Poema de Almería, who continued a poetic tradition that originated prior to the 13th century. Despite the unorganized and fragmentary way in which Floranes presented his ideas, in his critical observations we find hypotheses about several aspects 10 11 Menéndez Pelayo, “Dos opúsculos inéditos”. Floranes speculated that there was much confusion in the use of the Spanish and Christian Era at the time that the manuscript was copied. The Question of Authorship 93 of the poem that continue to provoke serious discussions among scholars today. He was first to assign a later date to the PMC and to advance the idea of a learned secular author, namely, Per Abbat, whose last name should not be understood as an ecclesiastical title. The fidelity of the PMC to historical facts, an idea firmly established at the end of the 18th century, began to be questioned by the mid-19th century. In History of Spanish Literature, an American Hispanist, George Ticknor, wrote that the episodes about the siege of Alcocer and the Cortes in Toledo, as well as the inclusion of the Infantes of Carrión, were fictitious creations, products of the author’s poetic license.12 Years later, Andrés Bello used the poem’s fictional material to date its composition. In the prologue to his edition of the PMC, Bello asserted that the presence of poetic inventions and historical errors revealed a lapse of at least a century between the Cid’s life and the composition of the poem.13 In effect, he called attention to the fact that the marriage of the Cid’s daughters to the Infantes of Carrión, as well as the episodes that follow the unfortunate weddings – that is to say, the narrative plot that makes up the third cantar – had no historical basis. More important still was his pointing out the author’s unawareness that Jimena belonged to the upper nobility and his total ignorance of the real names of Rodrigo’s daughters. Bello elaborated a particular explanation regarding the origin of the PMC, which he considered to be the earliest poem ever written in Castilian that has come down to us. He theorized that around 1150 there was already an epic song or story about the Cid’s deeds in many ways similar in style to the extant text. This early version – written with a historical purpose in mind but meant to be sung – probably did not deviate much from the truth, given its temporal proximity to the heroic feats it narrated. With the passing of time, the poem underwent continuous modifications and interpolations, the usual changes that happened to unrecorded popular tales and songs of ordinary people. Each generation of juglares would retell the story in its own way, recasting the poem in different forms according to the narrator’s ability and the taste and expectations of his public. Toward the middle of the 19th century, a distinguished historian of medieval Spanish literature, José Amador de los Ríos, began to engage in a long debate with critics who had raised doubts about the historicity of the PMC.14 In his opinion, the literary representation of the Cid, which had been shaped and 12 13 14 Ticknor, History of Spanish Literature, p. 15. Bello, Poema del Cid, p. 15. Amador de los Ríos, Historia crítica, pp. 119-20, n. 1. 94 Zaderenko ennobled by the imagination of the people, could not be attributed to the sole creation of an accomplished poet; it originated, rather, in the beliefs and cultural values of an emerging national state. At a time when Castile was in the midst of a persistent struggle against Islam, the Cid was made to embody the unswerving religious faith and the territorial attachment to king and homeland that characterized Castilian society at that particular moment. Yet despite this manifestation of romantic patriotism, Amador de los Ríos excluded any possibility that the PMC was the creation of the people. When it came to narrating the complicated exploits of the hero, the skill of a poet was necessary. At that moment, the poet appeared to embellish the story and eliminate the many inconsistencies infiltrated into the narrative through a long oral tradition. The uniqueness of the poem in the refined artistic form that has survived was not the product of many poets or juglares, but the masterful product of a talented man whose composition should not be confused with the existing popular songs with epic tones that circulated among the people.15 According to Amador de los Ríos, the poem does not give an accurate representation of the Cid as a historical figure. It offers, instead, a faithful rendition of Castilian society as it existed at the end of the 11th century. A decade later, Manuel Milá y Fontanals published the first work dedicated entirely to the study of Castilian epic poetry. He began his prologue by declaring, “la poesía llamada popular no fue en su origen patrimonio exclusivo de las clases más humildes”, and went on to review the different theories about the origins of epic poetry that had been formulated until that time. He recognized a degree of French influence in this genre and emphasized that the Chanson de Roland had a significant influence on the Spanish epic.16 With respect to the PMC, Milá noted that despite its irregular and unpolished language, its imperfect versification, and its lack of artistic devices, the poem could still be described as a masterpiece, a precious legacy from a heroic time rich in poetic themes and yet far, in many ways, from the ideals of a Christian society.17 A major subject of the poem – the episodes related to the Infantes of Carrión – was, in his opinion, fictitious, together with other aspects that were not supported by historical documentation. Nonetheless, he found that characters, places, and a good number of details had a historical foundation, leading him to conclude that the author was well informed on local 15 16 17 Amador de los Ríos, Historia crítica, p. 124. Milá y Fontanals, De la poesía, pp. 137-38. Milá y Fontanals, De la poesía, p. 241. The Question of Authorship 95 traditions. As to the date of the poem, he relied on its language which suggested that it had been written in the mid-12th century.18 A few years later, Menéndez Pelayo assigned a later date to the poem. He assumed that it was composed in the second half of the 12th century, arguing that more than a half-century must have passed in order for the story to be transformed into poetry, “modificándose las circunstancias de hechos muy capitales, introduciéndose otros enteramente fabulosos, y depurándose el carácter del héroe hasta un grado de idealidad moral rarísimo en la poesía heroica”.19 He was also convinced that even though the PMC was not entirely historical, its fictitious aspects were not a determining factor for making it anti-historical, since the profound moral truth of the work offset any fictional transgressions committed by the author. He explained the non-historical episodes as resulting from the people’s inability to discern history from legend, an inextricable blend that had already taken hold of the poet’s mind as well as that of his contemporaries. Many historical details that the poem preserved, such as the Cid’s raids in Alcocer, or the episode of the Jewish moneylenders – which had, in his opinion, all the characteristics of a true story – could not be disregarded simply because they were not mentioned in the Historia Roderici20 or in other documents of the time. In addition to a wealth of historical elements that are present in the poem, he also called attention to the significance of the geographic accuracy and the verisimilitude of the story, which should also be taken into account in dealing with historical realism. Though recognizing that the marriage of the Cid’s daughters to the Infantes of Carrión was completely legendary, he did remind other critics that the poem as a whole, all things considered, was made up of far more historical elements than fictitious ones.21 Regarding the style of the poem, he was not concerned with the coarseness of the linguistic and metrical forms, since its aesthetic beauty derived precisely from being the kind of meaningful poetry that was lived and not sung.22 It was for this reason that the author remained anonymous in this type of poetry, which, in order to be fully appreciated, does not require the historical figure of the poet or juglar. 18 19 20 21 22 Milá y Fontanals, De la poesía, pp. 247-48. Menéndez Pelayo, Tratado de los romances viejos, p. 271. The Historia Roderici, a well-documented biography of Rodrigo Díaz written in Latin, was composed towards the end of the 12th century. The anonymous author must have been a cleric given his knowledge of Latin. About its date and author, see Zaderenko, “El procedimiento judicial de riepto”. Menéndez Pelayo, Tratado de los romances viejos, pp. 271-72. Menéndez Pelayo, Tratado de los romances viejos, p. 274. 96 Zaderenko Menéndez Pelayo developed in extenso his ideas about the origins of the epic in the first part of his Antología de poetas líricos castellanos. In accordance with Giambattista Vico (1668-1744) and later romantic historians who espoused an idealistic explanation of national literary evolution, he was convinced that in the history of Castilian literature, lyrical forms appeared after a period in which epic songs were the dominant mode of literary expression. In his opinion, the epic – characterized by its impersonal and objective nature – was the artistic form that prevailed in periods of spontaneous creation among spirits that were more open to the greatness of action than to the refinements of feeling and thought. This heroic ethos, associated with the infancy of national culture, prevented the individual inner voice from being heard.23 The art he perceived in the PMC did not lie in specific formal aspects of the work, but rather, it belonged to a more sublime category, that of the artistic form that ignores itself and, drawing on the divine unconsciousness of natural forces, gives us a complete view of reality. Menéndez Pelayo emphasized that in Spain the epic was exclusively Castilian. With the sole exception of the legend of Bernardo del Carpio, all the heroes of this literary genre – Fernán González and the counts that succeeded him, the Infantes of Lara, and the Cid – were from the regions of Burgos or La Bureba. For the most part, they represented the independent spirit of the small county that eventually annexed the kingdom of León and spearheaded the Reconquista. Menéndez Pelayo attributed the origin of the Spanish epic to the long-standing political conflicts between Castile and León: “Creemos firmemente que la epopeya castellana nació al calor de la antigua rivalidad entre León y Castilla (rivalidad que ocultaba otra más profunda, la del elemento gallego y el elemento castellano), y que éste es su sentido histórico primordial”.24 According to Menéndez Pelayo, the influence of the French epic on Castilian poems was unquestionable, since France was the center of European literary life in the Middle Ages: “ni siquiera en el tan maltratado siglo XVIII vivimos tanto de imitación y de reflejo como en aquellos otros tiempos que, por ser tan remotos, se nos presentan con un falso aspecto de primitivos y espontáneos”.25 Nevertheless, he admitted French heroic poetry’s influence on Castilian epic only in occasional cases. Given that French culture enjoyed a favorable reception in the court of Alfonso VI, it would seem natural that the chansons de geste would somehow condition Castilian epic poetry to express congenial sentiments toward the court or the Church. In its Castilian development, however, 23 24 25 Menéndez Pelayo, Antología de poetas líricos castellanos, p. 121. Menéndez Pelayo, Antología de poetas líricos castellanos, p. 129. Menéndez Pelayo, Antología de poetas líricos castellanos, p. 130. The Question of Authorship 97 epic poems seem to have preferred glorifying rebels like Fernán González or vassals who were banished from Christendom like Bernardo del Carpio and the Cid. The guiding motives of these poems could not have been more different than those underlying the French epic.26 At the beginning of the 20th century, Romantic theories about the popular origins of epic poetry began to be seriously questioned. The major challenge to the existing interpretations came between 1908 and 1914, when the four volumes of Joseph Bédier’s Les légendes épiques were published. In his comprehensive analysis, he approached the French poems as literary texts – that is to say, as intellectual works produced by the conscious efforts of a well-informed, educated poet who found inspiration in 11th- and 12th-century life, in the spirit of pilgrimages and crusades, as well as in the artistic monuments that preserved memories of the Carolingian age. In response to Bédier’s individualist theory, which was gaining recognition among the philologists of the time, Ramón Menéndez Pidal published a study in 1924 in which he offered a defense of epic poetry composed by anonymous juglares in Spain.27 Years later, in the prologue to the 1957 edition, he reiterated the necessity to find rational bases that would clarify the vagueness and confusion that surrounded valid Romantic ideas. His aim was to explain how people of a specific society, such as medieval Castilians, could have collaborated in the making of an epic work without the intervention of supernatural or unconscious forces. For him, an epic poem was not the sudden result of some poet’s natural inspiration, but rather the slow outcome of a collective poetic tradition whose style had been slowly elaborated over the course of many years. It was, in short, the joint product of many acts of will, resulting from an active participation of various poets and their public. Menéndez Pidal’s alternative notion to Bédier’s individualism was based on his deep conviction that epic poems had not been written by learned authors in a given historical moment or place. They were, instead, the logical outcome of a traditional oral poetry that at one point happened to have been written down. Composed by juglares, they were meant to be shared by the entire population; their memorized themes were retold and constantly reworked as they passed from one generation to the next over the course of many centuries. Learned men of the time relegated this type of oral poetry – because of its ephemeral performance – to the latent popular state which rarely surfaced in the higher level of the written culture. These views, reiterated by Menéndez 26 27 Menéndez Pelayo seems to be thinking about the Chanson de Roland, since later French poems also glorified rebels and banished vassals. Menéndez Pidal, Poesía juglaresca. 98 Zaderenko Pidal over many decades, are at the heart of the neotraditionalist theory of epic poetry, a critical approach that is still followed by many scholars today. It is curious to note that despite his lifelong conviction of the theoretical premises on which he based his vast scholarship, at the beginning of the chapter in which he deals with epic poetry composed by juglares he did confess the elusive presence of the singer of epic tales: De los juglares épicos […] no conservamos ni un solo nombre propio, ni una sola anécdota que nos revele una fisonomía o nos ayude a comprender una obra; siempre esos juglares serán para nosotros figuras anónimas, de cuya vida y carácter apenas nada llegaremos a conocer a través de sus obras de tono objetivo e impersonal; siempre quedarán para nuestra curiosidad como un grupo borroso de sombras quietas y taciturnas.28 Menéndez Pidal explored how the most memorable epic poems composed by juglares were often included in chronicles without the slightest reference to their authors. He attributed the chroniclers’ silence about the author’s name to the juglar’s working habits and attitudes. The reason a name is never mentioned is because the paternity of an epic poem is impossible to define; it is always a reworking of a much older poem that other juglares similarly inherited and modified.29 This is why, according to Menéndez Pidal, one cannot speak of juglares as individual authors of epic poetry, but of poetic works recited by juglares belonging to a clearly traditional style that were perhaps composed by learned men: A los autores de éstas [poesías narrativas] llamaremos juglares, sin tener seguridad de que lo fuesen, es decir, sin saber si hacían de la recitación de los poemas un oficio o modo de vivir, o si eran hombres de otra posición social, que escribían para abastecer la recitación pública de los que a ese oficio se dedicaban.30 Regarding the PMC, Menéndez Pidal maintained throughout most of his life that one author had composed the poem soon after Rodrigo Díaz’s death. This apparent individualistic allusion made it difficult to reconcile the poet’s role with the collective authorship he assigned to the tradition of Castilian epic 28 29 30 Menéndez Pidal, Poesía juglaresca, p. 240. As proof, Menéndez Pidal provided many examples from the Estoria de España in which epic legends are cited in an impersonal way by using verbs in the plural form. Menéndez Pidal, Poesía juglaresca, p. 243. The Question of Authorship 99 poetry. Similarly, in his study and edition of the poem, he mentions that the text was copied a few times but that none of these copies showed the slightest attempt at a poetic reworking.31 When it came to the episodes that are not supported by historical evidence – such as the marriage of the Cid’s daughters to the Infantes of Carrión, their violent repudiation at Corpes, or Rodrigo Díaz’s revenge – he justified their insertion into the poem as having originated from local traditions of San Esteban de Gormaz that were familiar to the author. Those were events that only had a local resonance, without any real importance in the Cid’s life given that there were not weddings, just betrothals to the Infantes of Carrión. The local interest they held would explain why there was no historic memory of the betrothals or of the Infantes of Carrión.32 Despite the doubts about the veracity of these episodes, Menéndez Pidal considered the overall historical nature of the poem unquestionable. In one of his final studies, En torno al “Poema del Cid”, Menéndez Pidal attempted to redefine the historicity of Castilian epic poetry in response to some of the objections that had been made to his earlier works. In the chapter dedicated to “La épica medieval en España y en Francia”, he highlighted the differences between the Spanish “verista” school, which pursued in its literary creations a combination of history and poetry, and the “verosimilista” school deriving from Italian Renaissance poetics, whose precepts tended to exclude history from poetry. After examining the PMC under the lens of these diverging theoretical concepts, he put forward a new hypothesis that proposed the existence of two authors – one from San Esteban de Gormaz and the other from Medinaceli – as a way to resolve the apparent disparity between fiction and history in the poem. The first author (c.1110) from San Esteban de Gormaz wrote his poem soon after the hero’s death, and to him we owe both the original idea of the work and the accurate topographical references of the region surrounding San Esteban. He was likely inspired by the historical weddings of the Cid’s daughters, which took place in the final years of the hero’s life. Such an upward move in the family’s social position contrasted with the frustrated betrothals to the Infantes of Carrión, which were well remembered in San Esteban, since Corpes, the oak grove where the Infantes abandoned the Cid’s daughters, was relatively close to the town. These moving events were probably disseminated in news-bearing songs that the first author used in his plot development. Around 1140, a second author from Medinaceli reworked the poem, which by that time had substantially deviated from the historical events previously narrated. It was through these likely additions, omissions, and 31 32 Menéndez Pidal, Cantar de mio Cid, vol. 1, p. 33. Menéndez Pidal, Cantar de mio Cid, vol. 1, pp. 71-72. 100 Zaderenko novelistic modifications affecting the original narration of actual facts that both history and fiction contributed to the composition of the poem, which in spite of these changes was still grounded in history.33 Although Menendez Pidal’s studies kept alive the discussion about the PMC’s adherence to history and the Cid’s representation as a faithful portrayal of the historical figure, the neotraditionalist principles and methods proved to be inadequate when it came to resolving the many issues the poem presents. Questions about the author (or authors), the degree of his erudition or schooling, as well as the sources that were used continue to generate heated debates. Since the mid-20th century, many of Menéndez Pidal’s views have been increasingly challenged and subjected to serious scrutiny.34 Critics have questioned the premises on which he argued the genesis and evolution of Castilian epic poems: the origin of epic poetry in news-bearing songs contemporary to or composed soon after a historic event; their early date of composition, in many cases earlier than the French chansons de geste; the historicity of the Castilian poems, in contrast to the fictitious nature of the French epic; the realistic tendency and the geographical accuracy of Spanish poems; the independence of Spanish epic tradition from both the French epic and Latin ecclesiastical culture; and the constant rewriting of epic poems in different versions, traces of which he found in chronicles and ballads of the time. As Alan Deyermond, among other scholars, has argued, Menendez Pidal’s theories about the genesis of the PMC, which until recently were accepted almost unanimously by literary historians, are no longer sustainable. Based on the cumulative results of recent findings, Deyermond has pointed out that the PMC “fue compuesto hacia fines del siglo XII, tal vez a comienzos del XIII, por un único autor, un poeta culto, que muy bien pudo ser clérigo y ciertamente versado en cuestiones notariales y jurídicas”.35 As for epic poems rewritten in prose in contemporary or later chronicles, he noted that these narratives are frequently related to tomb cults, although it is difficult to determine whether the cult inspired the legend or vice-versa. Of the extant texts, the Poema de Fernán González is, without a doubt, monastic propaganda;36 the PMC is the work of a learned poet, even though it is more difficult, in his opinion, to prove its ecclesiastical inspiration; and the Mocedades de Rodrigo, whose secular 33 34 35 36 Menéndez Pidal, En torno, pp. 153-54. Nevertheless, his ideas about juglares as authors of epic poems have been embraced by oralists such as Joseph Duggan (The “Cantar de Mio Cid”, pp. 124-42). Deyermond, Historia, p. 91. On the use of epic poems as propaganda, see Montaner’s caveats in “Épica, historicidad, historificación”. The Question of Authorship 101 character and popular nature was defended time and time again by the neotraditionalist school, is actually the work of an educated author whose objective was to serve the immediate interests of the dioceses of Palencia.37 Similarly, research carried out in the last several decades by Peter Russell, Colin Smith, Ian Michael, María Eugenia Lacarra (Eukene Lacarra Lanz), and Alberto Montaner, among others, points to an author of the PMC who most likely had legal knowledge, was cognizant of French epic poems – especially the Chanson de Roland –, made use of the Historia Roderici as a source of historical information for the Cid’s campaign in the Eastern region of the Iberian Peninsula, and employed learned words and Latinisms from legal and ecclesiastical Latin writings, not just from the Bible, but also from liturgical texts. This author probably knew the “Carta de arras” that Rodrigo granted to Jimena, the only historical document that mentions the Cid’s relationship with Álvar Fáñez,38 was familiar with the Monastery of San Pedro de Cardeña and the Benedictine Rule observed by its monks, and had a precise understanding of how a medieval abbey was run. In view of these intellectual attributes ascribed to the author, the question that comes to mind is who might have possessed such an extensive knowledge and how did he acquire it at the end of the 12th or the beginning of the 13th century. The hypotheses of a learned author, or of a poet who was an expert in law, do not satisfactorily respond to this question, and leave many problems unresolved. As I mentioned before, a number of studies have independently substantiated the author’s use of Latin sources, his legal knowledge, and his use of words and expressions adapted from Church Latin and the language of the law.39 At the end of the 12th century, anyone exhibiting such a relatively vast knowledge could only be associated with a religious institution, either in training or by profession. The author most likely belonged to the clergy, but what sort of clergyman was he? Where was he from? In my opinion, the question can be answered if one takes into account the important role that the poet assigns to the Monastery of Cardeña – the place where Rodrigo Díaz and his wife were buried and where a true cult of the Cid was forged. To be sure, some scholars who have studied Spanish epic poetry have rejected the possibility that the 37 38 39 Deyermond, Historia, p. 98. Although Deyermond gives greater nuance to these opinions in his later studies, he did not substantially change his views. About the author’s possible familiarity with the “Carta de arras”, see Zaderenko, “¿El autor del Poema de mio Cid conocía la ‘Carta de arras’?”. For more details about his knowledge, see the Introduction to this volume, especially section 4, “The Poet’s Sources”; section 7, “Legal Aspects”; and section 13, “Other Stylistic Features”. 102 Zaderenko poem was composed in Cardeña.40 Nevertheless, they have not offered any feasible alternative, while the hypothesis of the poem’s monastic origin continues to gain credibility as new information comes to light regarding the history of Cardeña and its special relationship with the Cid and the members of the Abbat family. The idea that medieval epic poetry was composed in a religious milieu – like churches or monasteries – has illustrious precedents in the field of French literature. Joseph Bédier’s seminal work, Les légendes épiques, rich in information about ecclesiastical legends, as well as ensuing investigations into French and Italian monastic cults related to epic heroes have revealed an important connection between clerical culture and the heroic traditions that are found in epic poems. Bédier’s explanation of this special linkage was that medieval poets found both the inspiration and the necessary written material for composing their works in religious houses. In fact, the scriptoria of religious establishments, where the tombs of heroic personages were located, offered the material means (parchment, ink, time) for writing literary works as well as written records and other historical sources. The French philologist rejected the supposed historicity of the epic texts, arguing that poets relied more on poetic motifs than on historical facts, even though historical sources were not entirely excluded from their work. In the epic poems he studied, Bédier identified a good deal of information relating to churches that preserved and disseminated many of these legends. These also happened to be places where relics were kept and tombs of important historic and fictitious characters were found. Bédier arrived at the conclusion that those legends which had given rise to epic poems originated in churches visited by pilgrims who admired the tombs of famous figures; this attraction, in turn, was exploited by local churchmen for the purpose of obtaining donations, endowments, and all sorts of privileges that benefited their institutions. In Bédier’s succinct proclamation, in questions of epic poetry and its early origins and development, “Au commencement était la route, jalonnée de sanctuaires”.41 More recent studies supporting the clerical origin of epic poetry have been published. Andrew Taylor’s examination of the Oxford manuscript of the Chanson de Roland, Digby 23, confirms that the codex never left a monastic environment.42 In fact, the manuscript of the Chanson de Roland, bound together with Plato’s Timaeus, offers clues about how it may have been read in the Middle Ages: “It suggests that the Oxford Roland was never far from clerical 40 41 42 Among them, Menéndez Pidal and Colin Smith. Bédier, La Chanson de Roland, p. 30. Taylor, “Was There”; Textual Situations, pp. 26-75. The Question of Authorship 103 hands, and that it may have had something of the status of a saint’s life, serving as an inspirational moral poem to read aloud, or possibly even to chant, to the canons and their guests at the refectory”.43 As far as the role of juglares as authors of epic poems is concerned, his exhaustive analysis of the extant documentation in which these minstrels appear reveals that the chansons de geste were essentially clerical creations. According to Taylor, “the extended versions of the chansons de geste, the ones that come down to us, were essentially clerical creations, […] they were not just copied, but compiled and delivered by clerics, since only if it took the form of a written text would a poem have the prestige or authority to command a listener’s attention for four thousand lines”.44 Information about the juglares’ performance is scarce, but based on what is known, “minstrel recitation was common, both at chivalric feasts and in the marketplace, but that, at least on most occasions, it was short and subject to extreme duress. Under these conditions, the sustained recitation necessary to give a 4000-line poem voice as song would scarcely have been possible”.45 Taylor concludes: “[t]his poem, the one that survives in the Oxford manuscript, might better be termed the legend of Roland, a bellicose Christian poem, suitable for reading aloud in the refectory or the hall”.46 A similar conclusion has been reached by Keith Busby in his extensive study on verse narratives composed in Old French: both the nature of the extant texts and the physical appearance of the manuscripts unequivocally point to monasteries and religious centers as their place of origin.47 Actually, they were the only locations where the necessary knowledge, writing facilities, and desire to commit texts to the page could be found. The vast majority of French texts dating from these early centuries were produced in monasteries or in some other clerical setting. The fact that secular texts were elaborated in such places is quite understandable, since learned members of religious orders considered themselves guardians of history. This also explains their remarkable production of vernacular and Latin chronicles. Taylor’s and Busby’s studies show that epic poems, like historical writings, were considered morally edifying works. Therefore, there was no more appropriate place than a monastery for elaborating secular narrations in the vernacular to reach a wider audience. While it is true that some clergymen criticized secular literature – considering it harmful to one’s salvation –, there 43 44 45 46 47 Taylor, “Was There”, pp. 51-52. Taylor, “Was There”, p. 63. Taylor, “Was There”, p. 65. Taylor, “Was There”, p. 65 Busby, Codex and Context, vol. 1, 8-9; vol. 2, 736-53. 104 Zaderenko were also many learned clerics residing in religious houses who enjoyed, whether secretly or in the open, this kind of literature. As centers of teaching and learning, monasteries were the ideal places to preserve all kinds of texts; there is ample evidence of this practice in inventories, wills, and ex-libris made by book owners. In her investigation of medieval and Renaissance sermons, property titles, and treatises on music that happen to mention epic poetry, Paula Leverage has found that the diffusion of chansons de geste was closely connected to monasteries and other religious institutions.48 A well-known passage of De musica (c.1300), a treatise on secular music by Johannes de Grocheio (Jean de Grouchy), deals specifically with epic songs. According to Leverage, Grocheio saw a direct connection linking the life of an epic hero to the life of a saint, since both are figures determined to defend truth and faith. As emblematic models meant to elevate the spirit of the community, they constituted a perfect example by satisfying the simple taste or by meeting the narrative expectations of an audience made up of people of all ages, laborers, villagers, and city dwellers who were captivated by the dramatic lives novelized in these stories. We know that sections of Grocheio’s treatise were written in collaboration with a certain Clement, who has recently been identified as a Benedictine monk from the Lessay Abbey in Normandy. Given what is known about medieval music masters and their professional environment, Grocheio may have also been a cleric, which once again goes to confirm the connection between epic poetry and clerical culture. The possible monastic origin of epic poetry has not received the attention it deserves in Spain, since most scholars accepted the dominant neotraditionalist theory which, by emphasizing the popular and secular nature of epic poetry, has tended to exclude any possibility of clerical origins or the single authorship of a learned poet, for that matter. Nevertheless, one of Menéndez Pidal’s most renowned students, Dámaso Alonso, accepted some of Bédier’s ideas: Hay puntos […] en que las ideas de Bédier me parecen irrebatibles. Lo mismo el Poema del Cid que la Chanson de Roland son obra de poeta único y genial. Las refundiciones de poemas épicos hay que considerarlas, me parece, a la misma luz. Distinto es el caso de los romances; creación también de poeta individual, estas piezas han rodado en la memoria de muchos, sufriendo alteraciones a veces embellecedoras. El concepto de tradicionalidad no puede ser el mismo para el poema largo y el romance breve. Otra idea que creo acertada, si se la limita, es la de la 48 Leverage, “The Reception”. The Question of Authorship 105 participación de antecedentes cultos. Bédier piensa que los influjos literarios en las Chansons (y lo que puede justificar su repentina aparición en cuajada forma) son la Biblia, Virgilio, las vidas de Santos. La participación limitada de estos influjos la creo indudable, aunque mucho mayor en el Roland que en nuestro Poema del Cid.49 It should be noted that even though Alonso’s study was reprinted several times,50 Bédier’s views on epic poetry continued to be ignored in Spain. This, however, was not the case among British Hispanists. As early as 1969, Alan Deyermond, for example, published an important study that revealed a connection between Spanish churches and monasteries with tombs of famous heroes on their premises, and the diffusion of epic legends narrating their exploits.51 Later, Ian Michael was one of the first scholars to make a case for clergymen as authors of Spanish epic poems. To this end, he pointed out how themes from the Carolingian epic poetry were brought into the Iberian Peninsula from France, thus establishing the conditions for the creation of a local epic genre composed by clerics: Parece seguro que la epopeya nativa floreció tarde en España – como tantos otros géneros literarios – y que el impulso creador de esta nueva epopeya clerical española – la única asequible a nosotros, aunque fragmentariamente – provino en esa época de fines del siglo XII desde más allá de los Pirineos, donde se había desarrollado más pronto el género épico en una sociedad económicamente más fuerte, que estaba en pleno proceso de inventar para sí un pasado guerrero y heroico.52 Research carried out by Peter Russell and Alan Deyermond, among others, has shown that legends linking the lives of historic figures with medieval churches and monasteries are, for the most part, fabrications aimed at exploiting the relationships – as tenuous as they were at the beginning – between religious institutions and well-known historical figures. It became normal for churches and monasteries to foster foundational legends with heroic themes, at times going as far as fabricating false documents attesting to relics, tombs, and proprietary rights. But the burial monuments of important figures were the most 49 50 51 52 Alonso, De los siglos oscuros, p. 69, n. 29. His article was first published in 1947 in Revista de Estudios Políticos. It was later included in De los siglos oscuros as well as in Obras completas, vol. 2, pp. 145-61. Deyermond, Epic Poetry. Michael, “Orígenes de la epopeya”, p. 83 (emphasis is mine). 106 Zaderenko effective incentive that attracted the nobility of the time to be entombed within a monastery’s sacred confines and leave large endowments to their chosen religious resting place. In short, the presence of learned elements and religious motifs in Castilian epic texts is a reminder that the origin of this particular type of narrative poem is closely linked to the churches and monasteries that housed, and in some cases venerated, the remains of important heroic figures.53 As in other epic legends, there is sufficient internal and external evidence in the PMC to link the protagonist’s heroic narrative with a religious house, namely, the Monastery of San Pedro de Cardeña. In the poem, Rodrigo Díaz’s helpless family receiving comfort and shelter in the monastery can be read as a typological example that prefigures the sanctuary’s promise of fulfilling its obligation to protect those in their custody by assuring not only their earthly well-being but also their religious care after death.54 It should not come as a surprise if, decades after their burial, new generations of monks gave rise to legends such as the Cid’s long family affiliation with the monastery in order to attract pilgrims and donations, as well as to bolster the fame of their religious house. In effect, there is evidence that San Pedro de Cardeña became the center of a cult where the Cid was venerated during the Middle Ages. Not only did the monks proudly assert that the Castilian hero and his wife Jimena were buried in Cardeña, together with many of the Cid’s relatives and vassals, but even his horse Babieca found a resting place in the garden of the monastery. With time, the veneration of the Cid turned into religious worship, even to the point of initiating an unsuccessful process of canonization in the 16th century.55 In the words of one of the most distinguished scholars of the PMC, Colin Smith, “[t]he Cid as national hero owes less to his own lifetime or to the Poema and ballads than he does to Cardeña”.56 Most of the benefices and endowments this monastery received during the Middle Ages came from the local nobility, as recorded in the Libro de memorias 53 54 55 56 For more details about the relationship between religious houses and heroic legends, see chapter one of my study El monasterio de Cardeña. Just as persons and events of the Old Testament were seen as prefiguring those of the New Testament, so too can the earthly refuge of Rodrigo’s family in the monastery be read as a predictive event that finds its Christian fulfillment in their life after death in the same sacred ground. This suggestion, which was made by Ottavio Di Camillo at the meeting of Medievalists of New England (6 December 2014) devoted to the PMC authorship, is plausible in my view. The proceedings for Rodrigo’s beatification were initiated in 1554 at the request of King Felipe II, but his canonization was never approved. Smith, “The Diffusion of the Cid Cult”, 47a-b. The Question of Authorship 107 y aniversarios kept by the monks at Cardeña.57 The generosity of the local nobles may have been incentivized by the Cid’s example, since he was an infanzón (a member of the lower nobility) from Vivar (a town close to Cardeña) who was able to improve his social and economic status thanks to the monks’ help, and did not forget to send splendid gifts to the monastery when he became lord of Valencia, as the poem tells it. Beginning in the 12th century, Cardeña successfully disseminated information about the Cid that was later incorporated into different kinds of narrative works. It should also be pointed out that the earliest texts dealing extensively with the story of the Cid were not composed in Cardeña. In fact, the Historia Roderici and the Linage de Rodric Diaz58 do not mention the Cid’s family taking refuge in the monastery, although they remember that Rodrigo was buried there. In the century following the Cid’s death, details of his exploits and news of his demise appeared in Latin and vernacular literature, both in chronicles and poetic texts, and his fame soon crossed the frontiers of the Iberian Peninsula. Taking into consideration that by the end of the 12th century the first works dedicated to extolling the figure of the Cid began to circulate, it was probably at this time when the monks of Cardeña began to claim the monastery’s prominent role in the life of Rodrigo, the hero who, after all, was buried in their church. This could explain why the PMC was the first text linking the hero’s biographical events to the religious house. Clues pointing to the author’s considerable erudition as well as to the prominent role of Cardeña in the poem have occasionally led critics to place its composition in the Castilian monastery. As Ian Michael has pointed out, many details suggest that the poem was composed by a cleric: 57 58 The only manuscript of Cardeña’s Libro de memorias y aniversarios (HC: NS7/1) belongs to the collection of medieval codices housed at the Hispanic Society of America. The Hispanic Society acquired the codex in 1914 from a bookseller in Leipzig, and it is one of the few extant documents from the Castilian monastery founded by count Garci Fernández at the end of the 10th century. The Libro de memorias contains two entries in the month of June about the anniversaries of the Cid’s and Doña Jimena’s deaths, which have attracted some scholars’ attention. In my studies on the Libro de memorias, I have called attention to other entries referring to Don Per Abbad from Támara and Per Abbad from Orbaneja, who might be related to the Per Abbat that appears in the poem’s colophon (Zaderenko, “Per Abbat en Cardeña”; “Per Abbat en Cardeña. Addenda”). At the end of the 12th century, the Linage de Rodric Diaz, the first work written in Romance and dedicated to the Cid, was composed. It is a text from Navarre that includes the hero’s genealogy and information about his descendants, as well as a brief biography based on the Historia Roderici and the Chronica Naierensis. 108 Zaderenko […] los conocimientos del poeta en materia de clerecía invitan a pensar que el monasterio fue el lugar de composición. Podríamos imaginar que el poeta era clérigo; que fue educado por los benedictinos; que acaso llegara a ser notario del abad y a familiarizarse con documentos y disputas legales, teniendo libre acceso a crónicas y adquiriendo conocimientos acerca de asuntos políticos y del comportamiento de los monarcas, nobles y caballeros que habrían visitado el monasterio de vez en cuando.59 Michael compares the author of the PMC to Gonzalo de Berceo, a “poeta que escribió, quizá, bajo condiciones semejantes” in the Monastery of San Millán de la Cogolla.60 According to Michael, the author of the PMC had far more talent than a mere juglar, evidenced by the way he interwove historical information into fictional narrative. Cardeña’s relationship with the Cid and his wife may have begun when Jimena transferred her husband’s remains to the monastery soon after she was forced to abandon Valencia in 1102. It is difficult to ascertain precisely when the monks began to display objects mentioned in the poem as relics: the sword Tizón; the bench that Rodrigo used in the Cortes of Toledo; one of the famous chests used to deceive the Jews; the tomb of the horse Babieca, supposedly buried in the monastery’s garden; as well as other articles testifying to his “historical” existence. In their efforts to keep the Cid’s memory alive, the monks composed a now-lost Estoria caradignense del Cid which ended with a legendary explanation – almost a hagiography – of Rodrigo’s death in Valencia and the transfer of his incorruptible remains to Cardeña. The Estoria caradignense del Cid, as well as other information that originated in the monastery, were later included in King Alfonso X’s Estoria de España. As previously indicated, Rodrigo Díaz’s body was moved to Cardeña when the Christians were forced to evacuate Valencia three years after his death. The earliest account documenting the transfer of the Cid’s remains to the monastery appeared in the Historia Roderici, which dates to the end of the 12th century.61 The Linage de Rodric Díaz, which was composed c.1200, also mentions the conquest of Valencia, the Cid’s death, and the transfer of his remains to Cardeña: “Et lidió meo Çid con eyllos [los moros], et venciolos todos, et 59 60 61 Michael, Poema de mio Cid, pp. 50-51. Michael, Poema de mio Cid, p. 51. “Vxor autem Roderici, una cum multibus uiri sui, corpus eiusdem Roderici ad monasterium Sanci Petri Caradigne detulit, ibique, non modicis muneribus pro eius anima monasterio collatis, honorifice sepeliuit” (Ruiz Asencio and Ruiz Albi, Historia latina de Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar, p. 99). The Question of Authorship 109 presó Valencia. Dios aya su alma. Era Mª.Cª.XXXª.IIª. en el mes de mayo. Et leuaronlo sus caveros de Valencia a soterrar a Sanct Per de Cadeyna, prob de Burgos”.62 Although the Linage depends, to a great extent, on the Historia Roderici, this passage seems to be based on another source since it gives a different date, the month of May, for the Cid’s death, whereas the Historia Roderici states that the Cid died in July. The Linage, which includes the honorific title “meo Çid”, most probably is using a source from Cardeña since the epithet, absent in the Latin biography, was utilized in the monastery.63 When Jimena died years later, she was buried next to her husband. The earliest testimony of a tomb cult of the Cid and Jimena appeared in Cardeña’s Libro de memorias, in the month of Junius: Myo Çid Roy Diaz yaze ante’l altar de señor Sant Peydro et fázenle aniversario por mucho bien que fizo en este monesterio, et nos ganó algunas cosas que avemos que por el su ruego nos las dieron los reyes. Doña Ximena muger de myo Çid yaze commo noble dueña en par de myo Çid, su marido. Et esta doña Ximena non avía aniversario ninguno mas por ondra del dicho myo Çid establecieron los omnes buenos que gele feçiessen. (fº 14r) The first entry emphasizes the important benefices that Cardeña received by Castilian kings in honor of the Cid. But there are also the large donations made by Jimena to Cardeña when she chose the monastery for her husband’s resting place, as mentioned in the Historia Roderici. Her generous gifts could have well been extraordinary in conformity to the Cid’s status as lord of Valencia, one of the richest kingdoms of the time. There are also indications that Jimena and part of her entourage resettled near Cardeña after leaving Valencia, given that the majority of Rodrigo’s ancestral properties were located in that area. As Montaner and Escobar suggest, “[e]sto, unido a la curiosidad de los pasajeros interesados por la tumba de un héroe ya célebre en vida, produciría un semillero de recuerdos, historias y aun historietas” in the monastery.64 Since there is nothing in the extant documentation from Cardeña that points to a relationship between the Cid and the monastery prior to his actual burial, it seems most likely that the monks fabricated the stories linking Rodrigo’s heroic exploits to their religious house that appeared for the first time in the PMC. 62 63 64 Ubieto Arteta, Corónicas navarras, p. 34. The Libro de memorias repeatedly uses the title “myo Çid” in the two entries dedicated to Rodrigo and his wife Jimena (fº 14r). Montaner and Escobar, Carmen Campidoctoris, p. 115. 110 Zaderenko The cult of the Cid’s tomb in Cardeña is not unique; precedents involving similar cults can be found in many monasteries and churches throughout Europe. All we need to remember is what happened at the nearby Monastery of San Salvador de Oña – where the Castilian Count Sancho García, his son the Infante García, and King Sancho II were interred – or at the Monastery of San Pedro de Arlanza – where Count Fernán González was buried. Like other European monasteries, the major Benedictine abbeys in Castile looked to establish ties with the most prominent figures of the kingdom by presenting themselves as the heroes’ special object of devotion, and by cultivating the veneration of their tombs regardless of whether they were authentic or not. A good example of this is the relationship that was forged between the Monastery of Arlanza and Count Fernán González. The most explicit manifestation of this connection appears in the Poema de Fernán González (c.1250), an extensive account in verse of the life of the Castilian count attributed to a monk from Arlanza.65 The monastery in this work, like Cardeña in the PMC, plays a significant role in the count’s heroic deeds. Another piece of evidence supporting the argument that the PMC was also composed by a monk is the author’s familiarity with the Benedictine Rule, whose regulations regarding hospitality are followed in narrating the Cid’s welcoming by the abbot of the monastery. The order’s precept is to see the figure of Christ in all those who seek shelter or visit Benedictine houses. The Rule explains in great detail how guests should be received, and how the monks and the abbot should act in such occasions. The author of the PMC, in fact, follows very closely the prescribed Benedictine treatment when narrating the Cid’s reception at the monastery. The abbot’s welcoming words, “Gradéscolo a Dios, myo Çid […] pues que aquí vos veo, prendet de mí ospedado” (vv. 246-47), the “grant gozo” (v. 245) with which he is received, and the abbot’s willingness to help him against the king’s injunction are all manifestations of the Rule’s precepts. But the Benedictine spirit may even extend to the representation of Rodrigo as a hero of exemplary conduct, who is very different from the paradigmatic hero of the French epic: he is not a warrior who performs impossible feats like 65 The poem has reached us in a 15th-century codex that is preserved in the library of San Lorenzo del Escorial. It is generally accepted that it was written by a monk from San Pedro de Arlanza considering the frequent allusions made to the monastery’s traditions; the details about the donations Fernán González made to the monks; and how the hero, in moments of tribulation, goes to the sanctuary to seek help and advice. As early as the 19th century, Amador de los Ríos argued that the poet’s erudition, the many references he makes to the monastery, and his knowledge of the Bible suggest that he was a monk from Arlanza (Historia crítica, vol. 3, p. 344). The Question of Authorship 111 Roland or Guillaume, nor is he a rebel vassal like Renault or Girart de Roussillon. Rodrigo acts on a higher plane. His personality is not shaped by a confrontation between good and evil, Christian righteousness against Moorish falsehood. In effect, the Cid is not fighting the powers of evil; he is a dignified hero confronting mediocrity and vileness. Instead of assuming the role of an outlaw, he behaves as a loyal subject. This choice reflects a key aspect of the Cid’s moral character: his restraint. He displays a sense of proportion, foresight, and, above all, prudence. The Cid possesses mesura (moderation), which expresses itself as reflectiveness, sagacity, or even resignation. In the opening lines of the poem, the Cid thanks God for the tests to which he is subjected. Most epic poems describe heroes who are far more disposed to excessive violence than the restrained Cid. We see in Rodrigo’s personal ethics many of the teachings of Saint Benedict of Nursia, the founder of Western monasticism. Saint Benedict’s Rule, as well as the conduct and spirituality that he promoted, were examples of moderation and balance. Above all, the saint advised discretion, the mother of all virtues, and restraint, the ancient concept of temperance adapted to Christianity in the Rule that he created. These moral and religious principles define the poetic Cid and allow us to situate the creation of the poem within the context of Benedictine monasticism. If we also take into consideration the important role that Cardeña plays in the poem, we should consider the possibility that the text was composed in this Castilian monastery, the place where the Cid’s remains were venerated and where his cult was kept alive by monks who had a major role in promoting his heroic figure throughout the Middle Ages. Works Cited Alonso, Dámaso, De los siglos oscuros al de oro, 2nd edition, Madrid: Gredos, 1971 (first edition 1958). Alonso, Dámaso, Obras completas, vol. 2, Madrid: Gredos, 1973. Amador de los Ríos, José, Historia crítica de la literatura española, vol. 3, Madrid: Imprenta de José Rodríguez, 1863. Bédier, Joseph, Les légendes épiques. Recherches sur la formation des chansons de geste, 4 vols., Paris, 1908-13. Bédier, Joseph, ed., La Chanson de Roland Commentée, Paris: H. Piazza, 1927. Bello, Andrés, ed., Poema del Cid, in Obras completas de don Andrés Bello, vol. 2, Santiago de Chile, 1881. Busby, Keith, Codex and Context: Reading Old French Verse Narrative in Manuscript, 2 vols., Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2002. 112 Zaderenko Deyermond, Alan, Epic Poetry and the Clergy: Studies on the “Mocedades de Rodrigo”, London: Tamesis Books, 1969. Deyermond, Alan, Historia de la literatura española 1. La Edad Media, translated by Luis Alonso López, 16th ed., Barcelona: Ariel, 1994 (1st edition, 1973). Duggan, Joseph J., The “Cantar de Mio Cid”: Poetic Creation in its Economic and Social Contexts, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989. Leverage, Paula, “The Reception of the Chansons de Geste”, Olifant 25 (2006), 299-312. Menéndez Pelayo, Marcelino, ed., "Dos opúsculos inéditos de D. Rafael Floranes y D. Tomás Antonio Sánchez sobre los orígenes de la poesía castellana", Revue Hispanique 18 (1908), 295-431. Menéndez Pelayo, Marcelino, Antología de poetas líricos castellanos, vol. 1, in Edición nacional de las obras completas de Menéndez Pelayo, vol. 17, Santander: Aldus, 1944. Menéndez Pelayo, Marcelino, Tratado de los romances viejos, vol. 6 of Antología de poetas líricos castellanos, in Edición nacional de las obras completas de Menéndez Pelayo, vol. 22, Santander: Aldus, 1944. Menéndez Pidal, Ramón, Poesía juglaresca y orígenes de las literaturas románicas, 6th ed. revised and expanded, Madrid: Instituto de Estudios Políticos, 1957 (1st edition, Poesía juglaresca y juglares, 1924). Menéndez Pidal, Ramón, En torno al “Poema del Cid”, Barcelona: Edhasa, 1963. Menéndez Pidal, Ramón, ed., Cantar de mio Cid. Texto, gramática y vocabulario, 3 vols., in Obras completas de R. Menéndez Pidal (vols. 3, 4, and 5), 4th edition, Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1964-69 (1st edition 1908-11). Michael, Ian, ed., Poema de mio Cid, 2nd ed., Madrid: Clásicos Castalia, 1981. Michael, Ian, “Orígenes de la epopeya en España: reflexiones sobre las últimas teorías”, in José Manuel Lucía Megías, Paloma Gracia Alonso and Carmen Martín Daza (eds.), Actas II Congreso Internacional de la Asociación Hispánica de Literatura Medieval, Alcalá de Henares: Universidad de Alcalá de Henares, 1992. Milá y Fontanals, Manuel, De la poesía heroico-popular castellana, Barcelona: Librería de Álvaro Verdaguer, 1874. Montaner, Alberto, “Épica, historicidad, historificación”, in The Poema de mio Cid and Medieval Castilian Epic: New Scholarship, New Directions (forthcoming). Montaner, Alberto and Ángel Escobar, eds., Carmen Campidoctoris o Poema latino del Campeador, Madrid: España Nuevo Milenio, 2001. Ruiz Asencio, José Manuel and Irene Ruiz Albi, eds., Historia latina de Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar [Historia Roderici], study by Gonzalo Martínez Díez, Burgos: Ayuntamiento de Burgos, 1999. Sánchez, Tomás Antonio, Poetas castellanos anteriores al siglo XV, Biblioteca de Autores Españoles, vol. 57, Madrid: Atlas, 1966 (1st ed., 1779). Sandoval, Prudencio de, Primera parte de las fundaciones de los monasterios del glorioso padre San Benito, Madrid, 1601. The Question of Authorship 113 Sarmiento, Martín, Memorias para la historia de la poesía y poetas españoles, in Obras pósthumas del Rmo. P. M. Fr. Martín Sarmiento benedictino, vol. 1, Madrid, 1775. Smith, Colin, “The Diffusion of the Cid Cult: a Survey and a Little-known Document”, Journal of Medieval History 6 (1980), 37-60. Taylor, Andrew, “Was There a Song of Roland?”, Speculum 76 (2001), 28-65. Taylor, Andrew, Textual Situations. Three Medieval Manuscripts and Their Readers, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2002. Ticknor, George, History of Spanish Literature, 2nd ed., vol. 1, New York: Harper & Brothers, 1854 (1st ed., 1849). Ubieto Arteta, Antonio, ed., Corónicas navarras, Valencia: Anubar, 1964. Zaderenko, Irene, “¿El autor del Poema de mio Cid conocía la ‘Carta de arras’?”, La Corónica 22 (1993), 66-71. Zaderenko, Irene, Problemas de autoría, de estructura y de fuentes en el Poema de mio Cid, Alcalá de Henares: Universidad de Alcalá, 1998. Zaderenko, Irene, “El procedimiento judicial de riepto entre nobles y la fecha de composición de la Historia Roderici y el Poema de mio Cid”, Revista de Filología Española 78 (1998), 183-94. Zaderenko, Irene, “Per Abbat en Cardeña”, Revista de Literatura Medieval 20 (2008), 177-90. Zaderenko, Irene, “Per Abbat en Cardeña. Addenda”, Revista de Literatura Medieval 21 (2009), 245-48. Zaderenko, Irene, El monasterio de Cardeña y el inicio de la épica cidiana, Alcalá de Henares: Universidad de Alcalá, 2013. 114 Zaderenko Figure 2.1 The Cid’s tomb in Cardeña. Beginning of the epitaph written under King Alfonso X’s order c.1272. With kind permission of Alberto Montaner. The Question of Authorship 115 Figure 2.2 Historia Roderici (Madrid, Real Academia de la Historia, ms. 9/4922, olim A-189, fol. 77v). With kind permission of the Real Academia de la Historia. 116 Zaderenko 117 The Question of Authorship Part 2 Linguistic Aspects ∵ 118 Zaderenko Why was the Poema de mio Cid Written Down the Way It was? 119 Chapter 3 Why was the Poema de mio Cid Written Down the Way It was? Roger Wright Written Romance was first developed in France, and by the end of the 12th century there was already a flourishing written Romance culture there, especially in Provence. Writers in the Iberian Peninsula managed to cope with writing according to the ancient norms for longer than the French did; the idea that their language could be written in a new way, rather than according to the ancient traditions, came into the Peninsula with visitors from over the Pyrenees, and the influence of this idea can first be seen in such experiments as the famous Riojan glosses (now usually dated to the 1070s) and, in Asturias, the Provençal-inspired Fuero de Avilés (originally prepared in 1155). In Western Europe, the 12th and 13th centuries were a period of growing interest in the nature of written language. This was initially most evident in the 12th-century Renaissance’s desire to improve the standard of written and spoken Latin within the Church. This desire spread in gradual and patchwork fashion through 12th-century Iberia. The decision was taken in many centres to preserve records from the past in a smarter written state, as evidenced, for example, in the elaboration of the Becerro Galicano of San Millán de la Cogolla in c.1190 ad, which gathered together and to some extent revised the earlier documents concerning the San Millán possessions. The concomitant desire for better education of the clergy led also to the establishment of what we think of now as the first universities, and Bishop Rodrigo Ximénez de Rada’s appointment of some foreign teachers in Palencia around 1204-08 is taken to have started the movement within Castile. These teachers usually taught in Latin (as in Rodrigo’s alma mater, Paris), but this did not necessarily involve a downgrading of the new written Romance; in Iberia, as everywhere else in the Romance world, the new written Romance modes were developed, elaborated, and exploited by scholars already skilled in reading and writing in the old-fashioned way, and as a result Palencia became a centre for written work in both languages. The same years also saw a growth in linguistic interests and education in Catalonia, with the establishment of the university in Lleida and the Homílies d’Organyà, the first known written text in Catalan, now generally dated to the first decade of the 13th century (Organyà is on the road from France to Lleida). © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004363755_005 120 Wright Within a more secular context, the period saw an increasing number of fueros, local law-codes given to newly reconquered towns; these were mainly prepared to begin with in Latin, such as the lengthy and all-inclusive Fuero de Cuenca in c.1190, which became the model for many others, but a few shorter ones emerged from New Castile in the early years of the 13th century, and some of these are in Romance. Thus it seems probable that, in a number of Iberian intellectual centres, there had come into existence by the first decade of the 13th century the idea that Latin and Romance were not just two ways of writing the same language, but separate complete languages, an idea which was to lead during that century to a great growth of written material of many kinds in both modes. In this general atmosphere of an increasing desire for written records, allied to increasing literacy, it is not surprising that this feeling should have extended to a desire to preserve in written form some of the oral material circulating in Castile which celebrated the national Castilian hero, at a time when Castile was aiming to rebound from the disastrous Battle of Alarcos of 1195 (an aim resoundingly achieved at Las Navas de Tolosa in 1212). Thus, if the consensus is right that the surviving manuscript version of the Poema de mio Cid is a copy of one written down in 1207 ad, as the explicit implies, then that writing in 1207 occurred during a series of important events in the development of the written culture of Castile.1 The Poema may have been performed orally before that date; although probably, if so, not in exactly the form that it survives in for us now, which, as has often been pointed out, shows some direct influences from legal and administrative sources in a number of lines and sections, influences which are likely to have accrued during the recording process in a scriptorium. The scribe of our surviving manuscript was, by definition, literate. Although this does not preclude his being knowledgeable about contemporary oral culture, it does leave us with a slightly awkward conundrum. If the Poema was originally oral in inspiration and performance, the first question that needs to be asked is this: why was it written down at all? For its written existence is unusual; it’s likely that this was the only Castilian epic to be reproduced in written form during these decades, although the surviving fragment of a Cantar de 1 These overall developments are presented more extensively in Roger Wright, Late Latin and Early Romance; and A Sociophilological Study; both have extensive bibliography which will not be repeated here. For the Fuero de Avilés, see Juan Ignacio Ruiz de la Peña Solar, Los fueros de Avilés y su época. The so-called Documento de infeudación de Alcózar, probably of c.1156, is also of interest: see Emilio Ridruejo, “Tradición y novedad en la sintaxis del siglo XII”. There is also now a digital edition of the Becerro Galicano, available at <http://www.ehu.es/galicano>. For the Fuero of Cuenca, see James Powers, The Code of Cuenca. Why was the Poema de mio Cid Written Down the Way It was? 121 Roncesvalles may have been part of a written epic not long afterwards; other oral epics which have been reconstructed for Castile seem to have left no direct trace at that early time, although prose reworkings of epics can be glimpsed in the much later Alfonsine histories. Such reworking happened, indeed, to the Poema. The fact that the Poema was written in what was still in 1207 an unusual, even eccentric, form need not imply the existence at that early time of a large reading public for written Romance, but it does seem that it necessarily implies that there was a practised reader who could follow such a text and, probably, read it aloud with fluency. The written version of 1207 is likely to have been a prompt text for a subsequent performance by a literate reciter or singer. In which case, the simplest scenario is that the composer, the scribe, and the performer might all have been the same person, and there is no need to deduce too much from the text about the prevalence of written Romance in the community as a whole; that is, the text could have been designed in the first place to be privately intelligible for the performer rather than for the world in general, who might not yet have been able to read the new-fangled form but would have followed the performer’s oral reproduction of the text without any trouble. Such a restricted reading public at the start would explain the otherwise baffling fact that nobody else, not even Ximénez de Rada in his historical accounts of the events of the Cid’s lifetime, seems to have known about the epic, and the stories integral to it such as the adventures of the Cid’s daughters, during the seventy years or so before the Alfonsine historians adapted it. There are, for example, many old ballads about different aspects of the life of El Cid, but those which are directly relatable to the text of the epic can only be dated to a much later age. The nature of the language of the Poema appears somewhat rudimentary to scholars of subsequent centuries who are used to reading the Alfonsine works, but it cannot be characterized as experimental. Admittedly, the instinct of all modern editors has been to emend the details into an appearance of greater consistency than actually exists in the manuscript, and as an unfortunate consequence it is vital in all serious academic work on the Poema to see the facsimile of the manuscript rather than, or as well as, a printed edition; but even so, it seems fair to deduce that this talented scribe must already have acquired before 1207 his expertise in the new written form. The new written forms would not have been taught to, or learnt by, any aspiring scribe unless he had previously learnt to read and write Latin; it seems that the ability to read and write Romance without previously having learnt to read and write Latin did not exist until the 14th century (when it seems to have been the case with Juan Manuel). This means that we might be able to locate the scribe of the 122 Wright surviving Poema, provisionally, with such experts as the chancery professionals in Palencia and/or Toledo, where it seems that such expertise already existed to some extent. The Royal chancery, which moved from place to place with the King, played a highly important role in the establishment of the sociolinguistic prestige of the new written mode, even before Alfonso X, and it is worth investigating further what the official attitude was at different times to the new written Romance mode. The year 1207 turns out to have been a key moment. On Palm Sunday, 26 March 1206, the Royal Castilian chancery prepared its first long Romance document, the important Treaty of Cabreros between Castile and León.2 This wasn’t a relatively trivial matter, like the few short local Romance fueros of these years; this agreement set, or at least it was intended to set, a peaceful relationship between the two irritable kingdoms for the foreseeable future. There survives no direct evidence to this effect, but there could well have been considerable discussion of the nature of the written form of the document which was intended to be of such great importance. For a brief while, indeed, it set a precedent. In January 1207, for example, the Posturas of the Cortes of Toledo, which dealt with the fixing of prices, were recorded in Romance, and were intended to be read aloud in the markets; so Hernández’s suggestion that the initial written version of the Poema was produced for a reading, recitation, or performance at those same Cortes is plausible.3 Among other things, this hypothesis helps explain the otherwise surprising setting of the lengthy dénouement of the epic in fictitious Cortes at Toledo. Yet rather than being a native of Toledo our hero might have been invited to travel there from Palencia, where the King, Alfonso VIII, had been just previously, on 25 November 1206, and where other written Romance texts of a literary nature had probably already been composed, which the chancery officials in Palencia must have known about and might even have helped prepare. As explained below, detailed philological analysis shows that the scribes of the Treaty of Cabreros, the Posturas of Toledo, and the Poema are unlikely to have been the same person, or even trained in the same centre, which suggests that this was a time of different elaborations of new written forms in different cultural centres rather than of any centralized Castile-wide standardization of 2 Much of the ensuing discussion is based on Roger Wright, El Tratado de Cabreros (1206), Chapter 3; and “Escribir el Poema de mio Cid”; both have further bibliography which will not be repeated here. The most detailed recent discussion of the use of Romance in the 13thcentury chanceries is the brilliant study by Inés Fernández-Ordóñez, “La lengua de los documentos del rey”. 3 The Posturas are reproduced in Francisco J. Hernández, “Las Cortes de Toledo de 1207”. Hernández suggested later that the Poema could have been performed, perhaps for the first time (estrenado), at these Cortes: “Historia y epopeya”. Why was the Poema de mio Cid Written Down the Way It was? 123 the details. Alfonso el Sabio can no longer be seen as the father of written Romance in Castile, given its existence much earlier in the century, but he was probably the guiding force behind the rough standardization of previous unregulated initiatives. It is thus a bit misleading to call the written Romance of 1207 “Castilian”, or indeed anything more precise than “Romance”, which was the term first applied to the new experimental writing systems, by, for example, Berceo, a generation later. Indeed, at the end of the surviving copy of the Poema, we see that “el romanz es leido” (3734), where “romanz” is still used to refer to a text written in the new way. It’s impossible to reconstruct securely how many of the linguistic decisions taken in the written text of the Poema were intentional, but we can make sensible guesses. For example, it seems probable that the purpose of writing the Romance text at all was that it should lead to an oral performance which would be understood. But the consequent need for our Latin-trained scribe to avoid Latinate syntax and vocabulary in the written text might never have been consciously formulated in his mind in those terms; it would be simple common sense to avoid words and constructions which the intended audience wouldn’t follow, and maybe he just did that automatically. If he, or a colleague, was indeed performing it at the 1207 Cortes in Toledo (which is only a hypothesis), the presence of the legal and administrative terminology, which has worried many modern commentators, would be less of a problem there than it would be elsewhere, since many of the listeners would have had experience of administration and the law. The presence of contemporary vocabulary in the Poema needs no particular comment; the absence of outdated words might have been harder for our Latin-trained expert to achieve, and it is quite possible that he did not manage to avoid them entirely. That is, if, for other reasons, a modern scholar wishes to claim that a word used in the text of the Poema might have been old-fashioned at the time, this is not in itself an implausible scenario, given that the scribe knew Latin. We need to be wary, though, over what phenomena we refer to as being “Latinisms”; the word cras, for example, means “tomorrow” in the Poema, it had meant “tomorrow” a thousand years earlier, and it’s not used now, but there is no reason why it shouldn’t have existed in the early 13th-century vernacular and fallen into disuse since then. And we need, if using the concept of “Latinism”, to be aware of what the Latin actually was; e.g. Montaner Frutos, in his second edition of the Poema, tells us that the written form sabēt (for saben) in line 1174 is a “grafía latinizante”, but not only had the Latin form in fact been sapiunt, it had been used with a different meaning.4 4 Alberto Montaner Frutos, Cantar de mio Cid, p. 75. My analysis of the final letter -t, phoneme /-t/ and sound [-t] in Romance texts from Castile between 1206 and 1208 forms chapter 20 of Wright, A Sociophilological Study. 124 Wright Words would necessarily have been used in the Poema with the meanings they had at the time, even if those had changed over the years, but achieving this involved no conscious effort; that usually happened automatically. Menéndez Pidal’s three-volume Cantar de mio Cid included a whole volume on the vocabulary, which is still essential to consult. In contrast, the study of 13th-century syntax is an area where Menéndez Pidal only scratched the surface, but his academic descendants, such as Rafael Cano Aguilar, have developed the field, and we now have a relatively clear idea of what early 13thcentury Castilian syntax was actually like.5 There is a danger here, in that the main source for our understanding of the grammar of the time is often the Poema itself, so arguments can be circular; but even so, overall, it seems fair to say that on the whole the Poema is written with contemporary spoken syntax. The contrast between spoken and written syntax is even less clear here than usual, naturally, given that our only evidence is written evidence, and in verse form at that, but the usual general differences which can be seen between the two also seem to apply between the spoken Poema and the Alfonsine texts. Shorter sentences, for example. Fewer subordinate clauses, more parataxis. These are statistical differences, as usual; we cannot claim that the Poema has no subordinate clauses, for example, merely that it has fewer than a prose account probably would. Thus it is quite likely that our scribe had no particular decisions to make concerning grammar; he wrote with the grammar that he and most other people used in speech at the time. Fitting the words and the grammar into the metrical requirements, loose though these were, would have been more demanding than the strictly linguistic organization, and it seems fair to say that he was not always fully successful in that. Our scribe might well, on the other hand, have had conscious decisions to make in advance concerning the written forms of individual words. We are hampered in our assessment of his approach by the fact that there are only a few earlier written texts of any length in Castile, or at least of long texts which we can be sure were written earlier. Many of the texts which might be used by us for this purpose are of uncertain date, and sometimes of uncertain geographical origin as well. There survive many fueros in Romance, for example, but the earliest of these are generally taken to have French models; and before the end of the 13th century many of them are romanceamientos, Romance translations of Latin originals, and it was legally necessary for the dates included there to be those of the Latin original rather than of the Romance translation (a fact which has misled some investigators into thinking that some 5 Menéndez Pidal, Documentos lingüísticos, organizes the texts geographically according to where they were kept; Cano Aguilar, El español a través de los tiempos. Why was the Poema de mio Cid Written Down the Way It was? 125 Romance fuero texts date from earlier than they in fact do). Literary works written in Romance in Castile before 1207 are rare; they probably include the Auto de los Reyes Magos, from Toledo, of c.1200, but there is much uncertainty about who wrote that and what geographical variety it can be said to attest; the Libro de Alexandre might have been written in Palencia in 1204, which could again be significant if the scribe of the Poema had indeed been trained there, but it might not have. Many scholars date the Libro de Alexandre to the 1230s. Legal documents, however, usually have secure dates and places of preparation given in the text. There are a few such pre-1207 documents from Toledo included in Menéndez Pidal’s Documentos; and pride of place in this category, although Menéndez Pidal did not include it, has to go to the Tratado de Cabreros (sometimes called Las Paces de Cabreros) mentioned above, the first official document in written Romance which survives from the Castilian chancery. It now survives in a contemporary copy to be found in the Archivo de la Corona de Aragón in Barcelona. It also survives from the Leonese chancery, as the original document endowed with two royal seals, in the Archive of León Cathedral (ms 27). In both cases, the notary who wrote the text is identified by name at the end; they are both practised specialists in the drawing up of documentation in the traditional Latin form, whose names appear at the end of Latin documents elsewhere in their chancery documentation. The reason for this decision, to write in the novel Romance form rather than the traditional Latin one, seems clear enough; they needed everybody present at Cabreros, on the Leonese-Castilian border, including the forty distinguished witnesses mentioned at the end (in the Latin formula) as testes qui presentes fuerunt, to hear the text read aloud and confirm that they understood exactly what the stipulations were. This context for the novel written form is thus remarkably similar to the context of the Strasbourg Oaths of 364 years earlier. Reading the text of the Treaty aloud on the basis of the written forms would not have been easy. It might have been particularly difficult, or near impossible, if the reader wasn’t the same person as the writer; it seems probable, as Taylor has established, that until well into the century many literate Castilians found written Latin easier to read and understand than written Romance.6 This is entirely understandable. Even modern specialists in phonetics find it difficult to read their native language aloud from a text in phonetic script if they have never seen it before. In this case, we can assume that the reader aloud was not only already practised to some extent in written Romance, but also knew in detail what the text contained. The written form was intended primarily to indicate the lexical item immediately to the reader, who would 6 Barry Taylor, “Raimundus de Biterris’s Liber Kalile et Dimne”. 126 Wright recognize the word and then pronounce it in his usual manner; this is our usual procedure when reading a language which we know. Accuracy of phonetic transcription is thus a wholly secondary desideratum; we are dealing here with what Romanists sometimes call a scripta, involving a known corpus of written forms, rather than a direct phonetic transcription. This explains why the slight graphical differences that there are between words in the version drawn up by the Castilian chancery and the same words in that drawn up by the Leonese chancery do not correspond, on the whole, with differences in pronunciation between the two sides of any phonetic isogloss that ran between León and Palencia. They correspond more closely in the event to what we might expect from a scenario in which two notaries, from slightly different educational backgrounds, wrote the text at the dictation of the expert who had drawn up the original borrador (draft) – for there must have been one, or perhaps several, of these. For example, there’s a regular variation between, on the one hand, the forms o and a (from haber) in the version from the Castilian chancery, and, on the other, ho and ha in the version from the Leonese chancery, although these are words which are pronounced identically by all participants; and there is also regular variation between heredad and eredad, where the reverse applies, in that the form from Castile is regularly the one with the letter h- and the one from León is regularly the one without it. That is, this surprising contrasting pair of regular differences seems to be based on previously taken logographic decisions concerning how to write each individual word in each chancery, not on a general decision on whether or not to begin the written form of words beginning with a vowel sound in speech with the letter h-. For several reasons, it seems certain that the impetus for this novel initiative to write the Treaty in the new Romance mode, which must have seemed somewhat eccentric at the time, came from the chancery of Castile rather than that of León. It is best consistently to continue avoiding the words “Leonese” and “Castilian” here in any linguistic sense, for there is no sign of a conscious distinction yet being made between different dialects within Romance; for the moment the scribes had enough to do getting their heads round the new distinction between Latin and Romance, without bothering about any regular diatopic distinctions that existed within their dialect continuum. Such conceptual distinctions, and the language names that depend on them, would come later in the century. An important event occurred between the Treaty (March 1206) and the writing of the Poema (May 1207, according to the explicit). On the first of July 1206, King Alfonso VIII issued an edict to the effect that the Royal chancery was henceforth to be run by the Archbishop of Toledo, ex officio, despite the Why was the Poema de mio Cid Written Down the Way It was? 127 simultaneous existence of a Chancellor, Diego García (also known as Diego de Campos). Diego was later to write, in 1218, shortly after being sacked, the extraordinarily reactionary Latin composition known as Planeta, in which, among other things, he seems to regard non-traditional spellings as all but heretical in themselves. Diego’s backgrounding in 1206 seems all the more significant when we note that the Archbishop of Toledo who could henceforth overrule him, Martín López de Pisuerga, had been the first dignitary to sign the Romance Treaty of Cabreros three months earlier, and had already been unfazed by the existence of Romance legal documents in Toledo for a decade or more. The Treaty, and the Posturas of the Cortes of Toledo of the following January (1207), were both intended to be generally understood when read aloud; it is possible to deduce from this that, at court and in Toledo, Romance was becoming preferred to Latin for such public readings, whereas Latin continued to be used for more private documentation. The changeover might have seemed to be successfully implemented in the summer of 1207, but unfortunately this incipient development was abruptly cancelled when Martín López died in August 1208, and was replaced by the Paris-educated Latinist Ximénez de Rada (Diego García’s hero); but by then the writing of the Poema, in May 1207, had happened, during the brief window of official blessing on written Romance. Thus if the written forms of the words in the Poema were consistently the same as, or even similar to, those in the Tratado de Cabreros of 1206, or to those in the Posturas de Toledo of January 1207, the case would be on its way to being solved. But, as indicated above, they are not. The scribe of the Posturas cannot be the same scribe as that of the epic. The list of thirty-four words which are consistently spelt differently in the Posturas and in the Poema includes such contrasts as (in alphabetical order) aia or aya (in the Posturas) as opposed to haya (in the Poema), bono- (buen- or bueñ-), caualeros (caualleros), garn(guarn-), hi (hy or y), -ielo (gelo as a separate word), io (hyo or yo), deless- (dex-), mie (mi, feminine), quemo (como, coṁo, commo, or cum), regno (reyno), sacca(saca-), sex (seyes, seys, seyx, vi), uaia- (uaya-), ueniere (uiniere), uustr- and uostr- (vř). The consistency of these differences implies that at least in several of these cases each of the two scribes had not only already decided how words should be written, but had decided differently in the two contexts. It seems clear enough from this regular variation that not only were the two scribes not the same person, they had not been trained in the same centre. The scribe of the Posturas, who is not identified in the text, is as likely to have been a permanent member of the Toledo personnel as to have been a member of the itinerant court chancery; but we can absolve him, and probably by extension his Toledo colleagues, of any regular participation in the written form of the 128 Wright Poema. This seems to suggest that he was not, although the Poema scribe still might have been, part of the Palencia crew. Apart from exemplifying the official desire to present important texts in written Romance in January 1207, the Posturas are thus a red herring for the present investigation. The Treaty needs to be considered separately, however. The comparison between the written forms of words in the Poema and those of the Tratado is initially complicated by the fact there are the two manuscripts of the Treaty. But it is noticeable that overall, in those words which are not spelt identically in all three manuscripts, the form found in the Treaty from the Castilian chancery coincides more often with that from the Leonese chancery than with that found in the Poema. We can hardly ascribe this to detailed cooperation between the chanceries in the orthographic minutiae, since so much is different between the two, as the detailed comparison in the recent edition shows. There are, thus, some 40 words which are consistently written the same way or ways in both manuscripts of the Treaty, but consistently also differently from the form or forms found in the Poema. These are (alphabetically, with the Treaties first and the Poema second); ad before a vowel (always a), aia and aian (aya and haya), Alfonso (Alffonsso and Alfonsso), ambos (amos and amas), Bertran (Beltran), bon- (buen-), castella (Castiella) – if unabbreviated –, castello and castellos (castiellos, castielo, castiello), Crux (cruz), deuia (deuien, deuiemos), emēde and emienden (en mend-), ētegrare and entegre (entergedes, enterguen), estonz (estonces), filia and filio (fij- or ffij-), fora and foras (fueras and fuera, as adverbs), gonzaluo, gonzaluez, gōzauiz and in the witness list Gondisalu^, gozaluiz and gonzaluiz (gonçalo, goçalo, gonçalez), Infant, infant or ĩfant (yfante, yfantes, yffantes), io (hyo or yo), iudeos (iudios), mese (mes, in the explicit), morte, mort or muerte (muert), nēgun- (nĩguna, ninguna), omenage (omenaies), qnq with an accent on the first letter (V), regno (reyno), Rees (reyes), Rei or rei (rey), Reina or Raina (reynas), Roi diaz and several other Rois (roy diaz, ruy diaz, ruydiaz), sex (seyes, seys, seyx, vi), sexanta or sexãta (Lx), sue, suo, sua and one so (su or so), tenudo and tenudos (tenido), uegada (uezes). Some of these examples probably concern different ways of representing the same pronunciation (e.g. Rei and rey); some attest genuine phonetic variation in the middle of what we know now to have been a phonetic change in progress (e.g. muerte and muert); they can even attest genuine variation in the middle of a morphological change (e.g. tenudo and tenido, since during this century the -udo forms were gradually fading away from use). Some of the differences are not clear how to classify; did the relevant Gonzalos pronounce their name differently? In contrast with these forty-odd cases where the two chanceries coincide with each other and also differ from the Poema, there are only eight words in Why was the Poema de mio Cid Written Down the Way It was? 129 which the two productions from Castile (the Castilian chancery’s Treaty and the Poema) both coincide with each other and differ from the Treaty written by the notary from the Leonese chancery: dixiere(n) versus dixere(n), fiziere(n) versus fizere(n), o meaning ‘or’ versus ho, heredad versus eredad, eglesia versus egleisa and iglesa, meta (subjunctive of meter) versus mieta, ond versus und, seran versus seeran and once serant. This final case, with the unnecessary extra letter -t added after the verbal ending in [-n], is interesting for another reason; there are two such cases in each Treaty, on different verbs, two more such cases in the Posturas and two more such cases in the Poema, including the sabēt mentioned above (1174). What has happened in each case is simply that a scribe who had been trained in the old way, where he was told strictly to write third person plural verb forms with a final silent letter -t, in unreformed documentation, hasn’t managed to forget this ingrained habit on every occasion; the statistic about there being exactly two in each Romance text of this period is remarkable but only a coincidence (and a salutary warning against finding statistics significant; often they’re not). Considerably more interesting from the point of view of the Poema is the Ruy Diaz who turns up as a witness to the Treaty. He is the seventh most important of the 21 witnesses on the Castilian side, written as Rodic^ diaz by the Leonese notary Pedro and Rodĩĉus diaz by the Castilian notary Domingo, and otherwise unidentified; he appears after the Archbishop of Toledo Martín López de Pisuerga, who was by now the Head of the Chancery; the bishops of Palencia, Cuenca, Ávila, and Placencia; and “Alvar^ nunij”; but, before “Gondisalu^ roiz Regis maiordom^”, so whoever he was, he was an important figure. As a member of the court circle, he would have been at the least intrigued by a long poem in honour of his namesake. Not only that, there’s a “Garsia ordoniz” in position 15 among the Leonese witnesses; he too would be interested, if none too pleased, when hearing a poem whose main villain was his namesake. It might be best, however, not to make too much of this coincidence; the names were not rare, and we’ve probably suffered enough from unreliable deductions made on the basis of the proliferation of people of the time found to have the name Per Abbat. The differences in graphical form of the two names, however, which are not written in the witnesses’ list in the same way as in the Poema, reinforces the conclusion that the scribe of the Castilian chancery’s Treaty was not educated in the same milieu as the scribe of the Poema. As mentioned above, Rodrigo Ximénez de Rada, Archbishop of Toledo and thus also ex officio head of the chancery from January 1209, refers in his Latin histories to other aspects of the life and legend of El Cid, but not to the events of the Poema, which also strongly suggests that the Poema was not produced, nor even generally known, in Toledo. 130 Wright Other aspects can lead to a similar conclusion. Many of the more regular graphical differences mentioned above between both the Treaties, on the one hand, and the Poema on the other, involve more conservative forms used in the chanceries and more novel ones used in the Poema; from the list above, for example, the forms ad, ambos, bona, castell-, crux, filio, filia, fora, foras, Infant, iudeos, mort and morte suggest that the chancery scribes were happier than that of the Poema to retain a traditional graphical detail that didn’t strictly represent the Romance phonetics. That is, for example, all scribes had been taught years before, in their initial training, that in formal documents the sound [we] in a word should be written as a letter o, and the forms bona, fora and morte in the treaty manuscripts, representing spoken [bwéna], [fwéra] and [mwérte], show that that lesson was hard to unlearn even by scribes who used the letters ue quite extensively in the same text for the same spoken diphthong. These written forms cannot conceivably be used to suggest that the writers’ dialect had not diphthongized the vowel in these words. The use of the letter o in these cases was a consequence of their training as much as the letter -t on sabent was, and the fact that the scribe of the Poema was less atavistic in this respect than the scribe of the Treaty suggests that even by 1207 he was used to operating in a less formal context than the Chancery. The scribe of the Poema must have been trained somewhere, though. The probability that our scribe was not a member of the chancery team in Toledo, including the team who went to Cabreros, does not in itself reduce the likelihood of his having been trained in Palencia, or by people who themselves had been trained there (whether or not he travelled to Toledo in January 1207); Palencia was the home of the chancery in Old Castile and of the new groundbreaking university being set up there in the first decade of the century, on the basis of the pre-existing cathedral school. The presence of French intellectuals in Palencia is often connected by modern scholars with the elaboration of the mester de clerecía form used by Gonzalo de Berceo and others, with the Libro de Alexandre quite likely to have been chronologically the first, modelled formally on the French use of alexandrines. This seems to have been the background to the education of Gonzalo de Berceo, for example, who went on to be both a poet and an administrator, and though Berceo’s own writings begin to be visible only some years later (he is first attested as the writer of Latin documents from San Millán in 1221) Berceo and the scribe of the Poema might well have come from the same milieu, and might even have met. They were not contemporaries; a detailed comparison of the graphical forms of the Poema and of Berceo is unnecessary here, for a cursory examination is enough to show that Berceo and the scribe of the Poema were not in the same student cohort. It’s fair to see Berceo’s written forms as attesting the language of his Why was the Poema de mio Cid Written Down the Way It was? 131 area of the Rioja rather than that of Castile, and he may well have done that intentionally (it is a mistake to call Berceo “Castilian”, as modern Castilians sometimes do), but the same general idea of the possible positive value of Romance writing is likely to have been already in the air for them both. In Berceo’s case, it seems that he only decided to follow it up for his own compositions at the end of the 1220s, perhaps as a direct consequence of the reforming Council of Valladolid of 1228 which seems to have acted as a decisive catalyst in the process of distinguishing Latin and Romance in Castile as conceptually separate languages.7 Considering the content rather than the form of the poem has tended to lead modern analysts in a different geographical direction. The impetus for the elaboration of the whole story of the Poema, whether much of it or only a little of it derived from oral traditions that had spread since the hero’s death in 1099, has often been ascribed in modern scholarship to the Burgos area, and more particularly to the monastery of San Pedro de Cardeña, where El Cid was buried, along, it was believed, with his wife and his horse. There was an expert scriptorium there by the late 12th century, which produced one of the splendid illuminated manuscripts of the Commentary on the Apocalypse of Beato de Liébana, and since the early Romance written works seem all to come from centres of expert Latinity this supports the possibility that the writer was working from there. Irene Zaderenko has recently made a strong case for the composition of the Poema to have been undertaken at Cardeña, without considering in detail the linguistic aspects of its being written down.8 Later in the 13th century we know that the so-called Leyenda de Cardeña came from there, but there is no direct surviving evidence to show that the techniques of the new Romance writing were taught and learnt at Cardeña in the 12th century; so there are no contemporary Romance documents from Cardeña to compare the text of the Poema with. The upshot is that the scribe who wrote down the Poema might well have been connected with Cardeña, or hired by the Cardeña monks who were developing the story for their own purposes, but was probably not a product of their training. Cardeña was a Benedictine house, a fact which unfortunately makes its hypothetical role as the home of the scribe of the Poema less likely. Hernández has recently pointed out that analysing the earliest documentation written in Romance in the Peninsula in terms of individual intellectual traditions leads to more coherent results than analysing it in more general geographical terms (which is what Menéndez Pidal did in his Documentos): 7 Claudio García Turza and Javier García Turza, Una nueva visión de la lengua de Berceo. 8 Irene Zaderenko, El monasterio de Cardeña. 132 Wright […] what matters is not where you write, but where you learned to write […] written texts do not necessarily reflect the evolution of the spoken language, but rather the succession of different script codes, and […] such codes do not arise spontaneously but are the products of different institutions”.9 This is particularly the case in Burgos, in fact, where the convent of Las Huelgas was founded in the 1180s by King Alfonso VIII, as part of the Cistercian Order; the scriptorium of the new convent at Las Huelgas adopted the new writing techniques immediately, while Burgos Cathedral and other local archives waited till well into the 13th century. That is, we cannot collectively analyse texts from Burgos coherently as part of the same dialectal phenomenon. Benedictines, on the whole, waited. San Salvador de Oña and San Millán de la Cogolla, for example, were not among the initial enthusiasts. Consistently the reason for the difference, in Hernández’s analysis, is that the newer written Romance mode, or “script code” in his terms, is associated with religious orders who had originally been imported from Southern France; he finds “an unequivocal correlation between the new monastic orders (Cistercians, Premonstratensians, Templars, and Hospitallers) and the flowering of written Romance” (p. 273). This correlation works well for the Romance documentation in the 1180s from the Premonstratensian community at Aguilar de Campó, for example, where many of the earliest writers of Romance texts in Castile were Jewish scribes who had come from France; and it also works well for the Mozarabic communities in Toledo through their connection with Cistercians of the Order of Calatrava. In general, a close connection with Southern French culture favoured the new mode; Navarre, for example, seems to have been an area where such documentation was commoner than further south. The Linage de Rodric Diaz, the Romance text concerning the Cid’s genealogy, is from Navarre and thought to be datable to c.1194. Overall, Fernández-Ordóñez’s study shows with clarity how Navarre was in the forefront of the changeovers from Latin to Romance, but Castile was not far behind. This does not mean that the precise graphical details were taken directly from written Southern French Romance; what was being imported from over the Pyrenees was the general idea that writing in a new way was a practical possibility. The spoken Romance varieties were sufficiently distinct then for 9 Hernández, “The Jews and the origins of Romance script”, pp. 266, 272. This important contribution deserves to be better known than it is. For the dating of the Navarrese Liber Regum (to 1202-07), see now Carmen Martín Vidaller and Roberto Viruete Erdozáin, “Contribución al estudio”. Why was the Poema de mio Cid Written Down the Way It was? 133 new local forms to need to be developed south of the Pyrenees, and, since within the Peninsula itself there was by then considerable diatopic variation, different written forms were often invented in different places. This would lead eventually to the idea, which seems obvious now but appears not to have been obvious then, that there were different dialects of Iberian Romance in existence, in addition to the newly established conceptual difference between Latin and Romance as a whole. (Hernández’s discoveries have recently inspired, among others, Maria João Branco, whose work on similar developments in Portugal, occurring a little later, is also impressive).10 The novel concept of romanz was contrasted at the start with Latin, with no internal conceptual divisions based on geography, even though the actual written forms could vary from place to place. It took time for the idea of Castilian “Romance”, as a singular noun, as a single entity to be found in the whole of Castile, to become established, and that was long after the writing of the Poema. The 13thcentury intellectuals’ outlook here was, from a sociophilological point of view, more realistic than the common modern misconception that, within a dialect continuum, distinct dialects existed then, or exist now, with internal consistency inside clear borders on the ground. The crystallisation of the concept of Castilian came to fruition a couple of generations later than the date of the writing of the Poema, and can probably be attributed to the intellectual atmosphere of the court of Alfonso X. Conclusion: the practical questions involved in writing down the epic are separate from the question of how the content came into existence, since scribes could be hired to work in places other than those in which they had been trained. The techniques involved came suddenly into sharp focus as a matter for important debates and decisions in the first decade of the 13th century, as evidenced most directly in the manuscripts of the Treaty of Cabreros of 1206, with the consequence that the Poema, once its content had been largely elaborated, could be physically represented on parchment at that time in a manner which would be able to lead to a subsequent reading or recitation aloud. There is still much that we do not fully understand about these developments, but the questions which need to be asked have become considerably clearer over the last few years, and further investigations into the texts and educational ideas and traditions of that fascinating period between 1180 and 1220 are likely in the future to lead to a better understanding of why and how, and even perhaps where, the Poema came to be written. 10 Maria João Violante Branco, “Revisiting the political uses of vernacular language”. 134 Wright Works Cited Cano Aguilar, Rafael, El español a través de los tiempos, Madrid: Arco Libros, 1988. Fernández-Ordóñez, Inés, “La lengua de los documentos del rey: del latín a las vernáculas en las cancillerías regias de la Península Ibérica”, in Pascual Martínez Sopena and Ana Rodríguez López (eds.), La construcción medieval de la memoria regia, Valencia: Universitat de València, 2011, pp. 323-61. García Turza, Claudio, and Javier García Turza, Una nueva visión de la lengua de Berceo a la luz de la documentación emilianense del siglo XIII, Logroño: Universidad de La Rioja, 1996. Hernández, Francisco J., “Las Cortes de Toledo de 1207” in Las Cortes de Castilla y León en la Edad Media, vol. 1, Valladolid: Cortes de Castilla-León, 1988, pp. 221-63. Hernández, Francisco J., “Historia y epopeya: el Cantar del Cid entre 1147 y 1207” in María Isabel Toro Pascua (ed.), Actas del III Congreso de la Asociación Hispánica de Literatura Medieval, vol. 1, Salamanca: Universidad de Salamanca, 1994, pp. 453-67. Hernández, Francisco J., “The Jews and the Origins of Romance Script in Castile: A New Paradigm”, Medieval Encounters 15 (2009), 259-306. Martín Vidaller, Carmen, and Roberto Viruete Erdozáin, “Contribución al estudio de la cultura escrita medieval de Navarra: nueva propuesta de datación del Liber regum”, Príncipe de Viana 253 (2011), 375-86. Menéndez Pidal, Ramón, Documentos lingüísticos de España, vol. 1, Madrid: CSIC, 1966. Montaner Frutos, Alberto (ed.), Cantar de mio Cid, 2 ed., Barcelona: Galaxia Gutenberg, 2007. Powers, James, The Code of Cuenca: Municipal Law on the Twelfth-Century Castilian Frontier, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2000. Ridruejo, Emilio, “Tradición y novedad en la sintaxis del siglo XII: el documento de infeudación de Alcózar”, in Beatriz Díez Calleja (ed.), El primitivo romance hispánico, Burgos: Instituto Castellano y Leonés de la Lengua, 2008, pp. 375-96. Ruiz de la Peña Solar, Juan Ignacio, et al. (eds.), Los fueros de Avilés y su época, Oviedo: Real Instituto de Estudios Asturianos, 2012. Taylor, Barry, “Raimundus de Biterris’s Liber Kalile et Dimne: Notes on the Western Reception of an Eastern Exemplum-Book”, in David Hook and Barry Taylor (eds.), Cultures in Contact in Medieval Spain: Historical and Literary Essays Presented to L.P. Harvey, London: King’s College, 1990, pp. 183-204. Violante Branco, Maria João, “Revisiting the Political Uses of Vernacular Language in Portugal During the Thirteenth Century: On Models, Motives and Modes”, in Hannah Skoda et al. (eds.), Contact and Exchange in Later Medieval Europe: Essays in Honour of Malcolm Vale, Woodbridge: Boydell, 2012, pp. 103-26. Wright, Roger, Late Latin and Early Romance in Spain and Carolingian France, Liverpool: Francis Cairns, 1982. Why was the Poema de mio Cid Written Down the Way It was? 135 Wright, Roger, “Escribir el Poema de mio Cid”, in Brian Powell and Geoffrey West (eds.), ‘Al que en buena ora naçió’: Essays on the Spanish Epic and Ballad in Honour of Colin Smith, Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1996, pp. 189-201. Wright, Roger, El Tratado de Cabreros (1206): estudio sociofilológico de una reforma ortográfica, London: Queen Mary and Westfield College, 2000. Wright, Roger, A Sociophilological Study of Late Latin, Turnhout: Brepols, 2003. Zaderenko, Irene, El monasterio de Cardeña y el inicio de la épica cidiana, Alcalá de Henares: Universidad de Alcalá, 2013. 136 Wright Figure 3.1 Poema de mio Cid, Biblioteca Nacional de España, ms. Vitr/7/17, fol. 39r. With kind permission of the Biblioteca Nacional de España. A Closer Look at the Poema de mio Cid’s Language 137 Chapter 4 A Closer Look at the Poema de mio Cid’s Language Javier Rodríguez Molina Translated by Javier Pueyo 1 Introduction Specifying the linguistic features of the Poema requires, first of all, setting the time period of the textual stratum to which to attribute all relevant linguistic features. The oldest stratum corresponds to the lost original Ω (1140 a quo – 1207 ante quem), a text that was written down in 1207 in a manuscript that has not been preserved, but whose existence is certified by the colophon of the copy bearing the name of the scribe, Per Abbat. The 1207 codex was the model of the only surviving direct testimony of the Poema: the 14th-century codex preserved at the Biblioteca Nacional de España (hereinafter, BNE). Assuming the existence of these three strata implies that linguistic features of at least three individuals overlap in the Poema: those of the author, the scribe of the 1207 manuscript, and the copyist of the 14th century codex, not taking into account some occasional interventions made by several individuals to the codex in later centuries. The impression that all editors have come away with regarding the language of the Poema, and the use of their impression as an editing tool and critical argument for solving the enigmas hidden in the text – such as those regarding its origin, authorship, and scope of composition – depends on the value given to each of these strata, whose delimitation certainly relies on a single physical testimony: the BNE manuscript. 2 The Archetype of 1207 Overall, the BNE codex reveals some linguistic characteristics that are closer to those in the 1207 codex than to those of the date in which it was actually copied – that is, the 14th century. Thanks to the comparative evidence from Romance texts written between 1180 and 1250 and to the data provided by the BNE codex, it is possible to reconstruct fairly reliably the state of the language of the 1207 codex.1 1 The reconstruction of the linguistic features of the BNE codex presented here summarizes the research by Ramón Menéndez Pidal’s edition, with additions, elaborations, and revisions from © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004363755_006 138 Rodríguez Molina 2.1 Phonetics and Spelling 2.1.1 Tonic Vowels. Diphthongs According to Menéndez Pidal, the Poema’s rhyme system should be equivalent to the system currently used in Spanish, with five vowels, which can be stressed or unstressed, and in which o and ue do not rhyme. Therefore, Pidal argued for the need to amend the manuscript so that where -ue is in assonant rhyme position with –ó, -ó-e, -ó-a and –ó-o, it is replaced with uo, a pronunciation that he believed was still common in the mid-12th century. Today, however, critics tend to reconstruct a vowel system with seven stressed vowels for the 1207 text, adding two mid-open vowels /ɛ/ (< ĕ) and /ɔ/ (< ŏ) to the five canonical ones. These mid-open vowels could be realized as [ɛ] and [ɔ] respectively, or as the rising diphthongs [ˈje], [ˈja] for /ɛ/ and [ˈwo], [ˈwa], [ˈwe] for /ɔ/. At the time when the Poema was written, /ɛ/ and /ɔ/ were equivalent to the current diphthongs [ˈwe] and [ˈje], but it is important to note that they constituted different elements, because the early Romance allophone [w͡e] was a monophonemic element, not exactly identical to [u] + [e]. Thus, the phonetic realizations of medieval diphthongs were a single phoneme /ɔ/ which could take various phonetic realizations, such as [ˈw͡e], [ˈw͡o] or [ˈw͡a], whereas modern Spanish diphthongs are biphonemic elements.2 The monophonemic nature of the medieval diphthongs facilitated that, in writing, they could often be represented either as <o> or <e> in the earliest texts, or that different spelling solutions could alternate, such as <ue>, <ua>, or <uo>, and sometimes the graphical representation of the diphthong was carried out by means of the most closed vocalic element of the group, as in <cilo> ‘cielo’ or <cum> ‘cuemo’. Only after 1207 did a biphonemic realization [ˈwe] of the diphthong finally prevail, and its representation as <ue> was established in writing. This explains why the Poema can present assonance of forms in <o> with forms in <ue> in subsequent contributions by Lapesa, “El Cantar de mio Cid. Crítica de críticas”; Martín Zorraquino, “Problemas lingüísticos”; Marcos Marín, Poema de mio Cid; Catalán, La épica española; and Montaner, “Revisión textual” and Cantar. The solid study by Torrens Álvarez, Edición y estudio lingüístico del Fuero de Alcalá, is the main source of the data I have used to contrast the language of the BNE codex with contemporary documents dated before 1250, though Torrens’ work can be complemented with data from Matute and Pato, “Morfología y sintaxis”. The examples from the text quoted here follow the readings of the manuscript, with the expansion of abbreviations for readability. For stanza numbering, I have adopted the one in Montaner’s edition, Cantar. 2 This means that the phonetic realizations [ˈw͡e], [ˈw͡o] or [ˈw͡a], were perceived as a single vowel /ɔ/ by some speakers, and therefore they were allophones of a single phoneme. Current diphthongs [ˈje] and [ˈwe] in the words bien and fuego, for example, are perceived, on the other hand, as two distinct sounds: /i/ + /e/ in the case of bien and /u/ + /e/ in the case of fuego. A Closer Look at the Poema de mio Cid’s Language 139 the same stanza, as in stanza 128, where fuert rhymes with Carrión and noch (vv. 2689-91), and that forms with the diphthong <ue> do not assonate with e, as the diphthong <ie> does, since presumably in the 1207 archetype both spellings <o> and <ue> represented a single phoneme /ɔ/, which could be pronounced either as [ˈw͡e], [ˈw͡o], or [ˈɔ], or, more dubiously, as [ˈo]. Thus, we do not need to postulate the existence of spellings in <uo> for the 1207 codex, spellings that the BNE codex never uses and were always scarce and practically nonexistent in Castile after the 10th century. It is, however, possible that the 1207 codex had <o> in many of the cases where the BNE codex has <ue> (for example, in v. 737, where <fue> must rhyme with arzón, lidiador, mandó, and pro), as proven by some cases of <o> preserved in the codex (fossen, v. 2001, fosse, v. 2137, and fos, v. 3590). In any case, the main idea here is that both <ue> and <o> were supposedly different allophones of /ɔ/ at the time the Poema was written. The codex also presents three examples of a diphthong being represented by a single grapheme, as in the toponym douirna ‘de Ubierna’ (v. 3379), the adverb cum ‘cuemo’ (vv. 1753, 2930, 3518), and the possessive uustro ‘vuestro’ (v. 2198), which were frequent spellings in early 13th century texts but are rather unusual by the end of the century, and certainly foreign to the spelling system employed during the 14th century.3 A final remark regarding the tonic vowel system of the Poema: there is an apparent equivalence of stressed o and u in rhyme position, something that happens only in a few passages in which nues ‘nubes’, Vermuez, and Ansurez occur in series in –ó or–ó-e (stanzas 128 and 131). We should also mention the form fue, third-person of the perfect tense with an original hiatus [ˈfu.e], since this ue does not originate from Latin ŏ (< fuīt), and thus, in stanza 37, we have to wonder if it is not the u in fue that rhymes with the o in lidiador, mando, and pro. Pidal adjusted these “anomalous” rhymes to the assonance pattern of their stanzas (of course, according to his metric criteria), and so, he reinstated the forms *nuoves, *Vermudoz, *Asuorez and *fo in his critical edition. Current editors, however, are inclined to keep the readings of the manuscript based on the undeniable presence of rhymes u:o in other medieval texts, such as the Auto de los Reyes Magos, where morto : pusto do rhyme.4 3 Pidal’s metric hypotheses are prior to modern advances in phonology, and are reflected in his edition of the Poema. The vowel system reconstructed here is based on ideas of Marcos Marín, Poema; and Montaner, “Revisión textual”. 4 On spellings <o> and <uo>, see Montaner, “Revisión textual”; on the metric system in Auto de los Reyes Magos, the essential reference is Sánchez-Prieto, “¿Rimas anómalas…?”. 140 Rodríguez Molina 2.1.2 Atonic Vowels. Loss of Final –e Like the rest of the earliest texts, the Poema presents numerous examples of extreme apocope (much, noch, cort, adux), i.e., loss of an etymological -e or -o after any consonant and not only after n, r, z, l, d, and s, found in the so-called standard apocope. Menéndez Pidal had already realized that the loss of final -e was one of the features that enable us to catalogue the Poema as a very ancient text, not only because the apocope affects all parts of speech in the text, but because the Poema, along with the Disputa del alma y el cuerpo, is the only medieval text which always presents loss of final -e in third person unstressed pronouns that are enclitic to verbal forms (unless the next word begins with l-, Besole las manos, v. 894) and because it also shows an unusually high percentage of apocope when the pronoun is enclitic to a noun (una feridal daua, v. 38; la manol va besar, v. 369). Both the unstressed vowel system of three vowels and the presence of the apocope illustrate clearly that only the stressed vowel is to be taken into account for rhyming in the Poema. That is, the final atonic vowels e/o are irrelevant and there is no metric irregularity in the assonance of –ó-o with –ó-e or –ó-(e), so they are to be considered neither imperfect rhymes nor failures to assonate.5 At the time that the Poema was written, final vowels would have sounded very weakened and, perhaps, they were dropped, so the spelling phenomenon of the apocope could reflect a pronunciation of either [ø] or [ə], with a relaxed pronunciation of the final vowel. 2.1.3 Preservation of Final -e During the first third of the 13th century, it is not difficult to document full forms with final –e in words that were affected by the loss of final –e before dental or rhotic consonants, especially in texts from Toledo and Alcarria. In the BNE codex, only three cases of this phenomenon are recorded: the imperative verb comede (v. 1028), the infinitive laudare (v. 335), and the noun trinidade (v. 2370). The last two are particularly interesting because, since they are in rhyming position, Pidal could build his hypothesis on the presence of a 5 According to Montaner, Cantar, pp. 389-90, the vocalic alternation a/o in series with a stressed vowel –á– does have discriminatory value. However, this hypothesis requires that we amend certain assonances which do not concur with Old Spanish grammar, such as those appearing in stanza 40, where we find the following rhymes: mano : mandado : arancada : ayrado: cauallos (vv. 812-16) or in stanza 95, where we find gañado: campo: santos: dada: cauallo (vv. 174852). In these cases, it is doubtful for several reasons that the copyist would have altered past participle agreement in arrancada and dada in favor of solutions without gender agreement, since it was more common for copyists to eliminate past participle agreement rather than restore it (Rodríguez Molina, “A minimis incipe”). A Closer Look at the Poema de mio Cid’s Language 141 paragogical –e, although it has been suggested that preservation of –e in those cases may be a Latinism.6 2.1.4 Hiatus and Antihiatic Consonants There are some examples of words in the codex containing an antihiatic consonant written as <y> (enpleye, alegreya, conloyó). These examples are noteworthy because the antihiatic trend is very pronounced in the eastern regions of Castile. Consequently, according to Marcos Marín, documentation of these words with <y> inserted in the BNE codex would be in keeping with the Old Castilian dialect of the Extremadura region,7 an area currently characterized by a marked antihiatic tendency and where there is evidence for the same phenomenon at the time the Poema was written.8 2.1.5 F- and hThe 14th-century codex spells with <f> all words which descend orally from Latin words with initial F-, such as fablo, fijos, or falcones, and it always spells the Arabisms fasta, afe, and Mafomat with an <f>, which suggests that the lost 1207 manuscript did so as well. This feature has been attributed to the conservatism of the epic style, since authors such as Penny believe that the author of the Poema may have pronounced F- both as [ɸ] or as [h]. This is quite probable in view of the presence of –f– in those Arabisms exhibiting aspiration in 6 Menéndez Pidal and others argue that the 14th century copyist removed the so-called paragoge, an archaism proposed for the original text, which consists in maintaining an etymological final –e, a reconstruction which would be needed in order to ensure an assonant rhyme (according to Pidal’s metric theories) in series such as 128 (cf. vv. 2726-54 of his edition with the actual manuscript). Consistently, Pidal reconstructed the paragogic –e in those cases he thought it necessary, even in forms such as Tizone, estane, nose, or vose that etymologically did not have it. However, recent studies on the metrics of the Poema and on the rhyme in medieval poetry unanimously reject the presence of paragoge in the original text of the Poema (see Sánchez-Prieto, “¿Rimas anómalas…?”; Bayo, this volume). 7 During the 11th-12th centuries, Extremadura was the name given to the border areas or extremos of the Christian territories with Al-Andalus, which approximately consisted of all the land between the River Douro and the River Tagus. Castilian Extremadura comprised the Transierra (the land south of the Sistema Central) up to the Tagus, a region that today includes the provinces of Ávila, Soria, Segovia, Cuenca, Guadalajara, and Madrid, as well as the enclaves of Burgos and Valladolid south of the Douro. 8 Marcos Marín, Cantar, p. 66. The Arabisms reyal (v. 2178) and axuuar (v. 1650) have also been given as examples containing antihiatic consonants; the first one is also found in the GalicianPortuguese form arraial, with a non-etymological palatal glide [j] (< (ar)ráḥl), while in the second one, the –v– is, in fact, etymological (< aššuwár) and not epenthetic, as believed by Menéndez Pidal, Cantar, p. 491. 142 Rodríguez Molina Andalusian Arabic (fasta < hattà, Alfama < Alḥámma, v. 551). The preservation of <f> argues against placing the original writing or the copy of the Poema in Burgos or further north, since in these regions F- was aspirated or lost much earlier, and this sound could be spelled as <h> or not spelt at all. 2.1.6 Results of –mb– The regular result of the Latin group -MB- is always graphically represented in BNE codex as <m>. Thus, the quantifier ambos only presents forms with –m–, and so does the paradigm of the verb camear (< cambiāre). Therefore, it is likely that this feature originated in the 1207 codex, a stage of the language in which the change –MB– > [m] took place. According to Menéndez Pidal, the region where this change reached greatest intensity was the part of Castile between the Ebro and Douro rivers, whereas La Rioja tended to preserve –MB–, and both North Castile and the regions south of the Douro vacillated between –m– and –mb–.9 2.1.7 Sibilants In a fairly clear way, the 14th-century codex reflects the sibilant system of Old Spanish, which sets three pairs of sibilant consonants in opposition, depending on their point of articulation and the voiced / voiceless parameter. Thus, the codex distinguishes the apicoalveolar fricative /z/ : /s/, voiced and voiceless; the dental affricates /ʣ/ : /ʦ/, voiced and voiceless; and, finally, the pre-palatal fricatives /ʒ/ : /ʃ/, voiced and voiceless. Apicoalveolar fricatives were opposed between vowels only, whereas /s/ was usually written with <ss> (diesse, fuesse) and /z/ with <s> (cosa); in all other positions the /s/ was always voiceless and slightly more fronted than the current Castilian /s/. The spelling of the voiceless prepalatal fricative is <x> in the manuscript (abaxo, dexar, exida), while its voiced counterpart could be represented by <g>, <j>, or (cogio, agena, oueias, fijos, junto). As for the dental affricates, the codex regularly uses <c>, <ç> for the voiceless (braço, Çid, merçed), and <z> for the voiced sound (fazer, dezir, vazias), as it is clearly shown by the contrast between dezir ‘decir’ (< dīcere) and deçir ‘bajar’ (< dēscendere). Although the manuscript faithfully represents sibilants in accordance with the parameters of the socalled “Alfonsine spelling system”, there are exceptional cases which could be interpreted as remnants of the spelling system of the 1207 archetype, such as, for example, the use of <g> + <a, o, u> for /ʒ/ (guegos, consegar, consego) and the use of s– and –ss– for /ʃ/ (Semenez, Salon, enssienplos), spellings which are more typical of the earliest texts. The codex provides six examples of <c> for 9 Menéndez Pidal, Orígenes, pp. 287-88. A Closer Look at the Poema de mio Cid’s Language 143 /ʦ/ (fuerca, corita, coracon, cabecas, bracas, vencremos), which could also be a remnant of the 1207 codex spelling system. Moreover, some words like esos, pasar, or asi, which should have been pronounced with /s/ and not with /z/ when the Poema was written, appear sporadically in the BNE codex with <s> and not <ss>, as one would expect in the etymology-based “Alfonsine spelling” system. It is possible that these anomalies were introduced by the copyist, since they are a minority of cases, however they could also be due to Per Abbat, since it is known that the distribution of <s> and <ss> to /z/ and /s/ was not regularized in spelling until the mid-13th century, so alternations on this matter might also point to 1207, the date of the archetype. In the BNE codex, however, we do not find any spelling alternations between <x> / <g, j, i> or between <z> / <c, ç>, so the reconstruction of a system with three pairs of sibilants seems to be a safe one for the archetype of 1207; a fact that, in addition, points to an early date in the 14th century for the BNE codex copy. 2.1.8 Palatalization One of the spelling features that enables us to assign an older date to the text in line with the year 1207 of the explicit lies in the spelling of palatals, which is very different from what has been found in documents from the second half of the 13th century. In these latter documents, the digraphs <ch>, <ll>, and <nn> or <n> with a curved macron above generally correspond to the palatal sounds /ʧ/, /ʎ/ and /ɲ/. Obviously, these uses are present in the BNE codex in words like villas, echados, caños, or niña, but this manuscript provides the particularity of using <l> and <n> to represent /ʎ/ and /ɲ/, as shown by lorando, vassalo, legar, or pequenas, sueno, and montana. The copyist of the BNE codex sometimes falls into the trap of hypercorrecting <ll> and <nn> to <l> and <n>, respectively, to represent /l/ and /n/ (sañas ‘sanas’, tellas, çiello), a fact that suggests that single letters were used to represent palatal sounds in its antigraph.10 Furthermore, there is a single case in the codex in which /ʎ/ is represented by <pl> (plorando), a possible remnant of a primitive spelling system which preserved the etymological pl- and cl- spellings in words derived from Latin pl- and cl-, because only in pre-1250 Old Spanish texts <pl> = /ʎ/. In fact, the BNE codex rarely uses <ll>, and never in initial position. Thus, other than the already mentioned plorando form in v. 18, the BNE codex regularly used <l> as the 10 It is possible that <l> does not represent a palatal in all these cases. It certainly does not in the paradigm of the verb levar, which has an etymological <l>. The BNE codex copyist is prone to forgetting to add the nasal tilde, so some instances of <n> for /ɲ/ could also be interpreted as cases in which he forgot the tilde above the <n>. 144 Rodríguez Molina result of the Latin consonantal groups pl- and cl- (lamar, legar, lorar). The sound /ɲ/ is usually represented by <n> or <ñ> (<n> with a tilde above it) because the BNE codex only uses <nn> for /ɲ/ once (susanna). To summarize, the use of <l> and <n> to transcribe /ʎ/ and /ɲ/ is common in pre-1250 documents and rare after that time, so it must be assumed that the BNE codex inherited this graphical feature from its 1207 model. Furthermore, according to Diego Catalán, some of the spellings found in the manuscript could be interpreted as remnants of a primitive spelling system where could represent /ʧ/ (Oiarra) and where the results of ly may have reflected a non-Castilian /ʎ/ pronunciation, as the apparent hypercorrections of some toponyms seem to suggest: casteion, which is used both for Castejón de Henares and for Castellón de la Plana (v. 1329), and guiera, hypercorrection for Cullera (vv. 1160, 1165, 1727).11 Because of these particular spellings, Catalán has argued that the result of ly in the 1207 archetype may have represented either the voiced palatal lateral /ʎ/, written with <ll>, or the voiced prepalatal fricative /ʒ/, written with < i, j, g>. Such an interpretation is compatible with the preference in the codex for <l> instead of <ll> for /ʎ/. Thus, Catalán defended the possibility that words which appear as <muger> and <fijas> in the BNE codex should appear in the archetype written as *muller or *fillas. The copyist of the BNE codex would have thus altered them, making them conform to his own 14th century spelling system in which these words were written as <muger> and <fijas>. Consequently, faced with two toponyms unknown to him, *castellon and *gullera, the copyist would have adopted the same graphical equivalence used in similar words, and would have written them as <casteion> and <guiera>. Other primitive spelling features preserved in the BNE codex are the use of <c> for /ʧ/ (Yncamos), and <ch> for both /ʒ/ (Rachel, Jewish name possibly read as /raˈʒel/) and /k/ (archas, marchos, minchal ‘me incale’). All these graphical usages make sense only for a manuscript written around 1207, but are unthinkable in an original manuscript of the 14th century or even from the second half of the 13th century. Thus, it is possible that in many of the cases where the BNE codex has ll- or l-, the 1207 manuscript actually had pl- or cl-, as in *plora, *clamar, *plena, and that where the BNE codex presents the digraph <ch>, the 1207 manuscript could have used or <g>, as in *eiados, 11 On this point, Catalán, La épica española, pp. 437-38, departs from the opinion of Menéndez Pidal, who, in his edition, interpreted <casteion> as an adaptation of the toponym (which in the 12th century was part of Andalusian territory, and so pronounced [kaʃtiˈljon] or [kaʃteˈljon]) to the normal Castilian form (Montaner, Cantar, p. 87). The same applies to <Guiera>. A Closer Look at the Poema de mio Cid’s Language 145 *conduio, *nog. These reconstructions have all been defended by Catalán and Lapesa, given the spelling clues provided by the BNE codex and taking into account the spelling system found in Romance documents earlier than 1230. 2.1.9 Final Consonants The manuscript shows numerous examples of graphic alternations between final –t / –d, a phenomenon that reflects a voicing neutralization in this position in favor of an archiphoneme /D/ (with possible phonetic realizations as [ð̞ ], [t], [ʦ]), linked to the loss of final -e, to the dissimilation of dental consonants within the same syllable, and to articulatory tension. First of all, the BNE codex shows a preference for spellings that represent final voiceless sounds in words that have suffered loss of final -e, such as nuef ‘nueve’, grant ‘grande’, sabet ‘sabed’, or dont ‘donde’. Moreover, the codex not only exhibits alternations between –t / –d, which where common until the 15th century, but also two other optional spellings that alternated with –t / –d, namely, <th> (Calatauth ‘Calatayud’, corth ‘corte’, arth ‘arte’) and <z>. Although the neutralization of /ʣ/ and /ʦ/ in final position is usually reflected in the BNE codex with <z> (estoz, prez, solaz), there are also some cases of <t> for this neutralization (Pelayet), <s> for /D/ (amistas), and <z> for /D/ (acayaz), but no <ç>, unlike in scriptae from Navarre and Aragon. These graphical uses of <th> for /t/-/d/ (which might be indicative of a fricative pronunciation [ʦ]) and <t> for /ʣ/-/ ʦ/ are not found any later than the first third of the 13th century. The codex also presents four cases of possible final dental preservation in verbal conjugations (always with the sixth person, never the third, and always in the present indicative): puedent, sabent, and prendend; a graphic preservation that would most likely not be phonetic. This might be a primitive feature of the text, which is compatible with manuscripts of the late-12th century or early-13th century, since after 1220 the preservation of –t, as in Latin, is exceptional, and its preservation as –d, with Romance voicing, is still more rare. However, González Ollé has proposed that these final –t/–d should not be interpreted as Latinate or archaic spellings since, in his opinion, they are best interpreted as haplographies of the corresponding verb followed by the adverb end(e) ‘de ello’, whose final consonant, after the loss of final -e, was affected by the usual tendency of the BNE codex to resolve the alternation of /t/ – /d/ with <t>. This hypothesis was accepted by Marcos Marín and Sánchez-Prieto yet has been questioned by Montaner.12 12 See González Ollé, “Cuestiones”, and Montaner’s response, “Revisión textual”, pp. 180-82, and Cantar, p. 735. The examples can be found in vv. 555, 610, 656, and 1174. 146 Rodríguez Molina 2.1.10 Spelling of Pronominal Clusters The BNE codex has retained some specific pronominal clusters that could be interpreted as evidence of a language state before 1230, since they are virtually only documented in the BNE codex: nimbla ‘ni me la’ (there is a similar case in the Versión primitiva of King Alfonso’s Estoria de España, quemblo ‘que me lo’), toueldo ‘tuve te lo’, with apocope, voicing, and metathesis of tove te lo > toveldo, a form which is not found in any other text, or Hyollo ‘yo te lo’ (vv. 3286, 3322, and 3367). As a result of the loss of final –e, –m and –t are treated as final consonants and can appear as –n and –d (sin salve ‘sí me salve’, quen ‘que me’, tengon ‘tengo me’, non ‘no me’, quin ‘qui me’, did ‘di te’). Consistent with pre15th century texts, the BNE codex does not record any case of selo, and always writes gelo /ʒelo/ for the combination of unstressed dative and accusative pronouns (<ĭllī + ĭllŭm). It is possible, however, that the 1207 archetype contained some cases of jo (< ĭllī + ĭllŭm), a form attested in texts dated before 1250 but of which there is only one case in the codex (que no io ventasse nadi, v. 433); it has gone unnoticed because io was corrected as lo by the first corrector.13 2.2 Morphology and Syntax 2.2.1 Gender and Number Some words of the Poema present gender differences from those of modern Spanish. The following nouns are always feminine: az, puente, orden, yantar, honor, and deshonor. The noun amor appears both as masculine and feminine in the Poema, something that has been seen by some as a feature of Eastern regions,14 since this word is feminine in Aragonese and is always used with that gender in Berceo’s poems. However, in Castilian texts it appears as masculine, as in the Biblia prealfonsí, c.1250, contained in the Escorial I.I.6 codex. The Poema also varies in gender assignment for the words pro, az, mar, and sabor. Adjectives ending in –dor are identical for masculine and feminine forms in the Poema (espadas dulçes e tajadores) and, therefore, they always form the plural in –es, and never in –as, even when they accompany a feminine noun. Thus, it is possible that the form señoras in vv. 3450 and 3723 was introduced by the copyist, and it would be appropriate to restore *señores, a form that fits better within the assonance of the series in –ó-e where v. 3450 is inserted (however, the only case of señores in the BNE codex refers to an inclusive masculine, v. 1178, so we cannot rule out an original alternation señor / señora). 13 14 Rodríguez Molina, “A minimis incipe”, pp. 113-14. Ariza Viguera, “El Poema”, p. 199. A Closer Look at the Poema de mio Cid’s Language 147 2.2.2 Comparison of Adjectives The Poema never uses -ísimo to construct the superlative, opting instead for the forms muy and mucho derived from mŭltum. Thus, in v. 6, Sospiro myo çid ca mucho auie grandes cuydados, the form mucho must be interpreted as a superlative accompanying the adjective grandes, which then acquires the meaning of ‘grandísimos’. The use of derivatives of tantum > tan, tanto as superlatives (Ffablo myo çid bien e tan mesurado ‘habló con muchísima mesura’, v. 7) is also common. As in other documents from the 12th century, the morphological comparatives mayor and mejor can take a superlative value, and, thus, mayor in an expression such as Valençia la mayor (v. 2105) must be understood as an elative superlative equivalent to ‘Valencia la muy grande’. This construction does not compare the city of Valencia with other cities with the same name such as Valencia de don Juan or Valencia de Alcántara (an interpretation defended by Menéndez Pidal), but rather elevates it above all other cities in the world.15 For the same reason, in v. 2023 (tanto auie el gozo mayor), the adjective mayor is not a comparative but a superlative equivalent to ‘incomparable, supremo’, just as mejor is also a superlative in v. 1993 (El obispo don ieronimo coranado meior). 2.2.3 Articles and Demonstratives The codex offers typical Castilian solutions (el, la, los, las, lo) along with some minor examples of solutions with –ll (only 5 cases, ellos iffantes; ir alla cort; allas fijas) which supposedly reflect remnants of the full Latin forms ĭllōs, ĭllās, where <ll> has been interpreted as being pronounced as the palatal /ʎ/, although it is also possible that <ll> could indicate a geminate consonant pronunciation when the article was preceded by a vowel.16 When the following feminine noun begins with a consonant the manuscript always uses la, while feminine nouns with vocalic onset are always preceded by the feminine allomorph el < ĭlla < el(a) if the first vowel is an a (el algara, el albergada, el agua, el az, el alma). Other nouns beginning with a vowel other than a are accompanied by the article el (el estribera, el esquila, el ora), or they alternate la ~ el (el espada, la espada). Menéndez Pidal believed that some verses of the BNE codex (elas exidas elas entradas, v. 1572), presented traces of the primitive form of the article (elo, ela), but since in all of these cases the initial e can also be understood as a coordinating conjunction, no other editor has accepted his hypothesis. 