The «Afrenta de Corpes» and other stories
Alan Deyermond
David Hook (coaut.)
The Afrenta de Corpes, one of the crucial episodes of the Cantar de Mio Cid, stands out in a notably rational and realistic poem by its irrational violence and numinous landscape. It has understandably attracted the attention of many scholars, and similarities have been discovered between it and a number of literary and other traditions. It has been shown to resemble the rhetorical topos of the locus amoenus, the martyrological traditions of the medieval church, the Roman Lupercalia ritual, local folklore, and the lyric convention of the alba1. Until recently, however, there had been no attempt to find a specific literary source for the episode. That attempt was made in 1977, by Roger M. Walker, who argued that the Cid poet adapted an episode from the thirteenth-century French Florence de Rome2.
The evidence presented by Walker is manifestly inconclusive, and this fact is very properly reflected in the tentative wording of the article's title («A Possible Source») and in statements made in the opening pages: «there is no great difficulty in recognizing at least the possibility that the poet of the PMC had access to a version of the CF [Florence]»
(p. 336), and «a closer examination of the two episodes... will, I hope, show that it is at least possible that the PMC poet took some of his inspiration from the CF»
(p. 337). At the end of the article, however. Walker commits himself further: «It is the identity of certain minor details... that convinces me that the correspondences between the two accounts are more than coincidental... If I am right in my contention that the Spanish poet adapted an episode from the CF at this point, there arise certain important consequences for our knowledge of the poem and its author»
(p. 347)3. The consequences that Walker goes on to mention -learned authorship, the fictional basis of much of the poem, and its composition early in the thirteenth century- had already been established by other scholars on other grounds, and Walker rightly presents his evidence as nothing more than confirmation of his predecessors' work. If his evidence is found unconvincing, our view of the poem remains unaffected. But this is not true of the use to which Walker's conclusions have subsequently been put. Colin Smith takes it as a starting point for his investigation of borrowings and reminiscences from French epic and romance in CMC, describing it as «a vitally important study»
4. Walker himself uses the Cid poet's supposed debt to Florence as a final support for his contention that the Infantes de Carrión intended to kill their wives: «In view of the many very close parallels of action, motive and characterization that undoubtedly exist between the two episodes [in CMC and Florence], I feel that it is at least possible that the PMC poet also transferred Milon's intention to murder his victim to his own tormented creatures»
5. Thus a hypothesis based on slender and, as we shall see, often unreliable evidence has become the basis for further hypotheses of a distinctly controversial nature. A re-examination of Walker's case is, in these circumstances, an urgent necessity.
We begin where Walker does: with the chronological problem. Was it possible for the Cid poet to know Florence? Walker says that the French poem,
| (p. 336) | ||
The terminus ad quem which Walker gives for Florence requires no discussion, but the terminus a quo requires detailed scrutiny. Even if Walker were right, the chronology would present some problems, since within the period 1200-07 we should have to fit Jean Renart's Guillaume de Dole, Florence de Rome which borrowed from Guillaume, and the Cantar de Mio Cid which borrowed from Florence. That is not impossible -medieval poets sometimes seized on new works with impressive speed- but it seems to us somewhat improbable. The chronology proposed by Walker is, even on the most favourable construction, uncomfortably tight. But what is the basis for Walker's chronology? It appears to rest entirely on the views expressed seventy years earlier by A. Wallensköld, the editor of Florence6. Wallensköld, after mentioning the allusion in Florence to Guillaume de Dole, says:
| (I, pp. 99-100) | ||
We are, as we have said, chiefly concerned at this stage with the date of Guillaume de Dole, since that provides a terminus a quo for Florence. It should not, however, escape notice that Wallensköld is -as the title of his edition shows- unwilling to commit himself to a more precise date for Florence than the first quarter of the thirteenth century. He nowhere indicates a belief that the poem was composed at the beginning of that period.
Wallensköld's authority for his statement about the date of Guillaume de Dole is Servois, in his 1893 edition of that poem, and he notes that Gaston Paris, who had previously dated Guillaume at ca. 1210, later came to accept Servois's view7. Wallensköld was, then, reflecting the best scholarly opinion of his time when he dated Guillaume at ca. 1200, but the state of scholarly opinion is not immutable. Walker says at one point, «if subsequent research should show the CF to be post-1207», but research as long ago as the 1930's showed that fairly conclusively.
