The Anti-Homeric Tradition in La Araucana

The Anti-Homeric Tradition in La Araucana BRYCE W. MAXEY Yale University l Abstract In this article, I argue against the claim made by various scholars that Ercilla imitates Homer’s Iliad in La Araucana. I propose, to the contrary, that the Spanish poet’s allusions to the story of the Trojan War derive from his familiarity with the anti-Homeric tradition stemming from Dictys’s Ephemeris belli troiani and Dares’s De excidio troiae historia. I suggest that these chronicles and their multiple adaptations during the Middle Ages – especially the Historia troyana polimétrica – constitute essential sources for Ercilla’s prologue to Part One, the fall of the Araucanian fort in Mataquito in Cantos 13–14, and the architecture of Fitón’s cave in Canto 23. Like Ercilla, Dictys and Dares construct their chronicles as historiography, claiming to have participated as eyewitnesses in the events they narrate. At times Ercilla writes from the perspective of the Spaniards, while on other occasions he describes the war from the natives’ viewpoint. Through his reading of Dictys and Dares, who offer rival accounts of the Trojan war – the first pro-Trojan, the second pro-Greek – Ercilla found a model for the creation of alternating perspectives of the same historical event. Resumen En este artículo, rechazo las afirmaciones de varios críticos que Ercilla imita la Ilíada de Homero en La Araucana. Propongo, por lo contrario, que sus alusiones a la historia de Troya derivan de su familiaridad con la tradición anti-homérica proveniente de Ephemeris belli troiani de Dictis y De excidio troiae historia de Dares. Sugiero que estas crónicas y sus múltiples adaptaciones medievales –especialmente la Historia troyana polimétrica– constituyen fuentes insoslayables para el prólogo a la Primera Parte, la destrucción de la fortaleza araucana en Mataquito en los Cantos 13–14 y la arquitectura de la cueva de Fitón en el Canto 23. Al igual que Ercilla, Dictis y Dares construyen sus crónicas como historiografía, afirmando haber participado como testigos oculares en los eventos que narran. Por momentos Ercilla escribe desde la perspectiva de los españoles, mientras que en otros describe la guerra desde el punto de vista de los nativos. Mediante su lectura de Dictis y Dares, quienes ofrecen dos visiones divergentes de la guerra de Troya –la primera pro-troyana, la segunda pro-griega– Ercilla halló un modelo para la creación de perspectivas alternantes de un mismo evento histórico. BHS 96.1 (2019) https://doi.org/10.3828/bhs.2019.5 70 Bryce W. Maxey bhs, 96 (2019) In numerous passages throughout La Araucana Alonso de Ercilla y Zúñiga alludes to the story of the Trojan War. In Canto 7, for example, he compares the fall of Concepción to the destruction of Troy. In Cantos 13–14, during the Spanish siege of the Araucanian fort in Mataquito Valley, he casts Lautaro and Guacolda as a new Hector and Andromache. The tradition of viewing Ercilla’s epic through a Homeric lens dates to Juan de Guzmán’s famous claim that Ercilla was a Spanish Homer (see n. 3). Bartolomé Jiménez Patón later reiterated the comparison in Elocuencia española (Jiménez Patón, 1604: 18).1 In the ‘Soneto de don Francisco de Mendoza’, the second of two poems preceding Canto 1 in the 1569 edition of La Araucana, Mendoza refers to Ercilla as Homer’s equal: ‘Ygualando al mejor en cada cosa, / A Achiles en valor, y en verso a Homero’ (Ercilla y Zúñiga 2011: 13–14).2 Similarly, the anonymous author of one of the paratextual poems in the 1589/90 edition, ‘Soneto a don Alonso de Ercilla’, writes that, among other poetic forebears, Ercilla surpasses (‘[pasa] delante a todos fácilmente’ [2011: 11]) Virgil and Homer, ‘Marón de mantua y de Smirna Homero’ (2). Throughout the centuries following the poem’s publication, scholars have suggested that the Iliad exerted considerable influence on the poem. In his essay on epic poetry, Voltaire compared Ercilla’s Colocolo to Homer’s Nestor (1829: 309–13). George Irving Dale (1922) published an article on the Homeric simile in La Araucana, and Victor Manuel Orellana (2009) recently wrote about the Homeric lineage of Lautaro.3 Each of these scholars, however, based their claims on certain assumptions – that Ercilla had access to the Iliad in Latin or Spanish, and that he not only read the poem but also felt inspired enough to imitate it – either Homer’s poetic technique as Dale argues (1922: 233–44) or his shaping of characters as Orellana (2009) suggests. Yet there