15 16 Montaner, Cantar, p. 913. Torrens, Edición y estudio lingüístico del Fuero de Alcalá, p. 171. 148 Rodríguez Molina From a formal point of view, the Poema presents the same three-place system in demonstratives as in modern Spanish, that is, este / esse / aquel, which express varying degrees of closeness to the first person. Along with este and esse, the long forms aqueste and aquese are also documented. These are derived from *accu ĭste and *accu ĭpse but they did not have the same emphatic value in Old Spanish that they must have had in Late Latin. However, the use of demonstratives in the Poema departs from current usage and is organized according to the parameters governing the use of Latin deictics. It thus presents some important differences between the Poema’s demonstratives and those of modern Spanish. One major difference from modern Spanish is that este and aquel seem to work in the Poema as true demonstratives with a deictic function. Ese, on the other hand, in many verses maintains the original value of the Latin forms as an emphatic identifier, equivalent to ‘el mismo’, ‘ese mismo’ (v. 56), and functions as a simple anaphora or has a vague reference that seems to indicate distance rather than proximity, as in vv. 484, 3018, 3044 (Pora tolledo el Rey tornada da / Essa noch myo çid taio non quiso passar), cases in which modern Spanish would use aquella instead. This also explains why the Poema barely uses mismo (there is one single case, in v. 847). Another difference lies in the preservation of the Latin heritage of este, since this form is used in some cases as the equivalent of the modern ese and does not indicate proximity to the speaker, in line with its etymology (La missa nos dira esta sera de sancta trinidad, v. 319). As in the case of este, aquel also retains its Latin etymological value, and it can be interpreted in some verses as a proximity deictic, as in vv. 255-57, where aquellas must be a proximity deictic, since it refers to El Cid’s own daughters, mentioned immediately afterwards with the pronoun ellas: Dues fijas dexo niñas […] Aquellas uos acomiendo auos abbat […] De ellas & de mi mujer fagades todo Recabdo (more examples in vv. 3452 and 3435), preserving the original value of accum + ĭlle in Latin, which was originally a mere emphatic reinforcement. Finally, following Menéndez Pidal, some critics have argued that the definite article in the Poema preserves the vestiges of an early variation between ĭlle and ĭpse; so, in examples such as es dia (v. 1699), essos christianos (v. 797), or aquel dia de cras (v. 676), the forms es, essos, and aquel should not be interpreted as demonstratives, but rather, as definite articles equivalent to the modern el and los, although this hypothesis is questionable according to Lapesa. 2.2.4 Possessives The system of possessives found in the codex does not reflect 14th century usage. Rather, the system must be much earlier, since it still shows many examples of gender agreement with the nouns possessives specified. Thus, A Closer Look at the Poema de mio Cid’s Language 149 possessives in prenominal position had different forms for masculine (mio / to / so) and feminine (mi / tu / su). In v. 1, Delos sos oios tan fuertemientre lorando, the possessive sos agrees with oios as it was a masculine singular noun. For feminine plural referents, the form sus was used (de las sus bocas, v. 19, versus sos caualleros, v. 312). Medieval possessive adjectives were stressed, which explains the presence of mio, mia in prenominal position; the forms [ˈmjo], [ˈmja] probably were read with a diphthong, which is the reason why they are not accented in most editions of the Poema (for example, in v. 2568, where myo would rhyme in assonance with onores, nós, and partiçión; and mios in v. 3119, with nós, gañó, and señor). The stress on the possessives also explains the success of the article + possessive construction (de los sos oios, el mio fiel vassalo, todos los myos dias), prevalent in the Poema but not in other texts dated earlier than the first third of the 13th century. Thus, it is difficult to establish whether the profusion of this structure in the Poema is due to the epic style or to the author’s dialect. Despite the preservation of possessive gender agreement in the 14th century codex, examples of so + masculine nouns coexist with many other examples of masculine nouns preceded by su.17 Perhaps the 1207 archetype presented a greater percentage of so + masculine nouns than the codex does (although it is unlikely that this would have been 100 per cent of the cases). These forms would have been progressively replaced by su + masculine nouns during the course of textual transmission. On the other hand, with the exception of a single example (mi coraçon), the BNE codex observes a strict split between mio + masculine noun and mia + feminine noun. The Eastern form lur, lures (< illōrum), for the third person possessive and the plural, is not documented in the BNE codex, although it is in the Fuero de Alcalá and the Fuero de Valfermoso de las Monjas. We also do not find examples of the article + noun + possessive structure, like la petición suya, which had barely begun to be documented in the Poema de Alexandre and in the works of Berceo. For the pronominal function, the BNE codex uses lo to for the second person and never the form tuyo, whereas for the third person, lo so and lo suyo alternate with a preference for the first form, as opposed to other codices, such 17 I find it hard to believe that in the late-13th century, feminine forms substituted masculine ones, so it seems preferable to adopt Espinosa Elorza’s hypothesis, “¿Alguna vez triunfó el femenino?”, which establishes the existence of a dual paradigm in prenominal possessives, which, as stated above, were all stressed. The popular subsystem would thus have monosyllabic forms (mió / tó / só for the masculine, miá / tuá / suá for the feminine), whereas the learned system would have retained the Latin hiatus and would have lost the final vowel (mi / tu / su for the masculine, derived from mío / túo / súo; mi(e) / tu(e) / su(e) for the feminine). 150 Rodríguez Molina as the Fuero de Alcalá (c.1235) or the Fazienda de ultramar, which only present suyo. Thus, this is another feature revealing the antiquity of the text. 2.2.5 Quantifiers Regarding cardinal numerals, the BNE codex retains a vestige of the earlier gender inflection for the numeral dos, which was common until the mid-13th century. There is only one case of the feminine form dues < duas, with the closing of a to e, under the influence of the close vowel u (Dues fijas, v. 255), versus sixty other examples of the masculine form dos, without gender distinction, despite the fact that sometimes this dos accompanies a feminine noun. Among the distributives, we could highlight the form seños < singŭlos (always with a palatal in the BNE codex), which is used in the Poema with its etymological distributive value, with the numeral being equivalent to a single unit (v. 724, Seños moros mataron todos de seños colpes ‘cada uno de ellos mató un moro de un golpe’). We also find the form quis cada uno, which Menéndez Pidal suggested was typical of Navarre, as well as the expression Della e della part ‘por aquella y aquella otra parte’. However, the most common distributive particle in the text is cada, always followed by uno (Cada vno por si sos dones auien dados, v. 2259). The Poema does not have examples of reduplication of numerals with distributive value (dos dos ovejas ‘cada uno con dos ovejas’), which was a widely-used structure in the early dialect of León and in other texts from the 13th century, yet unknown in Aragon and Navarre. Although the numeral uno seems to be grammaticalized in the Poema as an indefinite quantifier with pronominal function (unos dexan casas e otros onores, v. 289), it is not clear that this form was completely grammaticalized as an indefinite article in the language of the archetype. Whereas in some examples this form seems to carry out this function, in many other cases it seems to retain its etymological value as a cardinal number. Thus, in Delas sus bocas todos dizian una Razon (v. 19), the numeral means ‘una única razón’, whereas in v. 38 (Saco el pie del estribera una feridal daua), it is very likely that una was not used as an indefinite article, but as a numeral opposed to dos, tres, etc. The feminine form una may lose its final –a before a vowel (un hora). A feature reveling the antiquity of the Poema’s language is the possibility of placing the universal quantifier todo after some demonstratives (sobre aquesto todo, v. 890), as well as the possibility of combining todo with a numeral (todos tres se acuerdan, v. 3551), constructions that are rather unusual after 1250. Also common in the text is the use of the dual indefinite universal quantifier amos (< ambō), usually in the expression amos a dos, ‘conjuntamente’ (together). This is a quantifier that, like todos, could be placed after the NP (Noun Phrase) it quantifies (los ynoios amos, v. 264), an unusual structure in the Middle Ages A Closer Look at the Poema de mio Cid’s Language 151 that points to a very early state of the language. Among the non-universal existential indefinite quantifiers in the Poema, we should mention algo as a pronoun and alguno and its variants (algunt, algun, alguno) not only as adjectives (algunt año) but also as pronouns, for the Poema does not display the form alguien. Regarding the quantifiers used in the Poema to indicate greater and smaller amounts, we should note the use of mucho at the top of the scale and poco at the bottom. Between the two we find other quantifiers for an undetermined amount: (a)tan(to) and bien (upward entailing), and yaquanto, algo, and pocos (updown entailing). Unlike modern Spanish, mucho could appear in prenominal position, with or without apocope, a position where muy can also be found (compare muy bien to much estrana). The full form is found particularly when mucho functions as an adverb that modifies the verb (Mucho era pagado del sueño que soñado a, v. 412). Very common in the Poema is the use of tanto and its variant atanto, not only within correlative structures, as in modern Spanish (Tantas cabeças con yelmos que por el campo caen), but also as a quantifier equivalent to mucho (Metios sol escanno tanto ouo el pauor), especially in enumerations, a feature that, on the one hand, reveals the age of the text, and on the other, has been identified as a characteristic of epic style, since this is also very common in Old French epic poetry. Along with poco (poco aver, pocos dias), yaquanto ‘algún tanto’ (vv. 2437 and 3433) is also used, inheriting the functions of aliquantum. The Poema displays little use of indefinite compounds combining a relative pronoun with derivatives of quaero > quiere, quiera, quisiere, be they Latin or Romance. Another trait of the linguistic antiquity of the Poema is the lack of the indefinite cualquiera or its variants, since the Poema uses the simple cual (v. 2364) or el que (v. 3140) instead. Also evident is the absence of quienquiera and its variants, although we find one example of quiquier (v. 2357) and one of quesquier (v. 504, written <ques quier>), with an embedded reflexive pronoun. This latter form must be classified as one of the oldest forms of the Poema’s language, as it was already disappearing in Castile at the beginning of the 13th century.18 The low frequency of compound indefinites in the BNE codex contrasts with their usage in texts of the mester de clerecía, where forms such as quiquiera and quequiera can be found in abundance. 18 Besides this example, I only have found this form in the Fuero de Béjar and in Old Portuguese (quexiquer), along with the thirteen examples of quisquier in the Libro de Alexandre, and qual se quisier in the Fuero General de Navarra and the Fuero de Brihuega (Menéndez Pidal, Cantar, p. 260). 152 Rodríguez Molina 2.2.6 Relative Pronouns The Poema presents the following relative and interrogative forms derived from their Latin counterparts: qui < quī, quien < quĕm, que < quid, qual < qualem, and cuanto < quantum. Qui is always used in the text for human referents without explicit antecedents, and always as a subject or following a preposition, the same functions we also find for quien, used for both singular and plural referents, and the relative que, used for both inanimate and human referents in any syntactic function. The qual and quanto relatives are also used for any syntactic function and always appear without an article (a qual dizen medina, v. 2879; Vedada lan conpra dentro en burgos la casa / De todas cosas quantas son de uianda, vv. 62-63). Regarding compound relatives, the Poema only has el que and el qui, which are always in subject position. This fact can be important, since el qui has been said to be a linguistic feature of Eastern dialects.19 One of the features that reveals the antiquity of the Poema is that it lacks any example of the relative el cual, which is already frequent in Berceo. Instead, the Poema uses the simple relative qual (Con .CC. caualleros quales myo çid mando, v. 2838). The Poema also lacks examples of the possessive relative cuyo, using que followed by a possessive instead (marauilla es del Çid que su ondra creçe tanto, v. 1861). 2.2.7 Personal Pronouns. Forms of Address Like other medieval texts, the Poema uses the stressed forms nós and vós for the first and second persons in the plural, in subject position or after a preposition, instead of the modern nosotros and vosotros, which have been documented since the 13th century, but which are not used at all in the BNE codex. The Poema also documents connusco ‘con nosotros’ and convusco ‘con vosotros’, forms created by analogy with conmigo and contigo that predominate in the text, since the BNE codex does not show a single case of either con {nos ~ vos} or con {nosotros ~ vosotros}. This fondness for connusco and convusco could be interpreted as a dialectal or older feature of the Poema, since other texts from the first half of the 13th century, as the Fazienda de ultramar or the Biblia prealfonsí do use the analytical forms con nos, con vos. Another old feature of the text is the use of the form elle < ĭlle for the third person pronoun (Saldrien del monesterio do elle las dexo, v. 1353, where the referent of elle is ‘Cid’), instead of the variant él (also documented in the Poema), since the form elle is barely found after the 13th century and is extremely rare after 1250. The general form of address in the text is vos for both singular and plural; this is the form of address noblemen use with each other, and it is employed by 19 Fernández-Ordóñez, “Alfonso X”, p. 405. A Closer Look at the Poema de mio Cid’s Language 153 everybody to address the king. The Cid and his wife address each other with vos, and so do their daughters. Vos is also used to address the Jews, but the form reserved for the Moors is always tú. This group uses mainly tú, both to address each other (even when they are addressing their kings) and when they speak to Christian characters (the Cid and the Moorish King Bucar address each other with tú). This distribution of pronouns may be intended to reflect the fact that Arabic only has one form of address, although the Moors, on occasion, also use vos, such as when Abengalvón speaks with Minaya in v. 1521: Traedes estas duenas por o valdremos mas. Tú is reserved for asymmetrical relations; for example, the Cid addresses his nephews Félez Muñoz and Muño Gustioz as tú. He uses both forms with Pero Vermúez, addressing him alternatively as vos and tú, but he always addresses his noblemen and knights as vos. The Infantes de Carrión and their brother, Asur González, are always addressed as tú, perhaps because they are young men, thus implying that tú was not, or not exclusively, a pejorative form, or one that expressed less respect or social inferiority, but rather, was also a form used to mark differences in age at the time the Poema was written. Regarding the form of address used with heavenly powers, God is always addressed as tú, and so are the Heavens and the Virgin Mary, who is alternatively addressed as tú or vos, combining uses of solidarity (tú) with those of respect and reverence (vos), although we cannot rule out that this follows some Latin usage.20 Finally, although the king generally refers himself as yo, he sometimes uses the majestic plural nós (v. 3116). 2.2.8 Unstressed Pronouns: Enclisis, Interpolation, and Leísmo Unstressed pronouns in the Poema do not behave like modern Spanish clitic object pronouns, whose position depends on the verb, but as true pronouns or second position clitics; in other words, their position is always enclitic to a previous element to which they are right-attached (plazme, Bien lo aguisa, Taiaua les las huertas). Therefore, unstressed pronouns can never start a verse or a sentence in the text. Enclitic pronouns may thus be attached to constituents other than the verb, such as conjunctions (quel siruen a so sabor), negative particles (nol osan) or noun phrases (una feridal daua). Proof of this is the presence of apocope and univerbation, resulting sometimes in the phenomenon known as interpolation (Que gelo non ventanssen, v. 151). When combined with the infinitive and the imperative, these pronouns may undergo different processes of assimilation (prendellas, tornasse, adobasse, vengalo, tomalo, acogello, avellas, avello, forms with a possible palatal or geminate phonetic realization) and 20 Latin prayers, including the Pater Noster, use the second person singular; see Montaner, Cantar, p. 706. 154 Rodríguez Molina metathesis (indos, dandos, prestalde, Tenendos). It is difficult to interpret three examples of the reduced form os < vos found in the BNE codex, which always occur after a consonant (metedos, leuaros, leuantados), since they could either be considered cases of reduction vos > os (which could be attributed to the author or to the copyist), or they could be interpreted as mere instances of graphical assimilation, since all three cases appear in enclitic position with non-personal forms, although in other cases the BNE codex maintains vos after the infinitive (guarniruos) or the imperative (veniduos). The codex shows some cases of leísmo, most of them with either human referents (21 cases versus 39 examples of etymological lo), or animate objects (5 cases, versus 4 examples of lo), with only one case of non-personal leísmo (este casamiento otorgo uos le yo, v. 3418).21 The manuscript shows no cases of plural leísmo or laísmo. It is not possible to determine whether the pronominal system reflected in the codex corresponds to the 14th-century copyist, to the copyist of the lost 1207 manuscript, to the author of the Poema, or to a combination of all three. If the cases of leísmo came from the original text of the Poema, the pronominal system reflected in the codex would match the current linguistic situation in Western Soria (or other areas further south towards Alcarria and Cuenca), which is a transitional region between the Castilian referential system and the etymological system used in Aragon, a region where it is common to find singular leísmo with human referents, but not laísmo or inanimate leísmo. 2.2.9 Verb Paradigms: Present Indicative Regarding the present indicative paradigm, the absence of solutions with –y should be noted in the first person of some verbs, such as ser (só), ir (vó), estar (estó), or dar (dó), as was the norm in the 13th century. The velar increment –g– in some forms of the present, due to the voicing of the Latin –k–, remains where required by the phonetic context, as shown in the present tense of the verb decir, digo < dīco, or aducir, adugo < ad-dūco. Although this velar increment spread from a very early date on, due to an analogical process with other verbs, as evidenced in the present tense of verbs such as tengo < teneō, or 21 Lapesa, relying solely upon the argument of frequency, attributed the inanimate leísmo to the copyist, but argued that the personal leísmo of the Poema was to be attributed to its author; however, there is no evidence to sustain this hypothesis, as pointed out by Fernández-Ordoñez, “Hacia una dialectología”, who provides information on the possible pronominal system used in the original Poema. The inanimate leísmo of the colophon (Quien escriuio este libro del dios parayso amen / Per abbat le escriuio enel mes de mayo) must be undoubtedly attributed to the copyist. A Closer Look at the Poema de mio Cid’s Language 155 remanga < remaneat, the Poema reflects an early linguistic stage in which the present tense of verbs such as traer, retraer, valer, oír, or caer lack this velarinsertion and maintain their regular phonetic solutions with the insertion of a palatal glide [j] (trayo < trahō, caya < cadō, retrayan). The present tense of the following verbs is irregular: exir, both the indicative exco (< ex + eō, with /k/ insertion) and the subjunctive yscamos (both of them analogically formed following the pattern of inchoative verbs); some forms of the present subjunctive of the verb haber, such as evad, euades (vv. 253, 820, 2123, alternating with regular forms such as haya), and the verb ir, which in the Poema, unlike modern Spanish, does not conjugate its entire paradigm with derivatives of Latin vado, but preserves forms of the īre paradigm in the 4th and 5th persons, displaying the forms ymos (< īmus) and ydes (< ītis), and not the more modern vamos or vades. The remaining grammatical persons follow the pattern of vādō: vo, vas, va, van. In the Poema, the verb fazer preserves vestiges of forms with etymological stress on the root, as in forms 4 and 5 of the present femos (< facĭmus) and feches (< facĭtis), the imperative fed (< facite) along with fazed, or the allomorphs far / fer (< facere) in the infinitive. The latter alternated with fazer with the stress on the verb ending (however, the BNE codex never uses the forms fazemos and fazedes with accentual displacement). 2.2.10 Verb Paradigms: The Preterite The Poema is characterized by the profusion of strong or rhizotonic preterits and past participles such as nasco, that is, preterits with stress on the root /ˈnasko/ and not on the ending, as in the weak or arrhizotonic preterites such as nació /naˈʦjo/. Among the strong preterits and participle forms, it is worth mentioning the following: the already mentioned nasco, andidiste, adux, cinxo, tanxo, raxo, adelinecho, aducho, plogo, repiso, crouo, yogo, pris, sopo, souo, respuso, ouo, sopo, conuuo, nado, fitos, espeso, tanxo, aduchas, sueltas, conquista, çintas, or preso, corresponding respectively to the following verbs: nacer, andar, aducir, ceñir, tañer, raer, adeliñar, aducir, placer, repentir(se), creer, yacer, prender, saber, seer, exir, responder, haber, saber, conocer, nacer, fincar, espender, tañer, aducir, soltar, conquerir, ceñir, and prender. Preterite forms of –ar verbs, without exception, form the second person with the analogical desinence -este < -astī (saqueste, saluest), whereas the 4th and 5th persons of verbs ending in –ir and –er always take the analogical endings with a diphthong –iemos < -īmus (partiemos, vençiemos, pudiemos, viniemos, fiziemos) and –iestes < -īĭstis (descubriestes, valiestes, aduxiestes, cinxiestes, fiziestes), solutions that are consistent with the general usage of the 13th century. 156 Rodríguez Molina In the BNE codex, we find four examples of participles ending in –udo for verbs of the second conjugation (metudo, vençudo), of which there may have been a few more in the 1207 archetype, since these forms went into decline in the late-13th century. The preterit of the verb ser retains vestiges of a Latin ŭ / ū vowel alternation, which explains the presence of the monosyllabic form fue for the first person in v. 1062 (Del dia que fue conde non iante tan de buen grado) along with the original hiatic accentuation of the form fui, which should be read [ˈfu.i] (< fūi); otherwise, it is not possible to explain all three examples of fu used as forms of the first person (Echado fu de tierra, v. 1934). 2.2.11 Verbal Paradigms: The Imperfect For the 1207 archetype, we can reconstruct an –ié paradigm common to both the imperfect and the pluperfect había + participle, for all grammatical persons in the second and third conjugations, except for the first person which always maintained the –ía ending in all regions (in the BNE codex (yo) quería always ends in –ía, never in -ié). Traditionally, all editions of the Poema have made an editorial change to –ié, with an accent mark over e, although, at the time the Poema was written, both pronunciations [ˈje] and [ˈi.e] were possible. However, the fact that verbs of the –ir conjugation preferred a high root vowel when the ending was -ié (durmie, firiensse, dizien, reçibien, vinie) suggests that the i of the verbal ending was pronounced as a glide rather than as a vowel, otherwise it would have not affected the root vowel. Therefore, it seems preferable to place the stress on the entire diphthong [ˈje] as a whole, and not over one of its elements. In the BNE codex, some imperfect verbs in –ía also show a high vowel in the root (dizian, sirvia, vinia, comidia), a fact that may be interpreted in one of two ways: they reflect either an analogy with the –ié paradigm or a replacement by the copyist of the old –ié for –ía, which seems more likely. Although the BNE codex presents cases of the imperfect –ía in persons other than the first (auya, fazian), some of which may correspond to the 1207 antigraph rather than to the 14th century copyist, the greater frequency of –ié over –ía in the entire codex gives weight to the reconstruction of an –ié paradigm for the original text. However, there are two examples of –ía in one of the rhyming –í-a series (vv. 275-76) that must be original to the 1207 archetype, unless we are willing to posit a primitive –íe form with stress on the –i. 2.2.12 Verbal Paradigms: The Future A distinctive feature of the Poema is the use of the indicative future tense for the present or the future subjunctive in embedded clauses, be they completive (que myo çid se Repintra, v. 1079), or temporal (quando los gallos cantaran, v. 316). This feature is particularly frequent in Navarre and Aragonese docu- A Closer Look at the Poema de mio Cid’s Language 157 ments, but it is also present in Castile, especially on its Eastern fringe. This particular use of the future indicative brings the Poema closer to Eastern documents and texts from the first half of the 13th century (Razón de amor, Fazienda), and to documents and texts copied by Aragonese scribes (Apolonio, Santa María Egipciaca), than to Alfonsine texts, which barely make use of this feature.22 2.2.13 Negative Polarity The expression of negation in the Poema follows the usual medieval pattern of negative concord, where negative polarity items must be accompanied by the negative adverb no ~ non, even when they are in preverbal position (que nadi non raste, que nada dezir non pueden, ninguno non osaua), with the sole exception of nunca, which does not occur with no, but does with other negative adverbs such as alguandre or iamas. The negative polarity items used in the text are, on the one hand, the universal quantifiers nadi < natī, a possible etymological plural used for human referents (the BNE codex never uses nadie) and nada < (rem) natam, and, on the other hand, the indefinite quantifiers ningun(o) < nec ūnus (always with a human referent, and never appearing as the plural ningunos, as it does in other texts), and nul, a ‘ninguno, a’< nūllus, which is used in all cases with inanimate referents, and always in the feminine form nulla. Regarding the use of nullo, it may represent an Eastern feature of the language of the Poema, since it is the most frequent indefinite quantifier in the Fazienda de Ultramar, in Berceo, and in Santa María Egipciaca. It is also used in the Fuero de Alcalá and the Biblia prealfonsí, but it is not found in other Castilian texts, such as the Fuero Real or the works from the Alfonsine scriptorium. The form nunquas is worth noting, since the variant with adverbial –s is a typical Navarre solution, one not found in Western and Central Castile, although it was used in the Auto de los Reyes Magos. Nevertheless, the form nunquas is only recorded once in the BNE codex, in coexistence with more frequent forms such as nunqua without –s (five examples, plus one nuqua, with the tilde above possibly forgotten) and nunca (one example). The adverb nunca may appear reinforced by other negative polarity items, such as jamás or alguandre < aliquando (Longinos era çiego que nunquas vio alguandre, v. 352). This last form is used twice in the text, making the Poema the only medieval text, along with the Glosas Silenses and the Auto de los Reyes Magos, where this adverb appears. 22 Regarding this feature of the Poema’s syntax, see the well-documented study by Lapesa, “Sobre el uso de modos y tiempos”. 158 Rodríguez Molina 2.2.14 Adverbs and Prepositions Manner adverbs are always formed in the Poema with an adjective accompanied by the ending –mientre, with diphthong and epenthetic –r– (fuerte mientre, firme mientre). The BNE codex does not present either the modern form –mente or the variant –miente. Regarding temporal adverbs, worthy of note is the alternation of cras ‘the next day’ (Cras ala mañana pensemos de caualgar, v. 537) and man ~ mañana ‘in the morning, at sunrise’ (the Poema prefers the form mañana to man). These forms retain the adverbial meaning of Latin mane, as v. 394 shows: Otro dia mañana pienssa de caualgar, where mañana means ‘in the morning’ rather than ‘tomorrow’, as revealed by its contrast with otro día. The Poema does use hoy, but it does not have any examples of the adverb ayer (< hĕri), using instead the collocation antes de la noche or the single word anoche (vv. 42, 2048). The Poema uses deictic locative adverbs, aquí ~ acá and allí ~ allá, to express two different degrees of distance from the speaker (proximity aquí ~ acá, distance allí ~ allá). Therefore, spatial deixis is conveyed by using a binary system, since the adverb ahí, a form only documented after the third decade of the 13th century, is not found in the BNE codex. The difference between aquí ~ allí and acá ~ allá lies in the locative value of the first pair, whereas the second pair is directional (acá and allá are most often combined with verbs of motion and, in general, they denote a more vague and imprecise reference than aquí and allí), although there may be semantic interference between the two meanings (v. 2499, Ala dentro en marruecos o las mezquitas son, with a clear stative meaning of ‘in that place’). As for anaphoric locative adverbs, the two most noteworthy ones are ý ‘allí’ < ībi ‘there’, possibly influenced by hic ‘here’, written as <hy> or <y> in the BNE codex (Hy ganno a colada ‘there he won Colada’, v. 1010), and ende ‘from there’ < inde, with a number of variants: en, dend, dende (Bien salieron den çiento ‘At least one hundred (knights) left from there’, v. 1507). It is unclear whether ý was a stressed or an unstressed element (which seems more likely), but, in any case, critical editions of the Poema usually provide a diacritical accent mark to differentiate it from the coordinating conjunction y. Turning our attention now to the adverb ende, which may appear either in its full form (ende), apocopated (end, en) or reinforced with de (dende), it expresses origin, and thus competes for this function with desi ‘from there’, desde allí, and de allá. Ende is used preferably as an anaphoric particle rather than a deictic one, much like the Latin adverb inde from which it derives. The Poema displays the preservation of the etymological adverbs o ‘donde / adonde’ (< ŭbi) and onde ‘de donde’ (< ŭnde), the first one (o) with a static and directional meaning, and the other (onde) indicating origin. Both adverbs A Closer Look at the Poema de mio Cid’s Language 159 alternate with the innovative, reinforced forms do and donde, which were, in origin, mere morphological reinforcements (de + o, de + onde), which, in preliterary times, had the values of ŭbi and ŭnde. In the BNE codex, the reinforced forms are used more frequently than the etymological ones. The Poema sometimes uses the form somo ‘the highest place’, but never the form (en)cima, typical of Western dialects. Regarding prepositional usage, it is interesting to note the presence of sines, a form typically found in Aragon and León, but also documented in the Fuero de Madrid and in the Auto de los Reyes Magos, although it disappeared from Castilian documents after the first decades of the 13th century. In the Poema, sines is much less frequent than sin, since we find only three examples of the former versus 42 of the latter. The preposition contra ‘toward’, which competes with faza < facie ad, never has a diphthong nor any of its variants, escuantra or escontra, which are found in other texts from the first half of the 13th century, but not in the Poema.23 2.2.15 Clausal Relations: Subordination The syntax of the Poema is not very complex, since juxtaposition and coordination prevail over subordination due to the mold imposed by the strophic structure, the limits of the verse as syntactic unit, and the constraints of oral recitation. This preference for coordination and juxtaposition cannot be classified as an archaic or primitive feature of the language of the Poema, which at times has been proposed, but rather, it obeys discursive and stylistic constraints. The Poema’s sentence cohesion is achieved not so much by subordination, but by anaphoric and cataphoric references, repetition of lexical items, the use of correlative structures, and parallelisms and juxtaposition. Absolute gerundial and participial constructions are frequent in the Poema (todos se alegrando, las archas aduchas). The high frequency of the latter in the text has been claimed as evidence that its author was a learned writer, since these structures constitute a syntactic remnant of the Latin ablative case. However, we should not forget that these constructions were part of the medieval vernacular language since they appear in literary texts and medieval documents. The coordinating conjunction is always written as <e, E> (188 examples), <he> (v. 2163), or abbreviated as an ampersand <&> (853 examples) in the manuscript. It is never written as , although the BNE codex does present some isolated examples of <y> (v. 2087) and <hy> (4 examples). For negative 23 On ende, see Coello Mesa, “Ende en el Poema de mio Cid”. The western origin of the form cima has been confirmed once and for all by Octavio de Toledo, Los relacionantes locativos. 160 Rodríguez Molina coordinating structures, nin is preferred, alternating with ni, and o < aut is always used to express disjunction, sometimes equivalent to a simple copula (Si conuusco escapo sano o biuo, v. 75, ‘si escapo con vos sano y vivo’), a structure that has Latin precedents, cf., the use of aut for et, something rather unusual after 1230. No other disjunctive expressions are used in the BNE codex, such as siquier or quier, frequent from 1220 onwards, nor do we find other forms such as ni siquiera, whose meaning is conveyed in the text by sol(o) non (de venir uos buscar sol non sera pensado, v. 1076). The only adversative conjunctions used in the Poema are mas and si no(n), and the conjunction pero, only documented after 1220, is never used. A notable feature of the text’s subordination system is the multiple functions of the most frequent syntactic connectors: que may not only introduce completive and relative clauses, but it can also be interpreted as a concessive, causal, or final connector. Apart from its canonical temporal meaning, quando can also be interpreted as a conditional or concessive-consecutive connector. Finally, the modal como may also have a causal, temporal, final, or conditional meaning. Among the connectors hardest to recognize by the modern reader, we find the concessive conjunction maguer (que) ‘although’, the causal conjunction ca ‘because’ (< quia), and optative structures with sí + subjunctive (the controversy over the interpretation of v. 20 is quite famous). All these can be seen as features revealing the antiquity of the text, since the Poema not only never uses ojalá in these contexts, but rather, displays in them a primitive form of the adverb sí, sometimes with pronominal apocope sin < sí me (Aiudar le a derecho sin salue el criador, v. 2960), a form that alternates either with así or with si quier in all other texts from the 13th century. Perhaps more striking than the presence of the connectors documented in the Poema, which are few, is the fact that some connectors frequently used during the 13th century are absent. Thus, the BNE codex never uses desque ~ deque; ‘cuando’ as temporal conjunctions; aunque as a concessive conjunction; the temporal conjunctions luego que, which was extremely frequent during the 13th century; or abés or apenas. Also absent is según, whose meaning is expressed with así como or with the simple form como. Finally, the Poema also lacks the final conjunctions para ~ pora que. 3 The 14th-Century Manuscript Paradoxically, the only surviving physical evidence of the Poema is the one we are least familiar with in textual terms, since we cannot be sure which linguistic features of the BNE codex should be attributed to spelling alterations made A Closer Look at the Poema de mio Cid’s Language 161 to the 1207 text by the 14th-century copyist. Gaps in our understanding of the BNE codex are due, on the one hand, to the fact that identifying the linguistic features of the 1207 archetype has been a priority and, on the other hand, to the paucity of specific studies on the language of the 14th century, an essential prerequisite for a thorough analysis of the language of the copyist who produced the BNE codex. The most complete and up-to-date information on the language features of the BNE codex’s copyist is provided by Juan Antonio Frago. Based on the 14th century copyist’s spelling, Frago has argued that the BNE codex was copied in a Southern scriptorium in Toledo or Seville, a hypothesis that is difficult to accept, since, according to him, the codex contains examples of sibilant merger and devoicing, aspiration of implosive –s, confusion between –l and –r, and loss of intervocalic –d–. Frago categorizes as possible sibilant confusion the use of <ç> for <s> (çeruicio, çaluador, and perhaps quiçab); the merging –s– and –ss– (Asur ~ Assúrez); the alternation of s- and x- (Siménez, Ximénez); and the replacement of <s> with <g> (eclegia, tigera, three cases of ge for se, all of them found in the phrase falssoge la guarnizon). The codex displays a wide range of corrections of –s, such as lo que uos he seuido (v. 73) or los myos amigos caros (v. 103); some examples of lapsus calami in the usage of –r and –l, such as cauagar, cuepo, or Fenando; and finally, the loss of –d– as shown in the example tos sos fijosdalgo (the codex displays tos with dos added above the line by the copyist himself) and the patronymic Vermuéz, amended twice as Vermúdez by a later hand.24 At the morphosyntactic level, the leísmo we find might be partially due to the copyist, since this phenomenon was more widespread in the 14th century than in the 13th. It is also possible to attribute to the copyist the interference found in the etymological system of the possessives (although they may have been there already in the original), as well as two cases of the possessive suyo in rhyme position in a series in –ó (vv. 3098 and 3248, where the archetype presumably would have had so, but there is also one example of suyo and two of suyos in non-rhyming position). Presumably, the copyist also would be responsible for the loss of –d– in fueres vençidos, a form of fuéredes, and for the only case of para in the text (compared to 65 examples of pora). The nasal epenthesis in the paradigm of the verb ficar < *fīgĭcare, probably can be 24 Frago’s hypothesis (“Cronología y geografía lingüística”) draws excessively from his own theory on the readjustment of medieval sibilants (and its problematic chronology), and it is burdened by some errors in his analysis of the manuscript’s spelling system. However, it opens new paths to be explored in the future, which will necessarily involve the systematic comparison of the BNE codex’s linguistic features with a reliable corpus of 14th-century texts and documents. 162 Rodríguez Molina ascribed to the copyist as well, since there is one case in the BNE codex without –n–, ficarán (v. 455), revealing the etymological form, which could probably be found more frequently in the archetype of 1207, as well as some of the imperfect forms ending in –ía (particularly those with a high vowel root). Additionally, we can probably attribute to him the pronominal metathesis in imperative forms such as prestalde, dandos, levaldas, contalda, and dezildes, since this feature is not found in original manuscripts before the last quarter of the 13th century. As for the lexicon, it has been pointed out that the alternation of exir ~ salir is only documented in the first two cantares, whereas in the third cantar, only salir was used, a feature that may also be attributed to the copyist of the BNE codex. 4 The Text’s Authorship and Geographical Location We shall not be discussing the specific authorship of the Poema, since none of the individuals proposed in the bibliography, be it a monk, a notary or a minstrel, has the right credentials to be its author. Regarding the geographical area in which the Poema could have been composed, three main specific locations have been proposed: Burgos and its surroundings (San Pedro de Cardeña and the city of Burgos itself), Aragon, and, finally, the old Eastern Castilian Extremadura region (both Medinaceli and San Esteban de Gormaz have been argued to be the author’s homeland) and Transierra (an area between the mountains of the Sistema Central and the Tagus River). In general, the hypothesis linking the authorship of the Poema to Burgos and Aragon have been formulated either providing no linguistic evidence to support it or using very questionable evidence, making both hypotheses weak. The Aragonese hypothesis, defended by Ubieto and Pellen, was refuted point by point by Rafael Lapesa in the most brilliant article on the language of the Poema that has ever been written.25 Lapesa has shown that the forms foz, axuvar, cosso, abueltas con / de, sines, plorando, or ser huebos, all identified as Aragonese by Ubieto and Pellen, are also documented in Castile during the 12th and 13th centuries. Lapesa was also able to prove that the use of fo, fossem, forem as diphthong forms in the BNE codex is consistent with their use in other Castilian documents. In his work Historia de la lengua española, Lapesa revised other lexical items that had been classified as Aragonese, such as nues ‘nubes’, alegreya, or firgades, and, providing solid arguments, reclassified them as gen25 See Ubieto, El Cantar de mio Cid, and its review by Pellen, whose arguments were thoroughly refuted by Lapesa, “Sobre el Cantar de Mio Cid”. A Closer Look at the Poema de mio Cid’s Language 163 eral Eastern forms. Many other linguistic features of the text rule out the Aragonese hypothesis: the Poema does not display the Aragonese possessive lur; the morphology of the imperfect takes the –ié endings and not the –ía ones, as Aragonese does; unlike in Aragonese, the text does not diphthongize before a palatal glide, nor do the coordinating conjunction or the verb ser diphthongize; the text also displays cases of pronominal interpolation, and, finally, the evolution of Latin –CT– is always the expected Castilian sound /ʧ/, which is always written with <ch> (except, perhaps, the example Oiarra, with an for the voiceless palatal affricate) and never with the Aragonese reflex of this sound, namely <it> /it/. Regarding the hypothesis that the Poema originated in Burgos, whether in the city of Burgos itself or in the monastery of Cardeña, which is located just eight kilometers away, not one of its supporters has been able to provide a single linguistic feature of the codex that pertains exclusively to Burgos.26 Furthermore, the BNE codex does not display the ennas < en las amalgam, which have been recorded, albeit infrequently, in documents from Burgos from the early 13th century, a feature only common in documents from the northern region of Burgos. Also, the BNE codex does not reduce the diphthong /ie/ to /i/ before /ʎ/ or certain alveolar phonemes (the BNE codex always has Castiella, sieglo, castiello, siella), compared to 11th and 12th-century documents from Burgos, which display numerous examples of – ĕllu > illo, since Burgos is the focus from which this phenomenon spreads, whereas in regions further south from Burgos there were no cases of –illo in the 13th century. Finally, in the Poema, we find neither the variant quano of the conjunction cuanto nor the loss of –y- in mayor (maor), both common phenomena in documents from the first half of the 13th century originating in the region of Burgos. Moreover, the entire text is riddled with linguistic features from Eastern regions that make it very difficult to assign the text to the Burgos dialectal variety.27 From a linguistic perspective, the most plausible hypothesis is the one outlined by Menéndez Pidal in 1908: many clues indicate that the Poema was 26 27 That the original was written in Burgos has been argued by Torreblanca, “Sobre la fecha y el lugar”, and Penny, “Dialect Contact, Koineization”, among others. Zaderenko, El monasterio de Cardeña, places the composition of the Poema in Cardeña, but she does not discuss the linguistic features of the original text. The most comprehensive information on the language of the Burgos region in the early13th century is still Menéndez Pidal’s Orígenes, p. 338 (on enna) and pp. 152-54 (on –illo). Since this study was originally published in 1926, more comparative studies are needed in order to fully refute the Burgos hypothesis. Any attempt to attribute the forms with /ie/ to the 14th-century copyist must be rejected, since the solution –iello, the most frequent one in the 13th century, was replaced by –illo forms during the 14th century. 164 Rodríguez Molina composed in the Castilian Extremadura region, south of the Douro River, within an area roughly bordered by a triangle whose points would be San Esteban de Gormaz, Medinaceli, and Calatayud.28 In 1908, Pidal supported his hypothesis mainly with historical arguments, but in 1944 he compared the language of the Poema with that of a famous document from Soria about the enfeoffment of the Alcozar castle dating to c.1155, along with the Fuero de Valfermoso de las Monjas of 1189. He argued that the presence of common elements between these two documents and the BNE codex pointed to Eastern Castile as the area where the Poema was composed and written down. Rafael Lapesa, Francisco Marcos Marín, and Diego Catalán also have argued that the BNE codex’s linguistic features conform more to the state of language revealed by the documents from Castilian Extremadura than to that of documents written between 1180-1250 in Burgos or in central Castile. Finally, Alberto Montaner, in his 2011 edition, also adheres to the Castilian Extremadura hypothesis, although he proposes to shift the focus of the Poema’s version to Castile’s Southeastern limit and, more specifically, to the Eastern Transierra or the Alcarria-Cuenca region. This is a plausible hypothesis which only a linguistic comparison of the BNE codex with medieval contemporary documents from that area could confirm. Penny, however, rejects Soria’s candidacy based on the low degree of variation found in the text’s language, which would be greater had the text come from a border area, according to the theory of koineization he used. His rejection is also based on the absence of leísmo in the contemporary speech of Soria, and, finally, on the scarcity of Eastern regional features in the text, since the Aragonese features suggested by Menéndez Pidal for some words seem dubious to him. Thus, Penny considers reyal to be a regular derivative from rey, rather than a form with a glide; he interprets the –g– in firgades as a velar insertion typical of many –er and –ir verbs (dīcātis > digades, extended by analogy to other verbs) rather than as an Aragonesism; and, finally, he considers that the form nues (< nūbēs) constitutes a case of assimilation of [ß] before a labial vowel (rīvu > río), if not mere haplography for nuues.29 Penny’s arguments, however, do not take into account that the Western area of Soria does indeed come within the referential pronominal system, and the region of 28 29 In his initial proposal, Pidal argued that the Poema was written by a single minstrel from Medinaceli, who would have composed the text around the year 1140. As it is well known, Pidal later rectified his initial hypothesis, proposing a double authorship for the Poema, suggesting that it was originally composed c.1110 in San Esteban de Gormaz, and later recasted and lengthened by a minstrel from Medinaceli around the year 1140. Montaner, “Revisión”, p. 176. A Closer Look at the Poema de mio Cid’s Language 165 Medinaceli also may have been leísta during the 13th century30. Furthermore, although he is right in rejecting the Eastern origin for words such as reyal (an Arabism), firgades, or nues, he does not consider the fact that the Poema abounds in Eastern linguistic features that point more to Castilian Extremadura than to Burgos. Many of these Eastern features had already been identified by Menéndez Pidal, who pointed out that Soria’s repopulation was undertaken by the Aragonese troops of Alfonso I the Battler, a fact that could explain their presence in the Poema’s language.31 According to Menéndez Pidal, Lapesa, Marcos Marín, and Diego Catalán, the linguistic features linking the Poema’s language to Castile’s Eastern border and place the author’s geographic origin in Castile’s Extremadura are the following: (a) the absence of regular diphthongization of /ɔ/ as [ˈwe], as evidenced by the use of <o>, and suggested by the rhyme;32 (b) the use of the future indicative for future subjunctive (§ 2.2.12); (c) the presence of antihiatic consonants in some words, such as alegreya or empleye (§ 2.1.4); (d) the use of <pl> to spell PL- (§ 2.1.8); and (e) the use of to spell /ʎ/ (Casteion, Guiera), an hypercorrection that could reveal an /ʎ/ outcome for LY and C’L (§ 2.1.8). Taken together, these features show more similarities with documentation from Navarre, Soria, Segovia, Alcarria, and Cuenca than with documents from Burgos, Cantabria, or Palencia, since they display solutions that diverge from the Northern and/or Central Castilian pattern.33 Nevertheless, the spelling features of the BNE codex may be due, not to the author of the text, but to the 30 31 32 33 Matute, Los sistemas, pp. 71 and 105, accurately describes the pronominal system of Eastern Soria and indicates the impossibility of assessing the medieval linguistic situation of the area due to the lack of documentation from Soria. See Penny, “Dialect Contact, Koineization”, and compare his remarks on leísmo with those of Fernández-Ordóñez, “Hacia una dialectología histórica”. Early 13th-century documents from Burgos, however, are very consistent in the representation of the diphthong with <ue>, whose phonetic realization in this area was probably [ˈwe], whereas examples with <o> abound in the Castilian Extremadura for the same period. Thus, it seems advisable to reconstruct a [ˈw͡e] pronunciation for the diphthong. Not every feature has the same weight as evidence for the Eastern provenance of the original, nor do all of them show the same kind of regularity. The use of the future indicative for the subjunctive and the presence of antihiatic consonants seem to be, in my opinion, the ones that can be classified, without a doubt, as Eastern features, while diphthongization of /ɔ/ and the spelling <pl> for PL- reflect phenomena that, while not typically from Burgos, cannot be considered exclusive features of the Soria’s Extremadura, since they also appear in texts from the Transierra area. Finally, the most dubious feature in this regard is the hypercorrection of for /ʎ/, since it is only found in some toponyms. The hypothesis claiming an Eastern origin for the original text, to me, seems to be the most plausible, but it will need to be improved and reinforced with more data and analysis. 166 Rodríguez Molina copyist of the 1207 manuscript; so, once again, any phonetic interpretation given to them may reflect the pronunciation of the copyist or his writing patterns. We do not know where the copyist of the 1207 manuscript was trained, although it seems unlikely that it was in the scriptorium where the 1206 Tratado de Cabreros or the 1207 Posturas of the Cortes were drawn up (as Wright points out in this volume). Years ago, Hernández suggested Toledo as a possible origin for the archetype (not the preserved codex), a proposal now supported by Wright with new and better arguments; it is a suggestive and plausible hypothesis that would, however, need further linguistic evidence.34 Summing up, the hypothesis that links the genesis of the Poema to Castilian Extremadura seems to be the most likely one, or at least the one that has been most skillfully argued from a linguistic standpoint. Also, considering that the Aragonese hypothesis has been definitively refuted, and that there are considerable flaws in the evidence in favour of the Burgos hypothesis, it is also the hypothesis most consistent with the geographical knowledge of the author, whose familiarity with the lands surrounding Gormaz and Medinaceli has already been pointed out by Menéndez Pidal.35 Only a systematic comparison of the language of the Poema (and not just those aspects mentioned by Menéndez Pidal) with original and critically edited pre-1250 documentation from these regions will enable us to assess this hypothesis in order to establish more accurately a dialectal affiliation for the text, and to identify, as far as possible, the spelling tradition to which the 1207 copyist belonged, a tradition that may or may not coincide with that of the antigraph he copied in the month of May of that same year, an antigraph whose linguistic features we can only indirectly glimpse by reconstructing the 1207 codex from the only physical evidence remaining, the 14th-century manuscript held at the Biblioteca Nacional de Madrid. Works Cited Ariza Viguera, Manuel, “El Poema de mio Cid (un comentario)”, ELUA. Estudios de Lingüística 8 (1992), 179-99. Catalán, Diego, La épica española: nueva documentación y nueva evaluación, Madrid: Fundación Ramón Menéndez Pidal, 2001. Coello Mesa, Antonia María, “Ende en el Poema de mio Cid: caracterización sintáctica y semántica”, Revista de Filología Española 83.3-4 (2003), 249-60. 34 35 Hernández, “Historia y epopeya”; Montaner, Cantar, p. 278. See, however, Montaner, Cantar, p. 306-07. A Closer Look at the Poema de mio Cid’s Language 167 Espinosa Elorza, Rosa María, “¿Alguna vez triunfó el femenino?: Revisión de los posesivos en el castellano medieval”, in Mercedes Suárez Fernández and Alexandre Veiga Rodríguez (eds.), Historiografía lingüística y gramática histórica: gramática y léxico, Madrid / Frankfurt: Iberoamericana / Vervuert, 2002, pp. 9-18. Fernández-Ordóñez, Inés, “Alfonso X en la historia del español”, in Rafael Cano Aguilar (ed.), Historia de la lengua española, Barcelona: Ariel, 2004, pp. 381-422. Fernández-Ordóñez, Inés, “Hacia una dialectología histórica. Reflexiones sobre la historia del leísmo, el laísmo y el loísmo”, Boletín de la Real Academia Española 81 (2001), 389-464. Frago Gracia, Juan Antonio, “Cronología y geografía lingüística en el texto del códice cidiano”, in César Hernández Alonso (ed.), Actas del Congreso Internacional El Cid, Poema e Historia (12-16 de Julio 1999), Burgos: Ayuntamiento de Burgos, 2000, pp. 229-34. González Ollé, Fernando, “Cuestiones cidianas: 1. La falsa terminación –NT de algunas terceras personas de plural y otros puntos de morfología verbal. 2. casadas ‘servidoras’”, in César Hernández Alonso (ed.), Actas del Congreso Internacional El Cid, Poema e Historia (12-16 de Julio 1999), Burgos: Ayuntamiento de Burgos, 2000, pp. 129-50. Hernández, Francisco J., “Historia y epopeya: El *Cantar del Cid entre 1147 y 1207”, in Actas del III Congreso de la Asociación Hispánica de Literatura Medieval, vol. 1, Salamanca: Universidad, 1994, pp. 453-67. Lapesa, Rafael, “Sobre el Cantar de Mio Cid. Crítica de críticas. Cuestiones lingüísticas”, in Études de Philologie Romane et d’Histoire Littéraire offertes à Jules Horrent, Liège: w/e., 1980, pp. 213-31 (repr. in Rafael Lapesa, Estudios de Historia Lingüística Española, Madrid: Paraninfo, 1985, pp. 11-31). Lapesa, Rafael, “Sobre el uso de modos y tiempos en suboraciones de acción futura o contingente: futuro de indicativo por presente o futuro de subjuntivo”, in Luis Michelena and José L. Melena (eds.), Symbolae Ludovico Mitxelena septuagenario oblatae, vol. 1, Vitoria: Instituto de Ciencias de la Antigüedad, Universidad del País Vasco, 1985, pp. 679-92. Marcos Marín, Francisco A., Cantar de Mio Cid, Madrid: Biblioteca Nueva, 1997. Martín Zorraquino, María Antonia, “Problemas lingüísticos en el Cantar de mio Cid”, Revista Zurita 55 (1987), 7-22. Matute, Cristina, and Enrique Pato, “Morfología y sintaxis en el códice Escorial I.I.6”, in Andrés Enrique-Arias (ed.), La Biblia Escorial I.I.6. transcripción y estudios, San Millán de la Cogolla: Cilengua, 2010, pp. 45-65. Matute Martínez, Cristina, Los sistemas pronominales en español antiguo. Problemas y métodos para una reconstrucción histórica, Madrid: Universidad Autónoma, 2004. Menéndez Pidal, Ramón, Cantar de Mio Cid. Texto, gramática y vocabulario, 5th ed., 3 vols., Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1976-80. Menéndez Pidal, Orígenes del español, 3rd ed., Madrid: Espasa Calpe, 1976. 168 Rodríguez Molina Montaner Frutos, Alberto (ed.), Cantar de mio Cid, Madrid: Real Academia Española, 2011. Montaner Frutos, Alberto, “Revisión textual del Cantar de mio Cid”, La Corónica 33.2 (2005), 137-93. Octavio de Toledo y Huerta, Álvaro S., Los relacionantes locativos en la historia del español, PhD dissertation (2013), Berlin: De Gruyter, 2016. Pellen, René, Review of Ubieto Arteta, El Cantar, Revue de Literature Romane 40 (1976), 241-57. Penny, Ralph, “Dialect Contact, Koineization, and the Language of the Poema de Mio Cid”, in Alan D. Deyermond, David G. Pattison and Eric Southworth (eds.), “Mio Cid” Studies: “Some Problems of Diplomatic” Fifty Years On, Papers of the Medieval Hispanic Research Seminar, 42, London: Queen Mary, 2002, pp. 91-102. Rodríguez Molina, Javier, “A minimis incipe: problemas lingüísticos en el códice y en las ediciones del Poema de mio Cid”, in Juan Carlos Conde and Amaranta Saguar (eds.), El Poema de mio Cid y la épica medieval castellana: nuevas aproximaciones críticas, London: Queen Mary, University of London, 2015, pp. 55-129. Sánchez-Prieto Borja, Pedro, “¿Rimas anómalas en el Auto de los Reyes Magos?”, Revista de Literatura Medieval 16.1 (2003), 149-219. Torreblanca, Máximo, “Sobre la fecha y el lugar de composición del Cantar de mio Cid (observaciones lingüísticas)”, Journal of Hispanic Philology 19 (1994-95), 121-64. Torrens Álvarez, María Jesús, Edición y estudio lingüístico del “Fuero de Alcalá” (Fuero viejo), Alcalá de Henares: Fundación Colegio del Rey, 2002. Ubieto Arteta, Antonio, El “Cantar de mio Cid” y algunos problemas históricos, Valencia: Anubar, 1973. Zaderenko, Irene, El monasterio de Cardeña y el inicio de la épica cidiana, Alcalá de Henares: Universidad de Alcalá, 2013. On the Arabic Loanwords in the Poema de mio Cid 169 Chapter 5 On the Arabic Loanwords in the Poema de mio Cid Federico Corriente Having been invited to participate in this Companion with a contribution on presumable traces of the Arabic heritage in the Poema de mio Cid (PMC), I accepted the challenge, re-read the almost forgotten text under consideration as well as some comments on its contents,1 and reached several conclusions, mostly expected, but also some rather surprising ones that are worthy of being offered to readers who might feel inclined to at least discuss them, even if they come from the pen of an outsider, more familiar with Semitics than with Romance studies.2 However, since the entire output of my endeavour turned out to be rather lengthy and, in some points, perhaps unfit for the intended purposes of this collective work, I have sought another more appropriate outlet in order to publish the entire work3 and extracted the more adequate core for inclusion in this volume. As for Arabic loanwords, strictly speaking and from the very start, nobody could reasonably expect many novelties, nor did I find them, in spite of using improved methodological tools, such as a deeper knowledge of Arabic dialectology and Andalusi Arabic (henceforth abridged as AA) developed in the last decades, which has prevented the frequent mistakes made by pioneers in these studies who, for instance, sometimes suggested etyma just culled from Classical Arabic dictionaries, very unlikely to have ever been used in Neo-Arabic or, at least, in AA, and therefore not suitable for borrowing by the Romance languages of the Iberian Peninsula through bilingual speakers.4 1 I have used Montaner’s recent edition, Cantar de mio Cid (2011), an extended version of his earlier edition of the same title (1993). 2 For some decades, I have spent considerable time surveying the presence of Arabic loanwords in Romance languages of the Iberian Peninsula in books as well as articles; see my Diccionario de arabismos (1999, 2nd ed. expanded with a supplement in 2003) and its revised English version, Dictionary of Arabic and Allied Loanwords (henceforth abridged as DAAL), both with updated bibliographies. 3 See Corriente, “Arabismos en el Cantar de Mío Cid: lexemas, remas y sistemas”. 4 See my corrections to the proposals put forward by the bright etymologist Joan Coromines in “Apostillas de lexicografía hispanoárabe” as well as “Nuevas apostillas de lexicografía hispanoárabe”, not to mention those produced by less knowledgeable scholars in this field, like M. Asín Palacios, despite being included for decades in the dictionaries of the Real Academia © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004363755_007 170 Corriente An exhaustive alphabetical list of the not too many true Arabic loanwords in the PMC would include the following items, of which only a few will deserve further detailed annotation in this essay: abés (PMC v. 582, “hardly” < AA la bás, see DAAL, p. 10), adágara (v. 727, “shield” < AA dárk/qa, see DAAL pp. 28-29), (a) fe and pronominal extensions (vv. 476, 485, 1316, 1335, 1597, 2038, 2175, 2947 “here it is” < AA ahá, see DAAL p. 327, s. v. “he”), aguazil (v. 749 “officer” < AA wazír, see DAAL p. 39), albricia (v. 14 “reward for good news” < AA albíšra, see DAAL p. 65), alcácer (v. 1220 “castle” < AA qáṣr, see DAAL p. 70), alcalde (v. 3135 “judge” < AA qáḍi, see DAAL p. 71), alcándara (v. 4 “falcon perch; rack” < AA kándara, see DAAL p. 76), alcáyaz (v. 1503 “commander” < AA qáyid, see DAAL pp. 72-73), alevoso (v. 3362 “treacherous” < AA ʿáyb, see DAAL p. 95, s.v. “aleive”), alfaya (v. 2116 “precious object” < AA háyya, see DAAL p. 106), algara (v. 442 “raid” < AA ġára, see DAAL p. 117), almoçalla (v. 182 “tapestry” < AA muṣálla, see DAAL p. 153), almofalla (v. 1124 “army camp” < AA muḥálla, see DAAL p. 139), alvorozes (v. 2649 “joy” < AA burúz, see DAAL p. 67), arriazes (v. 3178 “hilt of a sword” < AA riyás, see DAAL p. 195), arrobdas (v. 658) and arrobdando (v. 1261 “guard duty” < AA rútba, see DAAL p. 196), atalaya (v. 1673 “watchman” < AA ṭaláya‘ “high view-point”, see DAAL p. 204), atamores (v. 698 “drums” < AA ṭanbúr, see DAAL p. 448), axuvar (v. 1650 “trousseau” < AA šuwár, see DAAL p. 42, s.v. “aixovar”), azémilas (v. 2705 “beasts of burden” < AA zámila, see DAAL p. 18, s.v. “acémila”), belmezes (v. 3073 “jacket beneath armor” < AA malbás, see DAAL p. 463, s.v. “velmez”), çaga (v. 452 “rearguard” < AA sáqa, see DAAL p. 470, s.v. “zaga”), ciclaton (v. 3090 “silken fabric” < AA siqlaṭún, see DAAL p. 265), escarín (vv. 3094 and 3493, < AA iškaríyah “luxurious fabric”), evad(es) (vv. 253, 2124, 2326 “here you have” < AA hahúwwa, see DAAL p. 327, s.v. “he”), guadalmeci or guadameci (vv. 87, 88 “embossed tanned leather” < AA ġadama/isí, see DAAL pp. 317-18), fata (vv. 498, 1148, 1227, 1380, 1485, 1679, 2416, 2620, 2823) and fasta (vv. 1732, 2770, and 3336 “until” < AA ḥattá, see DAAL p. 201, s.v. “ata”), maquila (v. 3380 “grain given as payment to the miller” < AA makíla, see DAAL pp. 36566), mesquino (v. 849 “pauper” < AA miskín, see DAAL p. 378), moncluras (v. 3652),5 rebata (vv. 468 and 2295) and arrebata (v. 562, “surprise attack” < AA ribáṭ, see DAAL p. 416, s.v. “ravata”), reyal (v. 2178 “camp” < AA raḥál, see DAAL Española; regarding this, see my article, prepared at the request of this very institution, “Hacia una revisión de los arabismos y otras voces con étimos del romance andalusí” and “Algunas ‘palabras fantasma’ o mal transmitidas entre los arabismos”. See also my comparative study, “Las etimologías árabes en la obra de Joan Coromines”, reprinted as “Los arabismos del iberorromance entre Asín y Coromines”. 5 This is the name of the helm strap. This unusual item, which had never been etymologized until now, might reflect an AA minqál “base”, to which the frequent instrumental Romance suffix {+úra} would have been attached. On the Arabic Loanwords in the Poema de mio Cid 171 pp. 192-93, s.v. “arraial”), xamed (v. 2208 “a fabric of silk and gold” < AA šamíṭ, see DAAL p. 337, s.v. “jamete”), ya (vv. 7, 41, 155, 175, 330, 1528, 2026, 2780, 3045, 3263, 3377 “o” < AA yá, see DAAL p. 467). To this list we could add some place names of Arabic origin, namely, Albarrazín (v. 2645, < AA abán razín “Razin’s son”), Alcalá (v. 4464 < AA alqaláʿa “the fortress”), Alcocer (v. 554 < AA alquṣáyyar “the small castle”), Alfama (v. 551 < AA alḥámma “the thermal spring”), Alucant (v. 950 < AA alʿuqáb “the hill”), Calataut (v. 572 < AA qaláʿat ayyúb “Ayyub’s fortress”), Guadalfajara (v. 479 < AA wád alḥaǧára “boulder river”), and Medina(celi) (vv. 1382, 1391, 1451, 1453, 1494, 1542, 1547, 1824, 2535, 2640, 2645, 2654, and 2877 < AA madínat sálim “Salim’s town fortress”). We could also add preRoman items transmitted through Arabic or masked as if they were Arabic, like Fariza (v. 573 < AA ḥaríza) and Ateca (v. 553 < AA ʿatíqa), as well as the personal names Mafómat (v. 730 < AA ma/uḥámmad), Abengalvón (v. 1529 < AA abán ġalibún), Bucar (v. 2314 < AA abu bakár), and Vanigómez (v. 3444 < AA bani qúmis “the count’s sons”).6 On the other hand, there is probably no need to reject again the infelicitous proposal deriving the hero’s most renowned epithet of Cid (<AA sid “lord”) from Classical Arabic sīd “lion; wolf”,7 as such an item never occurred in AA, thus violating the just mentioned elementary rule requiring coincidence in time, place, and register for any etymological proposal to be viable. But some comments might be in place about several other items, like, in PMC v. 41, the analytical and optional vocative mark ya, which appears not only in front of Cid (vv. 268, 439, 2027, and 2361b ) and his epithets (for example, Campeador in 6 For further etymological information, consult the aforementioned Diccionario de arabismos, and its English version, Dictionary of Arabic and Allied Loanwords. However, in the case of the place name Amor, it should be explained that it is a corrupted form from the Arabic personal name Ḥammūd, according to Terés, “Antroponimia hispanoárabe”, p. 168. As for Celfa (= Cella), this place name is a mere metathesis of *Cefla, a normal Castilian reflex, not an Aragonese form from AA assáhla, a well-known designation of the planes around Albarracín. 7 This proposal was put forward by Epalza, “El Cid = el león: ¿Epíteto árabe del Campeador?”, as a sequel to Ṭ A. Makki, Malḥamatu ssīd: awwalu malḥamatin andalusiyyatin kutibat fi lluġati lqaštāliyyah [The epic poem of the Cid, first Andalusi epic poem written in Castilian]. Since neither author was a linguist, let alone an etymologist, it is only natural that they took mere phonetic and semantic likeness for an etymon and forged a case for the likelihood that Rodrigo Díaz was occasionally called “the lion” by his troops, with total disregard for historical and dialectological evidence. Curiously enough, the Cid was indeed labeled as sab‘ “beast of prey” and asad “lion” in the “Elegy for Valencia” by Alwaqqašī (see my paper “De nuevo sobre la elegía árabe de Valencia”, pp. 335 and 337; and also Montaner, “De don Rodrigo Díaz al Cid: el surgimiento de un mito literario”, pp. 94 and 97). But nothing suggests that this would have been more than a raging outburst by the rather learned Muslim author of this curious and much discussed poem, which neither Ṭ A. Makki nor Epalza knew. 172 Corriente v. 41, 71, and 175), but also in an ordinary, apparently functionalized manner in v. 3045: ya rey “o king”, v. 330: ya Señor “My lord”, v. 155 and v. 189: ya don Rachel e Vidas, v. 1528: ya Abengalvón, v. 2780: ya primas “o female cousins”, v. 3377: ya varones “o men”, v. 3263: ya canes “you, dogs”, which suggests the full-fledged status of this borrowed morphological item, even at the lowest structural level of introductors and fragments, and this in spite of the fact, pointed out by Coromines,8 that its presence in some medieval Castilian texts usually responds to the aesthetic purpose of suggesting a Moorish atmosphere, never having become a standard Castilian word. To finish with Eastern loanwords in the PMC, upon carefully perusing the poem, I was struck by the fact that no previous scholar appears to have commented on the peculiar fizieras barnax in v. 3325, simply stating that it meant “to perform a feat”, as is clear from the context. In my view, this hapax can only contain a reflex of Hebrew barnāš “someone, somebody”, of Aramaic origin and ultimately a calque from Pahlavi, as I explain in the extended version of this paper.9 At some point, possibly in connection with the reception in a Jewish milieu of the Christian interpretation of that idiom as an epithet applied to Christ (the Man’s Son), it acquired the negative connotation of “braggart”,10 betrayed by its borrowing in Moroccan Arabic as bǝrnǝš ʿala “to brag”, likely to have been introduced there by the Jews expelled from Spain and Portugal at the end of the 15th century. The rarity of such an item, as well as other clues that point in the same direction,11 can hardly be construed but as proof that 8 9 10 11 Corominas and Pascual, Diccionario crítico etimológico castellano e hispánico, vol. VI, p. 9. Corriente, “Arabismos en el Cantar de Mio Cid”, pp. 106-08. As noted by my colleague Alberto Montaner, Menéndez Pidal, in his editio maior’s glossary, related barnax with the forms barnaga/e ~ bernage found in other 13th-century documents, which clearly derived from French (from barun “varón”). The word had, among others, the meaning “hazaña” (exploit), that fits in the poem’s context. At the same time, the voiceless form of -g(e) becoming –x would be an effect of apocope, well documented in the PMC: of < ove, nuef < nueve, etc. (Menéndez Pidal, Cantar de mio Cid, vol. II, p. 499). However, the rarity of the term, the problematic phonetic evolution of the word with loss of the pretonic – which did not occur in baronía, for example –, and the Hebrew and Moroccan Arabic data – languages unknown to Menéndez Pidal –, could indicate that the Semitic hypothesis is correct. Possibly through idioms similar to those in English like “being somebody”, “believing to be somebody”, etc. For example, the strange replacement of the historical names of Rodrigo’s daughters, Cristina and María, with Elvira and Sol, both common among the Toledan Mozarabs, considering that Christ and Christine might have displeased a Jew’s ears, even in the case of a convert from Judaism to Christianity, a frequent process that often was not sincere throughout the ages. Incidentally, the presence of Jewish jongleurs at the time and in On the Arabic Loanwords in the Poema de mio Cid 173 the author of the text we have was or had been a Jew, or at least was conversant with a Jewish idiolect of Castilian commonly used at the time in the Iberian Peninsula containing occasional loanwords from Hebrew, as was usual in all Judaeo-languages. As for other obvious traces of the Arabic and Islamic heritage – historically so frequent in every aspect of Hispanic culture and everyday life,12 despite fre- 12 those areas is proven by witnesses, such as the case studied by J.R. Magdalena, “Delitos y ‘calònies’ de los judíos valencianos en la segunda mitad del siglo XIV (1351-1384)”, in which Johana the jongleur must pay a fine for bigamy. The Spanish historian and theologian José Hernando Pérez has just published a book, Pedro Abad – Mair Yahya ben Gâlib: El cantor del “Mio Cid”, defending with strong arguments, if not definitively proving, that the author of the PMC was a Toledan Mozarab who bore both Romance and Arabic names. This man appears to have had a long and brilliant career serving the Castilian King Alfonso VIII and the Toledan archbishop, in circumstances that make him the most likely candidate to having authored the poem. Concerning the geographical background, I could not agree more with the proposal of this very skilled scholar; however, in his research there are some hints of Pero Abad’s Jewish origin that have been overlooked. For instance, the total absence of available information about his parents and forbears (p. 36); the rarity of the family name Mair among the Toledan Mozarabs (only two instances in Ferrando’s El dialecto andalusí de la Marca Media, pp. 226 >mayr< and 209 >aban mayūrī<, likely distortions of Latin maior, but more likely masking the Hebrew Meʾir); and finally, the curious fact that his services were never acknowledged with a bishopric he deserved but was never granted to him, probably because of his origin, which was not unknown to the hierarchy. Such peculiar features of his personality suggest that he was one of the many Jews who converted to Christianity in those days and lands, and often even entered the ranks of priesthood in the Catholic Church, in order to improve their status and prospects of a better life. This required the disguising of their ancestry through the adoption of Christian names, especially those that were less unpleasant to Jewish ears, such as Peter, Mark, John, etc. This had been a common practice several centuries earlier under Islamic rule; Mair Yaḥya Ibn Ġālib might have been a former entirely Hebrew name Meʾir Yoḥanan, before requiring a complete change to Pero Abad when the city fell into Castilian hands. It is no less significant the scarce mention of Christ and Mary in the PMC, compared with the frequency of appearances of the name of God, usually referred to as the Creator, which complied with the Jewish prohibition of the direct utterance of God’s name. Pero Abad’s case is parallel to those of Diego de Guadix and Pedro de Alcalá in the 16th century, both of whom were priests of unknown origin serving the church efficiently and reaching only relatively high offices. See my comments on Alcalá’s Hebrew entries in El léxico árabe andalusí según P. de Alcalá, p. ii; in the case of Guadix, see my review of the edition of his materials in “Notas lingüísticas acerca de la Recopilación de algunos nombres arábigos de Diego de Guadix”, p. 101, with some testimonies of his unexpected familiarity with Hebrew. I have published some research on this subject, including folk songs, lullabies, and foul language; see “Expresiones bajo tabú social en árabe andalusí y sus relaciones con el romance” and “Arabismos en la cultura popular española”. 174 Corriente quent and passionate denials by nationalists, both educated and laymen –, there are many, although they are often downed in the garb of Romance words and phrases that have caught the attention of scholars in many instances. Such is the case of allusions to the belief in auguries (vv. 11-12);13 the mention of gifts at the conclusion of some deals, like the loan Rodrigo fraudulently obtained from the Jews Rachel and Vidas (vv. 175 and 190);14 the assignation of one fifth of the war booty to the army commander (vv. 492, 805, 1806, and 2487-89); the battle strategy of feigned flight (v. 575);15 the hero’s battle cry (v. 720); the presence of women in battle who encourage the warriors from afar (v. 1641); the promise of Paradise to those killed in Holy War (vv. 1704-05); and the praise of honor acquired by one’s deeds and not by mere inheritance (v. 3720).16 In other instances, such influences have not been detected so far, to the best of my knowledge, for example, giving thanks to God even, and particularly, when one is struck by misfortune (vv. 8 and 2839); the usual payment for safe-conduct through foreign lands (v. 1480); the epithet “house” attached to some town names, like “Valencia […] la casa” (v. 1232), “Deyna la casa” (v. 1161), and “Terrer la casa” (v. 571);17 the marriage broker (v. 2080), the dowry (vv. 2564-65), and other characteristically Islamic traditions surrounding the betrothal, the wedding, and their celebration. However, the most significant finding of my exploration of this old Castilian poem has been the detection of a metrical structure akin to that of Berceo’s poetry, the Libro de Buen Amor, and Galician and Portuguese Cantigas, with recurrence of hemistich partition in octosyllabic or heptasyllabic verses, and more or less rudimentary rhymes and stanzaic schemes. These traits are not found in Classical Latin verse nor could they have derived from its models, but it is common in AA stanzaic poems (muwaššaḥāt and azǧāl), which are in turn the final result of the evolution of Eastern Arabic prosody through the development of tasmīṭ – the internal rhyming of an otherwise one-rhyme poem 13 14 15 16 17 This matter has been recently reconsidered by Montaner in “Tal es la su auze: El héroe afortunado del Cantar de mio Cid”, suggesting a functional relationship between Old Castilian auze (“good luck”, lit. “bird”) and Islamic barakah, because of their association with God’s will. In both cases, and perhaps as an isomorphism, pagan beliefs in omens might have survived thanks to a re-adaptation to the concept of divine providence. See albaroque and alifara in my etymological dictionaries. Called tornafuye in Castilian, a makeshift translation of Arabic karr(un) wafarr. See ʿAbdalbadīʿ, La épica árabe y su influencia en la épica castellana; Galmés, Épica árabe y épica castellana and La épica románica y la tradición árabe; Marcos Marín, Poesía narrativa árabe y épica hispánica and his edition of Cantar de Mio Cid, pp. 20, 44-45, 46, etc. Cf. the Arabic Dāru ssalām, first said of Baghdad, and later on applied to the well-known coastal city in East Africa, Dāru lbayḍāʾ “Casablanca” in Morocco, etc. On the Arabic Loanwords in the Poema de mio Cid 175 – and the conversion of quantitative to accentual rhythm in Al-Andalus, as I have demonstrated in my editions of the local production of Andalusi poets.18 Aware that such a conclusion is not going to be easily accepted by traditionally-minded Romanists, even after a perusal of the additional evidence provided in the extended version of this article,19 I cannot refrain from expressing my conviction that the oldest poetry of the Iberian Peninsula, like a sizable part of its entire cultural frame during the High Middle Ages, did not develop in the minds of creative clerks merely inspired by Latin models, who were totally alien to the strong and bright cultural irradiation from Al-Andalus between the 10th and 12th centuries. Instead, I am inclined to believe that the strophic and metrical models used by Muslims and Jews in Al-Andalus, as reflected in their poems in Classical Arabic (muwaššaḥāt) and AA (azǧāl), in Hebrew (Sephardic verse, strophic or not), and partially in the Romance portions of some ḫaraǧāt, were carried Northward over the border by minstrels of either of the three religions. It first took the rather rudimentary shape reflected in the frequent syllabic miscounts of PMC, and some time later in the perfect azǧāl composed by the Arcipreste de Hita and the authors of the cantigas. Berceo, however, remained perhaps a more faithful imitator of those earlier minstrels whose compositions were closer to the structures of the qaṣāʾid zaǧaliyyah, even incorporating their shortcomings.20 The first quatrain of PMC reads, De – los – sos – ó-jos tan / fuér-te-mién-tre-llo-ran-do = xxxó xó / óxóx xóx tor-ná-va- la- ca-bé-ça / e+es-tá-va-los- ca-tán-do = xóxx xóx / xóxx xóx Ví-o- puér-tas- a-biér-tas / e- ú-ços- sin- ca-ñá-dos = óxóx xóx / xóxx xóx al-cán-da-ras- va-zí-as / sin- pié-lles- e- sin- mán-tos = xóxx xóx / xóxx xóx (vv. 1-4) 18 19 20 See Corriente, Poesía dialectal árabe y romance en Alandalús. This metrical proposal has obscure aspects that I do not deny, for example, the effect of the so-called muġālaṭah or “cumplimiento óptico” (visual compliance), invariably observed in classical Neo-Persian and Turkish poetry, although both languages did not have a quantitative rhythm. This suggests that classical Andalusi poets worked in this form, like late-Latin poets, and that common people started to ignore it, since it was not pertinent phonologically. These could allow us to distinguish between educated poets who followed the muġālaṭah, and more popular ones who only took into consideration the syllabic-accentual cadence. I do not have any reason to doubt that the second version was the one that reached the North of the Iberian Peninsula. Corriente, “Arabismos en el Cantar de Mío Cid”, pp. 130-41. Regarding this technical term, see my article “Textos andalusíes de casidas dialectales (impropiamente llamadas cejelescas)”. 176 Corriente Is it a coincidence that it looks so much like a variant of a dimetrical raǧaz, in Arabic notation mustafʿilun faʿū(lun), with optional substitution of fāʿilātun for the first foot, and reduction of the second one in other parts of the poem to two syllables?21 No less striking is its unsuspected similarity to the model of Hebrew imitations of AA muwaššaḥ, like Ṭodros Abulʿāfiyah’s poem in raǧaz metre (mustafʿilun ma[ f ]ʿūlun / ma[ f ]ʿūlun): éš- no-dǝ-kém- do-dáy- bi / qa-daḥ-tém = óxxó xóx xxó ub-nas-‘ă-kém- et- lib-bí- la-qaḥ-tém, = xxxó xxó xxó ak- hay-yǝ-qód- tok- lib-bí / hin-naḥ-tém. = xxxó xxó xxó moq-dé- qǝ-ra-báy- kab-bú / ki- hin-né = xóxx óxó xxó éš- han-nǝ-du-dím- tu-qád / wat-tib-ʿár = óxxx óxó xxó22 The situation is the same in Berceo’s poetry produced in the 13th century, since the very first stanza of his Vida de San Millán de la Cogolla, which can be scanned without any trouble as mustafʿilun or fāʿilātu + faʿū(lun) or faʿilun, i.e., raǧaz, madid, or a combination of both, without any need of “Mussafia’s law”, as follows: Quí- la- ví-da- qui-sié-re / de- sánt- Mi-llán- sa-bér = óxóx xóx / xóxó xó e- de- la- sú- his-tó-ria / bien- cer-tá-no se-ér = xxxó xóx / óxóx xó Mé-ta- mién-tes- e-n+ és-to / que- yo- quié-ro le-ér: = óxóx xóx / xxóx xó Ve-rá- a-dó- em-bí-an / los- pué-blos- só- a-vér = xóxó xóx / xóxó xó Up to the last stanza, Berceo is closer to the dimetric raǧaz (mustafʿilun faʿūlun): Gon-zál-vo- fué- so- nóm-ne / que- fí-zo éstʾ- tra-tá-do. = xóxó xóx / xóxó xóx En- Sant- Mi-llán- de- Sú-so / fué- de- ni-ñéz- crï-á-do, = xxxó xóx / óxxó xóx na-tu-rál- de- Ver-cé-o / óndʾ- sant- Mi-llán- fue- ná-do, = xxóx xóx / óxxó xóx 21 22 In connection, perhaps, with the so-called Mussafia’s law. “My friends, you lit in me the fire of your absence: / with your departure you took away my heart, / and set fire inside my heart: / put it out, you who have burnt my entrails, for / the flames of absence are ablaze and burning”. On the Arabic Loanwords in the Poema de mio Cid 177 Dios- guár-de- la- su- ál-ma / del- po-dér- del- pecádo. = xóxx xóx / xxóx xóx If we turn now, in order to diversify the samples, to the 14th-century Libro de Buen Amor, which was described as predominantly using the “cuaderna vía alejandrina” by such a thorough scholar like Coromines, upon scanning its first quatrain, we find a metrical sequence of mustafʿilun or fāʿilātu + faʿūlun or faʿilun: “Se-ñor – Diós – que a – los – ju-diós, – pué – blo – de – per-di-ci-ón” (= xxóx xxó / óxxx xxó). However, in quatrain 47 (“the dispute between Greeks and Romans”, p. 93 of Coromines’ edition), the octosyllables are sequences of two feet, mustafʿilun or fāʿilātun: “as-sí – fue- que – los – romá-nos / nin-gú-nas – lé-yes a-ví-en” (= xóxx xxóx / xóxó xxóx), which holds good for the rest of the work, in lines of one or two hemistichs and in single-rhymed or stanzaic structures. The same applies to the 13th and 14th-century “cantigas de amigo”,23 as we can see in composition number one by Fernán Rodríguez de Calheiros, which is a rather correct trimetric raǧaz (mustafʿilun mustafʿilun faʿūlun): Per-du-d’ ei, – ma-dre, cui-d’ eu, – meu – a-mi-go (= xóxó xóxx xóx) ma-car- m’el – viu, sol – non- quis – fa-lar- mi-go (= xóxó xxóx xóx) e – mha – so-ber-vha- mho- to-lheu (= xxxó xxxó) que- fiz- o- que- m’el- de-fen-deu (= xóxx xxxó)24 The comparison of these metrical structures with those of Ibn Quzmān’s azǧāl, for example number 17, a dimetrical raǧaz = mustafʿilun faʿū(lun): ya- ǧáw-ha-r al-ǧa-lá-la / ya- fáḫ-r a-lan-da-lús = xóxx xóx / xóxx xó ṭúl- ma- nu-kún bi-ǧá-hak / las- naš-ta-kí- bi-bús = óxxó xóx / xxxó xó25 or with the trimetrical raǧaz (mustafʿilun mustafʿilunfaʿūlun, with alternancy in the last foot of mustafʿilun with faʿūlun or mafʿūlun), used in the 9th century by Ḥafṣ b. Albar Alqūṭī in his translation of the Psalms, for example line 1: bismi 23 24 25 See Cohen (ed.), 500 Cantigas d’amigo. These poems have a zajal-like structure with a single hemistich in meters of two or three feet. “Poor me, mother, I have lost my friend: / he would not talk to me, though he saw me; / my haughtiness sent him away from me, / as I did what he had forbidden me”. “Essence of majesty, glory of Al-Andalus! / As long I stay under your aegis, I shall not decry any evil”. 178 Corriente l’ilāhi ḫāliqi lǧamīʿī / alwāḥidi lmuqtadiri lbadīʿī,26 makes it difficult to deny the existence of a chronological link between Arabic meters adapted in Al-Andalus as early as the 9th century and reflected by those rudimentary raǧaz poems, the proto-azǧāl, Andalusi stanzaic poetry, and the oldest samples of Castilian and Galician-Portuguese poetry – whether lyric or epic – probably borrowed from Andalusi minstrels of any of the three religions, whose presence in the entire Iberian Peninsula is quite well documented. In my view, Nykl was quite right when he wrote: “If the Franks of Spain and of France could imitate the Muslims in warfare, dress and other habits, it is idle to deny that they imitated them in music and singing”.27 Therefore, nobody can be surprised by the adoption in the Christian West – which, at the time, was quite below the cultural level of the Islamic World – of the metrical system accepted by the most cultivated segments of contemporary Jewry and Iranians, thus swallowing large chunks of religious or nationalistic pride.28 As matters stand, I would not define the PMC as a “frontier song”, as some scholars have done, but as a Castilian tip of a huge sunken iceberg in which Eastern materials were much more abundant than what is usually admitted. Works Cited ʿAbdalbadīʿ, Luṭfīʿ, La épica árabe y su influencia en la épica castellana, Santiago de Chile: Instituto Chileno-Árabe de Cultura, 1964. Cohen, Rip, ed., 500 cantigas d’amigo, Porto: Campo das Letras, 2003. Corominas, Joan (Joan Coromines), ed., Juan Ruiz, Libro de buen amor, Madrid: Gredos, 1967. Corominas, Joan (Joan Coromines), and José Antonio Pascual, Diccionario crítico etimológico castellano e hispánico, 6 vols., Madrid: Gredos, 1980-91. 26 27 28 “In the name of God, Creator of everything / Unique, powerful, and sublime”. The quote is from his trend-setting Hispano-Arabic Poetry and its relations with the Old Provençal troubadours, p. 381. The list, however, could readily be expanded to include the decimal numeral system, the compass, paper making, bills of exchange and paper money, gunpowder, etc., which the West would in turn carry to perfection and take advantage of in order to subdue the rest of the world in the following centuries. In the parallel case of Italian poetry, our colleague J.C. Vegliante has followed a mental path quite akin to mine; he has exchanged some ideas with me about this subject and has published his interesting conclusions in “Quasimodo (et Cielo d’Alcamo), hypothèse andalouse”, which he kindly shared with me before publication. On the Arabic Loanwords in the Poema de mio Cid 179 Corriente, Federico, “Nuevas apostillas de lexicografía hispanoárabe (al margen del Diccionari etimològic i complementari de la llengua catalana de Joan Coromines)”, Sharq al-Andalus 1 (1984), 7-14. Corriente, Federico, “Apostillas de lexicografía hispanoárabe”, in Actas de las II Jornadas de cultura árabe e islámica (1980), Madrid: Instituto Hispano-Árabe de Cultura, 1985, pp. 119-62. Corriente, Federico, “Nuevas apostillas de lexicografía hispanoárabe (al margen del Diccionari etimològic i complementari de la llengua catalana de Joan Coromines)”, Sharq al-Andalus 3 (1986), 163-65. Corriente, Federico, “De nuevo sobre la elegía árabe de Valencia”, Al-Qanṭara 8 (1987), 331-46. Corriente, Federico, El léxico árabe andalusí según P. de Alcalá: (ordenado por raíces, corregido, anotado y fonémicamente interpretado), Madrid: Departamento de Estudios Árabes e Islámicos, Universidad Complutense, 1988. Corriente, Federico, “Expresiones bajo tabú social en árabe andalusí y sus relaciones con el romance”, Vox Romanica 52 (1993), 282-91. Corriente, Federico, “Hacia una revisión de los arabismos y otras voces con étimos del romance andalusí o lenguas medio-orientales en el Diccionario de la Real Academia Española”, Boletín de la Real Academia Española 76-267 (1995), 53-118; 76-268 (1996), 153-95; and 76-269 (1996), 371-415. Corriente, Federico, “Textos andalusíes de casidas dialectales (impropiamente llamadas cejelescas)”, Al-Andalus-Magreb 4 (1996), 11-26. Corriente, Federico, Poesía dialectal árabe y romance en Alandalús, Madrid: Gredos, 1997. Corriente, Federico, “Algunas ‘palabras fantasma’ o mal transmitidas entre los arabismos y voces de origen oriental del DRAE”, in Estudios árabes dedicados a D. Luis Seco de Lucena, Granada: Universidad de Granada, 1999, pp. 93-100. Corriente, Federico, “Las etimologías árabes en la obra de Joan Coromines”, in L’obra de Joan Coromines, Sabadell: Caixa de Sabadell, 1999, pp. 67-87 (repr. as “Los arabismos del iberorromance entre Asín y Coromines”, in Antoni M. Badia i Margarit and Joan Solà (eds.), Joan Coromines, vida y obra, Madrid: Gredos, 2008, pp. 436-81). Corriente, Federico, Diccionario de arabismos y voces afines en iberorromance, Madrid: Gredos, 1999; 2nd ed., enlarged with a supplement, 2003. Corriente, Federico, “Notas lingüísticas acerca de la Recopilación de algunos nombres arábigos de Diego de Guadix”, Estudios de Dialectología Norteafricana y Andalusí 9 (2005), 93-114. Corriente, Federico, Dictionary of Arabic and Allied Loanwords: Spanish, Portuguese, Catalan, Galician and Kindred Dialects, Leiden – Boston: Brill, 2008. Corriente, Federico, “Arabismos en la cultura popular española”, in Fundación de Cultura Islámica: Artículos, 2011, <https://funci.org/arabismos-en-la-cultura-popular-espa nola/>. 180 Corriente Corriente, Federico, “Arabismos en el Cantar de Mío Cid: lexemas, remas y sistemas”, Voz y Letra 24.2 (2013), 99-145. Epalza, Mikel de, “El Cid = el león: ¿Epíteto árabe del Campeador?”, Hispanic Review 45.1 (1977), 67-75. Ferrando, Ignacio, El dialecto andalusí de la Marca Media: los documentos mozárabes toledanos de los siglos XII y XIII, Zaragoza: Área de Estudios Árabes e Islámicos, Universidad de Zaragoza, 1995. Galmés de Fuentes, Álvaro, Épica árabe y épica castellana, Barcelona: Ariel, 1978. Galmés de Fuentes, La épica románica y la tradición árabe, Madrid: Gredos, 2002. Hernando Pérez, José, Pedro Abad – Mair Yahya ben Gâlib: el cantor del “Mio Cid”, Burgos: Facultad de Teología del Norte de España, 2014. Magdalena, J.R., “Delitos y ‘calònies’ de los judíos valencianos en la segunda mitad del siglo XIV (1351-1384)”, Anuario de Filología (Barcelona) 2 (1976), 181-225. Makkī, Ṭāhir Aḥmad, Malḥamatu ssīd: awwalu malḥamatin andalusiyyatin kutibat fī lluġati lqaštāliyyah [The epic poem of the Cid, first Andalusi epic poem written in Castilian], Cairo: Dār Almaʿārif, 1970. Marcos Marín, Francisco, Poesía narrativa árabe y épica hispánica, Madrid: Gredos, 1971. Marcos Marín, Francisco, ed., Cantar de Mio Cid, Madrid: Alhambra, 1985. Menéndez Pidal, Ramón, ed., Cantar de mio Cid. Texto, gramática y vocabulario, revised ed., 3 vols., Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1944-46. Montaner, Alberto, ed., Cantar de mio Cid, Barcelona: Crítica, 1993; revised ed., Madrid: Real Academia Española, 2011. Montaner, Alberto, “De don Rodrigo Díaz al Cid: el surgimiento de un mito literario”, in Gonzalo Santonja, El Cid: historia, literatura y leyenda, Madrid: Sociedad Estatal España Nuevo Milenio, 2001, pp. 83-105. Montaner, Alberto, “Tal es la su auze. El héroe afortunado del Cantar de mio Cid”, Olivar 10 (2007), 89-105. Nykl, Alois Richard, Hispano-Arabic Poetry and Its Relations with the Old Provençal Troubadours, Baltimore: J.H. Furst Co., 1946 Terés, Elías, “Antroponimia hispanoárabe (reflejada por las fuentes latino-romances) (I)”, Anaquel de Estudios Árabes 1 (1990), 129-86. Vegliante, Jean-Charles, “Quasimodo (et Cielo d’Alcamo), hypothèse andalouse”, L’ospite integrato: rivista online del Centro Interdipartimentale di Ricerca Franco Fortini (November 1, 2013), <http://www.ospiteingrato.org/quasimodo-et-cielo-dalcamohypothese-andalouse/>. On the Arabic Loanwords in the Poema de mio Cid Part 3 Poetic Aspects and Structure ∵ 181 182 Corriente On the Poetic Technique of the Poema de mio Cid 183 Chapter 6 On the Poetic Technique of the Poema de mio Cid Juan Carlos Bayo Julve The principles of composition followed by the author of the Poema de mio Cid (PMC) constitute one of the most debated and controversial topics regarding this masterwork. There are several circumstances that make the task of explaining its versification especially difficult and prone to polemics. To begin with, the PMC has survived in a codex unicus, kept in the town hall of Vivar in the 16th century (Madrid, Biblioteca Nacional de España, Vitr. 7-17); according to its own explicit, it is a copy of an earlier manuscript written down by someone called Per Abbat in May 1207. There are no other direct witnesses to help scholars when they face difficult readings. In addition, we do not have any contemporary treatise dealing with rules for Castilian versification, if it really existed one at the time. Furthermore, there is the problem of finding similar texts for comparison. The corpus of cantares de gesta preserved in verse form is exceedingly small. We have only two other samples of what must have been the versification of vernacular epics in the Iberian Peninsula during this period: the Roncesvalles fragment and the Mocedades de Rodrigo. The extant Roncesvalles fragment consists of a bifolio containing a hundred lines (Pamplona, Archivo Real y General de Navarra, ms. 212). It tells of Emperor Charlemagne, who finds, after a search, Roland’s corpse following the Battle of Roncevaux, and mourns bitterly over his nephew’s body. This manuscript offers not only evidence of a Carolingian epic in the Iberian Peninsula, but also a glimpse that an entire cycle had already gained widespread diffusion. Charlemagne’s allusion in his speech to his youthful adventures in Spain points to a now lost epic poem narrating such deeds, the Mainete, the existence of which is supported by other sources. The bifolio’s thick parchment was evidently sewn on two sides to make a folder or purse-like container, and its borders’ excessive material was later trimmed. This trimming may have well eliminated any pre-existing numeration, which would have been a valuable clue about the original length of the manuscript. The poem was most likely copied in Navarre, probably around 1310, but it is difficult to pinpoint the date of its composition beyond an adscription to the 13th century, more tentatively to its first half. The other preserved epic poem is the Mocedades de Rodrigo, which recounts the legendary deeds of the young Cid. The extant text is much longer, about 1160 lines, but it is an incomplete copy in a manuscript written on paper around © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004363755_008 184 Bayo Julve 1400 (Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Espagnol 12, fols. 188r-201v), in which it is preceded by the Crónica de Castilla. The poem’s composition is usually dated to the mid-14th century, but most scholars agree that it is a late reworking of an earlier cantar de gesta. Although the Mocedades de Rodrigo is an invaluable document for tracing the development of the Cid legend, the Roncesvalles is far more significant for a comparison with the PMC as a witness of early epic versification.1 It should be added that several lost cantares de gesta must have circulated during this period, since some of them were used as historical sources in vernacular chronicles that began to be compiled during the reign of Alfonso X the Learned (1252-84). However, such prose renderings, the so-called prosificaciones cronísticas, must be approached with caution, as they transformed the materials that they incorporated. As far as the PMC is concerned, they are especially useful to elaborate well-informed hypotheses about the content of the Vivar codex’s missing leaves, but their utility is rather limited for a study of its versification.2 The remnants of Spanish epic poetry are in sharp contrast with the wealth of the French corpus, consisting of 297 manuscripts that have preserved some 120 chansons de geste. A closer look at both epic traditions reveals not only a difference in quantity, but also in quality. The codex of the PMC has lines of unequal length, and a rigorous examination reveals that syllabic regularity is not a feature of its verses, a trait that also applies to the fragment of Roncesvalles and the Mocedades de Rodrigo. This particular aspect stands out against the chansons de geste, composed in isosyllabic meters such as the décasyllabe or the alexandrin. In addition, French manuscripts typically offer their epic poems as texts composed by neatly divided laisses, i.e. closed series of verses of varying length bound together by the same assonance or rhyme. Such a division cannot be found in the Vivar codex nor does it appear in the manuscripts which have preserved the Roncesvalles fragment and the Mocedades de Rodrigo. When Tomás Antonio Sánchez, the first editor of the PMC and still one of the most perceptive critics of Spanish medieval literature, committed this epic to print in 1779 – about half a century before the Chanson de Roland (Oxford, 1 Editions of the Roncesvalles fragment, with preliminary studies, have been prepared by Menéndez Pidal, Jules Horrent, and Ian Michael in “Orígenes de la epopeya en España”. 2 The extant manuscript is wanting three leaves: one at the very beginning, and the other two between fols. 47-48 and 69-70. Recently, David Hook, “Verbal Economy”, pp. 105-07, has once again demonstrated the importance of the chronicles in this respect by showing that most probably they used a manuscript of the poem without the lacuna between fols. 47-48, contrary to the hypothesis that the passages corresponding to the two internal missing leaves of the Vivar codex were made up in a historiographical workshop. On the Poetic Technique of the Poema de mio Cid 185 Bodleian Library, Digby 23, Part 2) attracted the attention of scholars and merited its first printed edition in the 1830s –, he had no trouble whatsoever in appreciating the text as it had been transmitted in the Vivar codex, and it never entered his mind to alter the length of the verses or introduce divisions in the text as a matter of principle.3 This, however, turned out to be the auspicious beginning of a tortuous path. The PMC does not follow versification principles that soon would be canonized in the literary poetry of medieval Iberian Romances. French studies achieved pre-eminence in Romance philology during the second half of the 19th century, and the corpus of chansons de geste exercised a great influence on the views of scholars approaching the Castilian poem. The outcome was a combination of assumptions that led the editors of the PMC to produce reconstructions in double octosyllabes and/or laisses against the evidence provided by the only manuscript. The matter was further complicated in the 20th century with theories that saw the alleged flaws of the preserved text as symptoms of a faulty transcription of an oral composition. All this means that there are large discrepancies among the theories that have been formulated to explain Old Spanish epic versification. On close examination they often reveal a different understanding of how poetic language works (or a complete lack thereof). In this essay, I will attempt to sketch a theory of the versification system of the PMC focusing closely on the text as it has been transmitted by the codex unicus. As a rule, I will not give a crucial role to the assumption that textual corruption has caused extensive damage to its poetic form, but I will take into account the opinions of scholars who think otherwise. 1 The Verse and Its Composition The verse of the PMC consists of two hemistichs divided by a caesura. This metrical structure can be represented as follows: [V [α …] [β …] ] 3 “Pero en el poema del Cid no se guarda numero fixo y determinado de silabas, ni regla cierta de asonantes ni consonantes […]. El poeta baxo un asonante solia hacer mas de cien versos seguidos, sin desechar los consonantes que le ocurrian; y muchas veces admitia versos que ni asonaban ni consonaban” (Poema del Cid, ed. Tomás Antonio Sánchez, p. 222). 186 Bayo Julve The most basic principle of the PMC’s versification is that each metrical pause (caesura, line end) is matched by a prosodic pause.4 While it is not unusual in literature to refer to its verse structure in syntactic, or even in semantic terms, it is preferable to approach it in prosodic terms. Although prosodic parsing incorporates information from other linguistic components, especially from the syntactic structure, aspects such as constituent length play a more relevant role in prosody than in syntax, often producing different outcomes. Compare the syntactic and prosodic structures of line 2162: [[Seremos] [a las bodas [de los ifantes [de Carrión]]]] [[Seremos] [a las bodas]] [[de los ifantes] [de Carrión]] The caesura falls between bodas and de, not between seremos and a, that is to say, it is assigned according to the binary division of the verse in prosodic constituents, not in syntactic ones. The highest degree of correspondence between the metrical structure and the prosodic structure appears when the verse is formed by an utterance composed by two intonational phrases, each of them constituting a hemistich.5 From a cognitive perspective, it has been proposed that intonation units correspond to idea units, i.e. the amount of information on which focus can be kept in actual speech.6 Although a characterization of the PMC’s verse in prosodic terms remains preferable, this is evidence for a relationship between the prosodic and semantic structures that cannot be overlooked in a poem that was clearly conceived for oral delivery. This binary division according to prosodic principles is accompanied by an overall tendency for the prosodic constituents composing the two hemistichs of a given verse to be roughly equivalent in length. When they have different lengths, there is a tendency for the second to be longer than the first. This occurrence corresponds to a general linguistic principle governing the relationship between length and order, sometimes called the “law of increasing constituents” after a term proposed by Otto Behaghel (Gesetz der wachsenden 4 In order to avoid misunderstandings, I will reserve the terms prosody and prosodic to refer to the patterns of stress and intonation in a spoken language (i.e. to refer to its suprasegmental phonological features), while I will use metrics and metrical to refer to the structures of verse form. 5 Prosodic terminology varies depending on linguistic theories. Here, I follow one proposed by Nespor and Vogel in Prosodic phonology that is widely used. 6 See Matthew Bailey’s contribution to this volume. On the Poetic Technique of the Poema de mio Cid 187 Glieder): given two constituents, all other aspects being equal, the shorter precedes the longer.7 The fundamental principle of the PMC’s versification stated above, namely, that a metrical pause is always matched by a prosodic pause, precludes the occurrence of enjambment (the absence of a prosodic pause at the end of a verse). In addition, in the PMC there is a strong tendency not to reverse the hierarchy in the matching between metrical and prosodic pauses; in other words, the prosodic pause that appears in the caesura is not superior to the prosodic pause appearing at the line end. There are, however, occasional exceptions. Consider the following example: Sed buenos menssageros e ruego vos lo yo Que gelo digades al buen Campeador (1903-04) In line 1903, the prosodic pause appearing at the caesura is greater than the one at the line end, so its second hemistich forms part of a larger grammatical structure with the following verse. In this way, a higher tension than expected is introduced in the poetic discourse. This occurrence cannot be qualified as enjambment, since a prosodic pause does occur between the two lines involved. A suitable Spanish term for such a phenomenon is acoplamiento, since it causes a tighter linkage of both lines. Regarding the oral performance for which the PMC was intended, it means that a cadence cannot occur naturally at the end of the verse. Consequently, the effect of acoplamiento must have been far greater for a medieval audience than for modern readers. Beyond this, it can be asked whether constraints at lower prosodic levels operate within the verse, that is to say, whether it obeys to some kind of stress or syllabic count. Investigations into these levels have not yielded a convincing explanation of the versification of the PMC. This lack of results has puzzled scholars, since syllabic count is the more common type of metrical principle in the poetry of the Ibero-Romance languages. It is already attested in the Libro de Alexandre, a learned poem on the legend of Alexander the Great, which, though difficult to date, is roughly contemporary to the epic inspired by the Castilian hero. Unsurprisingly, it has been proposed that the PMC also was originally composed according to syllabic count. There are, however, strong objections against such a hypothesis. To begin with, there is the evidence of 7 It is also referred to as the fourth of Otto Behaghel’s laws, though its effects at some levels in Sanskrit grammar had already been studied in the 4th century bc by Pāṇini; see Otto Behaghel, “Beziehungen zwischen Umfang und Reihenfolge von Satzgliedern”, and Deutsche Syntax, vol. IV, pp. 3-9. 188 Bayo Julve the extant text. Menéndez Pidal calculated 987 lines that did not offer vowel contacts, with no doubtful cases of synaloepha and related phenomena, and found a great variety of combinations, the most frequent being 7+7 (15.19 per cent), 6+7 (12.15 per cent), 7+8 (11.34 per cent), 6+8 (9.32 per cent), 8+7 (8.20 per cent), and 8+8 (5.68 per cent).8 These figures mean that the PMC can only be made isosyllabic if a staggering number of unsupported emendations are introduced.9 In fact, even outside of the epic form (including the above-mentioned Roncesvalles fragment and the Mocedades de Rodrigo), there is a sizable corpus of contemporary poems featuring anisosyllabic versification, such as the Disputa del alma y el cuerpo, the Razón de amor, the Debate de Elena y María, or the Vida de Santa María Egipciaca. It has also been proposed as a criterion for emendation that no hemistich can have more than eleven syllables according to the rules usually applied in Spanish metrics, since a longer sequence would require a caesura.10 This is certainly true, but only as far as syllable-counting versification is concerned. Therefore, this cannot be applied to the PMC, in which longer second hemistichs occasionally occur, e.g., “¿Vaste, mio Çid? ¡Nuestras oraçiones vayante delante!” (v. 853). Although verses with final hemistichs of more than eleven syllables are few, there is no reason to assert that they correspond to corrupt readings unless further proof is provided. There are no grounds within articulatory phonetics to prevent enunciation of such hemistichs: sequences of seventeen syllables, with no pause in between, have been documented in the Spanish pregón.11 In fact, even the short fragment of Roncesvalles provides evidence of long final hemistichs (“que yazía esmorteçido el Emperante”, v. 95β), proving that there were no direct constraints on the number of syllables in Old Spanish epic versification. The evidence that the PMC’s verse is not based on syllabic regularity has pushed scholars to formulate other theories to explain its constitution. The obvious step that has been taken is to look for a system based on stress principles. To this end, several models have been advanced, the most detailed of which have proposed metrical structures of 2+2 or 4+4 stresses.12 As the mere disagreement about the number of stresses indicates, the objection against 8 9 10 11 12 See Menéndez Pidal, Cantar de Mio Cid, vol. I, pp. 92-103. The reader feeling intrigued about such a reconstruction is directed to Cantar de Mio Cid, ed. Juan Victorio, the last endeavour following a path already trodden by Jules Cornu and Henry R. Lang. See Cantar de Mio Cid, ed. Alberto Montaner, pp. 385-86, for this argument. See Antoni Rossell, “Le pregón”, p. 169. See René Pellen, “Le modèle du vers épique espagnol”, and William E. Leonard, “The Recovery of the Meter of the Cid”, for these attempts at 2+2 and 4+4 patterns, respectively. On the Poetic Technique of the Poema de mio Cid 189 such models is that they cannot be applied to the preserved text of the PMC without assuming an inordinate amount of textual corruption or a delivery style which makes much of the text incomprehensible. In fact, the Vivar codex presents a poem in which each verse has a variable number of natural stresses. My own calculations based on a sample of three hundred lines yield the following results: 2+2 (36.33 per cent), 2+3 (24.66 per cent), 3+2 (14.33 per cent), 3+3 (12.33 per cent), 1+3 (3.66 per cent), 2+4 (2.66 per cent), and 1+2 (2.33 per cent). A more exhaustive investigation would give a more accurate picture, and perhaps some appreciable differences. It suffices, however, to give us an idea about the great degree of flexibility offered by the versification of the PMC. Its verses offer less variation in the number of stresses than in the number of syllables, but this is only an effect of moving higher in the prosodic hierarchy. The already stated fact that each hemistich corresponds to an intonational phrase means that at least two primary stresses appear in each verse, the first immediately preceding the caesura and the second at the line end, the former being no more prominent than the latter except in cases of acoplamiento. Beyond this prosodic structure, the number of stresses is determined by the linguistic material, not by the metrical pattern. Other stresses can appear as well, and as a matter of course they do, but there is no evidence of any metrical constraint on them. To sum up, the two hemistichs within each verse usually contain the same or a similar number of stresses and syllables; in case of difference, there is a tendency for the second hemistich to be longer than the first. A calculation of the number of stresses per line shows 2+2 being the most common pattern, followed by 2+3; if syllables are counted, it is 7+7, followed by 6+7 and 7+8. Nevertheless, other combinations can be found. It must be emphasized that those figures are the result of the verse’s binary division into prosodic constituents, with both hemistichs being of the same hierarchical level. Such patterns are not determined by a metrical system of stress or syllabic count in the strict sense of the terms. The PMC poet had a large store of resources to draw from in order to implement such a metrical structure. The best known is the formula, a device widely used in heroic poetry traditions. It was defined by Milman Parry in his pathbreaking studies on Homeric versification of the late 1920s and early 1930s as “a group of words which is regularly employed under the same metrical conditions to express a given essential idea”;13 when such phrases appear with variations regarding one or several words, they are referred to as “formulaic 13 Milman Parry, “Studies in the Epic Technique”, p. 80 (p. 272 in repr.). See the Introduction to this volume for more details about the formulaic system in the PMC. 190 Bayo Julve expressions”. In the PMC, formulae and formulaic expressions often fill a hemistich, sometimes a whole line. However, its verse is very far from being a highly constrained structure such as the Greek dactylic hexameter, and the Castilian author does not resort to them to such an extent as the Homeric poems.14 In his work the proportion of formulae, or “formular density”, is also far below the usual in living oral traditions such as the Serbian singers of tales. The PMC was composed to be performed before an audience, hence its oral condition, but there is no proof that it was orally composed or improvised.15 The epic epithet, one of the most characteristic kinds of formulae used in heroic poetry, provides a good illustration of the complexity of the poem’s composition. This device can be defined as a descriptive or qualifying word or phrase which stands in apposition to or occurs in place of the name of an individual or a unique entity, reserved exclusively to a specific person or object as a rule. In the PMC, they are applied first and foremost to the hero, but also to his wife, his vassals and other characters, his horse, his swords, and places related to him. The Cid is often called el que en buen ora nasco (vv. 202, 245, 437, etc.) or el que en buen ora çinxo espada (vv. 875, 1574, 1961, etc.), but also Mio Çid el de Bivar (vv. 295, 550, 855, etc.) or la barva velida (with striking metonymy in v. 930). In the PMC such epic epithets are not used mechanically, for they are made to serve different functions in order to produce a variety of effects. Indeed, it has been convincingly argued that they are used in a more creative and refined way than in a learned work such as the abovementioned Libro de Alexandre.16 This phenomenon can also be observed in other kinds of formula, such as the so-called physical phrases, in which the part of the body performing an action is explicitly indicated, despite being logically redundant, e.g. lorar de los ojos or dezir de la su boca. Although apparently pleonastic, they are used to convey different shades of meaning. Thus, lorar de los ojos is crying with restraint, i.e. the character is deeply moved rather than trying to make a great show of grief, while dezir de la boca involves the idea that an unpalatable truth is reluctantly admitted. Equally characteristic of the PMC’s style is the use of binomials or word pairs with strong semantic links to build hemistichs and whole verses. Both 14 15 16 Formulae have played a role in the discussions about the original anisosyllabism of the PMC. Kenneth Adams, “The Metrical Irregularity”, observed that even formulaic lines offer a great variability in syllabic count; it can be added that they also show a great variability of stress patterns. See Juan Carlos Bayo, “On the Nature of the Cantar de Mio Cid”. See Ian Michael, “A Comparison of the Use of Epic Epithets”. 191 On the Poetic Technique of the Poema de mio Cid terms involved are linked either by synonymy and semantic similarity, or by antonymy and semantic contrast. In the first case, we find pairs linked by synonymy or near synonymy (e.g. grandes – sobejanos, v. 2541), hyperonymy (e.g. malos – traidores, v. 2681), or co-hyponymy (e.g. oro – plata, v. 473). Even more common are word pairs linked by antonymy or opposite meaning: they can be complementary pairs, formed by mutually exclusive or contradictory terms (e.g. mugieres – varones, v. 16b); relational opposites, or terms sharing the same semantic features but in converse relation (e.g. vassallo – señor, v. 2938), and gradable antonyms or scalar adjectives (e.g. ricos – menguados, v. 108). In addition, there are collocations, i.e. pairs of words expected to co-occur or go together (e.g. pan – vino, v. 66). Most important, the poet can switch between synonyms and antonyms by resorting to litotes (e.g. pesa – non plaze, v. 625). By combining these possibilities, he builds up a poetic discourse which is extremely close-knit from a semantic perspective. It allows him both to detain and to further the action, as can be seen in the two following examples: Venido es a moros, exido es de christianos (566) Él dexó la lança e al espada metió mano (3642) While many of those binomials or word pairs are attested in other texts and can be termed traditional, it is obvious that the author has internalized their connecting principles as to use them as a composition technique. In many cases it is difficult to determine which ones are inherited, and which are of his own making; any effort to draw a distinction between the two can become a futile exercise. We are facing, in short, an excellent example of a poet’s creation within a well-established tradition. 2 The Assonance and the Patterning of Poetic Discourse The PMC follows an assonance system built on twelve basic options, resulting from the combination between four stressed vowels (ó, á, í, é) and three unstressed vowels that can follow them (-e, -o, -a), as shown in the following table: (-e) -o -a í é (≃ié) á ó (≃ué) í(-e) í-o í-a é(-e) é-o é-a á(-e) á-o á-a ó(-e) ó-o ó-a 192 Bayo Julve These combinations are found in different proportions within the poem. The most common four, in decreasing order of frequency, are: ó(-e), -á(-e), á-o, and á-a, with ó(-e) appearing through long stretches accounting for more than one thousand lines. Combinations í-a, í-o, í(-e), é-a, é-o, ó-a, ó-o are less present, whereas é(-e) is found only in a small number of leonines (verses with rhyme or assonance within their own initial hemistich rather than with the contiguous lines, as in vv. 708, 2635, 3422) and of couplets (pairs of successive verses with the same rhyme or assonance, as in vv. 1071-72). It must be added that there is a noticeable tendency in the poem to resort to fewer combinations as it progresses. Parentheses have been used in the table above to indicate some alternations with a phonological foundation which can be found in the assonance. Diphthongs ué (< ŏ) and ié (< ĕ) co-occur with ó and é respectively (e.g. ençerró: aluén, vv. 2695-96; Peña Cadiella : Gujera, vv. 1164-65). This correlation is made possible by the fact that it corresponds to a diphthongization process that was productive at the time. There is also a less frequent correlation of ú with ó (e.g. Corpes : núes, vv. 2697-98).17 Regarding unstressed vowels, high vowels correspond to mid vowels, i.e. -i co-occurs with -e (e.g. plaze : nadi, vv. 1480-81). All these correlations appear only occasionally, which means that their accommodation, though possible, comes at a cost for the versification system. Nevertheless, similar cases are also documented sporadically in other early poetic works of Hispanic medieval literature, such as the Disputa del alma y el cuerpo, the Razón de amor, the Vida de Santa María Egipciaca, or the Debate de Elena y María. A far more common alternation to be found in the text transmitted by the Vivar codex is that paroxytonic words ending in -e can be in assonance with oxytonic words if they share the same stressed vowel. This is a phenomenon for which a phonological basis can be advanced, since /e/ is the unmarked (or underspecified) element in the vowel system of Castilian. A possible explanation for this alternation is that the PMC was originally conceived with a traditional device called paragogic -e, namely an unstressed -e added to oxytonic words at the end of the verses in order to adjust them to the singing cadence. This hypothesis rests on inference rather than evidence. Only two cases have been pointed out as possible survivals: laudare or alaudare (v. 335), 17 Menéndez Pidal, Cantar de Mio Cid, vol. I, pp. 142-46 and 244-47, tried to explain some of these assonances with the reconstruction of a diphthong *uó and some patronymics in -óz (e.g. *Vermudoz for Vermúez), which he introduced as emendations in his critical text. The outcome, however, was a number of linguistic forms undocumented in Castile during this period. On the Poetic Technique of the Poema de mio Cid 193 and Trinidade (v. 2370). The former also happens to be a Latinism, and this could account for the presence of -e; such an explanation does not work as well for the latter, which can be qualified as a semi-learned word at most. Last but not least, paragogic –e is well-documented not only in Spanish ballads (romancero viejo) and traditional lyric (cancionero tradicional), but also in the cantares de gesta, appearing most clearly in the Roncesvalles fragment. Its transmission in this epic lends support to the hypothesis that it was also present in the PMC, which is the most satisfactory explanation for the abovementioned alternation thus far advanced.18 However, this does not constitute a ground for the reconstruction of paragogic -e in a critical edition, a daunting task sometimes posing insurmountable problems and often yielding doubtful results.19 The patterning of the poetic discourse in the PMC has also been a matter of debate. As it has already been pointed out, it has often been assumed that the poem was structured in laisses as the chansons de geste. There are, however, a number of objections against such a hypothesis. To begin with, a division in laisses is displayed neither in the Vivar codex nor in the other witnesses preserving cantares de gesta, in stark contrast with French epic manuscripts. The PMC is composed in a typical cumulative or additive style, with parataxis 18 19 It was first developed by Amador de los Ríos (Historia crítica, vol. II, pp. 609-11). His ideas were initially adopted by Menéndez Pidal (Cantar de Mio Cid, vol. I, pp. 120-22), who later elaborated a new theory: beyond the function of paragogic -e as a singing license, he gave it an etymological origin and a slow spread by hypercorrection (Cantar de Mio Cid, vol. III, pp. 1177-84). Such an explanation, however, is highly improbable: even the earliest witnesses offer many non-etymological examples; it appears only at the end of the verses; and is a productive device typically found in popular poetry transmitted by singing, being conspicuously absent from learned compositions. The view that the -e at the end of lines 335 and 2370 is due to learned influence was elaborated by Horrent (Historia y poesía, pp. 227-31), and the hypothesis of the original presence of paragogic -e in the PMC was later criticized at length by Valentín García Yebra and Ana M. Gómez-Bravo. However, their alternative explanations are not so convincing. García Yebra suggests that final e in paroxytonic words at the end of the verse was either mute or weakened; the former, however, would result in syllabic structures that are ungrammatical in medieval Castilian, such as **colps or **partn, while the latter would presuppose the existence of an unstressed schwa [ə] or similar sound for which there is no evidence in medieval Castilian (by contrast, vacillations are found in manuscripts written in some Catalan dialects in which such a sound does exist, e.g. home / homa, or jove / jova). Gómez-Bravo argues that only the stressed vowel is determinant, thus enabling á(-e) to be in assonance with á-o and á-a; however, these operate as independent assonances in the PMC, and such an equivalence is unsupported by other examples within the corpus of Spanish poetry. See Ian Michael, “‘A cada uno lo suyo’”, on the problems involved by reconstruction. 194 Bayo Julve as a dominant feature. Its author, in fact, does not show much concern for introducing changes of assonance at approximately regular intervals. It should be added that applying the laisse as a criterion for emendation has proved to be inadequate. Editors resorting to such a notion not only introduce corrections in passages where there is no clear evidence of scribal error, but unnecessarily mend the preserved text with interventions which at times can even be ungrammatical. In order to overcome these shortcomings, an alternative explanation has been advanced, namely, deictic dissonance, a new concept that will contribute to a better understanding of the transmitted text.20 Deictic dissonance is defined as the contrast produced between the endings of two successive verses that are not connected by rhyme, with the function of pointing out a narrative transition. It can originate a succession of verses linked by the same assonance (i.e. the configuration usually termed a laisse), but it can also generate other patterns causing the original versification of the PMC to encompass couplets and versos sueltos (independent verses, often leonines), both of which frequently appear in the extant text as stand-alone units, making complete sense on their own. As an index, deictic dissonance can signal several kinds of shifts within the story: (1) the beginning of a new narrative sequence; (2) a change of focus; (3) the switch between narration and direct speech; (4) a change of speaker or hearer; (5) the inner articulation of a character’s discourse; and (6) nonsequential story-telling. There are other elements operating as indices in the PMC, which makes deictic dissonance appear often but not necessarily always in such contexts. However, its meaning becomes especially relevant in the absence of more explicit markers such as narrator indications, which were introduced occasionally when the epic poem was rendered into prose in the chronicles. Let us see an example. The Cid’s troops meet the Moorish army of Fáriz and Galve outside Alcocer (punctuation has been added, but no emendations have been introduced): Aquel Pero Vermúez non lo pudo endurar; la seña tiene en mano, conpeçó de espolonar: – ¡El Criador vos vala, Çid, Campeador leal! Vo meter la vuestra seña en aquella mayor az. ¡Los que el debdo avedes veremos cómmo la acorredes! Dixo el Campeador: – ¡Non sea, por caridad! (704-09) 20 See Juan Carlos Bayo, “Poetic Discourse Patterning”. On the Poetic Technique of the Poema de mio Cid 195 Pero Vermúez speaks in lines 706-08, but while in lines 706-07 he is talking to the Cid, in line 708 he addresses the Christian army. This shift is pointed out by a deictic dissonance in line 708: a leonine with grammatical rhyme -edes, implying an é(-e) assonance. Some editors emend acorredes into acorrades, but the outcome is an ungrammatical construction. Such an alteration involves a change of verbal mood to subjunctive, while in this clause only the indicative is possible (a very similar example can be found in line 2382). This is how the passage was rendered into prose in manuscript F of the Estoria de España:21 Mas a Pero Bermudes non gelo pudo adurar el coraçón, e aguijó adelante con la seña et dixo contra el Çid: “Mio Çid, Nuestro Señor Dios ayude a la vuestra lealtad, ca yo non puedo ý ál fazer e bo meter a la vuestra seña en aquella mayor haz e el más fuerte lugar que yo allí beo. Et dixo a todos así: “Amigos, los que devdo abedes en bien, agora veré cómmo acorredes a la seña”. Then, the Christian standard-bearer charges, and the Moors fight him to seize the banner. The Cid orders his soldiers to help him. The poet introduces a change of assonance in lines 715-18, in ó(-e), and gives a formulaic depiction of the charge (cf. vv. 3615-18). From this general perspective, a shift of focus to the hero ensues in line 719: A grandes vozes lama el que en buen ora nasco: – ¡Ferid los, cavalleros, por amor de caridad! ¡Yo só Ruy Díaz, el Çid Campeador de Bivar! (719-21) As it has been explained, line 719, in á-o, is a shift of focus, one of the typical contexts for the occurrence of deictic dissonance; thus, there is a change to direct speech so that lines 720-21 form a couplet in á(-e). After the quoted extract, the narrative voice takes over again with the general description of the battle, with lines 722-25 reverting to the assonance ó(-e). Deictic dissonance becomes especially significant in scenes of fast-paced dialogue. The PMC offers a comparatively low use of verba dicendi, sometimes a cumbersome device in an oral performance. Dialogues can appear only 21 Salamanca, Biblioteca Universitaria, ms. 2638, fol. 37v b. The ms. E (El Escorial, X-i-4, fol. 168r b) offers a slightly more elaborated version, whose most interesting variants are las compañas rather than todos (a more precise specification of the addressees) and acorreredes rather than acorredes (using the future indicative rather than the present indicative). See El “Mio Cid” del taller alfonsí, ed. Nancy Joe Dyer, p. 76 (cf. pp. 55-56 and 67). 196 Bayo Julve punctuated by deictic dissonances, turning it into a staged text. In the following passage, Martín Antolínez, one of the Cid’s vassals, offers the moneylenders Rachel and Vidas chests filled with sand, pretending that they are full of gold: – Prended las archas e meted las en vuestro salvo; con grand jura meted ý las fes amos que non las catedes en todo aqueste año. (Rachel e Vidas seyen se consejando: – Nós huebos avemos en todo de ganar algo. – Bien lo sabemos que él algo gañó quando a tierra de moros entró, que grant aver sacó. – Non duerme sin sospecha qui aver trae monedado. – Estas archas prendamos las amas, en logar las metamos que non sean ventadas.) – Mas dezid nos del Çid, ¿de qué será pagado, o qué ganançia nos dará por todo aqueste año? Respuso Martín Antolínez a guisa de menbrado: – Mio Çid querrá lo que ssea aguisado, pedir vos á poco por dexar so aver en salvo; acogen sele omnes de todas partes me[n]guados, á menester seis çientos marcos. (vv. 119-35) Punctuation has been added taking into account the explanations above, but no emendations other than the addition of n in me[n]guados have been introduced. Parentheses have been used to indicate an aside between Rachel and Vidas, the beginning of which is explicitly marked by the narrator’s indication (v. 122). Then we have the two moneylenders’ deliberating dialogue, in which the replies are marked by shifts at the line end (v. 123 in á-o; vv. 124-25 in ó(-e); v. 126 in á-o; vv. 127-28 in á-a). Once finished the aside, the assonance changes to á-o (v. 129). In this way, the concept of deictic dissonance reveals poetic values in passages previously considered defective or corrupt. In their efforts at reconstructing this passage in the form of a laisse, some editors have resorted to an inordinate introduction of emendations and deleted the dialogue structure of the aside in the process. An assonance theory according to which only the last stressed vowel is relevant would avoid such an extensive intervention, but it would be useless for the interpretation of the passage: the dialogue structure would be equally lost, given that the contrast between á-a and á-o would have no signification. Another context in which deictic dissonance can appear is when there is a break in the sequence of events, marking the end of a narrative segment just On the Poetic Technique of the Poema de mio Cid 197 before returning to the initial moment. An apposite example is found in the depiction of the reaction in the Cid’s camp to Álvar Fáñez’s arrival from his mission to Castile: ¡Dios, cómmo fue alegre todo aquel fonssado que Minaya Albarfáñez assí era legado, diziendo les saludes de primos e de hermanos e de sus compañas, aquelas que avién dexadas! ¡Dios, cómmo es alegre la barba velida que Albarfáñez pagó las mill missas e quel dixo saludes de su mugier e de sus fijas! (926-32) The poet first describes the joy among the exiled and then, having marked the end of the sequence with a leonine in line 929, turns his attention to the hero. Non-sequential story telling is not always marked so clearly as it is here, with a deictic dissonance followed by a verse that begins by repeating a previous one, thus marking a return to an earlier moment in the story. This can cause some problems to the modern reader, who is generally unaware that medieval epics do not necessarily follow our narrative conventions regarding the temporal or logical progress of a story. A good example occurs in the Corpes episode, beginning in line 2712. The audience is told in detail up to line 2748 how the infantes of Carrión, Diego and Ferrán González, batter their young wives, the Cid’s daughters. The assonance ó(-e) is sustained during the whole passage except for a leonine in á-o in line 2725 marking the beginning of Doña Sol’s plea. Even the narrator’s intervention recalling the figure of the hero in lines 2741-42 retains ó(-e). But the assonance switches to í-a in lines 2749-52 for a compassionate depiction of their vulnerability after having been abandoned in the wood. The story is punctuated again by the narrator’s comment in line 2753 in ó(-e), a variation on lines 2741-42, expressing the same wishful thinking and recalling in this time of great need the protective figure of their father. Lines 2749-53 do not further the action, being an instance of double narration, a narrative variation on the preceding material but with more details.22 The assonance switches to á-o in lines 2754-62, a passage that shows the infantes de Carrión bragging about their misdeed. A new change to ó(-e) marks the beginning of a new narrative sequence: Félez Muñoz, the Cid’s nephew who is travelling with the retinue, acting on a suspicion, decides to backtrack and rescues his badly wounded cousins. 22 See John Gornall, “‘A New Scene or a Complementary Treatment of the First?’”, for more examples, some of them debatable. 198 Bayo Julve The poet’s non-linear approach to storytelling can produce very complex structures when he is confronted with technical problems such as the representation of simultaneous events. The most elaborate structure of this kind, involving a complete, detailed breakdown, is the triple judicial combat at Carrión in lines 3533-97. Its composition, building up to the denouement of the poem, is remarkable in many respects. The episode shows the author’s preference for ternary patterning that is also discernible in other parts of his work, such as when the Cid’s dispatches three embassies to King Alfonso, or even in the tripartite division of the poem. Nevertheless, this principle of construction involves a compositional problem here, since the imposition of a narrative ternary pattern clashes with the binary tendency with regard to characters and objects. After all, these were two infantes who abused and abandoned their respective wives, the Cid’s daughters, and these were the two swords the hero won and presented to his sons-in-law. The poet’s skill is all the more striking as he uses the introduction of a third element to build a climax for his narrative by bringing in Asur González, the eldest brother of the infantes, as the last of the trio of opponents. The shaming of the House of Carrión is sealed once and for all with the defeat of their firstborn, whose life is saved by his father, the head of the lineage, at the expense of the family’s honour. Significantly, the weapon that attains the victory is a lance with the Cid’s pennant, eventually stained with the foe’s blood. Nobody dies during the triple combat, a choice not without its logic, and rather remarkable within the epic genre. Although the three duels are fought simultaneously, the author recounts them one after another. Lines 3604-22 serve to present the entire picture in which the poet introduces the three pairs of duellists and describes their charge in formulaic style (cf. vv. 3615-17 with vv. 715-17). Then he begins with the depiction of each duel, adopting the order in which the respective challenges were issued at the court at Toledo: in lines 3633-45, in ó(-e), Pero Vermúez beats Ferrán González, who has to admit his treachery in order for his life to be spared; in lines 3646-70, in á-a, Martín Antolínez defeats Diego González, who runs out of the designated field of combat; in lines 3671-97, in ó(-e), Muño Gustioz crushes Asur González, who is saved by the intervention of his father Gonzalo Asúrez. The first and third duels include instances of double narration, since blows introduced as simultaneous are explained consecutively. It is also noteworthy to stress how the poet felt the need to differentiate the second fight resorting to á-a, while neither the beginning of the first nor the end of the last of the three duels is marked by assonance changes (that is to say, the limits of the entire episode of the triple combat with respect to the contiguous narrative sequences are not indicated by any discontinuity in the assonance).23 23 See Ian Michael, “Tres duelos”, for a more detailed analysis of this episode. On the Poetic Technique of the Poema de mio Cid 199 To sum up, the PMC was composed according to a concept of narrative art whose temporal conventions regarding chronological order are different from ours, and the modern reader should be aware of such variations. In this respect, it could be compared to the representation of space in medieval paintings, unconcerned about principles of perspective, which would be later developed and disseminated. Medieval art, however, can be still the object of aesthetic appreciation in its own right to anyone who cares to understand its nature and the meanings that the people who produced it intended to convey. 