For nearly half a century the leading authority on Guillaume de Dole has been not Servois but Rita Lejeune. Her 1935 thesis, followed a year later by her edition of the text, raised Guillaume studies to a new level8. In her thesis, she devotes a chapter of nearly sixty pages (pp. 73-130) to the problem of Guillaume's date, basing herself partly on Jean Renart's dedication of the poem to Milon de Nanteuil, and partly on the reflection of historical characters within the work. She notes that the Roman de la Violette (which, it will be recalled, alludes to Florence de Rome) imitates Guillaume at several points, and since Violette appears to have been composed between 1227 and 1229, the late 1220's must be a terminus ad quem for Guillaume9. She then examines the question of the dedication in some detail, gives her reasons for dissenting from Servois's views, and concludes that on the basis of the dedication's evidence, Guillaume «a été écrit selon toute probabilité avant 1218... et après 1208»
(p. 82). A lengthy examination of the historical characters (pp. 82-130) enables her to narrow this nine-year span considerably, and to arrive at 1212 as the most likely date of composition. Her views are conveniently summed up in the introduction to her edition of Guillaume:
| (pp. xiii-xiv) | ||
These are powerful arguments which, unless effectively rebutted, are fatal to Walker's chronology. If Guillaume de Dole was composed ca. 1212, then Florence, which refers to it, must be later. Even if we make the extreme assumption that Florence followed Guillaume within a few months, it would still be five years later than the latest date, 1207, that anyone is seriously prepared to assign to the Cantar de Mio Cid. On the much more reasonable assumption of a substantial time-lag between Guillaume and Florence (Raphael Lévy, accepting 1213 as the date of Guillaume, assigns Florence to 1227)10, the Cantar precedes its supposed source by an even bigger margin.
How have Lejeune's views been received by other scholars? Carla Cremonesi cites with evident approval her use of the dedication as evidence, and dates Guillaume between 1208 and 121711. As far as we know, the only serious dissent has come from the poem's most recent editor, Félix Lecoy, but far from defending Servois's date of ca. 1200, he argues that Lejeune's date is too early, and that Guillaume was probably composed in 122812. It is unnecessary to follow the details of this disagreement since the conclusions of both Lejeune and Lecoy make it chronologically impossible for the Cid poet to have borrowed from the extant Florence de Rome. The reaction of other scholars to the disagreement has been mixed. Carmela Mattioli, after a valuable survey of previous scholarship, examines Lecoy's arguments in detail, and has no hesitation in rejecting them13. she finds Lejeune's case much more convincing, but is willing to accept an earlier date than Lejeune. On the evidence of references to historical characters, she concludes that «la data proposta da Servois non è sicuramente scartabile»
(p. 108), and that «il periodo più verosimile per la composizione... appare il 1200-1211»
(p. 110). The evidence of the dedication, however, points to 1204-17. Mattioli does not formally state an overall conclusion, but her two lines of argument, taken together, give 1204-11 as the period within which Guillaume de Dole was composed. Michel Zink, on the other hand, sees merits in the views of both Lejeune and Lecoy, but is inclined on balance to favour the latter14. Standard works of reference generally accept Lejeune's dating: Lévy's Chronologie approximative, as we have seen, dates Guillaume at 1213. John Fox's history of medieval French literature puts the poem «some ten years later» than Jean Renart's first work, which is dated ca. 120015. Faith Lyons, in an encyclopedia article, gives ca. 121216. Lecoy finds a supporter («vers 1228») in Albert Henry, while a more eclectic position is taken by Paul Zumthor, who says ca. 1200-10, and by L. T. Topsfield, who chooses the even wider limits of 1200 and 122617. Servois's date, and with it Walker's chronological argument, thus cannot be wholly excluded, but in the light of the past half-century's scholarship, they seem unlikely.
It is only fair to say that Walker attempts to protect his case against just such a contingency:
| (p. 336)18 | ||
Walker's authority here is again, as he says in a note, Wallensköld, but that scholar's observations prove to be less clear-cut than Walker's report suggests. He says only that Naissance (i. e., the Elioxe version) «date probablement de la fin du XIIe siècle», and qualifies this in a footnote: «il est encore possible de placer la composition de la Naissance du Chevalier au Cygne dans le premier quart du XIIIe siècle»
(I, p. 102). The value of Naissance/Elioxe as a witness to a Florence early enough to have influenced CMC is thus somewhat diminished. Other research makes it even less safe to assert that Naissance/Elioxe antedates the extant Florence or CMC. Todd, the poem's first editor, does not express an opinion on its date, but Gaston Paris, in his review of Todd, says:
La chanson d'Elioxe ne doit pas être antérieure à la fin du XIIe siècle, car elle mentionne les romans de la Table Ronde comme largement populaires (v. 3293); elle ne peut guère être plus récente, puisque le principal manuscrit qui la contient est de la première moitié du XIIIe siècle.19 |
W. R. J. Barron shows that, although the manuscript is probably fourteenth century, the poem cannot have been composed after 1268, and though he does not offer a terminus a quo, he notes that Hugh A. Smith suggests composition ca. 1160-7020. These seem to be the effective limits for a plausible dating, and Barron rightly speaks of «the very general dating, which is all that can safely be attempted»
(p. 486). More recently, Geoffrey M. Myers has offered 1170-80 as a terminus a quo21. Some form of the Naissance story was almost certainly in existence at that time, but the extant Elioxe text, on which Wallensköld (and therefore Walker) depend, could have been composed at any time between 1170 and 1268; it could be earlier or later than the extant Florence de Rome. This makes it most imprudent to use Naissance/Elioxe in an attempt to prove that a primitive Florence preceded CMC. Yet even if we accept Wallensköld's belief that Naissance/Elioxe probably refers to a version earlier than the extant Florence (p. 104), this would not help Walker's case. The allusion in Naissance/Elioxe has one astonishing feature -Milon, the villain of the extant Florence, is presented as the heroine's husband:
| Quant Miles espousa Florence le vaillant; | |||
| se li dona Florence qui bien le vit aidant | |||
| et encontre Garfile fierement conbatant; | |||
| et Miles dona l'autre a .i. sien connisçant.22 |
If the Naissance / Elioxe poet's report is accurate, he must have known a Florence story almost unrecognizably different from the extant text. Wallensköld maintains that the reference to Milon as Florence's husband is a mere slip, and he may well be right, but he also notes that at least one of the characters must have had different names in this hypothetical primitive Florence and the extant text (pp. 103-04). It is impossible to resolve these questions with any degree of certainty. It is also unnecessary because one simple methodological point is decisive: since the twelfth-century Florence, if it existed, must ex hypothesi have differed in at least some details from the extant text, and since Walker bases most of his case for CMC's debt to Florence on «the identity of certain minor details and more unusual elements»
(p. 347), it cannot be asserted with any confidence that a primitive Florence contained the details on which Walker relies to prove his case23.