is abundant evidence that Ercilla’s familiarity with the story of the Trojan War derived from another tradition altogether. Regarding what has come to be known as the ‘orthodox’ Homeric tradition, Ercilla could have had access to a Latin translation of the Iliad and to the Ilias latina (c. 60–70 CE) – an abridged version of Homer’s poem attributed to Publius Baebius Italicus. Juan de Mena translated the Ilias latina into Spanish, entitling his work Sumas de la Yliada de Omero (c. 1442–44), and Ercilla may have read this 1 2 3 ‘Juan de Guzmán se contaba entre los mejores discípulos del Brocense; contemporáneo fue de la publicación de La Araucana y autor del Convite de oradores, donde escribió rotundamente que teníamos un Homero en Ercilla. Bartolomé Jiménez Patón dijo el año de 1621 en su Elocuencia española que muchos llamaban a D. Alonso de Ercilla el Homero de España’ (Ercilla y Zúñiga 1866: XLIII). The source for English translations of Dares and Dictys is Frazer (1966). The source for the Latin version of Dares is Meister (1878). When quoting Ercilla, I use Lerner’s edition and cite part, canto, stanza, and then line. All quotations to the Historia troyana polimétrica are by page numbers in Larrea Velasco’s critical edition. Many other scholars, including Manuel José Quintana, Martínez de la Rosa, Menéndez Pelayo (see Alegría 1954), and María Victoria Vega de Febles (1991) mention Homer’s influence on La Araucana. bhs, 96 (2019) The Anti-Homeric Tradition in La Araucana translation.4 Furthermore, he was a careful reader of Virgil’s Aeneid and of Ovid’s Metamorphoses. Both poems contain passages based on Homer that depict the Trojan War. Ercilla read widely in Latin, but there is no indication that he ever studied Greek.5 Leontius Pilatus had translated the Iliad from Greek into Latin in 1362, and other humanists wrote their own translations by building upon Pilatus’s text.6 These often partial translations began to appear in print across Europe by the end of the fifteenth century, and Ercilla could have had access to one or more of them.7 4 5 6 7 Cyrus Moore states that Mena’s translation (see Mena 1996) ‘remained popular for many years’ and ‘was commissioned by Juan II […] shortly before a partial Spanish version, the first, was made of the genuine Virgilian text by the son of the Marqués de Santillana between 1446 and 1452 […]. The simultaneous production of such disparate versions of Homer’s poem reflects early humanist scholarship and, more specifically, the mix of orthodox, heterodox, and eclectic literary traditions characteristic of medieval and Siglo de Oro Spain’ (Moore 2003: 63). Ercilla was a careful reader and imitator of another of Mena’s works, the Laberinto de Fortuna (1444). In octave 89, Mena refers to two conflicting versions of Aeneas: the traitor in Dares and Dictys and the hero of the Aeneid (see Mena 1979). Both Mena and Iñigo López de Mendoza were familiar with Dares and Dictys since they refer to them in their poetry. For example, in stanza 50 of El sueño, López de Mendoza evokes ‘Guido’, ‘Daires’, and ‘Dites’ (López de Mendoza XLIX, ll. 385–92). Scholars disagree about the extent of Ercilla’s education and linguistic expertise. In the seventeenth century, Diego de Saavedra Fajardo affirmed that Ercilla ‘por la ocupación de las armas […] no pudo acaudalar la erudición que para estos estudios se requiere’ (2006: 140). José Toribio Medina agreed that although he was educated in the court of Felipe II under the supervision of the royal historiographer and humanist Cristóbal Calvete de Estrella, his command of Latin and Italian was probably limited; and that he most likely read works by Virgil, Ovid, Lucan, and Ariosto in Spanish translations (Toribio Medina 1948: 23–26). Recent scholarship tends to disagree. Corominas (1980: 8) argues that Ercilla’s studies under Calvete de Estrella would have exposed him to some Greek. Quint’s, Nicolopulos’s and Kallendorf’s analyses of specific passages in La Araucana suggest that Ercilla was working with Latin texts of the Aeneid and De bello civili. See Cyrus Moore’s discussion (2003: 27–28). In 1405 Leonardo Bruni translated part of Iliad, Book 9. Around 1441, Pier Candido Decembrio translated books 1–4 and 10, and in 1444, Lorenzo Valla completed a prose version of the first 17 books. Valla’s translation was printed in 1474 and transformed into a schoolbook in 1520. In 1561, Nicholas Brylinger and Sébastien Castellion published a bilingual edition in Latin and Greek (see González Rolán and del