3 Further Remarks on the Adequacy of the Deictic Dissonance Hypothesis A clear example of deictic dissonance that appears in the Roncesvalles fragment provides proof that it was a feature of Old Spanish epic versification.24 This new explanation, however, has not won over proponents of the laisse theory. Their replies, however, are based on arguments of dubious validity and, of all the textual support offered in the presentation of the concept of deictic dissonance, only the case of line 708 has been subjected to discussion.25 None of the objections raised against the new hypothesis is sufficiently convincing to justify retaining the laisse theory and its use as a criterion for emendation. The main counterargument, that the concept of deictic dissonance only applies to particular cases and leaves the versification system of the PMC unexplained, is a misrepresentation that tries to invert the level of adequacy achieved by deictic dissonance with respect to the laisse theory. It should be noted that deictic dissonance not only provides a basic principle of explanation for independent verses and couplets, but also encompasses the possibility of sustaining the assonance for longer passages producing the same configuration as what is usually known as laisse. This new approach, in fact, provides a far more exhaustive principle of explanation than the previous theory. Another objection which has been advanced is that the text transmitted by the Vivar codex contains an irrelevant proportion, between 1.8 and 3 per cent, of lines left unaccounted by the laisse theory, and that such a minimal quantity 24 25 See Bayo, “Poetic discourse patterning”, pp. 90-91. A summary is provided below, but see Montaner, Cantar de Mio Cid, pp. 391-92 and 534, for the objections, and his attempt at an explanation, resorting to the concepts of contextual attraction and cascading errors; Funes, “Cuestiones de ecdótica”, p. 43, for the statistical argument; and Sánchez Jiménez, “Apuntes sobre la lengua”, pp. 82-90, for an overall assessment. 200 Bayo Julve does not call for doubting its legitimacy as a criterion for emendation. There is variation in calculating the number of corrections needed to produce a reconstruction in laisses (according to Menéndez Pidal, they amounted to 6.5 per cent),26 but, at any rate, statistics without structural analysis can be worthless or misleading. If critics find anomalies, it is necessary that they ask themselves what the reasons for such deviations are. A good start, in my opinion, is to inquire about the occurrence and modality of their distribution. Why are the so-called assonance irregularities especially frequent in passages with direct speech featuring pairs of characters (i.e. Rachel and Vidas, Doña Elvira and Doña Sol, Diego and Ferrán González)? For a philologist, no line is irrelevant in the text written down by the copyist of the Vivar codex. It has also been argued that deictic dissonance presupposes that transcription errors have an impact on the semantic level, but not on the formal level, in spite of the well-known fact that textual corruption has an effect on both levels as evidenced not only in the PMC, but in the transmission of texts in general. This objection is based on a confusion or false inference. Deictic dissonance does not preclude the possibility that transcription errors can affect the poetic form of the PMC, though obviously the new concept implies that textual corruption appears in a significantly lesser degree than the laisse theory does. There are lines in the text transmitted in the Vivar codex in which a discontinuity with the assonance of the preceding verses is not accompanied by any kind of deictic function; in such cases, the possibility of an error in the manuscript should be considered. Here is an example by way of illustration: levar las hemos a nuestras tierras de Carrión, meter las hemos en las villas | que les diemos por arras e por onores; (2563-65) In the manuscript, the second verse occupies two lines, and yet no deictic function can be discerned. Taking into account that leaving line 2564 alone would result in an abnormally short final hemistich, editing lines 2564-65 as one verse becomes a reasonable emendation. In general terms, the idea that textual corruption can affect only the semantic but not the formal level is inconceivable within the theoretical framework underpinning the very concept of deictic dissonance: the weird corollary immediately follows from such 26 Menéndez Pidal, Cantar de Mio Cid, vol. I, p. 86. On the Poetic Technique of the Poema de mio Cid 201 a radical separation between the two that rhyme is necessarily a meaningless element.27 Another objection is that couplets in the preserved text can be explained by scribal intervention, and more specifically by contextual attraction (as in v. 16) and cascading errors (as in vv. 719-21). Such notions are misused in the textual analysis of the PMC. The first instance in line 16 introduces a misleading element in the discussion. Shortly after the poem was copied, a number of minor emendations, none of them deriving evidently from another witness, were introduced in the manuscript with slightly different strokes in an ink of lighter colour. In this manner, levava was added over pendones in line 16 with the apparent intent of making a complete sentence. Although most of these corrections are clearly ope ingenii, they have been the object of special attention on the part of modern editors, since their introduction dates back to the time of the copyist, unlike later interventions by different hands dispersed throughout the manuscript. From Menéndez Pidal’s time it has been customary to refer to this hand as that of the first corrector. Recently, however, Montaner has argued that it is the copyist’s.28 Even if his identification were correct, the process of conjectural correction cannot be put at the same level as the process of copying. In this particular case, it can be remarked that it is doubtful that the primary concern of the person who wrote levava over pendones in line 16 had to do with versification, since the obvious outcome of this addition is a smoother syntactic structure, and a couplet becomes visible only after editorial intervention. The other instance, lines 719-21, is completely different. Here we are dealing only with the text as initially copied, with no further corrections, in the Vivar codex. Suggested emendations are at least arbitrary and highly problematic; for example, reordering the words of line 721 to leave Campeador at verse end produces an abnormal construction, but omitting de Bivar in the same verse cannot be considered a more satisfactory intervention, since the hero’s battle cry involves a reference to his ancestral house (cf. v. 1140). Indeed, there is no evidence of scribal error in this passage, which has been used above to show how deictic dissonance works. There is no reason whatsoever to sustain that the couplet of lines 720-21 does not belong to the poet. Proponents of the laisse theory have argued against deictic dissonance, believing that emendations resorting to verbal endings fitting the assonance 27 28 The best elucidation of such issues remains the classical discussion of the concepts of form and material in the first section of the initial essay of Jurij N. Tynjanov, Problema stixotvornogo jazyka. See Menéndez Pidal, Cantar de Mio Cid, vol. I, pp. 7-9; and Montaner, Cantar de Mio Cid, p. 474, and his chapter in this volume. 202 Bayo Julve are fully justified; in their view, rhyme is an element determining the occurrence of tenses, the poet’s use of which would often be hardly explainable otherwise. This is an oversimplification of a complex issue. The occurrence of a word at the end of a verse can be viewed both as an effect and a cause of the assonance. The suggestion that the author fell into grammatical anomaly forced by poetic form implies the untenable idea that he was incompetent as a poet. Indeed, the tense shifts referred to in the objection’s argument are far from being exclusively linked to the PMC’s assonance. They feature prominently in medieval vernacular works for oral delivery, and can also be found in prose texts as well as inside the verses of the PMC.29 Such tense usage should not be employed as an excuse for ungrammatical emendations. As previously noted, line 708 has received particular attention. Opponents of the concept of deictic dissonance have asserted that retaining a reading such as acorredes involves assuming the existence of imperfect assonances in the PMC. This inference, mixing two different issues, is an inaccurate non sequitur, as can be gathered from elements already explained. Suffice it to say that there is nothing imperfect about that verse, and many others that cannot be explained by the laisse theory. Line 708 is a leonine with a grammatical rhyme in -edes that stands in sharp dissonance with the contiguous verses. Imperfect assonances do not play any role in such a passage. A further objection claims that judgements based on grammaticality, such as that the substitution of acorrades for acorredes in line 708 generates an illformed structure, are subjective and unreliable. There is, however, massive evidence demonstrating how such an emendation is ungrammatical. Line 2382 provides the best comparison, since it is closest in syntax, meaning, and context. It can be added that there are at least ten verses in the PMC that prove that ver expressing perception in the indicative future as the main verb of an affirmative sentence requires the use of the indicative in the subordinate clause it governs (cf. vv. 998, 1642, 1643, 1666, 2642, 2565, 2621, 2858). Lines such as 384, 1359, 2965, and 2966 cannot be used to justify an emendation, since here the subjunctive is necessary because it appears within clauses depending on volitive verbs, expressing a request, command, or order. It should be noted that the only editor who emended line 708 in order to achieve uniformity of assonance while maintaining an unshakeable sense of grammar was Andrés Bello, who rephrased the whole second hemistich into veed que la acorrades, changing the meaning of ver from a verb of perception to a verb of command. Such an editorial interference, however, is not acceptable according to a more rigorous 29 For the most complete treatment, with many analyses of early Romance texts, see Suzanne Fleischman, Tense and Narrativity. On the Poetic Technique of the Poema de mio Cid 203 approach to textual criticism. In short, in the entire history of the Spanish language there is not a single documented case of ver as a perception verb in the indicative in an affirmative sentence governing a subordinate clause in the subjunctive. The reason for this absence is that it would violate the distinction between infinitive and subjunctive, which is fundamental to the operation of the verbal system of Castilian grammar. It has also been argued that the occurrence of acorredes both in line 708 of the PMC and in the above-quoted passage of the Estoria de España does not prove that it is the correct reading, but only that both derive from a common source. This line of argument leads the laisse theory to a cul-de-sac. It clings to the supposition that the transmitted reading is erroneous by placing it in an archetype, presumably Per Abbat’s manuscript of 1207. This effectively means that versification patterns such as leonines must be contemporary to the poem’s composition, which must be dated around 1200 according to the evidence gathered over the last decades. In any case, all the textual and linguistic evidence supports acorredes over acorrades in the analysed passage, where the former is both correct and documented, while the latter is undocumented and ungrammatical in this kind of construction. Another reason that has been put forward in favour of the emendation of acorredes in acorrades in line 708 is that it is authorized by the flexibility of the consecutio temporum characteristic of the PMC. Actually, this type of intervention comes into conflict with the poem’s style. Tense shifting occurs in the text within several areas of the verbal system, most notably with indicative tenses in past narration. However, this phenomenon never crosses the boundary between indicative and subjunctive, something that would produce ungrammaticality, as it has already been explained. Indeed, there is not a single case of such an alternation to be found within the whole corpus of epic and ballad poetry in the medieval and early modern Iberian tradition. Such an emendation would also go against the PMC’s style in the sense that tense shifts ordinarily appear in the narrative voice rather than in passages of direct speech, which is obviously the case of line 708. The contextuality of this phenomenon in the PMC was first observed in 1953 by Manfred Sandmann.30 It is the rule in early Romance works composed for oral performance, and the author of the PMC typically adheres to it. Occasional exceptions can be found when a character reports something, i.e. acts as a narrator, as can be seen when Álvar Fáñez informs King Alfonso about the Cid’s deeds: “Ganada á [a] Xérica e a Onda por nombre, / priso a Almenar e a Murviedro que es miyor” (vv. 1327-28), or when Muño Gustioz advises Avengalvón that the Cid requires an escort for his wife 30 Manfred Sandmann, “Narrative tenses of the past”; see also Peter Russell’s review, p. 241. 204 Bayo Julve and daughters: “Mio Çid vos saludava e mandólo recabdar” (v. 1482). Even in such exceptions, tense shifting always remains firmly anchored in the indicative. A very clear case also appears in the Roncesvalles fragment, namely, in Charlemagne’s lament over Roland’s body (ll. 36-41). The Emperor recalls the campaigns they both carried out together: “Con vós conquís Truquía e Roma apriessa dava” (v. 72). Such an instance of tense alternation is made possible by the narrative character of the passage in which it occurs, a lengthy account including the winning of Durandal, the exploits of Roland, and the wars he fought with Charlemagne (vv. 54-76). The contextual restriction no longer operates in Spanish ballads, in which verses such as King Juan’s “Altos son y relucían” of the Romance de Abenámar have become usual. But tense shifting within direct speech is highly constrained in the text preserved by the Vivar codex, and this stylistic feature of the PMC should be respected. In short, the concept of deictic dissonance cannot be blamed for disregarding such elements; it is the laisse theory that often shows a complete lack of concern for the language and style of the PMC.31 As explained above, the versification of Hispanic medieval epic poetry is still the subject of debate and controversy among scholars. The reader is likely to encounter editions offering a text divided and reconstructed into laisses. Therefore, it is for them to consider the different options, thinking straight without ever losing sight of the textual evidence, and decide for themselves which theory throws more light on the poet’s original intentions.32 Works Cited Adams, Kenneth, “The Metrical Irregularity of the Cantar de Mio Cid: A Restatement Based on the Evidence of Names, Epithets and Some Other Aspects of Formulaic Diction”, Bulletin of Hispanic Studies 49 (1972), 109-19. Amador de los Ríos, José, Historia crítica de la literatura española, 7 vols., Madrid: José Rodríguez, 1861-65. Bayo Julve, Juan Carlos, “Poetic Discourse Patterning in the Cantar de Mio Cid”, Modern Language Review 96.1 (2001), 82-91 (repr., with correction of misprints in the original, 31 32 Montaner’s chapter in this volume holds a different view, which I do not share since it insists on favouring statistics over grammatical and stylistic analysis, and drawing a questionable analogy with the Old French epic tradition, rather than considering Old Spanish heroic poetry according to its preserved witnesses and on its own terms. This article has been written with financial support from the Ramón y Cajal programme of the Spanish Ministerio de Economía y Competitividad. On the Poetic Technique of the Poema de mio Cid 205 in Classical and Medieval Literature Criticism, vol. 109, Chicago: Cengage Learning, 2009, pp. 286-92). Bayo Julve, Juan Carlos, “La datación del Cantar de Mio Cid y el problema de su tradición manuscrita”, in Alan D. Deyermond et al. (eds.), “Mio Cid” Studies: “Some Problems of Diplomatic” Fifty Years On, London: Queen Mary, 2002, pp. 15-35. Bayo Julve, Juan Carlos, “On the Nature of the Cantar de Mio Cid and Its Place in Hispanic Medieval Epic”, La Corónica, 33.2 (2005), 13-27. Behaghel, Otto, “Beziehungen zwischen Umfang und Reihenfolge von Satzgliedern”, Indogermanische Forschungen 25 (1909), 110-42. Behaghel, Otto, Deutsche Syntax. Eine geschichtliche Darstellung, 4 vols., Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1923-32. Bello, Andrés (ed.), “Poema del Cid”, in Andrés Bello, Obras completas, 2 ed., 26 vols., Caracas: La Casa de Bello, 1981-86, vol. VII, pp. 3-314. Dyer, Nancy Joe (ed.), El “Mio Cid” del taller alfonsí: versión en prosa en la “Primera Crónica General” y en la “Crónica de veinte reyes”, Newark, Delaware: Juan de la Cuesta, 1995. Fleischman, Suzanne, Tense and Narrativity: From Medieval Performance to Modern Fiction, Austin: University of Texas Press, 1990. Funes, Leonardo, “Cuestiones de ecdótica en torno al Mio Cid”, Olivar 10 (2007), 37-52. García Yebra, Valentín, “Sobre las asonancias en a y en o en el Cantar de Mio Cid”, Revista de Filología Española 74 (1994), 5-21. Gómez-Bravo, Ana M., “La naturaleza de las asonancias del Cantar de mio Cid. Notas sobre la -e paragógica”, Hispania 81 (1998), 501-08. Gornall, John, “‘A New Scene or a Complementary Treatment of the First’? A Checklist of Masked Double Narrations in the Poema de mio Cid”, in Barry Taylor and Geoffrey West (eds.), Historicist Essays on Hispano-Medieval Narrative in Memory of Roger M. Walker, London: MHRA, 2005, pp. 102-14. Hook, David, “Verbal Economy and Structural Ecology in the Poema de mio Cid”, La Corónica, 33.2 (2005), 97-109. Horrent, Jules (ed.), “Roncesvalles”. Étude sur le fragment de cantar de gesta conservé à l’Archivo de Navarra (Pampelune), Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1951. Horrent, Jules, Historia y poesía en torno al “Cantar del Cid”, Barcelona: Ariel, 1973. Leonard, William E., “The Recovery of the Meter of the Cid”, Publications of the Modern Language Association of America 46 (1931), 289-306. Menéndez Pidal, Ramón (ed.), Cantar de Mio Cid. Texto, gramática y vocabulario, 2 ed., 3 vols., Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1944-46. Menéndez Pidal, Ramón (ed.), “Roncesvalles. Un nuevo cantar de gesta español del siglo xiii”, Revista de Filología Española 4 (1917), 105-204. Michael, Ian, “A Comparison of the Use of Epic Epithets in the Poema de mio Cid and the Libro de Alexandre”, Bulletin of Hispanic Studies 38 (1961), 32-41. 206 Bayo Julve Michael, Ian, “Tres duelos en el Poema de mio Cid”, in Manuel Alvar et al., El comentario de textos, 4. La poesía medieval, Madrid: Castalia, 1983, pp. 85-104. Michael, Ian, “Orígenes de la epopeya en España: reflexiones sobre las últimas teorías”, in José Manuel Lucía Megías et al., Actas del II Congreso Internacional de la Asociación Hispánica de Literatura Medieval (Segovia, del 15 al 19 de octubre de 1987), 2 vols., Madrid: Universidad de Alcalá, 1992, vol. I, pp. 71-88. Michael, Ian, “‘A cada uno lo suyo’: el problema de la edición crítica”, in Manuel Criado de Val (ed.), Los orígenes del español y los grandes textos medievales: “Mio Cid”, “Buen Amor” y “Celestina”, Madrid: CSIC, pp. 133-41. Montaner, Alberto (ed.), Cantar de Mio Cid, 3 ed., Madrid: Real Academia Española, 2011. Nespor, Marina, and Irene Vogel, Prosodic Phonology, Dordrecht: Foris, 1986 (repr. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter, 2007). Parry, Milman, “Studies in the Epic Technique of Oral Verse-Making. I: Homer and Homeric Style”, Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, 41 (1930), 70-137 (repr. in The Making of Homeric Verse: The Collected Papers of Milman Parry, ed. Adam Parry, Oxford: Clarendon, 1971, pp. 266-324). Pellen, René, “Le modèle du vers épique espagnol à partir de la formule cidienne [el que en buen hora…] (Exploitation des concordances pour l’analyse des structures textuelles)”, Cahiers de Linguistique Hispanique Médiévale 10 (1985), 5-37, and 11 (1986), 5-132. Rossell, Antoni, “Le pregón. Survivence du système de transmission oral et musical de l’épopée espagnole”, Cahiers de Littérature Orale 32 (1992), 159-77. Russell, Peter, Review of Studies in Romance Philology and French Literature Presented to John Orr, Bulletin of Hispanic Studies 31 (1954), 240-41. Sánchez, Tomás Antonio (ed.), Poema del Cid (Colección de poesías castellanas anteriores al siglo xv, 1), Madrid: Antonio de Sancha, 1779. Sánchez Jiménez, Santiago U., “Apuntes sobre la lengua del Mio Cid”, in Jesús Gómez (ed.), Ochocientos años del “Mio Cid”: una visión interdisciplinar, Madrid: Ministerio de Educación, Política Social y Deporte, 2008, pp. 63-94. Sandmann, Manfred, “Narrative Tenses of the Past in the Cantar de Mio Cid”, in Ian W. Alexander et al., Studies in Romance Philology and French Literature Presented to John Orr, Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1953, pp. 258-81. Tynjanov, Jurij N., Problema stixotvornogo jazyka, Leningrad: Academia, 1924 (repr. Letchworth: Prideaux, 1979). Victorio, Juan (ed.), Cantar de Mio Cid, Madrid: UNED, 2002. “Mio Cid Ruy Díaz odredes lo que dixo” 207 Chapter 7 “Mio Cid Ruy Díaz odredes lo que dixo”: The Voice of the Narrator, the Voice of the Characters Salvatore Luongo 1 The Voice of the Narrator De los sos ojos tan fuertemientre llorando, tornava la cabeça e estávalos catando. Vio puertas abiertas e uços sin cañados, alcándaras vazías, sin pielles e sin mantos, e sin falcones e sin adtores mudados. Sospiró mio Cid, ca mucho avié grandes cuidados, fabló mio Cid bien e tan mesurado: − ¡Grado a ti, Señor, Padre que estás en alto! ¡Esto me an buelto mios enemigos malos! − Allí piensan de aguijar, allí sueltan las riendas. A la exida de Bivar ovieron la corneja diestra e entrando a Burgos oviéronla siniestra. Meció mio Cid los ombros e engrameó la tiesta: − ¡Albricia, Álbar Fáñez, ca echados somos de tierra! (1-14) From the very first verses of the only surviving manuscript,1 the narrator of the Poema de mio Cid displays a wise use of the prerogatives deriving from his position; he is extradiegetic, situated on the same level of the addressee; heterodiegetic, absent from the story; simultaneous, there is not a clear distinction between the time of narration and the time in which the story takes place; omniscient, taking full responsibility for the narration and its regulation, independently from what each character knows or says; compromising, he provides more or less information than is necessary; intrusive, he comments on what he recounts, often openly revealing his presence; and uses formal artifices that the tradition has placed at his disposal.2 From the close-up of the 1 As is well known, the manuscript is acephalous: the initial page is lost; see Alberto Montaner’s chapter in this volume. 2 Regarding these categories, Genette, Figures III and Noveau discours, as well as Segre, Avviamento all’analisi, are obvious references that should be complemented with the new © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004363755_009 208 Luongo Campeador, who turns around in tears (vv. 1-2), the narrator, adopting for a moment (and in an exceptional manner) the perspective of the character (“Vio […]”), gazes back towards the house and its desolate interior (vv. 3-5), turning again to focus on the grieving hero and give him voice (vv. 6-9), but not before letting us know his own voice, namely, his positive comment that accompanies the elocution formula (“fabló […] bien e tan mesurado”). Having marked the passage from motionless to movement through the substitution of the perfect tense with the present as if he were directly observing the action (“Allí piensan […], allí sueltan”, v. 10), the narrator hints at a double wish (negative and positive, vv. 11-12),3 prompting the protagonist’s reaction (vv. 13-14) and creating a series of expectations in the audience. The narrator often plays with the audience’s expectations by balancing the (scarce or excessive)4 quantity and quality of information. For instance, when the Infantes of Carrión enter the scene, we are immediately informed (vv. 1372-77) about the true motivation lying behind their plan to marry the Cid’s daughters despite their inferior rank. Having learned the most recent “nuevas” from Valencia, Diego and Fernando reaffirm their unspeakable motives during a second “aside”, before asking King Alfonso to intercede with the hero: De los ifantes de Carrión yo vos quiero contar, fablando en su consejo, aviendo su poridad: − Las nuevas del Cid mucho van adelant, demandemos sus fijas pora con ellas casar, creçremos en nuestra ondra e iremos adelant. (1879-83) The foreboding nature of the proposal is confirmed by the suspicion expressed by an emotional formula in both cases,5 with which the King (although later Alfonso is their guarantor) and Rodrigo accept the Infantes’ pledge: multivariate analysis of the narrative voice developed by Montaner Frutos, “Íñigo Balboa o la voz del narrador” and “Juan Ruiz, Lǐ Yú y las maqāmāt”, pp. 303-06. 3 The interpretation of the omens is a much debated issue; the first could be auspicious and the second inauspicious (Cantar de Mio Cid, ed. Menéndez Pidal, vol. II, pp. 596, 643-44); both positive (Galmés de Fuentes, Épica árabe y épica castellana, pp. 126-29; Marcos Marín, Poesía narrativa árabe, pp. 294-302; Molho, “Inversión y engaste de inversión”, p. 196); the first adverse and the second propitious (García Montoro, “Good or Bad Fortune on Entering Burgos?”; Garci-Gómez, “Mio Cid”. Estudios de endocrítica, pp. 45-61). 4 Genette, Figures III, pp. 211-12. 5 The formula is employed in the Poema to signal the arrival of bad news; see Cantar de Mio Cid, ed. Montaner Frutos, p. 898. “Mio Cid Ruy Díaz odredes lo que dixo” 209 Una grant ora el rey pensó e comidió: − Yo eché de tierra al buen Campeador, e faziendo yo a él mal e él a mí grand pro, del casamiento non sé si s’abrá sabor; mas, pues bós lo queredes, entremos en la razón. (1889-93) Cuando lo oyó mio Cid el buen Campeador, una grand ora pensó e comidió: − ¡Esto gradesco a Christus el mio señor! Echado fu de tierra e, tollida la onor, con grand afán gané lo que he yo. A Dios lo gradesco, que del rey he su gracia e pídenme mis fijas pora los ifantes de Carrión. Ellos son mucho urgullosos e an part en la cort; d’este casamiento non avría sabor, mas, pues lo conseja el que más vale que nós, fablemos en ello, en la poridad seamos nós. ¡Afé Dios del cielo, que nos acuerde en lo mijor! (1931-42) The premonition is skillfully projected by the Campeador himself, who agrees to the marriage, but wisely avoids taking legal responsibility for it (vv. 2082-89, 2109-10, 2131-34, 2197-204), and by the direct intervention of the narrator’s voice after the wedding celebration: ¡Plega a Santa María e al Padre Santo que·s’ pague d’es casamiento mio Cid o el que lo [ovo a algo]! (2274-75) Whereas paralipses serve to generate a contrast between the narrator, who knows more, and the audience, who knows less, by creating a tension effect (as in the aforementioned example where the evil consequences of the marriage are not revealed until later), the use of paralepses works to create comical or dramatic effects by establishing a contrast between the audience which, being informed by the narrator, knows more, and the diegetic actors, who know less. For example, in the episode in which Rachel and Vidas are deceived, the information gap is used to ridicule the pair of usurers (the audience is aware that the “arcas” pawned by the Cid, with the help of the loyal Martín Antolínez, contain sand and not King Alfonso’s gold, while Rachel and Vidas are astutely led to believe that the “enemigos malos” accusation about the stolen gold is true). Rachel and Vidas’ credulity also functions in condemning a mental universe “other”, the one of the negotium, whose logic the Campeador, in economic 210 Luongo difficulties, is compelled to confront, even if it is a pure fiction.6 The negotiation culminates, with a wink directed at the audience, in two exhilarating final quips. As the Campeador takes his leave, Rachel requests a gift upon his return from the military expedition in the land of the Saracens, that is, a Moorish furcoat; Rodrigo accepts with ambiguous enthusiasm and, although we know that they are worthless, he adds that if he cannot keep his promise, Rachel can deduct its value from the gold in the chests:7 ‒ Plazme ‒ dixo el Cid ‒, d’aquí sea mandada, si vos la aduxier d’allá, si non, contalda sobre las arcas. (180-81) For his part, Martín Antolínez, having arranged the deal, demands a reward that is willingly granted to him. Thus, it is impossible not to laugh given the characters’ credulity: ‒ Ya don Rachel e Vidas, en vuestras manos son las arcas; yo que esto vos gané bien merecía calças. Entre Rachel e Vidas, aparte ixieron amos: ‒ Démosle buen don, ca él nos lo ha buscado. Martín Antolínez, un burgalés contado, […] Merecérnoslos hedes, ca esto es aguisado. (189-93, 197) Unsurprisingly, examples of paralepses that create dramatic effects are more frequent. They are particularly effective when staging the conflict between the hero and his daughters’ husbands, a clash brought about by the Corpes’ afrenta, which is slyly orchestrated by the two Infantes. In the first part of the cantar tercero, the helpless audience is made to witness the conspiracy against the Cid who is totally unaware of their abhorrent machination, so deplorable that the narrator’s reaction is to explicitly keep his distance:8 6 See Gargano, “L’universo sociale della Castiglia”, pp. 221-32; and Luongo, “Facciata comica e contenuto serio nell’episodio di Rachel e Vidas”, particularly pp. 595-99. 7 According to Montaner Frutos (Cantar de Mio Cid, p. 689), the second hemistich means “que lo añada a lo que debe cobrar para la restitución del empeño y no que lo descuente del contenido de las arcas, aunque, al parecer, Rachel habría podido tomarlo de allí, al contar con el permiso del dueño”; both interpretations seem possible. 8 Some editors assign v. 2539 to the Infantes, which entails an evident semantic inconsistency. “Mio Cid Ruy Díaz odredes lo que dixo” 211 Amos salieron apart, ¡veramientre son hermanos! d’esto qu’ellos fablaron nós parte non ayamos: − Vayamos pora Carrión, aquí mucho detardamos. Los averes que tenemos grandes son e sobejanos, mientra que visquiéremos despender no lo[s] podremos. Pidamos nuestras mugieres al Cid Campeador, digamos que las levaremos a tierras de Carrión, enseñarlas hemos dó las heredades son. Sacarlas hemos de Valencia, de poder del Campeador; después en la carrera feremos nuestro sabor, ante que nos retrayan lo que cuntió del león. Nós de natura somos de condes de Carrión, averes levaremos grandes que valen grant valor, escarniremos las fijas del Canpeador. D’aquestos averes sienpre seremos ricos omnes, podremos casar con fijas de reyes o de enperadores, ca de natura somos de condes de Carrión. Assí las escarniremos a las fijas del Campeador antes que nos retrayan lo que fue del león. (2538-56) The Campeador, “que no·s’ curiava de assí ser afontado” (v. 2569), consents to his sons-in-law’s request to leave, handing over not only his daughters (that is, his family honra), but a rich dowry: mounts, garments, and the swords Colada and Tizón (symbols of his military honra): dixo el Campeador: − Darvos he mis fijas e algo de lo mio. […] Vós les diestes villas e tierras por arras en tierras de Carrión, yo quiéroles dar axuvar III mill marcos de plata, darvos é mulas e palafrés muy gruessos de sazón, cavallos pora en diestro, fuertes e corredores, e muchas vestiduras de paños e de ciclatones. Darvos he dos espadas, a Colada e a Tizón; bien lo sabedes vós que las gané a guisa de varón. Mios fijos sodes amos, cuando mis fijas vos dó, allá me levades las telas del coraçón. Que lo sepan en Gallizia e en Castiella e en León, con qué riqueza enbío mios yernos amos a dos. A mis fijas sirvades que vuestras mugieres son; si bien las servides, yo vos rendré buen galardón. (2568, 2570-82) 212 Luongo Preparations are made in a trustworthy and moving atmosphere, which clearly clashes with what the audience has just heard about the Infantes’ intentions. Only at the moment of their farewell, the apparition of ill omens troubles the hero (“Violo en los avueros el que en buen ora cinxo espada / que estos casamientos non serién sin alguna tacha”, vv. 2615-16). Heeding this premonition, he asks his nephew Félez Muñoz to follow his cousins, but only because he fears that the value of the “arras” which awaits them in Carrión may be inadequate for their status.9 However, shortly after, the reader also becomes involved in the dynamic of these clashing conjectures. The description of the “robredo de Corpes”, where the Infantes and their wives spend the night, is topically sinister:10 Entrados son los ifantes al robredo de Corpes, los montes son altos, las ramas pujan con las núes, e las bestias fieras que andan aderredor. (2697-99) Yet, the inhospitable and threatening locus horroris, where the violence against Elvira and Sol is expected to take place, surprisingly gives way to another canonical space, the locus amoenus,11 traditionally reserved for love scenes. Diego and Fernando actually lie with their wives, leading the audience to believe that they may have changed their mind: Fallaron un vergel con una linpia fuent, mandan fincar la tienda ifantes de Carrión, con cuantos que ellos traen ý yazen essa noch, con sus mugieres en braços demuéstranles amor. (2700-03) Nevertheless, the voice of the narrator immediately warns us that the danger has not been averted: “¡mal ge lo cunplieron cuando salié el sol!” (v. 2704). However, the following verses (2710-11) seem to suggest the opposite: the Infantes ask their retinue to leave them alone with the women in the “vergel” so that they can take pleasure “con ellas a todo su sabor” (v. 2711). It is there 9 10 11 As observed, for example, by Pavlović and Walker, “Money, Marriage and Law”, p. 211. It draws upon the literary tradition according to which the representation of places and sceneries is conventional, typified, and strictly connected to the kind of action in which they take place; see Gurevič, Le categorie, pp. 29 onward; and particularly, Montaner Frutos, “Geografía y paisaje”, “Un canto de frontera”, and Cantar de Mio Cid, pp. 426-35. Skillfully studied by Curtius, Europäische Literatur, cap. X, §§ 6-7. “Mio Cid Ruy Díaz odredes lo que dixo” 213 that, contrary to all premonitions, the two brothers torture their wives with belts and spurs leaving them more dead than alive (vv. 2712 onward).12 As it may be noted, in the aforementioned passages the protagonist is not always placed at the center of the stage. Even though Rodrigo Díaz remains the main subject of the narration, focalization on diverse actors is frequent in the Poema (which is not to be confused with matters of perspectivism, that is, the adoption of the point of view of a character, which is usually absent).13 The poem goes from movements of short distance and duration that, for instance, animate the battle scenes, to longer movements, like the afrenta of Corpes, the three embassies of Minaya Álvar Fáñez to Castile, or the challenge between the Cid’s champions and the Infantes. As a skillful director, the narrator pairs the most abrupt “movements” of the camera with transitional metanarrative formulae. Thus, as the image of the Campeador and his men in Valencia fades out, the narrator introduces the counter-offensive preparations for the imminent attack of the King of Morocco, Yúcef: Mio Cid e sus compañas tan a gran sabor están. El ivierno es exido, que el março quiere entrar. Dezirvos quiero nuevas de allent partes del mar, de aquel rey Yúcef que en Marruecos está. (1618-21) 12 13 The scene has been analyzed, among others, by Casalduero, Estudios de literatura española, pp. 24-25; Deyermond, El “Cantar de Mio Cid”, pp. 32-33; Pérez, “La naturaleza”, pp. 282-83; Cacho Blecua, “El espacio en el Cantar de Mio Cid”, pp. 40-41; Montaner Frutos, “El Cid: mito y símbolo”, pp. 253-54. According to Montaner Frutos, “Lo realmente pertinente es distinguir entre la sujeción o no a un punto de vista en particular (perspectivismo), entre la capacidad o no de cambiar el foco de atención (focalización fija o variable) y entre la posibilidad o la imposibilidad de transmitir los pensamientos de los personajes (introspección), así como a sus posibles combinaciones” (“Íñigo Balboa o la voz del narrador”, p. 300). “Según se desprende de las glosas ya realizadas a las diversas propuestas narratológicas, puede diferenciarse entre un narrador […] que adopta una perspectiva particular (identificándose con alguno de los personajes, al margen de que se encarne o no en él) y el que adopta una perspectiva general (como la del clásico narrador omnisciente); entre aquel que adopta una focalización fija y el que la adopta variable (según se centre en un sólo personaje o en varios, independientemente de que asuma o no su perspectiva concreta al narrar la historia)” (“Íñigo Balboa o la voz del narrador”, pp. 307-08). Regarding these categories, see also Friedman, “Point of View in Fiction”; Lintvelt, Essai de typologie narrative; and Frauenrath, “Perspectivismo, focalización”, pp. 234a-235b. 214 Luongo Similarly, once the “lides” of Carrión are finished, the narrator abandons the defeated and fallen Diego and Fernando to their destiny and returns to Rodrigo to celebrate his final apotheosis: Dexémosnos de pleitos de ifantes de Carrión, de lo que an preso mucho an mal sabor; fablemos nós d’aqueste que en buen ora nació. (3708-10) Cases of entrelazamiento are extremely interesting, as they recount the intertwined actions of both secondary characters and those of the hero simultaneously (or, more rarely, those of another secondary character).14 It is the case of what happens in the first campaign of the destierro in the Henares valley. When he arrives at the doors of Castejón during the night, the Cid stays “en celada” (in ambush) until the dawn of the next day and, by taking advantage of the inhabitants’ opening of the city doors, he launches an attack on the undefended city and plunders it (vv. 435-75). The lens then moves to focus on Minaya, who in the meantime is raiding the south-west reaching as far as Alcalá (vv. 476-83). The vanguard then reunites with the rear-guard in the newly occupied fortification, and they proceed to divide the spoils (vv. 484515). The passage from the first report to the second is fixed by a demarcating verse: “Afevos los CCIII en el algara” (v. 476), while their synchronous endings are marked by a recapitulating verse that signals the end of the branching off: “felos en Castejón, o el Campeador estava” (v. 485). Far more complex is the interweaving between the parallel narrations of Álvar Fáñez’s first mission, during which Rodrigo entrusts him with part of the spoils of the battle against Fáriz and Galve to be given as gifts to Alfonso, and the manoeuvers that will lead the hero to engage with Count Ramón Berenguer. Upon his nephew’s departure, the story informs us of the Cid’s actions (“Ya es aguisado, mañana·s’ fue Minaya / e el Campeador [fincó ý] con su mesnada”, vv. 836-37); he sells Alcocer to the Moors, camps on the hill of San Esteban, and subjugates the Jiloca basin (vv. 83869). Meanwhile, Minaya arrives in Castilla (“Ido es a Castiella Álbar Fáñez Minaya”, v. 871). This verse is preceded by a farewell formula, which marks the shift in the narration (“¡Mio Cid Ruy Díaz de Dios aya su gracia!”, v. 870). Álvar Fáñez delivers the gift and obtains the king’s pardon for himself and for those who would like to join the Campeador (vv. 873-98). Through another transitional formula (“Quiérovos dezir del que en buen ora nasco e cinxo espada”, v. 899) the narration turns to the deeds of the Cid: after subjugating the Martín 14 On the use of this narrative technique in the Poema, see Cacho Blecua, “El espacio en el Cantar de Mio Cid”, pp. 36-37. “Mio Cid Ruy Díaz odredes lo que dixo” 215 and Aguavivas River Valleys, he abandons the “poyo” after fifteen weeks and reaches the pinewoods of Tévar, where, after another three weeks, Álvar Fáñez finally joins Rodrigo with new reinforcements (vv. 900-18). With the narrator’s perspective remaining the same, similar repetitions, double or triple accounts of the same event,15 which are typical procedures of epic discourse,16 may be interpreted as variations of the point of view (distant, close, or from a diverse angle), as for instance the repetition of the final verses (1187-91) of laisse 72 in laisse 73. The first verses tell, in third-person, the dispatch of messengers to Christian lands and, in reported speech, the content of the announcement: Por Aragón e por Navarra pregón mandó echar, a tierras de Castiella enbió sus mensajes: quien quiere perder cueta e venir a ritad, viniesse a mio Cid, que á sabor de cavalgar, cercar quiere a Valencia por a cristianos la dar. (1187-91) The second time, the narrator repeats the call through the voice of Rodrigo, so to speak “live”, adding the detail of the meeting place: − Quien quiere ir comigo cercar a Valencia (todos vengan de grado, ninguno non ha premia), tres días le speraré en Canal de Celfa. (1192-94) The final encounter between Alfonso and the Cid on the bank of the Tagus River is presented, instead, through three different versions. The “original” report occupies vv. 2094-120 and is articulated in two sequences: a) the symbolic handing over of Elvira and Sol to the Infantes, the first constitutive act of their wedding (vv. 2094-110); and b) the farewell of the hero, accompanied by the donation of gifts (2111-20). The repetition in vv. 2121-30 extrapolates from the sequence a) the moment in which the king entrusts Diego and Fernando to the parental authority of their future father-in-law through a close-up (vv. 212126 = vv. 2101-10); cuts out of the sequence b) the image of the Campeador leaving on his horse Babieca (v. 2127 = vv. 2119-20); and adds the invitation to the wedding (vv. 2128-30). The last reiteration (vv. 2131-65) comes back to the 15 16 These instances are examined in detail by Michael, “Tres duelos en el Poema de mio Cid”; and Gornall, “How Many Times”, “Double Narration”, “Two More Cases of Double Narration”, and “A New Scene or a Complementary Treatment of the First?”. See Rychner, La chanson de geste, for the French tradition. 216 Luongo prenuptial agreements, restricting the focus to the designation of Álvar Fáñez as the legal representative of Alfonso (vv. 2131-41), closing-up on Rodrigo’s offering of a gift to the king (vv. 2142-50) and their farewell (vv. 2151-65). Double narration and simultaneity are finally intertwined in the staging of the judicial duels in Carrión. First, we see a synchronous “long shot” depicting the clash among the six warriors (vv. 3612-22); thereafter, beginning with v. 3623, the three “lides” are recounted separately, in parallel laisses (the final part of 150, 151, and the beginning of 152). This procedure is repeated on a reduced scale with the description of the battles between Pero Vermúdez and Fernando González, and between Muño Gustioz and Asur González. Each pair of combatants exchanges a blow that is first represented as occurring simultaneously (vv. 3625 and 3673); then, each blow is described again in detail as if they were consecutive (vv. 3626-28, 3629-40 and 3674-77, 3678-88). At times, the flexible use of verbal tenses also contributes to creating the effect of multiple points of view (a flexibility, as is well known, that has multiple aspectual, aesthetic, marking, axiological, emotional, and prosodic implications).17 In particular, the passage from narrative tense (imperfect, simple past, past perfect, and conditional) to a commentative tense (simple present, present perfect, and future) determines the place of the action that is moved from background to close-up, initiating an actualization/dramatization process of what is being narrated with further involvement of the audience.18 Suffice the example of the scene in the Corpes oak grove, in which the Infantes ferociously attack their defenseless wives (I omit the passages in direct speech, which do not properly pertain to the narrator’s voice).19 Here, the past perfect and perfect tenses of the first two verses, which are already interspersed by a rhyming son, give way to a long series of occurrences (13) of the simple present, to which a future tense is added (dará, v. 2746). The series is interrupted only by two simple pasts (vieron, v. 2724, majaron, v. 2743), three imperfects (one of which is a verbum dicendi: fablava, v. 2724, ronpién, v. 2738, salié, v. 2739), 17 18 19 The phenomenon has been studied from diverse perspectives; see Sandamann, “Narrative Tenses of the Past”; Gilman, Tiempo y formas temporales; De Chasca, El arte juglaresco, pp. 282-310; Myers, “Assonance and Tense”; Lapesa, De la Edad Media a nuestros días, pp. 16-22; Montgomery, “Narrative Tenses Preference”; Aguirre, “Poema de Mio Cid: Rima y oralidad”; and Soler Bistué, “Historia y ficción”. The extreme variability of verbal tenses depends on the interweaving of numerous reasons, as noted by Montgomery, “Interaction of Factors”. See Segre, Avviamento all’analisi, p. 28. The characters’ speeches do not present the same freedom of use. See Sandmann, “Narrative Tenses of the Past”; Gilmann, Tiempo y formas temporales, pp. 33-34; and Montgomery, “Interaction of Factors”, pp. 355-57. “Mio Cid Ruy Díaz odredes lo que dixo” 217 and by a gerund (ensayándos’, v. 2746). The conditional and the two imperfect subjunctives in vv. 2741-42, which temporarily suspend the narration, naturally need to be referred to the level of enunciation. A past form (dexaron, v. 2748) closes the sequence and forms a kind of frame with the initial forms: Todos eran idos, ellos IIII solos son, tanto mal comidieron los ifantes de Carrión: […] Allí les tuellen los mantos e los pelliçones, páranlas en cuerpos e en camisas e en ciclatones. Espuelas tienen calçadas los malos traidores, en mano prenden la cinchas fuertes e duradores. Cuando esto vieron las dueñas, fablava doña Sol: […] Lo que ruegan las dueñas non les ha ningún pro, essora les conpieçan a dar los ifantes de Carrión, con las cinchas corredizas májanlas tan sin sabor; con las espuelas agudas, don ellas an mal sabor, ronpién las camisas e las carnes a ellas amas a dos. Linpia salié la sangre sobre los ciclatones, ya lo sienten ellas en los sos coraçones. ¡Cuál ventura serié ésta, sí ploguiesse al Criador, que assomasse essora el Cid Campeador! Tanto las majaron que sin cosimente son, sangrientas an las camisas e todos los ciclatones. Cansados son de ferir ellos amos a dos, ensayándos’ amos cuál dará mejores colpes. Ya non pueden fablar don Elvira e doña Sol, por muertas las dexaron en el robredo de Corpes. (2712-13, 2720-24, 2734-48) Verses 2741-42 further confirm the active role of the narrator, which will now be illustrated more analytically. To begin with, we can distinguish between the actual intrusions of the narrator’s voice and the mere display of the “conventional” narrator’s voice (in the words of John L. Grigsby).20 In the Poema, these voices correspond in most cases21 to an explicit or implicit insistence “sull’io”, 20 21 Grigsby, “Narrative Voices in Chrétien de Troyes”, p. 263. Exceptions may be found in the occurrences in which “I” addressing “you” simply signals a shift between different narrative levels (as in the transition formulae already mentioned 218 Luongo namely, on the narrator’s individuality who asserts himself as judge and interpreter of facts and behavior, and to an implicit or explicit insistence “sul tu”, that is on the allocutions to the receptor or public.22 To this second voice is delegated, as mentioned above, the function of directing (we can add, as an example, the incipit of v. 1085, “Aquí·s’ conpieça la gesta de mio Cid el de Bivar”, as well as the explicit of vv. 2276-77, “¡Las coplas d’este cantar aquí·s’ van acabando, / el Criador vos vala con todos los sos santos!”, and vv. 3729-30: “Éstas son las nuevas de mio Cid el Campeador, / en este logar se acaba esta razón”, which mark the internal articulation between the second and third cantares and the Poema’s conclusion). The same voice, which, even though it follows the tradition, is not completely neuter, is made to utter announcements and exhortations23 to emphasize direct speech (“Fablava mio Cid commo odredes contar”, v. 684; “Mio Cid Ruy Díaz odredes lo que dixo”, v. 1024; “Oíd qué dixo Minaya Álbar Fáñez”, v. 1127; “ Oíd lo que dixo el que en buen ora nasco”, v. 1603), to single out an action (“de los otros quinientos dezirvos he qué faze”, v. 1423) or a description (“Quiérovos dezir lo que es más granado”, v. 1776), to underscore perceptive presentations with an ironic intent (“Al cargar de las arcas veriedes gozo tanto”, v. 170), to arouse admiration (“Tanta cuerda de tienda ý veriedes quebrar / arrancarse las estacas e acostarse a todas partes los tendales”, vv. 1141-42; “Veriedes cavalleros que bien andantes son / besar las manos [e] espedirse del rey Alfonso”, vv. 2158-59; “Veriedes aduzir tanto cavallo corredor, / tanta gruessa mula, tanto palafré de sazón, / tanta buena espada con toda guarnizón”, vv. 3242-44), to arouse admiration in the form of a question (“D’ella part e d’ella pora las vistas se adobavan: / ¿quién vio por Castiella tanta mula preciada / e tanto palafré que bien anda, / cavallos gruessos e corredores sin falla, / tanto buen pendón meter en buenas astas, / escudos boclados con oro o con plata, / mantos e pielles e buenos cendales d’Andria?”, vv. 196571), to signal deixis (“Afevos doña Ximena, con sus fijas dó va llegando”, v. 262; “afevos Rachel e Vidas a los pies le caen”, v. 1431; “Fevos de la otra part los ifantes de Carrión”, v. 3591), to introduce hyperboles (“Llorando de los ojos, que non viestes atal”, v. 374; “Alegre fue el rey, non viestes atanto”, v. 1831; “non viestes tal juego commo iva por la cort”, v. 2307), to make emphatic declarations (“es día 22 23 in vv. 899, 1620, 3708, and v. 1453, “Dirévos de los cavalleros que levaron el mensaje”; v. 2764, “mas yo vos diré d’aquel Félez Muñoz”; v. 3671, “Los dos han arrancado, dirévos de Muño Gustioz”), and viceversa, in those occurrences in which, although formally addressing the “you”, the “I” expresses a personal opinion (it is the case of the admiration for the lavish nuptial celebration in v. 2208, “sabor abriedes de ser e de comer en el palacio”). Segre, Avviamento all’analisi, p. 20. I refer the reader to Mathew Bailey’s chapter in this volume, and in particular to the “principle of performance-enhanced speech” which he discusses. “Mio Cid Ruy Díaz odredes lo que dixo” 219 á de plazo, sepades que non más”, v. 414; “más le vienen a mio Cid, sabet, que no·s’ le van”, v. 1207; “Sabet bien que, si ellos le viessen, non escapara de muert”, v. 2774), to pose rhetorical questions (“e fizieron dos azes de pe[nd]ones mezclados, ¿quí los podrié contar?”, v. 699; “el oro e la plata ¿quién vos lo podrié contar?”, v. 1214; “e los otros averes ¿quién los podrié contar?”, v. 1218), and to express reticence (“dexarévos las posadas, non las quiero contar”, v. 1310).24 This second voice punctuates the entire text intensifying its presence at the crucial moments of the story. As it has become evident, we are dealing with interventions aimed at keeping the spectators’ attention (phatic function), and making them participate in the events being narrated by transforming them into eye- or ear-witnesses of their unfolding (conative function).25 Instead, the “I” of the narrator is almost always revealed indirectly, through exclamations, general assertions, evaluations. Two isolated references to the time of enunciation are highly meaningful: the post factum prophecy, “mientra que sea el pueblo de moros e de la yente cristiana, / el Poyo de mio Cid así·l’ dirán por carta” (vv. 901-02),26 with an implied reference to a “fuero municipal” that guarantees the official status and the survival of the toponym,27 and the allusion to the hero’s royal descendants with which the narrator ends the Poema, “Oy los reyes d’España sos parientes son, / a todos alcança ondra por el que en buen ora nació” (vv. 3724-25), which links the time of the narrator and his spectators (“oy”, “son”) with the time of narration (“el que en buen ora nació”).28 Very frequent, instead, are exclamative expressions which, as in the cases thus-far treated, are used in various ways: to demarcate (in an auspicious manner, v. 870), to admonish (vv. 2274-75), to anticipate (v. 2704), and to evocate (vv. 2741-42). However, the majority are intended as a celebration of the Cid and/or his companions, or to introduce, accompany, or conclude their ventures, actions, or gestures:29 “¡Cuál lidia bien sobre exorado arzón / mio Cid Ruy Díaz, el buen lidiador!”, vv. 733-34; “¡Dios, que bien pagó a todos sus vassallos, / a los peones e a los encavalgados!”, vv. 806-07; “¡Dios, cómmo fue alegre 24 25 26 27 28 29 They are analyzed by Schrott, “¿Quí los podríé contar? Interrogative Acts”. The reference is to the schema of oral communication and to the functions Jakobson connected to it in his study “Linguistics and Poetics”. See Russell, Temas de la “Celestina”, pp. 176-77. According to Montaner Frutos, “Seguramente tal denominación (históricamente documentada) no debe nada a las andanzas del héroe, pero el poeta (o quizá las tradiciones locales en las que se basó) no podían dejar de relacionar el nombre de dicho monte con el del célebre guerrero castellano” (Cantar de Mio Cid, p. 302). As indicated by Soler Bistué, “Historia y ficción”, p. 201. This way of expressing accord with the characters is also due to the Poema’s oral diffusion, sung or recited, as noted by De Chasca, El arte juglaresco, pp. 217-18. 220 Luongo todo aquél fonsado / que Minaya Álbar Fáñez assí era llegado, / diziéndoles saludes de primos e de hermanos, / e de sus compañas, aquellas que avién dexadas! / ¡Dios, cómmo es alegre la barba vellida / que Álbar Fáñez pagó las mill missas / e que·l’ dixo saludes de su mugier e de sus fijas! / ¡Dios, cómmo fue el Cid pagado e fizo grant alegría!”, vv. 926-33; “¡Dios, qué alegre era todo cristianismo, / que en tierras de Valencia señor avié obispo!”, vv. 1305-06; “¡tan grand fue el gozo cuando·l’ vieron assomar!”, v. 1393; “fizo una corrida, ¡ésta fue tan estraña!”, v. 1588; “¡Dios, qué bien tovieron armas el Cid e sus vassallos!”, v. 2243; “Ensayávas’ el obispo, ¡Dios qué bien lidiava!”, v. 2388; “¡Dios, qué bien los sirvió a todo so sabor!”, v. 2650; “¡Ved cuál ondra crece al que en buen ora nació / cuando señoras son sus fijas de Navarra e de Aragón!”, vv. 3722-23. They are also used, though in a reduced number, to sanction the enemies’ conduct: the boastfulness of the Moors (“Veyénlo los de Alcocer, ¡Dios, cómmo se alabavan!”, v. 580); the voracity of the count of Barcelona (“comiendo va el conde, ¡Dios, qué de buen grado!”, v. 1052); the affectation of the Infantes (“de pie e a sabor, ¡Dios, qué quedos entraron!”, v. 2213); their wickedness in the aforementioned v. 2538, which is followed by the narrator’s dissociation from their plan. This confirms the partisanship of the narrator (i.e., ideological function) that, as demonstrated above, also uses other means such as dramatization and comicality.30 Except for one occurrence (vv. 1178-79, “¡Mala cueta es, señores, aver mingua de pan, / fijos e mugieres verlo[s] murir de fanbre!”, meant to evoke empathy in the audience towards the Moors who are besieged in Valencia), the less frequent use of comparisons as well as aphoristic and proverbial expressions has the same aim as exclamatory expressions: to express Rodrigo’s pain upon separating from his wife and daughters (“así·s’ parten unos d’otros, commo la uña de la carne”, v. 375), to increase the value of his prodigality (“qui a buen señor sirve siempre bive en delicio”, v. 850), to sanction the dishonorable defeat of Diego and Fernando on moral terms (“qui buena dueña escarnece e la dexa después / atal le contesca o siquier peor”, vv. 3706-07). The ample and recurrent use of formulaic epithets (the positive ones used to reference the hero cannot be counted) as well as qualifying adjectives and leit motiv-adverbs (mal/ malo(s), referring to the Cid’s slanderers and, following the planning of the afrenta, to the Infantes and their actions), obviously concur in defining a clear axiology of the actants (see infra). Yet, the narrator does not avoid judgment (as in the aforementioned v. 7) in a less stereotypical way, by presenting the 30 Tones which could easily be reflected in the inflections of the minstrel who performed the poem, as observed by C.C. Smith, “Tone of Voice”; Walsh, “Performance”; and Fernández Rodríguez-Escalona and del Brío Carretero, “Sobre la métrica”, pp. 14-15. “Mio Cid Ruy Díaz odredes lo que dixo” 221 Count of Barcelona as a blusterer, who is brave only with his words (“El conde es muy follón e dixo una vanidat”, v. 960); by describing how once freed, the count constantly looks back while walking away, afraid that the Cid will change his mind, “lo que non ferié el caboso por cuanto en el mundo ha, / una deslea[l]tança, ca non la fizo alguandre” (vv. 1080-81); regarding Pero Vermúdez and Muño Gustioz, he points out that “en casa de mio Cid non ha dos mejores” (v. 2170), a comment that is in stark contrast with the subsequent one made about the third of the Vanigómez brothers: “E va ý Asur Gonçález, que era bullidor, / que es largo de lengua, mas en lo ál non es tan pro” (vv. 2172-73); he condemns Diego and Fernando who are planning to kill the Moor Avengalvón, who is “mucho […] buen barragán” (v. 2671), and steal from him, “entramos hermanos consejaron tración” (v. 2660), “Cuando esta falsedad dizién los de Carrión” (v. 2666). Moreover, the narrator often relies on the intervention of a choir, internal in the narration, to ensure the audience’s solidarity with the hero. I will limit my considerations to some examples taken from the first part of the poem. When the exiled Cid arrives in Burgos, the inhabitants of the city observe him from their homes and share in his pain: Exiénlo ver mugieres e varones, burgeses e burgesas por las finiestras son, plorando de los ojos, tanto avién el dolor, de las sus bocas todos dizían una razón: − ¡Dios, qué buen vassallo, si oviesse buen señor! (16b-20) They would willingly offer him their hospitality if King Alfonso’s menacing orders did not weigh over them: Conbidarle ien de grado, mas ninguno non osava: el rey don Alfonso tanto avié la grand saña. Antes de la noche, en Burgos d’él entró su carta con grand recabdo e fuertemientre sellada: que a mio Cid Ruy Díaz que nadi no·l diessen posada, e aquel que ge la diesse sopiesse vera palabra, que perderié los averes e más los ojos de la cara, e aun demás los cuerpos e las almas. (21-28) Therefore, they can only be sorry for his fate: Grande duelo avién las yentes cristianas, ascóndense de mio Cid, ca no l’osan dezir nada. (29-30) 222 Luongo Faced with Rodrigo’s insistence as he tries to kick down the door to “su posada”, the voice of the inhabitants of Burgos materializes, and their powerlessness against temporal injustice is personified in a “niña de nuef años”, who entrusts the Cid to the superior divine justice:31 Cid, en el nuestro mal vós non ganades nada, mas el Criador vos vala con todas sus vertudes santas. (47-48) In this way, the accusation towards the Campeador is represented as false from the very beginning, “con l’effetto di sospingere, da una parte, i suoi agenti” (the mestureros), “e coloro che la favoriscono” (the monarch, who momentarily believes the slanders), “nella sfera del Male, e dall’altra nell’individuare nell’innocente Cid il campione del Bene”.32 With an opposite tone, yet with the analogous goal of having the audience participate, the scene of the hero’s arrival at San Pedro de Cardeña is announced through a beautiful example of “pathetic fallacy”33 by the breaking of a beaming dawn (“Apriessa cantan los gallos e quieren quebrar albores”, v. 235). The cheerfulness of the abbot and his monks running to welcome Rodrigo and opening their doors to his “mesnada” substitutes the “duelo” of the “burgeses” and “burgesas”: Llamavan a la puerta, ý sopieron el mandado. ¡Dios, qué alegre fue el abbat don Sancho! Con lunbres e con candelas al corral dieron salto, con tan grant gozo reciben al que en buen ora nasco. (242-45) Later, when the Campeador abandons Alcocer after selling it back to its inhabitants, the same Moors recognize his valor and appreciate his moderation and fairness:34 31 32 33 34 The prophecy of the archangel Gabriel, who appears to him during the last day he spends in Castile, confirms that the hero is favored by God (vv. 407-09). Gargano, “L’universo sociale della Castiglia”, p. 239. Its use in the Poema has been studied by, among others, Pérez, “La naturaleza”, pp. 275-76; and Rico, Breve biblioteca, pp. 298-99. The Poema arguably reflects tolerance towards Andalusian Muslims, which culminated in instituting the juridical status of the mudéjar, as noted by Richthofen, Nuevos estudios, pp. 84-88; Horrent, Historia y poesía, pp. 338-39; Lacarra, El Poema de mio Cid, pp. 37-39; C.C. Smith, The Making, pp. 102-03; Montaner Frutos, “El Cid: mito y símbolo”, pp. 206, 211; and Piñero Valverde, “Nuevas de alent partes del mar”, pp. 2-5. “Mio Cid Ruy Díaz odredes lo que dixo” 223 Cuando mio Cid el castiello quiso quitar, moros e moras tomáronse a quexar: − ¡Vaste, mio Cid! ¡Nuestras oraciones váyante delante! Nós pagados fincamos, señor, de la tu part. – Cuando quitó a Alcocer mio Cid el de Bivar, moros e moras compeçaron de llorar. (851-56) The sympathy, in the etymological sense, expressed by these and other choirs, causes a greater external resonance,35 uniting the narrator, the audience, the story, and the protagonist in one circle.36 2 The Voice of the Characters We now shift our attention to the characters, their portrayal, and their voice. Excluding information regarding social status and kinship – all ideologically functional elements – we find that epic epithets37 (which indicate the virtues of the hero,38 his wife,39 his trusted companions,40 and King 35 36 37 38 39 40 Varvaro, Letterature romanze, p. 272. See Hempel, “Kollektivrede”; and Girón Alconchel, Las formas del discurso referido, pp. 191-97. A detailed description is offered by Montaner Frutos, Cantar de Mio Cid, pp. 409-11; also see Michael, “A Comparison of the Use of Epic Epithets”; Hamilton, “Epic Epithets”; Webber, “Un aspecto estilístico”; De Chasca, El arte juglaresco, pp. 175-95; Hathaway, “The Art of the Epic Epithets”; Garci-Gómez, “Mio Cid”. Estudios de endocrítica, pp. 278-93; Hook, “The Epic Epithet and Real Life”; and Ranz Yubero, “La relación entre el uso del epíteto”. According to Montaner, “Especial rendimiento ofrece el epíteto astrológico […], que se refiere al favorable influjo estelar bajo el que el Cid había nacido o bajo el que había sido armado caballero. Las formas básicas de cada versión son (el) que en buen ora nasco y (el) que en buen ora cinxo espada, pero existen variedades que permiten emplear esta expresión tan laudatoria con diversas rimas (á, á-a, á-o, ó, e í-o) y tanto en pasajes narrativos como en estilo directo” (Cantar de Mio Cid, p. 410); see also Pellen, “Le modéle du vers épique espagnol”. For example, “mugier ondrada” (vv. 284, 1647, 2187), “querida e ondrada mugier” (v. 1604), “mugier de pro” (v. 2519), “dueña […] de pro” (v. 3039). Martín Antolínez: “el burgalés de pro” (vv. 736, 1992b, 2837, 3066, 3191), “el burgalés conplido” (v. 65), “un burgalés contado” (v. 193), “un burgalés leal” (v. 1459), “el burgalés natural” (v. 1500); Álvar Fáñez: “cavallero de prestar” (vv. 671, 1432), “el (al) bueno de Minaya” (vv. 1426, 1430, 1583); don Jerónimo: “coronado de prestar” (v. 1460), “coronado leal” (v. 1501), “caboso coronado” (v. 1793). 224 Luongo Alfonso41), connotative and symbolic traits (for instance, the Cid’s beard42), and some brief comments (mentioned above), in the Poema both prosopography (the physical, exterior description of characters) and etopeia (the moral and psychological portrait) are generally absent.43 There are a few exceptions, such as the conventional representation of don Jerónimo:44 “el obispo don Jerónimo so nombre es llamado, / bien entendido es de letras e mucho acordado, / de pie e de cavallo mucho era arreziado”, vv. 1289-91; the emphasis on the taciturn nature of Pero Vermúdez: “Pero Vermúez conpeçó de fablar; / detiénes’le la lengua, non puede delibrar, / mas cuando enpieça, sabed, no·l’ da vagar”, vv. 3306-08; or the buffonish depiction of Asur González, a prelude to his intervention at the cortes: “Asur Gonçález entrava por el palacio, / manto armiño e un brial rastrando, / vermejo viene, ca era almorzado, / en lo que fabló avié poco recabdo”, vv. 3373-76. The narrator does not employ introspection either, i.e., he does not reveal the conscience or mental processes of his characters, limiting his narration to the episodic communication of impressions or emotions, usually simple verifications on the effects of some events (“ya vie mio Cid que Dios le iva valiendo”, v. 1096; “cuédanse que essora cadrán muertos los que están aderredor”, v. 3622).45 Therefore, the creatures he crafts, as in 41 42 43 44 45 For example, “rey ondrado” (vv. 878, 1959, 2980), “Alfonso el castellano” (vv. 1790, 2976), “Alfonso el de Léon” (vv. 1927, 3536, 3543, 3718), “el (al) buen rey don Alfonso” (vv. 2825, 3001, 3024, 3108, 3127). Significantly, epithets associated to the sovereign are more frequent as the narration proceeds, and as he gradually distances himself from “enemigos malos” of the hero, who thus transforms the king in a positive character. About the functions of the Cid’s beard, which are also structural, see Bly, “Beards in the Poema de Mio Cid”; Burt, “Honor and the Cid’s Beard”; and Conde López, “Construcción de sentido y dinamismo textual”. This is part of the more general “economía verbal del poema”, which is highlighted by, among others, Miletich, “Medieval Spanish Epic”, “Repetition and Aesthetic Function”; and Hook, “Verbal Economy and Structural Ecology”. I do not consider here elements which are broadly descriptive, such as clothing, arms, mounts, metonymical objects, etc., that in the Poema are never purely ornamental or digressive but always have an emblematic function. Clothing “permite distinguir e identificar a su portador como miembro de una determinada colectividad y […] complementariamente puede expresar una posición social, una cualidad o una función concretas” (García López, “La indumenteria emblemática”, p. 368). The bishop embodies the figure of the clerical warrior who brings together sapientia and fortitudo; the “ojos vellidos” (v. 1612) and white complexion (“tan blancas commo el sol”) of the hero’s daughters are also extremely conventional. These few occurrences are analyzed by Girón Alconchel, Las formas del discurso referido, pp. 86-88, 197-200. “Mio Cid Ruy Díaz odredes lo que dixo” 225 most medieval romance narratives,46 are simply characterized by their actions (the pragmatic sphere in which they operate) and, even before they act or during their actions, by what they say (the speech acts they enunciate). “Las almas se desnudan hablando”, wrote Damaso Alonso.47 The attitudes and peculiarities of the characters, “l’indole e la volontà” that motivate their behavior,48 the relationships they establish, the “system” in which they function are primarily defined by their own discourse.49 Compared with the traditionally high standards of epic poetry, eminently mimetic in form, the discourse in the Poema, mostly made up of direct speech,50 but also of reported and free indirect speech, assumes great importance.51 The most important discourse is obviously that of the protagonist. His initial words, as already seen (vv. 6-9 cited at the beginning of the present chapter), are characterized by moderation and equilibrium. In the same way in which he resigns himself to his unfair banishment – that initiates the first part of the plot – the hero accepts, as God’s test for which he must give thanks, the news of the outrage suffered by his daughters in Corpes – which initiates the second part – with an analogous opening formula, characteristic of the hero, and the gesture of touching his beard to which the Poema attributes a clear oratorical value:52 una grand ora pensó e comidió, alçó la su mano, a la barba se tomó: − ¡Grado a Christus, que del mundo es señor, 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 On this topic, Varvaro’s essay, “La costruzione del personaggio”, is essential. Alonso, Ensayos sobre poesía española, p. 89. Segre, Le strutture e il tempo, pp. 45-46. More precisely, by the content and tone of their discourse. Features pertaining to an “idiolect” are rare, as in the case of swearing to Esidro, which is exclusive to King Alfonso, who historically has been identified as his devout follower; or the use of tu instead of vos, which except for the case of Avengalvón, is a characteristic of the discourse of Muslims, reflecting the Romance used by Andalusians. It may be introduced by a verbum dicendi, a “narrative clue” (constituted not by a diction verb, for example sonrisarse, or by a formula, such as en pie se levantó, which preludes to words enunciated by the character); Girón Alconchel’s study, Las formas del dicurso referido, is central to this discussion, and may be read alongside Alonso, “El anuncio del estilo directo”; Geary, Formulaic Diction, pp. 34-56, 119-22; and Montgomery, “Marking Voices and Places”. Multi-layer utterances, which combine different types of reported speech, are also present. Therefore, the same speech can be made in part in direct style and in part in reported speech fusing words and facts (for example, vv. 574-610, 1787-91, and 1819-20). Caldera, “L’oratoria”, p. 7. 226 Luongo cuando tal ondra me an dada los ifantes de Carrión! ¡Par aquesta barba que nadi non messó, non la lograrán los ifantes de Carrión, que a mis fijas bien las casaré yo! (2828-34) Mesura – that is, self-control, control over situations, and control over impulses (rebellion in one case and revenge in the other) – is the trait of the Cid’s character53 that cements a series of complementary qualities (shrewdness, humor, commitment to his family, caution, far-sightedness, being a good tactician, comradeship, leadership, eloquence, bravery, loyalty, generosity, authority, etc.)54 that can ultimately be ascribed to the topical pair sapientia and fortitudo.55 Some of these qualities are expressed through cunning irony as when the Cid welcomes Rachel and Vidas56 (the episode is introduced by “Sonirisós’”, which in all other instances connotes a friendly and positive disposition): Sonrisós’ mio Cid, estávalos fablando: − ¡Ya don Rachel e Vidas, avédesme olbidado! Ya me exco de tierra, ca del rey só airado; a lo que·m’ semeja, de lo mio avredes algo, mientra que vivades non seredes menguados. (154-58) Or by the witty remarks directed at Count Ramón when the Cid leans over him and urges him to eat as if he were a baby:57 53 54 55 56 57 Critics of the Poema have unanimously recognized this; see Menéndez Pidal, En torno al “Poema del Cid”, pp. 226-31; Galmés de Fuentes; “Épica árabe y épica castellana”, pp. 157-59; López Estrada, Panorama crítico, pp. 115-17; C.C. Smith, The Making of the Poema de mio Cid, pp. 93-94; Gargano, “Tra difetto ed eccesso di prodezza”, pp. 315 onward; Deyermond, El “Cantar de Mio Cid”, pp. 23-26; and Moreno Castillo, “El Cantar del Cid”, pp. 33-38. Regarding this quality of the medieval hero, see Huppé, “The Concept of the Hero”; Pickering, “Historical Thought and Moral Codes”; and Zotz, “El mundo caballeresco”. They are highlighted by, among others, Menéndez Pidal, La España del Cid, vol. II, pp. 593624; De Chasca, El arte juglaresco, pp. 125-46; López Estrada, Panorama crítico, pp. 62-68, 111-31; and Mallorquí Ruscalleda, “La configuración del protagonista”. The reference to Curtius, Europäische Literatur, cap. IX, §§ 2-4, is fundamental here. Also see Schafler, “Sapientia et fortitudo”; Hart, “Characterization and Plot Structure”, pp. 64-68; Murray, Razón y sociedad, pp. 144-57; Misrahi and Hendrickson, “Roland and Oliver”; and Montaner Frutos, “El Cid: mito y símbolo”, pp. 266-69. Connected to the hilaritas and curialis facecia studied by Le Goff, “Laughter in the Middle Ages”; and Zotz, “El mundo caballeresco”, in particular pp. 180, 185, and 187. Regarding this episode, see Moon, “Humor in the Poema del Cid”, pp. 702-03; Oleza, “Análisis estructural del humorismo”, pp. 197-207; West, “A Proposed Literary Context”; Corfis, “Mio Cid Ruy Díaz odredes lo que dixo” 227 Sobr’él sedié el que en buen ora nasco: − Si bien non comedes, conde, don yo sea pagado, aquí feremos la morada, no nos partiremos amos. (1053-55) During the farewell, the Cid plays on the double meaning of the term “franco” (‘Catalan’ and ‘free man’ – but in this context it also takes on the meaning of ‘boastful, self-conscious’), which contrasts with “castellano” in the previous verse: fata cabo del albergada escurriólos el castellano: − ¡Ya vos ides, conde, a guisa de muy franco! ¡En grado vos lo tengo lo que me avedes dexado! Si vos viniere emiente que quisiéredes vengallo, si me viniéredes buscar, fallarme podredes, e si non, mandedes buscar, o me dexaredes de lo vuestro o de lo mio levaredes algo. (1067-73) The Cid reveals his worries and displays affection for his wife and daughters,58 who are lovingly addressed: llora de los ojos, tan fuertemientre sospira: − ¡Ya doña Ximena, la mi mugier tan conplida, commo a la mi alma yo tanto vos quería! Ya lo vedes, que partirnos emos en vida, yo iré, e vós fincaredes remanida. ¡Plega a Dios e a Santa María que aún con mis manos case estas mis fijas, o qué dé ventura e algunos días vida, e vós, mugier ondrada, de mí seades servida! (277-84) Oíd lo que dixo el que en buen ora nasco: − Vós querida e ondrada mugier, e amas mis fijas, mi coraçón e mi alma, entrad comigo en Valencia la casa, en esta heredad que vos yo he ganada. (1603-07) 58 “The Count of Barcelona Episode”; Esposito, “Comed, comde”; C.C. Smith, “Tone of Voice”, pp. 9-12; Ryan, “Del día que fue conde”; and Bautista, “Comed, conde”. These feelings are especially emphasized by A. González, “Los sentimientos del Cid”. 228 Luongo The Campeador shows caution and makes shared and wise decisions (as in the efficacy, among others, of his words in the third example below, where, according to the laws of rhetoric, a solemn announcement always follows a maxim): − Moros en paz, ca escripta es la carta, buscarnos ie el rey Alfonso con toda su mesnada. Quitar quiero Castejón; oíd, escuelas e Minaya, lo que yo dixier non lo tengades a mal: en Casejón non podriemos fincar, cerca es el rey Alfonso e buscarnos verná, mas el castiello non lo quiero hermar, ciento moros e ciento moras quiérolas quitar, porque lo pris d’ellos, que de mí non digan mal. Todos sodes pagados e ninguno por pagar, cras a la mañana pensemos de cavalgar; con Alfonso mio señor non querría lidiar. (527-38) mio Cid con los sos tornós’ a acordar: − El agua nos an vedada, exirnos ha el pan. Que nos queramos ir de noch no nos lo consintrán; grandes son los poderes por con ellos lidiar. Dezidme, cavalleros, cómmo vos plaze de far. (666-70) Sonrisós’ el caboso, que non lo pudo endurar: − ¡Ya cavalleros! Dezirvos he la verdad: qui en un logar mora siempre lo so puede menguar. Cras a la mañana pensemos de cavalgar, dexat estas posadas e iremos adelant. (946-50) His ability to lead is revealed by the firmness with which Rodrigo gives orders: − ¡Ya cavalleros, apart fazed la ganancia, apriessa vos guarnid e metedos en las armas! El conde don Remont darnos ha grant batalla, de moros e de cristianos gentes trae sobejanas, a menos de batalla non nos dexarié por nada. Pues adelant irán tras nós, aquí sea la batalla; apretad los cavallos e bistades las armas. Ellos vienen cuesta yuso e todos traen calças, e las siellas coceras e las cinchas amojadas; “Mio Cid Ruy Díaz odredes lo que dixo” nós cavalgaremos siellas gallegas e huesas sobre calças, ciento cavalleros devemos vencer [a] aquellas mesnadas. Antes que ellos lleguen al llano presentémosles las lanças: por uno que firgades tres siellas irán vazias. Verá Remont Verenguel tras quién vino en alcança, oy en este pinar de Tévar por tollerme la ganancia. (985-99) alegre es mio Cid por cuanto fecho han: − ¡Oídme, cavalleros, non rastará por ál: oy es día bueno e mejor será cras! Por la mañana prieta todos armados seades. Dezirnos ha la missa e pensad de cabalgar, el obispo do[n] Jéronimo soltura nos dará. Irlos hemos ferir en el nombre del Criador e del apóstol Santi Yagüe. ¡Más vale que nós lo vezcamos que ellos cojan el pan! (1684-91) When he addresses his companions, the Cid speaks with dignity: el que en buena ora nasco compeçó de fablar: − ¡Oíd, mesnadas, sí el Criador vos salve! Después que nos partiemos de la linpia cristiandad (non fue a nuestro grado ni nós non pudiemos más), grado a Dios, lo nuestro fue adelant. Los de Valencia cercados nos han; si en estas tierras quisiéremos durar, firmemientre son éstos a escarmentar. Passe la noche e venga la mañana, aparejados me sed a cavallos e armas; iremos ver aquella su almofalla. Commo omnes exidos de tierra estraña, allí pareçrá el que merece la soldada. (1114-26) The hero is bold in battle: ¡En el nombre del Criador e del apóstol Santi Yagüe, feridlos, cavalleros, d’amor e de grado e de grand voluntad, ca yo só Ruy Díaz, mio Cid el de Bivar! (1138-40) 229 230 Luongo He proves his loyalty in the declarations of fealty to the king who has banished him:59 alégras’le el coraçón e tornós’ a sonrisar: − ¡Grado a Dios, Minaya, e a Santa María madre, con más pocos ixiemos de la casa de Bivar! Agora avemos riqueza, más avremos adelant. Si a vós ploguiere, Minaya, e non vos caya en pesar, enbiarvos quiero a Castiella, do avemos heredades, al rey Alfonso, mio señor natural; d’estas mis ganancias que avemos fechas acá darle quiero C cavallos e vós idgelos levar. Desí, por mí besalde la mano e firme ge lo rogad por mi mugier e mis fijas, si fuere su merced, que·m’ las dexe sacar. (1266-77) Rodrigo always keeps his promises of rich rewards and lavish donations: Fabló mio Cid de toda voluntad: − Yo ruego a Dios e al Padre spirital, vós que por mí dexades casas e heredades, enantes que yo muera, algún bien vos pueda far, lo que perdedes, doblado vos lo cobrar. (299-303) Sobre el so cavallo Bavieca mio Cid salto dava: − Aquí lo digo ante mio señor el rey Alfonso: qui quiere ir comigo a las bodas o recebir mi don, d’aquend vaya comigo, cuedo que l’avrá pro (2127-30) The hero is calm and expresses himself with gravity and juridical rigor at the cortes of Toledo:60 59 60 The relationship between the Cid and King Alfonso has been studied in detail by De Chasca, “The King-Vassal Relationship” (also in El arte juglaresco, pp. 63-82); Hart, “Hierarchical Patterns”; Pollmann, La épica en las literaturas románicas, pp. 72 onward; Clarke, Crucial Line 20; Walker, “The Role of the King”; West, “King and Vassal”, “Mediaeval Historiography Misconstrued”, and “The Cid and Alfonso VI”; Pardo, “La imagen del rey”; Duggan, The “Cantar de Mio Cid”, pp. 33-35; C. González, “El conflicto entre el héroe y el rey”; and Pedrosa, “El Cid donador”. See Pavlović and Walker, “Roman Forensic Procedure” and “A Reappraisal of the Closing Scenes”. “Mio Cid Ruy Díaz odredes lo que dixo” 231 Mio Cid la mano besó al rey e en pie se levantó: − Mucho vos lo gradesco, commo a rey e a señor, por cuanto esta cort fiziestes por mi amor. Esto les demando a ifantes de Carrión: por mis fijas que·m’ dexaron yo non he desonor, ca vós las casastes, rey, sabredes qué fer oy; mas cuando sacaron mis fijas de Valencia la mayor, yo bien los quería d’alma e de coraçón, diles dos espadas, a Colada e a Tizón (éstas yo las gané a guisa de varón), que s’ondrassen con ellas e sirviessen a vós. Cuando dexaron mis fijas en el robredo de Corpes, comigo non quisieron aver nada e perdieron mi amor: ¡denme mis espadas cuando mios yernos non son! (3145-58) − ¡Merced, [ya] rey señor, por amor de caridad! La rencura mayor non se me puede olbidar; oídme toda la cort e pésevos de mio mal; de los ifantes de Carrión, que·m’ desondraron tan mal, a menos de riebtos no los puedo dexar. Dezid, ¿qué vos merecí, ifantes, en juego o en vero o en alguna razón? Aquí lo mejoraré a juvizio de la cort. ¿A qué·m’ descubriestes las telas del coraçón? A la salida de Valencia mis fijas vos di yo con muy grand ondra e averes a nombre. Cuando las non queriedes, ya canes traidores, ¿por qué las sacávades de Valencia, sus honores? ¿A qué las firiestes a cinchas e a espolones? Solas las dexastes en el robredo de Corpes, a las bestias fieras e a las aves del mont. ¡Por cuanto les fiziestes, menos valedes vós ! Si non recudedes, véalo esta cort. (3253-69) Different tones and registers also are skillfully used to characterize the speech of other characters.61 Thus, Jimena62 stands out because of the religious devo61 62 For a description of the main characters of the Poema, see C.C. Smith, Poema de mio Cid, pp. 341-60; and Montaner Frutos, “El Cid: mito y símbolo”, pp. 260-74. For a study of her character, I refer the reader to Ratcliffe, Jimena, pp. 25-62. 232 Luongo tion of her prayers (the longest one takes up vv. 330-65) and the passive nature of her replies: Ant’el Campeador, doña Ximena fincó los inojos amos, llorava de los ojos, quísol’ besar las manos: − ¡Merced, Canpeador, en ora buena fuestes nado! Por malos mestureros de tierra sodes echado. ¡Merced, ya Cid, barba tan conplida! Fem’ ante vós yo e vuestras fijas, ifantes son e de días chicas, con aquesteas mis dueñas, de quien só yo servida. Yo lo veo, que estades vós en ida, e nós de vós partirnos hemos en vida: ¡dadnos consejo, por amor de Santa María! (264-73) Álvar Fáñez distinguishes himself for frequently making recommendations to the Campeador, and for his declarations of unshakable loyalty – which make him, in the words of the protagonist, his “diestro braço” (vv. 753, 810), a sort of double (“Dixo el Campeador: − A mi guisa fablastes, / ondrástevos, Minaya, ca avérvoslo iedes de far. −”, vv. 677-78) –, and for his diplomatic skills shown in the three embassies to King Alfonso.63 According to Ermanno Caldera,64 the second mission is a small masterpiece of eloquence (“fabló tan apuesto”, as the narrator remarks): − ¡Merced, señor Alfonso, por amor del Criador! Besávavos las manos mio Cid lidiador, los pies e las manos, commo a tan buen señor, que l’ayades merced, sí vos vala el Criador. Echástesle de tierra, non ha la vuestra amor; maguer en tierra agena, él bien faze lo so: ganada á [a] Xérica e a Onda por nombre, priso a Almenar e a Murviedro, que es miyor, assí fizo Cebolla e adelant Castejón 63 64 The role of the Cid’s “diestro braço” is analyzed in detail by Menéndez Pidal, En torno al “Poema del Cid”, pp. 167-70; Varvaro, “Dalla storia alla poesia”; Garci-Gómez, “Mio Cid”. Estudios de endocrítica, pp. 68-83; Martínez, El “Poema de Almería”, pp. 375-88; Montaner Frutos, “El Cid: mito y símbolo”, pp. 262-63; Pavlović and Walker, “Asil creçe la ondra”; R.R. Smith, “Álvar Fáñez: el alter-ego”; and Kaplan, “Friend ‘of’ Foe”. Caldera, “L’oratoria”, pp. 8-10. “Mio Cid Ruy Díaz odredes lo que dixo” 233 e Peña Cadiella, que es una peña fuert; con aquestas todas de Valencia es señor. Obispo fizo de su mano el buen Campeador e fizo cinco lides campales e todas las arrancó. Grandes son las ganancias que·l’ dio el Criador, fevos aquí las señas, verdad vos digo yo: cient cavallos gruessos e corredores, de siellas e de frenos todos guarnidos son, bésavos las manos que los prendades vós ; razónas’ por vuestro vassallo e a vós tiene por señor. (1321-39) The principal divisions recommended by rhetoricians are easily recognized in this speech: the exordium (vv. 1321-23), with the address to the king and the obsequious greeting; the narratio (vv. 1324-26), the request of forgiveness and exposition of the case: the Cid, even if exiled, conducts himself as a faithful vassal; the argumentatio (vv. 1327-38), the longest part of the speech, in which Rodrigo’s loyalty is demonstrated, consisting in a long list of his conquests and in the reasons which should persuade the king to grant his pardon: the heroism of the Campeador, the actual power he has acquired, and, lastly, the gifts he has sent whose value is detailed; the conclusio, condensed in a single verse, notably charged and expressive (1339).65 Martín Antolínez should also be mentioned not only because of the way he shrewdly outwits the moneylenders in Burgos, but because of his planning, lucidity, and the choices that he makes:66 65 66 According to Caldera, “Se poi se ne osserva l’intima struttura, non è difficile scorgervi sapienti rispondenze fra le varie parti. Tale l’espressione ‘besavavos las manos’ del secondo verso, che ritorna, con perfetta simmetria, nel ‘besavos las manos’ del penultimo; tali, nella parte centrale, i quattro versi dedicati all’elenco delle conquiste, cui fanno riscontro altrettanti nei quali viene descritto il bottino radunato. Occorrerà pure rilevare l’iterazione nel primo emistichio dei vv. 1322 e 1323 […], o il parallelismo chiastico fra i primi emistichi dei vv. 1325 e 1326 […], in cui l’aggettivo del secondo verso richiama il verbo del primo (per non rilevare la troppo evidente contrapposizione fra i due secondi emistichi). E si dovrà ancora sottolineare l’amplificazione retorica – la quale non solo risponde a un’esigenza formale, ma giova a imprimere una particolare forza al contenuto – che compare, oltre che nel […] verso finale, anche nel v. 1330” (“L’oratoria”, pp. 9-10). By serving his lord and sharing his destiny, he is counting on the hope that one day he will be able to regain the king’s friendship once the fracture between Rodrigo and the king is overcome –also thanks to his support – and the order is re-established; see Gargano, “L’universo sociale della Castiglia”, pp. 205-08. 234 Luongo Fabló Martín A[n]tolínez, odredes lo que á dicho: − ¡Ya Canpeador, en buen ora fuestes nacido! Esta noch y[a]gamos e váimosnos al matino, ca acusado seré por lo que vos he servido, en ira del rey Alfonso yo seré metido. Si convusco escapo sano o bivo, aun cerca o tarde el rey quererm’á por amigo; si non, cuanto dexo no lo precio un figo. (70-77) Dixo Martín Antolínez, − Veré a la mugier a todo mio solaz; castigarlos he cómmo abrán a far. Si el rey me lo quisiere tomar, a mí non m’incal. Antes seré convusco que el sol quiera rayar. (228-31) As expected, King Alfonso distinguishes himself for the formal nature of his declarations, often introduced with appeals and calls for attention which are typical of a public allocution:67 − ¡Oídme, las escuelas, cuendes e ifançones! Cometer quiero un ruego a mio Cid el Campeador, assí lo mande Christus que sea a so pro: vuestras fijas vos pido, don Elvira e doña Sol, que las dedes por mugieres a los ifantes de Carrión. Seméjam’ el casamiento ondrado e con grant pro, ellos vos las piden e mándovoslo yo. D’ella e d’ella parte cuantos que aquí son, Los míos e los vuestros, que sean rogadores : ¡dándoslas, mio Cid, sí vos vala el Criador! (2072-81) Yet, the king is a unique case: he is the only character who evolves. If at the beginning of the Poema he is associated with the agents of evil, the “enemigos malos”, and is responsible for the injustices towards the hero, he progressively distances himself from the initial posture until finally recognizing his mistake (vv. 1890-91).68 The “saña” that results in the Cid’s exile is transformed into friendship in a process marked by the three “presentajas” (gifts) sent by the Campeador, who receives larger and larger concessions from King Alfonso. As an example of this progression, it suffices to compare the reaction to Álvar 67 68 Caldera, “L’oratoria”, p. 6. The process is analyzed in detail by Lacarra, “La representación del rey Alfonso”. “Mio Cid Ruy Díaz odredes lo que dixo” 235 Fáñez’s first and second embassies; in the first case, without formalities and not devoid of irony, commencing with the apostrophe of v. 874, not to mention the deriding vulgarity of v. 881:69 − ¿Quí·n’ los dio éstos, sí vos vala Dios, Minaya? – […] Dixo el rey: − Mucho es mañana omne airado, que de señor non ha gracia, por acogello a cabo de tres semanas. Mas, después que de moros fue, prendo esta presentaja; aún me plaze de mio Cid, que fizo tal ganancia. Sobr’esto todo, a vos quito, Minaya; honores e tierras avellas condonadas. Id e venit, d’aquí vos dó mi gracia, mas del Cid Campeador yo non vos digo nada. (874, 881-89) Compare this reaction with the majestic tone of King Alfonso’s response to the second plea: Alçó la mano diestra, el rey se santigó: − De tan fieras ganancias commo á fechas el Campeador, sí me vala Sant Esidro, plazme de coraçón e plázem’ de las nuevas que faze el Campeador; recibo estos cavallos que m’enbía de don. − […] ¡Oídme, escuelas e toda la mi cort! Non quiero que nada pierda el Campeador: a todas las escuelas que a él dizen señor porque los deseredé, todo ge lo suelto yo; sírvanle[s] sus heredades do fuere el Campeador, atrégoles los cuerpos de mal e de ocasión, por tal fago aquesto que sirvan a so señor. (1340-44, 1360-66) The Campeador’s immutable rivals are instead identified by the axiological distinction between “good” and “evil” typically found in epic poetry.70 The clash with the Cid – which is only a possibility during the first part, since the enemies are the main cause of Rodrigo’s misfortune – becomes effective in 69 70 Caldera, “L’oratoria”, p. 8. See Zumthor, Essai de poétique médiévale, pp. 325-26. 236 Luongo the second part through the personification of evil in the Infantes of Carrión.71 The trait that distinguishes, and at the same time associates, the brothers’ voices (at times literally, since the two speak in unison) is the duplicity, the mendacious and deceptive nature of their conversations. This is what Pero Vermúdez openly brings up against Fernando at the cortes: “¡Lengua sin manos, cuémo osas fablar!” (v. 3328), and what Martín Antolínez ascribes to Diego: “¡Calla, alevoso, boca sin verdad!” (v. 3362). According to Caldera, “All’uno e all’altro s’impone di tacere in nome di quella verità che la loro lingua e la loro bocca hanno violata”.72 As I mentioned earlier, the Infantes often confabulate among themselves on the side declaring in private what they would never publicly confess. When King Bucar’s army surrounds Valencia: Amos hermanos apart salidos son: − Catamos la ganancia e la pérdida no. Ya en esta batalla a entrar abremos nós, esto es aguisado por non ver Carrión, bibdas remandrán fijas del Campeador. (2319-23) Fernando misrepresents their vile behavior during the battle, a brag that arouses sarcasm among the Cid’s men: Venciemos moros en campo e matamos a aquel rey Bucar, traidor provado. […] A estas palabras fabló Ferrán Gonçález: − Grado al Criador e a vós, Cid ondrado, tantos avemos de averes que no son contados. Por vós avemos ondra e avemos lidiado. Pensad de lo otro, que lo nuestro tenémoslo en salvo. (2522-23, 2527-31) 71 72 Numerous studies have been dedicated to the Infantes – who are represented as greedy, mean, and cowardly from the first episode in which they appear – as well as to their antagonistic relationship with Rodrigo, whom they challenge by means of their rank. For more on this matter, see Alonso, Ensayos sobre poesía española, pp. 84-90; Hart, “The Infantes de Carrión” and “Hierarchical Patterns”, pp. 169-72; De Chasca, El arte juglaresco, pp. 100-03, 192-94, 305-08; López Estrada, Panorama crítico, pp. 157-61; Montaner Frutos, “El Cid: mito y símbolo”, pp. 234-35, 271-72; Montgomery, “The Rethoric of Solidarity”, pp. 201-04; Duggan, The “Cantar de Mio Cid”, pp. 36-41; Sears, “Echado de tierra”, pp. 59-89; and Alberro, “Las tres funciones”. Caldera, “L’oratoria”, p. 26. “Mio Cid Ruy Díaz odredes lo que dixo” 237 The two brothers harbor resentment, plot revenge (vv. 2540-56), and justify their departure by lying: Con aqueste consejo amos tornados son, fabló Ferrán Gonçález e fizo callar la cort: − ¡Sí vos vala el Criador, Cid Campeador! Que plega a doña Ximena e primero a vós, e a Minaya Álvar Fáñez e a cuantos aquí son: dadnos nuestras mugieres que avemos a bendiciones, levarlas hemos a nuestras tierras de Carrión, meterlas hemos en las villas que les diemos por arras e por onores. Verán vuestras fijas lo que avemos nós, los fijos que oviéremos en qué avrán partición. (2557-67) Opposite to their false words − which reflect their mean, disloyal, shifty, and premeditated behavior, which also violates the feudal and familial bond that connects them to the hero − stands Rodrigo’s wise and measured eloquence, reflected in his cautious, noble, loyal, transparent, and unpremeditated behavior. The moral distinction73 between the Cid and the values he represents, and those of the rival camp personified by the Infantes of Carrión who do not share the same beliefs, underscores the clear-cut differentiation centered around the correspondence/discordance separating intentions, utterances, and their ensuing actions. Works Cited Primary Sources Cantar de Mio Cid. Texto, gramática y vocabulario, Ramón Menéndez Pidal (ed.), 3 vols., 5th ed., Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1977. Cantar de Mio Cid, Alberto Montaner Frutos (ed.), Biblioteca Clásica de la Real Academia Española, 1, preliminary study by Francisco Rico, Barcelona: Galaxia GutenbergCirculo de Lectores, 2011. Poema de mio Cid, Colin C. Smith (ed.), Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1972. 73 I here draw upon Varvaro, “Il Couronnement de Louis”, p. 340. 238 Luongo Secondary Sources Aguirre, José María, “Poema de Mio Cid: rima y oralidad”, La Corónica 7.2 (1979), 107-08. Alberro, Manuel, “Las tres funciones dumezilianas y las tradiciones mitológicas indoeuropeas de los ‘mellizos devinos’ reflejadas en las leyendas acerca de El Cid”, Polis 15 (2003), 35-62. Alonso, Dámaso, Ensayos sobre poesía española, Madrid: Revista de Occidente, 1944. Alonso, Dámaso, “El anuncio del estilo directo en el Poema del Cid”, in Fred Dethier (ed.), Mélanges offerts à Rita Lejeune, 2 vols., Gembloux: J. Duculot, 1969, vol. I, pp. 379-93. Bautista, Francisco, “Comed, conde: las transformaciones de un ritual del Cantar de Mio Cid a Diego de Valera”, in Nelly Labère (ed.), Être à table au Moyen Âge, Madrid: Casa de Velázquez, 2010, pp. 65-75. Bly, Peter A., “Beards in the Poema de Mio Cid: Structural and Contextual Patterns”, Forum for Modern Language Studies 14 (1978), 16-24. Burt, John R., “Honor and the Cid’s Beard”, La Corónica 9.2 (1981), 132-37. Cacho Blecua, Juan Manuel, “El espacio en el Cantar de Mio Cid”, Revista de Historia Jerónimo Zurita 55 (1987), 23-42. Caldera, Ermanno, “L’oratoria nel Poema de Mio Cid”, Miscellanea di Studi Ispanici 10 (1965), 5-29. Casalduero, Joaquín, Estudios de literatura española, Madrid: Gredos, 1973. Clarke, Dorothy C., Crucial Line 20 of the “Poema de mio Cid”: Its Meaning and its Structural Use, El Cerrito (Ca.): Shadi, 1976. Conde López, Juan Carlos, “Construcción de sentido y dinamismo textual: la barba como símbolo en el Poema de mio Cid”, in Carlos Alvar, Fernando Gómez Redondo, and Georges Martin (eds.), El Cid: de la materia épica a las crónicas caballerescas. Actas del Congreso Internacional “IX Centenario de la Muerte del Cid”, celebrado en la Universidad de Acalá de Henares los días 19 y 20 de noviembre de 1999, Alcalá de Henares: Universidad de Acalá, 2002, pp. 211-41. Corfis, Ivy A., “The Count of Barcelona Episode and French Customary Law in the Poema de Mio Cid”, La Corónica 12.2 (1983-84), 169-77. Curtius, Ernst Robert, Europäische Literatur und lateinishes Mittelalter, Bern: Francke, 1948. De Chasca, Edmund, “The King-Vassal Relationship in El Poema de Mio Cid”, Hispanic Review 21 (1953), 183-92. 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Deyermond (ed.), Mio Cid Studies, London: Tamesis Books, 1977, pp. 195-208. “Mio Cid Ruy Díaz odredes lo que dixo” 245 West, Geoffrey, “A Proposed Literary Context for the Count of Barcelona Episode of the Cantar de Mio Cid”, Bulletin of Hispanic Studies 58 (1981), 1-12. West, Geoffrey, “Mediaeval Historiography Misconstrued: The Exile of the Cid, Rodrigo Díaz, and the Supposed invidia of Alfonso VI”, Medium Aevum 52 (1983), 286-99. West, Geoffrey, “The Cid and Alfonso VI Re-Visited: Characterization in the Poema de mio Cid”, in Brian Powell and Geoffrey West (eds.), Al que en buen hora naçio: Essays on the Spanish Epic and Ballad in Honour of Colin Smith, Liverpool: University Press, Modern Humanities Research Association, 1996, pp. 161-69. Zotz, Thomas, “El mundo caballeresco y las formas de vida cortesanas”, in Josef Fleckenstein (in collaboration with Thomas Zotz), La caballería y el mundo caballeresco, transl. José Luis Gil Aristu, Madrid: Siglo XXI, Real Maestranza de Caballería de Ronda, Fundación Cultural de la Nobleza Española, 2006, pp. 163-219. Zumthor, Paul, Essai de poétique médiévale, Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 1972. 246 Figure 7.1 Singular combat (David and Goliath) and open-field battle (the Israelites against the Philistines). Miniatures of the Biblia románica (1162) (León, Colegiata de San Isidoro, codex 2). With kind permission of the MUSEO DE LA REAL COLEGIATA de San Isidoro. Luongo Oral Expression in the Poema de mio Cid 247 Chapter 8 Oral Expression in the Poema de mio Cid Matthew Bailey The extent to which oral expression shapes the Poema de mio Cid has been a lively issue among scholars, who for some time understood oral composition and writing as mutually exclusive endeavors, representative of two distinct worlds, the unlettered and the learned. More recently, the polemical question of the Cid’s oral composition has been effectively shelved in favor of an approach that recognizes varying degrees of literate and oral influences. The learned influences in the Cid have led specialists to conclude that the poem was composed in writing, while the expressive features identified as characteristic of oral poetry are considered echoes of narratives that a learned author assimilated and reproduced as part of his written composition.1 Yet, this compositional model is not consistent with findings in related fields of study. Historians and linguists maintain that the European Middle Ages were essentially oral, in that writing was dictated and reading was done “viva voce”.2 In fact, the most distinguishing characteristic of this period may well be its unique mix of orality and writing, a circumstance memorably encapsulated in 1 Thomas Montgomery brings to our attention an archaic formal language preserved in the Cid that points to a “habit of oral composition latent in the poem’s background” (Montgomery, Medieval Spanish Epic, p. 111). However, “tradition-based epic texts such as the Poema del Cid stand at the juncture of orality – language heard – and literacy – language seen and accordingly preserved”, and Montgomery sees the possible influence of writing in the bold measures the poet has taken “to bend his story to convey messages that are of his time rather than inherited with the tradition”, but does not attempt to answer “whether the Cid has undergone such [writing influenced] revisions with the aid of the tool of writing” (p. 150). Alan Deyermond assumes a long period of oral composition for the Spanish epic, and the probable memorization of much of the Cid in its extant form (Deyermond, La literatura perdida, p. 52). John S. Miletich distinguishes “hemistichs in which a similar idea recurs from those in which there is no such recurrence” (Miletich, “Repetition and Aesthetic Function”, p. 189), as a tool for determining the degree of oral or literate composition of a text, which leads him to conclude that “[…] the Poema de mio Cid is a text composed in writing in which oral tradition has to some extent played a part, and that it was destined for oral diffusion” (p. 194). Irene Zaderenko postulates that the entire poem was composed in writing, although some sources may have been oral (Zaderenko, Problemas de autoría, pp. 88, 126, 153, 170, 188, 191-92). 2 Fleischmann, Tense and Narrativity, p. 20. © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004363755_010 248 Bailey Zumthor’s notion of “mixed orality where the influence of the written remains external to it, as well as partial or retarded”.3 In an effort to delve deeper and to clarify our understanding of the compositional process employed in medieval Spain, and in particular in the creation of the Cid, this essay will review pertinent findings in related fields of study, especially in medieval history and linguistics, and in that process provide a foundation for the subsequent analysis of the expressive characteristics of the Cid. Some of the material in this essay reflects previous efforts on my part to incorporate the findings of scholars from a variety of fields into Spanish epic studies, but the organization and emphasis are new, along with the promising venue in which it appears. In medieval Europe illitteratus was the term used to denote someone who knew no Latin, while litteratus meant that a person knew Latin, or was “learned”. A parallel antithesis is that of clericus and laicus, although none of these terms may be used in a strictly modern sense. A monk or cleric might well be illitteratus while a knight might in turn be referred to as clericus, in the sense of being learned.4 Reading and writing did not go hand in hand as they do today. Literary works were intended for reading aloud, whether in Latin or the vernacular, a practice referred to as oratio. Traditional monastic reading, lectio, was more a process of savoring the divine wisdom in a book than of finding new ideas or novel information. The ability to put pen to parchment was a specialized skill because it was difficult. This was the practice of scribes, who themselves may not have been litteratus. Writing in the modern sense of composition usually was referred to as dictitare (literally “to dictate”). The use of “writing” (scriptitare) is confined to making fair copy on parchment.5 Thomas Aquinas, one of the most celebrated learned men of the Middle Ages, redacted his texts with varying degrees of oral composition. According to the portrayal offered by Mary Carruthers, Thomas transcribed his early works in a littera inintelligibilis (an unintelligible script), writing ostensibly designed not to be read by anyone but the author himself. He would then call his scribes to take down the text in a legible hand while he read his own autograph aloud. When one scribe tired another would take his place. His later works, however, seem to have been dictated completely from memory. This does not mean that Thomas did not consult texts; he did, sometimes asking his scribes to make copies for his use. But the process of composition seems to have occurred once these texts were committed to memory. As one of his scribes attests, his dicta3 Zumthor, Oral Poetry, p. 25. 4 Clanchy, From Memory to Written Record, pp. 177-82. 5 Clanchy, From Memory to Written Record, pp. 216-18. Oral Expression in the Poema de mio Cid 249 tion would flow and it “ran so clearly that it was as if the master were reading aloud from a book under his eyes”.6 Other testimonies of medieval composition describe it as an oral process, although revisions followed oral delivery. The 12th-century preacher Bernard de Clairvaux assumed that his sermons would be easily recalled from one day to the next, but he had them recorded for good measure. His words “were written down [scripta] as they were spoken [dicta], that is, recorded by pen [excepta stylo]”. Bernard’s literary production also could occur in “three phases, composition (dictare), transcription (transcribi), and publication [edidi]”, or might include “oral presentation in small groups [conferre], writing out [scribere], revisions for correction [recogitare, corrigere], and the putting out of an anthology [legendum praebere]”.7 Eadmer of Canterbury, who wished to conceal from St. Anselm the redaction of his biography, was well along in the process of composing on wax tablets and transcribing onto parchment when Anselm asked what it was he [“I”] was composing and copying (quid dictitarem, quid scriptitarem).8 In the redaction of the miracles of St. Foy, Bernard of Angers took accounts from eyewitnesses he interviewed. He hastily scribbled notes that he took with him to Angers “not to add superfluous information, but to prune repetitions and to rework the whole into a concise, organized literary product”.9 As required by canonical procedure there were two texts, the verbal transcript of the testimonies and the later version (lectio) composed in Angers. As these examples demonstrate, in medieval Europe even texts composed in writing often involved some degree of oral dictation. In the monastic communities where texts were produced, new compositions were based on texts that were familiar to the entire community, and yet their composition did not require the physical presence of a source manuscript. Medievalists have focused a lot of attention on the processes involved in the memorization and subsequent retrieval of texts. Reading a text in order to understand its meaning, the modern day notion of studying, in the medieval period is known as lectio, but to read and assimilate a text, making its meaning one’s own, is referred to as meditatio.10 One of the most frequent and longest-lived images for this process is ruminatio (chewing the cud), based on the movement of the mouth, murmur, that accompanies memorization of a text. Composition is 6 7 8 9 10 Carruthers, The Book of Memory, p. 6. Stock, The Implications of Literacy, p. 409. Clanchy, From Memory to Written Record, p. 218. Stock, The Implications of Literacy, p. 65. Carruthers, The Book of Memory, p. 162. 250 Bailey also spoken of as ruminatio, in the sense of regurgitation, or in that the readings are collected through meditatio and then recollected through ruminatio.11 In this imagery there is a dialogue between two minds made possible through the medium of the text. The teachings are read and understood (lectio), then assimilated by the reader through meditatio, continued rumination later forms the basis for their recollection and, when deemed fruitful, they later form the basis of a new composition. The techniques involved in producing a new composition constituted a craft that was learned through the imitation of a master’s methods and experience, a craft referred to recently as “monastic rhetoric”.12 It was designed to lead the most adept practitioners to vision, which is understood as “the activity of composing”, as it “results in the writing down of an entirely new composition”.13 As Carruthers outlines the practice, it begins with inventive memory work, the reading or recitation of a familiar text. This is followed by fear or dread, a necessary “compunction” that leads the practitioner into intense meditation or prayer, communion with the divine (a vision or visitation), and finally a return to the everyday world with new knowledge or confidence. Medieval Spanish literature provides some interesting examples of this rhetorical orthopraxis and its role in the creation of narratives. Among these are Berceo’s Poema de Santa Oria, a vernacular narrative poem on the life of the virgin recluse Oria (Saint Aurea); the description of the retrieval and conveyance of the remains of Saint Isidore from the Muslim city of Seville to León during the reign of Fernando I of Castile and León, known as the Translatio Sancti Isidori; an episode from the Liber de Miraculi Sancti Isidori, attributed to Lucas de Tuy, involving Saint Martin of León; and of course the Latin texts relating the deeds of Rodrigo Díaz, the Cid.14 These examples confirm that writing was the manner in which learned texts were conveyed, and yet even these involved varying degrees of oral composition. Epic narrative poems would also have been dictated orally as part of the process of placing them onto parchment, yet there was probably little concern on the part of the scribes to alter the stylized vernacular expression of the poets, since they would have had no training to help them with that task. Nevertheless, the very process of transferring the poem to parchment required the participation of clerics and scribes, and their presence surely served to expose it to some degree of learned tendencies. It seems reasonable to assume 11 12 13 14 Carruthers, The Book of Memory, pp. 165-68. Carruthers, The Craft of Thought, pp. 2-3. Carruthers, The Craft of Thought, p. 183. Bailey, The Poetics of Speech, pp. 26-46. Oral Expression in the Poema de mio Cid 251 that seeing the act of preserving the Cid on parchment as anything but a continuum involving speech and writing is inappropriate for the period.15 The modern understanding of the Spanish epic begins with the work of Ramón Menéndez Pidal who published extensively throughout the first half of the 20th century.16 The exceptional quality of his work is manifested by its continued relevance among scholars, and by the fact that many of the current assumptions about the Cid can be traced directly to him. For Menéndez Pidal epic poetry is inspired in the emotional and poetic narration of contemporary events.17 It is written poetry, composed in a style appropriate for oral performance before expectant audiences.18 The metrical style is kept simple as an 15 16 17 18 Sharp distinctions between oral and written modes of expression are also inappropriate for the modern period, and modern scholars have long questioned absolute distinctions between them. Ruth Finnegan, an anthropologist, provides evidence of a wide array of oral poetry, some of it composed orally but much of it memorized with or without the aid of written texts (Finnegan, Oral Poetry). For Menéndez Pidal’s work, see Luis Galván’s chapter in this volume. Menéndez Pidal, En torno al Poema de mio Cid, p. 189. Menéndez Pidal, En torno al Poema de mio Cid, pp. 200-02. There is no serious questioning of the genesis of the Spanish epic by Menéndez Pidal and therefore no clear statement on epic composition. He simply assumes that the poem is written and makes a number of indirect statements to that effect. In these statements he seems to be simply stating what for him is obvious. For instance, the proof that the story of the Moorish Princess Zaida is a written epic narrative lies in the many details proffered, these are “pormenores profusos que las tradiciones orales son incapaces de conservar”, such detail “tenía que conservarse en un relato escrito” (Menéndez Pidal, De primitiva lírica española, pp. 55-56). Menéndez Pidal refers to the written epic in the context of its recitation by juglares, specifying that we cannot speak of minstrels, because we don’t know the names of any of them, we must speak of “obras de carácter juglaresco”: “A los autores de éstas llamaremos juglares, sin tener seguridad de que lo fuesen, es decir, sin saber si hacían de la recitación de los poemas un oficio o modo de vivir, o si eran hombres de otra posición social, que escribían para abastecer la recitación pública de los que a esta profesión se dedicaban” (Poesía juglaresca, p. 190 [1924, p. 313]). In a clarification of what he means by juglares, Menéndez Pidal states “al hablar de ‘juglares’ en el siglo XII, no quiero decir sino ‘poetas que escriben para legos’, pero no ‘poetas indoctos’, desconocedores de la literatura latina”. Also, “El juglar del Cid (entiéndase juglar docto y altísimo poeta) escribe para gentes que saben […]” (Poesía juglaresca, p. 80, p. 92). In his later work, Menéndez Pidal continues to assume a written text for the Cid, and even goes so far as to distinguish two distinct styles and emphases in the first and second halves of the poem. Here again, the fact that the poem is written is not emphasized, the emphasis is on clarifying its date of composition: “La fecha en que escribió este poeta de Gormaz debió ser a raíz de la muerte del héroe”, and again: “Cuando el poeta de Gormaz escribe […]” (En torno al Poema de mio Cid, p. 146). Finally, while speaking of the poem’s swift success, and in reference to the two poets he 252 Bailey aid to memorization of the poem and to facilitate its reconstruction when memory fails during performance.19 In the ballad tradition that he understood as emerging nearly simultaneously with the disappearance of the epic, Menéndez Pidal distinguished two forms of transmission, one oral and the other written, although he saw both as originating in writing. In his view, the folk ballads (romances tradicionales) were originally based on episodes from the medieval epic but were transformed aesthetically as they passed orally from one generation to another among the uncultured populace “de gente inculta”.20 The second tradition was of ballads written by professional poets who followed in the tradition of those who had once dedicated themselves to composing the longer epic narratives. He termed these written ballads romances juglarescos (minstrel ballads, or ballads of the professional poets), in order to distinguish them from the romances tradicionales. By the end of the 15th century, ballads were wildly popular among all social classes,21 but in neither of the two ballad traditions he outlined did Menéndez Pidal imagine a process of oral composition taking place. It may be worth noting that Menéndez Pidal did not know the work of Milman Parry, probably because Parry’s work was directed to Homeric scholars. Parry had envisioned comparing his initial findings from Homeric poetry and his subsequent observations of South-Slavic poetry with the medieval European epics,22 but his untimely death prevented him from completing this project. Both Parry and Menéndez Pidal recognized the use of formulas as an element of the poetics of epic expression, although Menéndez Pidal understood them as either expressions common to all (tópicos vulgares), or as unique expressions attributable to a particular poet (tópicos literarios), and not in relation to epic meter, syntax or, therefore, as an indicator of oral composition.23 Parry’s first two publications, theses that he published in 1928 as part of his doctoral program at the University of Paris, focused on the abundant nounepithet formulas in Homer. He explained them as part of a poetic grammar related to the structure of the verse, traditional and independent of a poet’s 19 20 21 22 23 believed composed what he had come to understand as two parts of the work, he states that “escribían fuera de la Vieja Castilla” (En torno al Poema de mio Cid, p. 218). Menéndez Pidal, En torno al Poema de mio Cid, p. 203. Menéndez Pidal, Poesía juglaresca y juglares [1924], p. 416. Menéndez Pidal, Poesía juglaresca y juglares [1924], p. 420. Adam Parry, The Making of Homeric Verse, p. 377, pp. 392-93; Lord, “Homer, Parry, and Huso”, p. 37. Menéndez Pidal, En torno al Poema de mio Cid, pp. 97-105, pp. 201-02. Oral Expression in the Poema de mio Cid 253 free will.24 His conclusion, stated briefly at the outset of his thesis, was that “the use of the fixed epithet […] is entirely dependent on its convenience in versification”,25 thus emphasizing the irrelevance of a modern aesthetic appreciation for the fixed epithet as something associated with the poet’s artistry. But Parry soon came to view what he termed the Homeric style, meaning the peculiar abundance of ready-made formulaic expressions developed over generations of poets, as a response to the demands of a metrically complex verse form composed orally in performance. By the time he had returned to the United States and published his first article in English,26 Parry had confirmed that what he had initially understood as traditionality, the abundance of expressions that were used repeatedly to comply with a specific metrical requirement, was in reality a consequence or function of the constraints on the poet who composed orally before an expectant audience.27 Parry’s work had found no echo in the study of Spanish epic poetry until Albert B. Lord published The Singer of Tales in 1960, some twenty-five years after Parry’s untimely death. Lord had served Parry as a graduate assistant, accompanying him in his fieldwork recording the oral epics of the Yugoslav guslari. Lord eventually completed the program of fieldwork Parry had laid out and published their findings with the more comparative focus that Parry had suggested. Lord had crossed over into the medievalist camp by including a short chapter entitled “Some Notes on Medieval Epic” in which he applied the findings from his study of the Homeric and Yugoslav poetry to elucidate the oral characteristics of the Chanson de Roland, Beowulf, and a medieval Greek metrical narrative known as the Digenis Akritas. Lord also identified the frequent use of formulas, absence of enjambment, and composition by theme as indicators of oral composition,28 and medievalists soon took note. In Spanish epic studies the first responses to Lord’s work were enthusiastic, coming from British scholars who found in Lord’s work an avenue for questioning some of Menéndez Pidal’s prevailing assumptions about the Cid, including 24 25 26 27 28 Parry, The Making of Homeric Verse, esp. pp. 21-23, pp. 189-90. Adam Parry, the son of Milman Parry, collected, edited, translated into English when necessary, and published all of his father’s writings, including the two theses published in fulfillment of the requirements of his doctoral program at the University of Paris in 1928. All citations of Milman Parry’s work are from Adam Parry, The Making of Homeric Verse. Parry, The Making of Homeric Verse, esp. p. 22. Milman Parry, “Studies in the Epic Technique”. Parry, The Making of Homeric Verse, esp. pp. 269-70 and pp. 322-24). Lord, The Singer of Tales, pp. 130-31. 254 Bailey studies by L.P. Harvey29 and Alan Deyermond.30 Later scholars continued to explore the applicability of Lord’s findings to the Cid, displaying a wide variety of approaches and providing invaluable insights into the expression and cultural milieu of the Cid. Nonetheless, the prevailing consensus today is that the Yugoslav model of oral composition is irrelevant to the compositional process of the Spanish epic. The artistry of the Spanish poem is considered superior to the Yugoslav narratives produced through composition by stock formulas and themes,31 even though Miletich, working with the original-language text, found similarly complex patterning in the orally composed Boanovic Strahinja, leading him to conclude that it is not safe to argue for written composition of a particular work on the basis of a highly organized aesthetic structure.32 Miletich’s findings reveal a critical flaw in the argument for written composition of the Cid based on its artistic superiority over the South Slavic poems recorded by Parry and Lord, made explicit by John Miles Foley in relation to the same critical stance adopted by scholars of the Homeric poems: “Virtually all scholars who have rendered this vague but summary judgment have consulted the South Slavic works in translation, with little or no experience in the originallanguage text, never mind of the performances from which those texts derive”.33 In Foley’s estimation, this “fundamental shortcoming” disqualifies judgments on the quality of the South Slavic poems, which at best are references to the “clarity or literary appeal of the English rendering”.34 The relatively low frequency of formulas in the Spanish epic is another reason used by scholars to reject the oral compositional model. Yet, the virtual absence of metrical requirements in Spanish epic verse makes the use of formulas less economical than in the Yugoslav and Homeric epics studied by Parry and Lord, in which the strict metrical requirements of the verse necessitated the creation of stock formulas and themes in order to facilitate rapid composition before an expectant audience. From this perspective, the lower 29 Harvey, “The Metrical Irregularity”. 30 Deyermond, “The Singer of Tales”. 31 Deyermond, “Structural and Stylistic Patterns”, pp. 70-71; Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid (ed. 1993), pp. 13-14. 32 Miletich, “Repetition and Aesthetic Function”, p. 192. 33 Foley, Homer’s Traditional Art, p. 41. 34 Foley, Homer’s Traditional Art, p. 41. The criticism continues, as Foley points out the “tautology entailed in prescribing ‘quality’ [in Deyermond’s formulation “wealth of patterns”] as equivalent to what one perceives as the (literary) merit of Homeric poems. Such a parochial concept simply leaves no room for other kinds of excellence, just as it unnaturally restricts the possible range of Homer’s own excellence” (Foley, Homer’s Traditional Art, p. 41). Oral Expression in the Poema de mio Cid 255 frequency of formulas in the Spanish epic does not negate its possible oral composition, it simply means that formulas were not as necessary to its oral composition as in the Yugoslav and Homeric epics. We know that not all oral traditions show the universal features of Oral Theory,35 the Parry-Lord model of composition in performance utilizing a storehouse of interchangeable fixed expressions, and so we should not discount oral composition as a possibility in the Spanish epic simply because it does not reflect one or another of the expressive features of the South Slavic poems. Menéndez Pidal was right on this score, Homer and the guslari do represent two starkly distinct worlds,36 but from that fact it does not follow that their compositions cannot both have been orally composed. As we pursue our inquiry into the compositional process of the Spanish epic, we need to acknowledge that oral traditions are exceedingly heterogeneous, and when we focus on a single tradition, some of its features will be unique to it, while others will be shared.37 It is clear enough from a reading of the Cid that knights were the power brokers of society. They lived in a predominantly oral world, even those among them who were considered experts on legal matters, los sabidores (v. 3005) or coñoscedores (v. 3137), are depicted practicing their craft orally. They had to be adept at expressing themselves in speech in order to rule over their fellow men, and there can be no doubt that status is reflected in speech and that good speech coupled with high status sustain power and authority. There are specific indicators of the importance given to good speech in the poem, such as when the Cid congratulates Minaya on speaking well in counsel over the next course of action to take in the defense of Alcocer: “A mi guisa fablastes, / ondrásteisvos, Minaya, ca avérvoslo iedes de far” (vv. 677b-78). The first time the Cid speaks in the poem he does so “bien e tan mesurado” (v. 7). Likewise, when Asur González, the older brother of the malicious Infantes de Carrión, enters the king’s court in Toledo, it is not only his drunken appearance that exemplifies the decadence of his family, but his speech as well: “Asur Gonçález entrava por el palaçio, / manto armiño e un brial rastrando, / vermejo viene, ca era almorçado, / en lo que fabló avié poco recabdo” (vv. 3373-76). Additional 35 36 37 Foley, Homer’s Traditional Art, p. 45. Menéndez Pidal, “Los cantores yugoeslavos y los occidentales” pp. 200-01. Even within the South Slavic tradition of orally composed epic poetry, performance modes varied. Parry and Lord’s fieldwork led them to note briefly the existence of oral poets who had memorized written narratives and presented them orally (Lord, The Singer of Tales, p. 109). Interestingly, these are not the best poets, but they are practitioners. They also offer the example of a father and son, both literate, who learn and sing their songs orally (pp. 109-12). 256 Bailey and more nuanced indicators of the esteem attached to good speaking in the Cid are the subtle hierarchies of speech employed in the hortatory modes.38 We know that in the monasteries and in the royal courts writing was taking place. The poem is available to us today because it was put into writing, probably at the Castilian monastery of San Pedro de Cardeña.39 There are two well-known references to writing in the poem: “Antes de la noche, en Burgos d’él entró su carta” (v. 23); “Meterlos he en escripto e todos sean contados” (v. 1259), although overall the poem is clearly attuned to a speech-centered world. In order to better understand the oral basis of the expression of the poem, we will turn our attention to a field of linguistics that has made good use of the findings of cognitive psychology and discourse analysis to distinguish between oral and written expression. The work of Wallace Chafe, in particular, has proven to be especially pertinent in this regard and has shed light on the cognitive basis for the highly stylized expression of Homeric discourse,40 and has provided insights into the oral foundation of Spanish epic expression.41 Chafe and his collaborators are best known for a study they conducted that was designed to probe the way people talk about things they have experienced and later recall. They first produced a short film, which they subsequently showed to different groups of people. They then conducted individual interviews in which the subjects were asked to narrate through recall the action in the film. The recording and transcription of those interviews, in which everyone produced a “spontaneous and reasonable description of what the film contained”,42 constitute the data on which their subsequent studies are based. Chafe used the data to probe the link between consciousness and the expressive characteristics of the spontaneous speech of his subjects as they narrated the action of the film. Chafe found that among the most salient characteristics of this spontaneous speech is its production in relatively brief spurts. He initially refers to these spurts of speech as “idea units”, a term already in use that highlights their resemblance to single clauses.43 In his subsequent work Chafe prefers to call them “intonation units”, a reflection of the importance he attributes to their single intonation contour.44 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 Montgomery, Medieval Spanish Epic, pp. 97-112. Bailey, “Oral Composition”, p. 266; Zaderenko, “Per Abbat en Cardeña” and “Per Abbat en Cardeña. Addenda”; Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid (ed. 2011), pp. 496-508. Bakker, Poetry in Speech, pp. 35-53. Bailey, “Oral Composition”. Chafe, The Pear Stories, p. xv. Chafe, The Pear Stories, p. 13. Chafe and Danielwicz, Properties of Spoken and Written Language, p. 10. Oral Expression in the Poema de mio Cid 257 In cognitive terms, these units “express what is in the speaker’s short-term memory or ‘focus of consciousness,’ at the time [they are] produced”.45 The prototypical intonation unit has the following properties: 1) it is spoken with a single, coherent intonation contour, 2) it is followed by a pause, and 3) it is likely to be a single clause. Chafe studies some properties of intonation units, and finds that “a speaker does not, or cannot, focus on more information than can be expressed in about six words”, while their syntax “must be kept simple”.46 He concludes that intonation units are the natural unit of speech while sentences have become the major unit of writing. This distinction comes about “presumably because writers have the leisure to perfect complex and coherent sentence structures which speakers are moving too fast to produce”.47 Egbert Bakker has associated the cognitive concept of the intonation unit with the highly stylized and rhythmically sophisticated Homeric verse. He finds that, just as in ordinary speech, the basic metrical unit of Homeric verse is not the sentence but the intonation unit. The intonational and prosodic properties of this unit of speech are stylized into metrical properties, their cognitively determined length making them the ideal basis for formulas as the basic ingredients of epic discourse. The metrical requirements of Homeric verse would not exclude it from being considered a form of speech. In Bakker’s terminology it is “special speech”.48 In the Spanish epic, where there are essentially no metrical properties, the cognitive relation between narrative discourse and Chafe’s concept of the intonation unit should be even more evident than in Homeric poetry. Initially, the similarities between Chafe’s intonation units and epic verse may not be immediately apparent to readers of modern editions of the Cid. Following the lead of the manuscript text, modern editors represent the poem as a series of verses whose length is determined by their end-line assonance. This rhyme pattern is based on the repetition of the same stressed or tonic vowel in the final word of each verse, as in lines 1077-81, cited in context below (andar, atrás, repintrá, ha, alguandre). When the stress falls on the penultimate vowel, as in the first five lines of the poem (llorando, catando, cañados, mantos, mudados), the final unstressed vowels of the series (in this case o) almost always match as well.49 Editors also divide each verse into two halflines or hemistichs, by inserting additional spaces between what they judge to 45 46 47 48 49 Chafe and Danielwicz, Properties of Spoken and Written Language, p. 10. Chafe and Danielwicz, Properties of Spoken and Written Language, p. 10. Chafe and Danielwicz, Properties of Spoken and Written Language, p. 18. Bakker, “How Oral?”, pp. 37-39. Montaner, “Revisión textual”, pp. 165-67. 258 Bailey be two clauses. This action is based on the assumption that the narrator would pause after each clause, even though in the manuscript there is no indication of any such pause. The number of syllables in Spanish epic verse is not regular, as in alexandrine verse, nor are the verses measured in feet, as in Homeric verse. There is essentially no uniform length to the verses, although it has been observed that no hemistich can contain more than eleven syllables, because this would require an additional caesura, the term used to designate the pause between half lines or hemistichs.50 Modern editors also take the liberty of identifying sequences of verses with the same assonance, referred to as a laisse (French) or tirada (Spanish), and assigning them a number. In the Spanish epic these tiradas vary greatly in length, from a minimum of two verses to over two hundred. Changes in assonance are attributed to transitions in the narration, with a sub-category of non-starters (versos sueltos) brought about by something called “deictic dissonance”.51 Even though the lines of the poem are counted in verses, the hemistich is considered the basic component of epic verse.52 It corresponds closely to Chafe’s intonation unit, which he considers the basic unit of speech, normally consisting of four to six words each, followed by a pause, and likely to be a single clause.53 Let’s look at a specific passage from the Cid for confirmation of this similarity, presented here as in the manuscript text: Aguijava el conde e pensava de andar, tornando va la cabeça e catándos’ atrás, miedo iva aviendo que Mio Çid se repintrá, lo que non ferié el caboso por cuanto en el mundo ha, una deslealtança ca non la fizo alguandre. (1077-81)54 As noted above, modern editors separate what they assume are two clauses in each line with a space that is meant to represent a natural pause (reminiscent of Chafe’s intonation units), as opposed to a metrical pause, or caesura, as follows, Aguijava el conde e pensava de andar, tornando va la cabeça e catándos’ atrás, 50 51 52 53 54 Montaner, “Revisión textual”, p. 157. Bayo, “Poetic Discourse Patterning”, pp. 86-87. Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid (ed. 1993), p. 37. Chafe and Danielwicz, Properties of Spoken and Written Language, p. 10. The manuscript transcription is taken from my Web site (miocid.wlu.edu). Oral Expression in the Poema de mio Cid 259 miedo iva aviendo que Mio Çid se repintrá, lo que non ferié el caboso por cuanto en el mundo ha, una deslealtança, ca non la fizo alguandre.55 In cognitive terms, these hemistichs “express what is in the speaker’s shortterm memory or ‘focus of consciousness,’ at the time [they are] produced”.56 The poem progresses through the use of what has come to be known as the string-along or additive style, also known grammatically as parataxis, which typically produces repetitions as the narrator expands on statements he has just made. This is common in speech because in speaking there is little possibility of synthesis, just the continuous production of brief spurts of speech focused on conveying single acts and thoughts that in time add up to a scene, an episode, and eventually a story. In this process, when a clarification needs to be made, the speaker must return to his original thought by repeating it, and then offer his clarification or expansion. Following Chafe’s transcriptions of spontaneous speech,57 we can also represent these hemistichs (intonation units) in the following way, 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 Aguijava el conde e pensava de andar, tornando va la cabeça e catándos’ atrás, miedo iva aviendo que Mio Çid se repintrá, lo que non ferié el caboso por cuanto en el mundo ha, una deslealtança, ca non la fizo alguandre. In this representation of the lines we can better appreciate the relationship between Chafe’s concept of “brief spurts of speech” and the clausal structure, seeing them both as formed by the cognitive limitations of the oral narrative process. Unable to focus on more than one thought or image at a time, the narrator must first describe the count’s physical actions (vv. 1-4), then proceed to inform us of what the count was thinking while he was acting in that fashion (vv. 5-6). The narrator then changes his plane of thought from what the count 55 56 57 Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid (ed. 1993), p. 165. Chafe and Danielwicz, Properties of Spoken and Written Language, p. 10. Chafe, “How Consciousness Shapes Language”, pp. 40-41. 