To sum up this part of the argument: Walker's claim that the extant Florence was early enough to influence CMC is based on seriously outdated authority; modern scholarly investigation has shown it to be highly probable that Florence is later than CMC. The alternative suggestion that the Cid poet drew on an earlier, and now lost, Florence poem is chronologically unsafe, and anyway meets an insuperable methodological difficulty. The foundations of Walker's case turn out to have been built on sand. We do not, of course, maintain that a major borrowing by CMC from Florence is chronologically impossible; merely that it is extremely unlikely -so unlikely that only the closest and most cogent textual parallels would justify a disregard of the chronological probabilities. (It should be noted in passing that those probabilities are so strong that, if such parallels existed, they might constitute a prima facie case for investigating the question of CMC's influence on Florence)24. The second part of our article will consider whether those parallels exist.
That there is a certain broad resemblance between this episode in the PMC and that in Florence is obvious; the problems centre upon assessing the extent and importance of the parallels, and in determining their implications. The similarities which Walker claims to perceive between Florence and the PMC cover the entire sequence of events at Corpes. In both the PMC and Florence, he states, the villains have thought out their strategy and «arrange a journey to get their prospective victims away from the protection of their family courts, and they find no difficulty in persuading the women to agree to the journey»
(p. 338). In both poems, «the villains' next step is to contrive to get the women completely on their own, away from their entourage»
(p. 338). In each case, the setting for the assault is a «dense, terrifying forest, into which the victims are deliberately led by the villains»
(p. 339); wild beasts are an important element in this landscape. Within this setting, the actual site of the assaults is in each case a locus amoenus (p. 340). In both poems, the motivation for the assault is «the damaged ego of the villains»
(p. 340) who are seeking revenge for a previous humiliation; moreover, their revenge is a savage one, out of proportion to the original slight: «acts of insane criminal savagery committed without any regard for the almost certain consequences to themselves» are perpetrated by the villains (p. 342). The victims appeal for death rather than dishonour (pp. 342-43); the villains ignore this appeal and attack them with ignoble, lacerating weapons (p. 343). The victims are severely battered; torn flesh, spilt blood, and ripped clothing are described (p. 345). In each case, after being abandoned by the villains, the victims are rescued by the arrival of another character (pp. 345-46).
Walker admits that the more general parallels are not «in themselves» very significant (p. 347), but draws attention to «the identity of certain minor details and more unusual elements -such as the psychopathic and sadistic nature of the villains, the ignoble use of spurs, and the women's appeal to have their heads cut off»
(p. 347), all of which he sees as lending support to his claim that «the correspondences between the two accounts are more than coincidental»
(p. 347). In fact, some aspects of the evidence presented by Walker as suggesting direct contact between the two episodes are less than convincing, and even the «minor details and more unusual elements» which are his strongest points, can be shown to be far from conclusive. It will be necessary to review the alleged parallels in some detail.
Two of the similarities claimed by Walker in the prelude to the assaults in the PMC and Florence attract attention immediately. The villains in each case arrange a journey away from the court and persuade the women to accompany them. But, as Walker himself points out, the detailed circumstances in each text are quite different. Florence is led to believe that she is to be reunited with her husband after a long separation, while the Cid's daughters would have expected to make the journey to Carrión at some time and so do not need to be given any special reason. To separate the women from the rest of the party, different expedients are employed: in Florence, Milon rides on faster, taking Florence with him, but in the PMC the Infantes remain behind at the campsite, sending all others on ahead except their wives. Both these allegedly «obvious points of comparison» are thus in detail quite distinct. Walker's claim that in each text «any misgivings at being left alone that the women may feel are brushed aside by the villains»
(p. 338) similarly obscures important differences between the PMC and Florence. In Florence, Milon assures Florence, when she protests at his action, that by coming with him she will reach her husband the sooner. In the PMC, there is no indication at all of any misgiving on the part of the Cid's daughters. Walker's explanation of l. 2711, «deportar se quieren con ellas a todo su sabor», as the Infantes' excuse for remaining alone with their wives (namely, that they wish to make love to them again) is not a convincing reading of that line. It would make good sense for the entire line to be intended as an aside by the poet in which he warns the audience of the Infantes' intentions (cf. l. 2704)25. Even if it were accepted that these words are the report of a statement by the Infantes, as Walker would have it, the fact would remain that this excuse is once more completely different in detail from that in Florence, so that at best this would be one more general parallel, and at worst it may be an entirely illusory resemblance between the two works.