Barrio in Mena 1996: 50). Gonzalo Pérez published a thirteen-book translation of the Odyssey in 1550 (Salamanca, Antwerp) and a complete translation in 1556 (Antwerp). Guichard (2006) states that the first complete Spanish edition of the Iliad did not appear until 1788. Regarding Dares and Dictys in Spain, he writes: ‘hasta la traducción de Pérez e incluso después de ella, y debido sin duda a que no se contaba con una traducción española de la Ilíada, las obras del ciclo troyano medieval (Dares y Dictis, la Historia destructionis Troiae de Guido delle Colonne y las diferentes versiones de la Crónica troyana), así como la traducción de la Ilias Latina realizada por el poeta Juan de Mena, siguieron siendo muy apreciadas en España’ (Guichard 2006: 50–52). See also Beardsley 1970; Serés 1997; Baldissera 2015. In an essay on Góngora’s Soledades, Christopher Johnson (2011) claims that Mena’s translation of the Ilias Latina influenced Ercilla and that La Araucana constitutes a break from the Dares-Dictys tradition: ‘Many sixteenth-century Spanish readers of Homer still depended on digests, such as the Ilias Latina […]. This formed the basis for Juan de Mena’s delightful 1442 version of the Iliad “en romance”, which influences Góngora’s invention, as well as Alonso de Ercilla’s epic, La Araucana (1589). While still very much a digest, Mena’s text 71 72 Bryce W. Maxey bhs, 96 (2019) After a careful examination of Ercilla’s references to the Trojan War there are details that point to the poet’s familiarity with an alternative tradition – often referred to as the ‘anti-Homeric’ or ‘unorthodox’ tradition – that stems from two chronicles in prose which purport to be eyewitness accounts by authors who claimed to have participated as soldiers in the Trojan War: Dictys’s Ephemeris belli troiani (c. fourth century CE) and Dares’s De excidio troiae historia (c. fifth century CE). During the Middle Ages, while Homer’s Iliad was lost in the West, Dictys’s and Dares’s Latin chronicles increasingly became the hegemonic accounts of the Trojan War. They appealed to medieval readers’ desire for historical authenticity since the authors claimed that their accounts were more legitimate than Homer’s. Both affirmed that they participated as eyewitnesses in the Trojan War, though on opposing sides. Dares the Phrygian stated that he fought for the Trojans, while Dictys of Crete maintained that he waged war for the Greeks. They allegedly composed their texts at least a century before Homer. Since both had been translated into Latin by the sixth century, their works were more accessible to the medieval reader than Homer’s. During the Middle Ages, copyists generated countless manuscripts of Dares’s and Dictys’s texts in Latin. Due to their brevity, both accounts often appeared together. Dares’s pro-Trojan version was more popular in western Europe, where aristocratic families often attempted to trace their lineage back to the Trojans, while Dictys’s pro-Hellenic chronicle was more prevalent in the Byzantine Empire. The two accounts were not only widely read but also frequently translated and rewritten. Benoît de Sainte-Maure composed the Roman de Troie around 1160, a highly influential version of the story of Troy based on Dares and Dictys (see Benoît de Sainte-Maure 1871). About a century later in Spain, the Historia troyana polimétrica (c. 1270) appeared, an anonymous, incomplete Spanish translation of the Roman de Troie blending verse and prose.8 Other Spanish adaptations of Dares’s and Dictys’s chronicles, mediated by the influence of Benoît de SainteMaure’s poem, include a retelling of the story of Troy in the anonymous Libro de Alexandre (c. 1178–1250) and over one hundred chapters about the Trojan War in Alfonso X’s General Estoria (c. 1270).9 In 1287, Guido de Columnis wrote the Historia destructionis Troiae, a translation of the Roman de Troie back into Latin, which Pedro de Chinchilla (1998) later translated into Castilian in 1443.10 8 9 10 amplifies many episodes as well. His adaptation also signals an important break with the medieval custom of using Dictis and Dares as the chief Homeric sources. La Araucana chronicles the Spanish conquest of Chile with great sympathy for the resisting Indians. Mena’s Homer seems to have been drawn on by Ercilla in his extended similes, though his debts are mainly to Virgil, Lucan, and Ariosto’ (Johnson 2011: 157–58). The General Estoria (Alfonso X 2001–2009) encompasses verses 5, 703–715, 567 of the Roman de Troie. Libro de Alexandre 1988: stanzas 335–772; General Estoria, see Alfonso X 2001–2009: chs 449–603; 612. Jacme Conesa translated the Historia destructionis Troiae into Catalan in 1374, and Juan Fernández de Heredia translated it into Aragonese c. 1390. Another version of the story of Troy attributed to Leomarte’s Sumas de historia troyana (1350; see Leomarte 1932), derives bhs, 96 (2019) The Anti-Homeric Tradition in La Araucana The popularity of Dares’s and Dictys’s chronicles and their multiple translations and adaptations began to wane during the sixteenth century in the face of the increasing dissemination of Homer’s Iliad, either in Latin or translated into one of the romance languages (del Barrio and López 2001: 164). During Ercilla’s lifetime and for more than a century after the poet’s death Dares’s and Dictys’s accounts were nevertheless still held in high esteem in Spain. In the early seventeenth century, for example, Lope de Vega evoked Dares in his hagiographical epic poem Isidro (1599).11 According to María Dolores Peláez, until the end of the seventeenth century Dares’s and Dictys’s chronicles were read and understood in Spain as factual, authoritative diaries of soldiers who participated in the Trojan War.12 Ercilla’s reliance not on the Iliad but rather on the anti-Homeric tradition – either Dares’s and Dictys’s accounts themselves, one of their medieval adaptations, or a combination – can be perceived in three passages in La Araucana. The first is the prologue to Part One, modelled on Dares’s and Dictys’s prefaces. The second is the fall of the Araucanian fort in Cantos 13–14, in which Ercilla casts Lautaro and Guacolda as Dares’s Hector and Andromache. The third is in Canto 23, in which Ercilla models Fitón’s cave on the palace where Hector recovers from an arrow wound in the Historia troyana polimétrica. Ercilla’s Prologue to Part One Unlike Homer’s Iliad or the epic poems that Ercilla imitates most closely in Part One, La Araucana begins rather surprisingly with a prologue in prose. Scholars often refer to the ideas that Ercilla expresses in this preface, but no one has considered how unusual it is for an epic to begin not in verse, but in prose.13 Without precedent in epic poetry, the nature of the prologue corresponds to a different genre altogether – to historiography. Readers during the Middle Ages and the early modern period believed Dares’s and Dictys’s chronicles to be authoritative. In fact, not Herodotus but Dares and Dictys were considered by many the fathers of historiography.14 Dares’s work 11 12 13 14 from the General Estoria, the Primera Crónica General, and Columnis’s Historia destructionis Troiae. None of these works contains the specific details regarding the story of Troy that appear in La Araucana. ‘Y pues que Darete frigio / escribió en loores vanos / de los griegos y troyanos’ (Vega Carpio 2010: 10). Peláez (in Chinchilla 1998: 16) affirms: ‘Los relatos de Dares y Dictis fueron leídos como diarios de soldados durante la Edad Media y el Renacimiento, pues no fue hasta el siglo XVIII cuando Jacob Perizonius demostró en una disertación previa a la edición de 1702 que eran testimonios apócrifos’. Dante’s letter to Cangrande della Scala preceding Paradiso (see Hollander 1993) can be considered an example of a prose preface to an arguably epic poem. Ronsard’s Franciade also begins with a preface ‘Au lecteur’ (see Ronsard 2010: 3). Ercilla may have read the Divina Commedia but was probably not familiar with Ronsard’s poem. In Etymologiae (c. 600–625) Isidore of Seville refers to Dares as one of the first pagan historians: ‘Among us Christians, Moses was the first to write a history, on creation. But among 73 74 Bryce W. Maxey bhs, 96 (2019) begins with a short letter prefacing his account of the Trojan War, and Dictys’s text includes a brief letter and a separate preface (del Barrio Vega and López 2001). The Spanish poet’s idea for a prologue, as well as its content, seem to derive from his reading of Dares and Dictys.15 Certain details in Ercilla’s prologue to Part One bear striking similarities to these preliminary texts. The Spanish poet may have imitated the rhetorical strategies that appear in these prefaces to enhance the effect of authenticity in Part One. As do Dares and Dictys, Ercilla in his prologue insists upon the historical authenticity of his account of warfare in Arauco. He provides information regarding the time, place, and means of the poem’s composition. Though there is no evidence indicating precisely when he began his epic, here