260 Bailey is thinking to his own response to it. In doing so he offers a characterization of the Cid, and of the count, by telling us that the Cid (unlike the count) would never do such a thing (v. 7), and qualifies that affirmation (v. 8). The narrator then must restate what he is talking about (“una deslealtança”, v. 9), presumably because the third-person neuter pronoun (“lo que non ferié el caboso”, v. 7) is not especially clear, but also as an aid to shifting his thoughts from the hypothetical realm (“non ferié”) to the real (“ca non la fizo alguandre”), and to finally affirm the Cid’s moral character through his actions (v. 10). Modern readers of the poem know that this final progression is needed because deeds must confirm words, and in this particular instance, the Cid can’t perform a disloyal act, he can only not have done it, ever. If this passage were written and then memorized for oral performance, as some scholars of the Spanish epic believe, there would be a synthesis of expression equivalent to written discourse. This is not the case, and instead of synthesis, the poet first tells us of the count’s actions and then narrates separately the thinking behind those actions. The poet first states that the Cid would never do that (“lo que” is the equivalent of a relative pronoun), referring back to the count’s fear that the Cid might change his mind (“que Mio Çid se repintrá”), before specifying what he meant (“una deslealtança”), and then in a separate statement affirming that he never did it, maybe as a kind of concrete proof of his previous assertion that he would never do it. As we listen to the poem, and generally as we read it as well, there is the sense that the language flows smoothly. But when we examine it closely we see that the language comes in short spurts, giving it an intermittent quality, and that the poet is simultaneously narrating and clarifying, moving back and forth from thought to action as the narrative progresses. This expressive feature might be attributed to the binary structure of two hemistichs per verse, with assonance lending a finality to each verse, especially the closely related reiterations of actions that at first blush seem to serve more to complete the verse than to add anything new (“Aguijava el conde e pensava de andar, / tornando va la cabeça e catándos’ atrás”). But actions and thoughts are intimately related in the poem, and the actions and thoughts of the count reflect on the Cid, whose actions (and the thoughts of the poet about the Cid’s actions) also reflect on the count. The progression is slow but deliberate, the narrative must move forward for the audience, but at the same time the narrator is limited in what he can say in each one of his brief spurts of speech. Chafe found something similar in his data, “very few if any cases in which there are two or more separately activated new ideas within the same intonation unit”, which to him suggests the hypothesis that “an intonation unit can express no more than one new idea”, and that thought “proceeds in terms of one such Oral Expression in the Poema de mio Cid 261 activation at a time, and each activation applies to a single referent, event, or state, but not to more than one”.58 Equally meaningful for our understanding of oral poetry is Chafe’s sense that this limitation on what the speaker can say may also be assumed for the listener, that neither one can “handle more than one idea at a time”.59 Another unique feature of epic verse is its string-along style, or parataxis. This has long been considered a marker of orally composed poetry,60 and linguists have affirmed that paratactic syntax is indeed characteristic of spoken discourse, and that spontaneous or novel speech is typically delivered “one clause at a time”.61 Furthermore, the one-clause-at-a-time processing of spontaneous or novel discourse is not a style at all, but a constraint on speakers in which “the largest unit of novel discourse that can be fully encoded in one encoding operation is a single clause of eight to ten words”.62 When a speaker begins to narrate a stretch of novel discourse over several clauses, only the first few words are known. By generating one clause at a time, as opposed to integrating or subordinating clauses, a speaker “can maintain grammaticality and semantic continuity because his clauses can be planned more or less independently, and each major semantic unit, being only a single clause, can be encoded and uttered without internal breaks”.63 In addition to understanding hemistichs as a cognitively constrained speech unit, the use of assonance in oral poetry, while aesthetically pleasing to us today, actually performs a constraining function. David C. Rubin, a cognitive psychologist whose work focuses on memory, has found that rhyme is a constraint used in oral composition as an aid to memorization. Rubin cites a number of studies that show how end-rhyme facilitates recall, and is especially helpful in recalling the order of verses. In the experiments he cites, rhyme cues work best when they are similar but not identical to the ones used at learning.64 Assonance, a fairly flexible form of rhyme, more flexible than perfect rhyme, may be especially suited to the needs of the poet of the Spanish epic, who may not be recalling verses verbatim, but is most likely re-composing a narrative he has heard or has sung before. The small number of fixed formulas and the relative flexibility of assonance in the Spanish epic suggest a high degree of 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 Chafe, Discourse, Consciousness, and Time, p. 109. Chafe, Discourse, Consciousness, and Time, p. 109. Duggan, “The Interface between Oral and Written”, p. 62. Chafe, The Pear Stories, p. 30. Pawley and Syder, “Two Puzzles for Linguistic Theory”, p. 202. Pawley and Syder, “Two Puzzles for Linguistic Theory”, p. 203. Rubin, Memory in Oral Traditions, pp. 83-84. 262 Bailey variability that is unlike the fixed phrases of the Homeric and Yugoslav poems. Later learned poetry in Spain increasingly exhibits the more demanding syllabic rhyme (matching tonic vowels and subsequent syllables) that we may think of as even more aesthetically pleasing. Novel rhyme, considered by moderns to signify good poetry, is probably only an option in written verse, since Rubin has found that in oral verse “expected rhymes are more likely to be reproduced” than novel rhymes.65 In the Cid the adjoining of hemistichs is carried out sequentially, which is a reflection in speech of the cognitive devices deployed in the processing of information. The narrator employs the simple paratactic syntax preferred by spontaneous speakers, with clause-final pauses evidenced throughout. Modern editors of the poem have traditionally identified the hemistichs as a kind of unit in the text by separating the same-verse hemistichs with a space or a space and a comma, and by placing at the end of each verse a comma or a period. These decisions are based on the syntax of the written poem, granting to each hemistich the status of a clause or phrase of one sort or another. Similarly, in the Pear Film narratives recorded by Chafe the brief intonation units and the somewhat larger units evidence distinctive intonation contours, and are transcribed as ending in commas and periods respectively. Chafe notes that even in unfamiliar languages a listener can detect every so often a falling intonation contour that we naturally associate with the end of a sentence. The change in intonation suggests that the speaker has determined that some kind of closure or completeness has been achieved. Sentence-final intonation generally coincides with what a grammarian would consider syntactic closure, essentially the completion of a sentence.66 On average, sentence-final (intonational) closure occurs after every three idea units.67 Exceptions do occur, such as narrating exclusively with single idea units and giving them sentence-final closure, and the production of fairly long narratives with only one or two sentence-final closures. Although we can readily agree that the poet is narrating in hemistichs composed of one new idea at a time, it must be observed that these brief units also comprise much longer narrative segments. This suggests that we seem to be able to remember stories as wholes, while we focus on small pieces of these memories in recalling them. The entire memory can be narrated as a whole, or it can be produced in a series of brief intonation units.68 Generally, however, 65 66 67 68 Rubin, Memory in Oral Traditions, p. 85. Chafe, The Pear Stories, p. 20. Chafe, The Pear Stories, p. 26. Chafe, The Pear Stories, p. 26. Oral Expression in the Poema de mio Cid 263 in the narration of a story there are sequences of focuses of consciousness of an intermediate length that receive sentence-final intonation to signal their closure. It seems that as an organism we can best express a single focus of consciousness at a time, yet there is a need within us for more information than can be supplied by the limited capacity of a single focus of consciousness. When this need arises the information is scanned by a series of focuses of consciousness in order to comprehend and act upon it. The same process occurs when the information is relayed, a speaker deploys the focuses of consciousness sequentially until communication of the whole is complete. Chafe refers to the deployment of such a sequence of focuses of consciousness as a “center of interest”, and the data from the Pear Film stories indicate that these sequences “convey a single mental image about which several things are simultaneously true”.69 When the speaker determines that adequate communication of an image has been achieved, sentence-final intonation is employed. Chafe assumes that the information processing capabilities of the human organism lag behind its needs, which is why speakers do not express a series of centers of interest without some difficulty, which Chafe calls “perturbations”. He divides these perturbations into five categories: 1) abandonment, 2) postponement, 3) pursuit of a side interest, with subsequent return to the main track, 4) insertion of a center of interest on a different level of interest, and 5) supplementation of a center of interest after preliminary closure has been reached.70 As speakers switch from one center of interest to another these perturbations are generally accompanied by corrections, pauses, repetitions, false starts, backtracking, and other manifestations of uncertainty in their speech. The episodes that comprise the Cid certainly seem to be narrated sequentially,71 but when analyzed in the light of Chafe’s findings on centers of interest, we find the same indicators of uncertainty identified by Chafe. The “niña de nuef años” episode may be the best-known passage in the Cid (vv. 15-34), and to my knowledge no readers of the poem have noted any disruptions in its narration. However, in point of fact, it actually alternates between what might be called background and foreground narration. It begins with an initial “center of interest”, or foreground action, the entrance of the Cid into Burgos and his reception by the residents, who are grieving over the Cid’s predicament (vv. 15-20). From this initial center of interest, the narrator then switches to a “side interest”, or background action (vv. 21-28). Here the narrator explains the 69 70 71 Chafe, The Pear Stories, p. 27. Chafe, The Pear Stories, p. 33. About the poem’s narrative techniques, see Luongo’s chapter in this volume. 264 Bailey despair of the citizens of Burgos, already described as grieving, as a consequence of the prohibition by the king against aiding the Cid. The narration of the main action of the passage resumes (vv. 29-32), but the narrator again interrupts the flow of action to pursue another side interest (vv. 33-34), this time to explain why the door to the Cid’s customary lodging was not opened. The paratactic structure of the poem gives little sense of the scanning of centers of interest by the narrator. This may be a consequence of presenting the protagonist in action and the circumstances in which he acts without the use of subordinating conjunctions. The narrator presents first the foreground action, followed by some background information as explanation, returns to the main action, and so forth. This narrative process produces something akin to the third of Chafe’s five categories of perturbations: pursuit of a side interest with subsequent return to the main track. What Chafe found in his samples of spontaneous speech is that when the narrator returns to the main image, it is “reverbalized” before proceeding with the narration.72 This occurs in this passage as well, where lines 18-20 are reverbalized in lines 29-30, as the narrator’s focus returns to the initial center of interest after explaining the reasons why the people of Burgos turned their backs on the Cid (vv. 21-28). Beginning at line 35 the narrator returns to the original center of interest and presents the remainder of the Cid’s encounter with the people of Burgos (vv. 35-51). The girl who appears in the episode is a poetic device through whom the people of Burgos finally speak to the Cid (vv. 40-49). In rapid succession she conveys their admiration for him (v. 41), the king’s prohibition (vv. 42-43), their current dilemma (vv. 44-46), a subtle plea for mercy (v. 47), and an expression of their hope for his future success (v. 48). Once she has greeted him (v. 41), the statements are narrated in a sequence of past, present, and future. Paratactic verse seems particularly well suited to the narration of events in this fashion. The focus is intense and the narration moves forward effectively. Although the girl does recapitulate lines 23-28 (vv. 42-46), here the information is communicated directly to the Cid, who can then understand why his customary lodgings are closed to him. Her speech has a pleasing aesthetic effect and exemplifies the skilled speaking that characterizes the verbal exchanges in the poem.73 In this passage the poet seems to be concentrating his cognitive energies on producing a speech that is memorable and powerfully persuasive, nothing at all like the speech of a nine-year-old child. The principle of performance-enhanced speech may recall a similar concept in classical rhetorical prose, especially in the way it is subservient to 72 73 Chafe, The Pear Stories, pp. 34-35. Montgomery, Medieval Spanish Epic, pp. 98-100. Oral Expression in the Poema de mio Cid 265 natural constraints. In the case of oral delivery, the natural constraint is the need for the speaker to pause for breath. Breath pauses during performance result in short units of expression, identified and labeled by Cicero and Quintilian as essentially smaller parts of a whole. These are the “limbs” of a “body”, connected by “joints”, which we recognize as the clauses of a sentence or period joined by conjunctions. The clause can be rhythmically complete but semantically meaningless, membrum, or both semantically and rhythmically incomplete incisum or articulus.74 Both classical rhetorical prose and epic verse are understood as constrained by nature in a fundamental way. In recognition of these constraints, the classical rhetors adapt their public speeches so as to create a pleasant and memorable experience for orator and audience alike. This experience is enhanced by the manipulation of breath units in a way that blends their syntax and rhythm of delivery, for audiences respond best to speech governed by nature. But the units of Latin rhetorical discourse (membra) are ultimately subservient to syntactic periodicity, in that “they either create syntactic expectations or give ‘what is due’ in fulfilling them”.75 Epic discourse looks ahead as well, but not to the completion of a sentence or grammatical construct. Instead it projects toward the completion of the verse, to the simple assonance that marks the end of one verse and the beginning of another. As the passage from the Cid confirms, a speaker does not process information quickly enough to be able to subordinate different centers of interest. Consequently, these are adjoined sequentially, as in parataxis, or in some cases coordinated with conjunctions, mostly “and”, less often “then”, “but” or “so”. Speakers seldom use subordination because it can easily lead to confusion.76 As writers, we are familiar with the struggle to subordinate ideas and images into coherent prose. But this process of integration was not evidenced in the speech of Chafe’s subjects in the late seventies, and neither is it found in the Cid. The distinction between the use of parataxis as a marker of speech and of subordination as a marker of written discourse can be exemplified in the prose rendition of the Cid passage in Alfonso X’s Estoria de España, also from the thirteenth century (c.1289). Subordinating conjunctions have been highlighted. Et pues que entró en Burgos fuesse pora la posada do solié posar; mas non le quisieron y acoger; ca el rey lo enuiara defender quel non acogiessen en 74 75 76 Bakker, Poetry in Speech, pp. 138-46. Bakker, Poetry in Speech, p. 145. Chafe, The Pear Stories, p. 30. 266 Bailey ninguna posada en toda la uilla, nin le diessen uianda ninguna. Quando aquello uio el Çid, saliosse de la uilla et fue posar en la glera.77 Most striking is the absence from this passage of the moving encounter with the nine-year-old girl. Her breaking of the enforced silence implies solidarity between the Cid and the people of Burgos that the Alfonsine chroniclers could not abide.78 With her removal, the tension disappears from the passage altogether. The use of subordinating conjunctions integrates the various centers of interest into a briefer yet syntactically more complex single focus. The process of transforming oral verse into prose produced the equivalent of a modern-day paragraph, with none of the repetition of the poem. Along with the repetitions, the different points of view are lost, resulting in the single point of view of the omniscient chronicler. The punctuation, determined by its modern editor Menéndez Pidal, now seems essential to it and underscores its literate essence.79 The parallels between the cognitive characteristics of the spontaneous speech of Chafe’s subjects and the expression of the Cid are striking. Chafe’s analysis of recorded speech allowed him to identify the cognitive processes involved in the narration of the events portrayed in the Pear Film, and of other events brought up in casual conversation as stories worth telling. His examples are all from late 20th-century America. The Cid is a vernacular epic narrative put to parchment in the kingdom of Castile in 1207, yet it exhibits cognitive processes and organization of discourse topics similar to those of Chafe’s subjects. The Spanish epic follows conventions specific to a medieval narrative genre and a culture very distant from 20th-century America, which makes the parallels in their expression even more striking. These parallels most likely stem from the fact that they are all being produced before an audience, with decisions about expression, emphasis, and effectiveness being made in real time. In sum, the field of Spanish epic studies can learn a great deal from the findings of scholars in related fields, such as Homeric Studies, medieval history, and linguistics. The debate that began with the publication of Albert Lord’s The Singer of Tales in 1960 encouraged an informed reassessment of the 77 78 79 Alfonso X, Estoria de España; I quote Menéndez Pidal’s edition, Primera crónica general, p. 523 (chap. 851, 2nd column, lines 27-34). These observations regarding the editing of the poem by the Alfonsine chroniclers reflect the work of Nancy Joe Dyer and specific findings of Brian Powell, Epic and Chronicle, pp. 87, 91, 97-98). Fleischmann, Tense and Narrativity, pp. 186-88. Oral Expression in the Poema de mio Cid 267 expression and mode of composition of the Cid, the iconic text of medieval Spanish literature, but was truncated by an unwillingness to look beyond this seminal work for further insights. Many of the scholars who began their careers through engagement in the vibrant dialog engendered by the Parry-Lord findings are no longer with us, yet their findings should serve as a reminder of the rich exchange of ideas that takes place when the work of specialists in related fields are incorporated into our research endeavors. In the present case, the work of linguists such as Wallace Chafe, prominent medieval historians, psychologists, Homeric scholars, scholars of the French chanson de geste and the Old English Beowulf have contributed to a deeper understanding of the link between the compositional process and the expression of the Cid, and to the realization that in reading the poem today we are tantalizingly close to the author and his audience in the very act of its creation. Works Cited Bailey, Matthew, “Oral Composition in the Medieval Spanish Epic”, Publications of the Modern Language Association 118.2 (2003), 254-69. Bailey, Matthew, The Poetics of Speech in the Medieval Spanish Epic, Toronto: UP, 2010. Bakker, Egbert, Poetry in Speech: Orality and Homeric Discourse, Ithaca: Cornell UP, 1997. Bakker, Egbert, “How Oral is Oral Composition?”, in E. Anne Mackay (ed.), Signs of Orality, Leiden: Brill, 1999, pp. 29-48. Bayo, Juan Carlos, “Poetic Discourse Patterning in the Cantar de Mio Cid”, Modern Language Review 96.1 (2001), 82-91. Carruthers, Mary, The Book of Memory: A Study of Memory in Medieval Culture, Cambridge: UP, 1990. Carruthers, Mary, The Craft of Thought, Cambridge: UP, 1998. Chafe, Wallace L., ed., The Pear Stories. Cognitive, Cultural, and Linguistic Aspects of Narrative Production, Norwood: Ablex, 1980. Chafe, Wallace L., Discourse, Consciousness, and Time, Chicago: UP. 1994. Chafe, Wallace L., “How Consciousness Shapes Language”, Pragmatics and Cognition 4.1 (1996), 35-54. Chafe, Wallace and Jane Danielwicz, Properties of Spoken and Written Language, Berkeley: UP, 1987. Clanchy, M.T., From Memory to Written Record: England 1066-1307, Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1979. Deyermond, Alan, “The Singer of Tales and the Mediaeval Spanish Epic”, Bulletin of Hispanic Studies 42 (1965), 1-8. 268 Bailey Deyermond, Alan, “Structural and Stylistic patterns in the Cantar de Mio Cid”, in Brian Dutton (ed.), Medieval Studies in Honor of Robert White Linker, Madrid: Castalia, 1973, pp. 55-71. Deyermond, Alan, La literatura perdida de la Edad Media. Catálogo y estudio, I: épica y romances, Salamanca: Ediciones Universidad, 1995. Duggan, Joseph J., “The Interface Between Oral and Written Transmission of the Cantar de Mio Cid”, La Corónica 33.2 (2005), 51-63. Finnegan, Ruth, Oral Poetry: Its Nature, Significance, and Social Contexts, Cambridge: UP, 1977. Fleischman, Suzanne, Tense and Narrativity: From Medieval Performance to Modern Fiction, Austin: Texas UP, 1990. Foley, John Miles, Homer’s Traditional Art, University Park: Pennsylvania State UP, 1999. Harvey, L.P., “The Metrical Irregularity of the Cantar de Mio Cid”, Bulletin of Hispanic Studies 40 (1963), 137-43. Lord, Albert Bates, “Homer, Parry, and Huso”, American Journal of Archaeology 52 (1948), 34-44. Lord, Albert Bates, The Singer of Tales, Revised ed., Introduction by Stephen Mitchell and Gregory Nagy, Cambridge: Harvard UP, 2000. Menéndez Pidal, Ramón, Poesía juglaresca y juglares, Madrid: Centro de Estudios Históricos, 1924. Menéndez Pidal, Ramón, Poesía juglaresca y juglares: aspectos de la historia literaria y cultural de España, 2 ed., Buenos Aires: Espasa-Calpe, 1945. Menéndez Pidal, Ramón, De primitiva lírica española y antigua épica, Buenos Aires: Espasa-Calpe, 1951. Menéndez Pidal, Ramón, ed., Primera crónica general, Madrid: Gredos, 1955. Menéndez Pidal, Ramón, En torno al Poema de mio Cid, Barcelona: EDHASA, 1963. Menéndez Pidal, Ramón, “Los cantores yugoeslavos y los occidentales: el Mio Cid y dos refundidores primitivos”, Boletín de la Real Academia de Buenas Letras de Barcelona 36 (1965-66), 195-225. Miletich John S., “Repetition and Aesthetic Function in the Poema de mio Cid and SouthSlavic Oral and Literary Epic”, Bulletin of Hispanic Studies 58 (1981), 189-96. Montaner, Alberto, ed., Cantar de mio Cid, Barcelona: Crítica, 1993; rev. ed., Madrid: Real Academia Española, 2011. Montaner, Alberto, “Revisión textual del Cantar de mio Cid”, La Corónica 33.2 (2005), 137-93. Montgomery, Thomas, Medieval Spanish Epic: Mythic Roots and Ritual Language, University Park: Penn State UP, 1998. Parry, Adam, ed., The Making of Homeric Verse: The Collected Papers of Milman Parry, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1971. Oral Expression in the Poema de mio Cid 269 Parry, Milman, “Studies in the Epic Technique of Oral Verse-Making”, Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 41 (1930), 73-147. Pawley, Andrew and Frances Hodgetts Syder, “Two Puzzles for Linguistic Theory: Nativelike Selection and Nativelike Fluency”, in Jack C. Richards and Richard W. Schmidt (eds.), Language and Communication, London: Longman, 1983, pp. 191-225. Powell, Brian, Epic and Chronicle: The “Poema de mio Cid” and the “Crónica de veinte reyes”, London: Modern Humanities Research Association, 1983. Rubin, David C., Memory in Oral Traditions: The Cognitive Psychology of Epic, Ballads, and Counting-out Rhymes, New York: Oxford UP, 1995. Stock, Brian, The Implications of Literacy: Written Language and Modes of Interpretation in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries, Princeton: UP, 1983. Zaderenko, Irene, Problemas de autoría, de estructura y de fuentes en el “Poema de mio Cid”, Alcalá de Henares: UP, 1998. Zaderenko, Irene, “Per Abbat en Cardeña”, Revista de Literatura Medieval 20 (2008), 177-90. Zaderenko, Irene, “Per Abbat en Cardeña. Addenda”, Revista de Literatura Medieval 21 (2009), 245-48. Zumthor, Paul, Oral Poetry: An Introduction, trans. Kathryn Murphy-Judy, Introduction by Walter Ong, Minneapolis: UP, 1990. 270 Figure 8.1 A juglar ( jongleur, singer of tales) acting with a musical instrument. ©Photo: Antonio García Omedes. Bailey Episodic Logic and the Structure of the Poema de mio Cid 271 Chapter 9 Episodic Logic and the Structure of the Poema de mio Cid Leonardo Funes Translated by Peter Mahoney 1 The Double Plot Structure The text of the PMC is preserved in a single manuscript, which is often referred to as the “Vivar codex” because it was discovered in the archive of Vivar’s town hall in the 16th century. The poem was copied as an uninterrupted series of verses without divisions or epigraphs to separate the text. However, there are some signs marking internal divisions: in verse 1085 we read “Aquís conpieça la gesta de myo Çid el de Biuar”, an odd statement considering that the epic song begins more than a thousand lines earlier.1 Likewise, in verses 2276-77 we read “Las coplas deste cantar aquís van acabando. / El Criador vos valla con todos los sos santos”, a clear indication of the poem’s closure and the authorial farewell, also strange since there are more than fifteen hundred verses until the conclusion of the poem. The most plausible explanation is that these verses signal the beginning and end of a cantar.2 Thus, it can be inferred that the poem is comprised of three cantares, each one similar in length, that probably corresponded to a performance by a juglar (minstrel) lasting 3 or 4 hours. The titles Menéndez Pidal gave them – “Cantar del Destierro” (Song of the Exile), “Cantar de las Bodas” (Song of the Weddings), and “Cantar de la Afrenta de Corpes” (Song of the Affront at Corpes) – were accepted by most scholars and 1 Some scholars argue that in this verse “gesta” refers to the conquest of Valencia, thought to be the hero’s greatest exploit, which is about to be narrated. According to Montaner (Cantar de mio Cid, p. 398), in medieval Spanish “gesta” only meant “hazaña, proeza”, at most “historia o relato de una hazaña”, but not “cantar de gesta” or “parte de un cantar”. Regardless of how we understand this word, if the verse alludes to a moment in the narration, it clearly establishes a demarcation and creates an implicit (as well as figurative) meaning meant to announce the beginning of a new part of the epic song. 2 Since we do not have the first folio of the codex, it is impossible to know what the initial words of the enunciation were; at the end of the poem we read: “Estas son las nuevas de myo Çid el Canpeador. / En este logar se acaba esta razón” (vv. 3730-31), but given the problematic nature of the Vivar codex’s explicit, it is not clear if these were the concluding words of the poem. © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004363755_011 272 Funes were used especially in studies and editions prepared for a wide-reaching audience. Since it is questionable if these titles reflect their main content, like most contemporary critics, I prefer to speak of the first, second, and third cantar.3 Regarding its poetic enunciation, although the poem is divided into three cantares the plot’s structure is bipartite: it narrates a double process of loss and restoration of the hero’s honor. The first plot begins with the exile of the hero, unjustly punished by King Alfonso who believes the false accusations made by the Cid’s enemies in the court (the loss of the first folio of the only extant manuscript precludes us from knowing with absolute certainty what these charges were). Once in Moorish territory, Rodrigo Díaz accomplishes a series of victories, which increase his wealth and inspire more warriors to join his military campaigns in order to share his glory. These military operations culminate in his greatest triumph: the conquest of Valencia. After sending three gift-bearing embassies to King Alfonso, the Cid reunites with his family in Valencia and eventually reconciles with the monarch on the shores of the Tagus River. As we can see, the central theme of this plot is the relationship between lord and vassal: the Cid shows himself to be a good vassal and the king becomes a good lord. The second plot begins precisely on the Tagus River with the marriage arrangement of the hero’s daughters to the Infantes of Carrión, sons of the Count of Carrión and members of the highest circle of court nobility, who are hostile towards the Cid, an infanzón belonging to the low rural nobility. The Infantes of Carrión reveal their cowardice both in the Cid’s home (the lion’s episode) as well as in combat (the episode of the pitched battle against King Bucar). When faced with such a self-inflicted dishonor, the Infantes plan to avenge themselves by beating and torturing their wives. The revenge is carried out in the Corpes oak-forest. The Cid demands justice from the king, who convenes a court trial in Toledo. The judicial proceedings conclude with duels in which the Infantes are defeated and dishonored, whereas the Cid’s daughters contract a more advantageous marriage with the crown princes of Navarre and Aragon. The central theme of this plot, as set within the domestic framework of the hero’s family, is the conflict between the upper and lower nobility. 3 Very few critics have rejected the division of the poem into three cantares, an idea first put forward by Lidforss (Los cantares de myo Cid) and later by Menéndez Pidal (Cantar de mio Cid). Since the three cantares do not have the same function, some scholars disregard the division of the second cantar (Garci Gómez, Cantar de mio Cid), while others reject any division at all (Horrent, Cantar de Mio Cid; Pattison, “How many cantares are there in the Poema de Mio Cid?”). It is important to point out these disagreements because they reveal the difficulty of reconciling story and discourse (or enunciated and enunciation). Episodic Logic and the Structure of the Poema de mio Cid 273 The most important scholars who have studied the problem of the poem’s structure concur that it has a bipartite organization. Alan Deyermond’s study of 1973 (“Structural and Stylistic Patterns in the Cantar de Mio Cid”) and Ruth H. Webber’s analysis published that same year (“Narrative Organization of the Cantar de mio Cid”), which includes a schema of how the episodes of the poem are organized, are the first in a series of publications that have led to significant developments on this topic: Ian Michael’s The Poem of the Cid; Sofía Kantor’s “Estructura narrativa del Cantar de Mio Cid”, perhaps the most noteworthy narratological contribution; Alberto Montaner’s “El Cid: mito y símbolo”; as well as other studies by Deyermond (“La estructura del Cantar de Mio Cid, comparada con la de otros poemas épicos medievales”) and Webber (“Towards the Morphology of the Romance Epic” and “The Spanish Epic in the Context of the Medieval European Epic”). They all confirm the prevalence of bipartite structures in medieval Spanish epic through a comparative analysis with Romance, Germanic, and Byzantine epic traditions. In our case, the PMC has a narrative structure consisting of a double process of loss and restoration of honor that can be viewed as variation on the same theme, but would be more accurate to analyze it in terms of intensification. Honor, therefore, is the element that unites both parts of the story.4 Following Pavlović’s intelligent analysis (“The Three Aspects of Honour”), we should take into consideration the three meanings of “honor”, all present in the Latin word honor-honoris: 1) el honor refers to the public realm and is connected to the social prestige of a person; 2) in medieval Spanish, a person’s property was typically referred to as las onores or la onor; and 3) private honor, which is related to a personal moral dimension, was generally called la honra. Although the use of vocabulary is not systematic in the Poema, it is evident that el honor and las onores are the subject of the first part of the story, while the second part is about recuperating la honra.5 The storyline can be illustrated by the following diagram:6 4 Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid, p. 375. 5 As noted by Pavlović (“The Three Aspects of Honour”, pp. 104-05), the mix of terminology found in the Poema does not imply conceptual confusion; the poet knew what dimension of honor he was dealing with in each episode. 6 I would like to make two clarifications about this diagram: 1) it is meant to serve as an abstract illustration of how the most decisive moments of the storyline are articulated; for that reason, it does not show that the poem’s dénouement is, in fact, a higher point in the story than the Cid being granted the royal pardon at the conclusion of the second cantar; and 2) it is more accurate than what is often called the “W-plot structure”, since there is not an initial segment of the story presenting a positive situation, later degraded by the dishonor of exile (there was not sufficient space for such a development in the verses of the now-lost first folio; the text likely started with the motif of the disgraced hero). 274 Funes Pardon Banishment Final Reparation Affront As pointed out by Deyermond,7 it is interesting that each of these critical points is the result of failed intentions that lead to opposite outcomes. Thus, by banishing the Cid, King Alfonso presumes to punish the hero and, therefore, subject him to very unfavorable conditions. However, by virtue of his exile, the Cid is granted a freedom he would not have enjoyed in the royal court; this allows him to undertake an ambitious military enterprise on his own that would elevate him to become lord of Valencia, thereby favoring him unintendedly. A similar result occurs with the opposite intention. After their reconciliation, the monarch’s desire to favor the Campeador by marrying his daughters to the Infantes of Carrión, which would assure a social promotion for the Cid’s descendants, produces the opposite result, the hero’s dishonor, when his daughters are beaten and abandoned by their husbands at Corpes. But against the Infantes’ expectation to avenge themselves by dishonoring the Cid through defaming his daughters, their actions would make it possible for Doña Elvira and Doña Sol to regain and increase their marriage possibilities. In the end, they attain even more honorable matches with the royal heirs of Navarre and Aragon, and the dishonorable repudiation and abandonment will ultimately benefit the hero and his descendants. As Deyermond rightly concludes, “la ironía llega a ser un principio estructural del Cantar”.8 The existence of these two plots related to the Cid’s exile and his daughters’ affront, which are so dissimilar, could lead to an erroneous understanding of the poem’s overall structure in at least two ways. On the one hand, it could be argued that there is a weak articulation joining the two parts, which would take us back to the long-debated issue concerning the presence of more than one author. On the other hand, it can be explained in terms of symmetrical, mirrored, or inverted relationships between the two parts, which would convert the poem into some sort of narrative diptych of a highly sophisticated 7 Deyermond, El “Cantar de Mio Cid” y la épica española, pp. 30-31. 8 Deyermond, El “Cantar de Mio Cid” y la épica española, p. 31. Episodic Logic and the Structure of the Poema de mio Cid 275 complexity. This idea was put forward by Webber and has inspired Boix Jovaní’s more extreme interpretation.9 Many scholars have put forward different arguments defending the strong structural cohesiveness between the two narrative developments. The storylines are interwoven from the very beginning: when the Cid bids his family farewell in Cardeña, he exclaims, “Plega a Dios e a Santa María / que aún con mis manos case estas mis fijas” (vv. 282-82b). Thus, the theme of the weddings has already been introduced before Rodrigo leaves for exile. Similarly, the Infantes of Carrión appear at the time of the second embassy (vv. 1372-77), much earlier than the episode of the vistas on the shore of the Tagus River that concludes the first part of the story, a point to which I shall return in the pages ahead. Another interesting example of structural cohesiveness is provided by Doña Sol’s speech just before the Infantes carry out their punishment at Corpes (vv. 2725-32). Her mentioning of the swords Colada and Tizón evokes previous episodes in which the Cid’s heroic exploits are narrated, and the allusion to the “cortes” prefigures the final process of restoring the Cid’s lost honor through legal channels. Montaner also sees a causal relationship between the two parts of the poem, insofar as the hero’s deeds will give rise not only to his reconciliation with the monarch but also to Alfonso’s plan to marry Rodrigo’s daughters to the Infantes. He attributes, in fact, a particular motive to the early appearance of the heirs of Carrión. In Montaner’s view, the king’s decision to forgive the Cid only comes after learning of the Infantes’ plans, which indicate that his change of heart towards the hero was shared by the court nobility.10 His argument is perceptive, but he perhaps overanalyzes the intentions of literary characters never explicitly made by the poet. Even more debatable is Georges Martin’s interpretation of the passage in which King Alfonso expresses his willingness to reconcile with the hero and relay the request to ask for the hand of the Cid’s daughters on the Infantes’ behalf.11 According to Martin, it is the Infantes’ request to marry the Cid’s daughters that prompts the royal pardon. We have, in his view, a kind of extortion on the part of King Alfonso: Rodrigo will be pardoned only if he were to consent to give his daughters in matrimony. This would mean that the royal act is insincere, being the result of calculated interests, and is motivated by the desire to favor the Infantes, who are members of the upper nobility and the king’s entourage. Based on this reading, a 9 10 11 Webber, “The Spanish Epic in the Context”, p. 334; Boix Jovaní, El “Cantar de Mio Cid: adscripción genérica y estructura tripartita. Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid, p. 377. The hypothesis was presented in his edition of the poem (Chanson de Mon Cid, pp. 41-42) and reiterated in his chapter of this volume. 276 Funes true change of heart towards the Cid on the part of King Alfonso would only occur after the “Afrenta de Corpes”. It is unnecessary to reiterate here the dangers of speculating about literary characters’ intentions that are never made explicit by the poet. In keeping with the general characteristics of heroic poetry, the PMC lacks psychological introspection; that is why the characters’ emotions, passions, and intentions are externally manifested mainly in words, deeds, and only occasionally in a narrator’s explicit commentary. It is evident that the silent word of the text that has survived has left us with passages difficult to interpret (is any given speech an affirmative, ironic, sardonic, or threatening expression?). This problem would not have existed for a medieval public, because such ambiguities would have been clarified in the minstrel’s performance with all its predictable variations that are unrecoverable today. But even so, we are not dealing with a hazy locus of interpretation regarding King Alfonso’s motivation for granting a royal pardon. The monarch’s favorable disposition towards the Cid has been gradually revealed by his reactions to the embassies sent by the hero. These envoys emphasize not only the magnitude of the Cid’s exploits and his ensuing wealth, but also his unwavering vasallatic fidelity to the king even if the hero is not legally obliged to him, a striking attitude as impressive as the enormity of the spoils. What can be inferred from King Alfonso’s words is that his decision to reconcile with the Cid is motivated by the warrior’s wealth as well as his fidelity (“en todas guisas mijor me sirve”, v. 1349; “aun vea el ora que de mi sea pagado”, v. 1857; “faziendo yo a él mal e él a mí grand pro”, v. 1891; “andarle quiero a mio Cid en toda pro”, v. 1913). These assertions already establish a sharp contrast between the monarch’s motivations and those driving the Infantes of Carrión. Therefore, there is neither deceit nor second thoughts when it comes to granting the royal pardon. When King Alfonso is faced with the Infantes’ request, he thinks about it for a good while – the poet uses on two occasions the expression “una grant ora […] pensó e comidió” (vv. 1889 and 1932), a device employed to call attention to a character’s reaction when faced with a displeasing request. The king’s response (vv. 1890-93) indicates that he would prefer not getting involved in order to avoid upsetting the Cid again, and that he ultimately consents because he has to favor his closest vassals. Limiting ourselves to the poem’s structure, what we can understand is that the Infantes’ request is used to incorporate the motif of the ill-fated wedding in the complex articulation of the two plots, which is done in a masterful way: the Infantes provide the seed of the new conflict, which is planted by the very characters affected by it, King Alfonso and the Cid, because of their binding vasallatic obligations that are stronger than their desires. According to Martin’s reading, however, the link connecting the two Episodic Logic and the Structure of the Poema de mio Cid 277 storylines of the poem is seen as the transition from an imperfect royal pardon in the first plot to a sincere and complete reconciliation at the end of the story. I believe, instead, that it is more pertinent to view the articulation of both plots – and the ascending gradation of the hero’s triumph at the end of each one – in accordance with Montaner’s interpretation, who points out that “los calumniadores del Cid, que no habían sido castigados al resolverse el primer conflicto, reciben al final su merecido en la figura de su cabecilla, el conde Garcí Ordóñez […]. Así, de un modo u otro, todos los oponentes del Cid, viejos y nuevos, reciben su merecido”.12 I would add the following to Montaner’s argument: contrary to the notion that the poem would arrive at its normal conclusion with the reconciliation between King Alfonso and the Cid, and that the second part of the Poema would be a collateral plot complication – which would lead us to hypothesize about the existence of an oral Cantar de mio Cid sung by juglares that had a simple plot later reworked (most likely) in writing as in its current form with a more complex storyline, it is important to emphasize the significance of verses 3724-25 (“Oy los reyes d’España sos parientes son / a todos alcança ondra por el que en buen ora naçió”). With the word “oy” (today), which fuses the time of the narrated with the time of the narration,13 the entire poem arrives at its true conclusion: the hero, who has been on a continuous quest to recover an honor he had been deprived of,14 becomes himself the fountainhead of honor that would shower the kingdoms of Spain through its monarchs. For this reason, the Cid’s reconciliation with King Alfonso is not enough; it is necessary for him to guarantee the posterity of his heroic virtue and honor by becoming related to Spain’s future kings. Here we have, in addition to the successful punishment of the Cid’s enemies, the true denouement of the entire story. 2 Patterns of the Episodic Structure Within this general scheme, we see the recurrence of binary structural patterns (the pairing of characters: Rachel and Vidas, the Infantes of Carrión, Doña Elvira and Doña Sol, and stylistic pairings: twin and linked series of verses), as well as ternary patterns: prevalence of the number three and its multiples in the utilization of numbers; predominance of the Law of Three 12 13 14 Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid, p. 378. See Soler Bistué, “Historia y ficción en el Poema de Mio Cid”, pp. 200-01. We should remember Bowra’s long-established notion that heroic activity is the pursuit of honor through risk (Heroic Poetry, p. 5). 278 Funes – common in folktales – detectable in several episodes, such as the three embassies sent to King Alfonso and the three judicial duels. To this, it is necessary to add the contrasting structural patterns pointed out by Deyermond,15 such as the closed doors in Burgos and the open ones at Cardeña; the cordiality and loyalty with which Abengalbon treats the Infantes of Carrión despite not having any legal ties to them, which contrasts with the duplicity of the Infantes, who are legally obliged to their father-in-law; the Cid’s journey from Castile to Valencia (from dishonor to restoration of honor), unlike that of the Infantes’ from Valencia to Castile (beginning with honor, ending in both deshonra and deshonor). It is possible to detect influences from oral practices of discourse, typical of the singer of tales, in the composition of the story, either because a significant portion of its current configuration was already present in previous oral recitations of the Cid’s epic cycle, or because the learned author who composed the extant poem was imbued with constructive patterns that had been forged in the dynamic of the oral tradition. The broadest and most basic of these processes is the construction of the story resulting from the articulation of major, relatively predictable episodes. In all epic narratives it is normal to expect departures, voyages, battles, duels, assemblies, weddings, and trials. Obviously, not all of them are included in every epic text, nor are they presented in any particular order. The poet, in fact, functions as operating through a combinatorial process. The next process affects the construction of each of these major episodes by means of interweaving narrative and descriptive minor units, such as mounted shock combat,16 the enumeration of warriors, the clanging of swords in combat, the ritual gestures demonstrating the hero’s obedience to his king, etc.; in other words, what scholars who study folktales call motifs. This structuring modality of the poetic narrative is what enables the “episodic logic” to have a considerable impact on the overall configuration of the poem. The following schema attempts to provide a more detailed explanation of how the episodes are organized:17 15 16 17 Deyermond, “Structural and Stylistic Patterns in the Cantar de Mio Cid”, pp. 59-61. On this matter, see Justel Vicente, “La carga de choque”. The number in parenthesis indicates the tirada (the poem’s irregular series of verses), not the lines of the poem. Episodic Logic and the Structure of the Poema de mio Cid First cantar Departure from Vivar and arrival to Burgos (1-5) I. Burgos (1-11) Hero’s departure (1-22) Rachel and Vidas episode (6-11) Rodrigo Díaz’s reunion with II. San Pedro de Cardeña his family in Cardeña (12-17) (12-18) Doña Jimena’s prayer (18) Vision of the Angel Gabriel (19) III. Departure from Castile (19-22) Journey into exile (20-22) Episode of Castejón (23-25) IV. First victories (23-40) Episode of Alcocer (26-31) Battle with Fáriz and Galbe (32-40) First embassy sent to King Alfonso (41-43 / 47-51) Sale of Alcocer (44-46) V. First attempt to reconcile with King Alfonso (41-54) The Cid’s military activity in Zaragoza (52-54) Battle of Tévar (55-58) The Count of Barcelona’s hunger strike (59-63) VI. Count of Barcelona episode (55-63) Hero’s qualifying tests (23-63) 279 280 Funes Second cantar Campaign in the area surrounding Valencia (64-71) VII. Conquest of Valencia (64-79) Main test (64-79) VIII. Second attempt to reconcile with King Alfonso (80-87) First glorification of the hero (80-111) Conquest of Valencia and its defense from the king of Seville (72-79) Second embassy to King Alfonso (80-82) The Cid’s family reunites with the hero (83-85) The Cid’s welcoming (86-87) Battle with the king of Morocco (88-95) IX. Third attempt to reconcile with King Alfonso (88-102) Third embassy to King Alfonso (96-102) Vistas on the shore of the Tagus River (103-04) Weddings of the Cid’s daughters (105-11) X. Reconciliation (103-11) Episodic Logic and the Structure of the Poema de mio Cid 281 Third cantar The lion episode (112) Battle with Bucar (113-22) XI. “Afrenta de Corpes” (112-32) Honra affronted (112-32) XII. “Cortes de Toledo” (133-49) Reparation of the hero’s honra: glorifying test (13349) XIII. Judicial duels in Carrión (150-52) Final glorification of the hero (150-52) “Afrenta de Corpes” (123-32) King Alfonso convokes the Cortes (133-34) Preparations (135-36) Judicial trial (137-49) Judicial duels in Carrión (150-52) Second weddings (152) This schema is only meant to give an idea of how the episodes are organized and to grasp, at the same time, the dynamic articulation behind the entire narration. Each column attempts to bring together significant narrative units that are similar in nature, but as many previous attempts have demonstrated – those of Michael, Webber, and Kantor, among others –, any pretension of achieving a perfect design with harmonious symmetries is either met with failure or yields dubious conclusions. For instance, interest in showing ternary patterns in the episodes’ order compelled Michael to organize a series of units based on historical and geographic criteria for the first part of the story (“Campaña del Henares”, “Campaña del Jalón”, “Campaña del Jiloca”, “Iniciación de la campaña levantina”), units that are better suited for compartmentalizing chronistic material than for explaining the narrative dynamic of a poetic discourse.18 In his analysis, the narrative sequences constituting each episode vary significantly in nature: while some are simply the itinerary’s segments (II.1. “Vision in Figueruela”, IV.1 “El Poyo”), others constitute entire episodes in of themselves (IV.3 “Count of Barcelona”). But this same lack of balance is 18 I do not mean to impugn the importance of geography in the PMC (we only have to consider the extent to which scholars have studied the Cid’s itineraries). I merely wish to point out that it is not an appropriate criterion for episodic division. For a broader study on the geographic dimension of the PMC – although it has no bearing on how episodes are organized – see Montaner, “Un canto de frontera (geopolítica y geopoética del Cantar de mio Cid)”. 282 Funes found in every schema that has been proposed until now, including mine, because different patterns of organization are underscored in each case. What can be concluded from these schemas is that those patterns function as tendencies rather than formal criteria that must be strictly obeyed: we are not dealing with Dante’s Commedia. It is likely that this is due to what I call “episodic logic”, that is to say, forms of articulating major narrative units with a relative autonomy in ways that, to our eyes, which are shaped by modern scopic regimes, they appear as fissures, incoherencies, or flaws that a medieval audience evidently did not perceive or did not take into account when judging the merits and appeal of an epic text. Keeping this in mind, I will now comment on the schema presented above. As it can be observed, the major episodes articulating the story development are indicated in the middle column; each one is made up of sub-episodes – some of which with considerable narrative autonomy, such as the lion episode – that appear in the left-hand column. The right-hand column makes clear how the narrative structure depends on traditional patterns of universal character as analyzed by A.J. Greimas (“Eléments pour une théorie de l’interprétation”), based on Claude Lévi-Strauss’ research on the myth (Mythologiques. I). The hero’s departure, in this case, not as an emissary but as a man expelled from his community, initiates a journey marked by tests he must overcome in order to recuperate his lost honor. First, the qualifying tests through which the hero obtains the talisman that will enable him to prevail over the main test, the objective of his heroic mission. In the case of the PMC, these qualifying tests have a modest beginning with the Rachel and Vidas episode, which serves to provide the economic support necessary for the hero’s journey. The tests are fully manifested, however, in the series of initial victories – beginning with Castejón and ending with the Battle of Tévar. These qualifying tests provide the Cid with the opportunity to increase his fortune and attract more warriors, which he will ultimately need to win his most important trial, the conquest of Valencia, which in the Poema functions as the main test. When we consider the economy of the text, it may not seem immediately apparent that the conquest of Valencia – an episode some scholars have judged to be relatively brief when compared to other secondary battles – is the main test. There are, however, two weighty arguments to support this claim. The first one, extratextual, has to do with the public to whom the poem was addressed and the consensus among them that this conquest was the Cid’s greatest exploit. The second, intratextual, is related to the fundamental structural change that occurs in the poem beginning with this episode. The mobility, which governs the conduct of the hero and his men after their departure from Castile – keeping in mind that it was impossible for them to remain Episodic Logic and the Structure of the Poema de mio Cid 283 indefinitely in one place –, is replaced by the hero’s stability, who is now forced to remain in Valencia except for when he goes to the vistas on the shore of the Tagus River and to the Cortes in Toledo.19 This important change in the impact of spatiality is related, up to a point, to the phenomenon of transmitting the condition of heroism to a new generation of men, by which the Cid relinquishes to others the mobility and direct action. This is first seen in the sequence of his daughters’ rescue; it is also symbolized by conferring the swords Colada and Tizón to Martín Antolínez and Pero Bermúdez; and it is clearly manifested in the judicial duels in Carrión. According to traditional models of narrative configuration I mentioned earlier, once the hero’s mission is successfully completed, he undergoes some kind of transformation – either positive or negative, internal or external – that makes him unrecognizable to the community to which he belongs. In the stage corresponding to the hero’s return, this fact compels him to carry out one last type of test – the one that glorifies him – whose objective is to make his community recognize either his identity or his status as a hero. I have identified the “Cortes de Toledo” as the Cid’s glorifying test based on the following arguments: it is a heroic exploit that is at the same level of importance as his previous victories and conquests – that is, the qualifying tests and the main test – except that it does not take place in a military sphere. Consequently, the hero is put to the test in two ways. On the one hand, the Cid’s first test is to control the urge to violently avenge himself by not taking justice into his own hands and seeking, instead, legal reparation through a trial. This has very important ideological repercussions on the overall meaning of the poem, insofar as it makes legal conflicts the main subject of the story and that the poet resolves them by favoring a more “civilized” way of settling disputes, a most remarkable aspect that distinguishes the PMC from all other poems of the medieval epic tradition. Bringing this argument to the logical conclusion, I want to stress that this test can also be understood in terms of the victorious hero’s reintegration into the norms of his community in order to gain recognition of his heroic identity. Another aspect of this episode is to test the Cid to determine if he can directly defeat his internal enemies, the Beni Gómez clan, on a field that does not require the use of arms and that would seem to favor, a priori, the ricos omnes of the court who were more accustomed to law books and the chancellery norms regarding legal disputes. Here, another of the hero’s virtues is manifested – his intellectual superiority –, since the Cid defeats his enemies in their own sphere. At the same time, we should also keep in mind that in the first test of the hero’s glorification (the vistas on the shore of the 19 See Boix Jovaní, “Rodrigo Díaz, de señor de la guerra a señor de Valencia”. 284 Funes Tagus River), the Cid’s enemies do not participate – nor are they forced to take part – despite being present, as we learn from the poet’s brief mention of their displeasure when the hero finally reconciles with the king: “pesó a Álbar Díaz e a Garçi Ordóñez” (v. 2042). But with the acknowledgement of their defeat after the duels in Carrión, the entire Beni Gómez clan recognizes, through the Infantes, the Cid’s supremacy. Thus, the test glorifying the hero is complete. As we can see, the PMC meets the basic schema of heroic stories found in medieval epic and in heroic poetry in general. This schema (hero’s departure, tests, return, and acknowledgement) along with the even more basic patterns of narratological development (deprivation caused by dispossession → cessation of deprivation; rupture of the initial harmony or balance → restoration of harmony or balance; damage → reparation) constitute not only a constructive pattern found in both popular and learned spheres of oral and written discursive practices, but also a frame of reference for the public that makes up the same textual community that, for that reason, shares the same codes. 3 Episodic Logic With respect to the process of the episodes’ articulation and the sequential syntax that organizes them, I will only focus on episodic logic as not to repeat here the long description of elements that scholars of narratology have been formulating in their analysis of traditional fictional tales over the last one hundred years. I should clarify that my notion of episodic logic is different from how Deyermond defines it.20 In my view, episodic logic is a compositional modality achieved by combining large narrative blocks pre-fabricated in the oral tradition through a process of draft and adjustment, as proposed by Hart, where major narrative sequences, in perfect temporal-causal articulation within the general plan of the story, possess a certain degree of autonomy in their configuration.21 This is demonstrated, for example, in the Rachel and Vidas episode or the one with the lion. It can also be seen in a more nuanced manner in episodes relating to battles, which, in formal terms, function almost as short 20 21 According to Deyermond, “un episodio sucede a otro, sin más hilo conductor que uno o más protagonistas. La causalidad funciona dentro del episodio, pero no hay relación causal entre episodios” (“La estructura del Cantar de Mio Cid”, p. 25). This process was described by Hart in “Characterization and Plot Structure in the Poema de Mio Cid”. Episodic Logic and the Structure of the Poema de mio Cid 285 independent stories. This, however, is most evident in the function and representation of characters. For this reason, we cannot strictly speak about “character development” with regard to King Alfonso change of attitude when confronting the legal disputes in the first and third cantares. Clearly, there is a causal relationship between the embassies sent by the Cid to the king, and the monarch’s gradual decision to grant the royal pardon and reconcile with Rodrigo. This is a narrative dynamic that exceeds the confines of one particular episode. However, in the very configuration and functionality of a character within specific episodes, there is another model – another logic – at work that in a decisive manner makes the episode comprehensible. The “Hero’s exile” section – indicated in the schema as part of the “Burgos”, “Cardeña”, and “Departure from Castile” episodes – requires the role of an “unjust king”. Although we cannot provide an unequivocal assessment since we do not have the first folio of the manuscript, everything seems to suggest that the king’s function is actually heightened by removing him from the scene – condensing his presence to the “carta fuertemientre sellada” – and by leaving judgement of him to the comments uttered by the people of Burgos. Accordingly, an imperative of the internal logic of the “Hero’s exile” episode is fulfilled, since such an exile is always unjust or a consequence of a monarch’s misguided action, which is his fault or the fault of someone else. As for the “trial or legal assembly” episode – seen here embodied in the “Cortes de Toledo” and the “Judicial duels in Carrión” –, it requires the function of “arbitrator king, fair judge” who is placed above the opposing factions, and yet, who still favors the hero, not arbitrarily, but rather as an act of pure justice.22 The characterization of the Infantes of Carrión manifests this case even more clearly: we know that they are negative characters from their first appearance, but their cowardice is fully manifested in the lion’s episode and later in the battle against King Bucar. With these antecedents, their conduct in the episode of the judicial duels in Carrión appears incongruent, for our expectations would be that they are unable to even mount their horses or that they would throw themselves to the ground pleading for mercy. Instead, the Infantes have sufficient will to confront the Cid’s champions and exchange blows with lances and swords – unsuccessful blows of poor quality, but blows nevertheless. This incongruity is explained by the internal logic of the “judicial duels” episode, which requires relative equality between the combatants in order to preserve its relevance and the principle of narrative 22 For more information on this subject, see Geoffrey West’s article, “The Cid and Alfonso VI Re-visited”. 286 Funes interest: a judicial duel between two poorly matched combatants lacks appeal, especially when it is essential for the episode.23 The aforementioned study by Hart (“Characterization and Plot Structure”), which brings together the matters of narrative structure and character representation, is an interesting contribution to this line of study. He relies on Gombrich’s notion of pictorial representation as a process of “draft and adjustment” to describe the process of constructing characters as a projection and correction of the fortitudo-sapientia model, which has its origins in a longestablished epic tradition both learned and popular. Just as the Cid incarnates these two virtues, all the men of his retinue – Álvar Fáñez, Martín Antolínez, Pedro Bermúdez, Muño Gustioz – embody these qualities in varying degrees. On the other hand, Rodrigo’s enemies are characterized by different deficiencies of these virtues. By conceiving the plot structure as a draft and adjustment of the narrative matrix on which the myth of the hero’s quest and tests are based, Hart points out that the most significant difference detected in the PMC is the lack of an educational and transformational process undergone by the hero, in which the heroic experience allows him to learn and mature, changing him in an irreversible way. We do not find this type of evolution in the case of the Cid. Of course, the action narrated in the poem is irreversible, but “not because the Cid has been changed by his contact with the world but because by his own actions he has changed that world”.24 Towards the end of “Structural and Stylistic Patterns” (pp. 69-71), Deyermond raised questions and anticipated conclusions that are still discussed in current scholarly debates about these matters as well as others of broader repercussions connected to them. First of all, he questions whether these structural designs are really found in the text, or if they exist only in the critics’ minds. And second, he asks what the repercussions of these different approaches have on the long-debated question of the work’s unity and the learned versus popular nature of its composition. With respect to the first question, it suffices to look at the high number of similarities found among all the proposed explanations of the PMC’s episodic nature to conclude that such a form of narrative structuring is indeed found in the text and is not the result of how scholars have been reading the work. In any case, it should be a warning to be taken seriously when dealing with a text like the PMC, especially whenever it is proposed that the poet was influenced by Latin literature. 23 24 Although there is no doubt about how the confrontations narrated in the “Judicial duels in Carrión” will conclude, the poet nevertheless relies upon an added feature: the ongoing threat that the Beni Gómez clan will cheat (vv. 3540-41, 3574-80, 3593-94, 3600-02). Hart, “Characterization and Plot Structure”, p. 70. Episodic Logic and the Structure of the Poema de mio Cid 4 287 Binary Storyline, Ternary Enunciation Before considering the conclusions about the PMC’s unity and form of composition that can be drawn from this description of the narrative structure, it is necessary to address a problem I mentioned at the beginning of this study: the discrepancy between the binary disposition of the narrated matter and the ternary organization of the poetic enunciation. This also brings us to the problematic relationship between episodic articulation and the division into tiradas of the poem’s verses, in addition to the inherent question about the criteria governing the change in assonance that determines the end of one tirada and the beginning of another. At this inferior organizational level of the poetic enunciation, there have been attempts to find correspondences between the episodic series of the story and the tiradas of the poem,25 as a consequence, in the majority of cases, of attempts to elucidate the criteria for the change in assonance. In this regard, Montaner offers a detailed summary of all the hypotheses formulated by different scholars in addition to making an inventory of the criteria employed, which need not be repeated here.26 However, I would like to underscore two conclusions that can be drawn from his summary: 1) these criteria do not constitute poetic rules that must be followed to the letter; rather, like everything else we have discussed throughout this study, they are merely tendencies; and 2) there are no possible correlations between episode and tirada, but there are evident connections linking narrative sequences and the poem’s division into tiradas. That those relationships do not conform to rules of equivalence indicates that there are other factors at work in the elaboration of the discourse: if, at the level of the story, we found the “interest factor” operating, at the level of discourse we can detect aesthetic factors such as the “principle of variation”. Matters related to the purely formal dimension of verse – and, for that reason, unrelated to the thematic and the strictly narrative – have a bearing on their ultimate configuration and contribute to an aesthetic effect on a public able to appreciate the poet’s “buen decir” and skill. Keeping all these considerations in mind, we can address the broader matter of the relationship between the plotlines and the cantares. I began this study alluding to verses that were likely meant to have a demarcating function on which the arguments by those scholars who believe that the poem is divided into three cantares are based. There are two questions that must be considered 25 26 For example, see Robert M. Johnston, “The Function of Laisse”. Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid, pp. 394-97. 288 Funes here: 1) were these verses interpolated into the text or do they correspond to the very creative impulse that led to the poem’s overall composition?; and 2) what is their impact on the structure of the poem? In “El ‘Cantar de las bodas’”, Germán Orduna asserts that they are interpolations because “parecen ajenos a la andadura propia del poema en la versión que conocemos”.27 Other scholars, from Damas-Hinard (Poème du Cid) to Pattison (“How Many Cantares”), maintain the same hypothesis. However, the majority of critics is more inclined to believe that they originated with the poet, regardless of whether or not they believe that the verses were meant to divide the poem. According to Michael, they are necessary adjustments made for the sake of representation, which weakened the artistic structure crafted by the poet. Michael’s opinion brings us to the second question: the impact of these verses on the poem’s structure. If we accept the notion that these divisions are an intrinsic part of the poem and were not interpolated by users of the text for the purpose of oral recitation, we are faced with the following options: either we have a case in which the formal criteria of enunciation (arranged for a minstrel’s performance) have prevailed to the detriment of the plot structure or, on the contrary, the characteristics of its own narrative structure have led to this enunciation’s tripartite arrangement as the most efficient way to make the story more intelligible. In a recent study I mentioned earlier (El “Cantar de Mio Cid”: adscripción genérica y estructura tripartita), Boix Jovaní offers a solution to this problem, proposing that there are not two, but three storylines. By disregarding the notion of the plot as a double process of loss and recuperation of honor, he proposes a ternary model instead. His argument is that there are two symmetrical plots, which he calls “destierro” and “antidestierro”. In the first, the Cid is the protagonist – the journey from Castile to Valencia –, and in the second, the Infantes of Carrión are the protagonists – the journey from Valencia to Corpes. Between the two plots, he posits an intermediary plot he dubs “Cuento de los Infantes de Carrión”, which would reach its climax with the weddings in Valencia. It is impossible to summarize here the complex argumentation Boix Jovaní offers in support of this hypothesis. Suffice to say that he piles up new and bold hypotheses, such as proposing that the PMC belongs to a sub-genre of the French epic called “cantar de aventuras”, a type of narration more akin to the roman than to epic poems. Again, it would be impossible to discuss his arguments here with the attention they deserve, which is why I leave the task of evaluating his hypotheses to the readers. Nonetheless, I will be so bold as to express my disagreement by calling attention to one point I consider crucial: there is not one moment in the poem when the Cid ceases to be the prota27 Orduna, “El ‘Cantar de las Bodas’”, p. 414. Episodic Logic and the Structure of the Poema de mio Cid 289 gonist of the story – even in those passages in which he is not present –, since the perspective of the narrator remains invariably on his side. Boix Jovaní acknowledges this in his conclusions: “Se trata [el enfoque desde la perspectiva de los infantes] de una operación metodológica, puesto que los protagonistas de la trama no son realmente los infantes, sino el Cid, como en el resto del poema, siendo los de Carrión antagonistas del Campeador”.28 In order to take on this problem, if we were to accept the plot’s binary model, it is necessary to bring into our discussion one final aspect regarding the structuring of the heroic narration: the storylines do not follow a strict succession – that is to say, as soon as one storyline ends, the second one immediately begins. Instead, the two storylines overlap: the second storyline begins before the first one has ended. Therefore, there is a segment in the poem where a double plot starts to evolve. It begins with the second embassy – precisely when the Infantes of Carrión make their first appearance discussing among themselves the advantages and disadvantages of marring the Cid’s daughters – and concludes with the vistas at the Tagus River, where the betrothal ceremony of Doña Elvira and Doña Sol to the Infantes of Carrión takes place. It is a segment consisting of nearly eight hundred verses (vv. 1372-2155) in which the poet’s narrative mastery is put to the test in order to make sure that the listening public will grasp the story’s meaning in its oral delivery. If, as Deyermond supposed, irony is the structuring principle in the poem – an accurate judgment in my opinion –, then it is in this segment where this principle is fully manifested: it is a question of explaining how a terrible misfortune can come from something good, despite the good intentions of most of the characters involved. Here, it becomes clear that the second plot is not a mere “complication” – it is not comparable, for example, to the narrative situation so common in stories of chivalric adventures in which a messenger appears during the celebration of a hard-fought victory bringing a disastrous news that reignites the conflict. The interwoven plots highlight that the double process of loss and recuperation of honor forms part of one and only one heroic story that will only reach its culmination when he who was on the quest for honor throughout the entire story becomes the very source of honor for an entire people and their descendants (“a todos alcança ondra por el que en buen ora naçió”, v. 3725). The way to ensure such an understanding is precisely by specifying this complex transition in a different cantar that is preceded by the narration of the main test which changes the hero’s status and justifies the new derivative of the heroic adventure. This is, as I understand it, the explanation for the 28 Boix Jovaní, El “Cantar de Mio Cid”: adscripción genérica, p. 153. 290 Funes apparent incongruity that exists between the binary storyline and the ternary enunciation of the epic poem. 5 Concluding Remarks As a way of closing, the only thing left to say is that the conclusions of my analysis regarding the poem’s structure as it relates to its unity are quite obvious: regardless of the nature of earlier materials with which the poet worked (an already well-developed oral epic song; a story or group of stories based on oral history; stories or data taken from different kinds of written sources), it is evident that the extant poem is the fruit of a single creative effort by a learned poet. At the same time, it seems necessary to me to call attention to the following observation: the presence of patterns of narrative organization deriving from traditional storytelling in the poem, the relevance of what I call episodic logic in the sequential syntax and characterization of protagonists, the adoption of popular forms of poetic enunciation (tiradas of irregular length comprised of anisosyllabic assonated verses), all these elements suggest that the text arose from the confluence of both oral and written discursive practices.29 The author also is a participant in that confluence, since he was a learned man evidently attracted to popular culture, who, beyond his formal education in the high culture of the time, had training in oral and minstrelesque forms of composing and performing. This is what the poem indicates; he must have possessed a profound knowledge of, and a great capacity for, imitating the internal logic of that kind of verbal art. In addition to the written composition and the mastery with which the poet interweaves the storylines, his formal education is undoubtedly manifested in other aspects and details of the poem. However, it is necessary to insist on the minstrel’s imprint on the work, for it is from that world that derives the poem’s fundamental constructive principles. That was his choice, that was the aesthetic program of this learned poet enamored with popular art when it came to poeticizing the deeds of the greatest Castilian hero. 29 For more on these matters, see Matthew Bailey’s chapter in this volume. Episodic Logic and the Structure of the Poema de mio Cid 291 Works Cited Boix Jovaní, Alfonso, “Rodrigo Díaz, de señor de la guerra a señor de Valencia”, Olivar 10 (2007), 185-92. Boix Jovaní, Alfonso, El “Cantar de Mio Cid”: adscripción genérica y estructura tripartita, Vigo: Editorial Academia del Hispanismo, 2012. Bowra, Cecil M., Heroic Poetry, London: MacMillan, 1952. Damas-Hinard, Jean, ed., Poème du Cid. Texte espagnol accompagné d’une traduction française, Paris: Imprimerie Impériale, 1858. Deyermond, Alan, “Structural and Stylistic Patterns in the Cantar de Mio Cid”, in Medieval Studies in Honor of Robert White Linker, Madrid: Castalia, 1973, pp. 55-71. Deyermond, Alan, El “Cantar de Mio Cid” y la épica española, Barcelona: Sirmio, 1987. Deyermond, Alan, “La estructura del Cantar de Mio Cid, comparada con la de otros poemas épicos medievales”, in C. Hernández Alonso (ed.), Actas del Congreso Internacional El Cid, poema e historia (12-16 de julio 1999), Burgos: Ayuntamiento de Burgos, 2000, pp. 25-39. Garci-Gómez, Miguel, ed., Cantar de mio Cid, Madrid: Cupsa, 1977. Greimas, Algirdas J., “Eléments pour une théorie de l’interprétation du récit mythique”, Communications 8 (1966), 29-52. Hart, Thomas, “Characterization and Plot Structure in the Poema de Mio Cid”, in Alan Deyermond (ed.), Mio Cid Studies, London: Tamesis, 1977, pp. 63-72. Horrent, Jules, ed., Cantar de Mio Cid = Chanson de Mon Cid, 2 vols., Gante: StoryScientia, 1982. Johnston, Robert M., “The Function of Laisse Divisions in the Poema de Mio Cid”, Journal of Hispanic Philology 8 (1984), 185-208. Justel Vicente, Pablo, “La carga de choque en la épica francesa y castellana”, Revista de Poética Medieval 25 (2011), 175-98. Kantor, Sofía, “Estructura narrativa del Cantar de Mio Cid”, Anuario de Letras 22 (1984), 79-110. Lévi-Strauss, Claude, Mythologiques I. Le cru et le cuit, Paris: Plon, 1964. Lidforss, Eduardo, ed., Los cantares de myo Cid, 2 vols., Lund: E. Malmströn, 1895. Martin, Georges, ed. and trans., Chanson de Mon Cid. Cantar de Mio Cid. Paris: Aubier, 1996. Menéndez Pidal, Ramón, ed., Cantar de mio Cid. Texto, gramática, vocabulario, 3 vols., Madrid: Bailly-Baillière, 1908-11. Michael, Ian, ed., The Poem of the Cid, Manchester: University Press, 1975. Montaner, Alberto, “El Cid: mito y símbolo”, Boletín del Museo e Instituto “Camón Aznar” 27 (1987), 121-340. Montaner, Alberto, “Un canto de frontera (geopolítica y geopoética del Cantar de mio Cid)”, Ínsula 731 (2007), 8-11. 292 Funes Montaner, Alberto, ed., Cantar de mio Cid, Madrid-Barcelona: Real Academia EspañolaGalaxia Gutenberg, 2011. Orduna, Germán, “El ‘Cantar de las Bodas’: las técnicas de estructura y la intervención de los dos juglares en el Poema de Mio Cid”, in Studia Hispanica in honorem R. Lapesa, vol. 2, Madrid: Gredos, 1974, pp. 411-31. Pattison, D. G., “How Many Cantares Are There in the Poema de Mio Cid?”, Modern Language Review 88 (1993), 337-42. Pavlović, Milija, “The Three Aspects of Honour in the Poema de mio Cid”, in David G. Pattison (ed.), Textos épicos castellanos: problemas de edición y crítica, London: Department of Hispanic Studies, Queen Mary and Westfield College, 2000, pp. 99-116. Soler Bistué, Maximiliano, “Historia y ficción en el Poema de Mio Cid. Hacia un concepto de tiempo en la épica española”, Olivar 10 (2007), 193-202. Webber, Ruth House, “Narrative Organization of the Cantar de Mio Cid”, Olifant 1.2 (1973), 21-34. Webber, Ruth House, “Towards the Morphology of the Romance Epic”, in Hans-Eric Keller (ed.), Romance Epic. Essays on a Medieval Literary Genre, Kalamazoo: Western Michigan University-Medieval Institute, 1987, pp. 1-9. Webber, Ruth House, “The Spanish Epic in the Context of the Medieval European Epic”, in Studia in Honorem Prof. M. de Riquer, vol. 4, Barcelona: Quaderns Cremà, 1991, pp. 333-44. West, Geoffrey, “The Cid and Alfonso VI Re-visited: Characterization in the Poema de mio Cid”, in Brian Powell, Dorothy S. Severin, and Geoffrey West (eds.), “Al que en buen hora naçio”: Essays on the Spanish Epic and Ballad in Honour of Colin Smith, Liverpool: Liverpool University Press-Modern Humanities Research Association, 1996, pp. 161-69. Episodic Logic and the Structure of the Poema de mio Cid 293 Figure 9.1 The exile rout ( from Vivar to Valencia) and the affront rout ( from Valencia to Corpes), according to the Poema de mio Cid. © Dani Guixà Couderc & Alberto Montaner. 294 Funes Episodic Logic and the Structure of the Poema de mio Cid Part 4 Historical Aspects ∵ 295 296 Funes The Historical Context of the Poema de mio Cid 297 Chapter 10 The Historical Context of the Poema de mio Cid Simon Barton As the present volume amply bears witness, the Poema de mio Cid is hedged about on all sides with doubts and uncertainties. The fundamental questions of how, when, where, and by whom the poem was composed–to name only a few of the main controversies–have all given rise to extensive scholarly debate and very little unanimity. The question of the historical context in which the Poema was composed presents its own particular challenges. As is well known, Ramón Menéndez Pidal attributed the Poema to juglares active during the reign of Alfonso VII of León-Castile (1126-57), and to be more precise to sometime between 1140 (the date of the betrothal of Sancho III of Castile and Blanca of Navarre, great-granddaughter of Rodrigo Díaz, the Cid) and the emperor’s death in 1157.1 Menéndez Pidal regarded the poem as a precious source for the career of the historical Rodrigo Díaz (c.1043-99) and believed that it relayed numerous essential truths about his life: in particular, his staunch loyalty to his liege lord King Alfonso VI of León-Castile (1065-1109), despite the long period of time he spent in exile from Castile; his part in propelling Castile to hegemonic status at the expense of León; and his starring role as a champion of a national project of Reconquista.2 The Cid was nothing less than the archetypal Spaniard, whose heroic conduct encapsulated the essential spirit of the Hispanic nation.3 Not only did Menéndez Pidal regard the Poema as a privileged witness to the remarkable life of the Cid, but he also saw key episodes in its narrative, such as “la afrenta de Corpes”, when the Cid’s daughters were assaulted by the Infantes de Carrión and left for dead, as events thoroughly grounded in fact. While Menéndez Pidal’s position has had its fair share of supporters in the past, most scholars today would concur that the Poema is a heady mixture of fact and fiction.4 Its historical framework may be broadly recognisable–insofar as the Cid did exist, he was exiled by Alfonso VI, he did defeat the count of Barcelona, and he did conquer Valencia in the course of his remarkable career– 1 2 3 4 Cantar de mio Cid, Menéndez Pidal (ed.), I, pp. 21-28. These ideas are explored extensively in Menéndez Pidal, La España del Cid. García Isasti, La España metafísica, p. 117. None the less, there are clear Pidalian echoes in Martínez Díez, El Cid histórico. © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004363755_012 298 Barton and many of the characters are historically attested, but for the most part artistic licence takes precedence over historical accuracy.5 The period that the Cid spent in the military service of al-Mu’tamīn of the Muslim taifa kingdom of Zaragoza between 1081 and 1086 is carefully airbrushed out of the picture; the two separate exiles recorded by the Cid’s biographer in the Historia Roderici – in 1081 and 1088-89 – are compressed into one; and the names the poet ascribed to the Cid’s daughters are incorrect, to list only a few of the most glaring discrepancies.6 Moreover, the fiercely independent Rodrigo Díaz, who was presented in a charter he issued in 1098 as “the most invincible prince Rodrigo the Campeador […] the enlarger of the Christian faith”, who six years earlier had subjected the Rioja to a devastating attack in response to Alfonso VI’s attempted conquest of Valencia, and who may even have harboured ambitions to found a royal dynasty of his own, has seemingly little in common with the hyper-loyal Cid of the Poema.7 The majority view now – based on a wide range of legal, linguistic, and other evidence – is that the Poema was composed during the latter part of the reign of Alfonso VIII of Castile (1158-1214), if not necessarily in 1207, as the famous colophon to the poem declares.8 Accordingly, the Poema can be said to provide us with a window into the attitudes and mores of late 12th-century Castilian society; it is most certainly not a faithful portrait of the world in which the historical Rodrigo Díaz operated. Attempts to set the Poema in its historical context have seen it portrayed variously as a piece of anti-Leonese propaganda, an anti-aristocratic diatribe, a “recruitingposter” designed to inspire the fighting men of Castile to redouble their military efforts against the Muslim south, and a celebration of the values of frontier society, as well as of the importance of the king-vassal relationship. In this chapter, these diverse critical viewpoints, and the broader historical context of the Poema, will be subjected to scrutiny. 5 Montaner Frutos, “Historicidad medieval y protomoderna: lo auténtico sobre lo verídico” and “Épica, historia, historificación”. 6 See also, Duggan, The “Cantar de mio Cid”, pp. 58-61. For the Historia Roderici, see Historia Roderici, Falque Rey (ed.); translation by Barton and Fletcher, The World of El Cid, pp. 90-147. See further the collected papers in La “Chronica Adefonsi Imperatoris” y la “Historia Roderici”. 7 For the charter, see Documentos de los Archivos Catedralicio y Diocesano de Salamanca, Martín Martín et al. (eds.), pp. 79-81. On the historical context of the document, including the Cid’s possible dynastic ambitions, see Martin, “Le premier témoignage chrétien”; Montaner Frutos, “Rodrigo el Campeador como princeps”; Barton, “El Cid, Cluny and the Spanish Reconquista”. For the attack on the Rioja, see Historia Roderici, pp. 82-83. 8 For an overview of the debate, see the chapter by Irene Zaderenko in this volume. The Historical Context of the Poema de mio Cid 1 299 Castile and León: The Legacy of Partition When Alfonso VII of León-Castile died on 21 August 1157 his sprawling imperium was divided into two. His eldest son, Sancho III (1157-58), inherited the throne of Castile and Toledo, while Fernando II (1157-88) was crowned king of León and Galicia. According to Archbishop Rodrigo Jiménez of Toledo, the frontier between their two realms ran south from the Cantabrian coast – via Sahagún and Medina del Campo (among other places) – as far as Ávila, and thence along the road that led towards Mérida.9 Such a division was entirely in accordance with customary practice and had been planned for the best part of a decade beforehand, although later chroniclers, writing with the benefit of hindsight, came to regard the partition as an act of the upmost folly.10 On 31 August 1158 Alfonso VII’s carefully planned dynastic arrangements unravelled when Sancho followed his father to the grave, leaving his infant son, Alfonso VIII (1158-1214), not yet three years old, as his successor.11 The ensuing regency, which lasted until 1169, was marked by a protracted struggle for ascendancy between rival Castilian aristocratic houses – the Laras and the Castros – who vied with one another to secure custody of the child king. At the same time, Castile’s Christian neighbours León and Navarre did not hesitate to fish in these troubled waters and even to profit territorially from them. For example, in around 1159-60 Sancho VI of Navarre captured Logroño and a handful of other towns on the frontier with Castile.12 Meanwhile, in 1162 Fernando II brought Segovia and Toledo under his authority and was formally recognised as Alfonso’s tutor, but his attempts to take the boy king into his charge were thwarted.13 That Castile did not go under at this time was thanks in part to the efforts of the local nobility – and in particular to Count Manrique and Nuño Pérez de Lara – who led the defence of the realm against León, but also to the Castilian clergy.14 At the Synod of Segovia in March 1166 the assembled clerics sought to galvanise support for Alfonso VIII by threatening to excommunicate those 9 10 11 12 13 14 Rodrigo Jiménez, Historia de rebus Hispanie, Fernández Valverde (ed.), p. 229. Rodrigo Jiménez, Historia de rebus Hispanie, p. 229; Chronica latina regum Castellae, Charlo Brea (ed.), p. 41. The pioneering work on the reign of Alfonso VIII was González, El Reino de Castilla. This may be supplemented by Martínez Díez, Alfonso VIII; Estepa Díez, Álvarez Borge and Santamarta Luengos, Poder real y sociedad. See also Nuño González (ed.), Seminario, Alfonso VIII y su época. González, El Reino de Castilla, I, pp. 788-89. Rodrigo Jiménez, Historia de rebus Hispanie, pp. 238-39. On the Lara brothers, see Doubleday, The Lara family, pp. 28-43. 300 Barton who failed to do homage to him for their fiefs, to defend the kingdom against invaders, or who continued to wage war.15 The clerics further declared that anyone who took up arms on behalf of the king would enjoy remission of sins as if he had undertaken a crusade to Jerusalem. The recovery of Toledo from the hands of Fernando Rodríguez de Castro, who held the city on behalf of Fernando II, only a few months later set a seal on these efforts to stem the Leonese advance. Alfonso VIII attained his majority in November 1169 and began to rule in his own right as Dei gratia Toleti, Castelle et Extremature rex et dominus.16 The rest of his long reign played out along two principal geopolitical axes. The first of these, running west to east was the protracted territorial dispute over Castile’s borders with her neighbours León and Navarre, during the course of which regular outbreaks of cross-border warfare – notably in 1172, 1173, 1178, 1181, 1188, 1196, 1197, and 1199 – were punctuated by frenetic, but mostly unsuccessful attempts to achieve a durable diplomatic solution.17 In 1170, in an effort to bolster Castile’s position vis-à-vis its rivals, Alfonso married Eleanor of Aquitaine, the ten-year-old daughter of Henry II of England, and received Gascony by way of dowry. Although this particular territorial acquisition was to prove something of a millstone around Alfonso’s neck and ultimately led him to renounce his claim in 1205-06, Alfonso used the English alliance to exert pressure on Navarre and recover his territories in the Basque regions of Álava and Guipúzcoa.18 In 1177, he even enlisted the help of Henry II to arbitrate in the long-running territorial quarrel, which later led the Castilians and Navarrese to agree a truce.19 The English alliance was followed by a treaty of friendship with Alfonso II of Aragon (1164-96) at Zaragoza in July 1170, which marked the beginning of a long-term collaboration between the two and which would culminate in their joint conquest of Cuenca seven years later.20 For the next two decades, however, cross-border tensions between the Leonese, Castilians, and Navarrese would continue to simmer. In 1179, Castilian-Navarrese tensions were temporarily defused by the treaty of Nájera-Logroño.21 A further treaty delimiting the frontier with León was brokered at Medina de Ríoseco in 1181, but trust soon 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 Linehan, “The Synod of Segovia (1166)”. González, El Reino de Castilla, II, pp. 211-13. For an overview, see González, El Reino de Castilla, I, pp. 685ff. Linehan, Spain, 1157-1300, p. 32. González, El Reino de Castilla, I, pp. 802-11, and II, pp. 456-61; Luis Corral, “Alfonso VIII of Castile’s judicial process”. González, El Reino de Castilla, II, pp. 239-42. González, El Reino de Castilla, II, pp. 532-37. The Historical Context of the Poema de mio Cid 301 broke down again and a new agreement had to be brokered at the villages of Fresno and Lavandera two years later.22 On the face of things, the death of Fernando II in 1188 offered the opportunity for a new beginning. However, Leonese-Castilian relations hit rock bottom when Alfonso VIII led fresh attacks into the Tierra de Campos and captured Coyanza (modern Valencia de Don Juan) near the city of León itself. Moreover, he forced Alfonso IX (1188-1230) to come to terms and at a meeting of the Castilian curia at Carrión in June 1188, he knighted his cousin and required him to kiss his hand in a sign of vassalage.23 This naked assertion of Castilian power not only deepened Leonese hostility towards Castile, but it also caused a major realignment of forces in the north of the Peninsula. In 1191, by the Pact of Huesca, Aragon abandoned its long-term policy of friendship towards Castile and entered into a triple alliance with León and Portugal against Alfonso VIII.24 Three years later, the papal legate Cardinal Gregory de Sant’ Angelo – anxious to bring an end to Christian infighting so that a common crusading front could be presented against the Almohad threat to the south – brokered a new peace deal between Castile and León at Tordehumos. It was agreed that if Alfonso IX died without a son his kingdom would revert to Castile; in return Alfonso VIII undertook to return the various Leonese strongpoints that he had conquered.25 However, the arrival in the Peninsula of an Almohad army led by the caliph Abū Yūsuf Ya‘qūb al-Manṣūr in the summer of 1195 was to change everything. Alfonso VIII raced to confront him, “like a lion roaring and rampaging before his prey”, as one chronicler put it, only to suffer a shattering defeat at Alarcos near Calatrava on 19 July.26 Alfonso II of Aragon vainly tried to rally a coalition against the Almohads, but realpolitik proved more powerful than religious solidarity or crusading fervour. Alfonso IX of León and the newlycrowned Sancho VII of Navarre (1194-1234), recognising that the defeat of the Castilians presented an unprecedented opportunity to settle their long-running border disputes with Castile in their favour, entered into an alliance with the Almohads. In 1196 and 1197, Castile was subjected to a co-ordinated assault by its enemies, which according to Bishop Juan of Osma “seemed to have conspired for the ruination of the king of Castile”.27 However, Castile survived, 22 23 24 25 26 27 González, El Reino de Castilla, II, pp. 614-23, 701-08. Chronica latina regum Castellae, p. 44; Rodrigo Jiménez, Historia de rebus Hispanie, pp. 246-47. González, Alfonso IX, II, pp. 70-71. González, Alfonso IX, II, pp. 116-19; González, El Reino de Castilla, III, pp. 105-08. Chronica Latina regum Castellae, pp. 44-47; trans. O’Callaghan, The Latin Chronicle, p. 25. See further below n. 64. Chronica Latina regum Castellae, p. 48; O’Callaghan (trans.), The Latin Chronicle, p. 29. 302 Barton helped by reinforcements from the newly-crowned Peter II of Aragon (11961213), whose troops twice attacked León, and the decisive intervention of Pope Celestine III, who threatened Alfonso IX with excommunication and promised that anyone who waged war on the Leonese king would enjoy the same remission of sins as crusaders to the Holy Land did.28 In 1197, Leonese-Castilian tensions seemed to have been defused when Alfonso IX married Alfonso VIII’s daughter Berenguela. Pope Innocent III denounced the alliance as incestuous and the couple were forced to separate in 1204, but not before Berenguela had borne the king four children. The latter included the future Fernando III (121752), who by the Treaty of Cabreros in 1206 was declared heir to the Leonese throne. It was Fernando who was ultimately to reunite the realms of León and Castile in 1230, on the death of Alfonso IX.29 As for Alfonso VIII, by the time he passed away on 6 October 1214, the king had cemented his position as the preeminent ruler in Christian Iberia and his passing was widely mourned. For Bishop Juan of Osma: He was the flower of the kingdom, the adornment of the world, conspicuous for every probity of morals, just, prudent, brave, generous; in no way had he stained his glory […] For as long as this world will last, Castile has reason for perpetual sorrow, losing at one and the same time such a great lord and king and such a great man and such a very renowned vassal […] All the glory of Castile was suddenly changed as in the blink of an eye.30 A number of scholars have argued that the Poema de mio Cid was composed in this febrile atmosphere of competitive dynastic politics which convulsed the northern kingdoms in the decades after 1157, and indeed drew inspiration from it. In 1980, with striking synchronicity, no fewer than three new hypotheses attempted to establish the exact circumstances that led to the composition of the poem. First, Antonio Ubieto Arteta speculated that the anti-Leonese attitudes that he and others had detected in the Poema – exemplified by the wholly negative portrayal of the Infantes de Carrión and their allies – was related to the events of those turbulent years. He further ventured that the poet might have been an Aragonese soldier, who had participated in the war in the Tierra de Campos region in 1196-97.31 For Colin Smith, meanwhile, the hostility of the 28 29 30 31 Fita, “Bulas históricas”, 423-24; O’Callaghan, Reconquest and Crusade, pp. 62-63. González, Alfonso IX, II, pp. 284-91; González, El Reino de Castilla, III, pp. 365-74. On the prominent part played by Berenguela in these events, see Bianchini, The Queen’s Hand. Chronica Latina regum Castellae, p. 68; trans. O’Callaghan, The Latin Chronicle, pp. 60-61. Ubieto Arteta, “El sentimiento antileonés”. The Historical Context of the Poema de mio Cid 303 poet towards the town of Carrión stemmed from a long running dispute between the monks of San Pedro de Cardeña near Burgos and those of the Cluniac priory of San Zoilo de Carrión – which had been founded by the powerful Beni-Gómez family, to which the Infantes de Carrión supposedly belonged – who had violently taken over and despoiled Cardeña in 1144.32 For her part, María Eugenia Lacarra suggested that the portrayal of the bitter dispute between El Cid and his family on the one hand and the Infantes de Carrión on the other, which lies at the heart of the Poema, was consciously meant to echo the protracted struggle for power that had taken place between their descendants, the Laras and the Castros, during the minority of Alfonso VIII.33 More to the point, the poem was explicitly intended to act as a work of escarnho e de mal dezir, by attacking the Castro family itself, which since its ejection from Castile by the Laras in 1161 had aligned its interests firmly with those of the crown of León. The principal target of the poet’s ire, Lacarra argued, was probably Pedro Fernández de Castro (d. 1214), who had won notoriety (and papal excommunication) for having fought on the Almohad side against Alfonso VIII of Castile at Alarcos in 1195 and for having instigated the subsequent alliance between the caliph and the monarchs of León and Navarre.34 The fact that earlier, in or before 1165, Count Pedro Manrique de Lara had married a greatgranddaughter of the Cid, the Infanta Sancha Garcés of Navarre, makes it further conceivable that the poet enjoyed the patronage of a member of the Lara clan.35 This suggestion has been supported by Duggan, who names Count Pedro’s sons García and Gonzalo Pérez – the latter lord of Molina, where some of the action of the poem takes place – as other potential patrons of the poet.36 According to Lacarra, the bad blood between the Laras and Castros inspired the poet to create a work of overt propaganda, which through its denunciation of the Beni-Gómez was in turn intended to traduce the reputation of the Castros.37 In fact, Lacarra’s hypothesis could be taken a stage further. It so happens that in 1204 Pedro Fernández was reconciled with Alfonso VIII and had his 32 33 34 35 36 37 Smith, “The choice of the Infantes de Carrión”; cf. Cantar de mio Cid, Montaner Frutos (ed.), pp. 845-51. Lacarra, El Poema de mio Cid, pp. 131-59. Lucas de Tuy, Chronicon Mundi, Falque (ed.), p. 322; González, El Reino de Castilla, I, pp. 330-36, 720; Calderón Medina, Cum magnatibus, pp. 182-86. In 1199 Pedro still owed loyalty to the Almohad caliph: Calderón Medina, Cum magnatibus, pp. 520-21. For the papal excommunication of Pedro, see Fita, “Bulas históricas”, no. 3. Barton, The Aristocracy, pp. 282-83, nn. 3, 30. Duggan, The “Cantar de mio Cid”, pp. 98-99, 107. Lacarra, El Poema de mio Cid, p. 159. 304 Barton properties restored to him, only for relations to break down again three years later.38 The magnate subsequently spent periods in Urgel and León, before again seeking asylum with the Almohads late in 1213, because the peace terms that had been agreed between León and Castile had led to his exclusion from both courts.39 He died in Morocco in 1214, “pursued as his principal enemy” by his former lord, Alfonso VIII, as Bishop Juan of Osma put it.40 Was it mere coincidence, then, that it was in 1207, the very year when the Poema may (or may not!) have been composed, that Pedro Fernández had broken with the Castilian monarch and set off into exile again, winning the enmity of the king and his supporters in the process? It is an intriguing hypothesis, but ultimately unprovable, in common with the other theories outlined above. Just as we cannot assume that the poet’s audience would have grasped all the tangled genealogical connections that existed between the dramatis personae of the poem and the key political players of the present, there is also the problem that Álvar Fáñez, who is portrayed in the Poema as the Cid’s trusted right-hand man, was himself an ancestor of the Castros.41 The chequered relationship between the Cid and his liege lord Alfonso VI is, of course, one of the central themes of the Poema. As has already been noted, the Rodrigo Díaz of history was an avowedly independent figure, who after his conquest of Valencia may even have harboured royal ambitions for his dynasty. In the Poema, by contrast, the Cid is transformed into an uber-loyal vassal, who accepts his unjust exile with resignation and attempts to prove his unswerving loyalty to the king, his señor natural, by showering him with lavish gifts. He restates this loyalty after his conquest of Valencia, culminating in a moving reconciliation between the two by the Tagus, at which the Cid’s subordinate status is underlined: De un dia es legado antes el rey don Alfonso; cuando vieron que vinié el buen Campeador, recebirlo salen con tan grand onor. Don lo ovo a ojo el que en buen ora nasco, a todos los sos estar los mandó, sinon a estos cavalleros que querié de coraçón. Con unos XV a tierra·s’ firio; 38 39 40 41 González, El Reino de Castilla, III, p. 342. Chronica latina de regum Castellae, p.65; Calderón Medina, Cum magnatibus, pp. 185-86. Chronica latina de regum Castellae, p. 68. Smith, The Making, pp. 177-78; Rico, “Del Cantar de mio Cid a la Eneida”, p. 207; Cantar de mio Cid, Montaner Frutos (ed.), pp. 849-51, 853, 863. The Historical Context of the Poema de mio Cid 305 commo lo comidía el que en buen ora nació, los inojos e las manos en tierra los fincó, las yerbas del campo a dientes las tomó. Lorando de los ojos, tanto avié el gozo mayor, así sabe dar omildança a Alfonsso so señor (2013-24) As Richard Fletcher put it, “the independent, insubordinate, arrogant Rodrigo Díaz of history has been wrapped in a cloak of royalist pieties”.42 Yet at the same time, the poet is keen to emphasise the king’s own responsibilities towards his vassal. Just as the Cid’s loyalty is being tested during the first part of the Poema, as he suffers unjust treatment and his daughters suffer humiliation, in the second half it is the monarch who is required to demonstrate his credentials as a lord by bringing the Cid’s complaint against the Infantes de Carrión before his cort. By the end of the poem, Roger Walker has observed, “both the vassal and the lord have been tested and both have passed the test; against great odds each has justified the other’s faith in him”.43 It is not inconceivable that the Poema’s exemplary portrait of the king-vassal dynamic was coloured by Alfonso VIII’s own difficult relationship with the secular magnates of his realm. The fact of the matter was that the readiness of some among the Castilian nobility to seek patronage at the Leonese court was by no means the particular preserve of the Castros. It is striking, rather, that during the course of his long reign Alfonso VIII’s authority was regularly called into question by a series of high-profile political defections by some of his magnates. Even the Laras, the putative patrons of the Poema, were no less culpable in this respect. The marriage of Fernando II to Teresa Fernández de Traba, widow of Count Nuño Pérez de Lara, in 1179, ensured that her family would maintain close ties to the Leonese court for decades to come. Thus, her eldest son, Count Fernando Núñez de Lara (d.1219), can be traced at the court of Alfonso IX between 1191 and 1194, between 1199 and 1200, and for shorter periods thereafter.44 Even more influential was Fernando’s brother, Count Gonzalo Núñez (d. 1225), who is known to have been resident in León in 118586, 1191, 1195-99, 1204-06, 1210-11, and 1219-21, and was awarded a series of 42 43 44 Fletcher, The Quest for El Cid, p. 194. Walker, “The Role of the King”, p. 265. González, El Reino de Castilla, I, pp. 286-88; Barton, The Aristocracy, pp. 239-40; Doubleday, The Lara Family, pp. 46-48, 50-51, 58, 185-87; Calderón Medina, Cum magnatibus, pp. 189, 190, 191, 192, 193, 256-57, 309-10, 322, 327-29, 454, 468. 306 Barton prestigious tenencias (lordships) by the king.45 Meanwhile, their cousin, Count Pedro Manrique de Lara (fl.1157-1202), lord of Molina, Osma, and Toledo, among other places, briefly joined the court of Fernando II in 1185-86 and was also awarded a string of key lordships.46 Another influential Castilian family that particularly impacted on the Leonese political scene was the Riojan Haro clan. The relationship between Fernando II and Urraca López de Haro in around 1181, which was cemented by marriage in 1187, prompted her brothers Rodrigo, García, and Diego to follow in their sister’s footsteps to the Leonese court.47 Diego, lord of Nájera and Vizcaya, later sought exile in Navarre in 1201 and waged war on Alfonso VIII, before switching allegiance to the court of Alfonso IX of León, where he remained until 1206.48 The list could go on.49 The alacrity with which such magnates were willing to relinquish their ties of vassalage to Alfonso VIII and seek alternative sources of patronage speaks volumes for the transient nature of the loyalty that many nobles owed to their king.50 We should recognise the artificiality of the frontier that had been drawn between León and Castile after the death of Alfonso VII in 1157. Even though the magnates had gravitated towards one court or another, depending upon where their chief power base lay, the fact remained that a good many of them had family ties and property interests on either side of the LeoneseCastilian frontier. In this vassal’s market, the magnates of Castile were evidently willing to exploit the longstanding tensions that existed between Castile and León to further their own interests. It was a similar story on León’s western frontier, where several Portuguese nobles pledged allegiance to the Leonese monarchy during the reigns of Fernando II and Alfonso IX.51 By contrast, it is striking that comparatively few Leonese nobles crossed the frontier into Castile, or Portugal for that matter, in search of patronage during the same period. This may have had something to do with the generosity with which 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 González, El Reino de Castilla, I, pp. 290-92; Doubleday, The Lara Family, pp. 45-46, 50, 52, 58, 187-88; Calderón Medina, Cum magnatibus, pp. 188-93, 316-18, 325-29, 332-34, 454, 468, 469, 515. Barton, The Aristocracy, pp. 282-3; Calderón Medina, Cum magnatibus, pp. 281, 500. González, El Reino de Castilla, I, pp. 304-10; Calderón Medina, Cum magnatibus, pp. 19497. Rodrigo Jiménez, Historia de rebus Hispanie, p. 255; González, El Reino de Castilla, I, pp. 303-06; Barton, “Reinventing the Hero”, pp. 73-74. See further Barton, “Reinventing the Hero”, pp. 72-77. Pascua Echegaray, “El papel de la nobleza”, p. 322, and Guerra y pacto, pp. 179-94. On the relationship between the Leonese monarchs and their nobles, see Calderón Medina, Cum magnatibus; Barton, “Alfonso IX y la nobleza”. Calderón Medina, Cum magnatibus, pp. 200-44. The Historical Context of the Poema de mio Cid 307 Fernando II rewarded those who were loyal to him, so much so that when Alfonso IX succeeded him to the throne he found the royal treasury empty.52 To return to the Poema, and in the light of the above, it is not beyond the realms of possibility that rather than target a particular family or individual, the poet’s exemplary presentation of the king-vassal relationship was in part designed to remind the secular elite of its responsibilities to the Castilian crown. This suggestion is reinforced if we bear in mind that the poet might well have been trained in the procedures of Roman public law, which privileged the supreme authority of the monarch over that of the hereditary nobility as a means to achieve social harmony.53 A similar drive towards the centralisation of royal power can be seen in many other regions of the Latin West from the late 12th century onwards.54 The legal practices enunciated in the Poema would undoubtedly have resonated with Alfonso VIII, who demonstrated his own clear commitment towards public law in the municipal fueros that he issued and in territorial codes such as the Ordenamiento de Nájera (1185).55 Thus, in the prologue to the Forum Conche, or Fuero of Cuenca, issued c.1190, Alfonso served clear notice of his priorities as ruler and lawgiver: I, Alfonso […] the guide of those who take pride in the Hispanic kingdoms, codified the summation of judicial institutions in behalf of safeguarding peace and the rights of justice between clergy and laity, between townsmen and peasants, among the needy and the poor […] Happy is that marriage certainly when Law and Justice join in uniform alliance, so that when the Law instructs that one should be cleared, he is cleared by the Law, and that which it determines should be condemned, is condemned by Justice, which sufficiently favours definition by both. Thus Law is that which permits the honest and prohibits the opposite; Justice, on the other hand, is the virtue that concedes each one his rights, punishes the culprit, and acquits the innocent.56 Such sentiments are amply echoed in the Poema de mio Cid. 52 53 54 55 56 González, Alfonso IX, II, pp. 12-15. On the legal aspects of the Poema, see further the article by Eukene Lacarra in this volume and references therein. León under Alfonso IX was a case in point, see Barton, “Alfonso IX y la nobleza”, pp. 83-87. González, “Sobre las fechas”; Grassotti, “El recuerdo”; Zaderenko, “El procedimiento judicial”. English translation by Powers, The Code of Cuenca, pp. 28-29. 308 Barton The Poema is far from being an anti-noble diatribe, as various authors have contended, but what we do see is a tension between the lesser nobility of the frontier, who the Cid and his supporters are made to represent, and the families of the highest wealth, status and power, the ricos omes, whose interests and outlook are characterised in the poem by the Infantes de Carrión. As Richard Fletcher has noted, “this does not make the Poema de mio Cid a ‘political poem’ in any crude sense of that phrase. However, one can understand how the Castilian ‘establishment’ could approve the figure of the Cid which the poet held out”.57 Such matters of social hierarchy are explored in much greater depth by Georges Martin elsewhere in this volume. 2 A Society Organised for War The second key geopolitical axis that defined and shaped royal policy throughout Alfonso VIII’s reign ran north to south and was related to his attempts to keep Muslim power in the south of the Peninsula in check. The military advance of the Berber Almohads at the very end of Alfonso VII’s life had seen the fall of a series of major strongpoints, which had previously been conquered by the king-emperor, notably Almería, Andújar, Baeza, and Úbeda. During the minority of Alfonso VIII, with Castile convulsed by dynastic war, responsibility for the defence of the southern frontier of Castile fell chiefly to the militias of the municipalities that lay between the Duero and the Tagus valleys, as well as to the recently founded Military Orders of Calatrava (1158) and Santiago (1170), both of which were granted castles, lands, and privileges by the king.58 The decades that followed were characterised by thrust and counter-thrust on either side. The Almohads launched a number of major campaigns against Christian positions, but the frequent need to quell uprisings in the Balearics and Tunisia meant that they were unable to maintain any momentum and territorial gains were limited.59 In 1174, Alfonso VIII sought to strengthen his defences in the upper Tagus valley, granting the castle at Uclés to the Order of Santiago and at Zorita to that of Calatrava.60 Three years later, the king tightened his grip over the region when he and his Aragonese allies captured Cuenca east of Toledo and made the city the centre of his subsequent coloniz- 57 58 59 60 Fletcher, The Quest, p. 195. Ayala Martínez, Las órdenes militares; Forey, “The military orders”. For an overview, see Kennedy, Muslim Spain and Portugal, pp. 216ff. González, El Reino de Castilla, II, pp. 323-24, 329-30. The Historical Context of the Poema de mio Cid 309 ing efforts in the region of La Mancha.61 In a sign of his growing confidence, the Castilian monarch was also beginning to think to the long-term. In 1179, at Cazola, Alfonso VIII and Alfonso II of Aragon swore a treaty of friendship and demarcated their respective spheres of influence in the Peninsula, with Denia, Játiva, and Valencia earmarked as future areas of Aragonese expansion, although their king would no longer be required to owe homage to Castile.62 In 1186, in the western sector towards Cáceres, a new Castilian forward position on the frontier with al-Andalus (Muslim Iberia) was established at Plasencia.63 Alfonso VIII’s relations with the Almohads came to be defined above all by two major pitched battles. The first was the king’s disastrous defeat at Alarcos in 1195, the reverberations of which were heard far to the north of Europe.64 Coming as it did only seven years after the fall of Jerusalem to Saladin, it appeared to contemporaries that the frontiers of Christendom were in danger of being overrun. Meanwhile, the Almohad caliph Ya‘qūb I (1184-99) kept up the military pressure, over-running Plasencia and Trujillo in 1196, and ravaging far and wide across the Tagus valley the following year. Alfonso VIII gratefully agreed to a truce and renewed it at regular intervals thereafter. A peninsular crusade was hardly a priority, whatever the papacy might have preferred. However, hostilities broke out again in 1210 and Pope Innocent III offered crusading privileges to those who took up arms against the Muslims. When the new caliph Muḥammad al-Nāṣir (1199-1213) captured the headquarters of the Order of Calatrava at Salvatierra the following year it spurred Alfonso VIII into action.65 With further papal encouragement and thanks to an enthusiastic propaganda campaign, a large crusading army assembled at Toledo in May 1212. On 16 July, despite the desertion of the majority of the French arms-bearers who had come south, Alfonso VIII and his Aragonese and Navarrese allies won an overwhelming victory over the Almohads at Las Navas de Tolosa on the southern slopes of the Sierra Morena.66 Historians today tend to downplay the long-term strategic significance of Las Navas, but for contemporaries the 61 62 63 64 65 66 Rodrigo Jiménez, Historia de rebus Hispanie, pp. 248-49; Chronica latina regum Castellae, p. 42. Alfonso II Rey de Aragón, Sánchez Casabón (ed.), pp. 376-80. González, El Reino de Castilla, I, pp. 942-43. Linehan, Spain, 1157-1300, p. 40. On the Alarcos campaign, see further Huici Miranda, Las grandes batallas, pp. 137-216; Izquierdo Benito and Ruiz Gómez (eds.), Alarcos, 1195. Rodrigo Jiménez, Historia de rebus Hispanie, p. 257. On the campaign of Las Navas, see Huici Miranda, Las grandes batallas, pp. 219-327; Vara Thorbeck, El lunes de las Navas; García Fitz, Las Navas de Tolosa; Alvira Cabrer, Las Navas de Tolosa, 1212. 310 Barton victory was an unparalleled achievement, vindicating Alfonso’s claim to be the “defender of Christendom” and winning him plaudits across Europe.67 One might expect the Poema de mio Cid to reflect the upsurge of crusading enthusiasm that gradually took root in the Peninsula during the course of the 12th century, but in truth it does so only to a limited degree.68 The Cid is certainly portrayed as a good Christian, who demonstrates his piety by making gifts to the abbey of San Pedro de Cardeña and the cathedral of Burgos, by installing the Frenchman Jerónimo as bishop in Valencia, and by taking the fight to the infidel. For his part, the bishop is depicted pardoning the Castilians’ sins before they head into battle: A los mediados gallos, antes de la mañana, el obispo don Jherónimo la missa les cantava; la missa dicha, grant sultura les dava: – El que aquí muriere lidiando de cara, préndol’ yo los pecados e Dios le abrá el alma. (1701-05) However, there is no indication that the author believed that through the Cid’s military efforts against the Muslims a new “Spanish way” to Jerusalem was being opened up, as some Iberian crusaders of the period most assuredly did.69 Instead, the values that emerge most strongly in the poem in the context of Christian-Muslim conflict are those of the Castilian frontier with al-Andalus. During the century and a half that had elapsed between the accession of Alfonso VI and the death of Alfonso VIII, the Leonese-Castilian realms had experienced an unprecedented period of territorial expansion into the region that lay between the Duero and Tagus valleys. Successive monarchs, mindful that their hold on these territories was by no means secure, put in train a legal framework – which included tax exemptions and immunity from prosecution for criminals on the run in some cases – with which to encourage settlers to take up residence on the southern frontier. When Alfonso VII granted a charter of liberties to the settlers of Oreja near Toledo in 1139, for example, he candidly declared that he did so “in order to prevent the Moors from retaking it”.70 67 68 69 70 See, for example, García Fitz, “Was Las Navas a decisive battle?”; Linehan, History and the historians, pp. 292-95. See the discussion in Cantar de mio Cid, Montaner Frutos (ed.), pp. 810-11. Cf. Riva, “‘Vuestra vertud’”. On the Iberian crusading movement more broadly, see O’Callaghan, Reconquest and Crusade. Purkis, Crusading Spirituality, pp. 129-37. Martín Rodríguez, Orígenes, pp. 178-80. The Historical Context of the Poema de mio Cid 311 Collections of customary law (fueros) – like the extensive and emblematic code which Alfonso VIII granted to the settlers of Cuenca, and which was later adopted, either partially or wholly, by dozens of other municipalities across the centre of the Peninsula – demonstrate the primacy of warfare to the life and economy of such frontier settlements.71 The law-codes are replete with regulations concerning military service, the organisation of both offensive and defensive operations, the compensation to be paid to those who were wounded on campaign, the procedure to be followed when sharing out plunder, and so on. Cuenca and other strategically-situated fortified towns along the frontier, like Sepúlveda (founded 1076), Ávila (1087), and Segovia (c.1088), were designed to act as strategic military bases and were dominated by hardy groups of warrior-shepherds, who when they were not caring for their livestock were expected to defend the frontier and conduct raids deep into Muslim territory in search of plunder.72 They might even take part in the campaigns of conquest that were periodically launched against al-Andalus by the king or one of his magnates. This was the quasi-noble military class known as the caballeros villanos, whose privileged status was determined by their possession of a horse and the accoutrements of war.73 It is no exaggeration to say that for such men the acquisition of plunder through warfare was their very lifeblood, a means to boost their economic and social standing. Like the Cid of the Poema, their loyalty as subjects was towards their “natural lord”, the king, rather than through ties of vassalage to one or other of the territorial magnates.74 The Poema de mio Cid breathes this “frontier spirit” of enterprise, ambition, and resilience.75 Rather than view the Cid’s battles with his Muslim foes through the prism of holy war, the poet consistently echoes the preoccupations of the municipal law-codes, recording in detail the plunder that the Cid captured and distributed among his followers, warning of the severe penalties that would be meted out to deserters, and emphasising the opportunities for 71 72 73 74 75 Fuero de Cuenca, Ureña y Smenjaud (ed.); Powers (trans.), The Code of Cuenca. On the relationship between the Cuenca code and the equally influential Aragonese fuero of Teruel, see García Ulecia, Los factores de diferenciación, pp. 355-452; Barrero García, El Fuero de Teruel, pp. 53-137; Powers, A Society Organized for War, pp. 219-29. Lourie, “A Society Organized for War”; Powers, A Society Organized for War. The classic study is Pescador, “La caballería popular”. Cantar de mio Cid, Montaner Frutos (ed.), pp. 328, 333-34, and 772-77; see also Bautista, “Como a señor natural”. Cantar de mio Cid, Montaner Frutos (ed.), pp. 311-19, 333-40, 343-44, 348-49, 353, 362, 366, 378-79, 682, 695, 765, 810-11, 816-17, 822, 864-65, 997. See also Molho, “El Cantar de Mio Cid”; Ubieto Arteta, “La creación de la frontera”; Montaner Frutos, “Un canto de frontera”. 312 Barton social mobility that success in war brought with it.76 This is exemplified by the case of the Cid himself, who begins the poem as a humble infanzón (a member of the lesser nobility) and ends it as lord of Valencia, whose daughters he marries off to the royal houses of Aragon and Navarre. As the Cid is famously made to pronounce: “qui en un logar mora siempre lo so puede menguar” (v. 948). The ringing declaration that is made in the wake of the conquest of Valencia fittingly sums up the prevailing mood: Grandes son los gozos que van por es logar, quando mio Cid gañó a Valencia e entró en la cibdad. Los que fueron de pie cavalleros se fazen; el oro e la plata ¿quién vos lo podrié contar? Todos eran ricos quantos que allí ha. (1211-15) Colin Smith has described the Poema as a “recruiting-poster” for the struggle against Islam, but that is true only in the sense that it reminded the arms-bearing class of the financial rewards that warfare against Muslims could bring.77 As already noted, there is only a limited connection with the broader ideological concerns of crusade and, tellingly, the only character who is made to articulate strong anti-Islamic feelings is the Frenchman, Bishop Jerónimo: – Oy vos dix la missa de Santa Trinidade. Por esso salí de mi tierra e vinvos buscar, por sabor que avía de algún moro matar. Mi orden e mis manos querríalas ondrar e a estas feridas yo quiero ir delant. (2370-74) For the most part, however, the poem reflects the essential pragmatism that often characterised Christian dealings with the Islamic world at this time. Although in the 1130s and 1140s, at the height of Christian-Almoravid conflict, military victory had sometimes been followed by the mass slaughter of the defeated population, this was by no means standard practice.78 The author of the Poema conveys what Israel Burshatin has called a “dichotomous vision” of the Islamic world, in which Muslims tended to be portrayed as dehumanized 76 77 78 Guglielmi, “Cambio y movilidad social”; Lacarra, El Poema de mio Cid, pp. 116-17, 161-62, 202-03. Smith, The Making, p. 97. See, for example, Chronica Adefonsi Imperatoris, Maya Sánchez (ed.), pp. 208, 213, and 222. The Historical Context of the Poema de mio Cid 313 enemies–particularly the Berber Almoravids–or as hyper-noble friends.79 Thus, Avengalvón, the Muslim ruler of Molina and a steadfast ally of the Cid, is praised in the poem for his constancy and generosity towards the Campeador, albeit in large part because he was no longer seen to pose a threat to the Christians.80 That same pragmatism is reflected elsewhere in the Poema, where conquered Andalusi Muslims are allowed to remain in submission to their Christian conquerors rather than being sold into slavery or, worse still, facing execution: los moros e las moras vender non los podremos, que los descabecemos nada non ganaremos, cojámoslos de dentro, ca el señorío tenemos, posaremos en sus casas e d’ellos nos serviremos (619-22) Here, once again, crusading zeal is firmly subordinated to the practicalities of government. 3 Conclusion It has been suggested by some scholars that the Poema de mio Cid was commissioned to coincide with a signal event in the life of the court of Alfonso VIII. Duggan, for one, has posited that the poem was performed for the first time in front of the Castilian court at the Cistercian abbey of Santa María de Huerta in April 1199, or in September 1200, at the same place or at nearby Ariza, at the time of a meeting between Alfonso VIII and Pedro II of Aragon.81 Alternatively, I have tentatively suggested elsewhere that it might have been the reconciliation of Alfonso VIII and his former vassal Diego López de Haro after the Treaty of Cabreros in 1206 and the return of the magnate to the Castilian court from exile that provided an appropriate inspiration for the composition of the Poema.82 Another scenario, put forward by Francisco Hernández, sees the Poema being recited and written down by the shadowy Per Abbat at a meeting 79 80 81 82 Israel Burshatin, “The Docile Image”, pp. 269, 271. For another, earlier example of a “good Moor”, see Barton, “Islam and the West”, pp. 171-73. Burshatin, “The Docile Image”, pp. 273-74; Smith, The Making, pp. 101-02. Duggan, The “Cantar de mio Cid”, pp. 84ff. Barton, “Reinventing the Hero”, p. 78, n. 4. On Diego López and his subsequent literary reputation, see Baury, “Los ricohombres y el rey en Castilla”, pp. 60-62, and “Diego López ‘le bon’ et Diego López ‘le mauvais’”. 314 Barton of the Cortes celebrated by Alfonso VIII at Toledo in January 1207.83 According to this interpretation, the poem’s scene of Alfonso VI’s meeting of his Cortes at Toledo, where the Cid’s cause triumphs over that of his enemies, would thus have had a particular resonance. All of these scenarios are plausible enough and others could and doubtless will be advanced in the future. Ultimately, however, we must recognise that any attempt to pinpoint the exact moment in time when the Poema de mio Cid was composed (or indeed the place where it was performed) is doomed to failure. The poem simply does not provide us with sufficient clues to prove definitively the circumstances under which it was produced. One man’s carefully reasoned argument is another’s educated guesswork. Likewise, the idea that the poem was an epic written in code, designed to connect with precise historical circumstances – such as the Castro-Lara enmity – at the turn of the 13th century is difficult to sustain. What is abundantly clear, by contrast, is that the career of the Cid, as it was remembered and reinvented by the Poema, acted as a vehicle through which the author sought to convey to his audience certain key messages and values. Epic poetry aimed to entertain, but it was also a means for authors to articulate their own community’s sense of identity and legitimacy.84 The Poema was the product of a society that had undergone enormous structural change during the previous century and a half. It reflected the concerns of a specific sector of that society – the lesser nobility of the frontier towns – while simultaneously emphasising the need for equilibrium in relations between monarchy and nobility by upholding the rule of law. By looking back to the past and reworking it in the way that he did, the author was seeking to remind his audience of the need to cultivate social harmony in the present. Works Cited Primary Sources Alfonso II Rey de Aragón, Conde de Barcelona y Marqués de Provenza. Documentos (11621196), Ana Isabel Sánchez Casabón (ed.), Zaragoza: Institución “Fernando el Católico”, 1995. Cantar de mio Cid. Texto, gramática y vocabulario, Ramón Menéndez Pida (ed.), 3 vols., 2nd ed., Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1944-46. Cantar de mio Cid, Alberto Montaner (ed.), Barcelona: Real Academia Española, 2011. 83 84 Francisco Hernández, “Las Cortes de Toledo de 1207”, esp. p. 223. Duggan, “Medieval epic as popular historiography”, p. 311. The Historical Context of the Poema de mio Cid 315 Chronica Adefonsi Imperatoris, Antonio Maya Sánchez (ed.), in Chronica Hispana saeculi XII. Pars I (Corpus Christianorum: Continuatio Mediaeualis, 71), Turnhout: Brepols, 1990, pp. 109-248. Chronica latina regum Castellae, Luis Charlo Brea (ed.), in Chronica Hispana saeculi XIII, (Corpus Christianorum: Continuatio Mediaeualis 73), Turnhout: Brepols, 1997, pp. 7-118. The Code of Cuenca: Municipal Law on the Twelfth-Century Castilian Frontier, James F. Powers (trans.), Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2000. Documentos de los archivos catedralicio y diocesano de Salamanca (siglos XII-XIII), José Luis Martín Martín et al. (eds.), Salamanca: Universidad de Salamanca, 1977. Fuero de Cuenca ( formas primordial y sistemática: texto latino, texto castellano y adaptación del Fuero de Iznatoraf ), Rafael de Ureña y Smenjaud (ed.), Madrid: Tipografía de Archivos, 1935. Historia Roderici, Simon Barton and Richard Fletcher (trans.), The World of El Cid: Chronicles of the Spanish Reconquest, Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2000, pp. 90-147. Historia Roderici vel Gesta Roderici Campidocti, Emma Falque Rey (ed.), in Chronica Hispana saeculi XII, (Corpus Christianorum: Continuatio Mediaeualis, 71), Turnhout: Brepols, 1990, pp. 1-98. The Latin Chronicle of the Kings of Castile, Joseph O’Callaghan (trans.), Tempe: Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 2002. Lucas de Tuy, Chronicon mundi, Emma Falque (ed.) (Corpus Christianorum: Continuatio Mediaeualis, 74), Turnhout: Brepols, 2003. Rodrigo Jiménez, Historia de rebus Hispanie sive Historia Gothica, Juan Fernández Valverde (ed.) (Corpus Christianorum, Continuatio Mediaeualis 72), Turnhout: Brepols, 1987. Secondary Sources Alvira Cabrer, Martín, Las Navas de Tolosa, 1212: idea, liturgia y memoria de la batalla, Madrid: Sílex Ediciones, 2012. Ayala Martínez, Carlos de, Las órdenes militares hispánicas en la Edad Media (siglos XII-XV), Madrid: Marcial Pons/Latorre Literaria, 2003. Barrero García, Ana María, El Fuero de Teruel: su historia, proceso de formación y reconstrucción crítica de sus fuentes, Madrid: Instituto de Estudios Turolenses, 1979. Barton, Simon, The Aristocracy in Twelfth-Century León and Castile, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997. Barton, Simon, “Reinventing the Hero: The Poetic Portrayal of Rodrigo Díaz, the Cid, in its Political Context”, in D.G. Pattison (ed.), Textos épicos castellanos: problemas de edición y crítica (Papers of the Medieval Hispanic Research Seminar 20), London: 316 Barton Department of Hispanic Studies, Queen Mary and Westfield College, 2000, pp. 6578. Barton, Simon, “Alfonso IX y la nobleza del reino de León”, in Alfonso IX e a súa época. Pro utilitate regni mei”, A Coruña: Ayuntamiento de A Coruña, 2008, pp. 71-87. Barton, Simon, “Islam and the West: A View from Twelfth-Century León”, in Simon Barton and Peter Linehan (eds.), Cross, Crescent and Conversion: Studies on Medieval Spain and Christendom in memory of Richard Fletcher, Leiden: Brill Academic Press, 2008, pp. 153-74. Barton, Simon, “El Cid, Cluny and the Spanish Reconquista”, The English Historical Review 126 (2011), 517-43. Barton, Simon, “Los ricohombres y el rey en Castilla: el linaje Haro (1076-1322)”, Territorio, Sociedad, y Poder: Revista de Estudios Medievales (Universidad de Oviedo) 6 (2011), 53–72. Baury, Ghislain, “Diego López ‘le bon’ et Diego López ‘le mauvais’: comment s’est construite la mémoire d’un magnat du règne d’Alphonse VIII de Castille”, Berceo 144 (2003), 37-92. Bautista, Francisco, “Como a señor natural: interpretaciones políticas del Cantar de Mio Cid”, Olivar 10 (2007), 173-84, URL: <httꝑ://www.memoria.fahce.unlꝑ.edu.ar/ art_revistas/ꝑr.3291/ꝑr.3291.ꝑdf>. Bianchini, Janna, The Queen’s Hand: Power and Authority in the Reign of Berenguela of Castile, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2012. Burshatin, Israel, “The Docile Image: The Moor as a Figure of Force, Subservience, and Nobility in the Poema de mio Cid”, Kentucky Romance Quarterly 31 (1984), 269-80. Calderón Medina, Inés, Cum magnatibus regni mei: la nobleza y la monarquía leonesas durante los reinados de Fernando II y Alfonso IX (1157-1230), Madrid: CSIC, 2011. Doubleday, Simon, The Lara Family: Crown and Nobility in Medieval Spain. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2001. Duggan, Joseph J., “Medieval Epic as Popular Historiography: Appropiation of Historical Knowledge in the Vernacular Epic”, Grundriss der Romanischen Literaturen des Mittelalters 11 (1986), pp. 285-311. Duggan, Joseph J., The “Cantar de Mio Cid”: Poetic Creation in its Economic and Social Contexts, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989. Estepa Díez, Carlos, Ignacio Álvarez Borge, and José María Santamarta Luengos, Poder real y sociedad: estudios sobre el reinado de Alfonso VIII (1158-1214), León: Universidad de León, 2011. Fita, Fidel, “Bulas históricas del Reino de Navarra en los postreros años del siglo XII”, Boletín de la Real Academia de la Historia 26 (1895), 417-59. Fletcher, Richard, The Quest for El Cid, London: Hutchinson, 1989. Forey, Alan J., “The Military Orders and the Spanish Reconquest in the Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries”, Traditio 40 (1984), 197-234. The Historical Context of the Poema de mio Cid 317 García Fitz, Francisco, Las Navas de Tolosa, Barcelona: Ariel, 2005. García Fitz, “Was Las Navas a Decisive Battle?”, Journal of Medieval Iberian Studies 4 (2012), 5-9. García Isasti, Prudencio, La España metafísica. Lectura crítica del pensamiento de Ramón Menéndez Pidal (1891–1936), Bilbao: Real Academia de la Lengua Vasca/Euskaltzaindia, 2004. García Ulecia, Alberto, Los factores de diferenciación entre las personas en los fueros de la Extremadura castellano-aragonesa, Seville: Gráficas del Sur, 1975. González, Julio, Alfonso IX, 2 vols., Madrid: CSIC, 1944. González, Julio, El Reino de Castilla en la época de Alfonso VIII, 3 vols., Madrid: CSIC, 1960. González, Julio, “Sobre las fechas de las Cortes de Nájera”, Cuadernos de Historia de España 61-62 (1977), 357-61. Grassotti, Hilda, “El recuerdo de las Cortes de Nájera”, Cuadernos de Historia de España 70 (1988), 255-72. Guglielmi, Nilda, “Cambio y movilidad social en el Cantar de Mio Cid”, Anales de Historia Antigua y Medieval 12 (1963-65), 43-65. Hernández, Francisco, “Las Cortes de Toledo de 1207”, in Las Cortes de Castilla y León en la Edad Media, Valladolid: Ámbito, 1988, pp. 219-63. Huici Miranda, Ambrosio, Las grandes batallas de la reconquista durante las invasiones africanas, Madrid: CSIC, 1956. Izquierdo Benito, Ricardo, and Francisco Ruiz Gómez (eds.), Alarcos, 1195: Actas del Congreso Internacional Conmemorativo del VII Centenario de la Batalla de Alarcos, Cuenca: Universidad de Castilla-La Mancha, 1996. Kennedy, Hugh, Muslim Spain and Portugal: A Political History of al-Andalus, London: Longman, 1996. Lacarra, María Eugenia, El Poema de mio Cid: realidad histórica e ideología, Madrid: J. Porrúa Turanzas, 1980. La “Chronica Adefonsi Imperatoris” y la “Historia Roderici”: dos crónicas particulares del siglo XII, e-Spania 15 (June 2013), URL: <http://e-spania.revues.org/22140>. Linehan, Peter, “The Synod of Segovia (1166)”, Bulletin of Medieval Canon Law, n.s. 10 (1980), 31-44. Linehan, Peter, History and the Historians of Medieval Spain, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993. Linehan, Peter, Spain, 1157-1300: A Partible Inheritance, Oxford: Blackwell, 2008. Lourie, Elena, “A Society Organized for War: Medieval Spain”, Past and Present 35 (1966), 54-76. Luis Corral, Fernando, “Alfonso VIII of Castile’s Judicial Process at the Court of Henry II of England: An Effective and Valid Arbitration?”, Nottingham Medieval Studies 50 (2006), 22-42. 