Walker also claims that the villains «inflict agonies of apprehension and uncertainty on the women before embarking on the physical torture»
(p. 339). Again, there are major differences between the two poems. In Florence, this is explicit in the text, but in the PMC there is no reference to any such apprehension, and Walker is obliged to infer it from previous events in the poem. His allusion to the Cid's hostility to the Infantes (p. 339) tends to obscure the fact that since the marriages the Cid has been exerting himself to believe only good of the Infantes, ordering his men to cease mocking them (l. 2308), speaking gently to them before the battle (ll. 2332-37), praising their imaginary valour on several occasions (ll. 2342-43, 2442-46, 2462-64, 2476-81), and generally finding them favourable (ll. 2496, 2519-26). He also refers to them as «la cosa que mucho amo»
(l. 2353); and it is worth noting that the poet expressly states that he had no inkling of their evil intentions when they announce their desire to leave Valencia (l. 2569). As Peter N. Dunn has remarked, «ironically, when they are becoming most shamed and irked... the Cid himself is most reconciled to them and suspects no ill»
26. The Cid's open hostility to the Infantes has been long out of mind by the time of their departure for Carrión. As far as the Infantes' «seething resentment» towards the Cid is concerned, they seem to have kept this successfully to themselves. There is no textual indication of anyone's having learned of it, and the Cid's first inkling of impending tragedy comes from the agüeros (ll. 2615-16). Walker's claim that «the Cid's daughters must feel a similar apprehension» (to that felt by Florence) is thus a highly personal view of the text (p. 339). The same is true of his interpretation of their final speech to their father upon taking leave of him as containing «more than a hint of foreboding»
(p. 339). In fact, this speech consists of a statement that the girls are going to Carrión because it is their duty to do so since they have been ordered by their parents, and a request for news from home to be sent to Carrión (ll. 2594-2600). No great enthusiasm is shown for the journey, but a certain amount of sorrow is not out of place in such a leave-taking, and the absence of joy does not, of course, indicate the presence of foreboding27. Let us also bear in mind that, whatever the impression made on the girls by the Abengalbón episode, the Infantes have made love to their wives on the night before the departure of the retinue (l. 2703). This must surely be interpreted (if one adopts for a moment the kind of psychological arguments being advanced by Walker) as having reassured the girls as to their husbands' intentions. But it must be repeated that textually, the PMC offers no parallel for the apprehension which is explicit in Florence.
There are, of course, similarities between the setting of the assault in Florence and the robredo de Corpes, but they can be explained perfectly well in terms not of a direct relationship between the two texts but of a common mediaeval tradition of sinister settings. None of the features of the two forests involves anything which cannot be found elsewhere, from the density of the trees to the presence of wild beasts. Although the latter were, as Walker notes (p. 340), a real danger at this time, they are also a commonplace of epic verse (cf. Doon de la Roche, ll. 3260, 3404, and Chanson de Roland, l. 2436)28. Similarly, the existence within this forest in each text of a locus amoenus need not be evidence of a direct relationship, and moreover the details of the locus amoenus are distinct in the two poems.
A similar situation exists regarding the behaviour of the victims. The pleas for death found in both PMC and Florence can be paralleled in many other texts. An interesting comparison is made by Colbert I. Nepaulsingh with the martyrdom of St. Eulogius29. The fact that in each poem the victims warn the attackers of retribution is similarly a commonplace, and there is a world of difference between the warnings of heavenly vengeance in Florence and the threat of legal action in the PMC. Turning to the behaviour of the attackers, Walker claims that both Milon and the Infantes kick their victims (p. 343). Florence mentions a blow with the foot (l. 4096), while the PMC does not mention feet but refers to beating with spurs (ll. 2737-38); in Florence, Milon had previously threatened Florence with his spurs (l. 3770). It has been suggested by Nepaulsingh that the spurs were removed by the Infantes and held in their hands in order to beat the girls with them, and that the girls were not in fact kicked. This interpretation has much to commend it30. Similarities traced by Walker between the account of the aftermath of the assault in Florence and that in the PMC are to some extent imposed by the situation. After so vicious a beating, Florence has blood flowing onto the grass -an epic commonplace (cf. Roland, ll. 2871-72; Doon, l. 4175); the Cid's daughters have bloodstained clothes -another commonplace (cf. Roland, l. 1343). This pair of commonplaces constitutes a difference rather than a similarity between the two texts. Nor does it seem particularly significant that in both texts the rescuers find the victims insensible.