Ercilla states that he composed Part One while he was still fighting in Chile, in the poco tiempo que para escribir hay con la ocupación de la guerra, que no da lugar a ello; y así, el que pude hurtar, le gasté en este libro, el cual, se hizo en la misma guerra y en los mismos pasos y sitios […] escribiendo muchas veces en cuero por falta de papel, y en pedazos de cartas, algunos tan pequeños que apenas cabían seis versos, que no me costó después poco trabajo juntarlos. (Ercilla y Zúñiga 2011: 71) Ercilla was not present as an eyewitness for the majority of the episodes he narrates in the poem’s first volume. In the prologue and throughout the first instalment he conceals the fact that he found most of the historical material needed to write Part One in Jerónimo de Vivar’s Crónica y relación copiosa y verdadera de los reinos de Chile (1558; see Vivar 1988). In the passage cited above, he claims that he composed Part One on Chilean soil during the war against the Araucanians. By underscoring that he was forced to write on leather or pieces of letters, he paints an image in the reader’s mind of the precarious circumstances surrounding the poem’s composition, including the very materials which served as its pages. In a subtle yet compelling fashion, he draws the reader’s attention to the countless hardships he endured while fighting in Arauco, and, more importantly, he insists upon the authenticity of his historical epic. He implies that he witnessed warfare in Arauco and then immediately recorded what he saw. Though he may have composed some of Part One while still in Arauco, Ercilla probably either transformed his notes into polished poetry after García Hurtado de Mendoza exiled him to Peru in 1559 or following his return to Spain in 1563. The assertion that he composed the poem during the Chilean campaign is most likely an exaggeration – a fiction of authenticity to imbue his account with retrospective immediacy and to construct and project an image of himself as the perfect Renaissance combination of arms and letters, soldier and poet. 15 the Pagans, Dares the Phrygian was first to publish a history, on the Greeks and Trojans, which they say he wrote on palm leaves. After Dares, Herodotus is held as the first to write history in Greece’ (2006: 67). The Historia troyana polimétrica also began with a prologue, but it has been lost (Larrea Velasco 2012: 32). The lost prologue may have resembled Dares’s and Dictys’s preliminary texts, and Ercilla may have imitated it in his own preface. If so, it is possible that he would not have had to look beyond the Historia troyana polimétrica for the unorthodox story of the Troy. bhs, 96 (2019) The Anti-Homeric Tradition in La Araucana The preliminary texts of Dares and Dictys use similar mechanisms to convince readers of their authenticity. Both authors claimed to have participated in the Trojan War as eyewitnesses. They were soldiers as well as writers. In the letter preceding Dares’s account, ‘Cornelius Nepos’ maintains that he allegedly came across the manuscript in Athens and immediately began to translate it into Latin. He explains that he discovered the ‘historiam Daretis Phrygii, ipsius manu scriptam’ (Meister 1873: 1) [this history was written in Dares’s own hand] (1966) and he further asserts: ‘ut legentes cognoscere possent, quomodo res gestae essent: utrum verum magis existiment quod Dares Phrygius memoriae commendavit, qui per id ipsum tempus vixit et militavit, cum Graeci Troianos oppugnarent; anne Homero credendum, qui post multos annos natus est’ (Meister 1873: 1). [Thus my readers can know exactly what happened according to this account and judge for themselves whether Dares the Phrygian or Homer wrote the more truthfully – Dares, who lived and fought at the time the Greeks stormed Troy, or Homer, who was born long after the war was over] (1966). Nepos insists that Dares participated in the events he narrates and that his work should therefore be considered more reliable than the Iliad, which Homer composed centuries after the Trojan War ended. Similar declarations can be found throughout Dictys’s and Dares’s chronicles. Ercilla’s statements regarding the materiality of the medium on which he wrote can be traced to Dictys’s prefatory texts. In a prologue that follows the Latin translator’s epistle, a voice in the third person explains that Dictys wrote the annales belli Troiani in Phoenician characters and on linden bark, ‘in tilias digessit Phoeniceis litteris’ (Ní-Mheallaigh 2012: 183).16 Ercilla similarly