318 Barton Martin, Georges, “Le premier témoignage chrétien sur la prise de Valence (1098)”, in Flocel Sabaté i Curull (ed.), Balaguer, 1105: cruïlla de civilitzacions, Lleida: Pagès, 2007, pp. 121-33. Martínez Díez, Gonzalo, El Cid histórico, Barcelona: Editorial Planeta, 1999. Martínez Díez, Alfonso VIII, rey de Castilla y Toledo, 1158-1214, 2nd ed., Gijón: Ediciones Trea, 2007. Martín Rodríguez, José Luis, Orígenes de la Orden Militar de Santiago (1170-1195), Barcelona: CSIC, 1974. Menéndez Pidal, Ramón, La España del Cid, 2 vols., 7th ed., Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1969. Molho, Maurice, “El Cantar de Mio Cid poema de fronteras”, in Homenaje a José María Lacarra en su jubilación del profesorado: estudios Medievales, 2 vols., Zaragoza: Anubar, 1977, I, pp. 243-60. Montaner Frutos, Alberto, “Un canto de frontera (geopolítica y geopoética del Cantar de mio Cid)”, Ínsula 737 (November 2007), 8-11. Montaner Frutos, Alberto, “Rodrigo el Campeador como princeps en los siglos XI y XII”, e-Spania 10 (December 2010), URL: <http://e-spania.revues.org/20201>. Montaner Frutos, Alberto, “Historicidad medieval y protomoderna: lo auténtico sobre lo verídico”, e-Spania 19 (October 2014), URL: <http://e-spania.revues.org/24054.>. Montaner Frutos, Alberto, “Épica, historia, historificación”, in Juan-Carlos Conde López (ed.), The Poema de mio Cid and Medieval Castilian Epic: New Scholarship, New Directions (Papers of the Medieval Hispanic Research Seminar; Publications of the Magdalen Iberian Medieval Studies Seminar), London: Department of Hispanic Studies, Queen Mary, University of London, [forthcoming]. Nuño González, Jaime (ed.), Seminario, Alfonso VIII y su época: II Curso de Cultura Medieval, Aguilar de Campóo, 1-6 octubre, 1990, Aguilar de Campóo: Centro de Estudios del Románico, 1992. O’Callaghan, Joseph, Reconquest and Crusade in Medieval Spain, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2003. Pascua Echegaray, Esther, “El papel de la nobleza en las relaciones entre Castilla y León a mediados del s. XII: el caso de Zamora”, Primer Congreso de Historia de Zamora, Zamora: CSIC, 1991, pp. 317-23. Pascua Echegaray, Esther, Guerra y pacto en el siglo XII: la consolidación de un sistema de reinos en Europa Occidental, Madrid: CSIC, 1996. Pescador, Carmela, “La caballería popular en León y Castilla”, Cuadernos de Historia de España 33-4 (1961), 101-238; 35-6 (1962), 56-201; 37-8 (1963), 88-198; 39-40 (1964), 169-260. Powers, James F., A Society Organized for War: The Iberian Municipal Militias in the Central Middle Ages, 1000-1284, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988. Purkis, William, Crusading Spirituality in the Holy Land and Iberia, c.1095-c.1187, Woodbridge: Boydell, 2008. The Historical Context of the Poema de mio Cid 319 Rico, Francisco, “Del Cantar de mio Cid a la Eneida: tradiciones épicas en torno al Poema de Almería”, Boletín de la Real Academia Española 65 (2005), 197-211. Riva, Fernando, “‘Vuestra vertud me vala, Gloriosa, en mi exida’: función del culto mariano e ideología de cruzada en el Poema de mio Cid’”, Lexis 35 (2011), 119-39. Smith, Colin, “The Choice of the Infantes de Carrión as Villains in the Poema de mio Cid”, Journal of Hispanic Philology 4 (1980), 105-18. Smith, Colin, The Making of the Poema de mio Cid, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983. Ubieto Arteta, Antonio, “La creación de la frontera entre Aragón-Navarra y el espíritu fronterizo”, in Homenaje a José María Lacarra en su jubilación del profesorado: estudios medievales, 2 vols. Zaragoza: Anubar, 1977, II, pp. 95-114. Ubieto Arteta, Antonio, “El sentimiento antileonés en el Cantar de mio Cid”, En la España medieval 1 (1980), 557-74. Vara Thorbeck, Carlos, El lunes de las Navas, Jaén: Universidad de Jaén, 1999. Walker, Roger, “The Role of the King and the Poet’s Intentions in the Poema de mio Cid”, in Alan D. Deyermond (ed.), Medieval Hispanic Studies Presented to Rita Hamilton, London: Tamesis, 1976, pp. 257-66. Zaderenko, Irene, “El procedimiento judicial de riepto entre nobles y la fecha de composición de la Historia Roderici y del Poema de Mio Cid”, Revista de Filología Española 78 (1998), 183-93. 320 Barton Figure 10.1 Map of the Iberian Peninsula in 1085, after the conquest of Toledo by King Alfonso VI. © Dani Guixà Couderc & Alberto Montaner. The Historical Context of the Poema de mio Cid Santiago Pamplona León Burgos Zaragoza Toledo Valencia Radajoz Lisbon Murcia Córdoba Sevilla RECONQUERED AREA Granada Before 914 Between 914 and 1080 Between 1080 and 1130 Between 1130 and 1210 Between 1210 and 1250 Between 1250 and 1480 After 1480 30 60 90 km Figure 10.2 Principal stages of the Reconquest. © Dani Guixà Couderc & Alberto Montaner. 321 0 322 Martin Chapter 11 Social Structures and Values in the Poema de mio Cid* Georges Martin Translated by Peter Mahoney Like all literary works, the Poema de mio Cid (PMC, Poema) unknowingly and unintentionally reflects the society in which it was created. It mirrors it inasmuch as it is itself a social product and, therefore, a social form. Yet with respect to the image of society it offers, it is better to speak in terms of representation and even expression, since the social categories that it deals with – economic systems, social structures, ethical values, public models, etc. – are organized toward obtaining a particular meaning and are subordinated to an interpretation of reality. Myriad factors, particularly generic ones, intervene in this process, yet the work’s fundamental orientation is set by the intention of the author or authors. For that reason, an analysis of the sociological content of the Poema cannot be limited to a description or explanation of the social institutions alluded to in the text, but rather, should take into account the dynamic of meaning that polarizes them in a significant way. Similarly, one should be very cautious when accepting what critics know – or presume to know – about the real – historical, extratextual – condition of one character or another, and, without ignoring what has been said, one must be especially attentive to the way characters are portrayed in the Poema. 1 Sociological Outlook Considering the scope and limitations imposed by the epic genre, the PMC offers a rather broad view of the society in which it was composed. The Church – one of the groups constituting the tripartite social model that prevailed on the other side of the Pyrenees1 and fully emerged in Castile by the mid-13th * Poema de mio Cid is the tittle chosen by the editors of this volume. I would prefer Cantar de Mio Cid since “cantar” is the term employed in the poem itself and in 13th-century chronicles for this kind of text (for part of it or for the whole text). The capital in the possessive “Mio” is justified because it forms with the word “Cid” a fixed nominal syntagm used as a name, as we can see not only in the poem but also in contemporary Navarrese chronicles. 1 See Georges Duby’s Les trois ordres, which is still the most authoritative work on this matter. © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004363755_013 Social Structures and Values in the Poema de mio Cid 323 century,2 and whose members were referred to as oratores (in Spanish, “oradores”; in English, the clergy) – is typified by two chief prelates of its hierarchy: the abbot and the bishop. The abbot of San Pedro de Cardeña, Don Sancho, is shown as performing the three principal activities that were embodied in his role and pertained to the mission of abbeys and monasteries: praying (v. 238), celebrating mass (v. 319), and providing refuge to those in need – in our case, the Cid’s wife and daughters cruelly bereft of any protection as a consequence of the hero’s banishment (vv. 255-57). With respect to Don Jerónimo, although his intelligence and knowledge are recognized – “Bien entendido es de letras e mucho acordado” (v. 1290) –, and despite the fact that he is often depicted celebrating mass3 or performing ceremonies according to protocol (vv. 1579-83), he is portrayed chiefly as a “clergyman of the Reconquest” through whom the process of restoring the cathedral,4 a certain spirit of the Crusade,5 and, above all, combative zeal are exalted.6 His characterization is similar to that of literary figures like Turpin; but he is much more similar to historical 12th-century Castilian bishops such as Bernardo de Sedirac, Raimundo de Toledo, Pedro de Palencia, Bernardo de Sigüenza, Gutierre de Segovia, and Juan de Ávila,7 as well as to Rodrigo Jiménez de Rada, the Archbishop of Toledo in the early 13th century.8 The lay aristocracy or group of knights – milites in Latin, “caballeros” in Spanish, and in the aforementioned tripartite model bellatores (“defensores” 2 According to the heading of Title XXI of the second Partida: “Defensores son vno de los tres estados por que dios quiso que se mantuuiesse el mundo, ca bien assi como los que ruegan a dios por el pueblo son dichos oradores e otrosi los que labran la tierra e fazen en ella aquellas cosas por que los omes han de biuir e de mantener se son dichos labradores, otrosi los que han a defender a todos son dichos defensores” (Alfonso X el Sabio, Las siete partidas. Punctuation is mine). 3 See vv. 1702, 2069, 2238-40. 4 “¡Dios, qué alegre era todo christianismo / Que en tierras de Valençia señor avié obispo!” (vv. 1305-06); also see vv. 1297-300 and 1664-69. 5 As per pontifical order for Christians who died during the crusade, Don Jerónimo promises the Cid’s knights the “soltura” (absolution) of their sins: “El obispo do Iherónimo soltura nos dará” (v. 1689); “El obispo don Iherónimo la missa les cantava. / La missa dicha, grant sultura les dava” (vv.1702-03); “¡El que aquí muriere lidiando de cara, / Préndol’ yo los pecados e Dios le abrá el alma!” (vv. 1704-05). 6 “De pie e de cavallo mucho era areziado. / Las provezas de Myo Çid andávalas demandando; / Sospirando el obispo que.s’ viesse con moros en el campo, / ¡Que si.s’ fartás’ lidiando e firiendo con sus manos, / A los días del sieglo non le lorassen christianos!’ (vv. 1291-95); also vv. 1460-61, 1706-11, 1793-98, 2368-91. 7 Many of these figures are mentioned in Carlos de Ayala Martínez, “Alfonso VII y la Cruzada”. 8 For more on the 13th century (although only the reign of Sancho IV is discussed), see José Manuel Nieto Soria, Iglesia y poder real en Castilla. This typology of the warrior bishop continued into the 14th century; see Ana Arranz Guzmán, “Cuando el clérigo va a la guerra”. 324 Martin in Spanish; warriors in English)9 – appears under a number of components in which each one has been established by natural and hierarchical distinctions. In the Poema, the high nobility is represented by the “condes” – that is to say, those noblemen who occupied the highest level of early medieval Castilian society. This social group includes a sovereign count or prince who is not from Castile, the Count of Barcelona (v. 957); close companions – in accordance with the meaning of its Latin etymon, comes – or lay advisors of the king such as Count García Ordóñez (v. 1348) and Counts Fruela and Beltrán (v. 3004); a lineage of magnates (the Counts of Carrión, v. 1376; Count Gonzalo, v. 2268); or a collective social entity wielding considerable local power (the “condes gallizanos”, v. 2926). Within this group, two men stand out who are closely connected to the monarchy for being at the origin of royal dynasties in the Peninsula: Count Anrrich and Count Remond (Enrique and Ramón de Borgoña, vv. 3002-03). The poem says nothing of Enrique, the father of Portugal’s first king, Alfonso Enríquez; however, he does indicate that Ramón “fue padre del buen enperador” (v. 3003) – that is to say, Alfonso VII, grandson of Alfonso VI, the king who plays a central role in the Poema, and grandfather of Alfonso VIII, the monarch under whose reign the PMC was composed. The term that could have expanded the representation of the upper nobility – “ricos omnes”10 – appears only once in the Poema (v. 3546) to designate, very generically and only at the end of the work, members of the royal court who attend the judicial duels. As for the high nobility, the Poema provides only a rather limited picture, one in which social position, power, and birth dominate, but it is silent about the more operative and functional characteristics of this social group. “Ynfançones”11 (“infanzones”) – a term that designated the intermediate social stratum between counts (and “ricos hombres”) and knights12 in the second half of the 13th century and in the 14th century – complete the graduated or hierarchical representation of the nobility in the poem. The same is true 9 10 11 12 Cf. note 2. For this sociological category, see Ramón Menéndez Pidal, Cantar de Mio Cid, vol. 2, pp. 826-29, and Georges Martin, Les Juges de Castille, pp. 364-65. For an overview of Medieval Spanish “nobilities”, consult (with caution) Marie-Claude Gerbet, Les noblesses espagnoles. Menéndez Pidal, Cantar de Mio Cid, vol. 2, pp. 718-20. María del Carmen Carlé published a study dedicated exclusively to this matter, “Infanzones e hidalgos”; however, I must confess my disagreement with some of her conclusions, particularly her “hierarchical” interpretation of the word “fijo dalgo”, a term that is also used in the Poema (see Martin, Les Juges de Castille, pp. 363-64). Several documentary examples are presented in Martin, Les Juges de Castille, pp. 412-13 (n. 177). See also Don Juan Manuel’s Libro de los estados (I, XC), pp. 388-89. Social Structures and Values in the Poema de mio Cid 325 with other Leonese and Castilian texts dating to the 11th, 12th, and early decades of the 13th century.13 King Alfonso’s entourage is frequently described as being comprised exclusively of counts and “infanzones”: “¡Oydme, las escuellas, condes e yfançones!” (v. 2072), “Que allá me vayan cuendes e yfançones” (v. 2964), “que no prendan fuerça de conde ni de yfançón” (v. 3480). Nevertheless, there is a considerable distance – at least according to the Infantes of Carrión – separating the counts and their close relatives from infanzones, a group they treat with marked contempt: “De natura somos de condes de Carrión; / Deviemos casar con fijas de reyes o de enperadores, / Ca non perteneçién fijas de yfançones” (vv. 3296-98). These words are directed at Ruy Díaz, the only protagonist of the entire Poema to whom such a social label is applied. “Cavallero”14 (“caballero” in Spanish; in English, knight) is the most frequently used term in the Poema. It does not have any hierarchical connotation, although it could have, since it does designate the lowest level of the lay aristocracy. Its meaning is strictly functional and, therefore, can be applied to members of the king’s court (v. 2158); to emissaries sent by the Infantes of Navarre and Aragon (v. 3393); to prominent men forming part of the Cid’s retinue (Álvar Fáñez, vv. 671, 1432, 2513; Muño Gustioz, v. 1995; Galín García, v. 444b) – some of whom, according to critics, belonged to powerful families (Álvar Salvadórez,15 v. 444b), although the Poema says nothing about this – ; to a representative of Burgos’ municipal chivalry, Martín Antolínez, a plebeian who rises to become the Cid’s champion in the judicial duels along with Pero Bermúdez and Muño Gustioz (vv. 3476 and 3598); to indiscriminate groups of mounted warriors;16 and, finally, to the very Ruy Díaz (“Las nuevas del cavallero, ¡ya vedes dó legavan!”, v. 1235). Because of its strictly functional meaning, “cavallero” is the only social designation valid on both sides of the ethno-religious line, and it is used to refer to Abengalbón’s men (v. 1483). Without exception, knights are binarialy distinguished from “peones”: “Sos cavalleros y an arribança: / A cada uno d’ellos caen C marchos de plata / E a los peones la 13 14 15 16 For documentary examples, see José María Lacarra, “En torno a la propagación de la voz ‘hidalgo’”, and Carlé, “Infanzones e hidalgos”. Menéndez Pidal, Cantar de Mio Cid, vol. 2, pp. 566-69; Martin, Les Juges de Castille, pp. 36568, and La chevalerie en Castille. See also Rodríguez Velasco’s recent and very interesting studies, El debate sobre la caballería and Ciudadanía. A certain Álvar Salvadórez, brother of Count Gonzalo Salvadórez of the Lara family, was a contemporary of Ruy Díaz. His signature appears on a Cidian diploma – more concretely, the document stipulating the arras promised to Jimena. See Menéndez Pidal, Cantar de Mio Cid, vol. 2, p. 442; Alberto Montaner, Cantar de Mio Cid, pp. 437-38 (complementary note to verse 443), and Margarita Torres Sevilla, Linajes nobiliarios, p. 396. See vv. 234, 291, 312, 474, 512, 597, 616, 670, passim. 326 Martin meatad sin falla” (vv. 512-14); “A cavalleros e a peones fechos los ha ricos” (v. 848). Thus, the meaning of “cavallero” does not differ greatly from “encavalgado” – “¡Dios, qué bien pagó a todos sus vassallos, / A los peones e a los encavalgados!” (vv. 806-07) –, manifesting an implicit social mentality in which peasants are afforded opportunities and the divide due to social status, whether natural or hierarchical, is not insurmountable, as seen in the case of Martín Antolínez and after the conquest of Valencia, when many “peones” are promoted to “cavalleros” (“Los que fueron de pie cavalleros se fazen”, v. 1213). The third major group representing the vast majority of medieval society, the laboratores (labradores in Spanish, laborers in English), hardly appears in the PMC. The existence of working peasants is only attested by one very generic reference and is made to those who work in Moorish lands: “En Castejón todos se levantavan. / Abren las puertas, de fuera salto davan / Por ver sus lavores e todas sus heredades” (vv. 458-60). On the other hand, the presence of city laboratores is more visibly noted without saying much about their role. The new group of “burgueses” (v. 17) – the word “burgés”, which first appeared in the Fuero de Jaca (1063), meant “inhabitant of a burg” – still too recent as a social power at the beginning of the 13th century, must not be confused with the “burgaleses” (“inhabitants of Burgos”, as applied to Martín Antolínez).17 Within this group there are two moneylenders – very likely Jews – named Raquel and Vidas (vv. 89-212 and 1430-38). It should be noted that all members of this group favor the Cid. Despite the fact that the people of Burgos are forbidden to help the Cid as per the king’s written decree (vv. 21-29), they all openly sympathize with him: Burgeses e burguesas por las finiestras son, Plorando de los ojos tanto avyén el dolor; De las sus bocas todos dizían una razón: “¡Dios, qué buen vassalo, sí oviesse buen señor!” (17-20) Although there are traces of anti-Semitism in the episode in which the Campeador deceives Raquel and Vidas in order to obtain a loan,18 the moneylenders ultimately help the Cid by providing him with the funds necessary to 17 18 See vv. 65, 193, 736, 1459, 1500, 1992, 2837, 3066, 3191. See vv. 78-95, 100-01, 123. Social Structures and Values in the Poema de mio Cid 327 finance his troops19 and pay for his wife and daughters’ stay at the safe haven of San Pedro de Cardeña.20 Under sociological markers, the diegesis of the Poema distributes, orders, and polarizes these social actors by opposing and evaluating two social formations that constitute antagonistic models. 2 The Inland Nobility On the one hand, there is the social group formed by the Infantes of Carrión, their relatives, and their allies – that is to say, those who are the Cid’s enemies either from the beginning of the story or as it progresses. This group consists of, or is headed by, representatives of the upper nobility: counts (García Ordóñez, v. 1836; Gonzalo Ansúrez, v. 2441) and sons of counts (Diego and Fernando González, v. 2267-68, and possibly Asur González).21 They should appear, especially the counts, as high-level royal officials charged with the administration of broad territories – and, in effect, García Ordóñez, Count of Nájera (and later of Grañón), governed La Rioja on the king’s behalf.22 The Poema, however, neither mentions nor values their services in such roles. One senses, instead, that both counts and their sons, by “[habiendo] part en la cort” (v. 1938) and enjoying the king’s favor and his trust,23 benefit from their sovereign’s generosity and support. Moreover, they possess their own patrimonial wealth: rural estates (“heredades”) and the rents from which they profit.24 For these men, the value or “preçio” of a person (v. 3300) is bound, first and foremost, to birth and lineage: “la natura”.25 Based on these criteria, they look down on the “ynfançones”; in their opinion, the social divide separating them from infanzones is so vast that the law is not – or should not be – the same for counts and infanzones: 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 See vv. 82-83, 313-14. See vv. 242-60. For a favorable interpretation of Raquel and Vidas’ role, see Georges Martin, “Las arcas de arena”, and Gisela Roitman, “El episodio de Rachel y Vidas”. Critics generally believe that Asur González is the older brother of Diego and Fernando. However, since the rules governing name giving were not as rigorous in the Spanish Middle Ages as it is sometimes claimed, it is also possible that Asur González is their uncle. Menéndez Pidal, Cantar de Mio Cid, vol. 2, pp. 702-07; Montaner, Cantar de Mio Cid, pp. 533-34; Torres Sevilla, Linajes nobiliarios, pp. 104-05. See vv. 1884-88, 1900-02, 2988-89. See vv. 2545, 2605, 2621, 3223, 3715. See vv. 2549, 3275, 3296, 3354. 328 Martin De natura somos de condes de Carrión; Deviemos casar con fijas de reyes o de enperadores, Ca non perteneçién fijas de yfançones. Por que las dexamos derecho fiziemos nós. ¡Más nos preçiamos, sabet, que menos no! (3296-300) This declaration is pronounced by the Infante Fernando, and in a statement alluding to the ill-fated union between the Infantes and the Cid’s daughters, Count García Ordóñez proclaims: Los de Carrión son de natura tal, Non ge las devién querer sus fijas por varraganas, O ¿quién ge las diera por parejas o por veladas? Derecho fizieron por que las han dexadas; ¡Quanto él dize non ge lo preçiamos nada! (3275-79) In practice, “natura” generates solidarity among “parientes” (relatives). Except for the single allusion made to the Cid’s posthumous royal descendants (v. 3724), the term is used only in reference to the Infantes of Carrión and to their ally and protector, Count García Ordóñez.26 The “parientes” are usually described as a generic group without further definition; in those cases in which they are specified, they do not go beyond the Infantes, their older brother, or their father.27 Despite this, however, the “parientes” intervene in conflictive situations either as a deliberative body: Dixo el conde don Garçía: ‘A esto nós fablemos.’ Essora salién aparte yffantes de Carrión Con todos sus parientes e el vando que y son; Apriessa lo yuan trayendo e acuerdan la razón (3160-63) or as an armed force: Dos días atendieron a yfantes de Carrión. Mucho vienen bien adobados de cavallos e de guarnizones, E todos sus parientes con ellos son; Que si los pudiessen apartar a los del Campeador, Que los matassen en campo por desondra de so señor (3537-41) 26 27 Infantes: vv. 2988, 3162, 3539, 3592; García Ordóñez: v. 1860. “Fueron y de su reyno […] / El conde don Garçía con yfantes de Carrión / E Asur Gonçález e Gonçalo Assúrez; / E Diego e Ferrando y son amos a dos” (vv. 3005-09). For Ansur González, see note 21. Social Structures and Values in the Poema de mio Cid 329 In the public sphere, “parientes” find help and support in a more extensive group, the “bando”, which is comprised of “parientes” and their political allies; in the case of the Infantes, their chief ally is Count García Ordóñez. In the Poema, the term “bando” is used exclusively for the Beni-Gómez’s “parientes” and their associates.28 The role assumed by the “bando” is analogous to that of “parientes” – that is to say, it advises: Dixo el conde don Garçía: ‘A esto nós fablemos.’ Essora salién aparte yffantes de Carrión Con todos sus parientes e el vando que y son; Apriessa lo yuan trayendo e acuerdan la razón (3160-63)29 or intimidates: El conde don Garçía con yfantes de Carrión E Asur Gonçález e Gonçalo Assúrez; E Diego e Ferrando y son amos a dos, E con ellos grand bando que aduxieron a la cort; E[n]bayrle cuydan a Myo Çid el Campeador (3007-11) Kinship was a strong and operative structure of the feudal elite; “bandos”30 were at times wide reaching and long-lasting alliances. In order to express the threat posed by the Cid’s enemies, the Poema sometimes emphasizes the breadth and strength of both their “bando” and their kinship.31 We have seen, however, that the clan extension upon which the Beni-Gómez’s power rests is very limited. Equally limited (and fortuitous as well) is the solidarity established upon their integreation into a “bando” of which the only member mentioned is García Ordóñez, whose intervention is restricted to the royal 28 29 30 31 See vv. 3010, 3113, 3136, 3162, and 3577. The Cid uses the word “bando” only once in the sense of “help” or “assistance”: “¡Cavalgad, Mynaya, vós sodes el myo diestro braço; / Oy en este día de vós abré grand bando!” (vv. 753-54). Another example is found earlier in the text: “Hya lo vieron que es a fer los yfantes de Carrión. / Prenden conssejo parientes commo son; / El conde don Garçía en estas nuevas fue, / Enemigo de Mio Çid, que siempre.l’ buscó mal; / Aqueste conssejó los yfantes de Carrión” (vv. 2995-99). The bibliography about this social entity, although extensive, is disjointed. See José Ramón Díaz de Durana’s recent critical synthesis, “Las luchas de bandos”. For the term bando, see the verses cited above (vv. 3009-10); for kinship, in addition to the verses quoted earlier (vv. 3537-41), see also: “Fevos de la otra part los yfantes de Carrión, / Muy bien aconpañados ca muchos parientes son” (vv. 3591-92). 330 Martin court, and whose intrigues and machinations are focused on benefiting only a handful of men. It is clear that the words, deeds, and gestures of those who represent this social group are devoid of any public dimension. They do not defend any concept of supremacy or dependence, nor do they practice any sort of rite. Against the backdrop of this tenuous and distant concept of “señorío natural” (natural lordship) hardly mentioned or used by them – the only time the Infantes invoke this very important political bond32 is to obtain private favors such as persuading the king to arrange a marriage with the Cid’s daughters33 – the Beni-Gómez’s position is simply predicated on their proximity to the king, a privilege inherited from their ancestors. The “bando” does not value any ethical principles either. On the contrary, Count García Ordóñez is moved by “invidia”: Pesó al conde don Garçía e mal era yrado. Con X de sus parientes aparte davan salto : ‘¡Maravilla es del Çid que su ondra creçe tanto! En la ondra que él ha nós seremos abiltados Por tan biltadamientre vençer reyes del campo, Commo si los falasse muertos aduzirse los cavallos. ¡Por esto que él faze nós abremos enbargo!’ (1859-65) The Infantes, for their part, are driven by cupiditas: De los yffantes de Carrión yo vos quiero contar, Fablando en su conssejo, aviendo su poridad: ‘Las nuevas del Çid mucho van adelant. Demandemos sus fijas pora con ellas casar. Creçremos en nuestra ondra e yremos adelant’. (1879-83) The Poema places these men and the social group and values (or lack thereof) they represent in a particular geographical area. They are rooted within the borders of Castile, along with other Christian lands – Carrión to the West, 32 33 For the concepts of “naturaleza” and “señorío natural”, see Martin, “Estrategias discursivas”. For this matter before the composition of Las siete partidas and how it is treated in historiography, see Martin, Les Juges de Castille, pp. 260-70. “Vinién al rey Alfonsso con esta poridad: / ‘¡Merçed vos pidimos commo a rey e a señor natural! / Con vuestro conssejo lo queremos fer nós / Que nos demandedes fijas del Campeador; / Casar queremos con ellas a su ondra e a nuestra pro’” (vv. 1884-88). Social Structures and Values in the Poema de mio Cid 331 Grañón to the East,34 that is, in the interior. Count García’s speeches frequently reveal that he and his men seldom have set foot on “tierra de moros” and have fought the Muslim enemy even less: Mager plogo al rey mucho pesó a Garçí Ordónez: ‘¡Semeja que en tierra de moros non á bivo omne, Quando assí faze a su guisa el Çid Campeador!’ Dixo el rey al conde : ‘¡Dexad essa razón; Que en todas guisas mijor me sirve que vós!’ (1345-49) They serve King Alfonso who, for as much as he exerts his authority over the people of Castile,35 and who the Castilians accept “naturalmente” as their lord,36 swears to “Sant Esidro (el de León)”37 and is repeatedly and exclusively linked to that kingdom.38 3 The Borderland Knightly Society of War and Conquest “Heredades” (inheritance) and “casas” (houses), structural characteristics of the feudal economy, are not alien to the values of the group of warriors that forms around the Infanzón Ruy Díaz. They are, in fact, representative of a world they leave behind in sorrow and by force, as is the case of Rodrigo Díaz: “Ya lo vedes que el rey le á ayrado; / Dexado ha heredades e casas e palaçios” (vv. 11415), or, more positively, like the knights who join the Cid in exile because they aspire to a more rewarding life: ¡Yo ruego a Dios e al Padre spirital, Vós que por mi dexades casas e heredades, Enantes que yo muera algún bien vos pueda far; Lo que perdedes doblado vos lo cobrar! (300-03)39 34 35 36 37 38 39 There is, on one occasion, a connection established between García Ordóñez and what was previously his tenancy: “Nos quiso levantar el Crespo de Grañón / Nin todos los del bando de yfantes de Carrión” (vv. 3112-13). See vv. 2923, 2979. See vv. 495, 1790, 2900, 2903. See vv. 1866-67, 3140, 3509. “Alfonsso el de León” (vv. 1927, 3536, 3543, 3718). For the Cid’s accumulation of wealth and the economic context of the Poema, see Joseph J. Duggan, The “Cantar de Mio Cid”. 332 Martin Nevertheless, “casas” and “heredades” create a horizon of hope for the Cid’s followers, which is what they ultimately achieve with the conquest of Valencia: Los que exieron de tierra de ritad son abondados; A todos les dio en Valençia casas e heredades De que son pagados (1245-47) At this point in the poem, however, their significance shifts; through the process of conquest, “casas” and “heredades” now become possessions imbued with an ethical value: Vós, querida e ondrada mugier e amas mis fijas, My coraçón e mi alma, Entrad comigo en Valençia la casa, En esta heredad que vos yo he ganada (1604-07) and the criterion of their value is emphatically declared: Todo el bien que yo he, todo lo tengo delant; Con afán gané a Valençia e éla por heredad; A menos de muert, no la puedo dexar (1634-36) During the process of loss and recuperation of “casas” and “heredades”, something new emerges around the Campeador, something quite different from what had previously existed: a society ready for war, first a frontier society and then one of conquest. In this warring society, birth, rank, and social standing are no longer valued, and social discrimination has become purely functional: there are “cavalleros” and “peones”,40 those who lead and those who “accompany” and “serve”.41 Everyone’s wealth is based on spoils won from the Moors (the “ganançia”, vv. 480, 506, 548, passim) and the hierarchical system by which they are allocated; for the most part, booty is divided very scrupulously in accordance with tradition or the fuero42 (“de las cabalgadas”): 40 41 42 See vv. 418-19, 806-07, 847-48, 917-18. See vv. 442-44b, 916-17, 1127-33, 1284-84b, 2836-38. For this matter, see María Eugenia Lacarra’s El Poema de mio Cid: realidad histórica e ideología, pp. 32-50 and 238. The principal fueros studied by Lacarra concerning how spoils are divided in the Poema are the Fuero de Molina de Aragón (1152), the Fuero de Teruel (1176) and the Fuero de Cuenca (1190). The Fuero sobre el fecho de las cabalgadas is a Social Structures and Values in the Poema de mio Cid 333 Mandó partir tod aqueste aver; Sos quiñoneros que ge los diessen por carta. Sos cavalleros y an arribança: A cada uno d’ellos caen C marchos de plata E a los peones la meatad sin falla. Toda la quinta a Myo Çid fincava (510-15) At times, it is the lord who selectively compensates the knight with whatever he deems appropriate: ¿Venides, Álbar Fánez, una fardida lança? ¡Do yo vos enbiás bien abría tal esperança! Esso con esto sea aiuntado; Dovos la quinta, si la quisiéredes, Minaya (489-92) Unlike the wealth of inland nobles, the riches of these initially itinerant frontier warriors, acquired from spoils won in battle, chiefly consist of personal and monetary property: arms43 and horses44 used in combat as well as to gain favor45 or to prosper (v. 1213); money (“dineros”, v. 804; “averes monedados”, v. 1217); and objects of precious metal (“oro e plata”46). Even after the conquest of Valencia and their recovery of “casas e heredades”, these “averes” are what arouse in the Cid’s men a sense of wealth: this is what they value, at times in contrast to “villas e tierras”;47 what they like to flaunt,48 and to which they feel 43 44 45 46 47 48 compilation deriving from the Fuero de Cuenca (in Memorial Histórico Español, vol. 2, pp. 438-506); it stipulates how spoils were to be divided in a way that is similar to how it is carried out in the Poema (Lacarra, p. 238). See vv. 1010, 2426. See vv. 794-97, 1010, 1781-82, 1799-800, 2426, 2499. For example, the embassies sent to King Alfonso and the other “presentajas” (vv. 815-18, 1272-77, 2251-55). See vv. 473, 799, 1214, 1737, 1970, 1978, 2495. “Vos les diestes villas e tierras por arras en tierras de Carrión; / Hyo quiéroles dar axuvar III mill marcos de plata; / Darvos e mulas e palafrés muy gruessos de sazón, / Cavallos pora en diestro, fuertes e corredores, / E muchas vestiduras de paños de çiclatones; / Darvos he dos espadas, a Colada e a Tizón; / ¡Bien lo sabedes vós que las gané a guisa de varón!” (vv. 2570-76). Following the verses quoted in the previous note, the Poema continues: “¡Que lo sepan en Gallizia e en Castiella e en León / Con qué riqueza enbío mios yernos amos a dos!” (vv. 2579-80). See also verses 1764-67, 1985-90, and 2253-59. 334 Martin a strong attachment; they are the same “averes” that the Cid implacably reclaims in the “Cortes de Toledo”.49 The division of “ganançias” (booty), which is so frequently staged in the Poema, gives rise to a meticulous system of accounting through written documentation carried out by ad hoc officials – “[Mio Cid] mandó partir tod aqueste aver; / Sos quiñoneros que ge los diessen por carta” (vv. 510-11) – and overseen by the lord’s chief deputy: “Mynaya Albar Fánez fuera era en el campo / con todas estas yentes escriviendo e contando” (vv. 1772-73). In order to avoid the temptation of personal enrichment at the expense of the group’s order and survival, repressive measures are put into place: Véelo Myo Çid que con los averes que avién tomados, Que si.s’ pudiessen yr, fer lo yen de grado; Esto mandó Myo Çid, Minaya lo ovo conssejado, ‘Que ningún omne de los sos que.s’ le non spidiés o no.l’ besás la mano, Si.l’ pudiessen prender o fuesse alcançado, Tomássenle el aver e pusiéssenle en un palo’ (1249-54) In this type of borderland seigniorial fiscal institution, accounting practices and penal jurisdiction help suppress economic infractions: Con Minaya Albar Fánez él se va consegar: ‘Si vós quisiéredes, Minaya, quiero saber recabdo De los que son aquí e comigo ganaron algo; Meterlos he en escripto, e todos sean contados; Que si alguno.s’ furtare o menos le fallaren, el aver me avrá a tornar [a] aquestos myos vassalos que curian a Valençia e andan arobdando.’ Alí dixo Minaya: ‘[Consejo] es aguisado’ (1256-62) 49 “Otra rencura he de yfantes de Carrión: / Quando sacaron de Valençia mis fijas amas a dos, / En oro e en plata tres mill marcos de plata les [di io]; / Hyo faziendo esto, ellos acabaron lo so. / ¡Denme mis averes, quando myos yernos non son!” (vv. 3202-06). This demand provokes the Infantes’ anguished reaction (“¡Aquí veriedes quexarse yfantes de Carrión!”, v. 3207), since they have spent “averes monedados” (vv. 3217-18, 3236-38). Faced with the proposal of compensating the Cid with “heredades” (v. 3223), both the “alcaldes” and the king seem inflexible. The Cid, who is treated with subtle respect (“Si esso ploguiere al Çid non ge lo vedamos nós…”, v. 3225), remains silent and allows for everything to fall into place. The Infantes compensate the Cid for the “aver monedado” they squandered with other types of wealth originating from the frontier zone that they received: arms, horses, and accouterments (vv. 3241-45). Social Structures and Values in the Poema de mio Cid 335 Well administered, on the other hand, the warriors’ economy of spoils help cement a powerful social structure: it contributes to the group’s successful cohesion;50 it confirms hierarchies dependent on arms and militaristic power, as well as the ability to strategize – knights earn twice as much as a foot soldier, and the lord retains one-fifth of the spoils51 – ; it offers possibilities of upward mobility – foot soldiers can become knights52 – ; it tempers relations with the enemy – returning them in exchange for money, their freedom, and property53 – ; and it promotes a favorable relationship with the crown by arousing King Alfonso’s self-interested benevolence.54 Moreover, the proper division of spoils imbues the personal enrichment of a knight with an ethical value. Álvar Fáñez exemplifies this sublimation in the Poema, when, on principle, he refuses to accept a fifth of the booty offered to him by the Cid after the fall of Castejón, claiming that he did not earn it, thus predicating the acquisition of riches upon one’s military effort: Mucho vos lo gradesco, Campeador contado. D’aquesta quinta que me avedes man[da]do Pagarse ya d’ella Alfonsso el Castellano. Yo vos la suelt[o], e avello quitado. A Dios lo prometo, a Aquel que está en alto: Fata que yo me page, sobre mio buen cavallo, Lidiando con moros en el campo, Que enpleye la lança e al espada meta mano 50 51 52 53 54 “Myo Çid Ruy Díaz a Alcoçer es venido. / ¡Qué bien pagó a sus vassalos mismos! / A cavalleros e a peones fechos los ha ricos; / En todos los sos non fallariedes un mesquino. / ¡Qui a buen señor sirve siempre bive en deliçio!” (vv. 846-50). “Sos cavalleros y an arribança: / A cada uno d’ellos caen C marchos de plata / E a los peones la meatad sin falla. / Toda la quinta a Myo Çid fincava” (vv. 512-15). “Los que fueron de pie cavalleros se fazen” (v. 1213). After Castejón is conquered and sold back to its inhabitants: “Del castiello que prisieron todos ricos se parten; / Los moros e las moras bendiziéndol’ están” (vv. 540-41). The same occurs with Alcocer: “Quando Myo Çid el castiello quiso quitar, / Moros e moras tomáronse a quexar: / ‘¿Vaste, Myo Çid? ¡Nuestras oraçiones váyante delante! / Nós pagados finca[m]os, señor, de la tu part.’ / Quando quitó a Alcoçer Myo Çid el de Bivar, / Moros e moras compeçaron de lorar” (vv. 851-56). This is the chief objective of all the Cid’s embassies to Alfonso: “Ydo es a Castiella Albar Fánez Minaya; / Treynta cavallos al rey los enpresentava. / Violos el rey, fermoso sonrrisava:/ ‘¿Quí.n’ los dio éstos, sí vos vala Dios, Mynaya?’ / ‘Myo Çid Ruy Díaz, que en buen ora cinxo espada. / Vençió dos reyes de moros en aquesta batalla; / Sobejana es, señor, la su ganaçia. / A vós, rey ondrado, enbía esta presentaja’ (vv. 871-78). The same is observed in vv. 1826-54. 336 Martin E por el cobdo ayuso la sangre destelando Ante Ruy Díaz, el lidiador contado, Non prendré de vós quanto vale un dinero malo. (493-503) Within the context of the warrior’s economic ethic, the “preçio” (value) of a person depends on his dedication and efficiency – that is to say, on his “afán” (his eagerness to succeed).55 Thus, in accordance with the careful administration of goods and how such wealth is earned, the Infantes of Carrión, once integrated into the Cid’s group, are quickly condemned and ultimately rejected by the social body of frontier warriors. With subtle irony, the poet censures the Infantes’ cold self-interest and their unwise financial conduct while on the way to their weddings: Los yffantes de Carrión mucho alegres andan; Lo uno adebdan e lo otro pagavan; Commo ellos tenién, creçer les ya la ganaçia, Quantos quisiessen averes d’oro o de plata.” (1975-78) In similarly dreadful economic terms, the poet has the Infantes pronounce their fearful account balance just before entering battle: “¡Catamos la ganançia e la pérdida no!” (v. 2320). If “casas” and “heredades” are not foreign to the economic mindset of the Cid’s men, the notion of kinship is not alien to their social conceptions and practices either. The hero loves his wife and daughters56 and cares for them.57 He also has nephews who help and advise him: Álvar Fáñez, Pero Bermúdez, and Félez Muñoz.58 However, nothing is ever said of parents or ancestors. While the Beni-Gómez view kinship in a vertical way that essentially values 55 56 57 58 See vv. 1635, 1935, 3507. In this regard, some of the verses from the farewell at San Pedro de Cardeña have become famous: “A las sus fijas en braço las prendía, / Lególas al coraçón, ca mucho las quería, / Lora de los ojos, tan fuertemientre sospira: / ‘¡Ya, doña Ximena, la mi mugier tan complida, / Commo a la mi alma yo tanto vos quería!’” (vv. 275-79); also, “Lorando de los ojos que non viestes atal, / Así.s’ parten unos d’otros commo la uña de la carne” (vv. 374-75). Speaking to the abbot Don Sancho, the Cid says: “‘Evades aquí, pora doña Ximena dovos C marchos; / A ella e a sus fijas e a sus duenas sirvádeslas est año. / Dues fijas dexo niñas, e prendetlas en los braços; / Aquéllas vos acomiendo a vós, abbat don Sancho. / D’ellas e de mi mugier fagades todo recabdo’” (vv. 253-57). As the narration progresses, marrying Doña Elvira and Doña Sol becomes one of the Cid’s chief concerns (vv. 1754-55, 1768, etc.). See respectively verses 2846 and 3438; 2351 and 3189; 741, 2618, 2634, 2765, 2770, 2777-80, and 3069. Social Structures and Values in the Poema de mio Cid 337 filiation (“natura”), for the Cid, the “exercise of family relations”59 is experienced exclusively in the present, it is a synchronic and horizontal mindset put into practice. He places great importance on alliances: relationships between husband and wife, uncle and nephews, father-in-law and sons-in-law. Although the Poema alludes to Jimena’s noble ancestry (“menbrada fija dalgo”, v. 210) and recalls Doña Elvira and Doña Sol’s nobility – their “hidalguía” – (vv. 1565 and 2232), probably to put them on equal footing with other members of the aristocracy such as the counts, there is a disregard, if not entirely for parentage (the relationship between father-daughters), most certainly for ancestry. Kinship ties as represented among, and perceived by, members of the Cid’s group are thus more extensive, varied, practical, and loaded with greater emotional depth than among the members of the Beni-Gómez clan. Since the Cid’s men grant the utmost importance to alliances, kinship is an open structure and essentially political in nature. In effect, this is the type of relationship that strengthens the Cid’s group and provides the framework of a social construct that, like the “bando” in the case of the Beni-Gómez, channels his public intervention: the “mesnada”,60 which is essentially a seigniorial body of warriors comprised of relatives and vassals led by a feudal lord who is advised and supported by completely trustworthy nephew-deputies. Unlike the “bando”, in the Cid’s “mesnada” what is consistently valued is a kind of public bond that gives rise to an important ritualism and in which both internal relations as well as those with the king are strengthened. The Cid’s group does not ignore the concept of “señor natural” (natural lord); actually, in practice, it makes more use of it than the Carrión clan does.61 This, however, comes to an end with the first weddings of Doña Elvira and Doña Sol. What dominates throughout the rest of the work – and what distinguishes the social group of the frontier warriors – is the vindication not of “naturaleza”, but of another type of relationship – one that was freely and personally entered into – that could govern relations of dependence in the medieval Castile: vassalage.62 In the Poema, the word “vasallo”, referring either 59 60 61 62 This expression is borrowed from Françoise Héritier, L’exercice de la parenté. See vv. 487, 662, 702, 745, 837, 1083, 1115, 1601, 1736, and 2294. “¡Grado e graçias, rey, commo a señor natural!” (Álvar Fañez to King Alfonso, v. 895); “Al rey Alfonsso, myo señor natural, / D’estas mis ganançias que avemos fechas acá/ Darle quiero C cavallos; e vós ydgelos levar” (the Cid to Álvar Fáñez, vv. 1272-74); “Merçed vos pido a vós, myo natural señor” (the Cid to King Alfonso, v. 2031); and “Yo vos pido merçed a vós, rey natural” (the Cid to King Alfonso, v. 2131). According to Partidas II,XVIII,XXXII, “Naturaleza e vassallaje son los mayores debdos que ome puede auer con su señor”. For more on this, see my study mentioned in note 32. Francisco Bautista, whose argument is partially based on a study published years ago about 338 Martin to “naturaleza” or vassalage, is applied in the majority of cases and in a completely personal way to the relationship the Cid’s men maintain with their “señor”,63 or to the one the Cid hopes, and finally is able, to establish with King Alfonso.64 The same can be said of a gesture only employed by members of the Cid’s group that, although it had gained a widespread protocolary use, was unmistakably incorporated into the ritual of offering vassallatic homage: the “besamanos”.65 Kissing the lord’s hand is the gesture by which the Cid’s followers show their formal integration into the “mesnada” (v. 298b). It is also used in other key moments: when taking leave (v. 1252) and giving thanks (vv. 692, 1769, 2092, 2235, 3198). Use of the “besamanos” goes beyond the realm of the Cid’s warriors, for it also extends to members of his family – Jimena and her daughters also kiss the Cid’s hand –,66 at times associating both groups with each other, as in the case of Pedro Bermúdez, who is both the Campeador’s nephew and vassal.67 Outside the Cid’s group, in situations of dependence in which the lord and his “mesnada” confront a superior authority, the “besamanos” frequently characterizes the relationship between the Cid’s group and King Alfonso like during the first embassies (vv. 1275, 1818), in the episode of the reconciliation between the Cid and the monarch (v. 2039), and, with exceptional frequency, during the presentation of the Cid’s claims at the judicial court (vv. 2936, 2948, 3017, 3512). With respect to the relationship between the Cid and King Alfonso – one must grant exceptional importance to this reitera- 63 64 65 66 67 this topic that I no longer support, simplifies and misinterprets my position on this point in his “Como a señor natural”. The historic context to which I refer is not the rebellions by “burgueses” that took place in the early decades of the 12th century, but rather the reign of Alfonso VIII. Moreover, I do not argue that there is a clear opposition between “naturaleza” and “vasallaje” in the Poema, but rather that there is an articulation of both models in which the inherent natural connection is invigorated and made more flexible by the free and personal commitment of vassalage (in 1996, I wrote: “une naturalité tempérée et régénérée par le vasselage”, Chanson de Mon Cid, p. 46). See vv. 204, 249, 376, 430, 568, 604, 803, 806, 847, 1044, 1261, 1479, 1729, 1739, 1765, 1784, 1853, 2243, 2258, 2265, 2273, 2278, 2341, 2455, 2459, 2473, 2506, 2532, 2901, 2969, 3193, 3341. See vv. 20, 1339, 1847, 2905, 2938, 2948. Only once does the term “vasallo” refer to the king’s “señorío” over other men: v. 2982 (“¡Qui non viniesse a la cort non se toviesse por su vassallo!”). The ritual consisted in a verbal formula (“Vos sodes mi señor, yo só vuestro vasallo”), followed by a gesture (the “besamanos”). See Hilda Grassotti, Las instituciones feudo-vasalláticas, vol. 1, pp. 141-62. See also Jacques Le Goff’s analysis and commentaries, “Le rituel symbolique”, pp. 355-56. See vv. 264-65, 369, 1608, 2190, 2607, 2895. See v. 692. About the similarity between family relations valued by the Cid’s group and the vassallatic model of dependency, see my study "Structures de parenté”. Social Structures and Values in the Poema de mio Cid 339 tion as preserved in the littera of the Poema – the “besamanos” is usually accompanied by the verbal declaration of vassalage, thereby completing the ritual of rendering homage virtually, in posse, during the first embassies: “Bésavos las manos […] / Razonas’ por vuestro vassallo e a vós tiene por señor” (vv. 1338-39); “¡Merçed, rey Alfonsso, sodes tan ondrado! / Por Myo Çid el Campeador todo esto vos besamos. / A vós lama por señor e tienes’ por vuestro vassallo” (vv. 1845-47). It occurs virtually in the first embassies and, indeed, with greater frequency after the (alleged) reconciliation, when the Cid presents his demand to King Alfonso after the “Afrenta de Corpes” and during the ensuing judicial procedures. In this final segment, Alfonso’s sovereignty over his vassal is decidedly and systematically invoked by the Cid, by his emissaries, and even by the narrator: “Por mí bésale la mano d’alma e de coraçón; / Cuemo yo so su vassallo e el es myo señor […]” (vv. 2904-05); “Los pies e las manos vos besa el Campeador; / Ele es vuestro vassallo e vós sodes so señor” (vv. 2936-37); “Por esto vos besa las manos commo vassallo a señor” (v. 2948); “[A] Álvar Fánez adelant enbió / Que besasse las manos al rey so señor” (vv. 3016-17); “Myo Çid en el cavallo adelant se legó; / Fue besar la mano a so señor Alfonsso” (vv. 3511-12). In addition to these political values, marked with strong ritualism, the Poema imbues the Cidian social formation with a rich ethic that is both secular and spiritual in nature: generic goodness,68 valor (v. 418), merit (vv. 194, 1126), strength (vv. 718, 757), moderation (v. 7), honesty (vv. 3351, 3362, 3386), faith and devotion (passim), charity (vv. 709, 720, 2355), hope based on strength and faith,69 etc. Exalted for the laudable goal of carrying out the Christian conquest, greed is no longer censured.70 The codified regulation of the warriors’ economy becomes more flexible and is exalted through the moral dialectic of service and compensation71 as well as through a key element of bonding: “debdo”.72 On this reciprocity – seen from both an economic and ethical per68 69 70 71 72 See vv. 430, 444b, 655, 690, 740, 969, 1426, 1430, 1583, 1729, 1803, 2293, 2343, 2463, passim. Álvar Fáñez says, “Çid, ¿dó son vestros esfuerços? ¡en buen ora nasquiestes de madre! / Pensemos de yr nuestra vía, esto sea de vagar; / Aún todos estos duelos en gozo se tornarán; / Dios, que nos dio las almas, consejo nos dará” (vv. 379-82). “Amaneçió a Myo Çid en tierras de Monreal. / Por Aragón e por Navarra pregón mandó echar; / A tierras de Castiella enbió sus mensajes: / Quien quiere perder cueta e venir a rritad, / Viniesse a Myo Çid que a sabor de cavalgar; / Çercar quiere a Valençia por a christianos la dar. […] Al sabor de la ganançia non lo quiere detardar. / Grandes yentes se le acojen de la buena christiandad” (vv. 1186-91 y 1198-99). See vv. 489-92, 810-12, 1245-47b, 1764-67, 1793-98, 1804-08, 2641, 2797. “El Criador vos vala, Çid Campeador leal! / Vo meter la vestra seña en aquela mayor az; / Los que el debdo avedes veremos cómmo la acorredes” (vv. 706-08); “¡Oyd, ya, Çid 340 Martin spective – in the fulfillment of one’s “debdo” rests the great public affection that shapes and consolidates the Cid’s retinue: “amor”,73 mainly the lord’s love for his vassals – “A todos les dio en Valençia casas e heredades \ De que son pagados /¡el amor de Myo Çid ya lo yvan provando!” (vv. 1246-47b) – but also the vassals’ love for their lord (v. 1692) and similarly, the love that is shared among “amigos”, or friends.74 Thus, the Cidian retinue is a strongly hierarchical yet unified structure; it produces wealth that is administered with fairness and good judgment; it is strengthened by the public ritualism associated with vassalage; it is guided by a rich and demanding ethos; and it is imbued with love. Despite its circumstantial beginnings, it quickly achieves lofty ambitions: it fights the Moors and carries out the Christian reconquest (vv. 1189-91, 1296-301). After the capture of Valencia, the “mesnada” as a social organization characterizing the Cid’s group becomes obsolete or, perhaps, dominated by a more sedentary and governmental organization: the “cort”.75 However, even under the power of the “cort”, which is comprised of the leaders of the “mesnada” as well as the lord’s wife and daughters (vv. 2511-20), the primitive social structure, its mechanisms of command, its values, and its rituals remain in force. For more on these categories, see the references before and after verse 1210 noted above. The world of the frontier warriors – the type of economy, society, dependency, and ethic cultivated and valued within it – also has a geographical center: it is not Valencia, the fortunate end of these men’s adventures, but Castile, “Castiella la gentil”,76 the homeland for which they always yearn,77 their everlasting roots78 that never leaves their sight and to whom they boast 73 74 75 76 77 78 Canpeador leal! / Esta batalla, el Criador la ferá; / E vós, tan diño que con Él avedes part, / Mandádno’los ferir de quál part vos semejar. / El debdo que á cada uno a conplir será” (vv. 2361b-65); see also vv. 2598, 3528, 3535, 3703. For more on this affection and its semantic effectiveness in the Poema, see my study, “Amour (une notion politique)”. Consider the case of Rodrigo Díaz and the Moor Abengalbón: “¡Oyas, sobrino, tú, Félez Munoz! / Por Molina yredes; una noch y iazredes; / Saludad a myo amigo, el moro Avén Galvón; / Reçiba a myos yernos commo él pudier mejor. / Dil’ que enbío mis fijas a tierras de Carrión; / De lo que ovieren huebos sírvanlas a so sabor; / Desí escúrralas fasta Medina por la mi amor. / De quanto él fiziere yo.l’ dar[é] por ello buen galardón” (vv. 2634-41); see also vv. 2658 and 2883. See vv. 1263, 2283, 2303, 2307, 2474, 2511, 2558, 2835. See vv. 672, 829. See vv. 176, 219-20, 287-88. Although they are pleased with the wealth and beauty of Valencia, the Cid and his vassals do not forget their Castilian “heredades” (“Si a vós ploguiere, Minaya, e non vos caya en pesar, / Enbiarvos quiero a Castiella, do avemos heredades”, vv. 1270-71). Social Structures and Values in the Poema de mio Cid 341 their merits and prosperity.79 The heroic adventure narrated in the Poema and its social connotations acquire their full meaning only when Castile’s destiny and the challenges it faces are kept in mind. More than any other indicator, a more profound trait that marks the superiority of the social formation headed by the Campeador over that of the Infantes of Carrión is its analogies to the prescribed order (although not always practiced) in the royal court. Like the Cid, King Alfonso also has “mesnadas” at his disposal80 and values the dialectic of service81 and compensation.82 He often invokes “amor” as public affection83 and handles it like nobody else. Goodness (v. 2095), merit (v. 1898b), and honesty (vv. 2139, 2954-55) are part of his ethical values. All this, for sure, has to do with structures, logic, and shared notions that are general characteristics of the nobility in the early Middle Ages. Yet it is precisely for not cultivating nor adhering to these qualities that the BeniGómez’s clan and its allies are discredited. Despite the fact that the king and his “cort” – that is to say, the men belonging to his innermost circle: Counts Don Enrique and Don Ramón, the other counts, and the “omnes buenos de la cort”84 – share the same values exalted by the Cid and his “mesnada”, the diegesis of the Poema results in mutual support only after a long process. The dynamic of the Poema’s socio-political meaning delineates the shifting evolution of a king who goes from supporting the representatives of the first of the two social formations we have studied to backing those of the second. Despite how much the Cid proves his fidelity and manifests the success of his organization, his practices, and his values through the embassies he sends to Castile, King Alfonso seems reluctant to be on the Cid’s side before the “Afrenta de Corpes”. Even after the Campeador’s conquest of Valencia, his victory over King Bucar, and the three envoys he sends to Castile, King Alfonso is still undecided: “Assí commo semeja, e la veluntad me lo diz, / Todas estas nuevas a bien abrán de venir” (vv. 1875-76). The reconciliation on the shore of the Tagus River, which has been accepted at face value by scholars, is based on faulty premises. The motives driving the king, who has decided to forgive the Cid, is primarily to provide the Infantes of Carrión with a marriage that will benefit them economically: 79 80 81 82 83 84 “Dize Mynaya: ‘¡Agora só pagado, / Que a Castiella yrán buenos mandados / Que Myo Çid Ruy Díaz lid campal á vençida’” (vv. 782-84); see also vv. 813-14, 829-31, 1301, 1505-12, 1767. See vv. 509, 528, 1980, 1982, 2038, 3128. See vv. 1348-49, 1869. See vv. 1855-57, 1898-99, 2151-53. See vv. 1923-24, 1945, 2029, 2034, 2640, 2658, 2971, 3132, 3141. See vv. 3001-04, 3035-37, 3108-10, 3179. 342 Martin De los yffantes de Carrión yo vos quiero contar, Fablando en su conssejo, aviendo su poridad: ‘Las nuevas del Çid mucho van adelant. Demandemos sus fijas pora con ellas casar. Creçremos en nuestra ondra e yremos adelant’. Vinién al rey Alfonsso con esta poridad: ‘¡Merçed vos pidimos commo a rey e a señor natural!’ ‘Con vuestro conssejo lo queremos fer nós Que nos demandedes fijas del Campeador; Casar queremos con ellas a su ondra e a nuestra pro’. Una grant ora el rey penssó e comidió: ‘Hyo eché de tierra al buen Campeador, E faziendo yo ha él mal, e él a mí grand pro, Del casamiento non sé si.s’ abrá sabor. ¡Mas pues bós lo queredes, entremos en la razón!’ A Mynaya Albar Fánez e a Pero Vermúez El rey don Alfonsso essora los lamó; A una quadra ele los apartó: ‘¡Oydme, Mynaya, e vós, Per Vermúez! Sírvem’ Myo Çid el Campeador; él lo mereçe E de mí abrá perdón. Viniéssem’ a vistas si oviesse dent sabor. Otros mandados ha en esta mi cort. Diego e Ferrando, los yffantes de Carrión, Sabor han de casar con sus fijas amas a dos. Sed buenos menssageros, e ruego vos lo yo Que ge lo digades al buen Campeador (vv. 1879-904) Who would dare reject the monarch’s request? In fact, King Alfonso is only willing to grant his forgiveness on the condition that Ruy Díaz consent to the Infantes’ self-interested request to marry his daughters. Only as a consequence of the “Afrenta de Corpes” and the ensuing legal claim does the Cid receive just acknowledgement and due support by virtue of the vassallatic bond re-established on the shore of the Tagus River, a pact of which the Cid vociferously and continuously reminds King Alfonso, forcing the monarch to accept responsibility for having caused such a disgrace to one of his vassals.85 To a large extent, 85 For a more thorough analysis of this meeting, its development, and its impact, see Martin, Chanson de Mon Cid, pp. 41-45. For a different reading of this episode, see Funes’ chapter in this volume. Social Structures and Values in the Poema de mio Cid 343 the Cid’s trajectory ultimately consists in the materialization – only after heartbreaking vicissitudes – of a far reaching observation implicitly formulated at the beginning of the poem by the people of Burgos, whose words must be understood in their fullest feudo-vassallatic meaning: “¡Dios, qué buen vassalo, sí oviesse buen señor!” (v. 20). In the Poema, this slow and troublesome evolution emphasizes the need for, and the benefits of, both Castile and its king embracing the social formation represented by the Cid: a disparate yet dedicated chivalry combining mid to low-level groups of noble warriors hungry for riches and conquests, competent and eager to serve the king and Christianity, and whose loyalty can be earned by the monarch through vassallatic bonds that would create the conditions allowing those men and groups to have a closer relationship with the king and would place limits on the hegemony of the hereditary nobility. Within the historic context in which Castile was affirming its preeminence over the other kingdoms of the Peninsula, while at the same time arousing resentment and suspicion from members of former Leonese tutelage, this message is directed at the grandson of the “buen enperador” who moved the seat of the Spanish Empire from León to Toledo. More specifically, this message is meant for Alfonso VIII, the representative of a new Castilian monarchy who looked for and created his governmental foundations; who went to great lengths to consolidate his legitimacy by commissioning the first royal Castilian chronicle, the Najerense;86 and who strived to consecrate his dynastic continuity by founding the royal mausoleum at Santa María la Real in Burgos.87 While contributing to the configuration of the new Castilian monarchy, the Poema’s aim is to remind its public of the heroic deeds of conquest achieved by the monarch’s relative and ancestor, along with all due social and political connotations. Works Cited Alfonso X el Sabio, Las siete partidas, Gregorio López (ed.), Salamanca: Andrea de Portonariis, 1555 (facsimil: Madrid: Boletín Oficial del Estado, 1974). Arranz Guzmán, Ana, “Cuando el clérigo va a la guerra: algunos ejemplos de obispos ‘peleadores’”, in Ana Arranz Guzmán, María del Pilar Rábade Obradó and Óscar 86 87 See the volume of e-Spania recently dedicated to this work: Chronica Naiarensis, e-Spania, 7, June 2009 <http://e-spania.revues.org/17958>. Georges Martin, “Sobre mujeres y tumbas”. 344 Martin Villarroel González (coords.), Guerra y paz en la Edad Media, Madrid: Silex, 2013, pp. 275-308. Ayala Martínez, Carlos de, “Alfonso VII y la Cruzada. Participación de los obispos en la ofensiva reconquistadora”, in María Isabel del Val Valdivieso and Pascual Martínez Sopena (dirs.), Castilla y el mundo feudal. Homenaje al profesor Julio Valdeón, Valladolid: Junta de Castilla y León/Universidad de Valladolid, 2009, pp. 513-29. Bautista, Francisco, “Como a señor natural: interpretaciones políticas del Cantar de Mio Cid”, Olivar 10 (2007), 173-84. Carlé, María del Carmen, “Infanzones e hidalgos”, Cuadernos de Historia de España 33-34 (1961), 58-100. Chronica Naiarensis, e-Spania [Online], 7 June 2009 (http://e-spania.revues.org/17958). Díaz de Durana, José Ramón, “Las luchas de bandos: ligas nobiliarias y enfrentamientos banderizos en el nordeste de la Corona de Castilla”, in José Ignacio de la Iglesia Duarte (coord.), Conflictos sociales, políticos e intelectuales en la España de los siglos XIV y XV, XIV semana de estudios medievales de Nájera, Nájera: Instituto de Estudios Riojanos, 2004, pp. 81-112. Duby, Georges, Les trois ordres ou l’imaginaire du féodalisme, Paris: Gallimard, 1978 (Spanish translation: Los tres órdenes o lo imaginario del feudalismo, Madrid: Taurus, 1992). Duggan, Joseph J., The “Cantar de Mio Cid”: Poetic Creation in its Economic and Social Contexts, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989. Fuero sobre el fecho de las cabalgadas, Real Academia de la Historia (ed.), in Memorial Histórico Español, vol. 2, Madrid: Real Academia de la Historia, 1851, pp. 438-506. Gerbet, Marie-Claude, Les noblesses espagnoles au moyen âge, Paris: Armand Colin, 1994. Grassotti, Hilda, Las instituciones feudo-vasalláticas en Castilla y León, 2 vol., Spoleto: Centro Italiano di Studi sull’alto Medioevo, 1969. Héritier, Françoise, L’exercice de la parenté, Paris: Gallimard-Le Seuil, 1981. Lacarra, José María, “En torno a la propagación de la voz ‘hidalgo’”, in Homenaje a don Agustín Millares Carlo, Las Palmas: Caja Insular de Ahorros de Gran Canaria, 2, 1975, pp. 43-53 Lacarra, María Eugenia, El Poema de mio Cid: realidad histórica e ideología, Madrid: José Porrúa Turanzas, 1980. Le Goff, Jacques, “Le rituel symbolique de la vassalité”, in Pour un autre moyen âge, Paris: Gallimard, 1977, pp. 349-420. Manuel, don Juan, Libro de los estados, José Manuel Blecua (ed.), in Obras completas, 2 vols, Madrid: Gredos, 1981-83, vol. 1, pp. 191-502. Martin, Georges, “Las arcas de arena. ¿El motivo folklórico como ocultación/enunciación del mensaje épico?”, in Literatura y folklore: problemas de intertextualidad, Salamanca: Acta Salmanticensia-Serie varia, 45, 1983, pp. 177-88. Social Structures and Values in the Poema de mio Cid 345 Martin, Georges, Les Juges de Castille. Mentalités et discours historique dans l’Espagne médiévale, Paris: Annexes des Cahiers de Linguistique Hispanique Médiévale 6 (1992). Martin, Georges, Chanson de Mon Cid/Cantar de Mio Cid, Paris: Aubier, 1996. Martin, Georges, “Amour (une notion politique)”, in Histoires de l’Espagne médiévale: historiographie, geste, romancero, Paris: Annexes des Cahiers de Linguistique Hispanique Médiévale 11 (1997), 169-206. Martin, Georges, “Structures de parenté et régimes de la dépendance politique”, in Histoires de l’Espagne médiévale: historiographie, geste, romancero, Paris: Annexes des Cahiers de Linguistique Hispanique Médiévale 11 (1997), 153-67. Martin, Georges, Histoires de l’Espagne médiévale: historiographie, geste, romancero, Paris: Annexes des Cahiers de Linguistique Hispanique Médiévale 11 (1997). Martin, Georges, dir., La chevalerie en Castille à la fin du moyen âge. Aspects sociaux, idéologiques et imaginaires, Paris: Ellipses, 2001. Martin, Georges, “Estrategias discursivas y lingüísticas de los legistas alfonsíes: de nuevo sobre naturaleza”, e-Spania [Online], 15 | June 2013, posted online 24 May 2013, consulted on 04 February 2015. URL : <http://e-spania.revues.org/22526> ; DOI : 10.4000/ e-spania.22526. Martin, Georges, “Sobre mujeres y tumbas. Aproximación a una política femenina de las necrópolis regias y condales (León y Castilla, siglos X al XIII)”, § 15-17, e-Spania [Online], 17 | February 2014, posted online 01 February 2014, consulted on 11 February 2015. URL: <http://e-spania.revues.org/23273; DOI: 10.4000/e-spania.23273>. Menéndez Pidal, Ramón, ed., Cantar de Mio Cid: texto, gramática y vocabulario, 2 vols., 5th ed., Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1977. Nieto Soria, José Manuel, Iglesia y poder real en Castilla. El episcopado (1250-1350), Madrid: Universidad Complutense, 1988. Rodríguez Velasco, Jesús, El debate sobre la caballería en el siglo XV. La tratadística caballeresca en su marco europeo, Salamanca: Junta de Castilla y León, 1996. Rodríguez Velasco, Jesús, Ciudadanía, soberanía monárquica y caballería, Madrid: Akal, 2009 (English translation: Order and Chivalry: Knighthood and Citizenship in Late Medieval Castile, Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2010). Roitman, Gisela, “El episodio de Rachel y Vidas, polifónico y al mismo tiempo velado”, Revista de Literatura Medieval 23 (2011), 237-59. Torres Sevilla, Margarita, Linajes nobiliarios de León y Castilla (siglos IX-XIII), Salamanca: Junta de Castilla y León, 1998. 346 Martin Figure 11.1 The king bids farewell to his army that departs for war. Miniature of the Biblia de San Millán de la Cogolla (La Rioja, Spain), beginning of the 13th century (Biblioteca de la Real Academia de la Historia, Cod. 2, f. 181v). Published By Kind Permission Of The Real Academia De La Historia. Legal Aspects of the Poema de mio Cid 347 Chapter 12 Legal Aspects of the Poema de mio Cid Eukene Lacarra Lanz Translated by Peter Mahoney 1 Introduction1 To understand and analyze literary texts written more than eight hundred years ago, one must investigate the society in which they were created through the analysis of diplomatic and historical documents. When studying epic literature, it is particularly interesting to know the customs and laws that shaped the society in which epic authors lived. Their poetic texts reveal the power relations that, to a great extent, were rooted in the laws governing their society. The language of the Poema de mio Cid (PMC, Poema), which proceeds from both common speech as well as military and legal terminology, reveals the author’s erudition and his familiarity with the law. Three legal acts of King Alfonso dominate the critical highpoints of the Poema and the king’s relationship with Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar: the ira regia (royal wrath), the royal pardon, and the convening of the Cortes of Toledo. Royal wrath and royal pardon were manifestations of the king’s authority by which he granted or revoked his love in a voluntary and arbitrary way. Naturally, legislation provided that certain crimes could give rise to the royal wrath, but the king enjoyed full freedom to direct his rage at his ricos hombres merely because of ill will he harbored against them. The consequences of the ira regia described in the PMC correspond with those stipulated in existing legislation: banishment, confiscation of all property, loss of lands granted by the king, dishonor, and loss of patria potestas. On the other hand, granting royal pardon was not precisely an act of justice, but rather, it was a manifestation of royal grace. Although convening the cortes was the sole prerogative of the king, it pertained to the realm of justice and governance of the kingdom. Noblemen had the right to file lawsuits in the ordinary royal court, while the extraordinary court usually treated judicial, political, or economic matters concerning the general welfare of the kingdom. 1 I have relied on two of my earlier studies for the preparation of this chapter: El Poema de mio Cid: realidad histórica e ideología and “La representación del rey Alfonso en el Poema de mio Cid desde la ira regia hasta el perdón real”. © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004363755_014 348 2 Lacarra Lanz The Ira Regia Kings were not the only ones who could discharge their wrath: nobles, clergymen, and especially God could also. Rage originating from anger, envy, or fury was considered one of the twelve mortal sins.2 An irate king – such as King Alfonso in the Historia Roderici – could be considered a rex iniquus. However, the royal wrath did not necessarily imply that the monarch harbored hostile and malicious sentiments.3 Kings needed to be prudent, pious, clement, merciful, and fair; but they also had to be feared, respected, and obeyed by their knights. In order to be respected and feared, at times it was necessary to resort to the use of a form of terror referred to as ira regia. The king could employ his wrath through a system of unwritten laws, and although the legislation established that certain crimes could give rise to the ira regia, the monarch enjoyed absolute freedom to use his anger against his ricos hombres because of mere malquerencia.4 Whenever the king’s wrath was appropriate, it needed to be represented and manifested, since it did not necessarily have negative connotations nor did it imply irrational conduct.5 Nevertheless, there is an important change in the 12th century: the king was praised when he used his rage fairly because it was believed that justice was more important than clemency.6 3 Origins of the Ira Regia in Castile and León The ira regia, whose origins date back to the 7th and 8th centuries, is related to the breach of the Visigothic pax regis in the laws of Chindaswinth (II,I,VIII) and Recceswinth (II,I,VI) of the Liber iudiciorum. In documents dated in the 10th century the king threatens to use his rage against anyone who disobeys his orders by declaring “iram regis habeat”, or “regis amorem perdat”, since the indignatio regis entailed the loss of royal love.7 The use of these phrases became widespread during the second decade of the 10th century. An example is the case of Bishop Frunimio of León, who suffered the wrath of King Fruela II in 924.8 2 Althoff, “Ira regis: Prolegomena to a History of Royal Anger”, p. 61. 3 Lacarra, El Poema de mio Cid: realidad histórica e ideología, p. 23. 4 Lacarra, El Poema de mio Cid: realidad histórica e ideología, pp. 8-12; Grassotti, “La ira regia en León y Castilla”. 5 White, “The Politics of Anger”, p. 137. 6 Althoff, “Ira regis: Prolegomena to a History of Royal Anger”, p. 70. 7 Grassotti, “La ira regia en León y Castilla”, pp. 11 and 14. 8 Ibid, p. 13. Legal Aspects of the Poema de mio Cid 349 The indignatio regis carried “el destierro, la pérdida de honores y tenencias y la ruptura del vínculo vasallático”.9 Noblemen most frequently incurred the royal wrath because of treason, rebellion, or conspiracy. Alfonso VI relied on Recceswinth’s law (II,I,VI) to direct his rage against Count Rodrigo Ovéquiz, who was accused of rebellion. A diploma registering a donation made to the see of Lugo attests that the count was punished with exile, and all his personal property and landed estates were confiscated. The offender, however, was not sentenced to death or punished with blindness, as the penalty prescribed in Chindaswinth’s law (II,I,VIII) would have directed.10 The use of royal rage was not always related to crimes and there are no testimonies of any trials.11 4 Legal Sources of the Ira Regia in the Poema de mio Cid The major obstacle hindering the study of juridical aspects in the PMC is identifying the legal sources that were used. We know that the Fuero Juzgo was used in León to a certain extent, whereas consuetudinary laws, which varied from one municipality to another, were employed in Castile.12 Although the Fuero Viejo de Castilla, the Fuero Real, and Alfonso X’s Siete Partidas were compiled after the Poema was composed, the laws included in these legal codes predate the PMC. Nevertheless, fueros municipales and royal documents partly compensate, in my opinion, for the lack of general codes of law, and they are better evidence of how the law was practiced and applied in both the penal and procedural systems. The anonymous author of the PMC was undoubtedly familiar with the law. This has been pointed out by many scholars who have studied the poem, among others, Eduardo de Hinojosa, Nilda Gugielmi, Luis García de Valdeavellano, Hilda Grassotti, Pedro Corominas, and more recently, Montaner Frutos.13 9 10 11 12 13 Ibid, p. 32. Ibid, pp. 29-31. Ibid, p. 32. Lacarra, El Poema de mio Cid: realidad histórica e ideología, pp. 4-8 and n. 12. Ibid, pp. 4-5; Montaner Frutos, “Acusar y defender en la Edad Media”, pp. 261-66. 350 5 Lacarra Lanz Representation of the Ira Regia in the Poema de mio Cid By the time the PMC was written (around 1207),14 two texts about Rodrigo Díaz were already in existence: the Historia Roderici and the Carmen Campidoctoris.15 Today, there is a general consensus that these works not only predate the PMC, but that they were also used to compose the Poema. The most recent research dates these texts to the final years of the 12th century (around 1190).16 Peña Pérez believes that they were produced after the Liber Regum;17 if this hypothesis is correct, the PMC must be dated to sometime after 1200, which is, according to Bautista, when the Liber was composed.18 It is evident that the author of the PMC made substantial modifications to the Cid’s characterization, since he is not the same rebellious vassal depicted in the Historia Roderici.19 Likewise, Alfonso VI is no longer portrayed as the angry, envious, and unfair king we find in this Latin text, nor is he like the monarch who plots Rodrigo’s death in the Carmen Campidoctoris. On the contrary, in the PMC Alfonso is shown to be a magnanimous, magnificent, generous, fair, prudent, and humble king. He directs his royal rage at the Cid, giving credence to the false accusation made by García Ordóñez and other ricos hombres in his court, yet nobody accuses the monarch of iniquity. The Cid exonerates King Alfonso and blames his enemies: “¡Esto me an buelto mios enemigos malos!” (v. 9); similarly, Jimena holds those seeking to make trouble for the Cid responsible: “Por malos mestureros de tierra sodes echado” (v. 265). King Alfonso directs his wrath against his vassal with all the consequences it carries: he banishes the Cid from his kingdom sine die, confiscates Rodrigo’s property, and gives the hero nine days to leave the kingdom under pain of death. This single period of time differs from the three periods that are specified in the Fuero Viejo de Castilla, yet it corresponds to the timeframe stipulated in several fueros municipales such as the Fuero de León and the Fuero de Calatayud.20 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 Ibid, p. 262. Falque, ed., Historia Roderici, pp. 1-98 Montaner and Escobar, eds., Carmen Campidoctoris, pp. 86-93 and 135; Figueras i Capdevila, “Carmen Campi Doctoris. Estat de la qüestió”, pp. 11-41; Montaner, “La construcción biográfica de la Historia Roderici”; Montaner, “La Historia Roderici y el archivo cidiano”, pp. 1-62; Escobar, “La lengua del Carmen Campidoctoris”. Peña Pérez, “Gesta Roderici. El Cid en la historiografía latina”, paragraphs 70-72. Bautista, “Original, versiones e influencia del Liber regum”, paragraph 6. Barton, “Reinventing the Hero”, pp. 65-78. Orlandis, “La paz de la casa en el derecho español”, p. 120. Legal Aspects of the Poema de mio Cid 351 The legal consequences of the ira regia presented in the Poema are banishment sine die, loss of patria potestas, confiscation of property, loss of lands granted by the king, and dishonor. The prologue to Partida IV,XVIII, which is entitled “De las razones por que se tuelle el poder que han los padres sobre los fijos”, states that a person is subject to civil death “por juicio que sea dado en razon de desterramiento para siempre, á que llaman en latin mors civilis”. Law II of title XVIII states: Civil muerte es dicha una manera que hi ha de pena, que fue establescida en las leyes contra aquellos que facen tal yerro por que merescen seer judgados ó dapnados para haberla. Et esta muerte atal que es llamada civil se departe en dos maneras: la una dellas es como si diesen juicio contra alguno para siempre que labrase las obras del rey, […] et este atal es llamado siervo de pena. La otra manera es quando destierran alguno para siempre […] et le toman demas todos sus bienes: et este atal es llamado en latin deportatus. Et por qualquier destas maneras sobredichas que es alguno judgado ó dapnado á esta muerte que es llamada civil, desátase por ella el poder que habie este atal sobre sus fijos, et salen por ende de su poder. Et como quier que el que es deportado non sea muerto naturalmiente, tienen las leyes que lo es quanto á la honra, et á la nobleza et á los fechos deste mundo: et por ende non puede facer testamento; et aun si lo hobiese ante fecho, non valdrie.21 The gravity of mors civilis – the penalty imposed upon the deportatus – becomes even more evident when compared to the punishment inflicted upon the relegatus and the banniti. Concerning the relegatus, the law states: Et este atal que es asi llamado, maguer semeja como desterrado, por todo eso non pierde el poder que ha sobre sus fijos nin sobre los otros sus bienes, nin pierde su nobleza nin su libertad, nin se le embarga por esta razon que non pueda facer testamento, nin debe haber otra pena por razon de tal desterramiento, fueras ende si quel que da la sentencia contra él le manda perder alguna cosa señaladamiente […] porque como quierque es judgado á esta pena, non es muerto civilmente, asi como deximos de los otros. (Partida IV,XVIII,III) 21 This is repeated in the laws pertaining to wills (Partida VI,I,XV and XVIII, and Partida VI,III,IV). These regulations are also found in the Fuero Real (III,V,VII,X) and in the Fuero Viejo, (V,IV,XIII). 352 Lacarra Lanz According to the law, the relegatus retains his patria potestas since he is not stripped of his nobiliary privileges, property, or right to dictate a will. This becomes even more evident in the case of the banniti. According to the Partidas, banniti are those accused of a crime who do not appear before the court at the established time, or those who refuse to make amends for the wrong they committed. In general, judges punish banniti by temporarily banishing them from the city in which they reside; however, if all their property is confiscated and they are permanently exiled from the kingdom, banniti then lose the patria potestas over their children: Et á las vegadas son contados entre los deportados, et á las vegadas entre los relegados; ca si son echados para siempre et les toman lo que han, son contados entre los deportados; et si son echados á tiempo et non para siempre, et non les toman lo que han, son contados entre los relegados. (Partida IV,XVIII,IV) The seriousness of the crime committed by the deportatus is evidenced by the fact that only the king or emperor have jurisdiction over it, whereas a crime committed by a relegatus, even if it is grave, could be adjudicated by a judge with jurisdiction to hear crimes punishable by death or amputation of a limb (Partida IV,XVIII,V). Crimes committed by a deportatus, which were already regulated in the Fuero Juzgo (X,II,VII), were punished with indefinite banishment and confiscation of property.22 This type of crime is also found in the fueros municipales wherein the criminal is referred to as encartado; in territorial codes such as the Fuero Viejo, however, the convict is referred to as echado de tierra, salido, or airado.23 Banishment was always the punishment for serious crimes that disturbed the peace of the city or the kingdom.24 In both cases, the penalties had personal and patrimonial consequences. Chief among the personal repercussions was infamy, which implied the loss of both civil and legal rights, and it placed the offender in a state of legal defenselessness: other members of the community were prohibited from helping him in any way, and they could even kill him with impunity if he was found in the kingdom after the established time of his departure.25 Permanent banishment from the city or the kingdom meant the loss of one’s family. Partida VI,I,XVIII, pertaining to 22 23 24 25 In the Latin version, Forum Iudicum, this law corresponds to XII,2,6 and the term deportatus is used. Orlandis, “Las consecuencias del delito”, pp. 61-165, especially pp. 125-39. Ibid, pp. 123-39. Ibid, pp. 126, 133-34. Legal Aspects of the Poema de mio Cid 353 wills, is very clear in this regard: it indicates that anyone who is exiled automatically loses his family, and, for that reason, any will that had previously been dictated would be declared null and void: quando alguno es desterrado para siempre […] quier le sean tomados todos sus bienes o non. E a este dizen en latin media capitis diminutio, que quier tanto dezir en romance, como mediado mudamiento del estado del ome. Ca por este pierde el ome la cibdad e la familia. The consequences of banishment on one’s patrimony were also very serious. Lands granted by the king and, in general, all the exile’s possessions – both moveable property and lands – were confiscated. According to Orlandis, “la responsabilidad debía recaer sin duda sobre los demás componentes de aquel grupo, esto es, la mujer y los hijos”. The Fuero Viejo (V,I,13) makes it clear that the exile’s wife shared joint financial responsibility. Heath Dillard points out the serious economic hardship faced by wives whose husbands were punished with total or partial banishment, and Orlandis concludes that total confiscation of property was the more frequent punishment.26 A common penalty for disturbing the peace was the demolition of one’s dwelling.27 To fully understand this punishment, one must keep in mind that the home had a special juridical meaning: owning a house not only was the foundation of civic privileges, but it also served as a personal safe haven. For that reason, the raid or razing of an offender’s home left him unprotected and at the mercy of attacks. The enfamamiento that Rodrigo Díaz suffers is a form of dishonor established by law and imposed through an explicit verdict (Partida VII,VI,V). This dishonor could be reversed “quando el Emperador, o el Rey perdonasse a alguno el yerro que oviesse fecho de que era enfamado: ca pierde por ende la mala fama” (Partida VII,VI,VI). Unlike the cases of dishonor established by law, dishonor brought on by one’s actions – nombradía mala – was independent from legislation and even from the good or bad conduct of a person. Since this form of dishonor was rooted in public opinion, it was irreparable: “despues que las lenguas de los omes han puesto mala nombradia sobre alguno non la pierde jamas maguer non la meresciesse” (Partida VII,VI,VI). Rodríguez Flores indicates that ill repute was so grave that the king even issued letters of pardon attempting to extinguish its effects, which were prolonged and 26 27 Orlandis, “Las consecuencias del delito”, pp. 127, 136-39, and 160; Dillard, Daughters of the Reconquest, pp. 86-90. Orlandis, “Las consecuencias del delito”, pp. 127-29 and notes 208-14. 354 Lacarra Lanz suffered by later generations.28 Of course, there was always the paradoxical case in which someone was dishonored in the eyes of the law, yet managed to preserve his good name and reputation among his fellow men. Such is the case of Rodrigo Díaz in the PMC. In effect, the Cid is legally dishonored as a result of the punishment he receives, yet his honor remains unscathed. In fact, his good name is reaffirmed in the famous exclamation collectively declared by the people of Burgos: “¡Dios, qué buen vassallo! ¡Si oviesse buen señor!” (v. 20). Their admiration for the Cid, however, does not imply any criticism of the monarch. On the contrary, the townsfolk’s conduct is irreproachable and consistent with the fear and obedience they were required to show their king according to the regulations in title XIII of Partida II: “Qual deue el pueblo ser en conoscer e en honrrar e en guardar al Rey”. According to these laws, fear and obedience are signs of amor, that is to say, the respect for the king that was expected of every vassal: Temor es cosa que se tiene con el amor que es verdadero, ca ningun ome non puede amar si non teme […] e le deuen temer como vassallos a señor, auiendo miedo de fazer tal yerro, porque ayan a perder su amor, e caer en pena. (Partida II,XIII,XV) Obediencia es cosa de que viene mucho bien, ca ella faze a los omes obedescer a sus Señores en todas cosas, assi como vasallos leales […] [ca] mostrarian que le conoscian, e le amauan, e le temían verdaderamente, porque merescen ser mucho amados e honrados. (Partida II,XIII,XVI) Returning to the PMC, the Cid’s legal status of deportatus is evident: he has been legally stripped of his honor, has been permanently exiled, his property has been confiscated, and he has lost the rights over his family.29 It is significant that the Cid’s weeping “de los ojos” underscores two moments at the start of his exile in which the punishment of mors civilis is manifested in its fullest intensity: first, when he verifies the expropriation and raid of his house (vv. 1-5), and second, after losing his family, when he bids farewell to his wife and 28 29 Rodríguez Flores, El perdón real en Castilla, Appendix of Documents, II, p. 243. Lacarra, El Poema de mio Cid: realidad histórica e ideología, pp. 8-32, and “La representación del rey Alfonso”, pp. 183-95, as well as Orlandis, “Las consecuencias del delito”, pp. 135-36 and note 230, argue that confiscation of the Cid’s property is in keeping with what customarily occurred in such cases when someone had been stripped of the patria potestas; Morros, “Problemas del Cantar de Mio Cid”, pp. 530-32, and Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid, p. 387, reject this idea. Legal Aspects of the Poema de mio Cid 355 daughters (vv. 227, 373). The accusation of disturbing the peace is evidenced by the king’s orders that forbid the people of Burgos from sheltering or aiding the Cid (vv. 22-25, 43-44, 62-64); also by his state of legal defenselessness that endangers his life if he does not leave Castile within the established period (vv. 308-10). Both Rodrigo and Jimena understand the legal consequences of his civil death, that is to say, they are both aware that the Cid’s banishment is indefinite, and it may endure as long as he lives. The hero alludes to his uncertain future as he leaves Burgos – “D’aquí quito Castiella pues que el rey he en ira / non sé si entraré ý mas en todos los mios días” (vv. 219- 20) – and he and his wife later reiterate this reality at Cardeña. First, Jimena says, “Yo lo veo que estades vós en ida/ e nós de vós partir nos hemos en vida” (vv. 271-72), and Rodrigo then utters, “Ya lo vedes que partir nos emos en vida, / yo iré e vós fincaredes remanida” (vv. 280-81). Within this context, Jimena’s prayer takes on a special meaning. It contains elements of the Ordo infirmorum and the Ordo commendationis animae – both of which are particular to the liturgy of the dying and of the sacrament of extreme unction, and thus serve to underscore the gravity of the Cid’s mors civilis.30 Nevertheless, in the profound sadness that pervades the scene in which the Cid separates from his family lays the foundation for his final vindication, that is to say, what could be called Rodrigo’s resurrection to civilian life. The Cid’s civil death – the punishment for disturbing the peace –, the subsequent “resurrection” that occurs after the hero recuperates the king’s love, the final apotheosis of his lineage, and his natural death on Pentecost may reinforce Burke’s arguments.31 In effect, the Cid’s initial optimism when faced with the implications of his punishment – “¡Albriçia, Albar Fáñez, ca echados somos de tierra!” (v. 14) – establishes a connection between this verse and the notion of the felix culpa in the Paschal liturgy, wherein the expulsion from Paradise produces the benefit of resurrection, an idea that is reiterated in the Cid’s promise to serve his wife and personally arrange the marriages of his daughters.32 Naturally, this hope is predicated on the mutual trust between the Cid and King Alfonso; only with the monarch’s forgiveness can the hero recuperate the royal love, that is to say, to be forgiven and have all his rights, privileges, and possessions, including his patria potestas, reinstated. It is impossible for the Cid to keep his promise and personally arrange the marriages of his daughters without having regained the authority over his family. His words, therefore, 30 31 32 Russell, Temas de "La Celestina" y otros estudios, pp. 115-58; Smith, La creación, pp. 206-07; Gimeno Casalduero, El misterio, pp. 135-49. Burke, Structures from the Trivium, pp. 123, 135, 164-65. Ibid, pp. 96-100. 356 Lacarra Lanz must not be interpreted only as a sign of his paternal love, which indeed they are, but also within a legal context. At the same time, the famous line “así’s parten unos d’otros commo la uña de la carne” (v. 375) seems to have a rather profound meaning and is not merely an expression of the pain of separation.33 A nail coming away from flesh conveys the idea of division, alludes to the forced dissolution of the family unity, and suggests the rupture of the bond uniting Rodrigo and Jimena. As husband and wife, they are one flesh according to Genesis (2:24) – “Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and they shall become one flesh” – a notion repeated in Matthew (19:5-6), and Paul (Ephesians: 5:31), which later was integrated into the liturgy of marriage. I believe this allusion is meaningful: the objective of Rodrigo and Jimena’s encounter at the Monastery of Cardeña is to show that despite the adverse circumstances and unavoidable separation in life, Rodrigo and Jimena remain united by marital bonds, even in this extreme case in which living together – a defining element of marriage – is no longer possible.34 When Jimena reenacts the marriage rite by kneeling before Rodrigo and kissing his hands (vv. 264-65), she manifests the loyalty and respect that, as a wife, she owed her husband. Rodrigo, in turn, reveals his affection and loyalty to Jimena by expressing his strong desire to recuperate his rights so he can fulfill his paternal and familial duties.35 Rodrigo and Jimena’s words and gestures reaffirm their mutual consent, the affectio maritalis, and, as a result, the indissolubility of their union.36 In the Middle Ages – as in Roman law – the expression of affectio maritalis had become interchangeable with consensus.37 Through these signs of affection, the author of the PMC makes it clear that the marital bond uniting Rodrigo and Jimena continues to be strong. These expressions are found in cartas de arras, such as a document dated in 1075 originating from Asturias: “Ut te in coniugio copularem sociam […] obinde propter amorem, honorem dulcedinis tuae et 33 34 35 36 37 Smith, “Further French Analogues and Sources for the Poema de mio Cid”, notes the similarity between this farewell and Parise’s separation from her husband in Parise la duchesse, vv. 773 and following. Gaudemet, Le mariage en Occident, p. 165, points out that according to Gratian (De matrimonio, C. 27, q.2), living together is the essence of marital union. Duby, El caballero, la mujer y el cura, pp. 129-30 and 180-81. Núñez Paz, Consentimiento matrimonial, pp. 55-82; Noonan, “Marital Affection in the Canonists”, pp. 479-510; and Brundage, Law, Sex, and Christian Society in Medieval Europe, pp. 297-98. These scholars indicate that the presence of affection, according to the decretists, distinguished marital union from fornication. Rudolf Weigand, “Liebe und Ehe bei den Dekretisten des 12. Jahrhunderts”, p. 42. Legal Aspects of the Poema de mio Cid 357 pro coniugalis gratiam et pro feder conligando dono in hunc dotis titulum”.38 For these reasons, the Cid’s manifestations to Jimena (vv. 278-84) should not be reduced to a mere sign of courtly gallantry.39 Another key aspect of this episode is that it serves as a counterpoint to the Afrenta de Corpes, where the Infantes of Carrión revoke – through their vile and violent acts – the consent and affectio maritalis they had previously given to their wives at their weddings. 6 The Royal Pardon The royal pardon was not exactly an act of justice, but rather a manifestation of the king’s grace.40 The law clearly establishes three reasons why the king could grant his pardon: mercy, compassion, or favor: Se mueue con piedad de si mismo a perdonar a alguno la pena que deuia auer, doliendose del, viendole cuytado, o mal andante: o por piedad que ha de sus fijos, e de su compaña. Merced es perdón que el Rey faze a otro por merescimiento de seruicio que le fizo aquel a quien perdona […] e es como manera de gualardon; por gracia: es don que faze el Rey a algunos que con derecho se puede escusar de lo fazer, si quisiere. (Partida VII,XXXII,III) Granting royal pardon was an arbitrary act exercised by the monarch that depended on the king’s will, not on the conduct of the offender. However, both the legislation and legal practices indicate that the convict’s merits could make him worthy of the king’s grace – even if it was not decisive – especially in those cases wherein the offender had rendered considerable services to the crown. Partidas III,XVIII,XLIX and III,XVIII,LI stipulate that the king could grant his grace “por merecimiento de seruicio que aya alguno fecho, o por bondad que aya en si”, except in the case of someone convicted of treason (against the king or the kingdom) or alevosía (treason against a member of the nobility) (Partida III,XXIV,IV). The king could also forgive: algunos yrados por recebir dellos grandes seruicios, que sean a pro del, e del Reyno por ruego de algund perlado o de rico ome, o […] por seruicio 38 39 40 Leclercq, Monks on Marriage. A Twelfth Century View, p. 115, note 23. For additional examples, see pp. 3-6, and Duby, El caballero, la mujer y el cura, p. 85. With respect to this matter, I disagree with Gimeno Casalduero, El misterio, pp. 179-80. Rodríguez Flores, El perdón real en Castilla, pp. 11-17 and 191-201. 358 Lacarra Lanz que oviessese fecho a él […] o por grand esfuerço que oviessen en el, de que pudiesse a la tierra venir algund bien, o por alguna razón semejante destas: e por atales perdones como estos non ha otro poder de los fazer sinon el rey. (Partida III,XVIII,XLIX) Regarding the actual petition for the king’s forgiveness, the Partidas stipulate that “omildosamente fincados los ynojos e con pocas palabras deuen pedir merced al Rey los que la han menester” (Partida III,XXIV,III). When an airado incurred the king’s malquerencia (ill will), he had to beg the monarch for mercy: Apartadamente en poridad […] e si non gelo quisiesse caber, deuel pedir merced la segunda vez ante vno, o ante dos de la compaña del Rey. E si acaesciesse que non gelo quisiesse otorgar, puedele pedir merced la tercera vegada por corte. (Partida IV,XXV,X) Once the airado was in exile, others could intercede on his behalf and beseech the king for forgiveness (Partida VII,XXXII,I). 7 The Royal Pardon in the Poema de mio Cid Rodrigo regains King Alfonso’s love in accordance with the stipulations detailed in the Partidas. During the first embassy, Álvar Fáñez kisses the king’s hands and feet on behalf of his lord, and he begs him to show mercy on the Cid: ¡Mio Çid Ruy Díaz de Dios aya su graçia! (870) A vós rey ondrado enbía esta presentaja, bésavos los pies e las manos amas, quel’ay[a]des merçed si el Criador vos vala. (878-80) During the second embassy, Álvar Fáñez beseeches King Alfonso to forgive the Cid with great humility: Afé Minaya Álbar Fáñez, dó llega tan apuesto, fincó sos inojos ante tod’ el pueblo, a los pies del rey Alfonsso cayó con grand duelo, besávale las manos e fabló tan apuesto: “¡Merçed, señor Alfonsso, por amor del Criador! Legal Aspects of the Poema de mio Cid 359 Besávavos las manos mío Çid lidiador, los pies e las manos como a tan buen señor, quel’ ayades merçed, si vos vala el Criador. Echástesle de tierra, non ha la vuestra amor, mager en tierra agena, él bien faze lo so”. (1317-26) Grandes son las ganançias que’l dio el Criador, fevos aquí las señas, verdad vos digo yo: çient cavallos gruessos e corredores, de siellas e de frenos todos guarnidos son, bésavos las manos e que los prendades vós; razonas’ por vuestro vassallo e a vós tiene por señor. (1334-39) Álvar Fáñez and Pero Vermúdez make the third and final plea for forgiveness before the king and his entire court: Minaya e Per Vermúez adelante son llegados, firiéronse a tierra deçendieron de los cavallos, ante’l rey Alfonsso los inojos fincados, besan la tierra e los pies amos: “¡Merçed rey Alfonsso, sodes tan ondrado! Por mio Çid el Campeador todo esto vos besamos a vós llama por señor, e tiénes’ por vuestro vassallo, mucho preçia la ondra el Çid quel’avedes dado. Pocos días ha, rey, que una lid á arrancado a aquel rey de Marruecos, Yuçef por nombrado, con çinquaenta mill arrancólos del campo; las ganançias que fizo mucho son sobejanas, ricos son venidos todos los sos vassallos, e embíavos dozientos cavallos e bésavos las manos”. (1841-54) Each embassy is comprised of three parts: the offering of gifts, the enumeration of military victories, and the request for the king’s favor, accompanied by the ritualistic kissing of the king’s hands and feet as required by law (Partida III,XXIV,III). The gradual reconciliation between the king and Rodrigo becomes apparent in the intensity of the proof of loyalty. King Alfonso’s responses are similarly structured around three elements: acceptance of the Cid’s gifts, acknowledgement of his accomplishments, and offering the service of men to 360 Lacarra Lanz help the Cid conquer Valencia.41 King Alfonso underscores the delight with which he accepts the Cid’s gifts considering they are spoils won from the Moors; he shows his admiration of, and satisfaction with, the Cid for having won the plunder; and immediately manifests that he is willing to grant favors only he can bestow. During the first embassy, Alfonso grants the royal pardon to those who left Castile with Rodrigo and allows his own vassals to join the Cid’s retinue if they wish. By providing this military aid, the king contributes to Rodrigo’s conquests, which he evidently considers to be important services to the crown. During the second embassy, King Alfonso grants the Cid’s request and allows his wife and daughters to join him in Valencia. It is significant that the king allows the family to be reunited because it signals the restoration of the Cid’s patria potestas and augurs his forthcoming pardon. In effect, the king decides to forgive Rodrigo after the third embassy (vv. 1897-99). King Alfonso notifies Álvar Fáñez and Pero Vermúdez in private of his decision to forgive the Cid, who is now deserving of the royal love because of his merits and the services he has performed on behalf of the crown (vv. 1897-99). To honor Rodrigo, the king allows him to choose where the vistas will take place (vv. 1910-12). The Cid decides that this solemn meeting should be held on the shore of the Tagus River, and soon, King Alfonso and the Cid – along with their respective retinues – make their way to the meeting place. Their encounter is extraordinary, and Rodrigo requests the king’s forgiveness with great humility: De un día es llegado antes el rey don Alfonsso. Quando vieron que vinié el buen Campeador reçebirlo salen con tan grand onor. Dón lo ovo a ojo el que en buen ora nasco, a todos los sos estar los mandó, si non a estos cavalleros que querié de coraçón; con unos XV a tierras’ firió, como lo comidía el que en buen ora naçió, los inojos e las manos en tierra los fincó, las yerbas del campo a dientes las tomó, llorando de los ojos tanto avié el gozo mayor, así sabe dar omildança a Alfonsso so señor. De aquesta guisa a los pies le cayó. 41 Joseph Duggan has written skillfully about the exchange of gifts in the PMC; however, I do not agree with his conclusions. The gifts the Cid sends to King Alfonso follow what was established by law. The king accepts them and responds to Rodrigo very generously. Legal Aspects of the Poema de mio Cid 361 Tan grand pesar ovo el rey don Alfonsso: “¡Levantados en pie, ya Çid Campeador! besad las manos, ca los pies no; si esto non feches, non avredes mi amor”. Hinojos fitos sedié el Campeador: “¡Merçed vos pido a vós, mio natural señor,42 assí estando dédesme vuestra amor, Que lo oyan quantos aquí son!” Dixo el rey: “Esto feré d’alma e de coraçón! Aquí vos perdono e dovos mi amor, En todo mio reino parte desde oy”. Fabló mio Çid e dixo merçed: “Yo lo reçibo, Alfonsso mio señor; gradéscolo a Dios del çielo e después a vós, e a estas mesnadas que están a derredor”. Hinojos fitos las manos le besó, Levós’ en pie e en la bocal’ saludó. (2013-40) The royal pardon is granted with great ceremony. The retinues of both King Alfonso and the Cid wear their finery. Forming part of the king’s entourage are the most prominent ricos hombres from Castile, León, and Galicia, as well as their respective retinues. They wear cloaks and furs, and have gold and silverplated shields; they also flaunt silk pennants and ride their best horses. The Cid’s retinue is every bit their equal. Rodrigo leaves Valencia with Bishop Jerónimo and the ricos hombres who accompanied him throughout his exile. They, too, are dressed in their best cloaks and furs, and ride the best chargers and palfreys. They are wearing colored clothing. As prescribed by law, the Cid manifests his humility by kneeling while he is forgiven by the king, and in the presence of the entire court King Alfonso restores Rodrigo’s honor and grants him his royal love. 8 Extraordinary Cortes It was an exclusive royal privilege to convoke the cortes, an institution that attended to matters of justice and governance of the kingdom.43 The extra42 43 I disagree with Bautista’s political interpretation in “Como a señor natural: Interpretaciones políticas”. Guglielmi, “La curia regia en León y Castilla” II, p. 66. 362 Lacarra Lanz ordinary cortes were comprised of noblemen – whose attendance was mandatory on pain of incurring the ira regia – as well as members of the ecclesiastical hierarchy. Disputes among members of the nobility were generally settled in ordinary cortes; however, as we can see in the PMC, extraordinary cortes were occasionally convoked on behalf of a rico hombre the king wanted to help or honor.44 9 Extraordinary Cortes in the Poema de mio Cid The Cortes of Toledo deals with the Cid’s dispute with the Infantes of Carrión at two levels: civil and penal. Everything related to the return of the Cid’s property is part of the civil case, whereas the Afrenta de Corpes pertains to the sphere of penal law. The Cid, who has been affronted by the Infantes of Carrión, sends Muño Gústioz to the king’s court to request that King Alfonso administer justice and convoke vistas, juntas, or cortes. The king, who is distressed over the news (“Verdad te digo yo, que me pesa de coraçón”, v. 2954), resolves to convene extraordinary cortes in Toledo:45 “Por el amor de myo Çid el que en buen ora naçió / que reçiba derecho de ifantes de Carrión” (vv. 3132-33). In keeping with the law, the king establishes the time and place where the cortes shall take place, and he dispatches his porteros (royal messengers) to León and Santiago, as well as to the Portuguese, the Galicians, the people of Carrión, and the Castilians, who are all advised to be in Toledo for the cortes that will be held in seven weeks’ time (vv. 2962-84). In attendance at the cortes of Toledo are nobles, iurisperitos or sabidores (legal experts) from both camps – including the Cid’s legal expert, Malanda, (v. 3070) –, and Bishop Jerónimo. King Alfonso is seated on the bench of honor and he invites the Cid to sit next to him, but Rodrigo humbly declines the honor and takes a seat among his men. The other nobles sit in hierarchical order and divided into two groups. The king designates an indeterminate number of judges and instructs them to render a judgment in accordance with the law; he also warns all those present to keep the peace if they wish to avoid his wrath and be banished from the kingdom: Todos meted í mientes, ca sodes coñosçedores, Por escoger el derecho, ca tuerto non mando yo. 44 45 Lacarra, El Poema de mio Cid: realidad histórica e ideología, pp. 65-77. Menéndez Pidal, Cantar de Mio Cid, II, p. 600, points out that it is only an extraordinary cortes in part since the ecclesiastical hierarchy is not present. Legal Aspects of the Poema de mio Cid 363 D’ella e d’ella part en paz seamos oy. Juro par Sant Esidro, el que bolviere mi cort quitarme á el reino, perderá mi amor. Con el que toviere derecho, yo dessa parte me só. (3137-42) 10 The Civil Suit in the Poema de mio Cid The civil suit begins when King Alfonso gives the floor to the Cid, who rises from his seat and thanks the monarch who, out of love for him, convened an extraordinary curia. In this case, the Cid focuses his claim exclusively on the gifts he gave to the Infantes, since their return was a matter in dispute. Rodrigo accuses the Infantes of abandoning his daughters and dissolving their marriage. Consequently, he argues that they are no longer his sons-in-law and demands that the Infantes return the swords he had given them. The Infantes concede to this demand, the judges rule in favor of the Cid, and the king confirms the sentence. Rodrigo stands up again and, using the same line of reasoning, presents a second claim: since the Infantes are no longer his sonsin-law, they are to give back the three thousand marks of gold and silver they had been given. The Infantes claim that Rodrigo has committed an error in procedure, arguing that he should have presented one claim for both demands and, therefore, refuse to return the money. The judges advise the king to reject this argument, which he does. The Infantes lose the case and are obliged to repay the three thousand marks in kind, since they had already spent them. This lawsuit presented by the Cid coincides with the provisions included in the Fuero Juzgo stipulating how property is to be divided in cases of divorce: é si el marido lexa la moyér con tuerto, debe la moyer haber las arras quel’ diera: e el non debe haber nada de las cosas de la moyér. É si alguna cosa le había tornado, o levado, todo lo entregue à la moyér. (Fuero Juzgo, III,VI,I) Rodrigo does not broach the return of the arras, reasoning that since King Alfonso was the one who married his daughters to the Infantes, he is responsible for requesting them. 364 11 Lacarra Lanz The Penal Suit and the Riepto The legal nature of the riepto has been heavily debated. Whereas Cabral de Moncada considered it a vindicatory legal process,46 Menéndez Pidal asserted that it was a trial by ordeal or a trial by God.47 Otero Varela observed that there was a change in the original vindicatory nature of the riepto between nobles, since it evolved from private vengeance.48 López Ortiz, however, pointed out that it derived from the concord among nobles manifested in the Riepto de los Hidalgos as a legal solution to the cases of treason and aleve, and that it was regulated by territorial, not municipal laws.49 Colmeiro was one of the earliest, if not the first, legal historian to have considered the Ordenamiento de Nájera as the origin of the knight’s riepto; believing that King Alfonso VII convoked the Cortes of Nájera, he dated the Ordenamiento to 1138.50 Today, we know that it was Alfonso VIII, not Alfonso VII, who convoked the Cortes of Nájera in 1184 or 1185, and it was he who enacted the regulations of the Ordenamiento de Nájera establishing the concord or peace among nobles.51 In the same cortes, the king also ordered “que ningún eredamiento de rey que non corra a los fidalgos nin a monesterio ninguno, nin lo dellos al rey”.52 Both decrees point to the reception of Roman law as well as to the start of a policy of centralization, detectable in legal concepts related to rieptos and royal properties. Despite not knowing with certainty the date of the Cortes of Nájera, López Ortiz recognized more than sixty years ago that the distinction between civil and penal law by King Alfonso VIII at the Cortes of Nájera and in the Fuero de Cuenca was an important intervention of royal power.53 Regarding the provisions pertaining to the riepto in municipal fueros, Montaner Frutos provides an excellent analysis in “Acusar y defender en la Edad Media”.54 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 In “O duelo na vida do direito”, Cabral de Moncada associates the duel with the riepto and considers it as a primitive form of private justice (pp. 214-15). Menéndez Pidal, En torno al “Poema del Cid”, pp. 85-90. Otero Varela, “El riepto de los fueros municipales”, p. 157, and Dos estudios histórico-jurídicos, pp. 79-80. López Ortiz, “El proceso en los reinos cristianos”, pp. 88-89. Colmeiro, El derecho político de León y de Castilla, p. 355. González, “Sobre las fechas de las Cortes de Nájera”; Grassotti, “El recuerdo de las Cortes de Nájera”, p. 255; Zaderenko, “El procedimiento judicial de riepto”. González, “Sobre las fechas de las Cortes de Nájera”, p. 357. López Ortiz, “El proceso en los reinos cristianos”, pp. 189-90. Montaner Frutos also analyzes matters related to slander and infamy in legislation and the PMC (“Acusar y defender en la Edad Media”, pp. 266-71). Legal Aspects of the Poema de mio Cid 365 The riepto was established as a legal solution to the problems of treason and aleve among nobles who attacked each other’s honra and honor; some form of verbal or physical slander was at the heart of the attack. In the Fuero Real (IV,XXI,VI), the provisions pertaining to the riepto stipulate that the challenge must take place before the king and in the presence of at least twelve knights.55 The challenging party must appear before the king and state the reasons why he wants to issue his challenge: Diga el fecho porque le riepta, é dígale que es ende alevoso, é que gelo fara decir, ó le matará, o le porná fuera del plazo: é si gelo quisiere probar por testigos ó por carta ó por pesquisa del Rey, digagelo, y el reptado digale que miente; é si quisiera combatir dígalo, é si no quisiere combatir, diga que fará quanto el Rey mandare, é su corte. If the challenged party believes that his actions do not constitute alevosía, he can refute the accusation, request justice from the king, and refuse to accept the challenge (Fuero Real, IV,XXI,VII), since the accused decides if he wishes to participate in the judicial duel and the king cannot oblige him to do it (Fuero Real, IV,XXI,VIII). The king establishes the conditions of the duel, decides the time and place of the combat, and determines the weapons with which the contenders will fight. In the event that both parties agree to participate in the judicial duel, they must observe the established truce (Fuero Real, IV,XXI,XVIII). Once the date has been determined, the fieles or judges delineate the field while ensuring that the glare of the sun does not blind either of the combatants, verify that the contenders are using proper weapons, mark the boundaries of the field with stones, and explain the rules of combat to both participants (Fuero Real, IV,XXI,IX). A rico hombre can also designate a substitute equal in rank to the reptado. In such a case, there are several concrete rules: Quando un home poderoso ficiere á otro de menor poder ó de menos guisa caso que caiga en aleve, puedagelo decir; y el poderoso si quisiere embargargelo, puedalo facer, ó darle su par; mas el que riepta no puede 55 There is some discussion about the date of the Fuero Real. Iglesia Ferreirós, “Fuero Real y Espéculo”, p. 156, indicates that Alfonso X put the code into effect in Sahagún and Aguilar De Campóo in early 1255; therefore, he argues that it may have been compiled around 1249, when Alfonso was still an Infante. Martínez Díez, “Análisis crítico del Fuero Real”, p. 103, believes that it dates to sometime before 1252, the year in which Alfonso took the throne. 366 Lacarra Lanz dar par al reptado, si el reptado no quisiere: é quando par fuere a dar debe ser partido bien el linage que sea par en él, tambien como en bondad, y en casamiento y en señorio y en fuerza; ca no es igualdad un home muy valiente combatirse con home de pequeña fuerza; y é si el que ha de dar par diere home que vala mas por linaje, ó por otras cosas, en tal que no sea mas valiente, que se quiera facer par del otro, no le puede desechar (Fuero Real, IV,XXI,XXI). Alfonso X included this statute in Title IV of Partida VII, although some clarifications are occasionally incorporated. For example, this occurs in Law III of the same Partida, which corresponds to Law XXI of the Fuero Real. King Alfonso X eliminates the requirement that the substitute and the challenging party must be equal “en casamiento”, and adds that both men, in addition to being equal in lineage and character, must be of the same social rank. The monarch also specifies that if the substitute “vale más por linaje o por otras cosas, en tal que no sea más valiente […] non lo puede desechar”. Partida VII also adds several laws concerning menos valer that are not included in the Fuero Real and are of interest when analyzing the Poema. The Proemio of title V designates the person accused of menos valer as profazado – that is to say, enfamado: por quantas maneras pueden caer en este profaçamiento. E quien gelo puede decir, después que lo fizieren. E en que lugares y ante de quien. E que escarmiento deue ser fecho después que fuere prouado. The first law, which is entitled “Que cosa es menos valer”, explains that menos valer means that someone “non es par de otro en corte de señor nin en juyzio”. This same law details the consequences of incurring menos valer, namely, no longer being considered equal to others in a judicial combat, and being deprived of the ability to make a formal accusation or to bear witness. The second statute makes it clear that nobles are liable to menos valer for retracting an oath or homage, and it indicates that although these nobles are not punished as in cases of treason or aleve, the law considers them to be similar to those who incur enfamamiento because they are stripped of their honor and are like enfamados. The third law deals with who can make accusations against them, where this can take place, and the nature of the punishments imposed. The law stipulates that anyone who does not incur menos valer or not declared enfamado in a riepto can make an accusation before the king or the judges of his court. The punishments imposed on someone who incurs menos valer are Legal Aspects of the Poema de mio Cid 367 “no biuir entre los omes, e ser desechados e non auer parte en las honrras, e en los oficios que han los otros comunalmente”. 12 The Riepto in the Poema de mio Cid Once the civil suit has concluded, the Cid addresses the king and everyone gathered in the court, and he presents the criminal suit: ¡Merçed, [ya] rey señor, por amor de caridad! La rencura mayor non se me puede olbidar, oídme toda la cort e pésevevos de mio mal: de los ifantes de Carrión quem’desondraron tan mal, a menos de riebtos no los puedo dexar. (3253-57) The reasons prompting the Infantes of Carrión to take private vengeance – carried out in the Corpes oak forest – are rooted in the episode of the lion: terrified, the Infantes act with cowardice; one hides beneath the Cid’s bench and the other takes cover behind a wine press. After everyone is out of danger, the Cid asks for his sons-in-law; they reappear pale and dirty, and soon become the butt of the knights’ derision and laughter. Although the Cid prohibits his men from mocking the Infantes, they are nevertheless offended:56 Muchos’ tovieron por enbaídos los ifantes de Carrión; Fiera cosa les pesa d’esto que les cuntió. (2309-10) Legally, the Infantes could have demanded reparation for the insult through a legal challenge,57 but they do not. When the Cid’s knights mock the Infantes’ cowardice in the battle with Bucar a second time, the brothers resort to private vengeance. The Infantes surely feared that the Cid would discover not only the truth about their cowardice but that Fernando had fled from battle, since anyone who dodged battle or abandoned the battlefield could be punished by the law: Vassallos de mio Çid seyénse sonrisando, quién lidiara mejor o quién fuera en alcanço, mas non fallavan ý a Diego ni a Ferrando. 56 57 Lacarra, El Poema de mio Cid: realidad histórica e ideología, pp. 84-85. Menéndez Pidal, Cantar de Mio Cid, II, pp. 637-38; Lacarra de Miguel, “Documento para la historia de las instituciones navarras”, pp. 496-97. 368 Lacarra Lanz Por aquestos guegos que ivan levantando, e las noches e los días tan mal los escarmentando, tan mal se consejaron estos ifantes amos. (2532-37) The formal accusation made before the king, which leads to the riepto in the Cortes of Toledo, is the breach of peace. The Cid denounces the Infantes because they had not previously declared themselves as his enemies – a requirement of the concord among knights – and they covertly planned their vengeance: “Pidamos nuestras mugieres al Çid Campeador, digamos que las levaremos a tierras de Carrión, enseñar las hemos dó las heredades son, sacarlas hemos de Valençia de poder del Campeador; después en la carrera feremos nuestro sabor, ante que nos retrayan lo que cuntió del león. ¡Nos de natura somos de condes de Carrión! Averes levaremos grandes que valen grant valor, escarniremos las fijas del Canpeador. D’aquestos averes sienpre seremos ricos omnes, Podremos casar con fijas de reyes o de enperadores, Ca de natura somos de condes de Carrión. Assí las escarniremos a las fijas del Campeador, Antes que nos retrayan lo que fue del león”. Con aqueste conssejo amos tornados son. (2543-56) These verses contain the characteristic elements of premeditated deceit: animus iniurandi, superbia, and dolo.58 The Infantes, who are characterized by their cowardice, take vengeance on the Cid by verbally and physically dishonoring his daughters. The crimes they commit are enumerated in full detail in the Fuero de Cuenca: acts that are considered injuria include plaga (open-handed slapping), vulnera (the causing of scars, sores, or wounds), staining one’s face or 58 Hinojosa, Documentos para la historia de las instituciones de León y Castilla, pp 35-36, never says that insulting someone cum superbia meant that the insult had to occur in the presence of a noble or important person, as Pavlović argues in “A reappraisal of the closing scenes of the Poema de Mio Cid”, p. 15. Pavlović quotes Serra Ruiz, p. 37 (the correct page is 84), who quotes Hinojosa, yet neither of them reaches that conclusion. Serra Ruiz, in Honor, honra e injuria, p. 81, points out that “se habla de ‘iniuriis’ en general y se matiza algo el elemento subjetivo, explicando someramente el móvil personal del agente (iniuriare ‘cum superbia’)”. Legal Aspects of the Poema de mio Cid 369 head, despoiling clothing, pulling one’s hair, grabbing one’s person, shoving, or stomping on a person. After the promulgation of the Fuero de Cuenca, women became a legal entity and, for the first time, dishonorable acts committed against them – pulling them by the hair, stripping them of their clothing, throwing them to the floor, shoving them, etc. – were punished.59 Sticks, stones, riding whips, spurs, and any weapon made of iron, among others, were declared illicit arms.60 The most common expression to describe the animus iniurandi is the commission of a crime cum superbia. The terms most frequently accompanying this type of dishonorable conduct are: iniustamente, per sanna, per superbia, per menosprez o per escarnio.61 In the PMC, the Infantes dishonor their wives: first, they strip the women of their clothes and then hit them with saddle straps and spurs. The aggravating circumstance of this attack is the fact that the weapons they use were prohibited by law.62 The shedding of blood qualifies this act as injuria and lesión.63 The coldness with which the Infantes plan and carry out this affront undermines the mitigating element of rage, which would have been required for the crime to be considered an unpremeditated act of vengeance. At the conclusion of their terror spree, the Infantes abandon their wives in Corpes and leave them for dead. The Cid bases his legal challenge on the menos valer of the Infantes: “Por quanto les faziestes menos valedes vos”.64 García Ordóñez initiates the Infantes’ defense by arguing the inequality of the marriages and alleging that the brothers never should have wed the Cid’s daughters.65 Rodrigo refuses to stoop to their level in order to challenge these allegations; rather, his tactic is to discredit García Ordóñez’s testimony by demonstrating to the court that he is a dishonorable man who lacks authority and, since he is enfamado, he is unable to bear witness. In the presence of the entire court, the Cid remembers that, upon taking Cabra, he was never challenged for pulling the Count’s beard, which has ceased to grow ever since. Pulling a man’s beard was one of the most 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 Fuero de Cuenca, II.I, pp. 20-28. Fuero de Cuenca, II,II, p. 18; Serra Ruiz, Honor, honra e injuria, pp. 243 and 254. Serra Ruiz, Honor, honra e injuria, p. 249; he quotes the fueros of Fresno and Cetina. Fuero de Cuenca, II,II, p. 18. Fuero de Cuenca, II,I, pp. 19-42. Hinojosa, “El derecho en el Poema del Cid” p. 203, believes that although the Cid presents the charges before the king and the court, he does not pronounce the essential formulas of the riepto, since he never refers to the Infantes as traidores or alevosos. Sanz analyzes how García Ordóñez and the Infantes conduct themselves during the defense (“La voz del defensor”, pp. 373-78). 370 Lacarra Lanz severely punished offenses in the fueros, and its punishment was comparable to the penalty imposed in cases of castration.66 García Ordóñez should have challenged the Cid in order to preserve his honor, and because he did not dare to do so, he is dishonored and his arguments are rejected. The Infantes then initiate their own defense by reiterating what García Ordóñez had previously alleged with respect to their marriages. They declare that they dishonored their wives a derecho (according to the law), arguing that they are superior in rank to the Cid’s daughters. Neither Pero Vermúdez nor Martín Antolínez waste time responding to their assertions. Pero Vermúdez accuses Fernando of cowardice, reminding him of how scared he was when the lion escaped from its cage. He denounces his flight from battle, accuses him of menos valer, and challenges him as malo and traidor: ¿Miémbrat’ quando lidiamos çerca Valençia la grand? Pedist’ las feridas primeras al Campeador leal, vist’ un moro, fustel’ ensayar; antes fuxiste que a [é]l te allegasses si yo non uvias el moro te jugara mal. (3316-19) riebtot’ el cuerpo por malo e por traidor, Esto t’ lidiaré aquí ant’ el rey don Alfonsso, por fijas del Çid, don Elvira e doña Sol. Por quanto las dexastes menos valedes vos (3343-46) Quando fuere la lid si plogiere al Criador, tú lo otorgarás a guisa de traidor. (3349-50) The Infante Diego then intervenes; his argument is similar to his brother’s, only adding that he is willing to fight to defend his assertions. Martín Antolínez responds accusing Diego of being alevoso and a traidor, and he reminds him of his conduct during the episode with the lion. He also alleges that the Cid’s daughters are, in fact, better than the Infantes, which will be proven in the judicial duel since Diego is a traitor and a liar. The Infantes’ older brother, Asur 66 Forum Conche, Chapter XII, Law XVI stipulates: “Quicumque alium hominem castrauerit, pectet ducentos aureos, et exeat inimicus. Si negauerit salvet se cum duodecim uicines, uel pugnet.” Chapter XII, Law XVIII indicates: “Quicumque alicui barbam depilauerit: pectet ducentos aureos, et exeat inimicus, si querelosus firmare potuerit: sin autem, saluet se cum duodecim uicines, et si creditus, vel respondeat suo pari”. Legal Aspects of the Poema de mio Cid 371 González, stands up and insults the Cid. Muño Gústioz responds and accuses him of being alevoso and traidor. Once the allegations have been made, the king declares that the three pairs of contenders are to participate in the judicial combats and warns that whoever does not arrive within the established timeframe will be declared vanquished and a traitor. The judicial duels take place at the agreed upon time. The boundaries of the field are marked and the king names the field judges, instructing them to issue the verdict in accordance with the law. There are three simultaneous duels. First, Fernando declares himself defeated. Diego leaves the boundaries of the field; the king then declares Martín Antolínez the victor and the judges concur with his ruling. Muño Gústioz fatally wounds Asur González, and at the request of the Infantes’ father the judicial duel is halted with the judges’ consent. The Infantes are defeated and dishonored: “Grant es la biltança de ifantes de Carrión” (v. 3705). Thus, the poet undermines the assertions made by the Infantes’ bando, while underscoring that the Cid’s daughters are, in fact, better than the Infantes. Moreover, since Doña Elvira and Doña Sol were married by law, they have a right to the arras: “¡Agora las ayan quitas heredades de Carrión!” (v. 3715). 13 Conclusions This study has shown that the poet who composed the PMC had a profound knowledge of the law. By presenting the fundamental conflict between private law – which is defended by the Infantes of Carrión – and public law – supported by the Cid – the poet shows the supreme power of the crown represented by King Alfonso. The poem, which is in line with the new concept of public law, favors the king’s authority over the power wielded by the nobility. It underscores that public law administered by the monarch is the best way to preserve justice, peace among the nobility, and social and political harmony. This notion was first affirmed in the final third of the 12th century, when European monarchies, influenced by Roman law, attempted to centralize legislation as the means to lay the foundation for their royal authority. In Castile, this influence is manifested in both municipal and territorial legislation. King Alfonso VIII and his legal experts promoted both forms of legislation through new municipal fueros, such as the Fuero de Cuenca (118990), and through territorial legislation like the Ordenamiento de Nájera (1185). This influence also can be observed in the increased bureaucratization of royal offices, in the presence of legal experts able to elucidate new regulations, and in the growing importance of the cortes led by the king, who is seen as the 372 Lacarra Lanz supreme arbiter. In keeping with these new ideas, the author of the PMC underscores the king’s centralizing power and his role as the ultimate administrator of justice. Works Cited Primary Sources Alfonso X, Las siete partidas, 3 vols., Madrid: Real Academia de la Historia, 1972. Fuero de Cuenca. Formas primitiva y sistemática: texto latino, texto castellano y adaptación del Fuero de Iznatoraf, Critical edition, introduction, notes and appendix prepared by Rafael Ureña y Smenjaud, Madrid, 1935. Fuero Juzgo, in Códigos antiguos de España, vol. 1, Marcelo Martínez Alcubilla (ed.), Madrid: López Camacho, 1885, pp. 8-102. Fuero Real, in Códigos antiguos de España, vol. 1, Marcelo Martínez Alcubilla (ed.), Madrid: López Camacho, 1885, pp. 103-148. Fuero Viejo de Castilla, in Códigos antiguos de España, vol. 1, Marcelo Martínez Alcubilla (ed.), Madrid: López Camacho, 1885, pp. 77-102. Hinojosa, Eduardo de, Documentos para la historia de las instituciones de León y Castilla (siglos X-XIII), Madrid: Centro de Estudios Históricos, 1919. Historia Roderici, Emma Falque (ed.), in Chronica Hispana saeculi XII, Pars I (Corpus Christianorum: Continuatio Mediaeualis, 71), Turnhout: Brepols, 1990. Secondary Sources Althoff, Gerd, “Ira regis: Prolegomena to a History of Royal Anger”, in Anger’s Past. The Social Uses of Emotion in the Middle Ages, Barbara H. Rosenwein (ed.), Ithaca, London: Cornell University Press, 1998, pp. 59-74. Barton, Simon, “Reinventing the Hero: The Poetic Portrayal of Rodrigo Díaz, The Cid, in Its Political Context”, in Textos épicos castellanos: problemas de edición y crítica, David G. Pattison (ed.), London: PMHRS Queen Mary and Westfield Collage, 2000, pp. 65-78. Bautista, Francisco, “Original, versiones e influencia del Liber regum: estudio textual y propuesta de stemma”, in e-Spania, 9 | June 2010, online 11 February 2010, Consulted on 13 January 2015. URL : <http://e-spania.revues.org/19884> ; DOI : 10.4000/ e-spania.19884. Bautista, Francisco, “Como a señor natural: interpretaciones políticas del Cantar de Mio Cid”, Olivar 10 (2007), 173-84. Brundage, James A. Law, Sex, and Christian Society in Medieval Europe, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987. Legal Aspects of the Poema de mio Cid 373 Burke, James F., Structures from the Trivium in the “Cantar de Mio Cid”, Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1991. Cabral de Moncada, Luis, “O duelo na vida do direito”, Anuario de Historia del Derecho Español 2 (1925), 213-32. Cabral de Moncada, Luis, “O duelo na vida do direito”, Anuario de Historia del Derecho Español 3 (1926), 68-88. Colmeiro, Manuel, El derecho político de León y de Castilla, Madrid: F. Martínez García, 1873. Dillard, Heath, Daughters of the Reconquest. Women in Castilian Town Society, 1100-1300, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984. Duby, Georges, El caballero, la mujer y el cura, Madrid: Taurus, 1982. Duggan, Joseph J. The “Cantar de mio Cid”. Poetic Creation in its Economic and Social Contexts, Cambridge Studies in Medieval Literature, 5, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989. Escobar, Ángel, “La lengua del Carmen Campidoctoris”, e-Spania, 10 | December 2010, Online 03 October 2010, Consulted 12 January 2015. URL : <http://e-spania.revues. org/20042 ; DOI : 10.4000/e-spania.20042 >. Figueras i Capdevila, Narcis, “Carmen Campi Doctoris. Estat de la qüestió a la vista de la bibliografia recent. Primer assaig de recull bibliografic,” Annals del Centre d’Estudis Comarcals del Ripollès, <http://84.88.10.30/index.php/AnnalsCER/article/view/ 204015/0, 1988>. Gaudemet, Jean, Le mariage en Occident: les moeurs et le droit, Paris: Ed. du Cerf, 1987. Gimeno Casalduero, Joaquín, El misterio de la redención y la cultura medieval: el Poema de mio Cid y los “Loores” de Berceo, Murcia: Academia de Alfonso X el Sabio, 1988. González, Julio, “Sobre las fechas de las Cortes de Nájera”, Cuadernos de Historia de España 61–62 (1977), 357-61. Grassotti, Hilda, “La ira regia en León y Castilla”, Cuadernos de Historia de España 41-42 (1965), 5-135. Grassotti, Hilda, “El recuerdo de las Cortes de Nájera”, Cuadernos de Historia de España 70 (1988), 255-72. Guglielmi, Nilda, “La curia regia en León y Castilla” I, Cuadernos de Historia de España 24 (1955), 116-265. Guglielmi, Nilda, “La curia regia en León y Castilla” II, Cuadernos de Historia de España 26-27 (1958), 43-101. Hinojosa, Eduardo de, “El derecho en el Poema del Cid”, in Obras completas, vol. I, Madrid, 1948, pp. 183-215. Iglesia Ferreirós, Aquilino, “Fuero Real y Espéculo”, Anuario de Historia del Derecho Español 52 (1982), 111-91. Lacarra, María Eugenia (Eukene Lacarra Lanz), El Poema de mio Cid: realidad histórica e ideología, Madrid: José Porrúa Turanzas, 1980. 374 Lacarra Lanz Lacarra, María Eugenia (Eukene Lacarra Lanz), “La representación del rey Alfonso en el Poema de mio Cid desde la ira regia hasta el perdón real”, in Studies in Medieval Literature in Honor of Charles F. Fraker, Mercedes Vaquero and Alan Deyermond (eds.), Madison, Wisconsin: HSMS, 1995, pp. 183-95. Lacarra de Miguel, José María, “Documento para la historia de las instituciones navarras”, Anuario de Historia del Derecho Español 11 (1934), 487-502. Leclercq, Jean, Monks on Marriage. A Twelfth Century View, New York: Seabury Press, 1982. López Ortiz, J., “El proceso en los reinos cristianos en nuestra Reconquista”, Anuario de Historia del Derecho Español 14 (1943), 184-226. Martínez Diez, Gonzalo, José Manuel Ruiz Asencio, and César Hernández Alonso, Análisis crítico del Fuero Real. Leyes de Alfonso X. II, Ávila: Fundación Sánchez Albornoz, 1988. Menéndez Pidal, Ramón, Cantar de Mio Cid, 3 vols., 4th ed., Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1964. Menéndez Pidal, Ramón, En torno al “Poema del Cid”, Barcelona: Edhasa, 1970. Montaner Frutos, Alberto, ed., Cantar de mio Cid, Barcelona: Crítica, 1993. Montaner Frutos, Alberto, “La Historia Roderici y el archivo cidiano. Cuestiones filológicas, diplomáticas, jurídicas e historiográficas”, e-Legal History Review 12 (2011), 1-62. Montaner Frutos, Alberto, “La construcción biográfica de la Historia Roderici: datos, fuentes, actitudes”, Edad Media: Revista de Historia 12 (2011), 159-91. Montaner Frutos, Alberto, “Acusar y defender en la Edad Media: una aproximación conceptual”, in Historia de la Abogacía Española, Santiago Muñoz Machado (dir.), vol. I, Madrid: Thomson-Reuters-Aranzadi, 2015, pp. 245-96. Montaner Frutos, Alberto, and Ángel Escobar, eds. and transl., Carmen Campidoctoris o poema latino del Campeador, Madrid: España Nuevo Milenio, 2001. Morros, Bienvenido, “Problemas del Cantar de Mio Cid: el destierro y el episodio de Raquel y Vidas”, in Actas II Congreso de la Asociación Hispánica de Literatura Medieval, vol. II, Alcalá de Henares: Universidad de Alcalá, 1992, pp. 527-48. Noonan, John T. “Marital Affection in the Canonists”, Studia Gratiana 12 (1967), 479-509, Núñez Paz, María Isabel, Consentimiento matrimonial y divorcio en Roma, Salamanca: Ediciones Universidad de Salamanca, 1988. Orlandis Rovira, José, “La paz de la casa en el derecho español”, Anuario de Historia del Derecho Español 15 (1944), 17-161. Orlandis Rovira, José, “Las consecuencias del delito en el Derecho de la Alta Edad Media”, Anuario de Historia del Derecho Español 18 (1947), 61-165. Otero Varela, Alfonso, “El riepto de los fueros municipales”, Anuario de Historia del Derecho Español 24 (1954), 153-73. Otero Varela, Alfonso, Dos estudios histórico-jurídicos, Roma-Madrid: Cuadernos del Instituto Jurídico Español, 1955. Legal Aspects of the Poema de mio Cid 375 Pavlović, Milija N., “A Reappraisal of the Closing Scenes of the Poema de Mio Cid, I: The ‘Rieptos’”, Medium Aevum 58 (1989), 1-16. Peña Pérez, Francisco Javier, “Gesta Roderici. El Cid en la historiografía latina medieval del siglo XII”, e-Spania, 10 | décembre 2010, Online 09 December 2010, Consulted 14 September 2012. URL : <http://e-spania.revues.org/20104 ; DOI : 10.4000/e-spania.20104>. Rodríguez Flores, María Inmaculada, El perdón real en Castilla, Salamanca: Universidad de Salamanca, 1971. Russell, Peter E. Temas de "La Celestina" y otros estudios (del "Cid" al "Quijote"), Barcelona: Ariel, 1978. Sanz, Omar, “La voz del defensor en la literatura medieval española”, in Historia de la Abogacía Española, Santiago Muñoz Machado (dir.), vol. I, Madrid: ThomsonReuters-Aranzadi, 2015, pp. 365-407. Serra Ruiz, Rafael, Honor, honra e injuria en el Derecho medieval español, Murcia: Universidad Secretariado de Publicaciones, 1966. Smith, Colin, “Further French Analogues and Sources for the Poema de mio Cid”, La Corónica 6 (1977-78), 14-21. Smith, Colin, La creación del “Poema de mio Cid”, Barcelona: Crítica, 1985. Weigand, Rudolf, “Liebe und Ehe bei den Dekretisten des 12. Jahrhunderts”, in Love and Marriage in the Twelfth Century, Willy van Hoecke and Andries Welkenhuisen (eds.), Leuven, 1981, pp. 41-58. White, Stephen D., “The Politics of Anger”, in Anger’s Past. The Social Uses of Emotion in the Middle Ages, Barbara H. Rosenwein (ed.), Ithaca, London: Cornell University Press, 1998, pp. 127-52. Zaderenko, Irene, “El procedimiento judicial de riepto entre nobles y la fecha de composición de la Historia Roderici y del Poema de mio Cid”, Revista de Filología Española 78.1-2 (1998), 183-93. 