Finally, Walker claims that in each case the women are saved by the arrival of a «new» character in the poem (p. 345). In Florence, Thierri is now introduced for the first time, but in the PMC Félez Muñoz has been mentioned as early as l. 741, and has recently been charged by the Cid with the task of watching over the latter's daughters on their journey to Carrión (ll. 2618-23). The Infantes have also, as we learn later, sent him on ahead with the rest of the retinue (ll. 2764-71). Despite the historically attested existence of a character named Diego Téllez, who is introduced after Félez Muñoz has rescued the girls, Walker argues that his appearance is based on the French character Thierri, whose name, he claims, has been hispanised by the Spanish poet (p. 346)31. It is debatable to what extent any weight is to be attached to these claims. A final questionable claim for a resemblance between the two poems is the apparently «remarkably fast recoveries» of the heroines (p. 346). In the PMC, at least, there is no indication of the rapidity of the recovery; line 2823 is an open-ended temporal clause, «fata que sanas son». This could, in any case, refer not to a completed healing process but merely to an initial phase of recovery, with a longer period of convalescence possibly hinted at in l. 2862. Even if the unusual rapidity of the recovery is accepted as existing in the poem, an alternative explanation for both this and the apparent absence of scars (again inferred by Walker rather than explicit in the text) on the heroines has been given by John K. Walsh in his important study32.
It should be apparent that many of the parallels between the PMC and Florence which are claimed by Walker are far from definitive. Some are no more than general parallels; others would appear to be more or less illusory, or to depend on an interpretation of the text which may not be the only, or even the best, reading of the poet's words; still others rely upon inferences which may or may not be justified. Walker himself admits that there are «obvious differences of detail» between the two poems (p. 337), and quite properly concedes that «in themselves» some of the more general parallels between the two situations «would probably not be very significant»
(p. 347). His strongest evidence, then, is what he considers to be the minor details and more unusual elements: the ignoble use of spurs, the appeal made by the women to have their heads cut off, and the psychopathic and sadistic nature of the villains. But, as we have seen, neither the ignoble use of spurs nor the appeal for death by decapitation rather than facing dishonour can be considered conclusive evidence of a link between the PMC and Florence since parallels for both elements can be found, as Nepaulsingh has shown, in the martyrological tradition. This leaves us, in effect, the sadistic and psychopathic nature of the villains to consider. Not even this, however, is sufficient to show a direct relationship between the PMC and Florence, for, although Walker regards it as unusual, it can, in fact, be paralleled elsewhere in a context which is, moreover, in some ways closer to the situation in the PMC than is Florence. This is the myth of Philomela and Procne as related by Ovid in the sixth book of the Metamorphoses, in which there can be found not only the general outlines of the situation found in the PMC, but also many details similar to those familiar to us from the afrenta de Corpes.
Ovid relates how, after assisting Pandion of Athens to overcome his enemies, Tereus of Thrace asks for the hand of his daughter Procne in marriage. After five years in Thrace, Procne asks her husband either to let her visit Athens, or to have her sister Philomela brought to Thrace to visit her. Tereus accordingly sails to Athens to address this request to Pandion. On his arrival at his father-in-law's court, he sees Philomela, whom Ovid compares to the naiads and dryads of the deep forests in her beauty and apparel:
|
Tereus is overcome with lust for her, and redoubles his efforts to obtain Pandion's consent to his taking her back to Thrace to see her sister Procne. Philomela herself ardently supports his plea and Pandion grants his permission. The next day he bids them farewell in an emotional speech in which it is revealed that Pandion has forebodings of evil:
| (ll. 496-510) | ||
On board Tereus' ship, the latter's gloating perusal of his intended victim finds another expressive image in Ovid:
|
| (ll. 514-18) | ||
On landing, Tereus immediately drags Philomela off to a hut deep in ancient woods (l. 521: «in stabula alta trahit, silvis obscura vetustis»), where he rapes her. Upon recovering her senses, she asks why he did not rather kill her, threatens to reveal all, and calls down heavenly punishment upon him. At this he draws his sword (a sight which she welcomes as offering her death), binds her, and cuts out her tongue. This brief summary does not do justice to Ovid's account, which must be cited in its entirety:
|
| (ll. 522-57) | ||
After this, Tereus rapes her again (ll. 561-63). He then abandons her, apparently into the care of a rustic, and returns home to make excuses to his wife for the nonappearance of her sister. Philomela, however, manages to smuggle out a message to Procne, who rescues her, and together they wreak a terrible vengeance upon Tereus by cooking his son Itys and serving the flesh to the unsuspecting father.