376 Lacarra Lanz Figure 12.1 Conquest of a city ( Jericho). Miniature of the Biblia románica (1162). (León, Colegiata de San Isidoro, codex 2). With kind permission of the MUSEO DE LA REAL COLEGIATA de San Isidoro. Legal Aspects of the Poema de mio Cid Part 5 The Poema de mio Cid in the Cultural History of Spain ∵ 377 378 Lacarra Lanz The Poema de mio Cid and the Canon of the Spanish Epic Revisited 379 Chapter 13 The Poema de mio Cid and the Canon of the Spanish Epic Revisited Mercedes Vaquero Years of teaching medieval Romance epics (Chanson de Roland, Poema de mio Cid, Siete infantes de Lara, Partición de los reinos de Fernando I, Mainete, Mocedades de Rodrigo, Roncesvalles, etc.) to graduate and undergraduate students has made me wonder how representative the Poema de mio Cid (PMC) is of the Spanish epic genre. In a previous work in which I first addressed this question,1 I reached – through a different analysis – the same conclusion that William J. Entwistle had drawn many years earlier: The Cid is undoubtedly the most impressive monument of the Spanish Middle Ages, and may well have been the best of all cantares de gesta. By the mere fact of survival in verse form it has had a most powerful influence upon later Spanish literature, whereas other cantares de gesta are influential only in their shape as chronicles, ballads or drama. In this way the Cid has gained a kind of priority over the other works of the juglares. Yet it is commonly admitted that the author’s mature art implies a long previous elaboration in other works, and belongs to the apogee, not the dawn of a style.2 Since Tomás Antonio Sánchez published the PMC for the first time in 1779, this venerable text has defined the canon of the Spanish medieval epic. For years I have questioned – contrary to the belief of modern readers and critics – the canonicity of the poem. Undoubtedly it is a great cantar de gesta and, therefore, not surprisingly, it has dominated the syllabi in American and European schools, colleges, and universities. However, as I will try to explain again, the PMC does not represent the “mainstream” medieval Spanish epic tradition as most readers, historians, and literary critics have generally assumed, a misconception that has distorted the view not only of medieval Spanish epic, but also of medieval Spanish history. Regarding medieval Spanish epic, it is clear that there are other far less studied works that are as extraordinary as the PMC and happened to be even better 1 Vaquero, “The Poema de Mio Cid”. 2 Entwistle, “Remarks Concerning”. © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004363755_015 380 Vaquero known in the Middle Ages. The PMC is unusual within the epic genre for several reasons: first, besides its metrical characteristics and a few topoi, it shows little relation to other epics; and second, its singing tradition only lasted a brief period.3 Since its first edition in the 18th century, the PMC has always had and continues to have a very good reception; in the last decades, nearly every year a new edition has been printed, and there is no need here to remind the reader about the numerous studies dedicated regularly to the poem.4 The old queries, in my previous article, had to do with its reception throughout the Middle Ages, queries that bring us to a very important problem, in my opinion. If the PMC has become the national epic because it has long been regarded as the greatest of the medieval Spanish cantares de gesta by most scholars, its anomalies, instead of being considered deviations from the epic genre, have been taken as the paradigm against which all other Spanish epic poems are measured. In fact, the rest of the cantares are deemed epic according to how they measure up with the now-venerable poem. By not addressing this problem, many critics, unwittingly, have shown a bias against a supposed inadequacy of other Spanish medieval epics. My aim, as I will argue in the second part of this chapter, is to discuss how modern critics and historians have been affected by the canonicity of the PMC as to give both a distorted view of the epic and of the historical Cid. I believe, and I am sure I am not alone, that the version we have today of the PMC (preserved in a single manuscript in the Biblioteca Nacional of Madrid) is a rifacimento of one or more previous cantar(es) de gesta. As many critics have pointed out, whoever reworked it had a good knowledge of law, or at least was very interested in legal issues.5 In order to carry out such a rewriting, he had 3 Undoubtedly, this text was sung in the 13th century. Line 2276, which closes the second cantar, the second part of the poem, confirms it: “Las coplas deste cantar aquís’ van acabando”. According to Irene Zaderenko, “Un examen cuidadoso del PMC revela que el segundo cantar es el más propiamente épico de los tres. No es casualidad que esta parte del poema sea la única que es llamada gesta (v. 1085) y cantar (v. 2276), términos que indican una mayor conciencia por parte de su autor del género y de los modelos literarios en que se inspiraba su obra” (Problemas de autoría, p. 175). 4 On the canonicity of the PMC from its first publication in 1779 to the early 20th century, see Luis Galván, El “Poema del Cid” en España; see also Luis Galván and Enrique Banús, El “Poema del Cid” en Europa. 5 See, among others, Peter Russell, “Some Problems of Diplomatic”; Colin C. Smith, Estudios cidianos and The Making; María Eugenia Lacarra, El Poema de mio Cid; Alberto Montaner Frutos, Cantar de mio Cid (b), pp. xciv-xcix. The Poema de mio Cid and the Canon of the Spanish Epic Revisited 381 to be a learned person. However, “the idea that the Cid is a learned imitation of traditional oral epics is wholly off the mark”.6 In my previous study, I attempted to compare the PMC with other CastilianLeonese epics. To this end, I asked how popular were the PMC, Partición de los reinos de Fernando I (Partición),7 and Siete infantes de Lara or Salas (SIL) in the Middle Ages. To measure the diffusion of these epic poems I used the following four parameters: 1. 2. 3. 4. The manuscripts themselves: How much were they used and read, by whom, and under what circumstances? In particular, how were now-lost manuscripts used by historians, mainly by the team of Alfonso X in the last third of the 13th century, when composing the Estoria de España? How did these historians refer to the text they prosified or copied in their chronicles? The refundiciones or reworkings of epic poems. In Romance epic, as critics have noted, reworkings are a clue to a lost realm of medieval orality and memory. Are refundiciones profoundly different works? The ballads (romances viejos tradicionales) that have survived belonging to the oral epic traditions from the 14th and 15th centuries onwards: Is there a direct and genetic connection between epics and ballads? The use of motifs: The linking or associative type of composition is another strategy to detect the popularity of an epic. Have these motifs traveled from one tradition to another? The PMC in metric form has survived in a single manuscript, the so-called “Vivar manuscript”, preserved in the Biblioteca Nacional in Madrid. This manuscript includes a (now-famous) explicit (“E el romanz es leído”), in a 14th-century hand, different from that of the main copyist. For this reason, the explicit has attracted much scholarly attention. According to Guillermo Fernández Rodríguez-Escalona and Clara del Brío Carretero, “el CMC [PMC] del manuscrito de Vivar ya no es, como antes lo había sido, un cantar de gesta”.8 Obviously, the explicit in the only surviving manuscript reveals that in the 14th 6 Juan Carlos Bayo, “On the Nature”, p. 24. We cannot forget Duggan’s admonition, in a volume on the PMC: “Whether the Cantar de Mio Cid is a poem deeply imbedded in oral tradition […] or the product of an author educated in book learning is still, and will not doubt continue to be, a subject of dispute among those who study the poem” (“The Interface”, p. 56). 7 Partición de los reinos de Fernando I has not survived in metric form, but probably included three parts or cantares: Cantar del rey don Ferrando, Cantar de Sancho II, and Cerco de Zamora. 8 Fernández Rodríguez-Escalona and del Brío Carretero, “Sobre la métrica del Cantar de Mio Cid”, p. 30. 382 Vaquero century this text was not sung, but rather read or recited. As I commented in my previous work, I do not think that this text was sung during the reign of Alfonso X (from 1252 until 1284), and I doubt even more that it was sung at all after 1284. While the Estoria de España was being elaborated from around 1270 until 1284, the chroniclers that used the PMC story never referred to it as a cantar, a gesta, or “the story according to the minstrels”.9 The text they were using was usually referred to as estoria. In contrast, Partición, although only a small part of it has survived in poetic form (in ballads), was probably sung during the reign of Alfonso X. Alfonsine historians refer to it as “el cantar que dizen del rey don Ferrando”,10 “Algunos dizen en sus cantares que avía el rey don Ferrando un fijo de ganançia”,11 “dizen en los cantares de las gestas”,12 “Mas comoquier que en el cantar del rey don Sancho diga”,13 “la estoria del rey don Sancho assi como la cuentan los joglares”,14 “Mas esto, comoquier que lo cuentan asi los joglares, no fue asi verdad”,15 etc. It is evident that Alfonsine historians had heard cantares de gesta of the Partición’s tradition, i.e. the Cantar del rey don Ferrando – the testament and death of King Fernando I –, the Cantar de Sancho II – the fratricidal wars among the heirs of King Fernando –, and the siege of Zamora. The character of the Cid has a prominent role in the 13th-century Partición, and some critics argue that this character was borrowed from the PMC.16 Others believe that the author of the PMC and the author of Partición could be 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 See Brian Powell, Epic and Chronicle, p. 168, n. 21, and “The Cantar del rey don Sancho”, p. 151. Menéndez Pidal, Reliquias, p. 243. Menéndez Pidal, Reliquias, p. 242; Powell, Epic and Chronicle, p. 62. Powell, Epic and Chronicle, p. 62. Powell, Epic and Chronicle, p. 168, n. 21. Powell, Epic and Chronicle, p. 168, n. 21. Powell, Epic and Chronicle, p. 168, n. 21. Comparing the popularity of the PMC with Partición, Diego Catalán affirms: “En contraste, de la gesta de Las particiones del rey don Fernando no sabemos que fuera puesta por escrito en forma métrica, y, en cambio, nos consta que ya a fines del s. XII circulaba con variantes narrativas de importancia y que en el último tercio del s. XIII era cantada por los juglares en una versión que, si bien conservaba con gran fidelidad no sólo la trama sino muchas de las escenas de la primitiva versión anterior a c. 1185/90, en otros episodios innovaba la herencia tradicional” (La épica española, p. 500). Entwistle, “Remarks Concerning”, p. 121. On this issue, Catalán comments: “Desde mediados del s. XII a los tiempos alfonsíes, la gesta de Las particiones del rey don Fernando alteró substancialmente el papel que en ella tenía Rodrigo Díaz” (La épica española, p. 500). The Poema de mio Cid and the Canon of the Spanish Epic Revisited 383 the same person.17 Colin Smith, in 1983, did not discard entirely the hypothesis that the Partición in vernacular epic form could predate the PMC.18 In 1986, reviewing his 1983 suggestion that Per Abbat – for him, the author of the PMC – was the first to create a system of Spanish epic meter, Smith says: “If a substantial fragment, or better, a complete text of the Cantar de Sancho II [=Partición] should appear, of a date manifestly earlier than that of the Poema de mio Cid, and showing total metrical perfection, I will naturally eat my words”.19 Powell, exploring whether the 13th-century Partición had been influenced by the PMC, concludes that neither poem is directly influenced by the other: “it is not possible to identify direct influences of one work upon another”.20 Catalán, however, reaches another conclusion: Toda esta indudable ampliación del ya notable componente cidiano existente desde antiguo en Las particiones del rey don Fernando no puede deberse sino a la coexistencia en los repertorios de juglares de la gesta de Las particiones con la del Mio Cid, en la cual Rodrigo no era solamente el mejor de los mejores caballeros sino el más grande de los vasallos.21 Regarding the refundiciones or reworkings of epic poems in the Romance epic, critics have pointed out that such reworkings are clues that remind us of the medieval oral tradition. Although refundiciones at times are obviously profoundly different works, their relationship, though distant and indirect, is nonetheless an essential clue to trace and understand their origin as oral compositions. Concerning the existence of refundiciones of the PMC, David Pattison,22 Colin Smith,23 and Alberto Montaner,24 among others, reject such a possibility. Along a similar line, Francisco Rico argues that the PMC was very stable, to the point that it was highly unusual. According to him, it is an oddity because it is the only case in Romance epic where a chanson de geste has been transmitted orally for centuries (from 1140 until the beginning of the 14th century) almost 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 Salvador Martínez, “Tres leyendas heroicas”, p. 169. Smith, The Making, p. 165. Smith, “On Editing the Poema de mio Cid”, p. 9. Powell, “The Cantar del rey don Sancho”, p. 157. Catalán, La épica española, p. 503. Pattison, From Legend to Chronicle, pp. 124-25. Smith, The Making, pp. 415-16; “The First Prose Redaction”, pp. 874-75, n. 10. Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid (a), pp. 81-83; Cantar de mio Cid (b), pp. cccxix-cccxxvii, includes a good summary of critics’ opinions regarding the PMC’s refundiciones. 384 Vaquero without alterations.25 Why was it so stable? Neither Rico nor those who agree with him give a definite answer.26 Montaner, and other critics with a similar view, believe that whatever transformation the PMC underwent in the course of being prosified is due to the chroniclers’ intervention and a process of “novelización”, i.e. the typical evolutionary process of the epic becoming romance, or epic becoming romanticized.27 The PMC in its only surviving manuscript copy is a very unusual epic text. Some critics believe that the PMC is unique because it “is indeed a learned work, but of the quasi-folk style type, that is close or next to an authentic folk narrative tradition”.28 Others assert that the text reveals several compositional and ideological layers which may belong to a single author or to multiple ones.29 At this point, a clarification is needed regarding scholars’ views of refundiciones: first, there are some, and I am one of them, who believe that the PMC is a refundición, probably the last link in a chain; second, there are those who think that this particular Cidian tradition started and ended with the PMC; and third, there are still others who believe that this text is the original which had its own refundiciones. As the reader can gather, the spectrum is not that limited nor is 25 26 27 28 29 See Rico, “Un canto de frontera”, pp. xxxvi-xxxvii. This critic concludes: “En una amplia perspectiva de la epopeya, sin embargo, la vida tradicional del Cantar del Cid, aun si nos limitamos al período atestiguado por las prosificaciones, llama la atención por la estabilidad. Es, también, porque nos las habemos con una gesta tardía y anómala” (p. xxxvii). “Podríamos pensar que la persistencia de la trama central en las prosificaciones se debe a que para ellas se emplearon meras copias del códice de 1207, pero esa eventualidad sería tan insólita, que hemos de descartarla sin reparos: en todo el aludido corpus épico de la Romania, no se conoce ningún caso en que un manuscrito derive de otro; en cambio, las prosificaciones introducen nuevos episodios, nuevos personajes llegados claramente de refundiciones del Cantar, que, por tanto, aun acicalándolos y acrecentándolos, respetaban los grandes datos argumentales del prototipo” (Rico, “Un canto de frontera”, p. xxxvi). See Montaner’s stemma in Cantar de mio Cid (b), p. cccxxvii. For the transformation that the PMC’s materials underwent during successive rewritings of the Estoria de España from the 13th to the 15th century, see Francisco Bautista’s and Fernando Gómez Redondo’s chapters in this volume. This is a quote from the oralist John Miletich, used by Colin Smith to support his own arguments in “Toward a Reconciliation”, p. 633. For Smith, the PMC can be situated between folk narrative traditions and works such as those of Camoens and Ercilla. Regarding the composition of the PMC, after years of attributing it to a single author, the old Pidalian theory of two authors (Menéndez Pidal, En torno) has been revived in the last decades. See Garci-Gómez, “Mio Cid”, pp. 155-71, and Dos autores; Catalán, La épica española, pp. 393, 444; Gómez Redondo, “Recitación y recepción”; Zaderenko suggests the hypothesis of three authors, one for each cantar (Problemas de autoría; El monasterio de Cardeña, pp. 160-61). The Poema de mio Cid and the Canon of the Spanish Epic Revisited 385 it clearly delineated, i.e. those compartments are not mutually exclusive. I, for instance, accept the first statement and the second part of the second one (that the Cidian tradition ended with the PMC). Regardless of the refundiciones question, most critics agree today that the PMC was composed c.1200, and immediately or very soon after, in 1207, a certain “Per Abbat” copied that text, which was copied again around 1320-30 (the one that is now in the Biblioteca Nacional or “Vivar manuscript”). Gómez Redondo, after examining the ideology and the expressions in the PMC, offers a new picture of the reception of the text: Se podría pensar, y de hecho es ya una sólida corriente de pensamiento, que el texto que entra en el códice de Vivar es copia literal del de 1207 y sin embargo yo no lo creo así […] Resulta, así, que hay cambios muy llamativos en estos procedimientos de recitación, ya por olvido o abandono de unas fórmulas, ya por incorporación de nuevas expresiones, como para pensar que, línea a línea, ese copista del s. XIV, bien para un taller historiográfico, bien para el concejo de Vivar, estuviera reproduciendo 3.730 versos escritos en 1207. Ni mucho menos. No sólo lo demuestran las varias contradicciones de sentido que menudean a lo largo del poema, sino, sobre todo, la espectacular combinación de procedimientos narrativos que se dan cita en el Cantar. Detrás de ellos hay varios niveles de sentido, porque como es evidente el poema ha cruzado círculos de recepción muy diferentes.30 Gómez Redondo concludes: Creo, en resumen, que hay razones suficientes para señalar que uno era el Cantar de 1207, impulsado como una corrección de otro anterior, y que otro es el texto que se fija por escrito a mediados del s. XIV. Se conserva la primera de las tramas narrativas, puramente épica, como apoyo de la segunda de corte caballeresco.31 30 31 Gómez Redondo, “Recitación y recepción”, p. 182. Gómez Redondo, “Recitación y recepción”, p. 204. I believe this hypothesis corresponds to that of Garci-Gómez, who divides the poem into two parts (“Mio Cid”, pp. 156-57). I also think that the PMC is “una corrección de otro anterior”, where the hero was presented as a rebellious vassal (Vaquero, “El Cantar de la jura”). The second part or plot is totally foreign to the Cid’s biography: “los supuestos infantes de Carrión nunca existieron”; see Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid (b), pp. lx-lxi. 386 Vaquero It is clear that the poem has an overlapping bipartite structure, or two clear plots well interwoven: the Cid’s moral and political dishonor with his gradual rehabilitation after the conquest of Valencia, and the family dishonor committed by the Infantes of Carrión after marrying the hero’s daughters.32 Garci-Gómez clearly makes a division between the “epic” part, i.e. the first plot, and the second plot, which has lots of elements of a medieval “romance”. He calls the first one “gesta”, and the second, “razón”, as the explicit verses refer to the entire text in the 14th-century manuscript.33 Alfonso Boix Jovaní also sees a clear mix of epic (the “destierro”, i.e. the exile part) and elements of the chivalrique romance (the “antidestierro”) in the PMC.34 Both parts, according to Boix Jovaní, are united by the “Cuento de los Infantes de Carrión”, which is closely related to the number 300 of Aarne-Thompson’s folktale index. It seems that the proper epic parts of the PMC are those related to the hero’s unjust exile and his siege and conquest of Valencia. The second plot, that is, the events related to the marriage of his daughters to the Infantes of Carrión, appears to be a later addition by an author interested in romance and folktales, and it may derive from a different work with a distinct textual transmission. The story of the Cid’s exile (Cantar del exilio) has, in my view, the necessary elements of being “traditional” or “popular”. The hero is presented as a rebellious vassal, but the rendition of his rebellion is mitigated in the PMC through a “correction”, making him a very respectful vassal of the monarchy.35 That is why I believe that the first cantar, in particular, derives from a song narrating the exile of the Cid, quite different in tone and the hero’s characterization from the version that is given in the extant manuscript. I base my hypothesis on contradictions between the PMC and the Cantar de la jura de Santa Gadea, and on the different portrayal of the Cid’s exile in the late 13th-century Crónica de Castilla, where one even finds remnants of its poetic form, as well as in a ballad recorded in a 15th-century manuscript which is now in the British Library.36 32 33 34 35 36 See Michael, The Poem of the Cid, pp. 9-10. Garci-Gómez, “Mio Cid”, pp. 156-57. Boix Jovaní, El Cantar de mio Cid. The PMC is so unusual within the Spanish medieval epic that Rico regards it as “una nueva epopeya” (“Un canto de frontera”, pp. xxxii-xliii). Montaner (Cantar de mio Cid (b), pp. cxxxix, clii) agrees with Rico: the mixture of “epic” and “chivalric romance” is a “new epic”, and concludes, quoting Jeremy Lawrence: “El peculiar ethos del Cantar de Mio Cid lo sitúa en un punto intermedio entre la épica heroica y el romance caballeresco” (“Chivalry in the Cantar de Mio Cid”, p. 57). Montaner adds: “el Cantar no constituye en absoluto un mero epígono de una tradición preestablecida, sino una creación original que ofrece soluciones peculiares” (Cantar de mio Cid (b), p. cliv). Vaquero, “El Cantar de la jura”. Vaquero, “El Cantar de la jura”. The Poema de mio Cid and the Canon of the Spanish Epic Revisited 387 The rebellious aspect of the Cid, most appealing to popular taste, also appears in the Partición and in the Mocedades tradition.37 The two passages of the poem that have received most attention in evaluating the reworkings of the PMC are the beginning of the story, that is, the preparations before going into exile, and the King Bucar episode. Regarding the second, Smith38 and many others, including Louis Chalon,39 believe the outcome introduced in the chronicles, where Bucar escapes alive, is a change made by the historians. As chroniclers with a better knowledge of history than the author who composed the PMC, it is very likely that they revised Bucar’s fate, managing to have him flee Valencia alive. The other most commented passage, the initial verses of the Cid’s departure for exile, was preserved in the Crónica de Castilla and in a ballad recorded in a 15th-century manuscript of the British Library. Armistead is convinced that it is a refundición of the PMC.40 Smith admits that those lines could well have come from a variant version of the start of the PMC without necessarily indicating a refundición of the complete poem.41 But taking into consideration the popular poetic traditions of the Cid’s exile as attested in chronicles of the late 13th and early-14th centuries, and in ballads dating back to the 15th century, I still maintain, as I argued in 1990, that it was probably the learned author of the PMC who altered the characterization of the hero, changing him from a defiant and very disrespectful vassal into an obedient subject who revered his king.42 It is remarkable that among all the epic poems of the Cidian cycle (PMC, second version of Partición, Jura de Santa Gadea, Mocedades de Rodrigo, and the Song of the Exile of the Cid) the only one that presents the hero as a truly loyal vassal, and not as a defiant character, is precisely the PMC.43 My hypoth37 38 39 40 41 42 43 Bayo makes an interesting point about dates assigned to poems by critics: “When studying the relationship between epics and chronicles, therefore, we should be aware of certain apparent paradoxes. One is the following: the more recent the dating assigned to a poem, the more likely that it was to have had a ‘popular’ and not a ‘learned’ character, or more accurately, to have been composed outside of courtly circles and for a wider audience” (“On the Nature”, p. 23; my emphasis). Smith, “Sobre la difusión”, p. 418. Chalon, L’Histoire et l’epopée, p. 234. Armistead, “The Initial Verses”. Smith, “The First Prose Redaction”, p. 875, n. 10. Vaquero, “El Cantar de la jura”. I disagree with Catalán when he argues that the character of Rodrigo Díaz in the PMC and in Partición are similar (La épica española, pp. 516, 631). It suffices to look at the behavior of the Cid when King Fernando is dying in the first cantar of Partición to realize how different it is. Analyzing the Crónica de Castilla’s passage that narrates the encounter 388 Vaquero esis, therefore, is that it was the author of the PMC who changed the pattern of the popular epic, and not the other way around, particularly if it was composed, as Duggan suspects, for Alfonso VIII of Castile and his court.44 Critics, in general, tend to believe that all other Cidian songs are atypical and thus anomalous of the Cidian epic tradition; some even call them “decadent”.45 Evidence shows that, with the exception of the PMC, all epic material related to the Cid – the 13th-century Partición, the different versions of Mocedades de Rodrigo (= MR),46 the Cantar de la jura de Santa Gadea, the different ballads, 44 45 46 between King Alfonso and the Cid outside of Burgos when the king orders Rodrigo to leave his territories, Catalán affirms: “No cabe duda de que este Cid es temperamentalmente distinto, no ya al del Mio Cid, sino al de Las particiones [=Partición] en sus versiones viejas, es “el soberbio castellano” de las Mocedades de Rodrigo, pero es muy posible que la evolución del carácter del Cid hubiera ya afectado a las refundiciones tardías de los poemas épicos de más antigua solera” (La épica española, p. 631). Gómez Redondo (“La otra épica”) and I (“El Cantar de la jura”) believe in an opposite evolution: chronologically, first we had a rebellious Cid, and then, as a correction to such a characterization, came the “obedient” or compliant Cid. Gómez Redondo says: “[el] primer C[antar de] M[io] C[id] tenía que construir un modelo de héroe con la suficiente rebeldía como para estimular, de nuevo, los valores esenciales de la conciencia castellana (y aquí es donde tiene pleno sentido la escena de la jura de Santa Gadea), y a la vez debía de poseer un repertorio de méritos y de virtudes que lo convirtiera en un adalid merecedor de consumar hazañas como la conquista de Valencia” (“La otra épica”, p. 717). I believe that the first *Cantar de mio Cid was probably a Cantar del exilio. Duggan, The “Cantar de Mio Cid”, p. 143. Regardless of the objections that Lacarra raises concerning Duggan’s hypothesis in view of the date of Fernando III’s birth, his understanding is still valid (see Lacarra, “Reflexiones sobre economía y linaje”, p. 312). Roger Wright’s chapter in this volume also seems to suggest a restricted audience for the PMC. It is not clear how “decadent” Catalán thinks this characterization of the Castilian hero is: “El carácter altanero, siempre desafiante, de ‘Rodrigo el Castellano’, capaz de someter a su voluntad a un rey pusilánime, después de humillar a los condes del reino, no es, como se ha creído, una invención tardía del s. XV, sino la razón de ser de la gesta. Sin ese personaje así diseñado, las enfances de Rodrigo carecerían de sentido. Es esta profunda distorsión de la caracterización hasta entonces dominante del héroe (creada conjuntamente por el Mio Cid y Las particiones del rey don Fernando) la gran aportación al ciclo cidiano de este poeta de la ‘decadencia’ de la epopeya perteneciente al tránsito del s. XIII al s. XIV” (La épica española, pp. 515-16). For Armistead (La tradición épica) there is no doubt the MR underwent refundiciones. Catalán, however, is not so sure: “[A]l comparar el testimonio de la Crónica de Castilla con el del Rodrigo [= MR], el correctísimo comportamiento ante el rey del joven Rodrigo, siempre obediente y bien mandado, que en la crónica se nos cuenta, en modo alguno refleja otra redacción de la gesta de las Mocedades, como la crítica, desde Menéndez Pidal, ha venido suponiendo, ya que sólo tiene origen en un modelo ideal de relaciones The Poema de mio Cid and the Canon of the Spanish Epic Revisited 389 as well as some chronicle prosifications regarding his exile – they all portray him as a defiant vassal. Returning to the problem of the PMC’s canonicity within the Spanish epic, those epic texts of the Cidian cycle that do not present the protagonist as a submissive vassal are to be considered a departure from the norm; they represent, according to a large number of critics, a decline, a degeneration, or corruption of the epic hero. As I stated at the beginning of this chapter, the anomalies of the PMC, instead of being considered deviations within the epic genre, are considered the paradigm against which almost all other Spanish epic is measured. Undoubtedly, there is an implicit bias against the rest of the Spanish medieval texts present. In view of this contrasting evaluation, it seems fair to question how representative the PMC is of the epic canon. By presenting the poem as belonging to the “popular” genre, the general agreement is that it originated in the popular oral tradition, and that the written form in which it survives still bears the traces of oral performances. In dealing with cantares de gesta, as Bayo points out, the fundamental point that must be taken into account is that their form is completely dependent on oral performance: their authors were completely familiar with the techniques of the jongleurs and their poems were composed with minstrel performances in mind.47 There is no reason to think that any of the epic texts prosified in the Alfonsine chronicles did not belong to the same genre as those that have survived in their original poetic form (PMC, MR, and the Roncesvalles fragment). In the cases of Partición and SIL, the marks they left on ballads is a clear indication of its success among a low-brow public.48 An analysis of the surviving traditional ballads that derive from these epics seem to be a good parameter to measure the popularity of the texts.49 In this regard, Per Abbat’s PMC has a very precarious – if not uncertain – tradition. Of possible ballads descending from this text, Di Stefano, one of the leading scholars in Spanish balladry, asks: “Los triunfos del Cid: ¿qué se hizo de ellos en el 47 48 49 vasalláticas que el historiador predica a sus lectores utilizando las figuras del Cid y del rey don Fernando y que nada tenía que ver con el ideario del poema épico que le sirvió de fuente” (La épica española, p. 592). Bayo, “On the Nature”, pp. 26-27. See Bayo’s comments on SIL (“On the Nature”, p. 23). Although I am not examining the Carolingian tradition in this article, we should not forget that “El Romancero referente a personajes que proceden de la Epopeya carolingia fue, en el Siglo de Oro, tanto o más famoso que el que tomó sus temas y personajes de la épica típicamente hispana. En la tradición moderna el componente ‘carolingio’ tiene un peso mayor que el ‘nacional’” (Catalán, La épica española, p. 786). 390 Vaquero viejo romancero?”.50 Since it was considered virtually impossible that such a venerable poem would not generate new ballads, three romances have been traditionally ascribed to it: “Tres cortes armara el rey”, “Yo me estando en Valencia”, and “Helo, helo por do viene”. According to Smith, with whom most critics agree, these three ballads “tienen origen remoto en el Poema, pero no podemos precisar su filiación ni sabemos si hay por medio algún texto cronístico”.51 Smith concludes: “Estos romances nos sirven en cierto modo para dar una prueba negativa acerca de la difusión del Poema: mientras de Los Infantes de Lara, Sancho II [=Partición], Mocedades de Rodrigo, etcétera, tenemos romances que son a todas luces auténticos fragmentos de épicas, con retoques y espíritu nuevo, del Poema no nos quedan en el romancero sino recuerdos ya muy deformados”.52 Thomas Montgomery, in a detailed study on the ballad “Helo, helo por do viene”, discards the remote relationship between this romance and the Cid’s pursuit of the Moorish King Bucar as found in the PMC; instead, he finds that “Helo, helo” descends from Partición, from the episode of the Cid’s pursuit of Vellido Dolfos, the murderer of King Sancho.53 Catalán, in disagreement with Montgomery, finds it hard, if not impossible, to connect directly “Helo, helo” – and “Yo me estando en Valencia” – to the PMC. He concedes that “[e]n favor de la existencia de una tradición épica ininterrumpida del Mio Cid que enlace con el Romancero el más importante testimonio lo constituye el romance viejo (o romances) relativo a las Cortes de Toledo”.54 Indeed, there is a slight connection between this ballad and lines 3129-31 of the PMC, but the disparities between both texts are such that Di Stefano affirms: “[e]l R[omance] pudo formarse inspirándose a puntos varios del Cantar según una versión tardía”.55 As Armistead and other critics have pointed out on different occasions: The exact relationship of medieval epic poetry to the Hispanic Romancero is one of the most vexed questions of Hispano-Medievalism. For revisionist neo-individualist criticism, the relationship, if indeed it exists, is argued to be dubious and ill-defined. For neo-traditionalists, on the other hand, there can be no doubt whatsoever about the direct, genetic con50 51 52 53 54 55 Di Stefano, “Siluetas cidianas”, p. 560. Smith, “Sobre la difusión”, p. 421. Smith, “Sobre la difusión”, p. 421. Zaderenko has reached a similar conclusion, see “El Cid en el romancero viejo” and “Épica y romancero del Cid”. Montgomery, “A Ballad and Two Epics”. Catalán, La épica española, p. 649. Di Stefano, Romancero, p. 375, n.1. The Poema de mio Cid and the Canon of the Spanish Epic Revisited 391 nection between epic and ballad in an oral traditional continuum that stretches from the high Middle Ages up to modern times.56 Epic ballads are difficult to study, not only because of their sheer number, but also due to their many textual variants. Although some of these versions have been accessible to scholars, some are not yet available. As any scholar who has studied ballads knows, “there will always be more work to be done before certainty can be attained”.57 Even if we tried to make an inventory of the relevant ballads and their available texts, the limitations and dangers of such a method to prove the traditional life of an epic poem are obvious. However, Siete infantes de Lara, Partición, and Mocedades de Rodrigo seem to be the epics from which more traditional ballads have survived.58 According to Catalán, Partición has one of the richest ballad traditions in the Spanish epic: La activa reelaboración de la gesta de Las particiones del rey don Fernando [=Partición] que hemos podido detectar en la documentación cronística durante los siglos XII y XIII hace bastante probable que el tema siguiera siendo cantado por profesionales tardo-medievales del canto épico. A favor de esa hipótesis hablan las huellas que la gesta dejó en el canto romancístico, que son de las más abundantes.59 Although there is no exact method to verify this, it seems that Partición is the epic text with the largest number of surviving traditional ballads. The material is vast, but scholars are providing us with new tools to study it. Manuel da Costa Fontes, an expert in the field of Portuguese ballads, argues that “Afuera, afuera Rodrigo”, which traditionally has been recorded as descending from Mocedades de Rodrigo, ultimately derives from Partición.60 Fontes has studied the similarities between the Azorean and the Madeiran version of “Afuera, 56 57 58 59 60 Armistead and Silverman, “Almerique de Narbona”, p. 133. Deyermond, Point of View in the Ballad, p. 62. Regarding the surviving traditional ballads of Partición, if we just make a quick count of the ballads that modern editors include in their anthologies and compare them with the ones descending from the SIL and the MR traditions, this is what we find: Paloma DíazMas (Romancero) includes: four for SIL, three for MR, and six for Partición; Di Stefano (Romancero) includes: four for SIL, three for MR, twelve for Partición; Mercedes Díaz Roig (El romancero viejo) includes: four for SIL, three for MR, and eight for Partición. I have excluded from my count the ballads “Jura de Santa Gadea” and “Helo, helo” because it is not totally clear they belong to the Partición tradition. Catalán, La épica española, p. 604. Fontes, “The Ballad”. 392 Vaquero afuera”, and concludes that at one time “A morte do rei D. Fernando”, that is, the Portuguese version of the first cantar of Partición, consisted of “Silvana y Delgadina”, “Doliente se siente el rey”, “Morir vos queredes padre”, and “Afuera, afuera Rodrigo” in both archipelagos. The discovery of these combined insular versions, according to Fontes, suggests that a similar poem also may have been traditional in the Algarve.61 Of the hundreds of Hispanic ballads, more are being made accessible each year. In 1991, for example, Alan Soons published two romances and three lines from the beginning of another ballad deriving from Partición. They are found in the Cancionero de Peraza (Cancionero de Wolfenbüttel) dating from the last third of the 16th century.62 Alan Deyermond, in his first volume of La literatura perdida de la Edad Media castellana, includes the first lines of three more ballads that could derive from Partición: “En el adarve de Çamora grandes alaridos se dan” (B10, p. 165), “Por el cerco de Samora andavan los castellanos” (B27, p. 176), and “Que aunque duermen en Çamora R[odri]go estava belando” (B28, p. 176).63 Let us review the stock material of these epics and some of their motifs. As it has been noted by many scholars, the indelible mark that the cantares de gesta have left on ballads and the use of shared folkloric motifs are clear indication of their origin in the oral tradition.64 Deyermond,65 Smith,66 and Gornall67 have asserted that the author of Mocedades de Rodrigo knew the PMC. Smith states, “El que compuso la perdida Gesta de las Mocedades tenía delante de sí, o conocía al dedillo, el viejo poema, hecho que en Burgos o en su región no es sorprendente”.68 These critics argue that not only some of the characters are 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 Fontes, “The Ballad”. Regarding this ballad tradition, Deyermond remarks: “Joanne B. Purcell (1976) demuestra que del Fernando [first part of Partición] desciende una vigorosa tradición de romances, que rastrea en los romanceros impresos del siglo XVI, en los romances orales recogidos en la primera mitad del siglo XX y conservados en el Archivo Menéndez Pidal, y en romances de Madeira y los Azores, de su propia cosecha. Sus investigaciones vienen confirmadas por la recogida en Madeira en 1990, por Maria-João Câmara Fontes, de un romance sobre la muerte de Fernando I que combina tres romances antiguos, y que corresponde a pasajes del Cantar de Sancho II prosificado en la Crónica de veinte reyes y la Crónica de 1344 (Costa Fontes 1992)” (La literatura perdida, p. 98). See Catalán (La épica española, p. 616, n. 80) for his objections to Fontes’ hypothesis. Soons, “The Romances”. Deyermond, La literatura perdida, pp. 165 and 176. In the case of Siete infantes de Lara, see Bayo (“On the Nature”, p. 23). Deyermond, Epic Poetry, pp. 156-76. Smith, “Sobre la difusión”. Gornall, “One Way to Invent Youthful Deeds”. Smith, “Sobre la difusión”, p. 421. The Poema de mio Cid and the Canon of the Spanish Epic Revisited 393 identical in Mocedades de Rodrigo and the PMC, but that certain characters and events that are not identical still bear similarities. Some descriptions and enumerations found in MR are believed to have been borrowed from the PMC. One example is the enumeration of territories over which Alfonso VI ruled according to the PMC, which is very similar to MR’s enumeration of territories over which Fernando I reigned. A comparison of this list with the description in the ballad reveals the use of the same expressions.69 In the romance, the deeds of Fernando I from the MR’s tradition have been reassigned to his son Sancho.70 In preparing an edition and study of Partición, I have found that many of the verbal correspondences and parallel motifs put forward by scholars in order to establish similarities between the PMC and MR also appear in Partición as well as in other epic texts, an evident sign that they are not exclusive to the Cidian material; they seem to belong to the stock material of the epic style. In a previous work, I included a list of shared motifs found in SIL, Partición, Infant García, PMC, and MR.71 These motifs suggest that there was a continued borrowing from one tradition to another. How does this work for my purpose here? It works like this: when a motif is used coherently in one text and the same motif is used infelicitously in another, it is likely that the second text borrowed the motif from the first. This is the case, for example, of several motifs I have analyzed in detail elsewhere,72 which prove that SIL borrowed motifs from Partición. But these motifs are not the only ones to be studied. It has been pointed out by Deyermond73 and Armistead74 that the structure of the gesta of MR is determined by a vow the young hero, Rodrigo, makes: before living with Jimena, he will fight five pitched battles. Deyermond believes the origin of this motif may be found in Partición.75 In the final duels of the story, the Castilian Diego Ordóñez is supposed to fight against five Zamorans, five of Urraca’s vassals, although he only fights three. Deyermond has argued that if the author of Partición stressed the need for five duels while describing only three, it is because he felt compelled to include an inherited epic motif. Both Deyermond76 and Michael77 think that such a motif may have affected the text of the PMC, 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 Vaquero, “The Poema de Mio Cid”. Di Stefano, Romancero, p. 350, nn. 1, 5. Vaquero, “The Poema de Mio Cid”. Vaquero, “El episodio del cohombro”; this is the famous bloody cucumber incident of SIL. Deyermond, Epic Poetry, p. 13. Armistead, La tradición épica, pp. 60-62. Deyermond, Epic Poetry, pp. 161-63. Deyermond, Epic Poetry, p. 162. Michael, Poema de mio Cid, pp. 172-73. 394 Vaquero since, when speaking of the Cid, Álvar Fáñez says: “e fizo çinco lides campales e todas las arrancó” (v. 1333), although only two pitched battles have been narrated in the story when this line appears. Is this a poetic lapse? More plausible is Deyermond’s hypothesis, with which I agree, that the PMC was influenced by this motif, probably deriving from Partición. In a later study on the ending of the PMC, Deyermond analyzed the motif of the final duels reaching a similar conclusion: a possible direct influence of Partición on the PMC.78 The appearance of Asur González, the oldest brother of the Infantes, in the court, and his participation in the final duels are not required by the plot or character development in the PMC. As Deyermond has demonstrated, Asur González seems to be introduced merely to provide a third duel because three is a favorite number for narrative units in a traditional tale. And most probably, it was borrowed from the very popular Partición by the author of the PMC.79 In a 2005 article, I pointed out how the canonicity of the PMC, transmitted in a single manuscript, has led us to believe erroneously that any medieval Spanish epic is based on parameters exclusive to this text and not shared by other medieval cantares de gesta. The PMC is very different in many aspects from other Castilian-Leonese epics, except for a few topoi and its system of versification, as I mentioned earlier. Bayo has studied at length the PMC’s composition and its relation to other epics. The PMC is not the first epic which gave rise to a Castilian tradition; rather, it is one among many deriving from the same tradition to which the fragment of Roncesvalles belongs. He concludes: its form is quintessentially oral, with its versification based on intonational phrases excluding enjambement and its poetic discourse punctuated by deictic dissonances which make it a staged text. Such features evidence an author completely familiar with the technique of the jongleurs and composing with minstrel performance in his mind, who created within the same tradition to which the Roncesvalles fragment belongs.80 78 79 80 Deyermond, “The Close”. This motif ultimately derives from the Chanson de Roland, as has been pointed out by critics, and as I have demonstrated in my study of Partición (Vaquero, “The Tradition”). Bayo, “On the Nature”, p. 27. The Poema de mio Cid and the Canon of the Spanish Epic Revisited 395 Most scholars agree that in the 12th century – and perhaps by the end of the 11th century – cantares de gesta were being performed in the Iberian Peninsula.81 The Latin Chronica naierensis (c.1180-94) has been taken, in fact, as a good source for lost epic songs,82 e.g. Cantar de Fernán González83 and Partición.84 Regarding the PMC, as some have suspected, it seems that the text, while in dialogue with a preexisting popular epic tradition, is at the same time a reaction to it.85 The famous Nota emilianense (late 11th century), the Carmen de expugnatione Almariae urbis (Poema de Almería), a Latin poem which closes the Chronica Adefonsi Imperatoris (c.1148), and the Zorraquín Sancho lyric song (c.1158) quoted in the Crónica de la población de Ávila, all contain allusions to epic heroes (“Roldane”, “Olibero”, “Meo Cidi”, “Alvarus”, etc.). As many critics have pointed out, the Carolingian heroes Roland and Olivier are compared to the Cid and his best man, Álvar Fáñez, in the Poema de Almería. This text and the others listed above reveal the existence of vernacular epic songs possibly from as early as the last quarter of the 11th century, but most certainly from the 12th century.86 The issue of the PMC’s canonicity is still fraught with problems. Óscar Martín, who has studied the representation of wrath in the PMC, relates the ira regia (royal wrath) to the medieval theory on emotions. In his examination of the political dimension of wrath in the PMC and in the previous Cidian tradition, he has noted that the poem’s hero is presented as a warrior characterized by his humanity, humility, and fidelity towards the king.87 However, this characterization is new: la tradición cidiana anterior que conocemos principalmente a través de la Historia Roderici (HR) [y] el Carmen Campidoctoris (CC) no presenta 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 Neotraditionalists and oralists believe that they already were sung in the first third of the 11th century, and perhaps as early as the last quarter of the 10th century. See, among others, Martín de Riquer, Chanson de Roland, p. 27; Catalán, La épica española, p. 398; and Duggan, “The Interface”, p. 51. See Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid (b), p. clii. See Gómez Redondo, Poesía Española, p. 384; and Vaquero, “¿Qué sabemos?”. See Bautista, “Sancho II y Rodrigo Campeador”. See Vaquero, “El Cantar de la jura”; Bayo, “On the Nature”; and Óscar Martín, “La ira”, p. 123. See, among others, Rico, “Çorraquin Sancho”; Riquer, Chanson de Roland, p. 27; Bayo, “On the Nature”, pp. 23-24; and Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid (b), pp. lxxviii-lxxix. Germán Orduna (“El texto del Poema de Mio Cid”), Matthew Bailey (“Oral Composition”), and Óscar Martín (“El Cantar de mio Cid”) also believe in the existence of an oral Cidian epic tradition before the PMC. Martín, “La ira”, p.120. 396 Vaquero tal armonía entre rey y vasallo, pues no siempre el Cid es representado de una manera tan sumisa ni se mantienen de una manera nítida las jerarquías sociales; incluso la ira regia no se soluciona en los testimonios anteriores por medio de una reintegración vasallática, o, de hacerse, ésta no se plantea de manera tan explícita. La ira regia en el poema presenta, por lo tanto, una notable discordancia respecto a los testimonios anteriores.88 When we compare the PMC with earlier and later Cidian traditions we can see that the history of the Cid is very pliable. The character of the Cid, his literary persona, is very flexible; like folk or legendary figures, he can easily be shaped into different representations. Obviously, the PMC is not a point of departure in his biographical, historical, or epic development, but rather the culmination of a process. By “culmination” I mean that its development is the result of a long traditional process; it later continued with the Alfonsine chroniclers and some of their successors, after which it no longer had “traditional” or “popular” repercussion. Óscar Martín’s work helps us understand how the hero’s epic version of the PMC is both mediated by and, at the same time, a reaction to a previous tradition, which, in my opinion, is not the historiographical Latin tradition, but the popular tradition which was mainly vernacular and oral. It could be an oral epic tradition because, as Bayo points out, the PMC “presupposes the existence of an epic genre […] a genre aimed primarily at a wide audience […] [W]hen the Cid was composed, a reading public in the vernacular did not yet exist”.89 Perhaps, as Duggan explained, it was meant to be performed in front of King Alfonso VIII.90 Duggan’s hypothesis does not seem to be off the mark: “the extant poem [PMC] was modified by a juglar to appeal to the listeners at a location in the valley of the Jalón on one or two occasions in either 1199 or 1200”.91 My belief is that the PMC had a very short traditional life. It was performed only on a few occasions, probably at the itinerant court of Alfonso VIII, which could have included an audience similar to the one envisaged by Bayo: “people with different backgrounds and expectations”.92 Literate and illiterate people 88 89 90 91 92 Martín, “La ira”, pp. 120-21. Bayo, “On the Nature”, pp. 24-25. Montaner also thinks that the PMC was aimed at a diverse audience, not only to knights and infanzones (members of the lower nobility) of the Castilian Extremadura (Cantar de mio Cid (b), pp. cxxxviii, clxii-clxiii). Duggan, The “Cantar de Mio Cid”, pp. 82-107. Duggan, “The Interface”, p. 62 (my emphasis). Bayo, “On the Nature”, p. 25. The Poema de mio Cid and the Canon of the Spanish Epic Revisited 397 accompanying Alfonso VIII probably heard and watched those few performances. As Bayo puts it: Both groups were far from uniform: illiterate audiences included people from almost every walk of life (from the knights that listened to heroic songs according to historical sources to the peasants) […] More importantly, neither group formed a separate entity; there was an overlap which cannot be neglected. Literate people could understand perfectly the oral poetry composed in the vernacular of their own area and, although no doubt some of them despised it, others must have shown some sympathy towards it.93 The bibliography on the PMC is immense, but, unfortunately, not all the questions posed by the poem have been addressed or solved. There are still many enigmatic points that may never be satisfactorily explained. One of these points that has been widely debated is the date of its composition. “Neotraditionalists” (and some “oralists”) date the poem to the mid-12th century (c.1140), whereas “individualists” postpone it to the early 13th century (c.1200). Though the later date is the one accepted by the majority of critics today, what is at issue is a span of about fifty years. Why is the exact date so important? It is due to the PMC’s chronological relationship with the Historia Roderici (HR), the anonymous Latin biography of the Cid most likely composed around 1185, although some historians assign an earlier date to it.94 If the PMC was composed before HR, the vernacular text would be the source of both the Castilian hero’s Latin biography and of the Poema de Almería. If, on the other hand, the PMC was composed after HR, then the epic poem derived from the learned Latin text. Regarding the contention of roughly a fifty-year difference in dating the PMC, Inés Fernández-Ordóñez makes a very important point. With such a short period of time (1150-1200), we could have a similar case like when we date a medieval document: no se debe confundir primera documentación de una estructura lingüística o de una palabra con su aparición o primera existencia […] [El Mio Cid] [c]omo texto sujeto a un proceso de transmisión oral (o manuscrita en la Edad Media), esa gesta puede haber evolucionado con el tiempo y haber sido actualizada al presente de cada “transmisor”, de 93 94 Bayo, “On the Nature”, p. 25. See Fletcher, in Barton and Fletcher, The World of El Cid, pp. 95-96. 398 Vaquero modo que es imposible saber si todos los aspectos del Poema conservado en el manuscrito reflejan el texto original.95 Though agreeing with Fernández-Ordóñez, I do wonder if there ever was “an original text”. When dealing with works from the oral tradition, I am inclined to think that there were rather “cantares” (songs), as historians call them. As I previously mentioned, chroniclers refer to cantares de gesta: “Algunos dizen en sus cantares”, “dizen en los cantares de las gestas”, “la estoria del rey don Sancho assi como la cuentan los joglares”, “Mas esto, comoquier que lo cuentan asi los joglares, no fue asi verdad”, etc. Obviously, they are referring to songs transmitted orally by juglares (minstrels), songs that most probably existed before the PMC. Montaner, in his attempts to delineate the possible sources of the PMC, attributes the work to a single author, for it does not seem that the text was made up of different parts, or by cutting and pasting together several previous texts in a more or less skillful way. He concludes, “En suma, parece que el poeta épico se basó probablemente en la Historia Roderici y en otros datos de diversa procedencia, sobre todo de la historia oral, pero también en documentos y quizá en algún cantar de gesta anterior sobre el mismo héroe”.96 Óscar Martín agrees with Montaner about the previous traditions of the PMC: “esta tradición englobaría por una parte unas ‘creaciones literarias orales sobre el héroe’, es decir, una ‘tradición estructurada, a la que se puede llamar realmente literaria aunque sea oral’”.97 It is hard to decipher the relationship between oral history and the cantares de gesta. Undoubtedly, epic songs in medieval Iberia and beyond were repositories of national history. Bayo persuasively addresses this thorny issue: In Castile the cantares de gesta provided the people with a past. When in the second half of the thirteenth century the Alphonsine chroniclers set out to write a history in the vernacular for the first time, they had to come to grips with this version of the past elaborated by the epic poets, which most people had heard of and a few had also read about. The mythical past shaped and proposed by the cantares de gesta had been easily and 95 96 97 Fernández-Ordóñez, “El Mio Cid a través de las crónicas”, pp. 157-58 (my emphasis). Montaner (Cantar de mio Cid (b), pp. xcvii-xcviii) also comments about the fifty-year difference in dating the PMC. Montaner, “Aspectos literarios” (my emphasis). See also Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid (b), pp. xcviii-xcix. Martín, “La ira”, p. 121. The Poema de mio Cid and the Canon of the Spanish Epic Revisited 399 widely accepted, because they drew heavily on pre-existing traditions, and there were a host of local institutions ready to substantiate their inventions with the discovery of relics.98 How the cantares de gesta came to be songs performed by minstrels we do not know for sure. However, I am inclined to agree with Bayo that the juglares used pre-existing traditions. Were these pre-existing traditions what we call “oral history”? We do not know. What is clear is that “there were a host of local institutions ready to substantiate their inventions with the discovery of relics” or the establishment of tomb cults. Regarding the PMC, Montaner and others believe that, together with the “pre-existing traditions”, there could have been an amorphous or unclassifiable tradition that transmitted a series of unorganized events that could be related to San Pedro de Cardeña.99 Zaderenko, in her recent book El monasterio de Cardeña y el inicio de la épica cidiana, analyzes different sources linking the PMC to the Monastery of San Pedro de Cardeña (where the Cid was buried), and concludes that the extant manuscript of the poem not only was copied in this monastery but was also composed in its scriptorium.100 We do know that throughout the Middle Ages there was an important tomb cult in Cardeña, and the monks were actively promoting visits to the Cid’s grave.101 However, I disagree with Zaderenko on one key point: the Cid’s epic cycle did not start in Cardeña. This monastery was one among other local institutions that took the opportunity to promote the tomb cult of Castilian epic heroes, availing themselves of the burials in their sacred grounds to substantiate evergrowing legendary inventions. Stories concerning the Cid and other heroes, including Fernán González and the seven knights of Lara, were simultaneously created in Old Castile and were later appropriated by various churches and monasteries. Fernán González was buried in San Pedro de Arlanza, and his story was closely associated with this old Castilian monastery; the bodies of the seven knights of Lara were claimed by San Pedro de Arlanza, San Millán de la Cogolla, and the parish church of Salas. It seems evident that all these institutions were competing for the same audience. Were the cantares de gesta sung to the tombs’ visitors? It is possible, but I doubt it. We do know that these monasteries produced other types of literature to attract visitors: the 98 99 100 101 Bayo, “On the Nature”, p. 26. Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid (a), p. 11, and Cantar de mio Cid (b), p. lxvi; Martín, “La ira”, p. 121. See Roger Wright’s review of Zaderenko, El monasterio de Cardeña, pp. 191-92. See Bautista, “Cardeña, Pedro de Barcelos”. 400 Vaquero Leyenda cardeñense in Cardeña, and the Poema de Fernán González in Arlanza. The monks or clerics who composed these pieces undoubtedly knew cantares de gesta about Castilian and Carolingian heroes. The monk of Arlanza probably knew the now-lost Cantar de Fernán González, the song of Bernardo de Carpio, the Roncesvals traditions, and the songs about the Siete infantes de Lara.102 Similarly, at Cardeña they were familiar with the epic stories about the Cid, but I doubt that the PMC was composed there.103 As other critics have pointed out, even though the Castilian monastery is important in the PMC, the lack of connection between the hero’s tomb and his story is rather surprising. Zaderenko’s study is very valuable; it reveals, for instance, the influence of the Benedictine rule on the poem.104 Yet, here we have one more case of the dominance ascribed to the poem. Years ago, Smith argued that the PMC, composed in or shortly before 1207 by a lawyer from Burgos, was the first epic to be composed in Castilian.105 In his view, it was an innovative and experimental work of a learned cleric, and therefore did not depend on an existing epic tradition in Castilian. Eleven years later, Smith was more cautious: the author did not create the Castilian epic genre, but he transformed it dramatically.106 In her latest study, Zaderenko, who centers her analysis on the PMC, argues that the beginning of the Cidian epic cycle is to be found in Cardeña. Contrary to her assertion, my own view is that the PMC does not mark the beginning of the genre, but is rather the depository of several epic traditions. Another epic poem, Mocedades de Rodrigo, which also has survived in a single manuscript (National Library of Paris), seems to have been composed (or re-worked) by a cleric from Palencia (Old Castile) who was promoting the tomb of Saint Antolín located in his city. Like Deyermond in his investigations on the author of MR, Zaderenko also assumes that the author of the PMC is a cleric. The MR is another example of a rewritten text; most scholars agree that the poem reworked by the Palentine author was a gesta belonging to the popular tradition. Leonardo Funes, who has studied MR, calls its composition 102 103 104 105 106 See Vaquero, “¿Qué sabemos?”. Montaner believes that Cardeña’s traditions shaped the “Leyenda del Cid”, which will culminate in the Estoria del Cid in the 13th century (Cantar de mio Cid (b), pp. lxxxvii-viii, 348-50), and he concludes: “Se ha de advertir, no obstante, que aunque dicho monasterio fue sin duda un lugar privilegiado para la difusión de determinados relatos, más o menos verídicos, sobre el Campeador, no parece haber desempeñado inicialmente un papel especialmente notable en el surgimiento de la materia cidiana, ni en lo relativo a su desarrollo legendario ni a su conformación literaria” (Cantar de mio Cid (b), p. lxxxviii). See Wright’s review of Zaderenko’s El monasterio de Cardeña. Smith, The Making. Smith, “Toward a Reconciliation”. The Poema de mio Cid and the Canon of the Spanish Epic Revisited 401 “aluvional”, having been formed by sediments.107 The same can be said of the PMC. I believe it is made up of layers, of “sediments” that have undergone a process of weathering and erosion. It has been transported, mainly by juglares, as materials of sediment are transported by wind, water, or ice. Another way of approaching the PMC is to determine how many sediments or layers can be identified. As usual, critics are divided into those who see a single author108 and those who believe in two (or more) authors, which is the second thesis of Menéndez Pidal, the hypothesis of Zaderenko, and others I mentioned above. In reading the text, it is easy to consider that it was written by a single learned author: everything is tied up like clockwork. But its coherence, however, is sprinkled with a few contradictions which, in my opinion, reveal layers of previous works.109 As mentioned earlier, Montaner does not believe that the PMC was composed by piecing together works of different origins.110 But I am still convinced that a case can be made that the poem was composed from “recyclable” pieces, particularly in the first plot, the epic plot. With regard to the second plot, pertaining more to the romance genre, it is likely the work of an erudite author interested in this literary genre. I agree with Deyermond: “El poeta pudo muy bien haberse valido de varias fuentes poéticas, cronísticas o folclóricas, pero el empleo de varias fuentes es muy distinto de una multiplicidad de poetas”.111 Another reason attesting to this form of composition is, in my opinion, the fact that the PMC has so many important messages that it is impossible to suppose they were conceived or planned by a single author who had one specific audience in mind in a particular historical moment. To summarize all the underlying layers in terms of the poem’s geography and audience, these are some of the possibilities that critics have suggested and supported their assumptions with sound arguments: 1. Burgos (Russell, “San Pedro de Cardeña”; Smith, The Making; Deyermond, El “Cantar de Mio Cid”; Óscar Martín, “El Cantar”; etc.) 107 See Funes, “Gesta, refundición”, “Versiones cronísticas”, and Mocedades de Rodrigo. Cf. Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid (b), pp. xcviii-xcix. That was the first opinion of Menéndez Pidal, and the opinion of Smith, Montaner, and others. For a good review of the authorship problem, see Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid (b), pp. lxvi-lxxi. Vaquero, “El Cantar”. Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid (b), p. lxxxii. Deyermond, El “Cantar de Mio Cid”, p. 20. 108 109 110 111 402 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. Vaquero Extremadura soriana (Ménendez Pidal, En torno; Riaño Rodríguez, “Del autor”; Duggan, The “Cantar”; Marcos Marín, Cantar; Riaño y Gutiérrez, Cantar; Catalán, La épica española, pp. 468-71; and others) Aragon (Ubieto Arteta, “Observaciones”, El “Cantar”, pp. 189-90, and “El sentimiento”, p. 573; Pellen, Review of Ubieto Arteta’s El “Cantar”) Cuenca (Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid (b), pp. xcvi-xcvii) Toledo (Hernández, “Historia y epopeya”, pp. 464-67) Navarra (Georges Martin, “¿Fue Mio Cid?”) This list is only a sample, but it gives an idea of various important opinions on the subject. The study of the objectives or the principal ideological / political goals of the PMC yields similar variety: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. It served as a recruiting song and was addressed to the urban militias in preparation for the battle of Las Navas de Tolosa (1212), right after the Alarcos debacle (a battle between Alfonso VIII of Castile and the Almohads in 1195) (Fradejas Lebrero, Estudios épicos and “Intento”; Powers, A Society, pp. 50-52; Hernández, “Historia y epopeya”). It was a poem exalting the lower nobility in their struggle against the higher nobility, justifying their climb to honor and higher society by their exemplary military deeds (Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid (b), pp. cxxixcxxx). It was a poem aimed at the settlers of the frontier (“hombres de frontera”) to instill in their minds the possibility of social mobility (Lacarra, El “Poema”, pp. 116-17, 161-62, 202; Catalán, “El Mio Cid” and El Cid en la historia, pp. 123-78; Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid (a), pp. 511-12). It was a poem favoring a change in the exercise of old laws benefiting the nobility (i.e., private vengeance) to new laws giving more power to the monarch (Lacarra, El “Poema”). It was a song designed to please Alfonso VIII after his daughter Berenguela had been forced to divorce King Alfonso IX of León, which put his heirs in jeopardy and made it impossible to unite the kingdoms of Castile and León (Duggan, The “Cantar”). It was a tool to educate knights (Georges Martin, chapter in this volume). It was an important piece of propaganda for the monastery of San Pedro de Cardeña and its interests (Zaderenko, El monasterio de Cardeña). This list is only a small but representative sample of the different explanations advanced thus far. It justifies the “aluvional” or sedimentary condition of the The Poema de mio Cid and the Canon of the Spanish Epic Revisited 403 PMC. One last example of textual intervention that adds another layer to the final composition is the already mentioned connection of the text with Cardeña. Somebody has purposely erased the most important nexus of the hero’s cult in Cardeña: his burial place. Again, the omission of the Cid’s burial in the Castilian monastery is very surprising. Finally, let’s examine one more problem that the canonicity of the PMC has created: the poem’s supposed historicity. It is my belief that our view of the historical Cid has been distorted by the poem. Powell points out that the author of the PMC knew that Rodrigo’s wife, Jimena, was of royal birth (she was the great-granddaughter of Alfonso V of León), but the poet glossed over it: “The lack of this consciousness of status in the characters in the poem is useful artistically”.112 According to Montaner, it seems that the poet devalued the role of Jimena due to his artistic objectives.113 And yet, at the end of the PMC (v. 3742), the author alludes to the fact that the royal families of Navarre and Aragon now can claim the Cid as one of their ancestors since his daughters married princes from both royal houses. However, as Rico has pointed out, in the PMC “el parentesco regio es el punto de llegada y proporciona al Cid lo único que le falta”,114 that is, the Cid’s connection to the royal houses gives the hero the social status he justly deserves. As many critics have pointed out and Montaner summarizes: “el Cantar se basa justamente en la exaltación de la honra ganada por el Campeador gracias a su esfuerzo personal, frente a la meramente heredada, propia de la alta nobleza”.115 The fact that the Cid does not belong to the high nobility in the PMC is peculiar to this text, but not to the rest of the Cidian cycle. The Cid in the song about his exile preserved in the Crónica de Castilla (c.1300), the hero of the Jura de Santa Gadea preserved in that same chronicle and in ballads, and the Rodrigo Díaz of many romances, treat King Alfonso as an equal and at times with disrespect. The Cid of the first part of Partición and of Mocedades de Rodrigo is also very discourteous towards King Fernando. In Partición the hero is raised with Urraca, King Fernando’s daughter, at the home of Arias Gonzalo, the princess’ tutor. In Mocedades de Rodrigo (vv. 235-37), the hero’s mother is the daughter of a Count. It is clear, therefore, that the fact that the Cid does not belong to the high nobility in the PMC has distorted the view not only of the epic Cid, but also of 112 113 114 115 Powell, Epic and Chronicle, pp. 26-27. Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid (a), pp. 420-22. Rico, “Un canto de frontera,” p. xxxi. Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid (a), pp. 421-22. 404 Vaquero the historical figure, and it is due undoubtedly to the canonicity of the venerable old text. Recent works by historians who have studied the early Castilian and Leonese nobility have shown that not only Jimena, but also the Cid, belonged to the higher nobility of both kingdoms.116 Lacarra, based on those recent studies, has published two articles analyzing the implications of those findings on our reading of the PMC.117 In one of these articles, she emphasized that the historical Cid was not a member of the lower nobility (infanzón), but that he belonged to the high nobility like his wife Jimena. Lacarra concludes, Rodrigo, lejos de ser un simple infanzón, estaba excelentemente emparentado con todas las monarquías hispanas. Era primo segundo del rey Fernando I de Castilla y de Ramiro de Aragón, y tío de Sancho II de Castilla, de Alfonso VI, de García de Galicia y de las infantes Urraca y Elvira.118 In her second provocative essay, “Rodrigo Díaz re-visitado”, she argues, against the unanimous opinion, that even in the PMC Rodrigo belonged to the upper nobility by implication. Her reading distorts many lines of the PMC (vv. 1373-76, 1881-88, 1901-06, 2082-85, 3275-79, 3296-300, 3377-81, etc.), where it is stated and/or implied that the Cid is an infanzón, i.e. a member of the lower nobility. It is clear that the canonicity of the PMC must be questioned since the Cid’s representation in this work has little to do with the epic Cid and other CastilianLeonese epic heroes or with the historical Rodrigo Díaz. Some historians of the Spanish Middle Ages, who have taken the figure of the epic Cid as historically accurate, have emphasized the status of Rodrigo Díaz as a lesser noble. Even the entry for “El Cid” in Wikipedia states: “Born a member of the minor nobility, El Cid was brought up at the court of King Ferdinand the Great”.119 116 117 118 119 Martínez Díez, El Cid histórico; Torres Sevilla-Quiñones de León, Linajes nobiliarios, El Cid y otros señores, and “El linaje del Cid”. Lacarra, “El linaje” and “Rodrigo Díaz re-visitado”. Lacarra, “El linaje”, p. 124 (my emphasis). <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/El_Cid> (Web. September 23, 2014). Lacarra (“El linaje”, p. 124) quotes Moreta Velayos: “¿Cómo se explica que Rodrigo Díaz, un simple infanzón que vivió en la segunda mitad del siglo XI, fuera elegido protagonista del principal cantar de gesta de la literatura española? ¿Por qué los historiadores del medievo inventaron para él una genealogía y una biografía legendarias?” (Moreta Velayos, Myo Çid el Campeador; my emphasis). The examples are abundant: “Jamás, por mucho que nos empecinemos, sabremos lo que pensó y sintió realmente Ruy Díaz el infanzón de Bivar” (Moreta Velayos, “Entre la historia y la literatura: El Cid”, p. 380; my emphasis). Another example: Senra The Poema de mio Cid and the Canon of the Spanish Epic Revisited 405 In the article in which I first questioned the canonicity of the poem, I concluded that a masterpiece like the PMC should not be left out of our syllabi; however, its canonicity must be questioned. In my opinion, and in the opinion of other Hispano-medievalists, Partición is as much a masterpiece as the PMC, and it is not only for this reason that it should be studied more. I also believe that, of the Cidian cycle, Partición and MR were the best-known epic texts in Medieval Iberia and were the ones that probably had a greater impact on other Cidian texts. After reviewing some of the distortions that the PMC has caused both in literary appreciation and in historical accuracy, the question of how to approach it still remains. Montaner has a very good answer: “al acercarse a una obra como el Cantar de mio Cid [PMC] [hay que tener en cuenta] que no se trata de un documento histórico, ni siquiera de una biografía más o menos fantaseada, sino de un texto plenamente literario, de un poema épico de primera magnitud, y como tal hay que entenderlo y, sobre todo, disfrutarlo”.120 Works Cited Armistead, Samuel G., “The Initial Verses of the Cantar de Mio Cid”, La Corónica 12 (1984), 178-86. 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Smith, Colin C., “Sobre la difusión del Poema de mio Cid”, in Jean Marie d’Heur and Nicoletta Cherubini (eds.), Études de Philologie Romane et d’Histoire Littéraire offertes à Jules Horrent à l’occasion de son soixantième anniversaire, Liége: Gedit, 1980, pp. 417-27. Smith, Colin C., The Making of the Poema de mio Cid, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983. Smith, Colin C., “The First Prose Redaction of the Poema de mio Cid”, Modern Language Review 82 (1987), 869-86. Smith, Colin C., “Toward a Reconciliation of Ideas about Medieval Spanish Epic”, The Modern Language Review 89 (1994), 622-34. Soons, Alan, “The Romances of the Cancionero de Wolfenbüttel”, Bulletin of Hispanic Studies 68 (1991), 305-09. Torres Sevilla-Quiñones de León, Margarita C., Linajes nobiliarios en León y Castilla (siglos IX-XIII), Salamanca: Junta de Castilla y León, 1999. Torres Sevilla-Quiñones de León, Margarita C., El Cid y otros señores de la guerra, León: Universidad de León, 2000. Torres Sevilla-Quiñones de León, Margarita C., “El linaje del Cid”, Anales de la Universidad de Alicante: Historia Medieval 13 (2000-02), 6-49. Ubieto Arteta, Antonio, “Observaciones al Cantar de Mio Cid”, Arbor 37 (1957), 145-70. Ubieto Arteta, Antonio, El “Cantar de Mio Cid” y algunos problemas históricos, Valencia: Anubar, 1973. Ubieto Arteta, Antonio, “El sentimiento antileonés en el Cantar de Mio Cid”, in En la España medieval. Estudios dedicados al profesor D. Julio González, Madrid: Universidad Complutense, 1980, pp. 557-74. <http://revistas.ucm.es/index.php/ELEM/article/ viewFile/ELEM8080110557A/25470>. Web. 30 Sept. 2014. Vaquero, Mercedes, “The Tradition of the Cantar de Sancho II in Fifteenth-Century Historiography”, Hispanic Review 57 (1989), 137-54. Vaquero, Mercedes, “El Cantar de la jura de Santa Gadea y la tradición del Cid como vasallo rebelde”, Olifant 15 (1990), 47-84. Vaquero, Mercedes, “El episodio del cohombro de los Siete infantes de Lara en el marco de la épica española”, in José Manuel Lucía Megías (ed.), Actas del VI Congreso The Poema de mio Cid and the Canon of the Spanish Epic Revisited 411 Internacional de la Asociación Hispánica de Literatura Medieval (Alcalá de Henares, 12-16 de septiembre de 1995), Alcalá de Henares: Universidad de Alcalá de Henares, 1997, pp. 1543-53. Vaquero, Mercedes, “The Poema de Mio Cid and the Canon of the Spanish Epic”, La Corónica 33.2 (2005), 209-30. Vaquero, Mercedes, “¿Qué sabemos del Cantar de Fernán González?”, Romance Quarterly 61.3 (2014), 202-14. Wright, Roger, review of Irene Zaderenko, El monasterio de Cardeña y el inicio de la épica cidiana, La Corónica 42.2 (2014), 191-92. Zaderenko, Irene, Problemas de autoría, de estructura y de fuentes en el “Poema de mio Cid”, Alcalá de Henares: Universidad de Alcalá de Henares, 1998. Zaderenko, Irene, “El Cid en el romancero viejo”, paper read at the 38th International Congress on Medieval Studies, Medieval Institute, Western Michigan University, Kalamazoo, 2003. Zaderenko, Irene, “Épica y romancero del Cid”, La Corónica 33.2 (2005): 231-45. Zaderenko, Irene, El monasterio de Cardeña y el inicio de la épica cidiana, Alcalá de Henares: Universidad de Alcalá, 2013. 412 Bautista Chapter 14 The Poema de mio Cid in 13th- and 14th-Century Romance Historiography Francisco Bautista Translated by Peter Mahoney 1 Introduction The shift from Latin to Romance in a general history of Spain propelled and guided by Alfonso X (1252-84), as well as the encyclopedic nature of his historiographical projects – such as the General estoria (1270-84) – gave rise to a new form of historical narrative that was broader and more inclusive. It made use of sources written in Latin, Arabic, and Romance that were not exclusively historical in nature but also literary. Just as Ovid’s Heroides and Metamorphoses were fundamental sources for the General estoria, the compilers of the Estoria de España, in addition to many historiographical texts, exploited poetic works connected to Spain’s past. While some of these writings are now lost, others have survived, such as the Poema de Fernán González (c.1250) and the Poema de mio Cid (PMC), that were used extensively in the Estoria. Through the creative and complex use of these literary works, heroic figures and deeds straddling both history and poetry were integrated for the first time in a very original historical text, the Estoria de España, which appealed to a much wider audience than that of the earlier Latin chronicles, thus reaching such a diffusion and influence as to endure well into the Siglo de Oro. Excluding royal figures, the Cid is by far the only character to occupy such large number of pages in the Estoria de España. It is possibly an indication of the special inclination Alfonso X or members of his court felt towards Rodrigo Díaz as a paradigmatic or especially attractive figure. Their high esteem for the Campeador is also the result of a series of literary works that had been written about him as well as a vast and diverse body of writings narrating his exploits. With the exception of the Carmen Campidoctoris, which can be dated between the end of the 11th century and the end of the 12th century, the Alfonsine compilers were acquainted and worked with the major texts about the Cid composed before 1270: a history in Arabic, which has only survived in fragments, written soon after the event it describes, the conquest of Valencia; the Historia Roderici (12th century); the Liber regum (c.1207); the PMC; the © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004363755_016 Poema de mio Cid in 13th- and 14th-Century Romance Historiography 413 now-lost *Cantar de Sancho II (or *Cantar de las particiones), and other general historiographical works that specifically mention Rodrigo, such as the Latin chronicles by Lucas de Tuy (c.1236) and Rodrigo Jiménez de Rada (c.1243). The very abundance of material, which often provided detailed and accurate narrations, must have posed a serious challenge to the Alfonsine historians and perhaps was one of the problems they faced while compiling the chronicle, an issue I will consider later in this chapter. In the following pages, I will explore how the figure of Rodrigo Díaz, and more specifically, the contents of the PMC, were integrated into the major Romance chronicles produced in the period spanning from the reign of Alfonso X through the first half of the 14th century. It is a topic that has been heavily explored from multiple perspectives: from ecdotic considerations – providing an essential basis for the critical edition of the Poema – to ideological interpretations that take the Cid’s memory as an opportunity for political discussions. It has been, moreover, the object of many controversies, fundamentally between those who see in the chronistic variations traces of poetic reworkings, and those who interpret them as the result of historiographical writing (and rewriting). Today, thanks to a better understanding of Romance chronicles’ evolution and the structural guidelines that govern each text, it is possible to evaluate more accurately this corpus despite the many uncertainties that still exist; on the other hand, more diverse analytical perspectives have been developed. It is fair to say that this is a rich and productive field of study, with many promising lines of research and numerous questions that need to be answered.1 2 Texts and Titles The redaction of the Estoria de España – whose beginning is usually dated to the year 1270 – generated an authentic literary tradition that led to the rewriting of the entire or a part of King Alfonso’s planned history at different moments in time. It was more common to rewrite only sections of the chronicle, which resulted in the production of a series of texts generally known as “crónicas generales de España”. Almost invariably, the most widely disseminated and reelaborated section was the one beginning with King Fernando I 1 In the scholarship on this topic, the most important study is Catalán’s “Crónicas generales y cantares de gesta: el Mio Cid de Alfonso X”, published in 1963 (which I cite as “El Mio Cid de Alfonso X” as it was reprinted in Catalán, El Cid en la historia y sus inventores, pp. 179-224). This work renewed critical interest in chronistic texts, initiated a new era in the study of this problem, and laid the groundwork for future research. 414 Bautista (1037-65), which coincides with the Cid’s biography distributed between the reigns of Fernando I as well as those of his sons, Sancho II and Alfonso VI. The reworkings of the Estoria de España, which had already begun during the reign of Alfonso X, had a particularly intense and creative moment between the end of the 13th century and the beginning of the 14th century, when the most important texts that circulated in the years to follow were produced. Although they are not completely independent works – they are textually related to one another –, each one of them either incorporated new materials to varying degrees or reelaborated inherited materials from a new perspective. When we speak of the Estoria de España, we are referring to a complex textual matter.2 There are three known versions of this work: two of them were produced in different historical moments in King Alfonso X’s court, and the third was elaborated during the reign of his son Sancho IV (1284-95). The first one, called Versión primitiva, was written between 1270 and 1274 and is the immediate and direct result of the Alfonsine project; it is, therefore, the one that best represents the initial concept that governed the first composition of the Estoria. The second version, known as Versión crítica and composed at the end of Alfonso X’s reign (1282-84), is an attempt at resuming and completing a compilation that had remained unfinished, and it was thus composed at a distinct historical moment and not always with the same poetic or ideological premises. Finally, the third redaction, the Versión amplificada compiled at the court of Sancho IV in 1289, represents a new attempt at bringing the incomplete project to a close, and here we also have a notable distancing from the original Alfonsine propositions. Neither one of the last two redactions are directly related to each other, nor are they based on the definitive text of the Versión primitiva. Rather, both can be traced to different drafts within the elaboration’s process of the Estoria. In the case of the Versión amplificada, it draws on a draft that was in an advanced state, whereas the Versión crítica depends on one less developed. All of this should be kept in mind in order to properly assess the variations between these two texts. In addition to these versions, we also have various chronicles dealing with the history of the kings of Castile, which I discuss in the pages ahead. A major difficulty for analyzing the section containing data about the Cid is the lack of any testimony of the Versión primitiva beginning with Fernando I’s reign. From this point on, we have no manuscript of the first redaction of the 2 The outline that follows is based on Catalan’s De Alfonso X al Conde de Barcelos and De la silva textual al taller historiográfico alfonsí; Fernández-Ordóñez, “Versión crítica” de la “Estoria de España”; and Bautista, La “Estoria de España” en época de Sancho IV and “Para la tradición textual de la Estoria de España”. Poema de mio Cid in 13th- and 14th-Century Romance Historiography 415 Estoria de España, which most likely never reached a definitive stage, remaining perhaps at the level of draft. Based on the extant texts, we can establish two distinct branches representing the characteristic way in which the Alfonsine compilation was reworked in general, and sources pertaining to the Cid in particular. On the one hand, we have the Versión crítica, which offers a consistent and uniform account of Castile’s history and the deeds having to do with Rodrigo Díaz. On this text depends the so-called Crónica de veinte reyes, which can best be defined as a copy of the Versión crítica, limited to the section beginning with Fruela II (924-25) and ending with Fernando II (1157-88), and which is brought to completion with other historical works covering up to the reign of Fernando III (1217-52). The Crónica de veinte reyes, whose archetype can probably be dated in the first half of the 14th century when it circulated widely, introduced very few changes to the text of the Versión crítica, to such an insignificant extent as to be considered a mere testimony of it. For this reason, when dealing with this text I will simply refer to it as Versión crítica.3 The second branch of the manuscript tradition consists of the Versión amplificada and a group of post-Alfonsine texts and chronicles whose dates of composition are not always ascertainable: manuscript F (Biblioteca Universitaria de Salamanca, ms. 2628, 15th century), which transmits a text some critics have called Versión mixta; the Crónica manuelina, summarized by Don Juan Manuel in his Crónica abreviada (c.1320-25); the Crónica de Castilla; the Crónica de 1344; and the Crónica ocampiana. All of these texts either reflect or inherit a factitious narrative about Alfonso VI’s reign that totally affects the Cid’s biography. This narration is divided into two parts. Each was based on a different textual model and redacted at a different time, and their respective poetics do not always coincide. The split can be accurately identified thanks to the royal codex transmitting the Versión amplificada (E2 = Escorial, ms. X-I-4, late-13th century), where originally there was a considerable material lacuna spanning from the siege of Aledo to the final years of Alfonso VI’s reign and the Cid’s death. Between the end of the 13th century and the beginning of the 14th century, the lacuna in codex E2 was completed with a text typically referred to as the “Interpolación cidiana” (the Cid’s Interpolation), which is the title I will 3 We should keep in mind that this affects radically the studies on the Crónica de veinte reyes carried out before Inés Fernández-Ordóñez’s critical discovery published in 1993,“Versión crítica” de la “Estoria de España”; those works are, in fact, about the second Alfonsine redaction of the Estoria de España – that is to say, the Versión crítica. I have in mind the important studies by Powell, Epic and Chronicle; and Dyer, El “Mio Cid” del taller alfonsí; as well as more general studies by Chalon, L’histoire et l’épopée castillane; and Pattison, From Legend to Chronicle. In the pages ahead, I will quote from this section of the Versión crítica using Campa’s edition, La “Estoria de España” de Alfonso X, indicating only the page number. 416 Bautista use throughout this chapter.4 Although they do not directly derive from E2, all the other representatives of this branch show a similar factitious composition, indicating, thus, a common model that also joined these two parts together: one that included the reigns of Fernando I, Sancho II, and the first part of Alfonso VI’s, similar to the Versión amplificada, while the other, covering the remaining years of Alfonso VI’s reign until the Cid’s death, reproduced or reelaborated the “Interpolación”. Analyzing this corpus allows us to deduce a chronology of the process by which the Cid’s image was constructed in Romance historiography and isolate three important moments. The first one concerns how King Alfonso’s chroniclers integrated the Cid’s biography into Spain’s history. The Versión crítica belongs to this phase; however, the accounts about Fernando I, Sancho II, and the first part of Alfonso VI’s reign – included in the Versión amplificada as well as in other works based on the same model – also offer indispensable data for studying this phase. A second moment corresponds to the elaboration of the “Interpolación cidiana”, which probably took place soon after 1289 when the oldest sections of codex E2 were copied (probably during the reign of Sancho IV). Although this text was based on Alfonsine materials, it also included episodes and information originating from new sources that resulted in a narration very different from the Versión crítica. A third moment can be assigned to the historiographical rewritings of the factitious model I mentioned earlier, the most important being those that are produced in the Crónica manuelina – likely redacted at the end of the 13th century – and in the Crónica de Castilla, pertaining to the times of Fernando IV (1295-1312). In the next few pages, I will study the representation of the Cid in Romance historiography while focusing on these three phases. 3 The Poema de mio Cid in Alfonso X’s Historiographical Workshop For an analysis of the historiographical image of the Cid created by Alfonso X’s collaborators, we have at our disposal two groups of texts that offer a contrasting testimony of the compilation process, thus providing the opportunity for a more profound and dynamic understanding of how it was carried out. On the one hand, we have the Versión crítica, which was produced during the final 4 See Catalán’s analysis of E2 in De Alfonso X al Conde de Barcelos, pp. 64-69. E2 is the codex Menéndez Pidal used for his edition of the second volume of the Estoria de España, which he called Primera crónica general. In the pages ahead, I will cite this work as PCG, indicating page number, column (a, b), and lines. Poema de mio Cid in 13th- and 14th-Century Romance Historiography 417 years of Alfonso X’s life. This work presents a continuous and consistent narration that uses the same sources for the Cid’s entire biography and employs similar criteria throughout, underscoring, in particular, the tendency to abbreviate and reduce the accounts to their most basic elements. The Cidian sources include the *Cantar de Sancho II, the Historia Roderici, an Arabic history about the conquest of Valencia, and the PMC.5 The second group of texts is made up of the Versión amplificada and a number of works closely related sharing the same narrative until the chapter about the siege of Aledo (PCG, chapter 896).6 Up to this point, the model for all these texts was a compilation produced in Alfonso X’s court that was based on the same sources as the Versión crítica and was relatively close to what the Versión primitiva would have been had it been completed. The most faithful witness of this model is manuscript F, which coincides in great part with the Versión amplificada transmitted by E2, yet it lacks some supplementary amplifications characteristic of this codex and the texts that derive from it. At times, the text of manuscript F has been called Versión mixta, indicating that it may be a combination of both a testimony of the Versión primitiva and the Versión amplificada. However, a close examination of manuscript F shows only very few significant differences with E2 – the most important ones are found in the first chapters dealing with Fernando I – none of which are related to the poetic sources. Therefore, I am inclined to believe that F transmits an early stage of the Versión amplificada, although it is a matter that still remains unresolved.7 The importance of the text transmitted in F rests also on the influence it later wielded, since it was used as the base text for the Crónica 5 For the sources that were used, see Catalán, “El Mio Cid de Alfonso X”, pp. 191-204. For the Arabic history, traditionally attributed to Ibn ‘Alqamah, see Montaner Frutos and Boix Jovaní, Guerra en Sarq Al’andalus, pp. 215-16, where it is suggested that there were actually two Arabic histories and the one used in the Alfonsine workshop was by Ibn Alfarağ. Nevertheless, the narrative coherence of both the Versión crítica and the post-Alfonsine texts suggests that the Alfonsine workshop used for this section a single Arabic source (which probably included the elegy about Valencia). For the inclusion of the *Cantar de Sancho II in the Estoria de España, see Reig, El Cantar de Sancho II; Fradejas Lebrero, Estudios Épicos: “El Cerco de Zamora”; Chalon, L’histoire et l’épopée castillane, pp. 277-368; Pattison, From Legend to Chronicle, pp. 93114; Catalán, La épica española, pp. 38-51; Montaner Frutos, “La huida de Vellido”; and Lacomba, Au-delà du “Cantar de mio Cid”. 6 About its sources, see Menéndez Pidal, Primera crónica general, vol. II, pp. clxxiv-clxxxiii, along with Catalán’s revisions in “El Mio Cid de Alfonso X”, pp. 191-95. 7 This is also the position taken by Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid, p. 528 (with references to his earlier studies). For the Versión mixta, see, among others, Catalán, La épica española, p. 38; Campa, “Los reyes de Castilla en la Estoria de España”; and Hijano Villegas, “La materia cidiana en las crónicas generales”, which includes a useful bibliography. 418 Bautista manuelina and this chronicle, in turn, was later used for the Crónica de Castilla where it was heavily reelaborated. Because there are hardly any substantial variations in this section that can be dated back to the Alfonsine compilation, I will only refer in what follows to Menéndez Pidal’s edition of the Versión amplificada.8 In the first part of the Versión amplificada, which includes the first cantar of the PMC and a few verses of the second cantar (approximately through vv. 109498), all the recensions – from the Versión crítica to the Versión amplificada and the texts related to it – not only derive from an identical translation or prosification of its sources, but also from the same compilation in which these sources had already been interwoven and subjected to an annalistic structure. This same relationship between both versions is detected in the earlier sections of the Estoria de España, and like those sections, this one is probably related to slightly different stages of the compilation: somewhat more archaic in the case of the Versión crítica, and more elaborated in the case of the Versión amplificada. This explains why, although the Versión crítica tends to abbreviate the earlier compilation, it has preserved certain details from its sources – namely the PMC as well as other texts – that would have been eliminated later in the process of redacting the Estoria.9 Nevertheless, though it is possible that some variations could be attributed to occasional suppressions in the Versión amplificada, aware of the difficulty to prove this observation without the text of the Versión primitiva, one can only attempt to justify it through indirect rational deductions. The first cantar of the PMC to be incorporated in both the Versión crítica (pp. 467-81) and the Versión amplificada (PCG, chapters 851-62) takes place between the fourth and the seventh year of Alfonso VI’s reign.10 All this mate8 9 10 It is worth noting that Menéndez Pidal included the main variants of F in his edition of the Estoria de España. The text of manuscript F, which corresponds to chapters 850-62 of the PCG, has been edited by Dyer, El “Mio Cid” del taller alfonsí, pp. 68-87. This phenomenon was correctly explained by Catalán in “El Mio Cid de Alfonso X”, pp. 21921. Given the relationship between the texts and the propensity for abbreviation in the Versión crítica, it is less likely that the inclusion of some details was the result of its author’s “memoria auditiva”, as Dyer proposed in “El “Mio Cid” del taller alfonsí, p. 210. We can be sure that the chroniclers began to borrow from the poem when explaining Alfonso VI’s decision to banish the Cid (Versión crítica, p. 467; PCG, cap. 850, p. 523a48-53), although this section corresponds to a lacuna in the Poema that resulted from the loss of the first folio of the only extant codex. For this matter, see Montaner Frutos, “De nuevo sobre los versos iniciales perdidos” and Cantar de Mio Cid, pp. 561-63, 631-32; also see Fernández-Ordóñez, “El Mio Cid a través de las crónicas medievales”, pp. 164-65. Although it is difficult to know for sure – since the Alfonsine compilers skillfully intertwined the Poema de mio Cid in 13th- and 14th-Century Romance Historiography 419 rial is integrated into the history in a similar way – after narrating King Alfonso’s motives for ordering the Cid to leave his kingdom that derives from the Historia Roderici (§11) – and is subjected to the same treatment: identical division into chapters; similar annalistic structure; and the same use of other sources, as when it relates the succession in the Sevillian taifa – borrowed from Jiménez de Rada’s Historia arabum – after the account of Álvar Fáñez’s embassy to King Alfonso (Versión crítica, p. 476; PCG, p. 531b21-25). Since they are based on the same compilation, both works reflect the very same treatment of the PMC, which explains why they share the same additions and suppressions, and have such a textual conformity.11 A comparison of the two versions of the Estoria de España with the PMC reveals that the Alfonsine compilers used a text similar to the extant one transmitted by a manuscript very close to that of the Vivar codex (dating to the beginning of the 14th century), but older.12 I will next examine how the poem was utilized in the Alfonsine scriptorium – holding off on compilatory issues, such as chronology and the integration of sources I have already mentioned – in order to succinctly describe some peculiarities characterizing each version. Finally, I will discuss how the rest of the Poema was used in a section of the Versión crítica that corresponds to the “Interpolación cidiana” in other texts. The “Interpolación” reveals a different relationship with the archetype of the Estoria de España and presents an account so different from the one in the Versión crítica as to require a separate study. When integrating the Poema into the structure of the Estoria, the Alfonsine chroniclers preserved the essential aspects of the narrative plot, yet they consciously transformed its language, abbreviating certain episodes and suppressing some details. There is an overall desire to modify the vocabulary in order to eliminate any trace of assonance, although it still can be detected in some parts of the text. In adapting epic style to historiographical discourse, 11 12 narration about Alfonso VI’s decree to banish the Cid narrated in the Historia Roderici (§11) with the opening verses of the Poema – it is likely that the chroniclers began to use the poetic text with the phrase “et enbio luego dezir al Çid por sus cartas” (Versión crítica, p. 467; PCG, p. 523a48), since the king’s letters are not mentioned in the Latin history. Catalán, “El Mio Cid de Alfonso X”, p. 218; Smith, “The First Prose Redaction”; Dyer, El “Mio Cid” del taller alfonsí, p. 197. This is one of Catalán’s most important conclusions, later confirmed and further developed by other scholars. Catalán’s findings contradicted earlier hypotheses defended by Menéndez Pidal, who argued that Romance historiographical accounts were based on poetic reworkings of the Poema (“El Mio Cid de Alfonso X”, p. 218). See Gómez Redondo, “La materia cidiana en la crónica general alfonsí”, for a more complex approach along the line of Menéndez Pidal. 420 Bautista even the formulaic system became blurred. Allusive verses or emotional exclamations either disappear or are elaborated in an expository style.13 Irony and humor disappear, resulting in a flatter discourse that can be observed, for example, in the episode with the Count of Barcelona. The use of the Poema is never passive; rather, it is determined by the will or need to interpret or avail oneself of the text as a source of information, adapting it to the language of the historiographical prose. The discursive element in the poetic text, which was altered at times only slightly by the compilers, corresponds to the characters’ speeches that were reproduced more faithfully, often preserving poetic characteristics such as epithets or assonance.14 It is fair to say that, in general, the style of the Poema has undergone the most profound transformation, so much so that had the poetic text ever been lost, it would be impossible to recover its verses using the historiographical prose.15 With respect to the narrative plan, the Alfonsine chroniclers seem to adhere to the Poema’s storyline, reproducing it without adding sweeping modifications to the sequence of events. Although they preserve the major characters of their source, the names of some secondary ones are eliminated while at the same time suppressing some of the toponyms, especially in the most abbreviated sections of the chronicle. The compilers clearly judged the Cid’s military exploits narrated in the first part of the Poema to be more important than the episodes depicting him with his family. For that reason, the first part of the poem (until v. 424), which describes the Cid’s journey to Burgos and Cardeña as well as his farewell to Jimena and his daughters, was radically summarized; on the other hand, the battles with the Moors or with the Count of Barcelona more closely follow the poetic text. As they do with the exploitation of other sources, especially if they were markedly literary, the compilers did not hesitate to interpolate glosses or briefly elaborate upon a particular point in order to make the narration more comprehensible or true-to-life.16 As first pointed out by Diego Catalán – whose view was generally accepted by later scholars – these brief additions should not be considered traces of poetic variants, but rather the result of the compilation process; they should be use to characterize 13 14 15 16 For example, “Veyénlo los de Alcocer, ¡Dios, cómmo se alabavan!” (v. 580) as compared to “Los moros quando los vieron yr, començaronse de alabar commo fueran esforçados, e se touieran bien” (Versión crítica, p. 471; similarly in Versión amplificada, PCG, p. 526b9-11). Powell, Epic and Chronicle, pp. 72-74; Rochwert-Zuili, “Du Poème à l’Histoire”, pp. 137-52. Powell, Epic and Chronicle, p. 88. Also see Badía Margarit’s detailed analysis, “Dos tipos de lengua, cara a cara”, and Montaner Frutos, “Cave carmen!”. Catalán, “El Mio Cid de Alfonso X”, pp. 212-16; Dyer, El “Mio Cid” del taller alfonsí, pp. 202-04; and Rochwert-Zuili, “Du Poème à l’Histoire”, pp. 87-130. Poema de mio Cid in 13th- and 14th-Century Romance Historiography 421 the poetics and objectives of the Alfonsine project, and not to document the existence of reworkings carried out by juglares (minstrels).17 A comparative analysis reveals that the Versión amplificada is far more faithful to its poetic source than the Versión crítica. This is not because the chroniclers consulted the Poema again, but because the Versión amplificada more closely resembles the Alfonsine compilation elaborated between 1270 and 1274 that was destined to be used for the composition of the Versión primitiva which remained unfinished. In effect, such a greater degree of fidelity to the Poema is also generally found in the rest of the chronicle, especially in the section spanning from Ramiro I (842-50) to the siege of Aledo, where the Versión amplificada is usually closer to its sources and less innovative than the Versión crítica. In this regard, the Versión crítica simplifies the details and episodes of the poem; for example, it eliminates the names of the Jewish moneylenders; it suppresses the characters’ speeches, especially when someone other than the Cid is speaking; it reduces the elaboration of battle scenes, focusing more on their outcomes; and it abbreviates the story as a whole.18 At times, the Versión crítica modifies its source like when, for example, it attributes the ruse of filling the chests with sand exclusively to Martín Antolínez, which was surely done in order not to diminish Rodrigo’s character.19 It also softens the tensions between the Cid and King Alfonso by omitting some references to the ira regia (royal wrath).20 In all those cases in which the Versión amplificada shows to be closer to the Poema, one can safely attribute them to the fact that it has inherited, and more faithfully reflects, the original compilation produced in the Alfonsine workshop, and with it, the contents of its source. The Versión amplificada is nevertheless a rewriting of the primitive compilation, even though without the text of the Versión primitiva it would be difficult to identify its particular interventions. Analyzed as a whole, the redaction of the Estoria de España elaborated under Sancho IV is characterized by a verbal amplification and the sporadic interpolation of glosses based either on conclusions as can be gathered from some details or on rationalizations of its 17 18 19 20 Catalán, “El Mio Cid de Alfonso X”, pp. 216-18. Catalán, “El Mio Cid de Alfonso X”, p. 219; Dyer, El “Mio Cid” del taller alfonsí, pp. 207-10. According to the Versión crítica, “Et Martyn Antolines dixo commo non le podrie manleuar todo quanto el auie menester, mas que mandase fenchir dos arcas de arena e çerrar las muy bien, e el las leuarie de su parte a dos mercadores muy rricos que avie y en la çibdat” (p. 468). The narration of this episode in the Versión amplificada is more faithful to the Poema (PCG, p. 523b). Dyer, El “Mio Cid” del taller alfonsí, p. 209. 422 Bautista development.21 For the most part, this work was carried out without consulting the sources again, which led Catalán to characterize it as essentially “retórico”. Although this term may be ambiguous and place an excessive limit to the extent to which the chronicle was rewritten in King Sancho’s court, what is certain is that there are no significant modifications in the way in which the Poema was used.22 It is possible, nevertheless, that there are some minor glosses specific to this version. For instance, in the narration of the conquest of Alcocer, after the Cid entrusts his standard to Pero Vermúdez, the inference that the hero advises and encourages his men may be attributed to the Versión amplificada (PCG, p. 528a29-34; cf. Versión crítica, p. 473).23 Minor additions such as this one, which underscore the hero’s role as a military leader, seem to characterize this version. The rest of the material from the PMC – from v. 1098 onward – is incorporated later on interwoven into the storyline or after the narration of the siege and conquest of Valencia, which is based on historical sources. The Versión crítica takes up the PMC again in the 28th year of Alfonso VI’s reign, and the story continues to unfold into the 33rd year of this monarch’s rule (pp. 525-48). In the other chronicles, this entire section corresponds to the “Interpolación cidiana”. This text, as I have indicated, presents a different relationship with the archetype of the Estoria de España as found in earlier sections of the Versión amplificada. Moreover, it shows such differences from the Versión crítica that do not allow us to conceive that it derives from the same compilation. For that reason, to study how the Poema was used in Alfonso X’s court, the most reliable witness is the one preserved in the Versión crítica. Considering the lacuna in the text of the Versión amplificada, which was later filled with the “Interpolación cidiana”, one might wonder if this gap already existed in the primitive Alfonsine compilation elaborated between 1270 and 1274, or if it 21 22 23 Catalán, De Alfonso X al Conde de Barcelos, pp.124-48; Bautista, La “Estoria de España” en época de Sancho IV, pp. 37-38. However, these modifications exist in other parts of the text, especially those providing details about Rodrigo that do not derive from poetic sources. For instance, due to a misinterpretation of the Historia Roderici (§4), when the Alfonsine chroniclers were describing the battle in Graus, they changed what was merely a reference to Zaragoza into its subjugation (Versión crítica, p. 428). The author of the Versión amplificada, believing the narration of this event was too brief, fabricated an extensive chapter (PCG, chapter 815) in which he extensively elaborated upon it. The gloss explaining why the Cid does not bring the Moors with him after abandoning Castejón also could be unique to the Versión amplificada (PCG, p. 525b48-526a4), although it is worth considering that its absence in the Versión crítica may be due to the drastic way this chronicle abbreviates the episode (pp. 470-71). Poema de mio Cid in 13th- and 14th-Century Romance Historiography 423 is unique to this amplified redaction. The first hypothesis would require us to accept that the author of the Versión crítica had to resume working on this section of the compilation from the beginning and completed what had been left unfinished years earlier.24 The second hypothesis would imply that while the Estoria de España was being reelaborated in Sancho IV’s court, the reproduction of this fragment was suspended for some reason, and when it was later resumed it acquired such a unique character. Although it is an open question, this second option is more plausible in my view, for it allows us to assume that the author of the Versión crítica could well have used the original compilation of the Estoria de España produced between 1270 and 1274.25 In this regard, the sources employed for this section of the Versión crítica are the same as those used for the first part of the Cid’s biography, and the text has the same features that characterize the Alfonsine compilation (annalistic structure, synchronization with the Papacy and the Holy Roman Empire, and the integration of supplementary sources).26 Thus, when incorporating the rest of the PMC, the chroniclers relied upon a text similar to the extant one through a manuscript closely connected to the Vivar codex, just as they did in the first part.27 Besides, the propensities already noted in the way in which the Poema was used in the Versión crítica also govern its utilization after the siege of Valencia: details are minimized, the narration focuses on Rodrigo’s character, and there is a marked abbreviation of the story. It could be argued that in this section, attention is primarily drawn to the representation of the Cid and Alfonso VI – both of whom are portrayed as irreproachable figures – as well as to the relationship between king and vassal, seen here as an exemplary model.28 Some episodes, such as the “Afrenta de Corpes” or the final judicial duels between the Cid’s champions and the Infantes of Carrión, have been 24 25 26 27 28 This is how Catalán understands it in “El Mio Cid de Alfonso X”, pp. 199 and 204, and even more specifically in “Rodericus” romanzado, p. 139. See Fernández-Ordóñez’s brilliant reasoning in “Versión crítica” de la “Estoria de España”, pp. 245-55. Catalán, “El Mio Cid de Alfonso X”, pp. 199-203. It is obvious that the manuscript used in the Alfonsine workshop did not have the same material lacunae as the Vivar codex – which is the result of the loss of two folios (between 47-48 and 69-70) – as some scholars have suggested. Although the summary of the events included in the Versión crítica does not allow us to recover the details preserved in both folios, it sheds light on its basic narrative elements. See Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid, pp. 532-33, who accurately recognizes the existence of both lacunae; and his notes to vv. 2337 and 3507. See also Fernández-Ordóñez, “El Mio Cid a través de las crónicas medievales”, pp. 169-71, and note 49 of this chapter. Rochwert-Zuili, “Du Poème à l’Histoire”, pp. 188-93. 424 Bautista notably abbreviated. The abbreviation of the “Afrenta de Corpes”, which has been reduced to its most basic elements, could have been caused by the chroniclers, who did not want to dedicate much space to the Infantes’ reprehensible conduct. It should also be noted that this treatment is consistent with the scarce importance attributed to feminine characters in the Versión crítica.29 Regarding the judicial duels, it is possible that they were abbreviated because the Cid does not participate in them. Both examples conspicuously manifest how the author of the Versión crítica adapted his sources conferring to the text a paradoxical aspect, since it is the only representative of the Alfonsine historiographical rendering of the Poema, but its innovative character undoubtedly distances it from what the original compilation of the Estoria de España must have been. To conclude, we can say that the Alfonsine chroniclers’ use of the PMC was marked, on the linguistic level, by its adaptation to the canons of historiographic discourse, whereas on the level of the content, it was defined by a particular remodeling of the text that led to paying more attention to Rodrigo’s military deeds as well as to his relationship with King Alfonso. Regarding this last point, one can observe a certain idealization of their feudal ties, with the Cid always respecting his lord’s authority, as to convert the bond between Rodrigo Díaz and Alfonso VI into a paradigmatic harmony between the monarchy and the knightly estate. With respect to the Versión crítica, the author stripped the PMC’s narration of many of its details, thus providing a succinct and general summary. There is also in this text an intentional desire to focus on the Cid while relegating to a secondary role other characters who, often times, are not even given a name. Lastly, some episodes were modified in order to eliminate any details that did not contribute to creating an ideal image of the Cid, who is portrayed in this text as a paragon of military and knightly virtues, and as an exemplary vassal. 4 Cardeña and the “Interpolación cidiana” Whereas the Versión crítica offers a unified account, in the rest of the chronicles – as I mentioned earlier – there is an interruption in the text that can be precisely identified in the narration of Rodrigo’s subjugation of Denia and Tortosa, and the subsequent siege of Aledo. From this point until the end of the Cid’s presence in the historical account, one finds a peculiar text known as the “Interpolación cidiana”. Its relationship with the archetype of the Estoria de 29 Powell, Epic and Chronicle, p. 97-98. Poema de mio Cid in 13th- and 14th-Century Romance Historiography 425 España is different from the one reproduced before and after in the Versión amplificada (and other texts of the same family). It draws on other sources that are quite distinct, and shows signs of a more active rewriting process. Among the new episodes it incorporates, the ones that stand out are related to the narration of the PMC (in particular, the “Afrenta de Corpes” and the “Cortes de Toledo”), while others not connected to the poem concern the final moments of the Cid’s life, his death, and the transferral of his body to the Monastery of Cardeña, the site where Rodrigo was buried and, according to some scholars, where these episodes originated. Although the Versión crítica can be a useful point of comparison, the considerable differences between the texts, as well as the absence of the new literary source used by the author of the “Interpolación” – whose text we do not directly know – make it difficult to interpret the differences. The limits of the “Interpolación” can be established accurately thanks to codex E2, where this section corresponds to a material addition dating to the years between the end of the 13th century and the beginning of the 14th century. According to Menéndez Pidal’s edition, which is based on this manuscript, it spans from chapters 896 to 962 (PCG, pp. 565a-643b).30 Though we cannot be sure when this section was copied, there are other testimonies of the text suggesting that it was most likely redacted at the end of the 13th century. We rely on manuscript F, which transmits a text very similar to the one in manuscript E2, as well as two chronicles composed between the end of the 13th century and the beginning of the 14th century, the Crónica manuelina and the Crónica de Castilla, both of which were based on the text of the “Interpolación”. Since many additions and innovations were incorporated into these last two works, I will base my analysis exclusively on the edition of E2 prepared by Menéndez Pidal.31 We do not know what caused the interruption in the text common to both the Versión amplificada and the works related to it. Considering the innovations that are present in the “Interpolación”, one could safely argue that the lacuna resulted from a desire to incorporate new contents and expand the entire section. Although we cannot rule out such a possibility, the abrupt 30 31 See Catalán’s study, pp. 64-69. Manuscripts E2 and F both contain a lacuna in the first chapter (PCG, chapter 896) that is accurately transmitted by the Crónica manuelina and the Crónica de Castilla. This matter was correctly observed by Catalán, De Alfonso X al Conde de Barcelos, pp. 66-67, and explained by Hijano Villegas, “La materia cidiana en las crónicas generales”, who offers a synoptic edition of this chapter based on the principal texts (pp. 163-68). Menéndez Pidal also included corrections and variants deriving from manuscript F, as well as from two testimonies of the Crónica ocampiana, which are based on a text similar to E2 and F in this section. 426 Bautista change in the relationship between the “Interpolación” and the archetype of the Estoria de España also suggests that the draft on which the Versión amplificada was based presented a material problem, perhaps due to a lost quire, which forced the chroniclers to resume working on the compilation of these episodes nearly from the beginning, taking this opportunity to undertake an intense rewriting of this section while taking advantage of the new sources. Together with the causes that prompted the interruption in these texts, we still have many unanswered questions about the “Interpolación”. For example, we do not know where or when it was written. Considering the relationship between the final episodes and the Monastery of Cardeña, as well as some elements’ connection of this last section with other parts of the “Interpolación”, some scholars have suggested that the entire fragment was possibly redacted in Cardeña, perhaps as early as during Alfonso X’s reign.32 Others, however, are inclined to situate its composition in a historiographic workshop that used and adapted a source from Cardeña, thus dating it to the end of the 13th century.33 In my view, there are many arguments supporting this second hypothesis, which must be explained in greater detail. Although there is a change in the relationship between the “Interpolación” and the archetype of the Estoria de España, this does not necessarily mean that the interpolation is totally unrelated to the texts produced by the Alfonsine chroniclers. In fact, the interpolation uses one of the sources employed in Alfonso X’s workshop, and it was done through a similar adaptation, as a comparison with the Versión crítica shows. More specifically, we are referring to the Arabic history that recounts the conquest of Valencia, which derives with absolute certainty from the same translation in spite of the different usage that was made of it in the Versión crítica, where it was extracted and summarized, and in the “Interpolación”, where it was more faithfully reproduced, though possibly undergoing some 32 33 This explanation was first offered by Entwistle, “La estoria del noble varón el Çid”, which was later accepted by, among others, Russell, “San Pedro de Cardeña y la historia heroica del Cid”, and Catalán, La épica española, pp. 256-59, who also included a helpful bibliography. Montaner Frutos and Boix Jovaní, Guerra en Sarq Al’andalus, pp. 109-14; Lacomba, Au-delà du “Cantar de mio Cid”, pp. 85-89; Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid, pp. 530-31; and especially Hijano Villegas, “La materia cidiana en las crónicas generales”, pp. 154-57. Previously, Rochwert-Zuili, “Du Poème à l’Histoire”, pp. 278-99, put forward the idea that it was a historiographical construct and suggested that it originated in the same environment as the Crónica de Castilla. Nevertheless, as shown by Catalán, La épica española, pp. 277, n. 19, and 283, the texts of mss. E2 and F are undoubtedly earlier than that of the Crónica de Castilla. This opinion is shared by Hijano Villegas, “La Crónica de Castilla”. Poema de mio Cid in 13th- and 14th-Century Romance Historiography 427 amplifications.34 Even though it is possible that the translation of this Arabic source made its way to Cardeña where it may have been used to prepare what was to become the “Interpolación”, it seems more likely that it was utilized and reelaborated in a historiographical workshop affiliated with Alfonso X’s court, where the materials prepared by his chroniclers should have been kept. An analysis of how the PMC was used also supports this hypothesis. Although the “Interpolación” includes episodes that are far removed from the poetic text, Catalán clairvoyantly observed that a good part of the account is based on a poem similar to the extant one, and preserved in a manuscript closely related to the Vivar codex.35 In effect, the entire second part of the Poema – which centers on the defense of Valencia and the marriage of the Cid’s daughters to the Infantes of Carrión, as well as the embassy from Navarre and Aragon and the judicial duels at the end of the poem – derives in the “Interpolación” from a poetic text identical to the one that has reached us. In fact, it can even be argued that the “Interpolación” did not directly use the Poema, but rather a prosification on which the Versión crítica also depends, that was prepared, therefore, in the Alfonsine workshop. The relationship between the Versión crítica and the “Interpolación” is obscured by the different ways in which both texts treat the material deriving from the Poema. As we have seen, the Versión crítica abbreviates the content – and at times radically – whereas the “Interpolación” tends to expand it with greater intensity than the Versión amplificada by rationalizing actions, incorporating glosses, and even deducing some scenes. In the case of the “Interpolación”, a narration unlike the one preserved in the extant poem is added to the material about the “Afrenta de Corpes” and the “Cortes de Toledo”. However, in the rest of the narration, the very different treatment has not eliminated some minor innovations to the Poema that are common to both the “Interpolación” and the Versión crítica.36 34 35 36 Catalán, “El Mio Cid de Alfonso X”, p. 224, n. 129, and “Rodericus” romanzado, pp. 93-94 and 138-39; Hijano Villegas, “La materia cidiana en las crónicas generales”, p. 146 and n. 13. I have compared the texts again and concluded that they are undoubtedly based on the same translation. See also Montaner Frutos and Boix Jovaní, Guerra en Sarq Al’andalus, pp. 113-14. Catalán, La épica española, pp. 260-71; see also Rochwert-Zuili, “Du Poème à l’Histoire”, pp. 277-78, who explains this matter less clearly. In addition to the different treatment, it also must be remembered that these texts were genealogically related at an earlier moment in time. They were not derived from the Alfonsine compilation, but rather from the prosification carried out in the royal workshop; therefore, in the case of the Versión crítica, the narration likely underwent modifications while it was being integrated along with other sources, coupled with the changes particular to this version. 428 Bautista Let’s examine some examples. After the conquest of Valencia, the Cid entrusts Álvar Fáñez with another embassy to Alfonso VI in order to present the king with more gifts and beg him to allow the Cid’s wife and daughters to reunite with the hero (vv. 1267-81). Both the Versión crítica and the “Interpolación” incorporate the direct discourse rather faithfully, and by doing so, some commonalities are detected. In both texts, the Cid refers to Alfonso as “mi señor” instead of “mi señor natural” (v. 1272), and there is also a gloss describing the horses sent to the king as “ensellados e enfrenados” (Versión crítica, p. 530; PCG, p. 583a38-42). At their meeting, Álvar Fáñez says that the Cid has sent him to kiss King Alfonso’s hands and feet “commo a tan buen señor” (v. 1323), to which both prose texts add “señor natural” (Versión crítica, p. 531; PCG, p. 593b35). In the description of the booty the Cid won upon vanquishing the king of Morocco, among the details provided in the poem, both prose texts underscore the enemies’ tents: “e las mas rricas tiendas que omne nunca vio” (Versión crítica, p. 534; cf. v. 1782); “fue fallada vna tienda del rey de Marruecos, la mayor e la mas noble que nunca omne vio” (PCG, p. 598a37-39; cf. v. 1785). The king of Morocco’s tent is included among the gifts the Cid sends to Alfonso, whereas in the Poema, the present is limited to two hundred horses (vv. 1813 and 1854): “e la tyenda que fuera del rrey Yuçef” (Versión crítica, p. 534); “et la noble tienda que fue de Iunes rey de Marruecos” (PCG, p. 598b15-16).37 In the description of the meeting between the Cid and Alfonso further ahead, both texts incorporate the verse “los inojos e las manos en tierra los fincó” (v. 2021), adding to it “por le besar los pies” (Versión crítica, p. 535; PCG, p. 600b25). Although some of these cases could be coincidental, their sheer number and the significance of some of them – like the one about the king of Morocco’s tent – suggest that the “Interpolación” relied upon the same prosification of the Poema produced in the Alfonsine workshop which is ultimately at the origin of the Versión crítica.38 37 38 It is true that in vv. 1785-90 of the Poema the Cid declares his intention to send the tent to King Alfonso: “La tienda del rey de Marruecos, que de las otras es cabo, / dos tendales la sufren, con oro son labrados; / mandó myo Cid Ruy Díaz, que fita soviesse la tienda / e non la tolliesse dent cristiano: / – Tal tienda commo esta, que de Marruecos es passada, / enbiarla quiero a Alfonso el castellano”. However, the tent is not mentioned when the Cid entrusts Álvar Fáñez with the embassy to Alfonso or when the hero’s friend meets with the king. In my view, this is clearly an innovation common to both the Versión crítica and the “Interpolación”, possibly to make the episode more coherent. For a different opinion, see Catalán, La épica española, p. 263. Referring to the Versión crítica and the “Interpolación”, Catalán also points out that it would be impossible to reconstruct “un hipotético texto en prosa del que pudieran depender” (La épica española, p. 267), although the same could also be said of the translation of the Arabic history about Poema de mio Cid in 13th- and 14th-Century Romance Historiography 429 In spite of this, it is clear to me that the author of the “Interpolación” did not use an Alfonsine compilation in which these materials had already been combined. This is proven by its near complete lack of information originating from the Historia Roderici whose text, instead, was utilized in the Versión crítica.39 The same is true if we consider that in this work the information about the conquest of Murviedro and Valencia deriving from the Arabic history and the Poema are found intertwined, whereas in the “Interpolación” these events exclusively follow the Arabic history (Versión crítica, p. 525-29; PCG, caps. 90720). Therefore, even though the author of the “Interpolación” may have had at his disposal some Alfonsine materials – that is to say, the translation of the Arabic history about the conquest of Valencia and the prosification of the Poema – he did not rely on a compilation of them, which may have been accessible to the author of the Versión crítica. This would explain, for example, the absence of chronologies in the “Interpolación” as well as the lack of references to the Papacy or the Holy Roman Empire, typical features of the Estoria de España also found in the Versión crítica. Perhaps the need to create, from the beginning, a historical account for this section also brought about the defining traits of the “Interpolación”: a broader and more faithful reproduction of its sources, particularly of the Arabic history; less integration of materials that were juxtaposed rather than combined; and a more extensive opening to this section, that was rewritten with greater freedom and to which legendary episodes unknown to the author of the Versión crítica were added. 39 the conquest of Valencia, which does not preclude us from acknowledging that both the Versión crítica and the “Interpolación” relied upon the same translation of it. The passages in the Versión crítica originating from the Latin history are not included in the “Interpolación”, although it is possible that it occasionally relied on the Historia Roderici; see the case pointed out by Lacomba, Au-delà du “Cantar de mio Cid”, p. 83. We could argue that the detail about where the confrontation between the king of Seville and the Cid takes place – “cerca de la huerta que dizen de Villa Nueua” (PCG, p. 592b14-15) – is borrowed from the Historia Roderici (§55); however, considering the number of times this geographical place is mentioned before and after this point in the text, this is not the only possibility (see note 61). Montaner Frutos and Boix Jovaní suggest in Guerra en Sarq Al’andalus, p. 220, that possibly two borradores were simultaneously created: one that combined the Poema and the Historia Roderici with information from the Arabic source used in the Versión crítica, and another that integrated the Poema with the Arabic source used in the “Interpolación”. Nevertheless, this hypothesis seems less plausible, among other reasons, because of the lack of evidence proving that the Alfonsine workshop prepared alternative drafts for the same section, not even for those sections in which there are important variations in the extant texts. For this matter, see Bautista, “Para la tradición textual de la Estoria de España”. 430 Bautista The use of Alfonsine materials supports the hypothesis that the “Interpolación” was elaborated in a historiographical workshop affiliated with the royal court. This is not to say that a work produced in Cardeña about the final moments of the Cid’s life, which has come to be known as the *Estoria del Cid or *Leyenda de Cardeña, did not exist.40 The presence of a number of original episodes that are obviously connected to the Monastery of Cardeña and are unknown to the Versión crítica, not only point to Burgos’ monastery as the place of composition of such a story, but also to the fact that it was known and utilized by the interpolation’s author. Similar to other sources, the *Leyenda de Cardeña would have been extensively rewritten in the course of adaptation to the proper elements of historiographical discourse. This explains, in my view, the interrelationship that exists between some characters from the Arabic history about the conquest of Valencia and others found in episodes that seemingly derive from the monastic text. If we also keep in mind that the author of the “Interpolación” seems to be more innovative than what can generally be perceived in the previous section of the story related to the Versión amplificada that I analyzed before, then it becomes clear why it is so difficult to accurately distinguish – beyond basic or general aspects – the characteristics of the source elaborated in Cardeña from those of the “Interpolación”.41 From this perspective, it is possible to date the composition of this text with relative certainty. As I have pointed out, the “Interpolación” was also included in the textual model used by the Crónica manuelina and the Crónica de Castilla, where it underwent new additions that are addressed in the next section. Since these works date either to the end of the 13th century or the beginning of the 14th century, it is obvious that the “Interpolación” – in its more primitive stage as transmitted in manuscripts E2 and F – had to exist earlier, probably during the reign of Sancho IV. Moreover, keeping in mind the evident complementary relationship between the “Interpolación” and the material lacuna in the royal codex E2, everything seems to indicate that this section is related to problems that arose during the composition of the Versión amplificada. The “Interpolación”, which was still unavailable when the royal manuscript was produced in 1289, was likely finished soon after, perhaps around 1290, although it was materially integrated into E2 sometime later, between the end of the 13th cen- 40 41 Entwistle, Russell, and Catalán prefered to call it Estoria del Cid. On the other hand, the title Leyenda de Cardeña was used by Menéndez Pidal in his appendix of the sources used for the PCG, as well as by Montaner, Hijano, and others. Throughout this study, I will also use this title. Pattison, From Legend to Chronicle, p. 139. Poema de mio Cid in 13th- and 14th-Century Romance Historiography 431 tury and the beginning of the 14th century.42 In any event, the difference in date of composition and relationship to the archetype of the Estoria de España implies that the “Interpolación”, despite its sharing many of the same characteristics of the Versión amplificada both before and after the textual lacuna – such as the tendency to expand the narration and the inclusion of glosses and commentaries – had already undergone a certain separation from the Versión amplificada, having emphasized the innovative nature of the rewriting of Alfonsine materials.43 Leaving aside for the moment an analysis of the episodes related to the *Leyenda de Cardeña, we shall first look at how this characteristic is manifested in the material originating from the Poema. If we use Menéndez Pidal’s edition – which is based on codex E2 – as a point of reference, the narration related to the Poema in the “Interpolación” extends from chapter 922, with the battle between the Cid and the king of Seville (vv. 1221 and following), to the beginning of chapter 946, in which the news about the judicial duels reaches Valencia (v. 3716).44 As I have already pointed out, in a good part of this section – that is, the entire “Cantar de las Bodas” and the final episode of the judicial combats – the “Interpolación” is based on a poem similar to the extant one but most likely on a prosification that had been carried out in the Alfonsine workshop. However, all of this material is significantly different from what we find in the Versión crítica. Not only is the narration abbreviated in this latter text, but diverse innovations also have been incorporated into the “Interpolación” through which the redaction is amplified: scenes are deduced, plot development is rationalized, and the content is accompanied by glosses.45 After battling the king of Seville, the Cid sends gift-bearing envoys to Alfonso VI, who beseech the monarch to allow Rodrigo’s family to join him in Valencia. According to the interpolation, the Cid entrusts the mission to Álvar Fáñez and Martín Antolínez, providing them with money for both his wife and the abbot 42 43 44 45 Bautista, La “Estoria de España” en época de Sancho IV, pp. 48-56. This is the same date proposed by Hijano Villegas, “La materia cidiana en las crónicas generales”, pp. 154-57. If we had to situate the “Interpolación” within the scope of a particular project or historiographical text, I would be inclined to place it within the scope of the Versión amplificada where the lacuna completed with this fragment appears. However, the differences detected in the textual models used throughout, the different time of composition, as well as the intensification of the rewriting, justify the distinction of this part of the text and its particular treatment. It is also possible that the chapters about the second marriage of the Cid’s daughters and their later departure from Valencia (PCG, 949-50) are an amplification of the Poema (vv. 3717-23), since this is a rather clichéd narrative. Catalán, La épica española, pp. 260-71. 432 Bautista of Cardeña, as well as to repay the Jewish moneylenders (PCG, pp. 592-94), thus closing a sequence that had remained unresolved from the onset of the Cid’s banishment.46 Similarly, a brief story is sometimes elaborated, as in the case of Álvar Salvadórez, a character only mentioned in the Poema when he is imprisoned (v. 1681). The author of the “Interpolación” fabricates several details about him and even recounts Salvadórez’s liberation after the Cid defeats the king of Morocco (PCG, p. 598a39-43). In addition to the deduction of these types of episodes, the Poema’s narrative is amplified by the inclusion of passages about war preparations or ceremonial acts like welcoming the Infantes of Carrión to Valencia (PCG, pp. 601b-02a). By virtue of these interventions, the Cid’s character and his actions are magnified, thus resulting in a certain ritualization of the account replete with formulas about the excellence of everything related to the hero (see, for example, PCG, p. 629b). Along with this amplified and glossed version of a poem similar to the extant one, there are other episodes in the “Interpolación” so unique and so far removed from the Poema that, in essence, it seems impossible to attribute them to the author’s inventiveness. The use of a source other than the Poema is, in my view, the most likely explanation for the story narrated in the “Interpolación” from the “Afrenta de Corpes” to the “Cortes de Toledo” (PCG, chapters 932-43).47 Although we cannot entirely dismiss the possibility that the extant poem was used to compose this section, almost everything narrated in it is profoundly different from the Poema.48 It is also possible, I should add, that this source was partially used in the preceding sections to narrate the episode of the lion and the battle with Bucar (PCG, chapters 929-31), although its difference from the Poema is not so conspicuous.49 46 47 48 49 For Montaner’s commentary on the corresponding passage in the Poema, see Cantar de mio Cid, pp. 858-60. For a different perspective, see Rochwert-Zuili, “Du Poème à l’Histoire”, pp. 279 and 284; see also Montaner’s discussion, Cantar de mio Cid, p. 529, with bibliography. Beyond some general aspects – for example, the division of the Cid’s lawsuit presented against the Infantes of Carrión at the Cortes of Toledo into three parts – it does not seem possible to establish clear connections between the chapters narrating the “Afrenta de Corpes” and the “Cortes de Toledo” in the “Interpolación” and the Poema. Passages completely unrelated to the Poema include the Infantes’ conversation after the episode of the lion and the discussion with their uncle, Suero González (PCG, pp. 603b04a); the presence of Ordoño at the battle against Bucar and some of his military deeds (PCG, p. 606a); and finally, the conclusion of the battle, in which Bucar does not die. The first two cases are connected to the narration of the “Afrenta de Corpes” and the “Cortes de Toledo”. I will speak more about the third example in the pages ahead. In these sections the author of the “Interpolación” added details from another source to an account based Poema de mio Cid in 13th- and 14th-Century Romance Historiography 433 The plot’s organization, the characters that intervene, the presence of new dialogues, and the creation of new scenes in the sequence comprising everything from the “Afrenta de Corpes” to the “Cortes de Toledo” separate the “Interpolación” from the Poema. All of these variations radically alter the story, at times giving rise not to a ritualized narration, but to turbulent situations that cannot be explained as part of the adaptation of the material to the historiographical discourse. Let’s look at an example. The brief mention of the bench on which the Cid sits during the Cortes in Toledo (vv. 3115 and 3121) becomes an extensive episode in the “Interpolación”; it includes new characters and takes on a very distinct orientation from how it is narrated in the poetic text. While in the Poema it is simply a gift to the king, who then offers it to the hero during the trial at the Cortes in Toledo, it is now described as a luxurious bench “muy sotil de lauor […] cubierto con muy ricos pannos de seda labrados de oro” (PCG, p. 616a23-28). The hero orders Fernán Alfonso, a character who is never mentioned in the Poema, to place the bench in the palace and keep watch over it. One day, when the king, escorted by a few counts and ricos hombres, passes by it, Count García Ordóñez utters sarcastic and insulting remarks, asking the king to which bride that bed belonged and requesting that either he take it for himself or have it removed. Fernán Alfonso aggressively responds to García Ordóñez’s impertinent remarks, and when the count attempts to attack the young man, the monarch prevents a brawl by recounting how the Cid won that bench. This entire episode – replete with aggressive attitudes and sarcasm – supports the notion of a literary recreation of the Poema that, in my view, cannot be attributed to the compiler responsible for the “Interpolación cidiana”.50 The bench is mentioned again during the debates in the “Cortes de Toledo” when Count García Ordóñez addresses the Infantes of Carrión and says, “dexar 50 on the Poema. The rest is closely related to the extant poem and, at times, is very close to the Versión crítica (for example, compare the Versión crítica, p. 539, with the PCG, p. 606a26-30). This final observation affects the discussion about the contents of the two lacunae detected in the Vivar codex resulting from two lost folios (see note 27). In my view, the narration preserved in the “Interpolación” (PCG, pp. 604b-05a and 624a) derives from a poetic text, similar to the extant one, prosified in the Alfonsine workshop, where it was glossed and modified. For that reason, it is definitive proof that the lacunae of the Vivar codex were not present in the manuscript used in the Alfonsine workshop. This must be taken into account when discussing the contents of the lacunae, and yet it should be treated with caution considering the liberties taken by the author of the “Interpolación” and his use of another literary source dealing with the material included in the final part of the Poema. For a different opinion, see Rochwert-Zuili, “Du Poème à l’Histoire”, pp. 297-99. 434 Bautista estar el Cid asentado en su escanno como nouio” (PCG, p. 621b2-3). His words incite Pero Vermúdez to react violently, and spurred on by the Cid, he rushes over to Count García Ordóñez and punches him: “çerro el punno et diol vna tal ferida que dio con el en tierra” (PCG, p. 621b36-38). With this, the trial in the Cortes is about to be transformed into a spontaneous brawl that the king is forced to halt with “muy grandes vozes”. This entire scene is unlike the careful representation of the Cortes described by the author of the Poema, nor does it seem possible to explain it as the deduction of a compiler trying to integrate the material within a historiographical discourse. There are other additions that are equally incompatible with the type of work that we can attribute to the compiler of the “Interpolación cidiana”. The importance given to Ordoño, one of the Cid’s knights, is another example. Although he is never mentioned in the PMC, in the “Interpolación” he carries out some feats that in the Poema are accomplished by Pero Vermúdez. He is also found at the center of new episodes, such as the one narrating his investiture as a knight (at the beginning of chapter 943). Similarly, there is a transformation of many details related to the “Afrenta de Corpes”: the particulars about how the Cid’s daughters are discovered after being beaten, their remaining in the woods attended by Ordoño for seven days, their subsequent stay at a peasant’s house, and all the embassies related to these events, with itineraries and other details totally distinct from what is narrated in the Poema.51 As Catalán accurately pointed out, the utilization of two sources narrating in different ways the content of the last part of the PMC is somehow related to the presence of various contradictions in the “Interpolación”.52 During the “Cortes de Toledo”, the rieptos pit characters against one another in a way that is totally distinct from the manner in which it is narrated in the Poema, whereas in the judicial duels, the characters’ actions are in total agreement with the ones described in the poem. In the “Cortes de Toledo”, the Cid gives Álvar Fáñez the sword Colada, but later in the episode of the judicial duels it appears in the hands of Martín Antolínez, just like in the Poema. At different times in the “Interpolación”, specifically in the episodes of the “Afrenta de Corpes” and the “Cortes de Toledo”, Álvar Fáñez is referred to as the Cid’s cousin, but in other occasions, when it follows the Poema (vv. 2858, 3438, and 3448), its details are reproduced and the author refers to Álvar Fáñez as the cousin of the Cid’s 51 52 For a description of how the narration of this episode in the “Interpolación” differs from the one in the Poema, see Cirot, “L’épisode des infants de Carrion”; and Pattison, “The ‘Afrenta de Corpes’”. Catalán, La épica española, pp. 273-75. Poema de mio Cid in 13th- and 14th-Century Romance Historiography 435 daughters.53 In my view, it is clear that the author of the “Interpolación”, whose task was to balance and unify these particulars, did not create such inconsistencies. Such an alternative source to the Poema would have surely included an account quite similar to the “Afrenta de Corpes” and the “Cortes de Toledo” in the “Interpolación”; perhaps it may also have recounted the episode of the lion and the battle with Bucar, although for this part of the story it would have only partially used it (see note 49). It is also possible that this other source would have included the judicial duels, although the author of the “Interpolación” exclusively relied upon the extant poetic text in this section. What kind of work could this other source have been? Everything suggests that it was a literary reworking of the Poema – surely based on the extant text – which treated the material with some degree of sensationalism by developing and exploiting the existing antagonism between the Cid and the Infantes of Carrión’s camp. Through the “Interpolación”, one can perceive that the characterization of the Infantes in such a text must have been even more negative than their portrayal in the Poema, and the clash between the two factions must have been carried out in a more insulting and chaotic way. At the same time, this other text would allow for the inclusion of many new characters that were possibly linked to ancestral interests or lineage favoritism.54 In this sense, it is striking that the Cid is, at times, surrounded by diverse and turbulent characters, as in the case of the knights who accompany him to the Cortes in Toledo who are remembered in a long list (PCG, chapter 939). Although this unknown source could have been the reworking of an epic poem circumscribed to the final part of the PMC, it could be argued that it was a different kind of reelaboration. If we bear in mind that many chapters of the “Interpolación” are dedicated to the final moments of the Cid’s life and that they ultimately have their origins in a *Leyenda de Cardeña, it is possible that the episodes of the “Afrenta de Corpes” and the “Cortes de Toledo” – as well as other details that contrast with those found in the Poema – could have formed part of the same monastic narration. Let’s first examine the basic episodes that most likely could be connected to such a monastic source. After the Cid has taken vengeance on the Infantes of 53 54 Álvar Fáñez is referred to as the Cid’s cousin also in the Mocedades de Rodrigo; see Deyermond’s edition, Epic poetry and the Clergy, p. 235 (vv. 258-59). See, for example, what is said about the six judges presiding over the Cortes (PCG, p. 617b): three of them are the heads of noble families, among them, the Villalobos, the Osorios, the Girones, and the Laras. It is difficult to know if their inclusion responds to real ancestral interests or to a desire to symbolically include a considerable portion of the Castilian nobility and knightly estate in the Cidian universe. See Rochwert-Zuili’s commentary, “Du Poème à l’Histoire”, pp. 310-15, and “El Cantar de Mio Cid y la Crónica de Castilla”. 436 Bautista Carrión and is back in Valencia, a messenger arrives from the Soldán de Persia, who has heard all about Rodrigo’s exploits. Since the objective is to establish an alliance with the Cid, the Soldán sends Rodrigo many gifts, among them, a chessboard “que aun oy en dia es en el monesterio de Sant Pedro de Cardenna” (PCG, p. 628a24-25). A Moor at the service of the Cid decides to convert to Christianity and takes the name Gil Díaz (PCG, chapter 951). When news arrives that Bucar has returned to attack Valencia, Saint Peter appears to the hero and announces his upcoming death; he tells Rodrigo that, after his death, he will ride his horse and together with his knights he will vanquish his enemy (PCG, chapter 952).55 The Cid makes the last confession; prepares everything so that once he has died, his body can be mounted on his horse; organizes the evacuation of Valencia; and dictates a will (PCG, chapters 953-54). After the Cid dies, Bucar reaches the city’s doors and begins the assault; however, the Moor is defeated by the Cid’s retinue, led by the now-dead Rodrigo Díaz, whose body is propped on his horse with the sword Tizón in hand (PCG, chapter 956). This enables the Christians to abandon the city without danger, and it is only later when Bucar and his men discover that Valencia is deserted that they enter the city (PCG, chapter 957). On the road to Cardeña, to where his remains are being transported, Rodrigo’s daughters and their husbands pay respect to his body (PCG, chapter 958), and once in the monastery, Alfonso VI visits his tomb (PCG, chapter 959). When Babieca dies, Gil Díaz has the horse buried at the entrance to the monastery, and four years later, when Jimena passes away, she too is entombed in Cardeña (PCG, chapter 960). The annual commemorations in honor of the Cid are then described, and how in one of them, owing to the fact that the abbot was forced to preach outside of the monastery due to the large number of people congregated, a lone Jew entered the church to contemplate the Cid, whose embalmed body was in the same state as when it left Valencia. When the Jew attempted to pull the Cid’s beard, Rodrigo’s hand took hold of his sword and slightly unsheathed it. The Jew, frightened, converted to 55 In this chapter, manuscripts E2 and F lack the dialogue between the Cid and Saint Peter; however, Menéndez Pidal borrowed it from two testimonies of the Crónica ocampiana (it is also included in the Crónica manuelina and the Crónica de Castilla) and incorporated the passage into his critical text (PCG, p. 633b20-34a17). This could be either an error or a deliberate suppression originating from the common source of E2 and F, especially if we consider that the apparition of Saint Peter appears in the title of the chapter and is mentioned later in the narration by the Cid himself (PCG, p. 634a46-b4). However, in order to more accurately assess this point, it would be necessary to have a better understanding of the models used by the Crónica ocampiana. See Hijano Villegas, “La materia cidiana en las crónicas generales”, pp. 152-53. Poema de mio Cid in 13th- and 14th-Century Romance Historiography 437 Christianity, took the name Diego Gil, and remained affiliated with the monastery until he died shortly after Gil Díaz (PCG, chapters 961-62).56 In this account – whose source is still unknown to us – the Cidian cult at the Monastery of Cardeña plays a central role, thus making it logical to situate its composition there. Also, the Cid’s posthumous victory over Bucar must have originated in Cardeña, since this is the major exploit recorded in an epitaph written in Romance, likely dating to the 14th century, preserved at the religious house.57 As I have mentioned before, without the text of the *Leyenda de Cardeña it is difficult to assess the extent to which the author of the “Interpolación” modified this text upon integrating it into his work. One of the more remarkable traits of the “Interpolación” is its tendency to justify the most implausible actions in rational or historical terms. Taking this into consideration, its author may be responsible for explaining how the Cid’s body was preserved for many years by virtue of the balsams and ointments he had received among the gifts sent by the Soldán de Persia, or the elaborate invention of props and supports that kept Rodrigo’s body mounted on his horse in order to participate in the battle against Bucar after his death. In effect, all these precise details seem more characteristic of a historiographical work than a monastic legend, and they may be interpreted as an effort to adapt this fantastic account into a historical narrative.58 To the author of the “Interpolación” one must attribute the establishment of several connections linking this final section to characters mentioned earlier in the text. Thus, to him belongs the invention of an apocryphal source, which is supposedly at the base of these final episodes, attributing its authorship to “Abenalfarax”, who had been mentioned earlier as the author of an Arab history about the conquest of Valencia.59 This is clearly an expedient to legitimize 56 57 58 59 About this episodes, in addition to the studies cited in note 32, see Henriet, “¿Santo u hombre ilustre?”, who provides a complete bibliography. For this brief text, see Montaner Frutos, “El epitafio épico del Cid”. Although the epitaph most likely borrowed information from the Crónica de Castilla, we can also assume that it reflects the special relevance of this episode in Cardeña’s Cidian imaginary. The tendency to rationalize was first pointed out by Russell, “San Pedro de Cardeña”, pp. 78-81, although he attributed this characteristic to the monastic text. The view about this matter fundamentally affects how the Cidian text is understood. “Segunt cuenta la estoria que conpuso Abenalfarax, sobrino de Gil Diaz” (PCG, p. 633a2425); “Segunt cuenta Abenalfarax que fizo esta estoria en arauigo” (p. 638a50-51). The author of the “Interpolación” even includes “Abenalfarax” as a character in the story (PCG, chapter 957). The invention of this apocryphal source was inspired by a reference in the previous section about the Cid’s conquest of Valencia: “diz Abenfarax en su arauigo, onde esta estoria fue sacada” (PCG, p. 578b30-31). However, in this case it could be an authentic 438 Bautista these contents that, often times, verge on being implausible. In my opinion, the author of the “Interpolación” is also responsible for identifying the Moor who converts to Christianity with the historical figure Alwaqqašī (“Alhuacaxi”), who had been mentioned before during the conquest of Valencia as both alfaquí and author of an elegy directed to the people of the city. In this case, the identification is rather careless, since Alhuacaxi is described as the Moor the Cid had made alcalde years earlier, when in fact this detail actually refers to Albenalfarax.60 Other traits pretending to superficially link the section depending on the *Leyenda de Cardeña with the previous narration also may be attributed to the author of the “Interpolación”.61 Nevertheless, certain connections that exist between the part deriving from the monastic source and the episodes linked to the Cid’s gesta – found in minor details and not necessary for historiographical ends – point to the possibility that the narration about the “Afrenta de Corpes” and the “Cortes de Toledo” as it is recounted in the “Interpolación” formed part of the *Leyenda de Cardeña. After applying ointments to the hero’s body, his men bring it to “la eglesia de Santa Maria de las Uirtudes” (PCG, p. 636a31). This same church is mentioned in passing and only once in the text, in a speech by Álvar Fáñez during a session at the “Cortes de Toledo”, in reference to the church of the Cid’s daughters’ marriage to the infantes (PCG, p. 618b32-33).62 Rodrigo Díaz’s polemical bench, that was mentioned earlier, happens to be one of the Cidian relics preserved at Cardeña (PCG, p. 604b27-34). Furthermore, the second battle with Bucar is inextricably linked to the first battle as recounted in the “Interpolación” with significant differences from the Poema’s narration. In the interpolation, unlike the narration in the Poema, Bucar does not die, but rather he boards “sus naues” and manages to escape even though the Cid succeeds in reaching the Moorish king by hurling the sword at him and hitting him “en las espaldas” (PCG, p. 606b27-28).63 The novelties of that first battle with Bucar cannot be attrib- 60 61 62 63 reference, as Montaner Frutos and Boix Jovaní have argued, Guerra en Sarq Al’andalus, pp. 214-16. Compare PCG, p. 632a50-b9 with PCG, chapters 909-10. The inspiration for describing Abenalfarax as Gil Díaz-Alhuacaxi’s nephew may be found at the beginning of chapter 911. The many references to the “huerta de Villanueva” (PCG, pp. 629a47, 631a23-24, and 638a41) seem to be an echo of earlier references made to this same place (PCG, pp. 570b3233, 580b36-37, and 592b15). However, when narrating the nuptials (PCG, chapter 928), the “Interpolación” faithfully adheres to the Poema, which does not reference the church either. The transformation of this episode is also connected to the story about the sword Tizón, which is slightly different from the information provided in the Poema, where the Cid wins it upon killing Bucar (v. 2426). In the “Interpolación”, just before entering battle with Poema de mio Cid in 13th- and 14th-Century Romance Historiography 439 uted to the author of the “Interpolación” since they are found in an earlier text that has no direct relationship with it: the Castilian translation of Jiménez de Rada’s Historia gothica, also known as Estoria de los godos (c.1252-53).64 Therefore, it is most likely that this peculiar narration about the “Afrenta de Corpes” and the “Cortes de Toledo” – as well as other details I have mentioned – could have been part of the *Leyenda de Cardeña, which perhaps recorded the Cid’s biography after his conquest of Valencia.65 The creation of the *Leyenda de Cardeña has generally been dated to the times of Alfonso X – more specifically, to the years leading up to the renovation of the Cid’s sepulcher commissioned by the Wise King (probably sometime between 1272 and 1281), since the “Interpolación” describes the old location of the tomb and does not mention the monarch’s intervention.66 However, taking into consideration the references to Cardeña’s traditions preserved in the Estoria de los godos, we can date it a few years earlier, around 1250. If this date is correct, it is probable that Alfonso X was familiar with this text, especially 64 65 66 the Moorish king, Rodrigo Díaz explains that he gave Colada and Tizón to the Infantes of Carrión when they married his daughters (PCG, p. 603b37-45). Although the “Interpolación” later mentions that the Cid won the sword Tizón in the battle against Bucar (PCG, p. 606b29-31), I believe this detail was taken from the Poema and awkwardly incorporated into the text by its author, not taking into consideration the denouement of the episode. “Depues Ruy Diaz priso Ualençia e uino sobrel Bucar con grandes poderes […] e uençieron a Bucar, y el escapo a pies de cauallo fasta el mar, que se puso en una galea; los otros fueron todos muertos e presos e fue muy grand la ganançia del canpo” (Ward, Estoria de los godos, p. 148). Note the similar way in which both texts describe how Bucar is chased to the sea and flees by ship. The importance of this passage was pointed out by Catalán in “Rodericus” romanzado, pp. 83-85 and 94. It is quite possible that this tradition originated in Cardeña since the Estoria de los godos includes an episode about King Sancho of Navarre that is also connected to the monastery (Catalán, “Rodericus” romanzado, pp. 16566), which I address in the pages ahead. It is also worth noting that memories of the conflict between the Cid and Bucar seems to have had an early and special influence in Cardeña, as Montaner has pointed out, Cantar de mio Cid, pp. 933-34. It may be possible to establish connections between Cardeña and the list of knights accompanying the Cid to the Cortes in Toledo (PCG, chapter 939), as proposed by Smith, “The Diffusion of the Cid Cult”, pp. 42-43. These and other knights are among those entombed in the monastery, and despite the fact that the earliest lists recording their names date to the 15th century, there is evidence that they originated from the Crónica de Castilla. For the use of the Cidian myth in Cardeña in the 14th and 15th centuries, see Bautista, “Cardeña, Pedro de Barcelos y la Genealogía del Cid”. Smith is inclined to accept this date, “The Cid as Charlemagne”, pp. 525-31. For the date of the Alfonsine intervention, which is mentioned in the Crónica de Castilla, see Catalán, “Rodericus” romanzado, p. 93, and Hijano Villegas, “La materia cidiana en las crónicas generales”, p. 158, with bibliography. 440 Bautista considering his connection to the monastery and his interest in the Cid’s remains. If the *Leyenda de Cardeña never got to be incorporated into the archetype of the Estoria de España, this was possibly not due to an act of censorship, but rather to the incompleteness of this section and because the draft used for the Versión crítica had not yet integrated this source.67 Similar to what happened with the Arabic history about the conquest of Valencia, the inclusion of the *Leyenda de Cardeña in the “Interpolación” was far less selective than in the Versión crítica, which to a certain degree compensates for its loss and allows us at least to know its fundamental characteristics. On the other hand, if the episodes of the “Afrenta de Corpes” and the “Cortes de Toledo” as narrated in the “Interpolación” were part of the *Leyenda, its source would have been close to a poem very similar to the extant one that was reelaborated to provide a more dramatic narration in which some scenes were more complex, such as the ones related to the diffusion of the news about the violent abuse of the Cid’s daughters, while others, such as the episodes of the “Cortes de Toledo”, were given a more sensational spin. It is possible that the increased number of people in the hero’s entourage was meant to establish connections with certain noble families, and thus help disseminate the legend and increase the renown of the monastery. In the last part, the Cid is portrayed as a flawless individual whose death is worthy of a saint, and whose embalmed body, now in Cardeña, played a fundamental role in the miracle that resulted in the conversion of a Jew to Christianity. The “Interpolación cidiana” is a challenging palimpsest that, for many reasons, has not been studied sufficiently. Employing Alfonsine materials such as the translation of the Arabic source about the conquest of Valencia or the prosification of the PMC, the author created an entirely new story destined to complete a material lacuna in the compilatory draft of the Estoria de España that had been used to compose the Versión amplificada. In this process, it seems that the author preserved the essential contents of his sources. Showing no inclination to abbreviate his narration like the author of the Versión crítica, he tended instead to amplify and even deduce some of the contents. In his treatment of the prosification of the PMC, the author is more prone to magnify the figure of the Cid, portraying him as an example of the perfect vassal. However, not all innovations are the product of his inventiveness: just as he did not create the episodes about the final moments of the Cid’s life or his entombment 67 See Hijano Villegas, “La materia cidiana en las crónicas generales”, p. 159. For another legendary story originating from Cardeña that was later integrated into the Estoria de España yet absent from the Versión crítica, see Bautista, “Pseudo-historia y leyenda”. It is probable that both texts arrived to the Alfonsine workshop at the same time. Poema de mio Cid in 13th- and 14th-Century Romance Historiography 441 in Cardeña, which must derive from a work now lost that was redacted at that monastery, so one cannot ascribe to him the version of the “Afrenta de Corpes”, the “Cortes de Toledo”, and some of the details incorporated into the episode of the lion and the battle with Bucar. Given the evident connections between this section and the episodes about the hero’s death, it is very likely that this new version – clearly literary in nature – was part of the *Leyenda de Cardeña. In short, with the incorporation of this narration, the author not only was completing the Cid’s history with details relative to his final days – amidst devotion and miracles – but he was also introducing a more tumultuous and stirring representation of the clash between the Cid’s camp and that of the Infantes of Carrión, thus accentuating the tension between two models of nobility and promoting the one that favored royal service and valor. As Fernán Alfonso says to Count García Ordóñez: “aquel que se a de asentar en este escanno, mas val que uos nin que todo el uuestro linage” (PCG, p. 616b2-4). 5 The Cid and the Chronicles of Castile From the end of the 13th century, the diffusion and reworkings of the Estoria de España, based on its various redactions, began to be circumscribed to specific sections rather than focus on the entire work. As expected, the part that garnered most attention was the history of Castile. As for the models utilized, only in one case the Versión crítica was used as the base text, while the rest is connected to a factitious archetype similar to that of E2 and F, which juxtaposes the “Interpolación cidiana” and the Versión amplificada. With respect to the second Alfonsine redaction, the Versión crítica, a section was isolated beginning with Fruela II that contains the story about the Jueces de Castilla. This gave rise to a family of manuscripts commonly known as the Crónica de veinte reyes that enjoyed a wide diffusion.68 Although in this case the textual base was hardly modified, in others, the separation of Castile’s history prompted the introduction of several innovations. The first of these reworkings, which comprises the reigns from Fernando I through Fernando III, was the Crónica manuelina. It was based on a text very similar to the one transmitted by manuscript F and presents several novelties, some pertaining to the Cid.69 Even though hardly 68 69 Fernández-Ordóñez, “Versión crítica” de la “Estoria de España”; Campa, La “Estoria de España” de Alfonso X. The Crónica manuelina, which Catalán believed to be lost as of 2005 (“Rodericus” romanzado, p. 86), has reached us in a contaminated and factitious manuscript (British Library, Egerton 289, 15th-16th century), partially identified by Pattison (“Ms Egerton 289”). Hijano 442 Bautista any testimonies of this work have survived, it coincides with the text summarized by Don Juan Manuel in his Crónica abreviada (c.1320-25) – meant as a history of Spain beginning with King Fernando I’s reign – which gives it the name by which it is known.70 The second and most important reworking is the Crónica de Castilla, which also spans the reigns of Fernando I to Fernando III and grants special attention to all information related to Rodrigo Díaz.71 For the reins of Fernando I, Sancho II, and Alfonso VI, this work probably relied on the archetype of the Crónica manuelina, reproducing all the innovations of this text, but it was systematically revised, eliminating internal contradictions and using new sources, among others, the Mocedades de Rodrigo. The texts produced later are less original and newsworthy in the way they present the Cid. Pedro de Barcelos’ Crónica de 1344, based on the Galician translation of the Crónica de Castilla, does not contain significant changes or additions.72 Finally, for the reigns of Fernando I, Sancho II, and Alfonso VI, the Crónica ocampiana, which was probably compiled throughout the 14th century, follows a text that is very similar to the one preserved in manuscript F, with textual contaminations from both the Crónica de Castilla (especially the section about Fernando I’s reign) and the Crónica manuelina, hardly presents any distinctive characteristics of its own.73 Although these two chronicles played a very important role in the diffusion of the Cidian legend – since both had a wide circulation during the 15th century and the Crónica ocampiana is the base text for Florián de Ocampo’s 1541 edition of the section after Fernando I – their contribution to the historiographical construction of the Cid is less significant, a reason why I will not dwell on them. Instead, I will focus my attention 70 71 72 73 Villegas has written an important study about it, “A Sixteenth-Century Compiler of the Estoria de España”, with an exhaustive bibliography. There is a second manuscript – more complete, uncontaminated, and hitherto unknown –, which I have studied recently (Bautista, “Juan de Pineda”). With both testimonies in hand, we will be able to study this text, which is crucial for better understanding post-Alfonsine chronicles. The quotations that follow are based on the Egerton Manuscript that, like Hijano, I refer with the abbreviation Br. See Catalán’s fundamental study, “Don Juan Manuel ante el modelo alfonsí”, and Pattison, “Juan Manuel’s Crónica abreviada”. We have now an edition of the Crónica de Castilla prepared by Rochwert-Zuili. Cintra, Crónica Geral de Espanha de 1344. The Galician translation was edited by Lorenzo, La traducción gallega de la “Crónica general” y de la “Crónica de Castilla”. See Bustos, “Crónica ocampiana”, with accompanying bibliography. This text corresponds to the “cuarta parte” of Florián de Ocampo’s edition, Las quatro partes enteras de la Cronica de España. We still do not have a comprehensive study about the composition of this text and its principal characteristics, although Hijano Villegas’ analysis of this matter is rather advanced. Poema de mio Cid in 13th- and 14th-Century Romance Historiography 443 on those particular characteristics that are proper to the Crónica manuelina and the Crónica de Castilla, and make a brief comment on Pedro de Barcelos’ work. The Crónica manuelina, which likely was written in the final years of the 13th century, introduced diverse minor glosses about the Cid in sections originating from literary and historical sources, and it also contains two important episodes related to Rodrigo Díaz. Although one of them is included in a section deriving, at least in part, from the PMC, such a new episode is totally extraneous to both the Poema as well as the epic tradition. Therefore, we can say that one considerable difference between the Crónica manuelina and the other chronicles examined thus far is that its author did not resort to the Poema again, nor did he incorporate any information pertaining to epic texts. If at times the Crónica manuelina is closer to the PMC, it happens because it reflects the archetype from which all these texts originate more precisely than E2 or F. It seems that the glosses in the Crónica manuelina are meant to clarify some information or round off episodes.74 For example, the author indicates that the vistas (audience) between Alfonso VI and the Cid – where Rodrigo is granted the royal pardon and the marriage between his daughters and the Infantes of Carrión is arranged – occurs in Requena (Br, fol. 105v; cf. PCG, cap. 927). When narrating the first battle with Bucar, it is said that fifteen kings died (Br, fol. 109v; cf. PCG, cap. 931). In the text of the “Interpolación” transmitted by manuscripts E2 and F (PCG, p. 620b25-27), the Infantes of Carrión’s speeches justifying their vile conduct on the basis that they are of a nobler lineage than the Cid remain unrefuted. Instead, the Crónica manuelina adds a speech pronounced by the King in which he expounds on the Cid’s lineage (Br, fols. 118v-119r) in accordance with data contained in the same Estoria de España (PCG, p. 387b26-40).75 At the conclusion of the judicial duels, when the monarch orders for the field to be cleared, the author says that King Alfonso “dio aquel dia por alevosos a los Infantes” (Br, fol. 123v; cf. PCG, p. 627a36). Other details were added to the section about the Cid’s death and burial. For instance, it is pointed out that on the bench on which his body rested “las armas del rey don Alfonso de Castilla et de Leon, et del rey de Navarra, et del Ynfante de Aragon, et las del Çid Canpeador” were painted (Br, fol. 132v; cf. PCG, p. 640b34), 74 75 The majority of the characteristics mentioned here were identified by Catalán, “Don Juan Manuel ante el modelo alfonsí”, pp. 219-20. See also, Hijano Villegas, “La Crónica de Castilla”. This addition is included and modified in the Crónica de Castilla; see Hijano Villegas’ comparison of these texts, “La Crónica de Castilla”, pp. 649-50. 444 Bautista and the Cid’s burial ten years after his body arrived to Cardeña is briefly described (Br, fol. 134r; cf. PCG, p. 643a20-22).76 The two most important episodes added to the text constitute unified, almost autonomous narrations. The first has Martín Peláez of Asturias as protagonist and follows the chapter dealing with the battle against the king of Seville (corresponding to chapter 922 of the PCG).77 It narrates how this knight became part of the Cid’s retinue and, despite his corpulence, was “de covarde coraçon”. One day, when he attempts to eat at the same table as Álvar Fáñez and other brave knights, the Cid takes him by the hand, has him sit by his side, and says to him, “Non sodes vos tal que merezcades asentarvos con esos”. The next day, Martín Peláez does not immediately flee from a battle with the Moors, and later on at dinner, the Cid tells him that he deserves to eat out of his own “escudilla” (bowl) because he fought better than before. At that moment, Martín Peláez realizes that Rodrigo Díaz is aware of his conduct and, ashamed, he fights as one of the bravest knights from that day forward and deserves to sit with Álvar Fáñez and the others. This episode is almost an exemplum, originating perhaps from the oral tradition; it emphasizes the superiority of bravery over physical qualities and the importance of shame in knightly ethics, while portraying the Cid as both a military leader and educator of knights who rewards his men in accordance with their respective actions.78 The second episode is related to the Cidian cult at Cardeña. After the final chapter deriving from the *Leyenda de Cardeña about the conversion of the Jew who takes the name Diego Gil and of his death together with that of Gil Díaz, the Crónica manuelina adds a chapter set at a much later time, in 1185, in which Sancho VI of Navarre is the protagonist (Br, fols. 134v-135r). In his conflict with Alfonso VIII, he raids Castile several times and during one of the incursions, he pillages a large number of “ganados et bestias et bueyes”. When the abbot of Cardeña had knowledge of this, he and other monks carrying the Cid’s banner rode out to meet King Sancho who was passing by the monastery. 76 77 78 There are other innovations in this section that do not require us to assume another source was used (Catalán, “Rodericus” romanzado, pp. 89-92). Pattison has edited this chapter, “Ms Egerton 289”, pp. 22-25; it also appears in the Crónica de Castilla (Rochwert Zuili, Crónica de Castilla, pp. 179-81). Chalon, L’histoire et l’épopée castillane, p. 275; Rochwert-Zuili, “Du Poème à l’Histoire”, pp. 329-32; and Lacomba, Au-delà du “Cantar de mio Cid”, pp. 123-25, identify the earliest documentation of this story in the Crónica de Castilla and put forward the idea that the author of the chronicle created it. However, considering that this account is found in the Crónica manuelina, whose author seems less inclined to invent episodes, this explanation seems less convincing. Moreover, there is nothing to suggest that it originated in the epic tradition. See Drury’s study, “Martin Pelaez, aquel timido asturiano”. Poema de mio Cid in 13th- and 14th-Century Romance Historiography 445 During their encounter, the king of Navarre acknowledged his relationship with Rodrigo Díaz, and handed over his spoils to the abbot, stayed at the Monastery of Cardeña for several days, and upon his departure “ofrecio bien dozientas doblas de oro por el alma del Çid su visabuelo”.79 Based on all available evidence, this episode, which first appeared in an independent form in the Estoria de los godos (c.1252-53), most likely originated from the *Leyenda de Cardeña, which had been used before for the “Interpolación cidiana”.80 Its absence in the manuscripts E2 and F is due to the timeframe of this episode – that is to say, because it did not occur during the reign of Alfonso VI, but rather a century later, during the reign of Alfonso VIII. By integrating it into its text, the Crónica manuelina gives greater priority to information about the Cid than to chronological order.81 A last innovation is particularly interesting for being a symptom of a new historiographical trend already present in the Versión amplificada and the “Interpolación”: it is more inclusive, less faithful to its sources, and increasingly distant from the Alfonsine parameters. After narrating the Cid’s victory over “Iunes” (which corresponds to the PCG, chapter 925), the Crónica manuelina adds that the Moorish king – saddened from his defeat – returns to Morocco, becomes ill, and dies (Br, fol. 104r). Before he expires, however, he makes his brother Bucar swear that he will battle with Rodrigo Díaz and get vengeance from him. This oath is later recorded in a brief additional chapter in which Bucar’s preparations for war are described and where it is said that these details were taken from an Estoria de los reyes moros que reynaron en el señorio de Africa (Br, fol. 107r). In my judgment, this source, which was added to justify, 79 80 81 About this episode, see Montaner Frutos, “La enseña del Cid”; Catalán, “Rodericus” romanzado, pp. 83-85, and Solera López, “El manuscrito D de la Crónica de Castilla”, pp. 93-98. “Estonz seyendo y los reyes corrio el rey de Navarra fasta Burgos e por señal dio de la espada en un olmo; e traya grand presa e pasaua por Sant Pedro de Cardeña e oyo dezir que ali iazie Ruy Diaz, e por hondra del dexo la presa que traye” (Ward, Estoria de los godos, pp. 165-66). The text of the Crónica de Castilla incorporates more details from its source than manusript Br, such as a description of the elm tree: “E con grand brío dyo vn espadada en el olmo, que está ante la iglesia de Sant Johan de Burgos” (Rochwert Zuili, Crónica de Castilla, p. 249). In the Estoria de los godos, Sancho VII is the protagonist of this episode, which takes place during his wars with Castile, and, therefore, it more accurately corresponds to the political situation. In my opinion, this episode does not directly originate from the *Leyenda de Cardeña, but rather from an adaptation of it produced in the historiographical workshop before the Crónica manuelina was redacted, as indicated by the detailed chronology at the beginning of the chapter. I do not find evidence that could indicate that either this work or the Crónica de Castilla made direct use of the *Leyenda. 446 Bautista among other fictitious data, the relationship between the brothers as well as Bucar’s promise to avenge Iunes, is clearly an obvious fabrication.82 However, the invention of an apocryphal source is in tune with the creation of the “estoria” about Abenalfarax in the “Interpolación” mentioned earlier; it reveals the desire to justify extraordinary episodes or purely invented information by means of a fictional authority.83 All the innovations I have mentioned reappear in the Crónica de Castilla. Although it would seem logical to conclude that this work was based on the Crónica manuelina, their relationship is not that simple. As Catalán and Hijano Villegas have shown, some of the innovations are sporadically incorporated into the Crónica de Castilla in a slightly different way, as in the case of the story about Martín Peláez.84 However, I am inclined to believe that all the features analyzed thus far are typical of the Crónica manuelina and define the project that characterizes this text. If the order in which they appear in the Crónica de Castilla is slightly different, it may be due to the fact that this text knew the original Crónica manuelina where some innovations were still marginal additions or were written on folios inserted into the text.85 This is an important consideration because it places the Crónica manuelina as the forerunner of the works limited to narrating the history of Castile, and it reveals that some of the innovations attributed to the Crónica de Castilla actually originated with the Crónica manuelina. In any case, if all this helps to explain some of the characteristics by better identifying the traits of the textual model used to compose the Crónica de Castilla, it does not take away from its fundamental importance. Redacted during the times of Fernando IV – between 1295 and 1310 – the Crónica de Castilla represents an ideological turning point within the general chronicles written in Romance; it also implies a radicalization or culmination of some literary characteristics already found in the Versión amplificada. Regarding its ideology, it is a text that concedes greater importance to the aristocracy and offers a reading of the Cidian legend from the nobility’s perspective. For instance, it affirms Rodrigo Díaz’s ancient and noble lineage and cites his family’s long-established 82 83 84 85 For this new information, see Chalon, L’histoire et l’épopée castillane, pp. 249-50. Bautista, La materia de Francia, pp. 21-23; see also Montaner Frutos, “Historicidad medieval y protomoderna”. Catalán, “Don Juan Manuel ante el modelo alfonsí”, pp. 219-20; Hijano Villegas, “La Crónica de Castilla”, pp. 650-51 In the articles cited in the previous note, Catalán and Hijano Villegas propose that both chronicles derive from a single prototype that shared these characteristics. However, in my view, this creates an unnecessary intermediary text and trivializes the importance of the Crónica manuelina. Poema de mio Cid in 13th- and 14th-Century Romance Historiography 447 tutelary relationship with Kings Fernando I, Sancho II, and Alfonso VI. During these three reigns, it is the Cid who gives an authentic continuity to the history. Among its literary characteristics, there is a greater tendency to invent scenes and even entire episodes, and, in general, a pronounced freedom to manipulate the textual model used as its basis. While the interventions in the Crónica manuelina seem to be concentrated in specific places, the Crónica de Castilla undertakes a total revision of its model, eliminating contradictions, incorporating details or glosses, inventing fragments, giving it a uniform style, updating information, and revisiting the epic tradition.86 In effect, not all the innovations are the fruit of the author’s creativity. Rather, he relied upon a poem that, until that time, had not been utilized in historiographical writings – the Mocedades de Rodrigo – but it is also possible that he garnered information from other works, among them, the PMC. But before examining the relationship between the Crónica de Castilla and the cantares de gesta (epic songs), it is worth reviewing some of the author’s deductions and inventions in order to briefly illustrate the poetics of his text.87 This work shows a considerable interest in genealogical matters linked to the Cidian legend. Because of this, it reproduces the Cid’s lineage that appears in the Mocedades de Rodrigo and systematizes all references to his family, clarifying, for example, that Martín Antonlínez, Fernán Alfonso, and Ordoño are the hero’s nephews. Similarly, it standardizes all the allusions to Álvar Fáñez as the Cid’s cousin, while in both the “Interpolación” and the Crónica manuelina, he is sometimes referred to as the Cid’s cousin in the passages that originate from the *Leyenda de Cardeña, and at other times as his daughters’ cousin, in accordance with the Poema. Besides the task of giving uniformity to the information included in the text, the author also invented scenes and episodes with a literary objective, among others, in order to produce a closed and meaningful narrative. And thus, while the Estoria de España, following the Historia Roderici (§18), briefly narrates the betrayal at Rueda (PCG, p. 356a) – relating the disaster as well as the reconciliation between Alfonso VI and Rodrigo – the author of the Crónica de Castilla invents a fictional act of revenge for what happened. First, it is the king who 86 87 For the Crónica de Castilla, see the studies by Martin, Les Juges de Castille, pp. 433-541; Rochwert-Zuili, “Du Poème à l’Histoire”; Catalán, La épica española, pp. 278-314; and Lacomba, Au-delà du “Cantar de mio Cid”. In the pages ahead, I quote Rochwert Zuili’s edition of the Crónica de Castilla, indicating only the page number. I have in mind the observations Catalán made in “Poesía y novela”, which was reprinted in La “Estoria de España” de Alfonso X (I quote this edition), pp. 139-56; see also by the same author, La épica española, pp. 279-83. 448 Bautista asks the Cid to go to where the treason occurred, and Rodrigo uses this opportunity to obtain a series of privileges for the “fijosdalgo”. After that, instead of returning to Castile with the king, the Cid lays siege to the Moors who remain in Rueda, engages in a long battle with them until he takes the castle, and kills or captures all of them (p. 131-32). The author of the Crónica de Castilla could not have imagined that the disaster at Rueda would go unpunished; therefore, he invented the entire episode in which the Cid also acquired nobiliary privileges.88 Other similar cases could be cited that, taken as a whole, reveal a process of elaboration primarily oriented by aesthetic and ideological criteria which placed greater emphasis on invention than had been seen in the production of earlier historiographical texts. The most important innovation is the adaption of the story of the Mocedades de Rodrigo (dated at the end of the 13th century), that takes up eleven chapters in the first part of the chronicle and is also the cause of other modifications in the text.89 Although a comparison of the chronicle and the Mocedades de Rodrigo is complicated due to the late date of the extant poetic text that, among other things, contains passages that could not have been included in the version known by the author of the Crónica de Castilla, it is certain that he used this new epic text with the same degree of freedom he exercised elsewhere in his work. He preserved the essential elements of the story, yet he tended to suppress or reduce the space dedicated to the conflicts between the Cid and other Castilian nobles. If the extant poetic text reproduces the same temperament the hero had in the version known by the chronicler, then he must have minimized Rodrigo’s pride and insolence. The Cid’s role as a knight is centered on defending the realm either by fighting the Moors or by combating the Holy Roman Emperor and the king of France, who threaten to impose a tribute on Castile. In this sense, facing a weak king like Fernando I, an overly ambitious or proud one such as Sancho II, and even Alfonso VI, it is the Cid who fights the wars against their enemies for decades. However, the Mocedades de Rodrigo is not only adapted to the chronicler’s interests but also made to agree with other information about the hero provided by the text, which results, for example, in the shift of his investiture as a knight to the conquest of Coimbra, an episode of historiographical origin. There are other additions in the chronicle related to the *Cantar de Sancho II. The Crónica de Castilla reproduces a text similar to the one in the Versión 88 89 See Catalán, “Poesía y novela”, pp. 151-53. Pattison, From Legend to Chronicle, pp. 81-91; Montaner Frutos, “La *Gesta de las Mocedades de Rodrigo”; Martin, Les Juges de Castille, pp. 435-98; and Catalán, La épica española, pp. 283-300. Poema de mio Cid in 13th- and 14th-Century Romance Historiography 449 amplificada (via the Crónica manuelina) that includes only some of the epic text’s motifs when narrating the death of Fernando I. To this textual base, the author of the Crónica de Castilla adds some details from the epic tradition, like situating the final days of the king in Cabezón or the presence of Cardinal Fernando, the king’s illegitimate son, to whom he entrusts his kingdom (p. 86). Further ahead, after the Battle of Golpejera, near Carrión, in which Alfonso VI is taken prisoner by his brother, there is also an episode in which doña Urraca kneels before Sancho II and pleads for Alfonso’s liberation. After consulting the Cid, the king of Castile concedes only on the condition that Alfonso becomes a monk (p. 94). Without modifying the narrative contents of his model, the author of the Crónica de Castilla seems to echo the epic tradition in some discourses in which series of assonances are detected: for example, in the advice the people of Zamora give to Urraca when her brother proposes to exchange the city for other towns, in the warning to Sancho about the traitor Bellido Dolfos that is uttered by a voice emanating from Zamora, and in both the challenge issued to the people of Zamora and Arias Gonzalo’s response (pp. 100, 103, and 107).90 The most noteworthy and best-known example involving an epic text is the episode of the “Jura de Santa Gadea”, which the Crónica de Castilla presents with an undeniable poetic character – so much so, in fact, that a fragment of more than twenty verses can be recuperated without distorting the text (p. 113).91 Even though, as Montaner has noted, the author of the Crónica de Castilla sometimes may create a rhymed prose, all of these passages are clearly related to the epic tradition and seem to transmit traces of stanzas in verses.92 As such, it would be fair to ask if the author of the Crónica de Castilla was familiar with an epic work by means of a manuscript or through the oral tradition – that is to say, based on memories from recited epic poetry. This second possibility could explain, on the one hand, why he relied on the epic tradition only in specific cases and, on the other, why there is a correlation between new information of epic origin – in general, in direct discourse and rather dramatic episodes – and segments that seemingly reveal traces of assonance. Whatever the case, the *Cantar de Sancho II that was known to the author of the Crónica de Castilla does not seem to be different from the text used years earlier in Alfonso X’s workshop, considering that the innovations I already mentioned do not stand in contradiction with it. 90 91 92 Catalán, La épica española, pp. 300-05. Also see Montaner’s prudent warnings in “Cave carmen!” and in “Revisión textual del Cantar de mio Cid”, p. 150. Pattison, From Legend to Chronicle, pp. 105-07; Catalán, La épica española, pp. 305-06. Montaner, “Cave carmen!”. 450 Bautista Finally, some of the traits that are proper to the Crónica de Castilla have something to do with the narration of the PMC, in particular, its initial scenes. Certain modifications can surely be attributed to the author, as when he places the conversation between the hero and Martín Antolínez in which both of them devise the scheme to deceive the Jewish moneylenders immediately before the Cid’s departure from Vivar (p. 118), a modification perhaps related to the fact that Martín Antolínez is now, in accordance with the Mocedades, the Cid’s nephew. In light of the compiler’s creative spirit, neither is necessary to suppose an oral tradition derivation to the Cid’s discourse upon leaving Vivar in which he begs the Virgin to grant him the ability to destroy “todos los paganos” (p. 119). As we have already seen – and as it can be observed throughout the entire text – the war against the infidels is the principal obligation of every knight, and all other duties – including vasallatic service – are subordinate to it.93 In other cases, it is more difficult to determine the origin of some innovations such as the detail about the animals that the Cid pillaged as he was leaving Burgos, which he later freed once he realized that nobody was following him (p. 119). In the same scene, however, the reference to an elderly woman who says to Rodrigo as he leaves Vivar, “Ve en tal punto que todo astragues quanto fallares e quisieres” (p. 119), may have a traditional origin.94 The same can be said of another passage also related to the Cid’s exile, namely, his meeting with Alfonso VI that takes place between Burgos and Vivar. When the king does not allow Rodrigo to kiss his hand and then banishes him from the kingdom, the knight mocks the monarch in return and says, while standing on the lands of his estate, “No estó en la vuestra tierra” (p. 118). It is rather surprising that these innovations are found in the episode in which the Cid is exiled, and that its irreverent and destructive tone is more similar to that of the Mocedades de Rodrigo than to that of the PMC or the *Cantar de Sancho II. This makes it difficult to situate the possible textual echoes within the panorama of the Cidian epic.95 93 94 95 Compare this with the Cid’s confession at his time of death added by the author of the Crónica de Castilla: “Otrosý, Señor, non desanpares estos reynos de Castilla e de León, que fincara en tan grand desanparo por mengua de señor, nin quieras dar lugar a los enemigos de la santa fe catholical, que querrán follar los tus santos altares en que se consagra cada día el tu santo cuerpo” (p. 253). This passage is incorporated along with a reference that seems to attest to its traditional origins: “E dizen que demandó la bestia para caualgar, e entonçe que dixo vna vieja a la su puerta” (119). For the many different interpretations of this complicated series of problems, see Armistead, “The Initial Verses”; Powell, “The Opening Lines”; Smith, “The Variant Version”; Poema de mio Cid in 13th- and 14th-Century Romance Historiography 451 It is within this context that we find the most important innovation related to the tradition of the PMC; it affects the initial verses of the poem, now lost due to the disappearance of the first folio of the Vivar codex. It is a well-known passage because it has been edited often with the poetic text since the times of Menéndez Pidal.96 The author of the Crónica de Castilla reelaborated the textual model he was using and added a few lines containing the dialogue in which Álvar Fáñez promises fidelity and service to the Cid before they leave Vivar (p. 118).97 Similar to the examples from the *Cantar de Sancho II mentioned earlier, we can detect several verses whose assonance is reproduced in the prose text. Although there are no doubts about its relationship with the material originating from the PMC, scholars have questioned if it is related to the extant poetic text or to a reworking rendered from a cyclical perspective. This question arises when we consider other innovations that are present in the Crónica de Castilla, regarding the hero’s banishment but also in the reference to Álvar Fáñez as the Cid’s “primo cormano”, similar to the *Leyenda de Cardeña and the Mocedades, and in contrast to the Poema, where he is Rodrigo’s nephew. The fact that this relationship appears in a rhyming position suggests that the passage does not derive directly from the extant poem, but rather from a reworking produced after the texts I have mentioned.98 However, it could also be explained as a clarifying detail incorporated by the author of the Crónica de Castilla who, as I have already said, standardized the Cid’s relationship with Minaya throughout the text, thus contradicting the Poema’s version.99 Another matter is if the source of this addition was a poetic manuscript or the author’s memory. Since it is the only narrative or prosodic trace of the PMC epic tradition, I am more inclined to believe – as I did with other cases related to the *Cantar de Sancho II – that they are the product of the author’s memory, which would better explain those occasional, peculiar echoes of the epic tradition.100 96 97 98 99 100 Montaner Frutos, “De nuevo sobre los versos iniciales perdidos”; and Catalán, La épica española, pp. 306-13. See Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid, pp. 3-4, 561-63, and 631-32. See a comparison of the texts in Montaner Frutos, “De nuevo sobre los versos iniciales perdidos”, pp. 342-43. This is the view of Armistead, “The Initial Verses”; Powell, “The Opening Lines”; and Catalán, La épica española, pp. 306-13. This is the opinion of Pattison, From Legend to Chronicle, p. 124, and Montaner, Cantar de mio Cid, pp. 561-63 and 631-32; Smith’s conclusion is less clear in “The Variant Version”. Another trace of the PMC tradition is the inclusion of the names of the envoys from Navarre and Aragon: “Et los mensajeros avían nonbres, el de Aragón Yñego Ximénez, et el de Nauarra Ochoa Peres” (p. 225); in the Poema their names are Oiarra and Yéñego Simenoz, mentioned several times (vv. 3394, 3417, and 3422). 452 Bautista The Crónica de Castilla is the most important post-Alfonsine work in the historiographical configuration and diffusion of the Cidian myth; it is, indeed, a true summa of Cidian information for it collects and systematizes levels of sedimentation of successive interventions, integrating the entire narration of the Mocedades de Rodrigo as well as other details. Along with the gestation of an authentic biography of the Cid, the Crónica de Castilla also presented a calculated image of the hero, portrayed as a noble knight, whose fundamental vocation was battling the infidels. The work not only enjoyed a wide circulation throughout the Middle Ages, but limited in some manuscripts to the reigns of Fernando I, Sancho II, and Alfonso VI, it also became known as the Crónica del Cid.101 This is the form in which it was widely known during the Siglo de Oro thanks to an edition prepared by Juan de Velorado, abbot of Cardeña, first printed in 1512 and reprinted two more times in the 16th century.102 Its influence on other texts was also relevant. The most conspicuous case is its use as the textual model for the history of Castile beginning with Fernando I’s reign in Pedro de Barcelos’ Crónica de 1344. Although the author faithfully adheres to the Crónica de Castilla, he occasionally intervenes in certain points revealing his interest in the Cid as a historical figure. To this end, Pedro de Barcelos shifts the presentation of the Cid’s lineage to the reign of Fruela II, where the narrative deals with the Jueces de Castilla, and introduces certain modifications taken, as he indicates, from a Corónica de Sant Pedro de Cardeña. This chronicle, now lost, seems to correspond to a first version of the text edited and updated in 1512 by Juan de Velorado with the title Genealogía del Cid, and included among the appendices to the Crónica particular.103 There could be also some new traces from the Mocedades de Rodrigo, such as the detail of how King Fernando found the ten-year-old Cid as the king was passing through Vivar and brought the boy back to the royal court, where he was educated.104 Finally, the author completed King Fernando’s death scene thanks to a copy of the Versión crítica, which provided a more detailed narration of this episode deriving from the epic tradition.105 Count Pedro de Barcelos con101 102 103 104 105 Some manuscripts of the Crónica de Castilla reference the Cid in their title even though they transmit the entire text; see Solera López, “El manuscrito D de la Crónica de Castilla”. For the 1512 printing, see Bautista, “Cardeña, Pedro de Barcelos y la Genealogía del Cid”, with bibliography. Cintra, Crónica de 1344, II, 480; Bautista, “Cardeña, Pedro de Barcelos y la Genealogía del Cid”. Since the publication of this last study, I have found other traces of the Genealogía in 15th-century Castilian texts that reaffirm my hypothesis. Cintra, Crónica de 1344, III, p. 298; Pattison, From Legend to Chronicle, p. 87. Cintra, Crónica de 1344, I, pp. ccxciv-ccxcviii, and III, pp. 335-47; the medieval Castilian version of this section was edited by Menéndez Pidal, Reliquias de la poesía épica española, pp. 240-56. Poema de mio Cid in 13th- and 14th-Century Romance Historiography 453 solidated the story from the Crónica de Castilla – minimally rounding it off – and his text became yet another means of diffusion not only in Portugal but also in Castile, where it had an influence on the historical works of many 15thcentury authors, including Pablo de Santa María, Alfonso de Cartagena, Diego Rodríguez de Almela, and Lope García de Salazar. 6 Conclusions In light of the earlier tradition of the general chronicles, one of the most original characteristics of the Estoria de España was its inclusion of extensive stories originating from literary sources. As a result of this guiding principle, the legends about the Infantes de Lara or Fernán González, as well as the material linked to the *Cantar de Sancho II and the PMC became integrated into the historiographical discourse. The decision to use these poetic works is surely related to the all-encompassing and courtly nature of the Estoria bound to its condition as a Romance composition, but also to a conception of historical account that combines paying attention to royal successions with interest in the most noteworthy events that happened in the Iberian Peninsula. Thus, the Estoria de España not only is concerned with monarchs but also with los naturales (the people of their reigns), which fostered the inclusion of poems about Bernardo del Carpio, the Infantes de Lara, and the Cid. Although in the canon of Alfonso X’s chroniclers these sources may have been placed on an inferior level than the Latin histories written by Lucas de Tuy and Jiménez de Rada, it is undeniable that they used these poetic sources extensively and rather faithfully, reproducing their narrative plot – at times literally, as can be proven by a comparison with those poetic texts that have reached us. Granting historic authority to these poems seems to have gone hand in hand with their understanding of them as letradura, in the sense that the Alfonsine workshop did not rely mainly on the oral tradition, but rather on poetic manuscripts whose texts were prosified and later combined with information or stories borrowed from other sources. The Estoria de España represents a foundational and, in every sense of the word, an exceptional project. It is foundational because it is at the root of a historiographical current in which Latin histories and heroic poems, among other sources composed in Romance, converge. If such a current sometimes increased the information taken from oral traditions, it was dependent at the same time on the Alfonsine texts that always constituted the base of later works. And it is exceptional because, while the Alfonsine workshop directly used poetic texts, it is common that later we find historiographical rewritings 454 Bautista or echoes of the oral tradition. Only on two occasions were literary sources about the Cid not previously used by the Alfonsine workshop employed extensively. Such is the case of the “Interpolación cidiana”, which made use of the *Leyenda de Cardeña that transmitted abundant information about the hero’s final days and also most likely contained a singular story related to the final part of the PMC that had been subjected to a profound reelaboration. Later, the Crónica de Castilla would add to its textual base the material related to the Mocedades de Rodrigo, completing and consolidating a biography about the Cid that straddles history and poetry. Despite its importance, the study of how the PMC was used in Alfonsine and post-Alfonsine historiography is made difficult due to the unavailability of the first redaction of the Estoria de España that probably was never completed, according to all available data. This is further aggravated by a lacuna in the draft employed by the author of the Versión amplificada, that could have compromised the completion of this text and which happens to correspond to one of the sections in which the Poema had to be used. This lacuna was completed with the “Interpolación cidiana”, which was redacted using some Alfonsine materials, but not a compilation similar to the one used for the Versión crítica, which explains why the results of a comparison with this work are less clear and relevant than in other sections. Another difficulty has to do with the loss of some sources. Just as the Arabic history about the conquest of Valencia has not survived (except for some elusive fragments which have reached us indirectly), we also have lost other literary works about the Cid such as the *Leyenda de Cardeña. Although when analyzing a chronicle it is necessary to try to distinguish the material deriving from a source from that of the compiler, the possibility of reaching any definitive conclusion is rather remote, and, therefore, we can only work with hypotheses that are more or less substantiated. This not only affects the description of the compilers’ work, but the identification of possible literary reelaborations of the Poema as well. Although there is no doubt that Alfonso X’s collaborators used a poem similar to the extant one, and that the modifications in later chronicles generally can be attributed to the historians themselves, this explanation is nevertheless not always satisfactory. This is the case of the “Interpolación cidiana”, which, despite using an Alfonsine prosification in a significant portion of the text – the same prosification that is ultimately at the heart of the Versión crítica – it also used a different story deriving from a literary reworking of the old epic poem that probably formed part of the *Leyenda de Cardeña, as I said before. Whether or not the author of the Crónica de Castilla used a reworking of the beginning part of the PMC is another unresolved question, but there is less evidence to substantiate an answer in this particular case. Poema de mio Cid in 13th- and 14th-Century Romance Historiography 455 One consequence of this chronistic tradition was the growing accumulation of information and stories about the Cid, to the point of generating the narration included in the Crónica de Castilla in which Rodrigo became the true protagonist during the reigns of Fernando I and Alfonso VI. Disseminated independently during the Middle Ages, it took the title of Crónica del Cid. Regarding this, one can clearly establish two branches in the tradition depending on the point or stage of the Alfonsine project on which they are based. On the one hand, we have the Versión crítica – that is to say, the only redaction of the history of Castile after Fernando I that was concluded during the final years of Alfonso X’s reign. This version, which used a PMC similar to the extant one, is characterized by its austerity and coherence, and offers a unified account of the Cid’s biography. Although it was the least influential textual tradition, it gave rise to the Crónica de veinte reyes – which reproduces its text beginning with the reign of Fruela II – and through it achieved greater diffusion. The other branch, richer and more complex, fuses two segments created in the times of Sancho IV that are based on different texts: the Versión amplificada, which relied on an Alfonsine compilation close to the one used by the author of the Versión crítica, and the “Interpolación cidiana”, which began with Alfonsine materials – although probably not from a compilation – and made use of new sources such as the *Leyenda de Cardeña. Such a model is at the base of later works linked to Castile’s history that progressively enrich the Cid’s biography: in particular, the Crónica manuelina and, above all, the Crónica de Castilla, which is, in turn, the model for other important works like the Crónica de 1344. Manuscripts of this last work attained very broad diffusion, thus making their narration about the Cid’s life the most widespread and influential version. Lastly, the importance of the chronicles does not end with the study of their sources, with the possibility of discerning and confirming stories or information originating from now-lost works, or with the analysis of the literary evolution of Romance chronicles and their relationship with the recreation and diffusion of the Cidian legend. Historiographical texts offer a reading of the Poema – conditioned by the filter of each chronistic project – that can be used to contrast and enrich our own understanding of the poem. They also provide exceptional material for researching how the Cid’s character was used for ideological and political ends. From the monarchist Cid described in the Versión crítica, who reveres the king’s authority and shows himself to be an exemplar vassal, to the aristocratic Cid in the Crónica de Castilla who becomes the protagonist of the historic narration, there is a wide range of nuances and inflections that offer fertile ground for studying Castile’s political tensions during the period between the reigns of Alfonso X and Alfonso XI. This perspective 456 Bautista is essential for understanding the vitality of the Cidian legend from the end of the 13th century onward, and the centrality of historiography as an instrument of the legend’s transformation and renovation. In effect, for a considerable period of time, chronicles were the ever-changing and privileged textual stage for the words and deeds of Rodrigo Díaz, the Cid.106 Works Cited Armistead, Samuel G., “The Initial Verses of the Cantar de Mio Cid”, La Corónica 12.2 (1984), 178-86. 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Rochwert-Zuili, Patricia, “El Cantar de Mio Cid y la Crónica de Castilla: emergencia y valoración de los ‘nuevos linajes’ en la historiografía neoalfonsí”, in Carlos Alvar, Fernando Gómez Redondo, and Georges Martin (eds.), El Cid: de la materia épica a las crónicas caballerescas. Actas del Congreso Internacional “IX Centenario de la Muerte del Cid”, celebrado en la Universidad de Alcalá de Henares los días 19 y 20 de noviembre de 1999, Alcalá de Henares: Universidad de Alcalá, 2002, pp. 269-83. Rochwert-Zuili, Patricia, ed., Crónica de Castilla, Paris: SEMH-Sorbonne, 2010, accessible at <http://e-spanialivres.revues.org/137>. Russell, Peter, “San Pedro de Cardeña y la historia heroica del Cid”, in Temas de “La Celestina” y otros estudios: Del “Cid” al “Quijote”, Barcelona: Ariel, 1978, pp. 71-112. Smith, Colin, “The Cid as Charlemagne in the *Leyenda de Cardeña”, Romania 97 (1976), 509-31. Smith, Colin, “The Diffusion of the Cid Cult: A Survey and a Little-Known Document”, Journal of Medieval History 6 (1980), 37-60. Smith, Colin, “The First Prose Redaction of the Poema de mio Cid”, Modern Language Review 82 (1987), 869-86. Smith, Colin, “The Variant Version of the Start of the Poema de mio Cid”, La Corónica 20.2 (1992), 32-41. Solera López, Rus, “El manuscrito D de la Crónica de Castilla: texto y representaciones emblemáticas”, Emblemata 9 (2003), 17-126. Ward, Aengus, ed., Estoria de los godos, Oxford: The Society for the Study of Medieval Languages and Literature, 2006. Poema de mio Cid in 13th- and 14th-Century Romance Historiography 461 Appendix Tentative Genealogical Trees of the Different Versions of the Castilian Chronicles in the Sections Concerning El Cid’s biography [1] Stemma of the Estoria de España from Fernando I to the 24th Year of Alfonso VI’s Reign (Versión crítica, pp. 400-513; PCG, chapters 802-895) * Alfonsine compilation of the Estoria de España Versión crítica (1282-1284) Versión amplificada (1289) E2 F Crónica manuelina Crónica de Castilla Crónica ocampiana [2] Stemma of the Estoria de España from the Conquest of Denia and Tortosa, and the Siege of Aledo until the Cid’s Death (Versión crítica, pp. 514-549; PCG, chapters 896-962) Minor Sources Historia Roderici Alfonsine prosification of the PMC Alfonsine translation of the Arabic account about the conquest of Valencia *Leyenda de Cardeña *Compilation of the Estoria de España Versión crítica Interpolation of the Cid’s story E2 , F Crónica manuelina Crónica de Castilla 462 Figure 14.1 Bautista Incipit of the Corónica del Çid Ruy Díaz Canpeador, el qual nunca fue vençido, mas siempre vençedor, manuscript S of the Crónica de Castilla. With kind permission of the Biblioteca Nacional de España. The Cidian Matter in the 15th Century 463 Chapter 15 The Cidian Matter in the 15th Century Fernando Gómez Redondo Translated by Peter Mahoney The development of the Cidian matter in the 15th century rests on an interesting paradox. The principal text about Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar, the Poema de mio Cid, faded into gradual obscurity, yet its storyline continued to be known due to the prosifications of the poem included in later chronicles. On the other hand, two fictional and rather marginal texts acquired singular predominance: the Mocedades de Rodrigo and the Estoria del Cid, whose hagiographic materials known as the *Leyenda de Cardeña were incorporated into the amplified version of the Alfonsine Estoria de España. It is possible that the Mocedades de Rodrigo was transmitted orally; this may explain why the Refundición carried out in Palencia (c.1365) was copied in manuscript P of the Crónica de Castilla (Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Esp. 36) at the beginning of the 15th century, while at the end of the same century the only manuscript of the Poema de mio Cid was brought from the monastery of San Pedro de Cardeña to the town hall of Vivar. Of the three heroic ages that make up Rodrigo’s literary life, the ones that were of interest in this period correspond to the adulescens (“young knight”), and the senex (“old knight”) because of the lessons taught by the Cid in his court in Valencia, disregarding that of the vir strenuus – the strong warrior who endures the loss of his social and familial dishonor, as narrated in the diptych woven into the Poema de mio Cid. It does not mean that this part of the Cid’s legendary biography was forgotten; rather, it was conditioned by the different renderings with which those events had been absorbed into prose accounts by chroniclers during the second half of the 13th century. From then on, they were molded to fit opposing ideologies, depending on whether the text tried to strengthen royal authority or protect the rights of magnates who were always hostile towards the crown. This tension between the monarchy and the aristocracy intensified throughout the 15th century, particularly during the reign of Juan II (1406-54). In this learned milieu, the representation of the Cid underwent a remarkable ideological revision as to create a paradigm of heroism with which to promote a renovation of the military order sponsored by Álvaro de Luna, aiming at strengthening the image of a weak monarch. The noblemen, for their part, made sure that their genealogical origins were linked to Rodrigo © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004363755_017 464 Gómez Redondo Díaz, believing he represented the values of the very Castilian identity that was undermined by the pressure of the neighboring kingdoms. It was only during the joint reign of the Catholic Monarchs when the conflict between royalty and aristocracy was resolved through the promotion of a new chivalric order that once again relied on the image of Rodrigo Díaz. The Cid served as an example for the cavalry of young knights who bore the heaviest weight of the war with Granada. He also inspired a military doctrine meant to limit the danger posed by the Turks as well as political stances based on his heroic conduct. The transformation that the Cidian material underwent was not based on the old epic songs from the 13th and 14th centuries, but on historical memory that had been shaped by contrasting chronicles. It is to these that 15th-century biographers, compendia’s authors, and historians turn to find the most suitable episodes for the audience of their compilations. Therefore, it is necessary to begin with the images of the Cid found in these older chronicles showing two determining models of heroic conduct that were to be influential in the 15th century.1 All the storylines about the Cid are well integrated in the Crónica de Castilla, a compilation of the Alfonsine material put together at the end of the 13th century – a crucial time when Castile’s identity as a kingdom was at stake. The compiler granted extraordinary value to the material related to the Cid and consolidated the motley and contradictory details about Rodrigo’s life that were circulating at the end of the 13th century. Among them were epic poems (at least the Poema de mio Cid and the primitive *Gesta about his youthful deeds), as well as the different versions of King Alfonso X’s Estoria de España in which at least two epic poems had been intercalated: the Cantar de Sancho II2 and the Poema de mio Cid. These different storylines give rise to two opposing heroic portraits of Rodrigo that are nevertheless complementary in some of their political implications: on the one hand, there is a rebellious Cid, and on the other, there is the Cid who formed part of the royal court. An example of this ambivalence is the Jura de Santa Gadea (the Oath of Santa Gadea), an episode that is difficult to 1 This chapter is based on my article “El Cid humanístico”. However, in this work the analytical perspectives and texts under consideration are different. For a complete study of the development of the Cidian material in the 15th century, see my article. For the Cidian matter in 13th and 14th-century chronicles, see Francisco Bautista’s chapter in this volume. 2 The Cantar de Sancho II (or Cantar de las particiones) narrates the division of the kingdom by Fernando I, and the fratricidal wars that concluded with the death of Sancho II and Alfonso VI’s return to power over the unified realm of Castile and León. The Cidian Matter in the 15th Century 465 situate within the framework of 13th-century epic poems since it is significantly different from the initial sequence of the Poema de mio Cid and the values of its hero. In any case, rather than affirming the paradigm of the rebellious or obstinate hero, the compiler of the Crónica de Castilla wanted to amend the defects of the upper nobility and promote a new chivalric and military order represented by Rodrigo and his retinue, who were taken to be guarantors of royal authority. Furthermore, the Crónica de Castilla, like the Versión amplificada of the Estoria de España, transmitted the *Leyenda de Cardeña, a kind of hagiographic story that recounted Rodrigo’s final exploits in Valencia and the miracles that occurred at his tomb in San Pedro de Cardeña. All the episodes constituting Rodrigo’s legendary biography were woven together in the Crónica de Castilla. The consolidation of these references is to be found in the Cid’s popular image as it developed throughout the 15th century directly or indirectly through Count Pedro de Barcelos’ Crónica geral de Espanha de 1344 – another historiographical text essential for analyzing the aristocratization of the past. 1 King Juan II’s Reign: The Affirmation of Royal Authority Much of the information about the Cid included in the general chronicles that were produced in the 15th century derived from the Crónica de Castilla or from the Crónica de 1344, which circulated both in Portuguese and Spanish in two complementary redactions. It is a revealing detail in light of the fact that after 1420, when Álvaro de Luna freed Juan II – who was held hostage in Tordesillas by his cousin Enrique of Aragon – Castile promoted an ongoing alliance with Portugal in order to keep the Infantes of Aragon from interfering in Castilian affairs. One of the earliest historiographical texts of the 15th century is Las siete edades del mundo, a historical treatise written in verse between 1418 and 1426 by Pablo de Santa María (Burgos, 1350-1435). It is a synthesis of world history beginning with the creation, and it was meant for the education of Juan II, who, still too young for the throne, was under the guardianship of Pablo de Santa María. It contains the essential historical information on which the future king should establish the government of his kingdom. The construction of Castile’s identity begins in stanza 323, and like the Crónica de Castilla, it intertwines the deeds of King Fernando I with those of Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar. When writing about the monarch, the author included details about the first fratricidal war and the expansion of the kingdom of Castile that faced alleged aggressions from León and Navarre. As for the Cid, he recounted how King 466 Gómez Redondo Fernando dubbed the Castilian warrior a knight after Rodrigo defeated the monarch’s brother-in-law, King Bermudo of León, in the battle of Tamarón in 1037: Aqueste con quien ovo el reino quedado fue aquel noble rey don Fernando el primero, que al buen Çid Ruy Díaz armó cavallero3 From this point forward and following the storyline of the Crónica de Castilla, the alliance between the king and the hero results in the liberation of the recently established kingdom from the control of external powers – the emperor, the king of France, and the Pope. This is summarized in the emperor’s defeat and the Pope’s surrender: e ovo a Castilla otrosí libertado cuando con sus huestes ovo caminado fasta Tolosa contra el enperador, el cual con el papa juntos con temor le dieron cuanto les ovo demandado.4 It was important to remember this spirited defense of Castilian identity at the time when Juan II came of age. King Fernando became “par de emperador” thanks to the knightly virtues of a hero who was capable of leading the Castilian army against the powerful alliance of the empire and the papacy. It was a feat that proclaimed Castilian hegemony over the rest of the peninsular kingdoms, while keeping an intentional silence about their monarchs.5 This version of history built upon the echoes of epic songs was confirmed by the Refundición de 1460 of Pablo de Santa María’s chronicle. In the prose commentary, references deriving from epic songs were justified through their inclusion in chronicles linked to the defense of Castilian ideology: […] y por su grant nobleza fue dicho don Fernando par de enperador y después que vençió al rey don Bermudo su cuñado ovo otra batalla con el 3 I quote Conde’s edition, La creación de un discurso historiográfico, stanza 323. The episode is taken from the Alfonsine chronicles, which situate it during the capture of Coimbra (1064) following an allusion from the lost Cantar de Sancho II. 4 Conde, La creación de un discurso historiográfico, stanza 323. 5 Conde explains that, “De hecho, en las Siete edades la linna del relato ya no será sino la de los reyes de Castilla” (La creación de un discurso historiográfico, p. 98). The Cidian Matter in the 15th Century 467 rey don Garçía de Navarra su hermano, en la cual fue vençido y muerto don Garçía y por eso ovo asimesmo el reino de Navarra. Este tobo çercada a Coinbra siete años y el día que se le entregó armó cavallero al Çid Ruy Díaz de Bivar.6 The selection of materials relative to the Mocedades de Rodrigo responds to clear criteria: the youthful exploits that only contribute to the construction of Rodrigo’s heroic identity are disregarded, while everything related to the greater glory of the kingdom is preserved. The same can be said about the second part, which deals with the imposition of the imperial tribute: it avoids mentioning the weakness of the monarch who must be availed by his principal vassal to better highlight the outcome of the campaigns that depended as much on Rodrigo’s military abilities as on the king’s leadership: este Enrique enperador se quexó al papa qu’el dicho rey don Fernando no le quería reconoçer señorío como los otros reyes christianos y el papa gelo requirió, si no que enviaría cruzada sobre él. Estonçe el rey don Fernando aparejó sus huestes y desafió al enperador y pasó los puertos de Aspa y con el Çid Ruy Díaz en la reguarda y peleó con el poder del enperador que venían con don Remón conde de Saboya a le resistir y vençiólos y fue preso el conde y otros muchos cavalleros, y con este temor el papa y el enperador otorgaron al dicho don Fernando cuanto quiso pedir por sus mensajeros a favor y libertad d’España.7 To be sure, the gloss, written in 1460, does reflect the first decade of King Enrique IV’s reign – a prosperous time for the monarch according to his chronicler Diego Enríquez del Castillo. The Refundición also contains one of the few references to the Cid’s exploits during the reign of Alfonso VI. It relates to the ongoing confrontation between royalty and aristocracy: “Éste desterró al Çid Ruy Díaz y prendió a su hermano don Garçía que murió en fierros. Este rey ganó a Toledo y a otras villas y castillos de moros”.8 The chronicler also records correctly that it was Alfonso, not his brother Sancho, who held García I of Galicia in prison until his death. It is a very brief note from the time of the second fratricidal war that ignited tensions that lead Rodrigo to leave the kingdom. However, this information is not recorded by Pablo de Santa María, but rather by his commentator in another context. Juan II’s chancellor, as we have 6 Pablo de Santa María, Las siete edades del mundo: Refundición de 1460, p. 405. 7 Pablo de Santa María, Las siete edades del mundo: Refundición de 1460, p. 405. 8 Pablo de Santa María, Las siete edades del mundo: Refundición de 1460, p. 406. 468 Gómez Redondo seen, was only interested in highlighting the unity that bound Fernando I and Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar, and the latter’s special place at the heart of Castile’s military expansion. 2 Álvaro de Luna’s Definition of the Chivalric Model Rodrigo Díaz’s inclusion in the canon of famous men can be explained by the actions taken by Juan II’s favorite, Álvaro de Luna, to create a chivalric atmosphere around the monarch. A new chivalric code may be seen in many historical works: the corrections to the Segunda parte of the Crónica de Juan II; the encomiastic first section of the Historia written by Álvaro de Luna himself; the Corónica sarracina; and El Victorial – the biography of Pero Niño, first count of Buelna (1431), composed by Gutierre Díaz de Games. In the last work, one finds a chivalric doctrine that deals with a rigorous analysis regarding the appropriate values of an estate dedicated to defending the kingdom and keeping its distance from the splendor of the court. To this end, Díaz de Games reconstructed the group of “los Nueve de la Fama” (the Nine Worthies) in order to include three Spanish heroes who distinguished themselves for their victories against the Moors: E tomen enxemplo del conde Fernán Gonçález, amigo de Dios, que peleando con grand esfuerço e fee, venció el grand poder de Almançor. E del Cid Ruy Díaz: seyendo un pequeño cavallero, peleando por la fee, e por la verdad, e por la honra de su rey e reino, venció muchas batallas, e le fizo Dios grande e honrado, e fue muy tenido de sus comarcanos. Otrosí, tomen enxemplo del muy noble rey don Fernando el Casto, que peleando por la fee ganó a Córdova e a Sevilla, donde es santo non calonizado9. The Cid prefigured Pero Niño’s conduct in battle; he was another “buen cavallero” that “nunca fue vencido de sus enemigos, él ni gente suya.”10 This characteristic had already appeared in the *Gesta de las mocedades de Rodrigo prosified in the Crónica de Castilla, where Rodrigo is blessed by Saint Lazarus who, disguised as a leper, blows a puff or breathes on him a “ressollo” or “bafo” by which the Saint grants Rodrigo everlasting victory over his enemies: “ca tú 9 10 Díaz de Games, El Victorial, pp. 50-51. For more information about this passage, see Gómez Redondo, “El Cid humanístico”, pp. 329-30. Díaz de Games, El Victorial, pp. 61-62. The Cidian Matter in the 15th Century 469 nunca serás vençido, mas antes serás vençedor siempre”.11 In his knightly code, Díaz de Games described the harshness and rigors that a warrior must face during war, always uncertain, confronting situations with no easy solution, and all far-removed from the showy ostentation of the court. Similar ideas were expressed by Pero Ferruz in one of his well-known poems addressed to the chancellor Pero López de Ayala, who complained about the discomfort of camping in the mountains. Throughout the poem, memories of epic and chivalric heroes are evoked – such as Amadís de Gaula and the famous “ventiscas” (blizzards) that he survived – as an exemple of the efforts that warriors must make when faced with the most adverse circumstances, including the weather’s extreme bitterness. Rodrigo’s efforts were testimony of this: E si el muy loado Cid temiera los aguaduchos, non vençiera él tan muchos reyes e condes en lid, nin enguerreara a Valençia, do le dan con reverençia mayores parias que a Olid12. It must be noted how he takes the opportunity to evoke the Cid’s victory over rival counts – always the faction of Christian enemies – and over kings who can only be Moors. In verses with a similar rhyme scheme composed by Juan de Mena, who was always on the side of Álvaro de Luna, the image of Rodrigo Díaz that the poet recreates in the fourth stanza of the Laberinto is again intended to exalt the exploits of the Spanish knights while comparing them to the deeds carried out by heroes of antiquity: Como non creo que fuesen menores que los de Africano los fechos del Çid, nin que feroçes menos en la lid entrasen los nuestros que los agenores, las grandes fazañas de nuestros señores, la mucha constançia de quien los más ama 11 12 Rochwert-Zuili, Crónica de Castilla, p. 69b. About this episode, see Montaner Frutos, “Rodrigo y el gafo”, pp. 122-37. Cancionero de Juan Alfonso de Baena, p. 541, stanza 12 of “Dezir de Pero Ferruz a Pero López de Ayala”. 470 Gómez Redondo yaze en tiniebras, dormida su fama, dañada de olvido por falta de actores.13 Ignorance of Castile’s past is blamed either on the negligence of the chroniclers or on the lack of authors capable of articulating a heroic memory of those “grandes fazañas” that could be presented to contemporaries in an exemplary fashion. It is not surprising that this same notion appeared in the Crónica de don Álvaro de Luna linked to the geographical area where the Maestre’s bravery in battle was proved. In effect, it is not a coincidence that when in 1446 Álvaro de Luna laid siege to the town of Atienza, which was controlled by the Infante Juan’s faction, he referred to the exemplary exploits of the Cid: Aquel çerro llaman los de la tierra las Peñas de Ruy Díaz, que algunos dizen que le llaman assí porque el Cid Ruy Díaz, viniendo a çercar aquella villa e castillo, ovo tenido real en aquel çerro. E allí pareçió al Maestre que quedaría bien asentada aquella gente con aquellos caballeros, fasta en tanto que el Rey viniese.14 An entry in the Libro de las virtuosas e claras mugeres, written by Álvaro de Luna himself, confirms this model of chivalric behavior. In reference to the seven famous knights – not nine – appeared the figure of the Cid alongside that of Count Fernán González, the liberator of Castile: E comoquier que mucho sean de loar Éctor, el troyano, e Arquiles, el griego, e el grande Josué e el fuerte Sansón, e el religioso cavallero Judas Macabeo, e el conde don Fernand Gonçález, e el Çid Ruy Díaz, e otros muchos cavalleros que fueron muy valientes e esforçados e esmerados en el fecho de las armas […]15 2 Memory of Lineage Among the Nobility: The Connection with the Mendoza Family In the first half of the 15th century, two ideological orientations built upon the image of Rodrigo Díaz took hold among the nobility: the followers of Álvaro de Luna used the Cid – who had been elevated to the canon of famous knights – to reinforce royal authority; whereas the opposing faction that sought to 13 14 15 Juana de Mena, Laberinto de Fortuna y poemas. Crónica de don Álvaro de Luna, p. 185. Álvaro de Luna, Libro de las virtuosas e claras mugeres, p. 295. The Cidian Matter in the 15th Century 471 dispossess the king’s favorite of his excessive power looked at the Cid to uphold their inherited privileges they were unwilling to relinquish. One of the most active groups in the confrontation with Álvaro de Luna rallied around Bishop Gutierre Álvarez de Toledo, who went from Palencia to Seville, to be finally promoted to the see of Toledo in 1442. The prelate found support in his nephew Fernando Álvarez de Toledo, the first count of Alba de Tormes, who was related to Íñigo López de Mendoza and also to Fernán Pérez de Guzmán, the lord of Batres. In this active circle of aristocratic power, Pérez de Guzmán carried out one of the most important reconfigurations of Rodrigo Díaz’s image in his Loores de los claros varones de España, a work dedicated to his nephew of the same name and comendador mayor of Calatrava. Written in verse, it was meant to be a kind of treatise on doctrinal and military conduct, and it was based on a review of different political trends of the Castilian past. Its thematic choice has its beginning in the Crónica de Castilla, as can be seen in the part dedicated to Fernando the Great and the fratricidal wars.16 This rundown of the first Castilian kings ended with five stanzas dedicated to the Cid. His life story was set within the span of time that goes from the reigns of Fernando I to that of Alfonso VI, “padre e fijo” (217b),17 in order to emphasize his triumph over Moorish and Christian adversaries: “venció / tantas lides de paganos / con algunas de christianos” (217c-e), to the point that his heroic exploits merited to be compared to heroes of Antiquity: “que de laurel coronado, / pudiera aver trïunfado / en tiempo de los romanos” (217f-h). The lord of Batres aimed at presenting a model warrior who was capable of overcoming unavoidable adversities. For that reason, he only included information about the conquest of Valencia. Without narrating the reasons behind the Cid’s exile, the author emphasized the scarcity of resources available to him when he was forced to leave Castile: Asaz con poca potencia e andando desterrado, ganó con su principado la gran çibdad de Valencia. (218a-d) 16 17 According to Fernández Gallardo, “Cabría añadir el posible uso del Liber illustrium personarum de Gil de Zamora, pues la consideración de las series de los Alfonso regios podría estar inspirada en las series alfabéticas de esta obra” (“La biografía como memoria estamental”, p. 479). I quote the edition included in volume I of Foulché-Delbosc, Cancionero castellano del siglo XV. 472 Gómez Redondo Thus, the author outlined an image of the Cid that served as an example of the tenacity and effort with which a warrior can overcome any adversity that might impede his upward mobility in the ranks of the aristocracy. Pérez de Guzmán reluctantly compressed the actions Rodrigo took for governing and defending Valencia, which he claimed to know: “mi mano non escribió, / los reyes que allí venció” (218fg). He preferred to dedicate an octave to the first of the sequences from the *Estoria del Cid included in the Crónica de Castilla and attributed to “Gil Díaz su escribano” (219b) because in these Loores – like in the Mar de historias – religious and military references are interwoven. Even so, in accordance with the preface to his Generaciones, he points to its possible verisimilitude: “Si la istoria no mïente” (219a). In any case, the best indication of the majestic power achieved by this great warrior is confirmed by the embassy sent by the Persian sultan (219c), an event utilized to elevate the Cid to the category of ancient heroes: le envió un su pariente con tantas joyas e tales, que Roma en los sus anales registrara tal presente. (219e-h) As with other figures in the Generaciones, the last two stanzas of the Loores give an account of Rodrigo’s origins (220) and the genealogical lines that descend from him (221), linking them to the various lineages connected to the Cid as they had been elaborated in the chronicle tradition. Pérez de Guzmán describes the place and circumstances in which the Cid was born in order to better contrast his humble beginnings in Burgos with the court he established in Valencia where he died: “Este varón tan notable / en río de Nierva nasció, / e en Valencia fenesció” (230a-c). This enabled him to call attention to the glorious passing from being famous in life – always a fleeting condition (230g) – to the truly eternal life (“perdurable”) (230h), expressing the same ideas that Jorge Manrique elaborated in the coplas to his father years later. To culminate this small sample of Rodrigo’s famous deeds, the lord of Batres – always prone to furnish genealogical information – evoked the marriages of the Cid’s daughters to the Infantes “de Navarra e de Aragón” (231f), noting that both became “reinas coronadas” (231e), according to the tradition originating from the Poema de mio Cid. The author concluded his description of the hero’s deeds on a positive note with a reference to the paradigm of the illustrious Romans: “fueron las d’este varón / fortunas muy prosperadas” (231g-h). It is significant that the kings of Castile’s historical account would end with this biographical sketch of Rodrigo Díaz, considering that what followed dealt The Cidian Matter in the 15th Century 473 with the kings of Aragon. The handling of sources available to Pérez de Guzmán is complex and can only be reconstructed using the list of works of his personal library. In the inventory of the Toledo manuscript appears a “libro del Cid Ruy Díaz”, which probably refers to a testimony of the Crónica de Castilla.18 It is to this work that the author refers when in the Generaciones he establishes the ancestral origins of the Mendoza family in the biographical sketch dedicated to Admiral Diego Hurtado de Mendoza, Íñigo López de Mendoza’s father: El solar de Mendoça es en Álava, antiguo e grande linaje. A algunos oí dizir que vienen del Çid Ruy Díaz, mas yo non lo leí. Acuérdome enpero aver leído en aquella corónica de Castilla que fabla de los fechos del Çid que la reina doña Urraca, fija del rey don Alfonso que ganó a Toledo, fue casada con el conde don Remón de Tolosa, del cual ovo fijo al enperador don Alonso […]19 According to oral tradition, a story that circulated toward the middle of the 15th century had the Mendoza family descend from the Cid. Pérez de Guzmán mentions this as a possibility in contrast with the historiographical information included in the Crónica de Castilla where, as it has already been noted, episodes about Fernando I are interwoven with those of the Cid throughout the prosification of the *Gesta de las Mocedades. Although doubtful, the genealogical reference was essential in order to defend ancestral rights that were being challenged by the royal curia.20 The evocation of this genealogical relationship acquired its full understanding in two elegies dedicated to Íñigo López de Mendoza, Marquis of Santillana. The first was composed by Diego de Burgos around 1458, and the second by Gómez Manrique, the Marquis of Santillana’s 18 19 20 See Vaquero, Cultura nobiliaria, p. 28. Vaquero points out “la existencia de este libro en 1463, si es que se trata de una crónica del Cid desgajada de la Crónica de Castilla – como la llamada Crónica particular del Cid, que publicó fray Juan de Velorado a cargo del monasterio de San Pedro de Cardeña en 1512 –, indica que el héroe épico retorna a ser un modelo importante en la conciencia nobiliaria castellana ya probablemente desde mediados del siglo xv, cuando el señor de Batres vivía retirado de la vida política y dedicado de pleno al estudio” (p. 44). The “libro del Cid Ruy Díaz” is not necessarily a section taken from the Crónica de Castilla given that the complete work also went by the title of Crónica o Romanz del Cid e de los reyes de Castilla; see Solera López, “El manuscrito D de la Crónica de Castilla”. Pérez de Guzmán, Generaciones y semblanzas, pp. 99-100. Regarding this passage, see Montaner, “La enseña del Cid”, p. 48. For more information about this process, see Beceiro Pita, “La conciencia de los antepasados”. 474 Gómez Redondo nephew. Diego de Burgos, who was the Marquis’ secretary, wrote an extensive poem of 228 stanzas of arte mayor entitled Triunfo del Marqués.21 It is an allegorical vision that brings together the memory of heroes from different genres and traditions. Dante guides the poet, describing the figures of the past and present that appear before them. What is remarkable is the joint presentation of Fernán González and the Cid. The poet points out that Fernán González had not been rendered sufficient honor “por falta de pluma latina elocuente” (89d), and recalls the Cid’s victories in battle as well as his heroic nature: El ínclito Cid, jamás no vencido, gran ánimo noble do son los mejores, verás cual está con gozo infinido por ver al Marqués tan dino de onores. (90a-d) Diego de Burgos then reveals the genealogical relationship between the Cid and the Marquis of Santillana, and how pleased Rodrigo is on seeing that his descendant incarnate his values. The author concludes by alluding to a nowlost poem written by the Marquis that praised his illustrious ancestor:22 ca viene sin duda con los sus mayores del mismo linaje qu’el Çid deçendía, por esto el Marqués en metro escrivía su estoria muy llena de altos loores. (90e-h) Another illustrious ancestor of the Marquis of Santillana – and in this case a real one – was Gonzalo Ruiz de la Vega, to whom the victory in the Battle of the River Salado (1340) was attributed. The introduction of these two warriors seems appropriate, for both are made to appear praising Íñigo López de Mendoza in the two successive octaves. In any case, this attempt to provide a heroic figure connected to Castile with a voice so he can describe how the Marquis of 21 22 See the study and edition prepared by Moreno Hernández, Retórica y humanismo: El Triunfo del Marqués de Santillana (1458). It is not possible to identify the poem that Íñigo López de Mendoza dedicated to his alleged ancestor. However, the compositional process is described in stanza 156 of the Triunfo: “La çítara dulçe que Orfeo tañía / […] / el dino marqués la puso encordada / en tenple süave cual era primero / cantava con ella del buen cavallero / por quien fue Valençia de moros ganada”. The Cidian Matter in the 15th Century 475 Santillana achieved knightly perfection – in line with the Cid’s heroic model – is crucial. In stanza 203, the Cid confirms this: Triunfo de toda la cavallería, insigne Marqués, a quien mucho devo, muy bien por pariente loar te podría, pero en otra cosa más justa me atrevo. Tus altas proezas por donde me muevo dan a Castilla muy gran resplandor; quitóse contienda de quién fue mejor, después que naçiste con todos lo pruevo. Rodrigo himself recognizes that his glory is remembered thanks to the exploits achieved by such a famous successor, thus preserving the prestige of his lineage and resolving any conflict that may have been sparked when comparing the heroic conduct of both of them. The intertwined images of these encomiastic poems are intimately connected to chivalric narratives when considering the deeds of ancient heroes, whether from chivalric novels or from the Castilian epic. These images converged in the biographies that were printed at the end of the century, which will be discussed in the pages ahead. Gómez Manrique bids his dead uncle farewell with more complex allegorical images in the “Planto de las Virtudes e Poesía por el magnífico señor don Íñigo López de Mendoça” (1458). This poem is of special interest because it was sent to one of the Marquis’ sons, Pedro González de Mendoza. At that time, he was bishop of Calahorra and a soon-to-be intermediary of a well-intentioned legend of the Cid, as we shall soon see. Imitating the Marquis’ Comedieta de Ponza, Gómez Manrique describes how he enters a valley where a fortress had been built. Inside, he finds seated in a hall the seven virtues surrounding the Marquis’ coffin. They are holding shields whose arms the poet describes as representing “los cuatro costados” – that is to say, the genealogical lines of his paternal and maternal grandparents –, and he begins with the one that establishes the Marquis’ parentage with the Cid: La primera bien pintada de verde me pareçía, por esquina travesada una vanda colorada según el Çid la traía.23 23 Gómez Manrique, “El planto de las Virtudes”, in Cancionero, p. 384. 476 Gómez Redondo This heraldic description corresponds to the earliest arms of the Mendoza family: on a green field, a red bend. His retrospective attribution to the Cid’s coat of arms from that moment took hold on people’s imaginations.24 In the last decade of the 15th century, it is reproduced by Diego Hernández de Mendoza in his Libro de armerías. Following the *Gesta de las Mocedades that was prosified at the beginning of the Crónica de Castilla, he included a chapter where he speaks about the ancestral connections linking the Mendoza’s, not to the Cid himself, but to one of his uncles: Del linaje del buen Çid Ruy Díaz vienen los de Mendoça, lo qual, segund escrive el coronista del rey don Hernando, que juntó los reynos de Castilla y León, que fue d’esta manera: Laín Calvo, que fue uno de los dos juezes de Castilla que los castellanos hizieron entre sí, casó con doña Elvira Núñez, hija de Nuño Rasuera, que era el otro juez, do deçendieron los condes de Castilla. Ovo d’ella quatro hijos: al mayor dixeron Fraín Laínez, el que desuso es dicho; al segundo dixeron Laín Laínez, y d’este desçendieron los de Mendoça, y al terçero dixeron Ruy Laínez, y al quarto dixeron Nuño Laínez. Éste ovo un hijo que dixeron Diego Laínez, que fue padre del Çid Ruy Díaz.25 After describing the Cid’s genealogical connection to the Mendoza family, he elaborated upon their arms: Éstos de Mendoça traen tres maneras de armas tan diferentes las unas de las otras, que en nada no se pareçen, de las cuales escriviré lo que d’ello pude deprender. Si por ventura no llevare la vía derecha, aquel que d’ello más sabe tome la pluma en la mano y tieste o emiende lo que fuese errado. Los Mendoças que agora poseen la casa de Mendoça, que es en la montaña en tierra de Álava, traen las derechas armas del Çid, que es una vanda colorada con unos bordes de oro enderredor de la vanda. Lo cual se toma d’esta manera: qu’el Çid derramava la sangre de los moros bermeja 24 25 See Montaner, “La enseña del Cid”, pp. 48-51, and Cantar de mio Cid, pp. 725-26; Solera, “El manuscrito D”, pp. 86-93; García López and Montaner, “El estandarte cidiano de Vivar”, pp. 521-26. Hernández de Mendoza, Libro de armería, in Valverde Ogallar, Manuscritos y heráldica en el tránsito a la modernidad, pp. 968-69. The editor erroneously identifies the source of this passage as the Crónica del rey Fernando III (ibid., note 1697), where such information is not included. It is clearly an allusion to Fernando I and the Crónica de Castilla, whose text Hernández de Mendoza followed nearly to the letter (see Rochwert-Zuili, Crónica de Castilla, p. 66a). The Cidian Matter in the 15th Century 477 en el canpo que era verde. La cual casa es por derecha subçesión en poder del duque del Infantadgo y marqués de Santillana y conde del Real.26 Unlike the description that Gómez Manrique offered, Hernández de Mendoza described the arms of the house of his time: in order to avoid putting color on color, to the red bend he adds a trim of gold. In addition, he made use of an etiological legend that, like this heraldic attribution, proved to be successful in later historiography. Thus, the genealogy of the Mendoza family constructed in the mid-15th century and disseminated in two elegies – composed after Íñigo López de Mendoza’s death – acquires authenticity in the Libro de armerías, once again supported by the narrative in the Crónica de Castilla which, as usual, strengthened the argument for the affirmation of the principal Castilian lineages thanks to its skillful integration of epic materials.27 4 The Reign of Enrique IV: Heroic Ambiguities From the very beginning, Enrique IV’s reign saw a worsening of tensions between the court and factions of the nobility, who were subjected to the will of Juan II’s favorite, Juan Pacheco, the first Marquis of Villena, and the king’s regent, Alonso Carrillo, archbishop of Toledo. Under these circumstances, the image of the Cid continued to be crucial in the defense of both the crown and the rights of the aristocracy. Enrique IV showed little interest in learned matters, preferring music and hunting, as well as constructing palaces and sumptuous chambers. It is to this king that one must attribute the decision to include statues of Fernán González and the Cid in the gallery of royal figures that he commissioned to decorate the salón de reyes at the alcázar in Segovia. Diego de Valera, in his Memorial de diversas hazañas, points to this initiative to show the king’s patronage of artistic activity: E fortificó maravillosamente el alcáçar, e hizo ençima de la puerta d’él una muy alta torre, labrada de maçonería y, en el corredor que se llama en aquel alcáçar «de los cordones», mandó poner todos los reyes que en Castilla y en León han seído después de la destruiçión de España, començando de don Pelayo fasta él; e mandó poner con ellos al Cid e al conde 26 27 Hernández de Mendoza, Libro de armería, in Valverde Ogallar, Manuscritos y heráldica en el tránsito a la modernidad, p. 969. Regarding the differences on how these arms are represented, see Faustino Menéndez Pidal de Navascués, “Las armas de los Mendoza”. See Nieto Soria, “Conflicto político e invención histórica”. 478 Gómez Redondo Fernán Gonçález, por ser caballeros tan nobles e que tan grandes cosas hizieron. Todos en grandes estatuas, labradas muy sutilmente, de maderas cubiertas de oro e plata. (p. 294) The genealogical foundation of the Jueces de Castilla was made to support Castile’s royal successions framed within the heroism of these two warriors who put their virtues at the service of the royal power’s consolidation, an objective too difficult to achieve during the controversial reign of Enrique IV, as shown by the contrasting views of the summaries of two chronicles. 4.1 Harmony between Royal Authority and Power of the Nobility Given his loyalty to the crown, the story about the Cid that Pedro de Escavias incorporated into his Repertorio de Príncipes reveals the tension between his desire to protect nobiliary privileges without harming the royal authority. Escavias retained the materials from the Crónica de Castilla, as found in the Crónica de 1344, and complementary information from Juan Gil de Zamora’s De preconiis Hispaniae. These sources were combined between 1467 and 1470 during the second decade of King Enrique IV’s reign, corresponding to the period of his “adversidades”. In this context, Rodrigo’s military actions took on a new meaning, most significantly, the way he helped his monarch liberate Castile from the imperial tribute: Después d’esto, ovo el Çid otra batalla con todo el mayor poder de Françia e vençióles, sin que ninguna d’estas batallas el rey don Fernando ni sus gentes llegasen. E como todos ivan fuyendo delante del Çid, e llegaron las nuevas al conçilio, e suplicaron al papa que enbiase a mandar al rey don Fernando que se tornase, ca non quería su tributo. E cuando el rey don Fernando lo oyó, con consejo del Çid, enbió al papa al conde don Rodrigo e a don Álvar Áñez e algunos letrados, con los cuales le escrivió que le enbiase un cardenal con su poder bastante el enperador y rey de Françia y los otros reyes, para que podiesen otorgar e afirmar que nunca jamás tal demanda fuese a España movida so muy grandes penas e, si no lo quisiesen fazer, que él los iría todavía a buscar, e que no se partería de allende de Tolosa fasta saber su respuesta.28 Rodrigo’s assistance to a king is seen again during the second fratricidal war, when Sancho II is rescued thanks to the Cid’s bravery (chap. 122). It is an episode that contrasts with the Cid’s exile ordered by Alfonso VI as a result of the 28 Pedro de Escavias, Repertorio de Príncipes, p. 191. The Cidian Matter in the 15th Century 479 slander of counts and ricoshombres surrounding the king (chap. 123). The climate of hostility towards Juan II of Aragon may explain why the Cid’s campaign in Aragonese territory and the Count of Barcelona’s defeats – for example, in the battle of Tévar – are described with such harshness: E porque el Çid llevaba una gran cavalgada de tierra del rey Albenalfange, el conde don Reimondo y él, e con muy grande gente de cristianos e moros, çerca de Tovar de Pinar, ovieron una batalla en la cual el Çid topó con el conde. E tan gran ferida con su lança le dio, que lo derribó medio muerto en tierra donde fue luego preso, e todos los suyos e los moros vençidos e desbaratados. E el Çid e los suyos fueron en alcançe tras ellos çinco o seis leguas do mataron e prendieron muchos moros e cristianos asaz. E tornaron al canpo e cogiéronlo, do avía tantas y tan grandes riquezas que no es cosa de poderse creer. El Çid ganó estonçes la su espada Colada que el conde traía.29 In the mid-15th century, Rodrigo is also transformed into a champion of ancestral rights. To this end, the origin of royal dynasties descended from the Cid are recalled at the beginning of Sancho IiI’s reign: “Este rey don Sancho, en vida de su padre, casó con doña Blanca, fija del rey don Garçía de Navarra, nieto del buen Çid, ansí que ella era viznieta, en la cual ovo un fijo que don Alfonso llamaron”.30 This same connection will acquire its full meaning in a vindicatory historiographical text, the Crónica de los reyes de Navarra, written by Prince Carlos de Viana. The author refuted an erroneous Castilian tradition by affirming that Pedro I of Aragon and Navarre was not the Cid’s enemy, but rather, helped him conquer Peña Cadiella: No solamente fue valiente caballero ni se contentó de sola su virtud mas, assí como fue por ella amado, amó a los que posseían aquella mesma virtud; e por ende, recebió al Cid Ruy Díez en su comienda, e le prometió de ayudar cuando lo hubiesse menester, ca, en aquel tiempo, el Cid hera airado del rey don Alfonso de Castilla porque tomó el juramento cuoal ninguno de Castilla no osó tomar del dicho rey por saber si avía seído en consejo de la muerte de su hermano el rey don Sancho, el cuoal mató Adolsi en Çamora.31 29 30 31 Pedro de Escavias, Repertorio de Príncipes, pp. 201-02. Pedro de Escavias, Repertorio de Príncipes, p. 222. Carlos de Viana, Crónica de los Reyes de Navarra, p. 131. 480 Gómez Redondo In addition to establishing Rodrigo Díaz’s alliance with Pedro I,32 Carlos de Viana also underscored the role that Navarre and Aragon played in the campaigns that the Cid carried out during his exile and, in particular, in the conquest of Valencia: “con ayuda del dicho rey don Pedro de Nabarra e de Aragón e de don Pero Ruyz de Açagra, señor de Albarracín, el dicho Cid prendió a Valencia”.33 He made clear, of course, that it was Pedro I who helped Rodrigo in the Battle of Bairén in 1097 – historically documented – against “Avobucar” (Bucar in the Poema de mio Cid), whom the Cid killed in addition to another fifty thousand enemies. In Carlos de Viana’s compilation, the alliance forged between the crown – in this case represented by Pedro I – and the military order, which is represented by Rodrigo’s heroic performance in battle, continues to be effective. 4.2 Defense of Aristocratic Rights Between 1471 and 1476, Lope García de Salazar – who was imprisoned by his son in a tower in San Martín de Muñatones – gave the Cidian material a new slant. During his lifetime, this contentious nobleman from Biscay was involved in several litigations – either with other noble families from the area or with the monarch – culminating in disputes with members of his own family. He passed his time in prison by compiling an extensive Historia de las bienandanzas e fortunas in which he included all types of stories. When writing about the “fechos de España”, he resorted to the Cidian materials from the Crónica de Castilla and the Crónica de 1344, even though some have assumed that certain conflicting details may have derived from an oral version of the Mocedades de Rodrigo that was still circulating at the time.34 The Cid’s story was fully elaborated in Book XV, where García de Salazar utilized all the available references about Rodrigo to justify the prominence he granted him: “E agora dexa el cuento d’esto e torna a contar de los fechos del noble cavallero Ruy Díaz, el Çid, de Vibar, porque perteneçe entrar en el reinamiento d’estos dichos reyes e reinos”.35 García de Salazar views the Cid’s figure 32 33 34 35 In fact, the author notes that after the Cid was banished from Castile, he went to Pedro I’s court: “e por esto lo airó e vénose poner so amparo del rey don Pedro” (Carlos de Viana, Crónica de los Reyes de Navarra, p. 131). Carlos de Viana, Crónica de los Reyes de Navarra, p. 131 See Armistead, “Las Mocedades de Rodrigo según Lope García de Salazar”, who believes that the historian relied on a reelaborated version of the Mocedades. Diego Catalán’s opinion is more nuanced; see La épica española, pp. 358-65. Another possibility is that García de Salazar knew a manuscript like BnF Esp. 36 (cited above), which includes both the Crónica de Castilla and the reelaborated version of the Mocedades. García de Salazar, Bienandanzas e fortunas, fol. 259v. The Cidian Matter in the 15th Century 481 as a key to understanding what was happening to him, placing special value on Rodrigo’s status as a nobleman, as demonstrated by the fact that he assigns to the hero a specific title when referring to his “linaje e grandes fechos”. García de Salazar returns to the legend of the Jueces de Castilla to begin once again the Cid’s lineage with Laín Calvo and assert the relationship of his blood line to the king, recalling that Rodrigo’s mother, Doña Teresa, “era nieta del rey de León, fija de su fija vastarda” (fol. 260r). When Rodrigo was still a “grande mançebo” (fol. 260r), he began his long heroic career, which García de Salazar must abbreviate in a special section of his work: fizo los grandes fechos que se cuentan por todos los reinos, que no se falla omne que tantas batallas vençiese en canpo como él. E por eso fue llamado Çid Canpeador e dezirlas he aquí en breve por no alargar escritura, e así mesmo sus nobles fechos sumariamente. (fol. 260r) This statement was followed by the section “Título de las vatallas que vençió el buen Çid e de sus causas”, written as a treatise on military doctrine similar to that of a later historian, Diego Rodríguez de Almela, who recorded fourteen of the Cid’s battles in his Batallas campales.36 García de Salazar, however, recounted twenty-one of Rodrigo’s battles, beginning with the first one when he was twenty years old near the “río de Ovierna” against Count Gómez de Gormaz, until the twenty-first, the “batalla del Quarto” or Cuarte, in which the Cid defended Valencia from Bucar’s forces. After narrating the “Afrenta de Corpes” and the outcome of the “Cortes de Toledo”, the list culminated in the famous post mortem victory of Rodrigo over Bucar during his second attack on Valencia, followed by the miracles associated with his tomb at the Monastery of Cardeña. The details of the Cid’s life were based on “las sus istorias e de los reyes don Ferrando e don Sancho e don Alonso, sus fijos” (fol. 268r), that is to say, on the Crónica de Castilla that García de Salazar summarized except for one remarkable detail: the embassy of the soldán, or sultan from Persia, sent to Valencia to dissuade the Cid from participating in the military actions that were being organized overseas. García de Salazar added the following explanation: E ésta era la verdad. Pero çiertamente el Çid fuera de buenamente en aquella cruzada, sino que tenía asaz guerra con toda la morería de Granada e de allende la mar e yazía en aquella çibdad de Valençia, que estava metida en medio d’ellos; e por esto no fue ninguno d’España, que 36 The battles are 121-23, 125, 127-28, 130-32, 137-41 (fols. C4v-C6r). 482 Gómez Redondo tenían asaz que fazer en las continas guerras que cada día les recreçían. (fol. 263v) Once again, what becomes evident is the dualistic interpretation derived from the Crónica de Castilla, mirroring the tensions that were sparked throughout the reign of Enrique IV, even though García de Salazar underscored the final alliance between King Alfonso and his best vassal brought about by Rodrigo’s military enterprises – thus the meticulous enumeration of his battles – but also by the cowardice of his enemies. 5 The Reign of the Catholic Monarchs: A New Chivalric Order From the War of Castilian Succession (1475-79) emerged a new chivalric order that would unfold in the military operations that, over the course of a decade, led to the conquest of Granada. In both conflicts, two famous warriors and an illustrious bastard will be compared to the Cid, whose heroic image would prompt imitation, first in the defense of Isabel’s rights and then again during the campaigns against the Moors. 5.1 The Image of the “Segundo Cid”: 15th-Century Rodrigos After the death of Juan Pacheco in 1474, the Count of Paredes de Nava and Maestre of Santiago, Rodrigo Manrique, was the first nobleman whose values were likened to those of the Cid. It was Rodrigo Manrique’s brother, Gómez Manrique, who coined the expression “segundo Cid” in his “Defunsión del noble cavallero Garçía Laso de la Vega”, a poem dedicated to the Marquis of Santillana’s nephew. In the series of elegiac poems we have already analyzed, the Marquis of Santillana was believed to be a descendent of the Cid; this ancestral reference, associated with the Álvarez de Toledo and the Mendoza families, is now made to extend to the Manrique line. Having the same first name favored the assimilation of both knights as seen in the description of Garçía Laso de la Vega’s investiture by Rodrigo Manrique: En aqueste mesmo lugar dond’está lo armó cavallero en una gran lid Rodrigo Manrique, el segundo Çid, a quien de su muerte mucho pesará. (69-72)37 37 Gómez Manrique, “Defunsión del noble cavallero Garçía Laso de la Vega”, in Cancionero, p. 352. The Cidian Matter in the 15th Century 483 This image must have seemed appropriate to Gómez Manrique since he used it again in an encomiastic poem comprised of nine verses that he sent to his brother: Devos el Señor del mundo, tantos bienes tenporales, cuantos á dado de males e trabajos desiguales a vós, el buen Çid segundo. E depués dé larga vida, bien e con plazer gastada, Él vos dé la fin onrada e con sus santos cabida. (10-18)38 In a work that should be included in this group of occasional poems, Gómez Manrique compares his brother to the most important warriors from antiquity – both Trojans and Romans – as well as to a hero from his homeland, Rodrigo Díaz: Para Castilla Camilo, otro Çid contra Granada, en la cual es vuestra espada tanto temida e loada e más que la de Troïlo. (21-25)39 Besides referencing the war with Granada that occurred during the reign of Juan II – notably, the capture of Huéscar in 1434 – Gómez Manrique anticipated here a gallery of paradigms from antiquity that his nephew Jorge Manrique later developed in stanzas 27 and 28 of the poem dedicated to his father, Rodrigo Manrique, upon his death in 1476. Although the Count of Paredes would not live to participate in the campaigns against Granada that began in 1482, he had been one of the early supporters of Princess Isabel after the unexpected death of Prince Alfonso in July 1468, who had been recognized to succeed Enrique IV by many aristocrats and prelates of the kingdom. This is the opposite of what happened to the 38 39 Gómez Manrique, “Estrenas al señor conde de Paredes, su hermano”, in Cancionero, p. 300. Gómez Manrique, “Aguilando al señor conde de Paredes, su hermano”, in Cancionero, p. 308. 484 Gómez Redondo Marquis of Cádiz Rodrigo Ponce de León, who was also called “segundo Cid”. During the Castilian War of Succession, Ponce de León, being a relative of Juan Pacheco, was a supporter of Princess Juana and Alfonso V of Portugal. Years later, he would receive Isabel’s pardon and distinguish himself for his singular exploits during the long conflict with Granada, such as the conquest of Alhama in 1482. Related to this nobleman, many authors of the time elaborated a calculated image of the Cid, beginning with Diego de Valera, who saw in Ponce de León the achievements peculiar to epic heroes: Pues de vós, señor, ¿qué se espera salvo que seréis otro Cid en nuestros tienpos nacido? Que si aquel tan estrenuo y escogido varón ganó a Valencia, cobróla después de averla tenido cercada por espacio de diez meses […] e vós, señor, apenas vos eran las barbas nascidas, cuando todo temor olvidado sin tal certidunbre tener […] tomastes la famosa cibdad de Alhama, siendo tan lexos de vuestra tierra e metida en medio de sus defensores e tanto cercana a la muy poderosa cibdad de Granada.40 Similarly, in a funerary eulogy included in his Memorias, Andrés Bernáldez compared Ponce de León – who died soon after the capture of Granada in 1492 – both to the greatest heroes from the Trojan legend and to the Cid.41 However, it is in the Marquis of Cádiz’s anonymous biography where references to the Cid’s image reached its apogee.42 It began in the prologue with a new catalogue of worthy men and continued with a series of exploits seemingly modeled on those achieved by epic heroes. Specific episodes were evoked to reinforce the military spirit the Catholic Monarchs were fostering among the new cavalry that emerged from the war with the Moors. The religious spirit that guided Rodrigo Díaz during his most important military campaigns is also present in the representation of the Marquis of Cádiz, resulting in his canonization by a process similar to the one the Cid underwent in the Leyenda de Cardeña.43 The following passage is only a sample of this religious fervor: Y sus grandes y famosas virtudes me dieron cabsa aver de dezir y recontar de los fechos virtuosos d’este tan noble y tan esforçado cavallero, 40 41 42 43 Diego de Valera, Tratado de las epístolas, XVII, p. 22b. Andrés Bernáldez, Memorias del reinado de los Reyes Católicos, p. 238. See MacKay, “Un Cid Ruy Díaz en el siglo XV”, who argues that the Poema de mio Cid inspired this series of images. However, as we have already seen, it derives from the Crónica de Castilla, which was a source of the Crónica de 1344. For more details, see Gómez Redondo, “El Cid humanístico”, pp. 332-35. The Cidian Matter in the 15th Century 485 segund más largamente por su estoria adelante pareçerá. Y así podemos bien dezir por el marqués de Cádiz, el segundo y buen conde Fernand Gonçález, y segundo y santísimo cavallero Çid Ruy Díaz, pues que averiguadamente y fablando toda la verdad, tan nobles y tan esforçadas cosas d’él podemos contar, de sus grandes victorias y vençimientos que en los moros fizo, favoreçiendo y ensalçando la santa fe católica.44 5.2 Legitimization of a Lineage: The Cidian Imaginary There were not only “Segundos cides” on the battlefield, like Rodrigo Manrique or Rodrigo Ponce de León, favored by onomastic similarities. The same imaginary made up of heroic references that was so closely linked to the Mendoza family also prompted the conceptualization of a “primer Cid” (first Cid). Its objective was to legitimize the sacrilegious line of the bastard Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar y Mendoza,45 born in 1468 from the love relation that the prelate Pedro González de Mendoza had with Doña Mencía de Lemos, one of the ten Portuguese ladies who traveled to Castile in Juana of Portugal’s entourage on the occasion of her marriage to Enrique IV in 1455. Pedro González de Mendoza – who was, at the time, bishop of Sigüenza and who was later named gran cardenal of Spain in 1474 – had learned the value of establishing genealogical connections with vindicatory purposes, as we have seen around the Álvarez de Toledo family. In 1442, the first Marquis of Santillana, Pedro González de Mendoza’s father, sent him to complete his education with Archbishop Gutierre Díaz de Toledo, with whom he remained until 1445. It was possibly during that time when he first heard of the oral traditions that Pérez de Guzmán was gathering to incorporate into his Generaciones, which spoke of the family’s origin dating back to the Cid. At best, it was a possibility that, as we have seen, Gómez Manrique’s assertion transformed into a fact in his “Planto” (1458) for the death of the Marquis of Santillana, which was sent to his son, Pedro González de Mendoza. Therefore, it is not coincidental that he named his eldest son Rodrigo. By 1488, he had assembled a large landed estate in order to establish a mayorazgo (an entailed estate) for his son Rodrigo. As of November 1489, it included the town of Jadraque and its castle that is 44 45 Historia de los hechos del marqués de Cádiz, p. 145. The best study about Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar y Mendoza is included in Gómez Lorente, El marquesado de Cenete (1490-1523), pp. 50-135; for his date of birth, see p. 87. About his legacy, see Nader, Los Mendoza y el Renacimiento español, p. 152; and Fernández Madrid, “Una familia de mecenas”, p. 117. 