It will be apparent that this episode, as related by Ovid, offers several interesting parallels with the afrenta de Corpes. In some ways certain of these are closer than are the parallels between the PMC and Florence. The Ovidian myth may be summarised as follows. A son-in-law asks permission of his father-in-law to take the latter's daughter on a journey to a distant place in which the son-in-law is of high status. (It is also interesting to note that two daughters are involved in the legend, though on the present journey only one is present and only one is assaulted). The father has some forebodings, but the girl herself is willing to go with the villain. The latter contrives to separate her from the rest of the party, and when she is alone with him, assaults her deep in a wood. She warns him of possible retribution, and invokes the deities. She also hopes for death at his sword, but in vain, for she is physically maltreated and injured. She is then abandoned, but is subsequently rescued after being cared for by locals. Another point of similarity is the fact that the victim loses consciousness, and although Ovid's woods do not apparently contain dangerous wild beasts, images involving both birds and beasts of prey abound in his account. It is, moreover, curious to note that Ovid refers to woodland spirits in describing Philomela's beauty34. This myth offers a remarkable collection of parallels for the PMC episode, but before attempting to assess its significance, it is worth examining another rendering of the same legend, that in the General estoria of Alfonso X, el Sabio (Pt. II, Chaps. cxxx-cxlvii)35. The overall development of this version follows Ovid, whom Alfonso names as his source, quite closely, but in certain aspects the Spanish rendering is of interest for what it reveals of the mediaeval interpretation of the circumstances depicted by Ovid. Let us take first the parting between Pandion and Philomela when the latter leaves for Thrace with Tereus (cxxxv):
Et el rey Pandion leuantosse otrossi buena mannana pora enuiar los, e espidiensse uno de otro, e tomaron se por las manos, e començo el rey Pandion a llorar con piedat de su fija que partie dessi, et dixo al rey Thereo: «Rey Thereo, tu eres mio yerno, casado de mi fija, por que e yo razon de querer te bien, e te amo como a fijo; e pues que mis fijas amas quisieron esta uista e quesiste lo tu otrossi, piedat me mueue a ello, et yo do te a Philomena, mi fija, que la lieues a su hermana, et ruego te et coniurote por la lealtat e por el debdo del parentesco que entre nos ha, e por los nuestros dioses que tu la guardes como padre. Et luego que se uieren ella et su hermana, que luego me la enuies, ca tan poco non la ternedes alla que a mi mucho se me non faga. Et tu, fija, otrossi por el debdo que comigo as, te ruego que te non detengas alla poco nin mucho, ca assaz ay en que, en yr ver tan aluenne a tu hermana». Et rogando la e mandandol que se le non oluidas de tornar se luego a ell, si alguna piadat auie en ella, e començo la a besar llorando grieue mientre de sus oios, e cayendol las lagrimas por la cara. |
One should, note here the stress on the marital relationships and the status of Tereus as Pandion's son-in-law, and hence his son: a point of detail familiar, from the PMC36. The depiction of emotion is also stronger than in Ovid, and its external forms are recognisably mediaeval. Alfonso also remarks upon Pandion's forebodings («e que se ouo miedo del mal que oyredes quel acaescio despues, et que era aquello cuemo que gelo adeuinas la uoluntat»). He retains Ovid's images of predators. In describing the rape, there are some interesting additions to the Latin original:
Pves que passaron la mar e salieron a tierra, començaron de yr su carrera, e luego a la primera jornada, ca non quiso Thereo detener mas lo que mucho cobdiciaua, e fuesse luego en la carrera appartando de las otras conpannas, leuando a Philomena por la rienda como por onrra, ca assi era, faziendo lo ell dotra guisa a buena entencion; et desque se fueron las conpannas adelantando tanto que se non auien ya a oio ellos e Thereo e Philomena, desuios Thereo con la infante, e dexo la carrera por o auien de yr, e dio con ella por unas seluas adentro, que eran muy antiguas e muy pauorosas, e llenas de serpientes, e de uestias brauas, e de mucha mala uentura por que estauan yermas; pero cato Thereo contra adelant e uio estar una choça duno que criaua uacas en aquel mont, e descendio el alli antes que ella llegasse e trauo de Philomena pora descender la otrossi. |
| (cxxxvi) | ||
Philomela questions Tereus, mentioning the wild beasts, and he reveals to her that she is about to be raped. Her protests are cut short by his assault. Ovid's images of rapine are mentioned. On recovering consciousness, Philomela lacerates herself and reproaches Tereus, asking him why he did not kill her first (cxxxvii: «¿por que me non sacas ell alma, por que te non finque ninguna nemiga de fazer? E quesiera yo muy de grado que lo ouiesses fecho antes que ouiesses dessonrado mio cuerpo»
), and invokes divine punishment against him. This leads to the scene in which Tereus draws his sword, an action which Philomela interprets, in Alfonso as in Ovid, as an offer of welcome death ( cxxxvii: «et en tod esto Philomena paraua la garganta que la degollase, pues que uio la espada, asmando que aquello querie fazer»
). Tereus then abandons her after raping her again, leaving her in the care of the rustics who live nearby. There are variations upon Ovid's account in the excuses he makes, both to the cowherds and to his retinue, whom he overtakes, but these and the rest of the legend are of little concern here.
The elaboration of Ovid's account by Alfonso has some features of interest in relation to the afrenta de Corpes. The depiction of emotion at parting and its mediaeval manifestation, the presence of wild beasts in the woods, the stress on kinship resulting from marriage, all come to mind. This episode of the General estoria has an admitted classical source, Ovid, who is in other respects followed relatively closely. These added elements would seem, therefore, to represent aspects of the situation which were felt to be essential by the mediaeval mind. But the very existence of this classical myth has some implications for the interpretation of the apparent similarities between the PMC and Florence since it contains in it an obviously related situation. In the first place, the psychopathic and sadistic elements noted by Walker as important evidence of a connection between the PMC and Florence become less significant simply because they are also found in Ovid. Tereus is, like the Infantes and Milon, heedless of possible consequences to himself and obsessed with his own intentions, and it would also be possible for anyone so minded to see him as a case of sexual deviancy37. The strongest part of Walker's case for seeing a direct relationship between Florence and the PMC thus falls. Ovid's version of the myth of Philomela and Tereus contains not only the more general parallels and the overall outlines of the episodes in the two mediaeval poems (including, in some instances, better parallels for the PMC than are offered by Florence), but also the more specific points such as the psychology of the villains and the women's desire to have their heads cut off. The only detail of any importance not to be found in Ovid is the use of spurs. Ovid, however, does mention laceration, albeit self-inflicted, and an alternative source for the use of spurs has been suggested in the martyrological tradition. It is also significant that, as Walker himself states (p. 337), the story in Florence is much more diffuse than the afrenta de Corpes and contains various extraneous incidents «which have no echo in the PMC». Ovid's account, however, is not broken up in this way, but describes the same sequence of events as the PMC with no additional episodes. It would seem a remarkable coincidence then, if from the more eventful tale unfolded in Florence, the PMC poet had selected precisely those incidents, and only those incidents, which are found in Ovid. It seems more convincing to suggest that both the PMC and Florence are drawing upon an established tradition, of which the myth of Philomela and Procne as recounted by Ovid represents one manifestation. Such a situation would account for the undoubted general similarities between the two mediaeval works. At this point it is probably necessary to emphasize that Ovid's Metamorphoses is not being advanced as a putative source for the PMC. Our purpose is simply to point out that both the PMC and Florence are to be situated within a tradition which had already produced a literary manifestation in Ovid. The background to the afrenta de Corpes is much more complex than any attempt to indicate a single source would allow since there are also the folkloric and martyrological parallels to take into account.
It is thus apparent that, in addition to the major problems of chronology outlined above, the alleged textual parallels between Florence and the PMC are far from convincing, and, even if accepted, are far from conclusive evidence of a direct connection between the two texts such as that suggested by Walker. Nor is the case for Florence as a source of the PMC strengthened by other similarities which have been claimed between the two works. Following Walker's study, Colin Smith listed six further details in which he considers the PMC to have been influenced by Florence38. Smith's case is, of course, weakened by the chronological problems already discussed, but quite apart from this, the parallels drawn are not particularly convincing as evidence of a specific debt to Florence on the part of the Spanish poet39.
Smith claims that the description of the destruction of the enemy camp in the PMC is based on that in Florence, remarking that «el motif de las tiendas destrozadas en el campamento enemigo no es frecuente en la épica francesa»
(p. 133). He sees Florence, l. 2529 («Que donc veïst abatre et paveillons et trez») as the source of PMC, ll. 1141-42:
|
Smith suggests that the Spanish poet was attracted by the details of the tents falling, but that «su mentalidad lógica le obliga a apuntar que las tiendas no se acuestan sin cortarse primero las cuerdas y arrancarse las estacas». However, the motif of tents being destroyed is by no means as uncommon as he believes. A very similar line to that in Florence is found in Garin le Loherain, l. 3154: «Souvent abatent maint tref, maint pavillon»
40. There are many other examples in French epic, and it should be noted that a common detail is the cutting of the cords supporting the tents:
|
| (Charroi, ll. 231-32)41 | ||
|
| (Garin, ll. 1861-63) | ||
|
| (Garin, ll. 340-42) | ||
|
| (Floovant, ll. 2462-63)42 | ||
|
| (La Mort Aymeri de Narbonne, ll. 783-85)43 | ||
All these texts thus offer the detail of cutting the cords, which is not found in Florence and which Smith considers to be the product of the logical mind of the Spanish poet. It is also worth noting that in La Chevalerie d'Ogier de Danemarche, which Smith himself has claimed as another French source of the PMC, there occur very similar descriptions to those already cited from other French epics:
|
| (ll. 6773-74) | ||
|
| (l. 7338)44 | ||
There is, therefore, no justification for seeing Florence as the source of this detail in the PMC, and in view of the obviously common and formulaic character of these descriptions, it would be hard to claim any other specific French text as the source either45.
A lexical detail provides another parallel between the PMC and Florence which leads Smith to claim the latter as the source for the Spanish poem. In describing the landscape around Valencia, the poet states in PMC, l. 1615, «miran la huerta, espessa es & grand». Smith notes a similar word in Florence, l. 3676 («Et la forest fu large, espesse, et longue et lee») and remarks upon «la relativa rareza de la palabra espesse/espessa en las descripciones de paisajes»
(p. 132). The word is, however, quite commonly encountered in French epic in descriptions of landscapes (e. g., Girart de Roussillon, ll. 1802, 3512, 6494, 8443, 845746; Floovant, l. 1932) and its occurrence in Florence does not mean that this work was the source used by the Spanish poet.