486 Gómez Redondo known today as “del Cid”.46 This is how Pedro González de Mendoza began to create the heroic model that his son would emulate, precisely at the time when a new cavalry that would carry the weight of Granada’s war against the Moors began to take shape. As early as 1489, Hernando de Pulgar recorded the presence of this young knight, accompanied by his uncle, leading his father’s men: “de los cuales ivan por capitanes don Rodrigo de Mendoça, señor del Çid, e don Furtado de Mendoça, adelantado de Caçorla”.47 By distinguishing him in this campaign, the cardinal’s son underwent the same process of glorification bestowed earlier on the Marquis of Cádiz: the chronicler emphasized specific aspects of his knightly conduct to configure a new heroic archetype that would best define the new cavalry that had emerged from the Castilian War of Succession. The court supported these novice knights and tried to join them in a bond with similar ancestral clans in order to weave a web of nobiliary relationships that was in tune with the interests of the monarchy. This is what happened with Rodrigo de Mendoza’s first marriage, although not with his second. A record of these events is registered by Pedro González de Mendoza’s genealogists and biographers in the second half of the 16th century. In his Suma de la vida del cardenal don Pedro Gonçález de Mendoza, Francisco Medina de Mendoza enumerated the military exploits Rodrigo de Mendoza achieved during the war with Granada that were later rewarded with a brilliant career at the court. In his Batallas, Fernández de Oviedo also gave an account of these ancestral connections in an epigraph whose title is undeniably connected to the Cid: “El muy illustre don Rodrigo de Bivar e Mendoça, Marqués del Zenete e Marqués de Ayora e Conde del Çid”.48 The man who was simply known as Rodrigo de Mendoza49 became Rodrigo de Vivar y Mendoza in legal documents pertaining to a case that surely benefited from such a heroic association.50 Somewhat later he evolved into Rodrigo 46 47 48 49 50 For more information about this mayorazgo and the donations that were used to found it, see Villalba Ruiz de Toledo, El Cardenal Mendoza (1428), pp. 222-28; and Gómez Lorente, El marquesado de Cenete (1490-1523), pp. 136-222. Hernando de Pulgar, Crónica de los Reyes Católicos, vol. 2, p. 364. Gonzalo Fernández de Oviedo, Batallas y quinquagenas, ed. Avalle-Arce, p. 396. See Pulgar’s Crónica, Medina’s Suma, and Santa Cruz’s Crónica de los Reyes Católicos, X and XLV, ed. Mata Carriazo, pp. 76 and 194, as well as his Crónica del Emperador Carlos V. In Bernáldez’s Memorias there is not one allusion to Rodrigo de Mendoza. See, for example, “Provisión real recaída en el pleito entre el duque de Nájera, Pedro Manrique y el marqués del Cenete, Rodrigo de Vivar de Mendoza sobre el derecho a Ayora” dated 3 October 1500 (Archivo Histórico Nacional, Sección Nobleza, Osuna, C. 1932, D.4) or the “Ejecutoria del pleito litigado por Bernardino Juárez de Mendoza, conde de Coruña, The Cidian Matter in the 15th Century 487 Díaz de Vivar y Mendoza, but only in the biography that his great-great-grandson Pedro de Salazar y de Mendoza dedicated to him, which explains why his Crónica of 1625 is addressed to the “Duque del Infantado, don Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar, de Mendoça, de la Vega, y de Luna, conde del Cid”. Regarding the origin of the lineage, the author stated that it was believed that he descended from “los juezes de Castilla Nuño Núñez Rasuera, y Laín Calvo, de quien procedió el Cid Ruy Díaz de Vibar”, a conviction that “siguió el Cardenal, y assí en memoria del Cid, llamó Rodrigo de Vibar al Marqués de el Cenete y el Castillo del Cid, al de Jadraque”.51 The progressive acquisition of the epic hero’s last names,52 and with them his heroic attributes, forged an identity that the heirs of the Infantado received after their union with the House of Cenete.53 In sum, the deeply rooted connection between the Mendoza family and the figure of the Cid that Pérez de Guzmán portrayed in his Generaciones from sources transmitted by the oral tradition is taken in elegies dedicated to the Marquis of Santillana as proof of his lineage’s nobility, since in one of the poems, as we have seen, the Cid himself identifies the Marquis as his most 51 52 53 con Rodrigo de Bivar, marqués de Cenete, sobre devolución de ciertas alhahas”, dated 30 January 1502 (Archivo de la Real Chancillería de Valladolid, Registro de Ejecutorias, Caja 166,19). However, in the Portal de Archivos Españoles (URL: <http://pares.mcu.es/>), the name Rodrigo de Mendoza predominates from 1480 to 1550, even in an announcement for a joust by Diego de Paredes dated 1517. Regarding the chronicle, the epic last name is only mentioned in Continuación anónima de la Crónica de Pulgar – compiled possibly before 1515 – whose manuscripts are dated after that year. For example, ms. BNE 10240 mentions the handing over to “don Rodrigo de Mendoza e de Bivar, hijo del cardenal don Pero González de Mendoza, de las villas de Zenete e Guadix, que son siete, con título de marqués de Zenete” (Crónicas de los Reyes de Castilla, ed. Rosell, vol. 3, p. 513a). The epic last name is not found in Galíndez de Carvajal’s Anales breves – “hicieron los reyes merced del Cenete a D. Rodrigo de Mendoza” (ibid., p. 546b) – nor is it found when the author refers to his two marriages (ibid., pp. 549b-550a). Pedro de Salazar y de Mendoza, Crónica de el Gran Cardenal de España, vol.1.2, p. 24a. It cannot be assumed that Rodrigo was given the last name “de Vivar” at birth, as Gómez Lorente states without proof: “El primogénito de todos ellos era don Rodrigo de Vivar y Mendoza, como a su padre le gustaba llamar” (El marquesado de Cenete, p. 82). Francisco Layna Serrano also states: “El hijo mayor se llamó Rodrigo de Vivar y Mendoza, añadiéndole su padre el sobrenombre Vivar pues pretendía descender por línea derecha del Cid Ruy Díaz” (Historia de Guadalajara y sus Mendozas, vol. 2, p. 245). Nader underscores the importance of this marriage: “De este modo, volvieron a unirse las dos ramas de la familia, y desde entonces han formado una sola casa. Los Cenete, rama de los Mendoza instalada en Granada, desempeñaron un papel espectacular, pero errático en la vida política y artística durante el reinado de los Monarcas Católicos. Cenete no dejó herederos varones; sus sucesores pasaron a incorporarse a los dominios y títulos de la casa del Infantado” (Los Mendoza, p. 152). 488 Gómez Redondo important successor. At the end of the century, this supposed relationship became crucial evidence in the process of legitimization and inheritance that Pedro González de Mendoza prepared for the sons he had with Doña Mencía de Lemos. With these genealogical connections, his eldest son, Rodrigo, will be transformed into a “primer Cid” or a Cid reborn, with proven exploits in the war against Granada and two advantageous marriages, the second of which was turbulent. These weddings enabled the Cidian myth that Rodrigo inherited to be passed on to the Infantado through the succession of his second daughter, Doña María. In turn, the union of the Infantado with the House of Cenete reinforced this fabulous connection that was based on epic legends and the affirmation of the lineage’s nobility.54 In his Historia parthenopea, the Sevillian canon Alfonso Fernández compared the second son of the Cardinal, Diego Hurtado de Mendoza – who would become the Count of Mélito and who fought in the second campaign of Naples under the command of the Great Captain – to the Cid in his narration of the capture of the Castillo de San Jorge.55 In this way, Fernández confirms his parentage to the Cid and, therefore, legitimizes the descendants of Pedro González de Mendoza. 5.3 Military Virtues and Knightly Biographies The new understanding of the military order – which was first articulated in the code that Gutierre Díaz de Games incorporated into the biography of Pero Niño, El Victorial – was outlined in treatises like the Doctrinal de cavallería by Alfonso de Cartagena, bishop of Burgos. The bishop will deal specifically with the Cid in Anaçefaleosis and in Memorial de virtudes in such a way that “los cambios que se operan en la materia cidiana, puestos de manifiesto en estas dos obras de Alonso de Cartagena, serán recogidos y ampliados por cronistas y autores de tratados políticos que florecerán durante el reinado de los Reyes 54 55 In the first half of the 16th century, the lineage of the Velasco family underwent a process similar to that of the Mendoza family. It must be remembered that the second count of Haro married Doña Mencía de Mendoza, Cardinal Mendoza’s sister. In the unpublished Historia de los Reyes de España desde Pelayo hasta Enrique iii, attributed to Pedro Fernández de Velasco (d. 1559), the lineage of this family was based on the epic figures linked to the origins of Castile in a trajectory that goes from the Jueces de Castilla to Fernán González and to the Cid. See Jular Pérez-Alfaro, “La importancia de ser antiguo: Los Velasco y su construcción genealógica”, especially pp. 214-20. The author regrets that the deeds of Díaz de Vivar were not recorded by a better historian: “Allí resucita su clara simiente / que contra paganos ha tanto hiziera / aquel Çid famoso el cual meresçiera / istoria muy clara, notable, excelente, / en no ser las letras y ornado florente, / en gentes d’España cual ya ser devían / sus muy claros hechos sepultos dormían / por mengua de autor esperto y prudente” (Fernández, Historia parthenopea, c. 190). The Cidian Matter in the 15th Century 489 Católicos”.56 As a result of this process, by the end of the century Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar became a paragon of virtue: Así, a fines del medievo, la identidad nacional que se afirma vigorosa y agresivamente en el exterior, sea en concilios o en misiones diplomáticas, y cuyos portavoces son conspicuos letrados, recibe una significativa impronta popular, la derivada de tradiciones épicas.57 This is evident in the many compilations written by Diego Rodríguez de Almela, one of the learned men in Alfonso de Cartagena’s circle. As it has already been noted, this historian included in his Batallas campales the most important exploits of Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar’s life. Moreover, his line of arguments allow him to transform the Cid into the basis of moral inquiries about history that he carried out both in Valerio de las estorias escolásticas e de España, printed in 1487, as well as in the Compilación de los Milagros de Santiago.58 Rodrigo Díaz’s efforts in battle could be used as a paradigm in all kinds of treatises, whether concerning matters of war or designed to frame the development of different military campaigns.59 One of these paradigmatic situations reappeared in the Panegírico a la reina doña Isabel de Diego Guillén de Ávila60, as well as in Juan Núñez de Toledo’s Tratado sobre la guerra de Francia (printed in 1504), in whose prologue he utilized the story of Castile’s exemption from the tribute the French and other enemies wanted to impose on Fernando I. During the reign of the Catholic Monarchs, two knightly biographies imbued with values deriving from the Cid’s military trajectory were printed: on the one hand, the Crónica popular del Cid, published in Seville in 1498, whose content was borrowed from chapters XXXVIII-CIV of the fourth section of Diego de Valera’s Crónica abreviada;61 on the other, the Crónica del famoso cavallero Cid 56 57 58 59 60 61 Díez Garretas, “El Çid Ruy Díaz como exemplum”, p. 333. Fernández Gallardo, “Tradiciones épicas en el siglo XV”, p. 718. For an analysis of the Cidian material in these works, see Gómez Redondo, “El Cid humanístico”, pp. 335-41. Gómez Redondo, “El Cid humanístico”, pp. 341-42. The work was finished in 1499 and printed in 1509; it is a chronistic summary in which Rodrigo is presented using materials from the Mocedades, the Poema, and the *Estoria de Cardeña: “Y aquel cavallero que allí ves armado, / de armas tan claras, febridas, fulgentes, / el Cid es Ruy Dias aquel esforçado, / que reyes venció tan grandes potentes, / por éste Valencia si pones bien mientes, / de los Africanos fue bien defendida, / aquéste en la muerte venció y en la vida, / ý hizo más cosas que saben las gentes”, stanza 71; I quote the facsimile reprinting: Madrid, 1951. See Moya García, “Anonimia y omisión de autor en la Crónica popular del Cid”. 490 Gómez Redondo Ruy Díez Campeador, more commonly known as the Crónica particular del Cid, published in Burgos by Fadrique Alemán de Basilea in 1512. Its text derives from the first section of the Crónica de Castilla and was prepared – together with some interesting appendices – by Juan de Velorado, the abbot of San Pedro de Cardeña. It resembles a treatise on military art – thus confirming the expectations that had been gradually created throughout the 15th century – supplemented by hagiographic references more attuned to the monastic milieu where the work was compiled. It ends with invaluable appendices containing the Cid’s genealogy62 and two epitaphs, one in Latin and the other that is epic in nature.63 This compilation seems to be related to the Infante Fernando, who was born in 1503.64 Keeping in mind that King Fernando the Catholic preferred the line of succession represented by this grandson, it is safe to think that this collection of the Cid’s exploits may have been composed for his education. In fact, in the prologue it is stated that the compilation was prompted by the Infante’s visit to the monastery: Estando en el monesterio e casa de Sant Pedro de Cardeña, adonde está enterrado el cuerpo del muy noble e valiente cavallero vencedor de batallas el Cid Ruy Díez de Vivar, e otros muchos cavalleros que al tiempo con él se hallaron, vista allí su Crónica original, que en el tiempo de su vida se hizo e ordenó, e los muy señalados hechos que en su tiempo hizo e los muchos miraglos que en acrescentamiento de nuestra santa fee católica en aquellos tiempos subcedieron, que de no se haver publicado ni tresladada la dicha Crónica estavan ya tan olvidados que si en ello no se pusiese remedio, según la Crónica estava caduca muy presto no se pudiera remediar y en breve se perdería.65 6 Conclusions This analysis of how Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar is represented in 15th-century learned works – especially in chronicles, as well as in moral and encomiastic poems – can be synthesized by three ideas: 62 63 64 65 See Bautista Pérez, “Cardeña, Pedro de Barcelos y la Genealogía del Cid”. See Montaner, “El epitafio épico del Cid”. See Gómez Redondo, “El Cid humanístico”, pp. 342-43. Crónica particular del Cid, fol. A2r-v. The Cidian Matter in the 15th Century 491 1) The development of the Cidian matter over the course of the 15th century depends on epic and historical materials contained in the Crónica de Castilla at the beginning of the 14th century. The same materials were reproduced in both redactions of Pedro de Barcelos’ Crónica geral de Espanha de 1344. From this work it will be later appropriated by the Crónica de 1404 and the Estoria del fecho de los godos until it reached Diego de Valera – who used the Count of Barcelos’ compilation to recount the Cid’s life in the fourth section of his Crónica abreviada – and what has come to be known as Crónica popular del Cid. Therefore, it is important to connect these two textual circumstances, which converge and contribute to the affirmation of the royal power at the beginning of the 14th century – perhaps prompted by the queen regent, María de Molina – and in the early years of Queen Isabel’s reign. In both cases, the Cid’s ideological reconstruction is used to promote Castilian hegemony in moments of crisis when there was a need for support through heroic deeds and military power. These ideals were used to uphold the lineage of Sancho IV and María de Molina (especially between 1295 and 1304), as well as to promote the chivalric order that emerged from the Castilian War of Succession (1475-79). These new ideas that took shape in 1481 – thanks to the printing of the Valeriana – were soon to be put into practice in the conquest of Granada. 2) Throughout the 15th century, the dichotomy of the Cid’s performance and the conduct attributed to him that started to take shape at the end of the 13th century continued to be useful. The somewhat rebellious Cid that appeared in the Jura de Santa Gadea and the Mocedades de Rodrigo was used to support the privileges of the aristocratic class, as seen in his genealogical adoption by the Álvarez de Toledo clan and later by the Mendoza’s and Manrique’s. On the other hand, a remake of a faithful Rodrigo who loved his king and skillfully ruled the city of Valencia – which derived from the Poema de mio Cid – was used to construct a chivalric imaginary designed to support King Juan II, who was continuously attacked by his cousins, the Infantes of Aragon. 3) The 15th-century treatment of Rodrigo Díaz’s image was linked to the projects of renovating the military orders that were promoted over the course of three reigns – Juan II, Enrique IV, and the joint reign of Isabel and Fernando – but most particularly by Álvaro de Luna and the military and royal power surrounding the Catholic Monarchs. The Cid’s first appearances occur in the catalogue of worthy men in El Victorial and, as an exemplary figure, in the Libro de las claras e virtuosas mugeres; the second appearance is when he is made to provide a famous ancestor to three singular 15th-century Rodrigos: the Marquis of Cádiz and the Count of Paredes de Nava, both presented as “segundos Cides”, and the son of Pedro González de Mendoza, who was called the “primer Cid” – that is to say, a kind of Cid reborn. This new Rodrigo de Vivar 492 Gómez Redondo progressively took on the identity of his alleged ancestor, not only by means of the genealogical networks created by the Mendoza family, but also because of the creation of a landed estate (“el señorío del Cid”) that was later transformed into a condado (possession of a Count), and would enable his legitimization. In this way, the man who began to be called Rodrigo de Vivar y Mendoza at the beginning of the 16th century bequeathed to his descendants – along with the title of Marquis of Cenete – the most complete Cidian imaginary, which was recreated and reconstructed by his biographers, in order to pass it on to the seventh duke of the Infantado, Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar Sandoval Hurtado de Mendoza, in the first half of the 17th century. Works Cited Primary Sources Bernáldez, Andrés, Memorias del reinado de los Reyes Católicos, que escribía el bachiller Andrés Bernáldez, cura de Los Palacios, ed. Manuel Gómez-Moreno and Juan de Mata Carriazo, Madrid: Real Academia de la Historia, 1962. Burgos, Diego de, El triunfo del Marqués de Santillana (1458), ed. Carlos Moreno Hernández, Parnaseo: Textos Lemir, Valencia: Universitat de València, 2008. URL: <http://ꝑarnaseo.uv.es/Lemir/Textos/Carlos_Moreno/Carlos_Moreno.pdf>. Cancionero de Juan Alfonso de Baena, ed. Brian Dutton and Joaquín González Cuenca, Madrid: Visor, 1993. Carlos de Viana, La crónica de los Reyes de Navarra del Príncipe de Viana, ed. Carmen Orcástegui Gros, Pamplona: Diputación Foral de Navarra, 1978. Crónica de Castilla, ed. Patricia Rochwert-Zuili, Les Livres d’e-Spania: Sources, 1, Paris: SEMH-Sorbonne, 2010. URL: <http://e-spanialivres.revues.org/63>. Crónica de Don Álvaro de Luna, Condestable de Castilla, Maestre de Santiago, ed. Juan de Mata Carriazo, Colección de Crónicas Españolas, 2, Madrid: Espasa Calpe, 1940. Crónicas de los Reyes de Castilla: desde don Alfonso el Sabio hasta los Católicos don Fernando y doña Isabel, ed. Cayetano Rosell, 3 vols., Biblioteca de Autores Españoles, 66, 68, and 70, Madrid: M. Rivadeneyra, 1875-78 (reprinted Madrid: Atlas, 1953). Crónica particular del Cid = Crónica del famoso cavallero Cid Ruy Díez Campeador, ed. Fr. Juan de Velorado, Burgos: Fadrique Alemán de Basilea, sponsored by the Monasterio de San Pedro de Cardeña, 1512 (reprinted New York: De Wine Press, 1903). Díaz de Games, Gutierre, El Victorial, ed. Rafael Beltrán, Biblioteca Clásica, 9, Madrid: Real Academia Española-Galaxia Gutenberg, 2014. Escavias, Pedro de, Repertorio de Príncipes de España y obra poética del Alcaide Pedro de Escavias, ed. Michel Garcia, Jaén: Instituto de Estudios Giennenses, 1972. Fernández, Alfonso, Historia parthenopea, Roma: Luis de Gibraleón, 1516. The Cidian Matter in the 15th Century 493 Fernández de Oviedo, Gonzalo, Batallas y quinquagenas, ed. Juan Bautista Avalle-Arce, Salamanca: Diputación Provincial de Salamanca, 1989. Fernández de Velasco, Pedro, Historia de los Reyes de España desde Pelayo hasta Enrique III, Madrid, Biblioteca Nacional de España, MS/896. García de Salazar, Lope, Bienandanzas e fortunas, ed. Ana María Marín Sánchez, Parnaseo: Textos Lemir, Valencia: Universitat de València, 1992. URL: <http://par naseo.uv.es/Lemir/Textos/bienandanzas/Menu.htm>. Guillén de Ávila, Diego, Panegírico a la reina doña Isabel (Valladolid, 1509), Madrid, 1951. Historia de los hechos del marqués de Cádiz, ed. Juan Luis Carriazo Rubio, Monumenta Regni Granatensis Historica: Scriptores, 1, Granada: Universidad de Granada, 2003. Luna, Álvaro de, Libro de las virtuosas e claras mugeres, ed. Julio Vélez-Sainz, Letras Hispánicas, 647, Madrid: Cátedra, 2009. Manrique, Gómez, Cancionero, ed. Francisco Vidal González, Letras Hispánicas, 541, Madrid: Cátedra, 2003. Medina de Mendoza, Francisco, Suma de la vida del cardenal don Pedro Gonçález de Mendoza, Madrid, Biblioteca Nacional de España, MSS/9848. Mena, Juan de, Laberinto de Fortuna y otros poemas, ed. Carla de Nigris, preliminary study by Guillermo Serés, Biblioteca Clásica, 14, Barcelona: Crítica, 1994. Pablo de Santa María, Las siete edades del mundo: refundición de 1460, ed. Juan Carlos Conde, Lemir 1 (1996-97), URL: <http://parnaseo.uv.es/Lemir/Textos/Conde/Conde. html> (New edition included as appendix I in the 1999 edition). Pablo de Santa María, Las siete edades del mundo, ed. Juan Carlos Conde, in La creación de un discurso historiográfico en el Cuatrocientos castellano: “Las siete edades del mundo” de Pablo de Santa María, Salamanca: Ediciones de la Universidad de Salamanca, 1999. Pérez de Guzmán, Fernán, Generaciones y semblanzas, ed. José Antonio Barrio Sánchez, Letras Hispánicas, 456, Madrid: Cátedra, 1998. Pulgar, Hernando de, Crónica de los Reyes Católicos, ed. Juan de Mata Carriazo, 2 vols., Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1943 (reprinted with preliminary study by Gonzalo Pontón, Granada- Sevilla: Universidad de Granada-Universidad de Sevilla, 2008). Rodríguez de Almela, Diego, Copilación de las batallas campales, Murcia: Lope de la Roca, 1487. Salazar y de Mendoza, Pedro de, Crónica de el Gran Cardenal de España, don Pedro Gonçález de Mendoça, Toledo: María Ortiz de Saravia, 1625. Santa Cruz, Alonso de, Crónica del Emperador Carlos V, ed. Ricardo Beltrán y Rózpide and Antonio Blázquez y Delgado-Aguilera, 5 vols., Madrid: Real Academia de la Historia, 1920-25. Santa Cruz, Alonso de, Crónica de los Reyes Católicos, ed. Juan de Mata Carriazo, Sevilla: Escuela de Estudios Hispano-Americanos de Sevilla, 1951. 494 Gómez Redondo Valera, Diego de, Memorial de diversas hazañas: crónicas de Enrique IV, ed. Juan de Mata Carriazo, Colección de Crónicas Españolas, 4, Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1941. Valera, Diego de, Tratado de las epístolas, ed. Mario Penna, in Prosistas castellanos del siglo XV, Biblioteca de Autores Españoles, 116, vol. I, Madrid: Atlas, 1959, pp. 3-46. Viana: see Carlos de Viana Secondary Sources Armistead, Samuel G., “Las Mocedades de Rodrigo según Lope García de Salazar”, Romania 94 (1973), pp. 303-20 (reedited in La tradición épica de las “Mocedades de Rodrigo”, Salamanca: Ediciones de la Universidad de Salamanca, 2000, pp. 79-90, and addenda pp. 175-78). Bautista Pérez, Francisco, “Cardeña, Pedro de Barcelos y la Genealogía del Cid”, e-Spania 11 (2011), URL: <http://e-spania.revues.org/20446>. Beceiro Pita, Isabel, “La conciencia de los antepasados y la gloria del linaje de la Castilla bajoimperial”, in Reyna Pastor de Togneri (coord.), Relaciones de poder, de producción y de parentesco en la Edad Media y Moderna: aproximación a su estudio, Madrid: CSIC, 1990, pp. 329-350. Catalán, Diego, La épica española: nueva documentación y nueva evaluación, Madrid: Fundación Ramón Menéndez Pidal, 2001. Conde, Juan Carlos, La creación de un discurso historiográfico en el Cuatrocientos castellano: “Las siete edades del mundo” de Pablo de Santa María, Salamanca: Ediciones de la Universidad de Salamanca, 1999. Díez Garretas, María Jesús, “El Çid Ruy Díaz como exemplum en la historiografía en los ‘espejos’ del siglo xv: la Anaçefaleosis y el Memorial de virtudes de Alonso de Cartagena”, in César Hernández Alonso (coord.), Actas del congreso internacional El Cid, poema e historia, Burgos: Ayuntamiento de Burgos, 2000, pp. 329-333. Fernández Gallardo, Luis, “Tradiciones épicas en el siglo xv: Los letrados ante la materia cidiana y carolingia”, in Rafael Alemany, Josep Lluís Martos, and Josep Miquel Manzanaro (coords.), Actes del X Congrés Internacional de l’Associació Hispànica de Literatura Medieval, vol. II, Alacant: Institut Interuniversitari de Filologia Valenciana, 2005, pp. 709-19. Fernández Gallardo, Luis, “La biografía como memoria estamental: identidades y conflictos”, in José Manuel Nieto Soria (coord.), La monarquía como conflicto en la Corona castellano-leonesa (c.1230-1504), Madrid: Dykinson, 2006, pp. 423-88. Fernández Madrid, María Teresa, “Una familia de mecenas: la Casa de Mendoza”, in Joaquín Yarza Luaces (coord.), El Marqués de Santillana, 1398-1458: los albores de la España Moderna. El humanista, vol. III, Madrid, Nerea: 2001, pp. 129-54. Foulché-Delbosc, Raymond, ed., Cancionero castellano del siglo XV, 2 vols., Madrid: BaillyBailliére, 1912-15. The Cidian Matter in the 15th Century 495 García López, M.ª Cruz, and Alberto Montaner Frutos, “El estandarte cidiano de Vivar (Burgos)”, Emblemata 10 (2004), 501-32. Gómez Lorente, Manuel, El marquesado de Cenete (1490-1523), Granada: Universidad de Granada, 1990, URL: <http://digibug.ugr.es/handle/10481/6460#.VIdQbzGG-iM> Gómez Redondo, Fernando, “El Cid humanístico: la configuración del paradigma caballeresco”, Olivar 8 (2007), 327-45. Jular Pérez-Alfaro, Cristina, “La importancia de ser antiguo: Los Velasco y su construcción genealógica”, in Arsenio Dacosta, José Ramón Prieto Lasa, and José Ramón Díaz de Durana (eds.), La conciencia de los antepasados: la construcción de la memoria de la nobleza en la Baja Edad Media, Madrid: Marcial Pons, 2014, pp. 201-36. Layna Serrano, Francisco, Historia de Guadalajara y sus Mendozas en los siglos XV y XVI, 4 vols., Madrid: Instituto Jerónimo Zurita, CSIC, 1942 (reprinted Guadalajara: Aache Ediciones, 1993-96). MacKay, Angus, “Un Cid Ruy Díaz en el siglo XV: Rodrigo Ponce de León, marqués de Cádiz”, in El Cid en el valle del Jalón. Simposio internacional, Calatayud: Centro de Estudios Bilbilitanos, 1991, pp. 197-207. Menéndez Pidal de Navascués, Faustino, “Las armas de los Mendoza: un ejemplo de los usos de fines de la Edad Media”, in F. Menéndez Pidal de Navascués (coord.), Las armerías en Europa al comenzar la Edad Moderna y su proyección al Nuevo Mundo. Actas del VII Coloquio Internacional de Heráldica. Cáceres, 30 sept-4 oct. de 1991, Madrid: Dirección de los Archivos Estatales, 1993, pp. 277-95. Montaner Frutos, Alberto, “La enseña del Cid”, Banderas: Boletín de la Sociedad Española de Vexilología 78 (2001), 39-54. Montaner Frutos, Alberto, “Rodrigo y el gafo”, in El Cid: de la materia épica a las crónicas caballerescas, C. Alvar, G. Martin, and F. Gómez Redondo (eds.), Alcalá de Henares: Universidad de Alcalá, 2002, pp. 121-79. Montaner Frutos, Alberto, “El epitafio épico del Cid”, in Mercedes Pampín and Carmen Parrilla (eds.), Actas del IX Congreso Internacional de la Asociación Hispánica de Literatura Medieval, vol. III, A Coruña: Universidade de A Coruña, 2005, pp. 193203. Montaner Frutos, Alberto, ed., Cantar de mio Cid, preliminary study by Francisco Rico, Madrid: Real Academia Española, 2011. Moreno Hernández, Carlos, Retórica y humanismo: El Triunfo del Marqués de Santillana (1458), Textos Lemir, Valencia: Universitat, 2008. Moya García, Cristina, “Anonimia y omisión de autor en la Crónica popular del Cid”, in Maud Le Guellec (ed.), El autor oculto en la literatura española: siglos xiv a xviii, Madrid: Casa de Velázquez, 2014, pp. 53-62. Nader, Helen, Los Mendoza y el Renacimiento español, Guadalajara: Institución Provincial de Cultura “Marqués de Santillana”, 1986. 496 Gómez Redondo Nieto Soria, José Manuel, “Conflicto político e invención histórica en algunos libros de blasón castellanos en tiempos de los Reyes Católicos”, Cahier d’Études Hispaniques Médiévales 29 (2006), 301-16. Solera López, Rus, “El manuscrito D de la Crónica de Castilla: texto y representaciones emblemáticas”, Emblemata 9 (2003), 17-126. Valverde Ogallar, Pedro, Manuscritos y heráldica en el tránsito a la modernidad: el Libro de armería de Diego Hernández de Mendoza, Madrid: Universidad Complutense, 2001, URL: <http://biblioteca.ucm.es/tesis/ghi/ucm-t26322.pdf>. Vaquero, Mercedes, Cultura nobiliaria y biblioteca de Fernán Pérez de Guzmán, Ciudad Real: Oretania, 2003. Villalba Ruiz de Toledo, F. Javier, El Cardenal Mendoza (1428-1495), Madrid: Rialp, 1988. The Canonization of the Poema de mio Cid 497 Chapter 16 The Canonization of the Poema de mio Cid from the 18th to the 20th Century Luis Galván Since a Companion such as this has been completed, the canonical status of the Poema de mio Cid (PMC) may be taken for granted. Indeed, this status has been in place for over one hundred years. It was 1913 when Ramón Menéndez Pidal first published a pocket edition with a prologue that praised the PMC for its artistic and national worth, and displayed the accolades bestowed to it by literary historians and critics in the preceding century. Some fifty years before, however, Antonio de Trueba, Juan Valera, and Florencio Janer had declared it hardly readable; they were echoing Manuel José Quintana’s verdict at the end of the 18th century. As a matter of fact, the Colección de poesías castellanas anteriores al siglo XV edited by Tomás Antonio Sánchez, where the PMC was printed for the first time (1779), was hailed a landmark in antiquarian scholarship and a particular service to the nation, but it resulted in a commercial failure, and its publisher had to stop the series shortly afterwards. Juan Pablo Forner mocked Sánchez as being a fool devoted to annotating old parchments in praise of the Cid’s breeches. Therefore, the canonization of the PMC was far from being an automatic response to its publication, and it is worth examining how it was brought about.1 With such a slow-paced rise from obscurity to conspicuousness, the case of the PMC comes as close as one could reasonably wish to laboratory conditions for a study on the process of canonizing a text.2 Let me begin by summarizing some basic ideas about canonicity. First, canonicity, being a matter of particular 1 In order to keep this chapter and especially the list of Works Cited to a manageable size, the reader is directed, for a fuller discussion, quotations, and bibliography, to Banús and Galván “De como mio Cid”; Galván and Banús, “Seco y latoso / Viejo y venerable”; Galván, El Poema del Cid en España; Galván and Banús, El Poema del Cid en Europa. See also Magnotta, Historia y bibliografía; Rodiek, La recepción internacional del Cid. Further bibliographical references for specific points will be given with economy in subsequent notes. 2 For a similar case, see Ehrismann, Das Nibelungenlied; Heinzle and Waldschmidt, Die Nibelungen. © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004363755_018 498 Galván historical facts, not of universal aesthetic values, can be assessed empirically.3 Second, canons vary in space and time, and in kind as well: scholarly interest usually concentrates on few authors and works, which constitute the critical canon; there are selective canons, chosen for specific curricula by means of syllabi, reading lists, and anthologies, some of which may coincide and may be endorsed by institutions; the accessible canon is made up of books easy to reach because they were recently issued or reissued; when many of these canons and processes converge, they amount to a cumulative canonicity.4 Also, a shift in function, captured with the motto “from canon to classic”, has taken place between the Enlightenment and the Romanticism. The canon, in this stricter sense, used to be a set of authors or works proposed as exemplary for social interaction and literary expression, and it supposedly lends itself to inductive scrutiny in search of universal poetic rules, whereas the classics are texts – often the same as the canonical ones – that the reader is invited to delve into in a singular, subjective aesthetic experience.5 As a consequence, interpretation, instead of imitation, is now the main activity concerning the canonical (classical) works, and canonicity involves not only what texts deserve to be interpreted, but also how interpretation is to be accomplished. Interpretive paradigms, traditions, or communities rally and occasionally fight one another about certain texts and methods.6 Thus, “one of the main functions of canon formation […] is to insure the stability and adaptability of a given community”, and this easily blurs the distinction between observing the literary system from a descriptive, “epistemic” stance and participating in it from a prescriptive or programmatic one, defined by personal aesthetic, ethical or political commitments.7 These preliminary reflections entail consequences for the scope of this chapter. First, the critical canon is more or less international and, consequently, interpretations published in several countries must be considered. On the 3 Pozuelo and Aradra, Teoría del canon, pp. 9-10; Montaner, “Factores empíricos”. See, however, Brown, “Constructing Our Pedagogical Canons”. 4 Fowler, Kinds of Literature, pp. 214-16. For the theory of “cumulative canon formation”, see Tötösy de Zepetnek, Comparative Literature, pp. 46-48. Talk about a supposedly “official” canon is widespread, but probably inexact; for instance, Mignolo usually writes “official” between scare quotes (“Canons A(nd)cross-cultural boundaries”). 5 See Gumbrecht, “Phoenix from the Ashes”. 6 Kermode, “Institutional Control”; Fish, Is There A Text in This Class?, pp. 303-71. 7 Mignolo, “Canons A(nd)cross-cultural boundaries” (quotation from p. 1). I have substituted “programmatic” for Mignolo’s term (“vocational”). On the other hand, the distinction observing/participating, however important for systems theory, is not necessarily linked to it; see, for instance, Frye, The Critical Path, and Montaner, “En defensa del sentido literal”. The Canonization of the Poema de mio Cid 499 other hand, the accessibility and official endorsement of canons depend on editions, translations, institutions, and authorities usually restricted to a national level at most. Therefore, it makes more sense to focus the canonization of the PMC in Spain rather than elsewhere.8 Finally, I hope that a chapter on canonization, though coming at the end of this volume, will not be seen as an ornament or appendix to the thing itself. Canonicity being part of the tradition and situation in which readers and scholars approach the PMC today, it shapes their experience and research, and this should happen in a conscious, controlled way.9 1 The First Edition: Context and Consequences The PMC was hardly available, let alone canonical, in the early centuries of the Modern Era, even though its narrative content was conveyed to readers by other means, as previous chapters have shown. The only extant medieval manuscript, kept in Vivar, was copied in 1596 by a certain Juan Ruiz de Ulibarri, who was sent by the oidor Gil Remírez de Arellano to research ancient legal documents.10 It was also quoted by two historians, Prudencio de Sandoval in his Historia de las fundaciones of Benedictine monasteries (1601), and Francisco de Berganza in his Antigüedades de España (1719). Later in the 18th century, a growing interest in the history of the Spanish language and poetry led other people to the oldest texts. Although the first survey on the matter, Luis José Velázquez’s Orígenes de la poesía castellana (1754), ignored the PMC, two meticulous scholars scrutinized it: Martín Sarmiento, in Memorias para la historia de la poesía y poetas españoles (redacted in 1745, published in 1775), who copied from the manuscript many “voces y frases [...] purísimas castellanas”; and Cándido María Trigueros, in Disertación sobre el verso suelto y la rima (1766, unpublished) and in Poesías filosóficas (1775), who found the oldest examples of meter and rhyme in the Spanish vernacular in the PMC. In this atmosphere of learned approaches to medieval texts, it was deemed not only desirable but also feasible to print them. Thus, Francisco Cerdá and 8 9 10 For the institutional, epistemological, and ideological context in Spain, see Aradra, De la Retórica a la Teoría de la Literatura; Baasner, Literaturgeschichtsschreibung in Spanien; Fox, La invención de España; Gumbrecht and Sánchez, “Geschichte als Trauma”; Portolés, Medio siglo de filología española; Pozuelo and Aradra, Teoría del canon. See Gadamer, Wahrheit und Methode, pp. 304-10. There were several other manuscript copies in the 17th and 18th centuries; see Montaner’s contribution to this Companion. 500 Galván Eugenio de Llaguno persuaded Tomás Antonio Sánchez, who was preparing an annotated edition of the Marqués de Santillana’s Proemio al condestable de Portugal, to form a full-fledged Colección de poesías castellanas anteriores al siglo XV to be printed at the expense of Antonio de Sancha. This project involved and attracted some other scholars, such as Gregorio Mayans, Manuel Ulibarri, Juan Antonio Pellicer, and Rafael Floranes, who wrote letters and notes on the subject or just discussed it with Sánchez. The first volume of the Colección, published in 1779, contained the text of the PMC. It was then when the verses received the title Poema del Cid, since Ruiz de Ulibarri and others had called it Historia del Cid. Three more volumes followed, containing the works of Gonzalo de Berceo, the Poema de Alexandro and the Libro del Arcipreste de Hita – now Libro de buen amor. Sánchez’s comprehensiveness and careful editing deserved the praise given by reviewers and bibliographers, and it set high standards for subsequent work in Spanish philology.11 The main interest of Sánchez and his contemporaries was not poetry or literary criticism but philology, bibliography, and history – or rather, antiquarianism (palaeography, epigraphy, diplomatic, numismatics). Within such a frame, the PMC was approached chiefly as a document about the history of the Castilian language, historical toponymy, the history of manners, and even as a more or less truthful record of the facts of Rodrigo Díaz’s life. Consequently, Sánchez ventured little from a literary point of view: he commented that the PMC lacks poetical imagery, mythology, and brilliant thoughts, but instead it offers some ironical, acute, or proverbial sayings. Furthermore, if due attention is given to its meter, the hero, and the exploits narrated, “no le falta su mérito para graduarse de poema épico […] conforme a las condiciones que pide Horacio para el verso heroico en su Arte poética: Res gestae Regumque, Ducumque & tristia bella”.12 Sánchez sets, thus, the literary reception of the PMC into a frame of genre theory and criticism. As it happens, such a frame is decisively linked with canonicity, since “not only are certain genres regarded prima facie as more canonical than others, but individual works or passages may be valued more or less according to their generic height”.13 In fact, literary pursuits in 16th-century 11 12 13 See Deyermond, “Sánchez’s Colección and Percy’s Reliques”. There is an exception to his careful editing: Sánchez had misgivings about the obscenity of the Libro del Arcipreste, and asked the Real Academia de la Historia for advice. The report by Jovellanos concluded that the book could be edited without changes, for it was incomprehensible to the common reader. However, Sánchez went on to bowdlerize it. Sánchez, Colección, pp. 229-30. He is quoting Horace’s rendering of the subject matter of the Homeric poems (Ad Pisones, v. 73). Fowler, Kinds of Literature, p. 216. The Canonization of the Poema de mio Cid 501 Spain and later were devoted to what has been aptly called “the quest for the epic poem”.14 This included a variety of concerns, ranging from polemics about Góngora’s Soledades to literary contests announced by the Real Academia Española for poems about Hernán Cortés (in 1778) and the Siege of Zamora (in 1833). To put it simply, epic poetry as a genre held the highest esteem, and the Iliad and the Aeneid were the most canonical works of all. The Spaniards – tacitly or in declared rivalry with the Italians – sorely felt the lack of a poem that could satisfy the high generic standards and enter the canon. In this context, Sánchez’s classification of the PMC entailed a favourable appreciation that had few prospects of being accepted by many. Juan Andrés’ stance in his influential Origen, progresos y estado actual de toda la literatura is very symptomatic. In the second volume, which deals with the beginnings of Castilian poetry, he shows an interest in the PMC’s dating in order to assess the poem as a linguistic and cultural document. On the other hand, in the third volume, concerning the development of epic poetry, Andrés states that this genre decayed after Virgil and did not recover until Boiardo and Ariosto. The works written in the intermediate period may attract scholarly attention, but should not be the object of poetic imitation. Specifically, says Andrés, the sacred name of “epic poem” would be defiled if applied to formless compositions such as the PMC and the Poema de Alexandro – Dante’s Commedia didn’t escape a similar verdict. Considering these circumstances, writers with an interest in poetry and literary criticism found little motivation for dealing with the PMC. The few writers who felt compelled to do so – in surveys or anthologies, for instance – produced summaries and included quotations of the poem in their historical introductions with warnings about its poor literary value. So did Juan Bautista Conti in Colección de poesías castellanas (1782), Antonio de Capmany in Teatro histórico crítico de la elocuencia española (1786), and Manuel José Quintana in Poesías escogidas (1796) and in Poesías selectas (1807). Quintana showed, however, a growing tolerance toward non-classical poetry. At first, he disapproved of the oldest poems as unimaginative and uncouth; in 1807, he acknowledged some vividness and sensibility in the PMC, although he disdained it as a whole because of its ridiculous style, which lacked elegance and imagination. According to Biblioteca selecta (1819), by Pablo Mendíbil and Manuel Silvela, it was unnecessary to warn the reader that the PMC was not an epic poem; should such an old work deserve that label, it would be justly renowned – at the cost of the Italians. In other works about poetry and its rules, there was simply no 14 Blanco, Góngora heroico, p. 11; see also Nerlich, Untersuchungen; and, for the European context, Vega Ramos and Vilà, La teoría de la épica. 502 Galván mention of the PMC. Occasionally, a dismissive remark was made (in the translation of Hugh Blair’s Lectures on Rhetoric and Belles Lettres; in Martínez de la Rosa’s Poética). In broader terms, there was a clear-cut separation between the epistemic and the programmatic stances: the former accepted the PMC for scrutiny, but the latter disdained it. Although literary history was an ill-suited context for appreciation, as Andrés’ case shows, two exceptions are worth considering. José Vargas Ponce in Disertación sobre la lengua castellana (1793) highlighted the decorum and vividness of some sections of the PMC, and praised a certain Homeric and Virgilian flavour in the use of epithets. This case reveals that both detractors and defenders of the PMC shared the same canon; it must be borne in mind that they had no alternatives at their disposal, since it was not until well into the 19th century when other medieval epics in the Romance languages were printed. In conclusion, having as a paradigm a set of neo-classical rules, supposedly exemplified by Homer, Virgil, and Ariosto, the PMC could not possibly become part of the canon. The only exception to this stance is found in Xavier Lampillas’ argument in Ensayo histórico-apologético de la literatura española (1782) defending the dignity of the PMC and the veneration it deserves as the earliest vernacular epic poem in Spain. According to him, it could be compared to Ennius’ Annales, and is both older and better than the earliest Italian work, Morgante by Pulci. Lampillas’ position is interesting given his attempt to historicize the canon in favour of the PMC. He compared not the best, but rather the oldest examples of epic poetry in different languages. In any case, neither Lampillas nor Vargas Ponce was an authority who could compete with Andrés, Capmany, and Quintana. Lampillas and Vargas Ponce worked in a polemical, shallow context, and their opinions did not have consequences, whereas the judgment expressed by Andrés, Capmany, and Quintana found echoes in the second quarter of the 19th century in works by Antonio Alcalá Galiano, Alberto Lista, and Ángel de Saavedra, among others.15 2 Out of Spain, Into the Critical Canon In 1755, a manuscript of the Nibelungenlied was discovered. Johann Jakob Bodmer published some fragments in 1757, and Christoph Heinrich Myller produced the first full edition in 1782. The poem would soon be praised as a 15 This did not preclude further antiquarian work on the PMC – for instance, Diego Clemencín’s report for the Real Academia de la Historia in 1827 (see Solera’s review of Galván, El Poema del Cid, p. 161). The Canonization of the Poema de mio Cid 503 German Iliad, as a Homeric, sublime expression of the German national character. Moreover, the possibility of reaching a wider readership by means of a modern rendering was considered.16 Thus, the path for the canonization of a medieval epic was not impeded everywhere. Could the PMC, under conditions different from those in Spain, enjoy similar success as that of the Nibelungenlied? Such conditions, which existed at that moment in the German speaking countries, and soon in others as well, had two dimensions, one institutional and another ideological. The modern philologies – first the Germanic, then the Romance – were being established as academic disciplines; this happened within an idealist and romantic frame of mind that privileged historicist approaches to literary texts, focusing on the medieval period, national differences, and popular expressions.17 This search for national, popular principles in literature against French neoclassicism was later equated – not without a certain bias – with the wars of liberation against Napoleon.18 Surprisingly, the PMC was overlooked in the earliest sustained effort to provide a complete survey of the history of Spanish literature, carried out in the University of Göttingen in the last decades of the 18th century. The books by Dieze, Buchholz, and Eichhorn passed over it. It was Friedrich Bouterwek who first mentioned the PMC in his Geschichte der Poesie und Beredsamkeit (vol. 3, 1804) with little praise. In his opinion, it was a mere rhymed chronicle composed without any imagination and does not deserve to be called a poem. Matters would change dramatically within a few years. Herder borrowed a copy of Sánchez’s Colección from the University Library at Göttingen and read the PMC with enthusiasm while he was writing his Cid ballads. A reworking of Sánchez’s first volume by a certain Gotthilf Heinrich Schubert was printed in 1804, and, in spite of negative reviews, again in 1809. The historian Johannes von Müller found the PMC attractive and important. Then came Friedrich Schlegel’s Wiener Vorlesungen (1812), printed in 1815 as Geschichte der alten und neuen Literatur. This work is well known as a landmark of romantic literary historiography, which praises especially the medieval period and Spanish literature. About the PMC in particular, Friedrich Schlegel says something that would have shocked not only Andrés, Capmany, and Quintana, but probably 16 17 18 Ehrismann, Nibelungenlied, pp. 14-18. See Gumbrecht, “Un souffle d’Allemagne”. The most conspicuous products of academic Philology at the time were works of comparative and historical linguistics, but they were preceded by work on literary texts; for instance, Friedrich Diez published two small volumes on the Spanish “romances” (1818, 1821) before his Grammatik and Etymologisches Wörterbuch. Wolf, Ueber die Romanzen-Poesie der Spanier, p. 2. 504 Galván Tomás Antonio Sánchez as well: it is the only great national heroic poem of the Spaniards, full of the pure, loyal old Castilian spirit, worth more than a complete library of works of wit. In the following decades, the PMC became the focus of academic commentary and research. Friedrich Diez, the founding father of Romance Philology, expanded a collection of Altspanische Romanzen (1821) with some excerpts from it – in the original and in translation – with praise of its heroic content and the truth of its style. Victor Aimé Huber, after writing a Geschichte des Cid Ruy Diaz (1829), compared in his Habilitation – the earliest one for Medieval Romance Literature – the Spanish ballads and the PMC. In Austria, the imperial librarian and founder of the Akademie der Wissenschaften, Ferdinand Joseph Wolf, devoted pages in several works from 1831 onward to medieval Spanish poetry and, particularly, to the PMC. A German translation of the PMC by Otis Wolff, professor at Jena, was published in 1850. Outside the field of Philology, it must be noted that Hegel mentioned both the Cid ballads and the PMC in his Vorlesungen über die Ästhetik (published posthumously in 1835-38), as examples of the national spirit in the medieval epic. Moreover, he established a parallel between the Cid texts and the Iliad and the Odyssey, and he downgraded the Nibelungenlied. However positive these particular judgments are, Hegel’s main influence in the reception of the PMC consisted in the frame provided by his idealist explanation of literary genres and themes, and their relation to periods and nations, as we will see later. In Britain and in the United States, the success of the PMC was immediate, but less sustained. The poet Robert Southey wrote a Chronicle of the Cid based on several sources, among them, the PMC. He singled out this text in his enthusiastic commentary: “it is unquestionably the oldest poem in the Spanish language. In my judgement, it is as decidedly and beyond all comparison the finest”; “this poet […] is the Homer of Spain”.19 Southey’s work was known to S.T. Coleridge, who praised the Cid matter – in general – in letters, lectures, and in a passing remark in his Biographia literaria. Later commentaries would come from historians (Hallam, Prescott, and Dunham). Probably the greatest impulse that the canonization of the PMC received from this tradition has to be credited to George Ticknor’s lengthy exposition and laudatory remarks in his History of Spanish Literature (1849). His views about the PMC were unoriginal and did not reflect the state of the question at the time of their publication, but Ticknor’s History became a reference book for decades. The most thorough and original scrutiny of the PMC in Britain in those years was conducted by Andrés Bello, who, having moved from Caracas to London as 19 Southey, Chronicle of the Cid, pp. ix, xi. The Canonization of the Poema de mio Cid 505 a diplomat in order to procure support for American Independence, found time to do research at the British Museum.20 Bello’s first publication on the topic (1823) displays already a remarkable early acquaintance with French romances and gestes, which had been discovered recently and still awaited publication. Bello ascribed the PMC to that genre because of its meter and subject matter. This enabled him to historicize value judgments and genre theory, placing the PMC alongside a particular, historically situated set of texts, rather than into the universal, timeless category of epic poetry. In other respects, Bello shared the antiquarian approach of his Spanish predecessors, and also a somewhat neoclassical taste that, in his case, allowed a more balanced assessment of the “mérito poético” of the PMC: despite lacking wonders, amenities, love-affairs, and similes, it is as good as such a primitive work could be on account of its truthful rendering of characters and manners, appropriate dialogues, and bursts of energy. Bello went on to make a critical edition of the PMC, which was published posthumously. For some time, his contributions did not have much resonance; his insights would be developed by others decades later with the advancement of academic philology. The reception of the PMC by the French into the canon was cast in the German mould. The Histoire de la littérature du Midi de l’Europe (1813) by the Swiss Simonde de Sismondi – a friend of Madame de Staël and the Schlegel brothers – described the PMC as the infancy of poetry and language, and as the maturity of nationhood and heroism. Characters and facts are rendered, Sismondi says, with the most natural vividness. Subsequent literary historians and critics echoed these views (Villemain, Viardot, and others). Some Spanish exiles started to express more favourable opinions about the PMC (Maury, Florán), even though others were still reluctant (Silvela, Martínez de la Rosa). Later, French scholars began to show interest in the PMC (Rosseeuw-Saint Hilaire, 1838), and monographs began to appear (Jubinal, 1841). Damas-Hinard, private secretary of Empress Eugenia, published an impressive hardcover translation of the poem (1858). As I mentioned before, the PMC would be compared to French chansons de geste and other contemporary texts once they began to be printed. This was done in France in the 1830s: after the publication of Fierabras, Garin le Loherain, and Berthe aus grans pies, in 1837 came the Chanson de Roland, which was hailed as an important national poem within less than a decade.21 In 1863, Gaston Paris published a remarkable exercise in canonization, a study in which 20 21 See Grases, “Los estudios de Andrés Bello”; Smith, “Los trabajos de Bello”; Altschul, Geographies of Philological Knowledge. See Bédier, Les Legendes épiques, pp. 230-49; also Gumbrecht, “Un souffle de l’Allemagne”. 506 Galván he contrasted the universal human value of the Nibelungenlied with the national inspiration of the Chanson de Roland. Things being so, the Chanson happened to be superior as an example of the epic genre, because, according to German idealist poetics, a true epic poem had to be national. Paris gave the Iliad the highest poetic rank for being both human and national.22 In the same vein, comparing the PMC with the Chanson de Roland would become commonplace (Génin, Baret, Damas-Hinard, Puymaigre, etc.). It didn’t matter much in the long run whether the Castilian poem was deemed inferior, superior, or as good as the French one. What did matter was that it would no longer be possible to judge the PMC according to abstract standards; its characteristics and values would be assessed specifically by comparing it with similar medieval texts. However, the notion of a certain belatedness, and perhaps imitation, with respect to the Chanson de Roland robbed the PMC part of the praise its supposed naivety had earned it at the beginning of the century. Several scholars, also outside France – Ferdinand Wolf, for one – came to see the PMC as a contrived piece of literature, as Kunstpoesie, not Natur- or Volkpoesie. A corollary of this is that the PMC was no longer thought of as composed immediately after the facts reported; it was not a trustworthy source of information about Rodrigo Díaz. Such scepticism, already held by some in Spain and Germany in the first half of the 19th century, would be supported later chiefly by the Dutch scholar Reinhart Dozy.23 By the mid-19th century, the PMC was entrenched in the critical canon. Here, a methodological remark is in order. As I said at the beginning, the idea of canon and canon formation is related to specific communities, and the canonical texts are supposed to provide them with stabilization and adaptation. Such communities are often thought of as political, cultural, ethnic, or related to some other kind of entity; but, what here comes to the forefront is a professional community that has to adapt itself to a changing environment, namely, to the institutionalization of Philology as an academic discipline. As Karl Popper put it, a discipline consists primarily of a set of problems that await a solution.24 Since the PMC was no minor source of problems – date, authorship, historical accuracy, language, meter, relationship to chronicles and to 22 23 24 Paris, “La Chanson de Roland et les Nibelungen”, pp. 300-02. Reinhart Dozy was a scholar of Arabic studies. He did research on Arabic sources about Rodrigo Díaz, and, considering the discrepancies between these works – together with the Historia Roderici – and the PMC, he concluded that the poem was largely fictional. Dozy’s Recherches were reissued and translated several times in the 19th century. The Spaniard Manuel Malo de Molina shared his views (Rodrigo el Campeador, 1857). Menéndez Pidal disagreed with Dozy and Malo in La España del Cid. Popper, “Die Logik der Sozialwissenschaften”, p. 108. The Canonization of the Poema de mio Cid 507 other poems, and so on –, it was naturally welcomed by scholars who not only wanted, but had to do research in order to justify their posts. In such a scenario, nobody could safely ignore the PMC any more when providing a survey of medieval literature, as it happened at the end of the 18th century. What is worth noting in this period is that the epistemic and the programmatic stances tend to coalesce: for most scholars, the PMC was not only an interesting sample for philological analysis but also a valuable piece of literature. Finally, it may be observed that once the PMC no longer elicited discussion on its literary value, philological work continued to be done throughout the second half of the 19th century in European universities by Vollmöller, Cornu, Restori, Lidforss, and Koerbs.25 3 Cumulative Canonization in Spain Given that the critical canon is, to a large extent, international, Spanish scholars joined their colleagues abroad in due course, starting in the 1840s, with the spread of romantic and historicist tenets in literary studies. Some features of Spanish criticism on the PMC must be laid out before attention is given to its cumulative canonization, resulting also from institutional endorsement and editorial practices. The new assessment of the PMC’s literary value began in 1840 with two minor but significant writings: a prologue by Joaquín Rubió to the text of the PMC, which he appended to a collection of ballads, Tesoro de los romanceros, and an article by Pedro Pidal in Revista de Madrid. Their position was supported immediately afterwards by the translation of literary histories that praised the PMC: Simonde de Sismondi’s and Viardot’s in 1841, Schlegel’s in 1843, Ticknor’s in 1851. Both Rubió and Pidal expressed enthusiasm about the PMC because of its national spirit manifested in its religiosity, chivalry, and royalism. Other traits soon added to the national character purportedly expressed in the PMC were individual independence (in Modesto Lafuente’s Historia de España, 1851) and democratic spirit (in Agustín Durán’s appendix to Romancero General, 1851). These would be catch phrases for synthesizing the content of the PMC approvingly during the rest of the century and beyond. José Amador de los Ríos expanded these views and completed them with an analysis of the action and characters in the third volume of his Historia crítica de la literatura española (1863), whose two chapters on the PMC add up to over one hundred 25 I owe this point to Juan Carlos Bayo’s review of Galván and Banús, El Poema del Cid en Europa. 508 Galván pages – nothing short of a monograph. Manuel Milà’s inaugural lecture for the year 1865-66 at the University of Barcelona called the PMC a Homeric masterpiece and an expression of the national spirit. Among the many critics who wrote about the PMC in those decades, some were classicists or eclectics, but even they were inclined to dwell more on the rules the poem purportedly satisfied – goodness of characters and unity of action, for instance26 – than on its faults. However, until the 1860s some scholars were still reluctant to praise it (Figueroa, Tapia, Alcalá Galiano, Trueba, Valera). Later, such attitudes would be kept in a private sphere: Unamuno said in his letters that the PMC was a true bore, worth nothing to him, but he restrained himself in En torno al casticismo and called it old and sober, a fossil that was once alive (I mention below other aspects of Unamuno’s ideas about the PMC). In the preceding section we saw that the development of Romance Philology, while providing a more specific context for the PMC, deprived it of its uniqueness. Furthermore, it seemed that its prominence was rather accidental; it happened to be the earliest literary text in Castilian and the earliest romance epic in print, but things could have been different. Most literary historians thought that the truly original beginning of popular Castilian poetry lay in the traditional ballads, although these were copied much later. In such a context, the PMC came to be perceived by some as a mere artistic composition based on the ballads, perhaps inspired by a French model. The consequences of the relative appreciation of these works can be seen in Agustín Durán’s edition of the ballads (1832). He extolls them for their natural, plain style, and for their Homeric candor that vividly represents manners and virtues. In comparison, the PMC is neither the first vernacular poem nor a popular one, but rather it is a piece of artificial, contrived literature that turned out badly, and uncouth in meter and diction, though not wholly deprived of dignity and interest. However, Durán himself lessened this contrast in his later edition of the Romancero in the Biblioteca de Autores Españoles (1849-51). He appended Mocedades de Rodrigo, first edited a few years earlier by Francisque Michel and Ferdinand Wolf. Wolf had found Mocedades to be as primitive as the ballads, and concluded that the PMC was the result of a later, more refined stage of civilization and art. Durán, on the contrary, saw in Mocedades a degenerate piece 26 The praise of the “unity of action” may surprise modern readers who are familiar with the PMC’s double plot; 19th-century critics construed that unity either by underscoring only one of the plots – first, the conquest of Valencia was preferred; later, after Wolf and Milà, the wedding of the Cid’s daughters, their affront and vengeance –, or, in spite of Aristotle (Poetics, VIII), by saying that the poem deals with only one hero. The Canonization of the Poema de mio Cid 509 of work, and associated the PMC to the ballads, that is, to genuinely popular poetry. A new, decisive step was taken by Manuel Milà, whose De la poesía heroicopopular castellana (1874) was a landmark in the development of Spanish Philology according to European standards. Milà reshaped the history of Castilian epic poetry by showing that the original poems were long ones, such as the PMC, Mocedades, and others that left vestiges in medieval chronicles: Infantes de Salas, Cerco de Zamora, etc. He called this tradition cantares de gesta, using an expression found in Alfonsine historiography, which bore a parallel to the term already naturalized in French Philology. Milà argued that the cantares were broken down into shorter independent ballads centuries later. Thus, the fact that the PMC was the earliest extant poem was more than mere contingency; it was essentially a genuine token of aboriginal popular poetry. Milà’s research bears two corollaries. First, since the tradition of the cantares de gesta was native to Spain, French models could not be deemed decisive, although some restricted influence might be admitted. Second, if the poems were composed soon after the deeds they narrate, they were likely to be rather accurate historical records. As a consequence of this, Milà found it necessary to propose an explanation for the PMC section about the wedding of the Cid’s daughters to the infantes de Carrión and the subsequent feud, for he could not admit that it was entirely fictional. The supposed truthfulness of the epic became more significant in the following years, as the realist novel prevailed in Spain. Some novelists found themselves urged to justify their literary tenets by recurring to a Spanish tradition of realism – thereby inventing or shaping it. It was only natural to choose the PMC as the starting point of such a tradition, as did Emilia Pardo Bazán (“La cuestión palpitante”, 1882-83). Forty-odd years later, the idea that realism was essential to Spanish art and was the highest art form had become so commonplace that Ortega y Gasset denounced it as an arbitrary belief.27 Be that as it may, the conditions were favorable for the PMC to be considered the quintessence of Spanish poetry in form as well as in content, and therefore for it to be called the national poem – the national epic the Neo-classicists had longed for. These views were adopted and expatiated upon by the two most influential literary scholars at the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th century, Marcelino Menéndez Pelayo and Ramón Menéndez Pidal. From the many pages they devoted to the PMC, only some paragraphs by Menéndez Pidal will be commented on here (I shall return later to other aspects of his research on the PMC). Contrasting the PMC with the Chanson de Roland and the 27 Ortega y Gasset, “Orígenes del español” (1926), in Obras completas, p. 519. 510 Galván Nibelungenlied, Menéndez Pidal says that the Spanish poem is both national, like the Chanson de Roland, and human, like the Nibelungenlied. He acknowledges that he is exploiting Gaston Paris’ article that I mentioned above, which had been reissued a few years earlier in Poèmes et légendes du Moyen Age. What is noticeable is that Menéndez Pidal substitutes the PMC for the Iliad, which Paris saw as a synthesis of national and human worth as well as a paragon of epic poetry. With regard to realism, Menéndez Pidal stops nothing short of saying that the technique of the PMC is essentially the same as that of Velázquez: “arte supremo que se esconde á los ojos que lo contemplan, para dejar absolutamente clara la visión de la realidad”. The PMC was thus “destinado á ser el poema nacional de España”. He also maps the features of the Chanson de Roland, the Nibelungenlied, and the PMC across centuries, languages, and genres, up to the French classical tragedy, Shakespeare, and the Spanish comedia. Thus, he finds in the medieval epics the germ of the most canonical works.28 When did such a singular status of the PMC reach a wider public, and how? It took a long time to build the channels and make the vehicles to do it. For decades, literary education remained close to the neo-classical prescriptive tradition that it had in the 18th century. The first scattered attempts to introduce notions of literary history either ignored the PMC or were dismissive of it – as far as we can surmise taking into account the textbooks used at the time. Since the 1820s, laws were issued that established literary history as a subject in secondary education, yet there were hardly any textbooks available. Things changed in 1845 with the establishment of schools of Philosophy and Letters as preparatory studies for university degrees. State Secretary of Education Antonio Gil y Zárate authored a textbook that was soon, to nobody’s surprise, widely used and often reprinted. This Manual de literatura praised the tenderness and Homeric naturalness of the PMC, and quoted over twenty verses from the family’s farewell at San Pedro de Cardeña. However, the global assessment was rather negative and denied it the name “poem”. Even though other textbooks appeared in the 1850s that were more favorable to the PMC, it was not until the 1870s when a positive stance prevailed.29 It is worth noting that several literary histories used in schools included summaries and excerpts – most often from the aforesaid farewell and the battle at Alcocer – which confirmed 28 29 For the PMC and Velázquez, see Menéndez Pidal, “El Poema del Cid”, pp. 279-82 (quotations from pp. 281-82); for the connection with early modern plays, see his “Introducción”, pp. 81-82. At the university level, the canonization must have begun earlier, given that several literary historians and critics who had praised the PMC were appointed as professors in the 1840s (Rubió y Ors, Amador de los Ríos, Milà, Fernández Espino). The Canonization of the Poema de mio Cid 511 the traits of religion, individualism, and chivalry most often associated with the PMC. Another significant change in literary education in the 1870s was that prescriptive poetics – and more specifically, genre theory – underwent an idealist and historicist revision and began to consider varieties of epic poetry other than Greek, Roman, and Renaissance. Some went as far as to accommodate the genre or sub-genre of the cantares de gesta, and the PMC became a prototype worth mentioning instead of being a mere aberration, as was the case in earlier studies. Finally, I shall mention other, more contingent forms of institutional support, or lack thereof. If the PMC was to be the Spanish national poem, one might expect that a certain amount of fetishism about its unique manuscript would not be completely out of order. The fuss about the remains of the Cid himself proves sufficiently that such fetishism was indeed possible. The French army sacked the Cid’s tomb in Cardeña in 1808; three diplomats robbed some of his bones, and the rest were transferred to Burgos. The abbot of Cardeña claimed them in 1826 and had them sent back, but after the monastery was dissolved they returned to Burgos to be kept at the town hall, which caused political uneasiness in some circles. Later, one of the French diplomats gave the bones he had to a German prince, who first displayed them in a museum and then decided to return them to Spain. In 1883, the bones were received by the King and Queen of Spain at the Royal Palace; they were taken to Burgos and were carried in a solemn procession to the cathedral and the town hall.30 In contrast, the manuscript of the PMC did not stir such official concerns. After Eugenio de Llaguno managed to obtain it from Vivar around 1779, he handed it down to his heirs, who sold it to Pascual de Gayangos. In 1851, the British Museum made an offer on the manuscript. Gayangos preferred to cash in without the manuscript leaving Spain, so he tried to sell it to the Spanish Government through Pedro Pidal. Since the Government would not spend money on such a trifle, Pidal did; thus, he and his heirs kept the manuscript in their possession until 1960.31 Leaving aside the material object, the text copied on the manuscript was of interest to the Real Academia Española until the end of the century. In the years 1838-1849, a new edition of Tomás Antonio Sánchez’s Colección was planned. Around 1863, the focus had shifted: a group of academics were working on an up-to-date philological edition of the PMC with a thorough introduction 30 31 This bathetic story was told by Nicomedes Pastor Díaz, in El Heraldo (25 August 1842), and by F. M. Tubino in several instalments of La Ilustración Española y Americana, vol. 27 (1883), numbers 8, 9, 11. In 1960, the Juan March Foundation bought the manuscript for the National Library of Spain, which had not been able to afford the asked price. 512 Galván and annotations. Andrés Bello was willing to contribute his materials, still unpublished, but the Academia had the intention of carrying out its own work. José Joaquín de Mora, head of the team, said that they were advanced in their work and it was unlikely that the Academia would ignore their findings. Unfortunately, he was mistaken; the edition did not appear and was not even mentioned in the Academia’s subsequent yearbook. Among other reasons, there were financial problems; the most cherished project of the Academia, an edition of the Quijote which had to be the most ostentatious until that time, was also a failure because of insufficient funds.32 Thus, the readers of the PMC, if there were any, had to resort to a reworking of Sánchez’s edition in volume 57 of the Biblioteca de Autores Españoles prepared by Florencio Janer (1864),33 or perhaps some could access Bello’s edition, printed posthumously in 1881. In those years, there were lectures and discourses that dealt briefly with literary aspects of the PMC in the Real Academia and in the Ateneo de Madrid by José de la Revilla, F. Gonzalo Morón, José Caveda, Pedro J. Pidal, Juan Valera, Francisco de P. Canalejas, and Menéndez Pelayo. In 1895, the Academia announced a prize for a grammar and glossary of the PMC. Its subject, without any allusion to literary issues, shows that the academics wanted to fill a gap with positivistic philological research, so as to stand on the same footing with what was being done in European universities at the time, as I mentioned in the preceding section.34 Ramón Menéndez Pidal, Miguel de Unamuno, and two other scholars took part in the contest, and Menéndez Pidal won. Although the prize included the publication of his work, Menéndez Pidal delayed doing so until he could prepare a critical edition of the text as well. His palaeographic edition appeared in 1898. He continued his research on the relationship between the PMC and medieval chronicles, and finally published the three volumes of Cantar de mio Cid: texto, gramática y vocabulario (1908-11). Thus, the Real Academia prize resulted in a text of the PMC – with significant corrections and additions – that remained authoritative for decades, together with Menéndez Pidal’s conclusions and opinions.35 32 33 34 35 Zamora Vicente, Historia de la Real Academia Española, p. 384. It is worth noting that the Real Academia Española was still searching for the Spanish epic poem; its collection Biblioteca selecta de clásicos españoles starts with a two-volume edition of Ercilla’s Araucana (1866). Janer’s was a new edition, not a mere reissue; he corrected Sánchez’s text by doing a new collation of the manuscript, even if it fell short of the philological standards the Real Academia Española was aiming at in those years. See Montaner, “Un texto para dos filologías”. Even the new title, Cantar de mio Cid – based on Milà’s name for the epic genre –, was widely adopted and is still preferred by many today, not necessarily because they agree The Canonization of the Poema de mio Cid 513 Before drawing some conclusions, it is worth considering that this was also the period when the PMC entered, to a certain degree, the living literary tradition, i.e., it was expressly adopted as intertext or hypotext by several writers dealing with the Cid theme. Antonio de Trueba quoted and paraphrased the PMC in his novel Las hijas del Cid (1859), and so did Vicente Huidobro in his Mio Cid Campeador (1929). Two poems by Manuel Machado are based on the PMC: the well-known “Castilla” (1902) recasts in modernista fashion an episode of the poem’s beginning, and “Alvar Fañez” (1904) summarizes the traits of this character. Eduardo Marquina declared that he decided to write his drama Las hijas del Cid (1908) because of the emotion he felt while reading the PMC, and three pages with excerpts of the poem were appended to the drama in its book format. These works are not unrelated to scholarship. Had Andrés Bello’s edition prevailed – if it had been printed earlier and perhaps in Spain, endorsed by the Real Academia –, it would had barred the way for Machado’s “Castilla”, since Bello substituted a sixty-year-old woman for the nine-year-old girl of the manuscript of the PMC.36 Huidobro acknowledged that he relied on Menéndez Pidal’s edition, even though he modified part of the traditional plot according to his own vision of the Cid’s character. The canonization of the PMC during the second half of the 19th century shows some significant traits. On the one hand, there is a critical canonization similar to what had happened in other countries in the preceding decades. The development of academic philology needed the PMC as raw material; also, the professional and the programmatic stances coalesced: scholars did research on the PMC and praised it as worth reading. Their encomiastic, sometimes bombastic criticism relied partly on belated neo-classicism – unity of action, goodness of characters –, partly on romantic ideas – national spirit, naivety of popular poetry –, and finally on a taste for realism. On the other hand, certain conclusions of Spanish scholars gave the PMC a special place within the canon: it was seen not merely as a good literary work among others, but as the earliest and the only almost complete specimen of the genre that expressed the popu- 36 with Menéndez Pidal’s views. It is noteworthy that the critical editions carried out in the 1970s by Colin Smith and Ian Michael (only the latter had access to the manuscript) were both more conservative than Menéndez Pidal’s and called the text Poema de mio Cid. About medieval labels for literature, see Higashi’s study “Edad Media y genología”. Bello preferred the reading “naña”, found in a medieval chronicle, to “niña” in Sánchez’s edition (he did not see the manuscript). The correction relied explicitly in his taste for verisimilitude: “el razonamiento que sigue se atribuye a una vieja en la Crónica, cap. 91; lo cual es infinitamente mas natural i propio, no habiendo nada en él que no desdiga de una niña” (Bello, Obras completas, p. 205). 514 Galván lar poetic tradition. This prepared the way for its canonization in institutional circles. A canon can only be endowed with an official aura if there is an institutional basis, which in Spain was provided by the educational reforms that introduced Spanish literature as a subject in the 1840s. But it was only decades later, coinciding with the novelties in scholarship mentioned before, that the educational system started to praise and convey a good deal of information about the PMC. From that moment on, one can ask about the functional aspect of the canonization at a broader level. The poem provided stabilization and adaptation not only for scholars but also for the political community at large. However, it is not easy to identify what function the PMC possibly had. The question first has to be rephrased, given that such a text does not function by itself in society, but rather it is an element in the functional subsystem of literature and literary education. Moreover, it is unlikely that we would be able to find evidence for its role, since “literature can only realize its primary function of mediation and compensation under the condition that this function is concealed from society”.37 It has been argued that what makes literature socially perceptible is not its function but precisely the canon – or rather “the classics” in Gumbrecht’s sense. In any case, it is possible to see a particular work appearing synecdochically in a broader context. The PMC was not the most obvious candidate – the Quijote was –, but it did play its part, beginning with Joaquín Costa’s characterization of the Cid – based on the PMC – as a champion for the rule of law (1878),38 followed by Unamuno’s interpretation in En torno al casticismo and Menéndez Pidal’s works culminating in La España del Cid (1929). There were also scattered references in the 1930s: Unamuno used it again in support of a land reform; José Antonio Primo de Rivera quoted a line in the speech for the foundation of the fascist party Falange Española; Valle-Inclán used it to endorse his proposal of a federalist and anarchist constitution for Spain; Antonio Machado interpreted typologically the feud between the Cid and the Infantes de Carrión as foreshadowing the Civil War between workers and señoritos.39 In a final analysis, what matters is not any particular interpretation of the PMC, but the 37 38 39 Gumbrecht, “Phoenix from the Ashes”, p. 158. The fate of Costa’s view of the Cid and the PMC is worth pondering. He wrote at length, for decades, about the Cid as a model for the rule of law. However, he chose once to deprecate the Cid as a symbol of Spanish mystification of national military glory, and said that his tomb should be closed with two keys (Crisis política de España, 1901). As a result, this slogan eclipsed the rest of his work on the Cid. References to Unamuno, Primo de Rivera, Machado, and others are given in Galván, El Poema del Cid en España, pp. 246-49. Valle-Inclán was omitted there; see his Entrevistas, pp. 629-32. Also see Lacarra, “La utilización del Cid”, for its use under Franco’s regime. The Canonization of the Poema de mio Cid 515 fact that people from very different backgrounds refer to it as evidence for a characteristic or a spirit that could bind the nation in its contemporary circumstances. Such was the common ground provided by the PMC and the literary system. 4 The Search for Readers By the end of the 19th century, educated Spaniards ought to have had some notions about the PMC and reasons to appreciate it; yet, if they had set out to read the text, they would not have had an easy time. Tomás Antonio Sánchez’s edition did not make it more available, but rather less unavailable, and it was rarely reprinted in the following hundred years. It may be observed that in this period there were as many editions in Germany – by Schubert, printed twice, and Vollmöller, plus one translation – as in Spain – by Sánchez, Rubió, and Janer. Even Janer’s edition in the Biblioteca de Autores Españoles (vol. 57, in 1864), which had a wide circulation and had received government support, had a preface declaring that volume to be a philological work unlikely to please readers with good taste.40 Menéndez Pidal’s palaeographic edition (1898, reprinted in 1900) did not change essentially this state of affairs. There were some attempts to rewrite it according to contemporary standards. Trueba published a prose rendering of the second half in Semanario pintoresco español (1854); José Vicente Fillol declared in 1861 that he had made a version in ottava rima (!), but refrained from printing it because he liked the original better. Thus, the earliest modernization was published in Chile in the wake of Andrés Bello: Eduardo de la Barra’s El Poema del Cid (1900) – in fact, a full account of the Cid theme – which found no echo in Spain. It was Menéndez Pidal who, after completing the critical edition, went on to prepare a pocket edition of the PMC for the lay public. It was published in the Clásicos Castellanos collection (1913) and was remarkably well designed: the critical text was presented with many explanatory notes and was preceded by an introduction of over 100 pages. It displayed the critical success of the PMC – a selective history of the criticism was included – and it affirmed its artistic and national value. There is no doubt that it was well received, for it was reprinted in 1923, 1929, and later. The next step in the diffusion of the PMC was its modernization – after De la Barra’s attempt – beginning with Alfonso Reyes’ prose rendering that accompanied the ancient text in the Calpe edition of 1919. A version in octosyllabic meter by Pedro Salinas for Revista de Occidente 40 On the Biblioteca de Autores Españoles, see Lara Garrido, “La perversión del canon”. 516 Galván followed in 1926. These works also enjoyed some success and were soon reprinted (Reyes in 1930, 1932; Salinas in 1934; both were frequently printed in the 20th century, and Reyes’ is currently in print). There were also at least three additional editions of the ancient text in those years, but they were not reprinted. One can surmise that the readers wanted either the authoritative one by Menéndez Pidal, or an easier one to read. Furthermore, three different versions for children appeared: by M.ª Luz Morales, Hazañas del Cid Campeador relatadas a los niños (1927); by Ángel Cruz Rueda in his Las gestas heroicas castellanas contadas a los niños (1931); and by Alejandro Casona in his Flor de leyendas (1933, still in print). The PMC finally entered the accessible canon. 5 Concluding Remarks The account given suggests that a certain kind of interpretation was necessary for the PMC to reach recognition beyond the academic sphere. It had to be viewed as relying on a native popular tradition, as expressing the national spirit, and as a realistic and truthful poem. These traits defined somewhat of an “orthodoxy”, as Colin Smith termed it, that persisted for decades, even though the limits between the orthodoxy and the “dissonant voices” are not easy to find.41 Literary criticism based on Menéndez Pidal’s critical text – by far the most available until the 1970s – would even unconsciously adopt his corrections and the assumptions that supported them.42 Some innovative commentaries may be seen as rephrasing or developing the orthodoxy in new theoretical and methodological frames, such as Américo Castro within idealist aesthetics and Dámaso Alonso within stylistics.43 Julián Ribera’s hypothesis that the PMC might have relied on a tradition of Arabic epic poetry sounds disruptive, but it is another way of supporting its autochthonous nature, since Ribera argues that Arabic epics existed only in the Iberian Peninsula and had 41 42 43 See Smith, “Dissonant voices” (I owe this reference to Rus Solera’s review of Galván, El Poema del Cid). For example, a line that Menénez Pidal took from the Estoria de España and added to the critical text, namely “mas a grand ondra tornaremos a Castiella” (l. 15), was quoted by several critics as evidence for the key function of honra in the PMC (see Galván, “A todos alcança ondra”). The case of stylistic criticism applied to the PMC gives a glimpse of the role of the purported orthodoxy, probably related to national boundaries or traditions. Dámaso Alonso (“Estilo y creación”) focused on what he called “realism” in the PMC, in the sense of lifelikeness, whereas Leo Spitzer (“Sobre el carácter histórico”) emphasized its deviance from reality, i.e., its fictionality. The Canonization of the Poema de mio Cid 517 pre-Arabic origins. Attempts to debunk the PMC, such as Julio Cejador’s (in Revue Hispanique, 1920), were quite unusual. Not that everybody liked it, but dismissal was better expressed in an offhand way, like Borges does: Así como en los juegos de azar las cifras pares y las cifras impares tienden al equilibrio, así también se anulan y se corrigen el ingenio y la estolidez, y acaso el rústico poema del Cid es el contrapeso exigido por un solo epíteto de las Églogas o por una sentencia de Heráclito.44 As for the second half of the 20th and the beginning of the 21st century, the PMC’s canonicity does not seem to depend on a definite interpretation like the one I mentioned in the preceding paragraph. Scholars who have made a case for French influence, learned authorship, or imaginative and mythical patterns were certainly not working to dislodge the PMC from the canon;45 neither are those who have recently published interpretations that address gender equality and environmental concerns.46 In fact, it is arguably interpretive activity that allows texts to hold the stage through shifting fashions and significant cultural changes, even if it is not a goal of each and every interpreter.47 It would not be easy to devise a thought experiment as to what might cause the PMC’s demotion from the canon of Spanish and Western literature.48 Perhaps it would be necessary to invoke multiculturalism, political correctness, or other avowedly ideological demands. Or one should go beyond the possible and imagine the PMC proven to be a forgery, Tomás Antonio Sánchez being, after all, a contemporary of James Macpherson. In conclusion, canonicity lies at the intersection of a set of literary facts with academic states of affairs, and it is likely to remain the crux for any neat distinction between the programmatic 44 45 46 47 48 Borges, “El inmortal” (orig. 1947), in El Aleph, p. 21. See, among others, Fradejas, “Intento de comprensión”; Montaner, “El Cid”; Riquer, “Babieca”; Smith, The Making; Zaderenko, Problemas de autoría. See Hernando, Poesía y violencia, pp. 106-23; Scarborough, Inscribing the Environment, pp. 11-24, 79-89. See Starobinski, “Sur les gestes”; Kermode, “Institutional control”; and, in general, Barthes, Critique et vérité. A different issue is raised by Mercedes Vaquero’s claim that the PMC is not prototypical of Castilian epic material (see Vaquero, “The Poema de mio Cid” and her contribution to this volume). In her view, if we are interested in, and want to teach, epic poetry and the epic tradition, Sancho II (Partición de los reinos) and Mocedades de Rodrigo are preferable. Also see Boix, El Cantar de mio Cid. 518 Galván stances of those participating in the literary system and the epistemic stance of those who observe and describe it.49 Works Cited Alonso, Dámaso, “Estilo y creación en el Poema del Cid”, Escorial 8 (1941), 333-72. Altschul, Nadia, Geographies of Philological Knowledge: Postcoloniality and the Transatlantic National Epic, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2012. Aradra Sánchez, Rosa María, De la retórica a la teoría de la literatura (siglos XVIII y XIX), Murcia: Universidad, 1997. Baasner, Frank, Literaturgeschichtsschreibung in Spanien seit den Anfängen bis 1868, Frankfurt: Klostermann, 1995. Banús, Enrique, and Luis Galván, “De cómo Mio Cid y su Poema viajaron a Alemania y retornaron a España: la recepción de una recepción”, La Corónica 28.2 (2000), 21-49. Barthes, Roland, Critique et vérité, Paris: Seuil, 1966. Bayo, Juan Carlos, Review of Galván and Banús, El Poema del Cid en Europa, Medium Aevum 78.1 (2009), 150-51. Bédier, Joseph, Les légendes épiques, vol. 3, Paris: H. Champion, 1912. Bello, Andrés, Obras completas, II: Poema del Cid, Santiago de Chile: Pedro G. Ramírez, 1881. Blanco, Mercedes, Góngora heroico: las “Soledades” y la tradición épica, Madrid: CEEH, 2012. Boix Jovaní, Alfonso, El Cantar de mio Cid: adscripción genérica y estructura tripartita, Vigo: Academia del Hispanismo, 2012. Borges, Jorge Luis, El Aleph, 19th ed., Madrid: Alianza/Emecé, 1990. Brown, Joan L., “Constructing Our Pedagogical Canons”, Pedagogy 10.3 (2010), 535-53. Deyermond, Alan, “Sánchez’s Colección and Percy’s Reliques: The Editing of Medieval Poetry in the Dawn of Romanticism”, in Ann L. Mackenzie (ed.), Spain & Its Literature: Essays in Memory of E. Allison Peers, Liverpool: Liverpool UP, 1997, pp. 171-209. Ehrismann, Otfrid, Das Nibelungenlied in Deutschland, München: Fink, 1975. Ehrismann, Otfrid, Nibelungenlied 1755-1920: Regesten und Kommentare zu Forschung und Rezeption, Giessen: Wilhelm Schmitz, 1986. 49 This paper is part of the Research Project “Current trends of hermeneutics” (FFI201341662-P), funded by the Spanish Ministry of Economics and Competitiveness and the European Regional Development Fund for years 2014-17. I wish to thank Enrique Banús, Andrew Breeze, Peter Mahoney, Alberto Montaner, and Irene Zaderenko for friendly help in matters of form and content. The Canonization of the Poema de mio Cid 519 Fish, Stanley, Is There A Text in This Class?, 9th ed., Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1995. Fowler, Alastair, Kinds of Literature, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1982. Fox, E. Inman, La invención de España, Madrid: Cátedra, 1997. Fradejas Lebrero, José, “Intento de comprensión del Poema de mio Cid”, in Poema de Mio Cid, vol. 2, Burgos: Ayuntamiento, 1982, pp. 245-89. Frye, Northrop, The Critical Path: An Essay on the Social Context of Literary Criticism, Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1971. Gadamer, Hans-Georg, Wahrheit und Methode, 5th ed., Tübingen: Mohr/Siebeck, 1986. Galván, Luis, El “Poema del Cid” en España, 1779-1936: recepción, mediación, historia de la filología, Pamplona: Eunsa, 2001. Galván, Luis, “A todos alcança ondra: consideraciones sobre la honra y la relación del Cid y el rey en el Cantar de mio Cid”, in Alberto Montaner (ed.), Sonando van sus nuevas allent parte del mar: el “Cantar de mio Cid” y el mundo de la épica, Toulouse: CNRS-Université de Toulouse-Le Mirail, 2013, pp. 19-34. Galván, Luis, and Enrique Banús, “Seco y latoso / viejo y venerable: el Poema del Cid a principios del siglo XX”, Rilce 15.1 (1999), 115-40. Galván, Luis, and Enrique Banús, El “Poema del Cid” en Europa: la primera mitad del siglo XIX (Papers of the Medieval Hispanic Research Seminar, 45), London: Department of Hispanic Studies, Queen Mary, University of London, 2004. Grases, Pedro, “La épica española y los estudios de Andrés Bello sobre el Poema del Cid”, in his Obras, vol. 1, Barcelona: Seix Barral, 1981, pp. 335-459. Gumbrecht, Hans U., “Un Souffle d’Allemagne ayant passé: Friedrich Diez, Gaston Paris, and the Genesis of National Philologies”, Romance Philology 40.1 (1986), 1-37. Gumbrecht, Hans U., “Phoenix from the Ashes, or: From Canon to Classic”, New Literary History 20 (1988-89), 141-64. Gumbrecht, Hans U., and Juan J. Sánchez, “Geschichte als Trauma/Literaturgeschichte als Kompensation”, in Hans U. Gumbrecht and Bernard Cerquiglini (eds.), Der Diskurs der Literatur- und Sprachhistorie, Frankfurt: Suhrkamp, 1983, pp. 333-66. Heinzle, Joachim, and Anneliese Waldschmidt (eds.), Die Nibelungen: ein deutscher Wahn, ein deutscher Alptraum, Frankfurt: Suhrkamp, 1991. Hernando, Julio, Poesía y violencia: representaciones de la agresión en el Poema de mio Cid, Palencia: Cálamo, 2009. Higashi, Alejandro, “Edad Media y genología: el caso de las etiquetas de género”, in Lillian von der Walde Moheno (ed.), Propuestas teórico-metodológicas para el estudio de la literatura hispánica medieval, Ciudad de México: UNAM/Universidad Autónoma Metropolitana, 2003, pp. 35-73. Kermode, Frank, “Institutional Control of Interpretation”, Salmagundi 43 (1979), 72-86. Lacarra, María Eugenia, “La utilización del Cid de Menéndez Pidal en la ideología militar franquista”, Ideologies & Literature 3/12 (1980), 95-127. 520 Galván Lara Garrido, José, “La perversión del canon: para una arqueología crítica de la Biblioteca de Autores Españoles”, in Victoriano Gaviño Rodríguez & Fernando Durán López (eds.), Gramática, canon e historia literaria: estudios de Filología española entre 1750 y 1850, Madrid: Visor, 2010, pp. 467-514. Magnotta, Miguel, Historia y bibliografía de la crítica sobre el Poema de mio Cid (1750-1971), Chapell Hill: University of North Carolina, 1976. Menéndez Pidal, Ramón, “El Poema del Cid”, La Lectura 10 (1910), 261-82. Menéndez Pidal, Ramón, “Introducción”, in Poema de Mio Cid, Madrid: La Lectura, 1913, pp. 7-114. Mignolo, Walter D., “Canons A(nd)Cross-Cultural Boundaries (Or, Whose Canon are We Talking about?)”, Poetics Today 12.1 (1991), 1-28. Montaner, Alberto, “El Cid: mito y símbolo”, Boletín del Museo e Instituto Camón Aznar 27 (1987), 121-340. Montaner, Alberto, “Un texto para dos filologías: Unamuno y Menéndez Pidal ante el Cantar de Mio Cid”, in Manuel Galeote & Asunción Rallo Gruss (eds.), La Generación del 98: Relectura de textos, Anejos de Analecta Malacitana, XXIV, Málaga: Universidad, 1999, pp. 41-64 Montaner, Alberto, “En defensa del sentido literal: de la interpretación a la explicación en el estudio de la literatura” in Jesús G. Maestro & Inger Enkvist (eds.), Contra los mitos y sofismas de la “teoría literaria” posmoderna, Vigo: Academia del Hispanismo, 2010, pp. 159-215. Montaner, Alberto, “Factores empíricos en la conformación del canon literario”, Studia Aurea 5 (2011), 49-70. Nerlich, Michael, Untersuchungen zur Theorie des Klassizistischen Epos in Spanien (17001850), Genève: Droz / Paris: Minard, 1964. Ortega y Gasset, José, Obras completas, vol. 3, Madrid: Alianza/Revista de Occidente, 1983. 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Scarborough, Connie, Inscribing the Environment: Ecocritical Approaches to Medieval Spanish Literature, Berlin: De Gruyter, 2013. Smith, Colin, “Los trabajos de Bello sobre el Poema de Mio Cid”, in Bello y Chile, Tercer Congreso del Bicentenario, vol. 2, Caracas: La Casa de Bello, 1981, pp. 61-73. Smith, Colin, The Making of the Poema de mio Cid, Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1983. Smith, Colin, “Dissonant Voices: Some Heterodox Spanish Views of the Poema de mio Cid”, Anuario Medieval 4 (1992), 193-217. Solera López, Rus, Review of Galván, El Poema del Cid, Rilce 18.1 (2002), 158-64. Southey, Robert, Chronicle of the Cid, London: Longman, Hurst, Rees, and Orme, 1808. Spitzer, Leo, “Sobre el carácter histórico del Cantar de mio Cid”, Nueva Revista de Filología Hispánica 2.2 (1948), 105-17. Starobinski, Jean, “Sur les gestes fondamentaux de la critique”, Annales du Centre Universitaire Méditerranéen 25 (1971-72), 71-88. Tötösy de Zepetnek, Steven, Comparative Literature: Theory, Method, Application, Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1998. Valle-Inclán, Ramón María del, Entrevistas, conferencias y cartas, ed. Joaquín and Javier del Valle-Inclán, Valencia: Pre-Textos, 1994. Vaquero, Mercedes, “The Poema de mio Cid and the Canon of the Spanish Epic”, La Corónica 33.2 (2005), 209-30. Vega Ramos, María José and Lara Vilà (eds.), La teoría de la épica en el siglo XVI (España, Francia, Italia y Portugal), Vigo: Academia del Hispanismo, 2010. Wolf, Ferdinand J., Ueber die Romanzen-Poesie der Spanier, Wien: Carl Gerold, 1847. Zaderenko, Irene, Problemas de autoría, de estructura y de fuentes en el Poema de mio Cid, Alcalá de Henares: Universidad, 1998. Zamora Vicente, Alonso, Historia de la Real Academia Española, Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1999. 522 Figure 16.1 Galván Title page of the first edition of the Poema de mio Cid, edited by Tomás Antonio Sánchez (Madrid: Antonio de Sancha, 1779). By Kind Permission of Biblioteca Universitaria De Zaragoza. select bibliography Select Bibliography 523 Select Bibliography Manuscripts The Poema de mio Cid is preserved in a unique manuscript from the 14th century, a parchment codex which is comprised of 74 folios and missing three additional ones: the initial folio and two others between folios 47-48 and 69-70. There are several modern handwritten copies of the 14th-century codex (mostly fragmentary), but unfortunately the missing folios were already lost when the transcriptions were done. Madrid, Biblioteca Nacional de España, Vitr/7/17, in-quarto volume on parchment, 198 × 150 mm, 74 fols. (originally 77), c.1320-30. Madrid, Biblioteca Nacional de España, MSS/6328, in-quarto volume on paper, 211 × 149 mm, 93 fols., 1596, full text transcribed by Juan Ruiz de Ulibarri. Madrid, Biblioteca de la Real Academia de la Historia, Ms. N-34, in-quarto volume on paper, 391 fols., c.1600, transcription of PMC, vv. 1-197. Oviedo, Biblioteca Universitaria de Oviedo, Ms. M-290, in-folio volume on paper, 330 × 230 mm, [89] fols., 18th century, full text. Sevilla, Biblioteca Capitular y Colombina, Ms. 58-4-26, in-quarto volume on paper, 209 × 152 mm, 164 fols., c.1760, transcription of PMC, vv. 1-197. Sevilla, Biblioteca Capitular y Colombina, Ms. 59-2-13, in-folio volume on paper, 301 × 205 mm, [146] fols., 18th century, transcription of PMC, vv. 1-197. Facsimile Editions Poema de Mio Cid, 2 vols., with a paleographic transcription by Ramón Menéndez Pidal, Madrid: Dirección General de Archivos y Bibliotecas, 1961. Poema de Mio Cid, 2 vols., with transcription and studies coordinated by Hipólito Escolar, Burgos: Ayuntamiento de Burgos, 1982. Cantar de Mio Cid: Manuscrito de Per Abbat, multimedia edition with cd-rom, edited by Lourdes Sanz (Tesoros de la Biblioteca Nacional, 1), Madrid: Biblioteca Nacional, 1998. Poema de mio Cid: Edición conmemorativa del VIII Centenario, with a prologue by Alberto Montaner, Madrid: Círculo Científico, 2007. Poema del Cid (Biblioteca Digital Hispánica), Madrid: Biblioteca Nacional de España, [n. d.] <http://bdh-rd.bne.es/viewer.vm?id=0000036451>. © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004363755_019 524 Select Bibliography First Publication Poema del Cid, in Colección de poesías castellanas anteriores al siglo XV, vol. 1, edited by Tomás Antonio Sánchez, Madrid: Antonio de Sancha, 1779, pp. 220-404. Critical Editions Cantar de mio Cid: Texto, gramática y vocabulario, edited by Ramón Menéndez Pidal, 3 vols., Madrid: Bailly-Baillière, 1908-11; revised edition, Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1944-46. Poema de mio Cid, edited by Colin Smith, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1972; Spanish version, Madrid: Cátedra, 1976; revised editions, 1985 and 1994. The Poem of the Cid: A New Critical Edition of the Spanish Text, edited by Ian Michael, translated by Rita Hamilton and Janet Perry, Manchester, U.K.: Manchester University Press, 1975; reprint, New York: Viking Penguin, 1984; Spanish version, Madrid: Castalia, 1976; revised edition, 1978. Cantar de mio Cid, edited and translated by Jules Horrent, 2 vols., Gand: Story-Scientia, 1982. Chanson de Mon Cid = Cantar de Mio Cid, edited and translated by Georges Martin, Paris: Aubier, 1996. Cantar de Mio Cid, edited by Francisco Marcos Marín, Madrid: Biblioteca Nueva, 1997. Poema de Mio Cid, edited by Leonardo Funes, Buenos Aires: Colihue, 2007. Cantar de mio Cid, edited by Alberto Montaner, preliminary study by Francisco Rico, Barcelona: Crítica, 1993; revised editions, Barcelona: Galaxia Gutenberg, 2007, and Madrid: Real Academia Española, 2011; corrected reprint with bibliographical additions, 2016. Online Editions Cantar de mio Cid, edited by Matthew Bailey, Austin: University of Texas, 2002, <http:// miocid.wlu.edu/>. Cantar de Mio Cid, edited by María del Carmen Gutiérrez Aja and Timoteo Riaño Rodríguez, Madrid: Fundación Biblioteca Virtual Miguel de Cervantes, [n. d.]. <http://www.cervantesvirtual.com/portales/cantar_de_mio_cid/>. Select Bibliography 525 Translations into Modern Spanish Poema del Cid, prose translation by Alfonso Reyes, Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1919. Poema de Mio Cid, verse translation by Pedro Salinas, Madrid: Revista de Occidente, 1926. Poema del Cid, verse translation by Francisco López Estrada, New York: Eliseo Torres, 1955; Valencia: Castalia, 1955. Poema de mio Cid, prose translation by Cedomil Goic, Santiago: Universidad de Santiago de Chile, 1955. Poema de mio Cid, verse translation by A. Manent, Barcelona: Juventud, 1968. Cantar de Mio Cid, verse translation by Francisco Marcos Marín, Madrid: Alhambra, 1985. Cantar de mio Cid, verse translation by Alberto Montaner Frutos, prologue by Ramón Menéndez Pidal (Biblioteca Universal-Clásicos Españoles), Barcelona: Círculo de Lectores, 1999. English Translations Poem of the Cid, translated by J. Ormsby, London: Langmans, 1879. Poem of the Cid, 3 vols., translated by Archer M. Huntington, New York: Putnam, 1897-1903. Poem of the Cid, translated by Lesley B. Simpson, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1957. The Poem of the Cid, translated by W.S. Merwin, London: Dent, 1959; reprint, New York: New American Library, 1962. The Epic of the Cid, translated by J. Gerald Markley, Indianapolis and New York: BobbsMerrill, 1961. The Poem of the Cid: A New Critical Edition of the Spanish Text, edited by Ian Michael, translated by Rita Hamilton and Janet Perry, Manchester, U.K.: Manchester University Press, 1975; reprint, New York: Viking Penguin, 1984. The Poem of My Cid (Poema de Mio Cid), translated by Peter Such and John Hodgkinson, Warminster, U.K.: Aris and Phillips, 1987. Poem of the Cid, translated by Paul Blackburn, New York: American R.D.M. Corporation, 1966; reprinted with a foreword by George Economou and an introduction by Luis Cortest, Norman, Oklahoma: University of Oklahoma Press, 1998. The Song of the Cid: A Dual-Language Edition with Parallel Text, translated by Burton Raffel, introduction and notes by María Rosa Menocal, New York: Penguin, 2009. 526 Select Bibliography The Epic of The Cid: With Related Texts, translated by Michael Harney, with selections from a wide variety of other contemporary texts, Indianapolis, Cambridge: Hackett Publishing, 2011. Index Index 527 Index Abajo, Francisco de (municipal clerk of Vivar) 51 ʿAbdalbadīʿ, Luṭfīʿ 174n16, 178 Adams, Kenneth 21n36, 35, 190n14, 204 Aguilar Piñal, Francisco 79 Aguirre, José María 216n77, 237 Alberro, Manuel 236n71, 238 Alcalá, Pedro de 173n11 Alcalá Galiano, Antonio 502, 508 Alemany, Rafael 459, 494 Alfonso II of Aragon 300-01, 309, 314 Alfonso V of León 403 Alfonso V of Portugal 484 Alfonso VI of Castile and León 4, 11, 96, 297-98, 309-10, 314, 320, 324, 349-50, 393, 404, 414-19, 422-24, 428, 431, 436, 442-43, 445, 447-52, 455, 461, 464n2, 467, 471, 478-79, 481-82 Alfonso VII of Castile and León 7, 297, 299, 306, 308, 310, 324, 364, 473 Alfonso VIII of Castile 92, 122, 126, 132, 173n11, 298-314, 324, 338, 343, 364, 371, 388, 396-397, 402, 444-445, 479 Alfonso X of Castile and León 10, 11, 32-34, 43-44, 52, 54n36, 57-58, 108, 114, 122, 133, 184, 265-66, 323, 343, 349, 365n55, 366, 372, 381-82, 412-27, 439, 449, 453-55, 464, Alfonso XI of León 455 Alfonso de Cartagena 453, 488-89 Alfonso de Castilla (Prince) 483 Almanzor (Almanṣūr billāh) 468 Alonso, Dámaso 104-05, 111, 225, 236n71, 238, 516, 518 Alonso, Pedro (municipal clerk of Vivar) 51 Althoff, Gerd 348n, 372 Altschul, Nadia R. 69n89, 79, 505n20, 518 Alvar, Carlos 36, 80, 238, 243, 407, 456, 458, 460, 495 Alvar, Manuel 206 Álvarez Borge, Ignacio 299, 316 Álvarez de Toledo, Fernando 471 Álvarez de Toledo, Gutierre 471 Álvaro de Luna (see Luna, Álvaro de) Alvira Cabrer, Martín 309n66, 315 Amador de los Ríos, José 93-94, 110n65, 111, 193n18, 204, 507, 510n29 Andrés, Juan 501-03 Angers, Bernard of (see Bernard of Angers) Anselm, St. 249 Aquinas, St. Thomas 248 Aradra Sánchez, Rosa María 498n3, 499n8, 518, 520 Arcipreste de Hita (see Juan Ruiz) Ariosto, Ludovico 502 Ariza Viguera, Manuel 146n14, 166 Armistead, Samuel G. 57n45, 58n50, 79, 387, 388n46, 390, 393, 405, 450n95, 451n98, 456, 480n33, 494 Arranz Guzmán, Ana 323n8, 343 Avalle-Arce, Juan Bautista 486n48, 493 Ayala Martínez, Carlos de 308n58, 315, 323n7, 344 Baasner, Frank 499n8, 518 Badía Margarit, Antonio M. 179, 420n15, 456 Bailey, Matthew 20n33, 30-31, 35, 186n6, 218n23, 250n14, 256n39 and 41, 267, 290n29, 395n86, 405, 524 Bakker, Egbert 256n40, 257, 265n74 and 75, 267 Banús, Enrique 380n4, 407, 498n1, 507n25, 518-19 Barcelos, Pedro de (Count) 442-43, 452, 465, 491 Baret, Eugène 506 Barra, Eduardo de la 515 Barrero García, Ana María 311n72, 315 Barrio Sánchez, José Antonio 493 Barthes, Roland 517n47, 518 Barton, Simon 4n2, 8n11, 13n26, 35, 298n6 and 7, 303n35, 305n44, 306n46 and 48-50, 307n54, 313n79 and 82, 315-16, 350n19, 372, 397n94, 405 Baury, Ghislain 313n82, 316 Bautista Pérez, Francisco 9n15, 34n60, 36, 55n40, 56n42, 58n46 and 48-49, 60n58, 227n57, 238, 311n74, 316, 337n62, 344, 350, 361n42, 372, 384n27, 395n84, 399n101, 405, 414n2, 422n21, 429n39, 431n42, 439n65, 440n67, 442n69, 446n83, 452n102 and 103, 456, 464n1, 490n62, 494 © Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2018 | doi 10.1163/9789004363755_020 528 Bayo Julve, Juan Carlos 18n30, 19n31 and 32, 20n33, 49n16, 53n30, 54n35, 65n76, 67, 70n94, 71n96, 104n73, 73n104 and 105, 74-76, 78n118 and 119, 78n121, 80, 141n6, 190n15, 194n20, 199n24, 205, 258n51, 267, 381n6, 387n37, 389, 392n64, 394-398, 406, 507n25, 518 Beceiro Pita, Isabel 473n20, 494 Bédier, Joseph 69n89, 97, 102, 104-05, 111, 505n21, 518 Behaghel, Otto 186, 187n7, 205 Bellini, Giuseppe 240 Bello, Andrés 93, 111, 202, 205, 504-05, 512-13, 515, 518 Belmonte Serrano, José 241 Beltrán, Rafael 492 Beltrán y Rózpide, Ricardo 493 Berceo, Gonzalo de (see Gonzalo de Berceo) Berganza, Francisco de 499 Bermudo III of León 466 Bernáldez, Andrés 484, 486n49, 492 Bernard d’Angers 249 Bernard de Clairvaux, St. 249 Bernardo de Sédirac (Archbishop of Toledo) 323 Bernardo de Sigüenza (Bishop) 323 Bianchini, Janna 302n29, 316 Bianciotto, Gabriel 241 Bizzarri, Hugo Oscar 51n20, 80 Blackburn, Paul 525 Blair, Hugh 502 Blanca Garcés de Navarra 479 Blanco, Martín (municipal clerk of Vivar) 51 Blanco, Mercedes 501n14, 518 Blázquez y Delgado-Aguilera, Antonio 493 Blecua, José Manuel 344 Blecua Perdices, José Manuel 70n94, 71n95, 80 Bly, Peter A. 224n42, 238 Bodmer, Johann Jakob 502 Boix Jovaní, Alfonso 18n29, 33n55, 36, 275, 283n19, 288-89, 291, 386, 406, 417n5, 426n33, 427n34, 429n39, 438n59, 459, 517n48, 518 Boni, Marco 244 Borges, Jorge Luis 517, 518 Bouterwek, Friedrich 503 Bowra, Cecil M. 277n14, 291 Index Boyle, Leónard E. 66n78 and 79, 69n87, 80 Bremer, Jean 241 Brío Carretero, Clara del 220n30, 239, 381, 407 Brown, Joan L. 498n3, 518 Brundage, James A. 356n36, 372 Buchholz, Friedrich 503 Burke, James F 355, 373 Burke, Michael 68n85, 80 Burns, Norman T. 240 Burshatin, Israel 312, 313n79 and 80, 316 Burt, John R. 224n42, 238 Busby, Keith 103, 111 Bustos, María del Mar de 38, 442n73, 456 Cabral de Moncada, Luis 364, 373 Cacho Blecua, Juan Manuel 213n12, 214n14, 238 Caldera, Ermanno 225n52, 232, 233n65, 234n67, 235n69, 236, 238 Calderón Medina, Inés 303n34, 304n39, 305n44, 306n45-47 and 50-51, 316 Campa, Mariano de la 58n46, 80, 415n3, 417n7, 441n68, 456-57 Canalejas, Francisco de Paula 512 Canfora, Luciano 67n82, 80 Cano Aguilar, Rafael 124, 134, 167 Canterbury, Eadmer of (see Eadmer of Canterbury) Carcereri, Luciano 244 Carlé, María del Carmen 324n11, 325n13, 344 Carlos de Viana 479-80, 492 Carriazo Rubio, Juan Luis 493 Carrillo, Alonso (Archbishop of Toledo) 477 Carruthers, Mary 248, 249n6 and 10, 250, 267 Casalduero, Joaquín 213n12, 238 Casona, Alejandro 516 Castelli, Clara 240 Castillo Cáceres, Fernando 242 Castro, Américo 516 Catalán, Diego 9n13, 36, 38, 53n33, 57n45, 80, 138n1, 144-45, 164-66, 382n15 and 16, 383, 384n29, 387n43, 388n45 and 46, 389n49, 390-91, 392n61, 395n81, 402, 406, 408, 413n1, 414n2, 416n4, 417n5-7, 418n9, 419n11-12, 420, 421n17-18, 422, 423n24 and 26, 425n30, 426n32-33, 427, 428n38, 430n40, 431n45, 434, 439n64 and 66, Index 441n69, 442n70, 443n74, 444n76, 445n79, 446, 447n86-87, 448n88-89, 449n90-91, 451n95 and 98, 457, 459, 480n34, 494 Cátedra, Pedro M. 83-84 Catholic Kings (see Fernando V and Isabel I) Caveda, José 512 Cejador, Julio 517 Cerdá, Francisco 499 Chafe, Wallace L. 30, 256-67 Chalon, Louis 387, 406, 415n3, 417n5, 444n78, 446n82, 457 Chaplin, Margaret 21n35, 36 Charlo Brea, Luis 299n10, 315 Chiarini, Giorgio 71n96 Cintra, Luís Filipe Lindley 442n72, 452n103-05, 457 Cirot, Georges 434n51, 457 Clairvaux, Bernard de (see Bernard de Clairvaux, St.) Clanchy, M.T. 248n4-5, 249n8, 267 Clarke, Dorothy C. 230n59, 238 Clemencín, Diego 502n15 Clement (Benedictine monk from the Lessay Abbey) 104 Coello Mesa, María Antonia 159n23, 166 Cohen, Rip 177n23, 178 Coleridge, Samuel T. 504 Colmeiro, Manuel 364, 373 Company, Concepción 37 Conde López, Juan Carlos 168, 224n42, 238, 318, 466n3-5, 493-94 Conti, Juan Bautista 501 Contini, Gianfranco 69n89, 80 Corfis, Ivy A. 226n57, 238 Cornu, Jules 188, 507 Corominas / Coromines, Joan 169n4, 172, 177, 178 Corominas, Pedro 349 Corriente, Federico 6n8, 18n30, 29n44, 65n74, 79n122, 80, 170n3, 172n9, 175n18-19, 179-80 Cortest, Luis 525 Costa, Joaquín 514 Criado de Val, Manuel 84, 206 Cruz Rueda, Ángel 516 Curtius, Ernst Robert 212n11, 226n55, 238 D’Agostino, Alfonso 58n50, 71n96 and 98, 80 529 Damas-Hinard, Jean-Joseph S.A. 288, 291, 505-06 Danielwicz, Jane 256n44, 257n45-47, 258n53, 259n56, 267 Dante Alighieri 282, 474, 501 De Chasca, Edmund 21n35, 36, 216n17, 219n29, 223n37, 226n54, 230n59, 236n71, 238 De Hamel, Christopher 44n3, 80 De Nigris, Carla 493 Derolez, Albert 44n3, 45n7, 46n8-10, 47n13, 48n14-15, 81 Dethier, Fred 238 Deyermond, Alan D. 213, 226, 238, 239, 240, 244 Di Camillo, Ottavio 106n54 Di Stefano, Giuseppe 389-90, 391n58, 393n70, 406 Díaz de Durana, José Ramón 329n30, 344, 495 Díaz de Games, Gutierre 468-69, 488, 492 Díaz de Toledo, Gutierre 485 Díaz de Vivar Sandoval Hurtado de Mendoza, Rodrigo (VII Duke of the Infantado) 487, 492 Díaz de Vivar y Mendoza, Rodrigo (I Marquis of Cenete) 485-87, 491-92 Díaz-Mas, Paloma 391n58, 406 Díaz-Regañón, José María 239 Díaz Roig, Mercedes 391n58, 406 Diego de Burgos 473-74 Diego García / de Campos 127 Diego López de Haro 313 Dietrick, Déborah 38 Diez, Friedrich 503n17, 504 Díez Calleja, Beatriz 134 Díez Garretas, María Jesús 38, 489n56, 494 Dieze, Johann Andreas 503 Dillard, Heath 353, 373 Domínguez Aparicio, Jesús 44n3, 84 Doubleday, Simon 299n14, 305n44, 306n45, 316 Dozy, Reinhart 506 Drury, Tom 444n78, 457 Duby, Georges 322n1, 344, 356n35, 357n38, 373 Duffell, Martin J. 71n97, 81 Duggan, Joseph J. 5, 36, 100n34, 112, 230n59, 236n71, 238, 261n60, 268, 298n6, 303, 313, 530 Duggan, Joseph J. (cont.) 314n84, 316, 331n39, 344, 360n41, 373, 381n6, 388, 395n81, 396, 402, 406 Dunham, Samuel 504 Durán, Agustín 507-08 Durán López, Fernando 520 Dutton, Brian 30n46, 33n57, 36, 268, 492 Dyer, Nancy Joe 58n51, 81, 195n21, 205, 266n78, 415n3, 418n8, 419n11, 420n16, 421n18 and 20, 457 Eadmer of Canterbury 249 Economou, George 525 Ehrismann, Otfrid 497n2, 503n16, 518 Eichhorn, Johann Gottfried 503 Enrique IV of Castile and León 467, 477-83, 485, 491 Enrique of Aragón (Prince) 465 Enrique-Arias, Andrés 167 Enríquez del Castillo, Diego 467 Entwistle, William J. 379, 382n16, 406, 426n32, 430n40, 458 Epalza, Mikel de 171n6-7, 180 Escalona Monge, Julio 9n13, 36 Escavias, Pedro de 478-79, 492 Escobar, Ángel 7n10, 38, 109, 112, 350n16, 373-74 Escolar Sobrino, Hipólito 84, 407, 523 Espinosa Elorza, Rosa 149n17, 167 Esposito, Anthony P. 227n57, 239 Estepa Díez, Carlos 299n11, 316 Falque Rey, Emma 298n6, 303n34, 315, 360n15, 372 Fernán González (Count of Castile) 96-97, 110, 399, 453, 468, 470, 474, 477-78, 485 Fernández Bernaldo de Quirós, Joaquín 242 Fernández de Benadeva, Alfonso 488 Fernández de Córdoba, Gonzalo (El Gran Capitán) 488 Fernández de Heredia, Juan (see Juan Fernández de Heredia) Fernández de Oviedo, Gonzalo 486, 493 Fernández Ferreiro, María 458 Fernández Gallardo, Luis 471n16, 489n57, 494 Fernández Madrid, María Teresa 485n45, 494 Index Fernández-Ordóñez, Inés 122n2, 132, 134, 152n19, 154n21, 165n31, 167, 397-98, 406, 414n2, 415n3, 418n10, 423n25 and 27, 441n68, 458 Fernández Rodríguez, Natalia 458 Fernández Rodríguez-Escalona, Guillermo 220n30, 239, 381, 407 Fernández Valverde, Juan 299n9, 315 Fernando I of Austria 490 Fernando I of Castile and León 4, 33n59, 250, 382, 392n61, 393, 404, 413-14, 416-17, 441-42, 447-49, 452, 455, 461, 464n2, 465-66, 468, 471, 473, 476, 478, 481, 489 Fernando II of León 299-301, 305-07, 415 Fernando III of Castile and León 302, 388n44, 415, 441-42, 468 Fernando IV of Castile and León 416, 446 Fernando V of Castile and León, and Fernando II of Aragón 490-91 Fernando Núñez de Lara 305 Fernando Rodríguez de Castro 300 Ferrando, Ignacio 173n11, 180 Ferruz, Pero 469 Figueras i Capdevila, Narcis 350n16, 373 Figueroa, José Lorenzo 508 Fillol, José Vicente 515 Finnegan, Ruth 251n15, 268 Fiorentino, Francesco 244 Fish, Stanley 498n6, 519 Fita, Fidel 302n28, 303n34, 316 Fleckenstein, Josef 245 Fleischman, Suzanne 202n29, 205, 247n2, 266n79, 268 Fletcher, Richard 4n1, 35-36, 298n6, 305, 308, 315-16, 397n34, 405 Florán, Juan 505 Floranes, Rafael 91-92, 112, 500 Foley, John Miles 254, 255n35, 268 Folsom, Rose 44n3, 81 Fontes, Manuel da Costa 391-92, 407 Forey, Alan J. 308n58, 316 Formisano, Luciano 75n112, 78n117, 81 Forner, Juan Pablo 497 Foulché-Delbosc, Raymond 471n17, 494 Fowler, Alastair 498n4, 500n13, 519 Fox, E. Inman 499n8, 519 Fradejas Lebrero, José 402, 407, 417n5, 458, 517n45, 519 Index Fradejas Rueda, José Manuel 38, 80 Frago Gracia, Juan Antonio 161, 167 Franco, Francisco 514n39 Frauenrath, Mireille 213n13, 239 Friedman, Norman 213n13, 239 Fruela II of Asturias 348, 415, 441, 452, 455 Frye, Northrop 498n7, 519 Funes, Leonardo 12n23-24, 13n25, 24n39, 28n43, 36, 64n71, 71n96, 73n104, 75n112, 81, 83, 199n25, 205, 342n85, 400, 401n107, 407, 524 Gadamer, Hans-Georg 499n9, 519 Galderisi, Claudio 241 Galmés de Fuentes, Álvaro 174n16, 180, 208n3, 226n53, 239 Galván, Luis 33n55, 36, 57n44, 81, 90n3, 251n16, 380n4, 407, 498n1, 502n15, 507n25, 514n39, 516n41-42, 518-19 Gambra, Andrés 4n1, 36 García I of Galicia 467 Garcia, Michel 84, 492 García de Salazar, Lope 453, 480-82, 493 García Fitz, Francisco 309n66, 310n67, 317 García Gil, Juan José 10n16, 36 García Isasti, Prudencio 297n3, 317 García López, María Cruz 224n43, 239, 476n24, 495 García Montoro, Adrián 208n3, 239 García Ramírez of Navarre 479 García Sánchez III of Pamplona 467 García Turza, Claudio 131n7, 134 García Turza, Javier 131n7, 134 García Ulecia, Alberto 311n71, 317 García Yebra, Valentín 193n18, 205 Garci-Gómez, Miguel 208n3, 223n37, 232n63, 239, 272n3, 291, 384n29, 385n31, 386, 407 Gargano, Antonio 210n6, 222n32, 226n53, 233n66, 239 Gaudemet, Jean 356n34, 373 Gaviño Rodríguez, Victoriano 520 Gayangos, Pascual de 511 Geary, John S. 225n50, 239 Geijerstam, Regina af 54n36, 81 Geladi, Paul 62n63, 81 Genette, Gérard 207, 208, 239 Génin, François 506 531 Gerbet, Marie-Claude 324n10, 344 Gil Aristu, José Luis 245 Gil de Zamora, fray Juan 471n16, 478 Gil y Zárate, Antonio 510 Gilman, Stephen 24n41, 36, 216n17 and 19, 239 Gimeno Casalduero, Joaquín 355n30, 357n39, 373 Girón Alconchel, José Luis 223n36, 224n45, 225n50, 239 Godinas, Laurette 242 Goic, Cedomil 525 Gombrich, Ernst 286 Gómez, Jesús 206, 406, 458 Gómez-Bravo, Ana M. 73n103, 81, 193n18, 205 Gómez Lorente, Manuel 485n45, 486n46, 487n52, 495 Gómez-Moreno, Manuel 492 Gómez Pérez, José 485n45, 486n46, 487n52, 495 Gómez Redondo, Fernando 34n60, 238, 243, 384n27 and 29, 385, 388n43, 395n83, 407, 419n12, 458, 460, 468n9, 484n43, 489n5859, 490n64, 495 Gončarenko, S.F. 70n93, 81 González, Aurelio 37, 227n58, 239 González, Cristina 230n59, 239 González, Julio 299n11-12, 300n16-21, 301n22-25, 302n29, 303n34, 304n38, 305n44, 307n45-48, 307n52 and 55, 308n60, 309n63, 317, 364n51-52, 373 González Cuenca, Joaquín 492 González de Mendoza, Pedro (El Gran Cardenal) 475, 485-86, 488, 491 González Ollé, Fernando 145, 167 Gonzalo de Berceo 33, 90-91, 108, 123, 130-31, 146, 149, 152, 157, 174-76, 250, 500 Gonzalo Morón, Fermín 512 Gonzalo Núñez de Lara 305 Gornall, John 24n40, 36-37, 197n22, 205, 215n15, 239, 392, 408 Gracia Alonso, Paloma 112 Grahn, Hans 62n63, 81 Gran Capitán (see Fernández de Córdoba, Gonzalo) Grases, Pedro 505n20, 519 Grassotti, Hilda 307n55, 317, 338n64, 344, 348n4 and 7, 349, 364n51, 373, 532 Greetham, D.C. 44n3, 66n77, 69n88, 81 Greimas, Algirdas J. 282, 291 Grigsby, John L. 217, 240 Grocheio, Johannes de (see Jean de Grouchy) Guadix, Diego de 173 Guglielmi, Nilda 312n76, 317, 361n43, 373 Guillén de Ávila, Diego 489, 493 Gumbrecht, Hans Ulrich 498n5, 499n8, 503n17, 505n21, 514, 519 Gurevič, Aron Ja. 212n10, 240 Gutierre de Segovia (Bishop) 323 Gutiérrez Aja, María del Carmen 49n16, 84, 409, 524 Ḥafṣ b. Albar Alqūṭī 177 Hallam, Henry 504 Hamilton, Rita 223n37, 240, 408, 524-25 Harney, Michael 526 Hart, Thomas R. 226n55, 230n59, 236n71, 240, 284, 286, 291 Harvey, L.P. 254, 268 Hathaway, Robert L. 223n37, 240 Hegel, Georg W. F. 504 Heinemann, Edward A. 74n109, 81 Heinzle, Joachim 497n2, 519 Hempel, Wido 223n36, 240 Hendrickson, William L. 226n55, 241 Henriet, Patrick 437n56, 458 Herder, Johann Gottfried 503 Heredia, Juan Fernández de (see Juan Fernández de Heredia) Héritier, Françoise 337n59, 344 Hernández, Francisco J. 122, 131-34, 166-67, 313, 314n83, 317, 402, 408 Hernández Alonso, César 167, 291, 374, 494 Hernández de Mendoza, Diego 476-77 Hernando, Julio 517n46, 519 Hernando Pérez, José 173n11, 180 Herslund, Michael 21n36, 37 Hess, Rainer 239 Higashi, Alejandro 9n14, 37, 50n18, 81, 513n35, 519 Hijano Villegas, Manuel 417n7, 425n30, 426n33, 427n34, 430n40, 431n42, 437n55, 439n66, 440n67, 441n69, 442n73, 443n74-75, 446, 456n106, 458 Hinojosa, Eduardo de 349, 368n58, 369n64, 372-73 Index Hodgkinson, John 525 Homer 252, 255, 502 Hook, David 21n36, 37, 58n52, 81, 134, 184n2, 205, 223n37, 224n43, 240 Horace (Horatius) 500n12 Horrent, Jules 222, 240, 524 Huber, Victor Aimé 504 Huici Miranda, Ambrosio 309n64 and 66, 317 Huidobro, Vicente 513 Huntington, Archer M. 525 Huppé, Bernard F. 226n53, 240 Hurtado de Mendoza, Diego (I Count of Mélito) 488 Hurtado de Mendoza, Diego (I Duke of the Infantado) 473, 477 Hurtado de Mendoza, Pedro 486 Ibn Quzmān, Abū Bakr Muḥammad 177 Iglesia Duarte, José Ignacio de la 344, 409 Iglesia Ferreirós, Aquilino 365n55, 373 Innocent III (Pope) 302, 309 Isabel I of Castile and León 482-84, 491 Isidore, St. 250 Izquierdo Benito, Ricardo 309n64, 317 Jakobson, Roman 219n25, 240 Janer, Florencio 497, 512, 515 Jean de Grouchy (Johannes de Grocheio) 104 Jerez, Enrique 457 Johnston, Robert M. 288n25, 291 Jones, J.R. 36 Juan II of Aragon 470, 479 Juan II of Castile and León 463, 465-66, 468, 477, 483, 491 Juan de Ávila (Bishop) 323 Juan Fernández de Heredia 54n36 Juan Manuel 121, 324n12, 344, 415, 442, Juan of Osma (Bishop) 304 Juan Ruiz (Archpriest of Hita) 175, 178, 500 Juana of Castile 484 Juana of Portugal 485 Jubinal, Achille 505 Jular Pérez-Alfaro, Cristina 488n54, 495 Justel Vicente, Pablo 21n35-36, 25n38, 30n46 and 48, 37, 74n109, 81, 278n16, 291 Kantor, Sofía 273, 281, 291 Index Kaplan, Gregory B. 232n63, 240 Keller, Hans-Erich 242, 292 Kennedy, Elspeth 67n82, 81 Kennedy, Hugh 308n59, 317 Kermode, Frank 498n6, 517n47, 519 Koerbs, Ferdinand 507 Kothari, C.R. 69n89, 81 Labère, Nelly 238 Lacarra, María Eugenia (Eukene Lacarra Lanz) 15n27, 67, 78, 79n121, 81, 101, 222n34, 234n68, 240, 303, 307n53, 312n76, 317, 332n42, 344, 348n3, 349n12, 354n29, 362n44, 367n56, 373-74, 380n5, 388n44, 402, 404, 408, 514n39, 520 Lacarra de Miguel, José María 325n13, 344, 367n57, 374 Lacomba, Marta 417n5, 426n33, 429n39, 444n78, 447n86, 458 Lafuente, Modesto 507 Lampillas, Xavier 502 Lang, Henry R. 188n9 Lapesa, Rafael 38, 82, 138n1, 145, 148, 154n21, 158n22, 162, 164-65, 167, 216n17, 241 Lara Garrido, José 515n40, 520 Laso de la Vega, García 482 Lawrance, Jeremy 386n34, 408, Layna Serrano, Francisco 487n52, 495 Le Goff, Jacques 226n56, 241, 338n65, 344 Le Guellec, Maud 495 Leclercq, Jean 357n38, 374 Lemos, Mencía de 485, 488 Leonard, William E. 188n12, 205 Leverage, Paula 104, 112 Lévi-Strauss, Claude 282, 291 Lidforss, Eduardo / Edvard 272n3, 291, 507 Linares, Julio 243 Linehan, Peter 300n15 and 18, 309n64, 310n67, 316-17 Lintvelt, Jaap 213n13, 241 Lista, Alberto 502 Llaguno, Eugenio de 56, 500, 511 López, Francisco (municipal clerk of Vivar) 51 López de Abiada, José Manuel 241 López de Ayala, Pero 469 López de Mendoza, Íñigo 471, 473-75, 482, 485, 487 533 López Estrada, Francisco 226n53-54, 236n71, 241, 525 López Ortiz, J. 364, 374 López-Vidriero, María Luisa 84 Lord, Albert Bates 252n22, 253-55, 266-68 Lorenzo, Ramón 442n72, 458 Lourie, Elena 311, 317 Lucas de Tuy 250, 303n34, 315, 413, 453 Lucía Megías, José Manuel 80, 112, 206, 410, 456 Luis Corral, Fernando 300n19, 317 Luna, Álvaro de 463, 465, 468-71, 491 Luongo, Salvatore 10n19, 17n28, 24n39, 25n42, 37, 210n6, 241, 263n71 Machado, Antonio 514 Machado, Manuel 513 MacKay, Angus 484n42, 495 Macpherson, James 517 Magdalena, J.R. 173n11, 180 Magnotta, Miguel 497n1, 520 Mair Yaḥya ibn Ġālib 173n11 Makkī, Ṭāhir Aḥmad 171n7, 180 Mallorquí Ruscalleda, Enric 226n54, 241 Manent, A. 525 Manrique, Gómez 473, 475, 477, 482-83, 485 Manrique, Jorge 472, 483 Manrique, Rodrigo 482-83, 485, 491 Manṣūr billāh, Abū ʿAmīr Muḥammad b. Abī ʿAmir, Al- (see Almanzor) Manuel, Juan (see Juan Manuel) Manzanaro, Josep Miquel 459, 494 Marcos Marín, Francisco A. 103n73, 81, 138n2, 139n3, 141, 145, 164-65, 167, 174n16, 180, 208n3, 241, 402, 408, 524-25 María de Molina 491 Marín Sanchez, Ana María 493 Markley, J. Gerald 525 Marquina, Eduardo 513 Martin, Georges 13n25, 67, 78n119, 79n121, 82, 84, 238, 243, 275, 291, 298n7, 308, 318, 324n10-12, 325n14, 327n20, 330n32, 342n85, 343n87, 345-46, 399n99, 401, 402, 407-08, 447n86, 448n89, 458, 460, 495, 524 Martín, Óscar 12n22, 37, 395-96, 398, 408 Martín Daza, Carmen 112 Martín López de Pisuerga (Archbishop of Toledo) 127, 129 534 Martín Martín, José Luis 10n16, 37, 298n7, 315 Martin of León, St. 250 Martín Rodríguez, José Luis 310n70, 318, 409 Martín Sanz, Demetrio 38 Martín Vidaller, Carmen 132n9, 134 Martín Zorraquino, María Antonia 138n1, 165 Martínez, Salvador H. 232n63, 241, 383n17, 408 Martínez Alcubilla, Marcelo 372 Martínez de la Rosa, Francisco 505 Martínez Diez, Gonzalo 4n1, 9n13, 37, 112, 297n4, 299n11, 318, 365n55, 374, 404n116, 408 Martínez Sopena, Pascual 134, 344 Martos, Josep Lluís 459, 494 Mata Carriazo, Juan de 486n49, 492-494 Matute, Cristina 138n1, 165n30, 167 Maury, Juan María 505 Maya Sánchez, Antonio 312n78, 315 Mayans, Gregorio 500 Medina de Mendoza, Francisco 486, 493 Mejía, Alma 81 Mena, Juan de 469, 470n13, 493 Mendíbil, Pablo 501 Menéndez Pelayo, Marcelino 91, 92n10, 95-97, 112, 509, 512 Menéndez Pidal de Navascués, Faustino 477n26, 495 Menéndez Pidal, Ramón 5, 9, 11n20, 21, 28, 37-38, 44n1, 51-53, 57n45, 61, 73n104, 82, 90n6, 97-100, 102n40, 112, 124-25, 131, 134, 138, 140-42, 144n11, 147-48, 150, 151n18, 163-67, 172n9, 180, 184n1, 188, 192n17, 193n18, 200, 201n28, 205, 208n3, 226n53-54, 232n63, 237, 241, 251-52, 255, 266, 268, 271, 272n3, 291, 298, 318, 324n10-11, 324n14-15, 327n22, 345, 362n45, 364, 367n57, 374, 382n10-11, 384n29, 388n46, 392n61, 401-02, 408, 416n4, 417n6, 418n8, 419n12, 425, 430n40, 436n55, 451, 452n105, 458-59, 497, 506n23, 509-10, 512, 515-16, 520, 523, 524-25 Menocal, María Rosa 525 Merwin, W.S. 525 Michael, Ian 52n26, 61, 67, 78n118-19, 79n121, 80, 82, 101, 105, 107-08, 112, 184n1, 190n16, 193n19, 198n23, 206, 215n15, 223n37, 241, Index 281, 288, 291, 386n32, 393n77, 408, 513n35, 524-25 Michel, Francisque 508 Mignolo, Walter D. 498n4 and 7, 520 Milá y Fontanals, Manuel 94-95, 112, 508n26, 509, 510n29 Miletich, John S. 21n35, 30n47, 38, 224n43, 241, 247n1, 254, 268, 384n28 Millares Carlo, Agustín 2n3, 82 Misrahi, Jean 226n55, 241 Molho, Maurice 208n3, 241, 311n75, 318 Molinero Hernando, Pablo 10n16, 36 Montaner, Fernando 70n91, 83 Montaner Frutos, Alberto 6, 7n10, 10n15 and 18, 11n21, 18n30, 19n31, 20n33, 29n45, 32n54, 33n55-57, 37-38, 44n4, 49n16, 52n25 and 27, 54n34 and 37-38, 55n39-41, 56n43, 57n45, 58n50 and 53, 59n54 and 57, 61n60, 62n61 and 64, 63n65-69, 64n70, 65n76, 66n81, 67n84, 70n91, 71n96-97, 73n104, 75n112, 79n122, 82-83, 86-88, 100n36, 101, 109, 112, 114, 123, 134, 138n1, 139n3-4, 140n5, 144n11, 145, 147n15, 155n20, 164, 166n34-35, 168, 169n1, 171n7, 172n9, 174n13, 180, 188n10, 199n25, 201, 204n31, 206, 207n1, 208n2 and 5, 210n7, 212n10, 213n12-13, 219n27, 222n34, 223n37-38, 226n55, 231n61, 232n63, 236n71, 237, 241-42 , 254n31, 256n39, 257n49, 258n50 and 52, 259n55, 268, 272n1, 273, 275, 277, 281n18, 287, 291-93, 298n5 and 7, 303n32, 305n41, 310n68, 311n74-75, 314, 318, 320-21, 325n15, 327n22, 349, 350n16, 354n29, 364, 374, 380n5, 383-84, 385n31, 386n34, 395n82 and 86, 396n89, 398-99, 400n103, 401-03, 405, 408-09, 417n5 and 7, 418n10, 420n15, 423n27, 426n33, 427n34, 429n39, 430n40, 432n46-47, 437n57, 438n59, 439n64, 445n79, 446n83, 448n89, 449, 451n95-97 and 99, 456n106, 458-59, 469n11, 573n19, 476n24, 490n63, 495, 498n3 and 7, 499n10, 512n34, 517n45, 518n49, 519, 520, 523-25 Montgomery, Thomas 216n17 and 19, 225n50, 236n71, 242, 247n1, 256n38, 264n73, 268, 390, 409 Montiel, José Luis 58n51, 83 Moon, Harold 226n56, 242 Mora, José Joaquín de 512 Index Morales, María Luz 516 Moreno Castillo, Enrique 226n53, 242 Moreno Hernández, Carlos 474n21, 492, 495 Moreta Velayos, Salustiano 404n119, 409 Morros, Bienvenido 354n29, 374 Moure, José Luis 83 Moya García, Cristina 489n61, 495 Muḥammad al-Nāṣir 309 Müller, Johannes von 503 Muñoz Cortés, Manuel 37, 82, 459 Muñoz Machado, Santiago 374, 375 Murray, Alexander 226n55, 242 Mussafia, Adolf 176 Myers, Oliver T. 216n17, 242 Myller, Christoph Heinrich 502 Nader, Helen 486n45, 487n53, 495 Nascimiento, Aires A. 82 Nerlich, Michael 501n14, 520 Nespor, Marina 186n5, 206 Nichols, Stephen G. 66n80, 83 Nieto Soria, José Manuel 323n8, 345, 477n27, 494, 496 Niño, Pero (Count) 468, 488 Noonan, John T. 356n36, 374 Núñez de Toledo, Juan 489 Núñez Paz, María Isabel 356n36, 374 Nuño González, Jaime 299n11, 318 Nuño Pérez de Lara 305 Nykl, Alois Richard 178, 180 O’Callaghan, Joseph 301n26-27, 302n28 and 30, 310n68, 315, 318 Ocampo, Florián de 442, 459 Octavio de Toledo y Huerta, Álvaro S. 159n23, 168 Oleza, Juan de 226n57, 242 Orcástegui Gros, Carmen 492 Orduna, Germán 54n35, 57n45, 83, 288, 292, 395n86, 409 Orlandis Rovira, José 350n20, 352n23, 353, 354n29, 374 Ormsby, J. 525 Ortega y Gasset, José 509, 520 Otero Varela, Alfonso 364, 374 Ovid 412 Pablo de Santa María (see Santa María, Pablo de) 535 Pacheco, Juan 477, 482, 484 Pampín Barral, Mercedes 83, 456, 459, 495 Panateri, Daniel 67n84, 83 Pāṇini 187n7 Panizo Santos, Ignacio 10n16, 38 Paraíso, Isabel 71n95, 83 Pardo, Aristóbulo 230n59, 242 Pardo Bazán, Emilia 509 Paredes, Diego de 487 Paredes, Juan 82, 459 Paris, Gaston 505-06, 510, 520 Parrilla García, Carmen 83, 456, 459, 495 Parry, Adam 206, 253n24, 268 Parry, Milman 189, 206, 252-55, 267, 269 Pascua Echegaray, Esther 306n49, 318 Pascual, José Antonio 172n8, 178 Pastor de Togneri, Reyna 494 Pastor Díaz, Nicomedes 511 Pato, Enrique 138n1, 167 Pattison, David G. 80, 82, 168, 240, 272n3, 288, 292, 315, 372, 383, 408-09, 415n3, 417n5, 430n41, 434n51, 441n69, 442n70, 444n77, 448n89, 449n51, 451n99, 452n104, 459-60 Pavlović, Milija N. 212n9, 230n60, 232n63, 242, 273, 292, 368n58, 375 Pawley, Andrew 261n62-63, 269 Pedro I of Aragon 479-80 Pedro II of Aragon 302, 313 Pedro Fernández de Castro 303-04 Pedrosa, José Manuel 230n59, 243 Pellen, René 71n97, 77n114, 83-84, 162, 168, 187n12, 206, 223n38, 243, 402, 409 Pellicer, Juan Antonio 56, 500 Penna, Mario 494 Penny, Ralph 141, 163n26, 164-65, 168 Peña Pérez, Francisco Javier 4n1, 39, 350, 375 Per Abbat 6, 32, 59-61, 65n75, 91-93, 107n57, 129, 137, 143, 184, 203, 313, 383, 385, 389 Pérez de Guzmán, Fernán 471-73, 485, 487, 493 Pérez Vidal, Alejandro 243 Pérez, Roberto 213n12, 243 Pero (or Pedro) Abad 173 Perry, Janet 524-25 Pescador, Carmela 311n73, 318 Peter II of Aragon (see Pedro II of Aragon) Pickering, Frederick P. 226n53, 243 Pidal, Pedro José 512 536 Piñero Valverde, María de la Concepción 222n34, 243 Pollmann, Leo 230n59, 243 Ponce de León, Rodrigo (Marquis of Cádiz) 484-85, 491 Pontón, Gonzalo 493 Popper, Karl 506, 520 Portolés, José 499n8, 520 Powell, Brian 135, 242, 244, 266n78, 269, 292, 382n9-15, 383, 403, 409, 415n3, 420n14-15, 424n29, 450n95, 452n98, 460 Powers, James F. 120n1, 134, 307n56, 311n71-72, 315, 318, 402, 409 Pozuelo Yvancos, José María 498n3, 499n8, 520 Prescott, William H. 504 Primo de Rivera, José Antonio 514 Pulgar, Hernando de 486, 493 Purkis, William 310n69, 318 Puymaigre, Théodore de 506 Quilis, Antonio 71n95, 84 Quintana, Manuel José 497, 501-03 Rábade Obradó, María del Pilar 343 Rada, Rodrigo Ximénez de (see Rodrigo Ximénez / Jiménez de Rada) Raffel, Burton 525 Raimundo de Tolosa (Count of Toulouse) 473 Ramiro I of Aragon 404 Ramiro I of Asturias 421 Ramiro of Monzón 4 Ramón Berenguer (Count of Barcelona) 4, 214, 479 Ranz Yubero, José Antonio 223n37, 243 Ratcliffe, Marjorie 232n62, 243 Reagan, Christopher J. 240 Reig, Carola 417n5, 460 Reilly, Bernard F. 4n1, 39 Restori, Antonio 507 Revilla, José de la 512 Reyes, Alfonso 515-516, 525 Riaño Rodríguez, Timoteo 49n16, 84, 402, 409, 524 Ribera, Julián 516 Ribero, C. Almeida 82 Richthofen, Erich von 222n34, 243 Index Rico, Francisco 22n37, 39, 222n33, 237, 243, 304n41, 319, 383-84, 386n34, 395n86, 403, 408-09, 495, 524 Ridruejo, Emilio 120n1, 134 Riesco Terrero, Ángel 84 Riquer, Martín de 19n32, 395n81 and 86, 410, 517n45, 520 Riva, Fernando 310n68, 319 Robinson, Cynthia 240 Rochwert-Zuili, Patricia 420n14 and 16, 423n28, 426n33, 427n35, 432n47, 433n50, 435n54, 442n71, 444n77-78, 445n80, 447n86, 460, 469n11, 476n25, 492 Rodiek, Christoph 33n55, 39, 497n1, 521 Rodilla, María José 81 Rodrigo Ximénez / Jiménez de Rada 119, 121, 127, 129, 323, 413, 419, 439, 453 Rodríguez de Almela, Diego 453, 481, 489, 493 Rodríguez de Calheiros, Fernán 177 Rodríguez Flores, María Inmaculada 353-54, 357n40, 375 Rodríguez López, Ana 134 Rodríguez Molina, Javier 6n8, 19n31-32, 20n33, 32n53, 52n28, 73n103, 75, 78b120, 84, 140n5, 146n13, 168 Rodríguez-Velasco, Jesús D. 67n84, 84, 325n14, 345 Rohui, Leyla 240 Roitman, Gisela 327n20, 345 Roodenburg, Herman 241 Rosell, Cayetano 487, 492 Rosseeuw-Saint Hilaire, Eugène F. A. 505 Rossell, Antoni 53n32, 84, 188n11, 206 Rubin, David C. 261-62, 269 Rubio Flores, A. 84 Rubió y Ors, Joaquín 507, 510n29, 515 Ruiz Albi, Irene 108n61, 112 Ruiz Asencio, José Manuel 44n1, 49n16, 82, 84, 108n61, 112, 374 Ruiz de Azagra, Pero 480 Ruiz de la Peña Solar, Juan Ignacio 120n1, 134 Ruiz de la Vega, Gonzalo 474 Ruiz de Ulibarri, Juan 32, 51n22, 52n23, 56, 60, 63, 89n1, 499-500, 523 Ruiz Gómez, Francisco 309n64, 317 Russell, Peter E. 101, 105, 203n30, 206, 219n26, 243, 355n30, 375, 380n5, 401, 410, 426n32, 430n40, 437n58, 460 Index Ryan, Giles D. 227n57, 243 Rychner, Jean 21n34, 39, 215n16, 243 Saavedra, Ángel de (Duke of Rivas) 502 Sáez, Carlos 243 Saguar, Amaranta 168, 318 Salazar y Mendoza, Pedro de 487, 493 Salinas, Pedro 515-16, 525 Sancha, Antonio de 500 Sánchez, Tomás Antonio 90, 112, 184, 185n3, 379, 497, 500, 504, 511, 515, 517, 522, 524 Sánchez Casabón, Ana Isabel 309n62, 314, Sánchez Jiménez, Santiago U. 199n25, 206 Sánchez Mariana, Manuel 44n3, 53n31, 54n36, 84 Sánchez Prieto, Ana Belén 44n3, 84, 184, 185n3, 379, 497, 500, 504, 511, 515, 517 Sánchez-Prieto Borja, Pedro 19n32, 39, 139n4, 141n6, 145, 168 Sancho II of Castile 4, 9, 11, 110, 414, 416, 442, 447-49, 452, 464n, 467, 478-79, 481 Sancho III of Castile 297, 299, 479 Sancho IV of Castile and León 58, 323n8, 404, 414, 416, 421, 423, 430, 455, 491 Sancho VI of Navarre 299, 444, 445n80 Sancho VII of Navarre 301 Sandamann, Manfred 216n17, 243 Sandoval, Prudencio de 89, 112, 499 Santa Cruz, Alonso de 486n49, 493 Santa María, Pablo de 465-67 Santamarta Luengos, José María 299n11, 316 Sanz, Lourdes 524 Sanz, Omar 369n65, 375 Sarmiento, Martín 90, 113, 499 Scarborough, Connie 517n46, 521 Schafler, Norman 226n54, 243 Schlegel, Friedrich 503, 505, 507 Scholler, Harald 243 Schrott, Angela 219n24, 244 Schubert, Gotthilf Heinrich 503, 515 Sears, Theresa Ann 236n71, 244 Sebeok, Thomas A. 240 Segre, Cesare 70n90, 84, 207n2, 216n18, 218n22, 225n48, 244 Senra Gabriel y Galán, José Luis 405n119, 410 Serés, Guillermo 493 Serra Ruiz, Rafael 368n58, 369n60-61, 375 537 Silvela, Manuel 501, 505 Simpson, Lesley B. 525 Sismondi, Jean Claude Léonard Simonde de 505 Smith, Colin C. 5-6, 21n36, 33n56, 39, 53n33, 55n40, 58n47, 64n71, 84-85, 101, 102n40, 106, 113, 220n30, 222n34, 226n53, 227n58, 231n61, 237, 244, 302-03, 304n41, 312, 313n80, 319, 355n30, 356n33, 375, 380n5, 383, 384n28, 387, 390, 392, 400-01, 410, 419n11, 439n65-66, 450n95, 460, 505n20, 513n35, 516, 517n45, 521, 524 Smith, Roger R. 232 n63, 244 Solà, Joan 179 Solalinde, Antonio G. 37, 82, 459 Soler Bistué, Maximiliano 216, 219, 244 Solera López, Rus 445n79, 452n101, 460, 473n18, 476n24, 496, 521 Soons, Alan 392, 410 Southey, Robert 504, 521 Southworth, Eric 80, 168, 408 Spitzer, Leo 516n43, 521 Stock, Brian 249, 269 Suárez Fernández, Mercedes 167 Such, Peter 525 Syder, Frances Hodgetts 261n62-63, 269 Tapia, Eugenio de 508 Taylor, Andrew 53n30, 85, 102n42, 103, 113 Taylor, Barry 125n6, 134, 205, 239, 458 Terés, Elías 171n6, 180 Ticknor, George 93, 113 Ṭodros Abulʿāfiyah 176 Toro, Francisco 242 Toro Pascua, María Isabel 82, 134 Torre, Esteban 70n92 and 94, 71n95-96, 85 Torreblanca, Máximo 163n26, 168 Torrens Álvarez, María Jesús 138n1, 147n16, 168 Torres Sevilla-Quiñones de León, Margarita C. 325n15, 327n22, 345, 404n116, 410 Tötösy de Zepetnek, Steven 498n4, 521 Trigueros, Cándido María 56, 57n44, 60, 499 Troncarelli, F. 80 Trotter, David 79 Trovato, Paolo 53n31, 66n78-81, 68n86, 85 Trueba, Antonio de 497, 508, 513, 515 Tubino, Francisco María 511 538 Tynjanov, Jurij N. 201n27, 206 Ubieto Arteta, Antonio 109n62, 113, 162, 168, 302, 311n75, 319, 402, 410 Ulibarri, Juan Ruiz de (see Ruiz de Ulibarri, Juan) Ulibarri, Manuel 500 Unamuno, Miguel de 508, 512, 514 Ureña y Smenjaud, Rafael de 311n71, 315, 372 Urraca I of Castile and León 473 Urraca López de Haro 306 Val Valdivieso, María Isabel del 344 Valera, Diego de 477, 484, 489, 491, 494 Valera, Juan 497, 508, 512 Valle-Inclán, Ramón del 514, 521 Valverde Ogallar, Pedro 476n25, 477n26, 496 Vaquero, Mercedes 11n22, 239-40, 374, 379n1, 385n31, 386n35-36, 387n42, 393n69 and 71-72, 394n79, 395n83 and 85, 400n102, 401n109, 410-11, 473n18, 496 Vara Thorbeck, Carlos 309n66, 319 Vargas Ponce, José 502 Varvaro, Alberto 223n35, 225n46, 232n63, 237n73, 244 Vega Ramos, María José 501n14, 521 Vegliante, Jean-Charles 178n28, 180 Veiga Rodríguez, Alexandre 167 Velázquez, Luis José 499, 510 Vélez-Sainz, Julio 493 Velorado, fray Juan de 34, 452, 473n18, 490, 492 Viana, Carlos de (see Carlos de Viana) Viardot, Louis 505, 507 Vico, Giambattista 96 Victorio Martínez, Juan 188n9, 206, 240 Vidal González, Francisco 493 Vilà, Lara 501n14, 521 Villalba Ruiz de Toledo, Francisco Javier 486n46, 496 Index Villarroel González, Óscar 344 Villemain, Abel-François 505 Violante Branco, Maria João 133n10, 134 Virgil 105, 501-02 Viruete Erdozáin, Roberto 132n9, 134 Vogel, Irene 186n5, 206 Vollmöller, Karl 507, 515 Walde Moheno, Lillian von der 37, 519 Waldschmidt, Anneliese 497n2, 519 Walker, Roger M. 212n9, 230n59-60, 232n63, 242, 244, 305, 319 Walsh, John K. 220n30, 244 Waltman, Franklin M. 21n35, 39 Ward, Aengus 439n64, 445n80, 458, 460 Webber, Ruth House 223n37, 244, 273, 275, 281, 292 Weigand, Rudolf 356n37, 375 West, Geoffrey 135, 205, 226n57, 230n59, 239-40, 242, 244, 285n22, 292, 409, 458 Whetnall, Jane 458 White, Stephen D. 348n5, 375 Wolf, Ferdinand Joseph 503n18, 506, 508, 521 Wolff, Otis 504 Wright, Roger 32, 120n1, 122n2, 123n4, 134-35, 166, 388n44, 399n100, 400n104, 411 Yarza Luaces, Joaquín 494 Zaderenko, Irene 7, 10n17, 39, 54n38, 55n40, 85, 95n20, 101n38, 107n57, 113, 131, 135, 163n26, 168, 247n1, 256n39, 269, 298n8, 307n55, 319, 364n51, 375, 380n3, 384n29, 390n52, 399-402, 411, 517n45, 518n49, 521 Zamora Vicente, Alonso 512n32, 521 Zapf, Hermann 81 Zotz, Thomas 226n53, 245 Zumthor, Paul 235n70, 245, 248, 269

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