The similarity between the scene in Valencia when the Cid's family view the enemy camp from the alcázar and that in Florence when the heroine sees the enemy army from her window and is comforted by her father was first noted by Menéndez Pidal47. Smith cites this as another example of the dependence of the Spanish poem upon Florence (p. 133), but the resemblances between the two scenes are very general. In Florence, the heroine goes to the window and looks out upon the helmets of the enemy, then -apparently having left the window («el est venue au roi»
, l. 1066)- begs her father to deliver her to the enemy rather than give battle. In reply he boasts that when he goes into battle, he will cut down the enemy. In the PMC, the Cid takes his family up to the alcázar to see the enemy tents, and when his wife asks what the tents are, the Cid jestingly replies that there is no need to worry since it is all a present brought from overseas for his family, which will provide a dowry for his daughters. There are neither detailed similarities nor verbal correspondences between the two scenes, and we are surely faced with an interesting analogue rather than anything else. This is, in fact, an established motif -cases of women watching armies from various vantage points abound in literature. An early example is in Book III of the Iliad, where Helen identifies the Greeks from the walls of Troy for the benefit of Priam. Later, in Book VI, Andromache, carrying her infant son, is found in a similar position by Hector and is comforted by him. In both cases we have a war situation, a vantage point, a watching woman, and a male relative. In addition, the case of Andromache offers the concept of distress in the female and comforting words from the male, and also adds the offspring which are found in the PMC, where, too, it is the husband who offers comfort to the wife as in the Iliad, rather than to the child as in Florence. Variants of this situation occur frequently in literature, and to cite further examples would prolong this article excessively. In the absence of precise correspondences of detail and verbal form, there is no reason to consider Florence the source or inspiration of the episode in the PMC.
Another similarity between the PMC and Florence claimed by Smith proves to be illusory too. He cites the occurrence of romanz in the PMC and refers to its use in Florence (p. 133). However, the word does not appear in the poetic text of the PMC, but is found in the socalled segundo explicit, a short jingle requesting wine, which is universally agreed to have been added to the extant manuscript some time after the latter was copied in the fourteenth century48. There is no evidence that the word was used by the PMC poet with the meaning of «poem, story», and by the time the wine-jingle was added, it was, of course, a standard word for «poem» in Old Spanish, having been used with that meaning in, for example, the Libro de Apolonio and Berceo's Loores de Nuestra Señora49. Romanz proves nothing about the supposed debt of the PMC to Florence.
Two other points raised by Smith have similar implications and are best dealt with together. He draws attention to the reference in the PMC to «buenos çendales d'Andria»
(l. 1971) and sees a «parecido estructural... muy notable»
between the latter and Florence, l. 451, «de riches cendaus d'Andre»
(p. 131). He also claims that a notable structural parallel exists between PMC, l. 1548 («e buen cauallo en diestro») and Florence, l. 169 («riche cheval en destre») (p. 132). In both cases. Smith's case rests upon the fact that the form of the phrases in Florence is closer to that of the Spanish than are other French examples known to him. Thus, cendal d'Andre in the singular occurs in Fougues de Candie, which Smith also considers the Spanish poet to have known (p. 131), but he prefers Florence as a source apparently because of the presence there of the plural and the preceding adjective. In the case of the phrase riche cheval en destre, similar considerations seem to apply since the basic element of cheval en destre is not uncommon. Both these instances raise a fundamental question of procedure when dealing with formulaic material of this nature. As Smith himself recognises elsewhere, the extant versions of French epic texts may differ in detail from the versions in circulation at the time of the composition of the PMC50. There is often, in fact, a notable divergence between different manuscripts of the same chanson de geste51. In the case of formulaic material, then, it is as a general principle inadvisable to rely upon minor verbal details (such as the plural cendaus of Florence, or the use of an adjective) in attempting to show dependence of one work upon another, simply because there is no guarantee that those particular verbal details were present in the version(s) of the French epics in circulation at the date at which a Spanish poet was working. A further point is that dependence upon such precise verbal details as the existence of a plural and an adjective negates the whole concept of free variation within a formulaic tradition, and one's alleged sources will begin to depend upon which verbal details are selected as important. Taking the case of the riche cheval en destre, it could be argued, for instance, that riche is not a particularly good parallel for buen in the light of the following French examples: «Abanz iront en destre li bon cheval»
(Girart de Roussillon, l. 1601) and «En destre font mener les bons destriers»
(Aymeri de Narbonne, l. 2134)52. And If we are to accept the possible argument that the poet of the PMC could have substituted buen for riche in imitating the line from Florence, then we must equally accept that he could have performed an inversion such as that which would be necessary to produce «li bon cheval en destre» from the line in Girart de Roussillon. In general, formulaic material such as that advanced by Smith in these two instances is not reliable evidence of literary dependence upon particular works53.
Quite apart from the question of chronology, which is itself of primary importance, none of the parallels offered by either Walker or Smith is thus sufficiently convincing to make it probable that Florence de Rome was known to the author of the PMC. In the case of the afrenta de Corpes, the relation of this major episode to European traditions is far more complex than Walker's attempt to find a single source would allow. The martyrological tradition has been shown by Walsh and Nepaulsingh to contain detailed parallels for many of its constituent elements; similar parallels, not only for the details but also for the overall situation, can be found in classical myth. This is in addition to any possible contribution from folk-tradition, in which, besides the elements noted by Gifford, tales of abandonment in forests abound54. Until the interaction of learned classical and ecclesiastical traditions, popular folklore, and vernacular literature is better understood, it would be inadvisable to take a simplistic view of the genesis of the afrenta de Corpes. Until there has been a detailed and comprehensive comparison of the Spanish and French epic traditions, it would be premature to claim with excessive confidence that similarities between individual works in the two traditions are the results of direct influence, save in the most closely defined and rigorously examined circumstances55.