describes the material on which he wrote – leather and pieces of letters. Moreover, in Part Three during an expedition to southern Chile, he affirms that he carves words into the bark of a tree on the island of Chiloé.17 Though based on Dares and Dictys, the fiction of authenticity that Ercilla crafts in his prologue surpasses the rhetorical effectiveness of the assertions put forth in his precursors’ paratexts. In a unified voice in the first person, the Spanish poet himself presents his epic as a true history, integrating into his prologue the scattered rhetorical claims presented by multiple authorial voices in Dares and Dictys regarding the circumstances of his poem’s composition. An epistola precedes both Dares’s and Dictys’s chronicles. This detail may have motivated Ercilla to state that he composed his poem on pieces of letters. 16 17 Karen Ní Mheallaigh (2012) examines the fiction of translation in the letter and preface to Dictys’s chronicle. Following the Spanish victory at Ongolmo, Ercilla sets off on a journey south (Cantos 35–36) and takes on a new role as an explorer. Crossing the southern limits of Arauco, he and a small crew eventually reach the island of Chiloé on 28 February 1558. In Canto 36, he writes that he carved a message into the bark of a large tree: ‘Aquí llegó, donde otro no ha llegado / don Alonso de Ercilla’ (Ercilla de Zúñiga 2011: 3.36.29.1–2). His words are a testament not only to his ambition as a discoverer, but also to his accomplishments as a literary pioneer (Maxey 2017). Peter Kruschwitz (2010) has examined the tradition of writing on trees in Greek and Latin literature. 75 76 Bryce W. Maxey bhs, 96 (2019) According to José Toribio Medina (1910–18), Ercilla wrote at least two letters to Felipe II, though neither has survived. In the first, he summarized the events that he witnessed in Arauco, and in the second he gave an account of his services rendered to the crown while in Chile. In Parts Two and Three of La Araucana, it is as if the poet transformed what could have been multiple cartas or relaciones de méritos y servicios into poetry. Pedro de Valdivia’s letters were one of Ercilla’s other sources for Part One. Moreover, La Araucana itself can be seen as a long letter in verse to Philip II. Its epistolary nature comes to the forefront in the numerous passages in its three volumes, in which Ercilla speaks directly to his addressee, the king. The combination of epic, historiography, letter, and novel in Dares’s and Dictys’s chronicles also characterizes La Araucana.18 Though medieval readers believed Dares’s and Dictys’s declarations that they truly participated in the Trojan War, by the Renaissance scholars began to cast doubt upon the authenticity of their accounts. Regardless of whether or not Ercilla trusted their claims to historical truth, he seems to have been interested in the strategies they utilized to present their chronicles as legitimate. Ercilla may have looked to them deliberately to seek specific techniques to render his work more ‘historical’, especially since in Part One he was absent from most of the episodes he narrates. In fact, of the three books of La Araucana, Part One is the volume in which Ercilla concerns himself most with historical verisimilitude. Paradoxically, Parts Two and three, in which Ercilla portrays himself as a protagonist who participates in the events of the poem, contain many more pages of marvels and fantastic – evidently fictional – inventions. Lautaro and Guacolda’s Prophetic Dreams Perhaps the clearest indication of Ercilla’s familiarity with the anti-Homeric tradition is his rewriting of the Hector and Andromache story in Cantos 13–14. First in Dares’s chronicle and later in Benoît de Sainte-Maure’s Roman de Troie (c. 1160), in the Historia troyana polimétrica (c. 1270), in the Libro de Alexandre (c. 1178–1250), and in Pedro de Chinchilla’s Libro de la historia troyana (1443), Andromache has a nightmare that prophesies her husband’s death.19 Homer’s Andromache fears 18 19 Dares’s and Dictys’s chronicles ‘son textos híbridos que participan de la épica, de la historiografía y de la novela. Tienen de épica el argumento, de historiografía las pretensiones de autenticidad, la ausencia de elementos sobrenaturales […] el constante apoyo del testimonio visual del propio autor o de oídas a partir de otros testigos presenciales, el estilo narrativo siguiendo el orden de los sucesos […]. Tienen de novela […] no sólo la prosa y no sólo el abandono de los personajes divinos y sobrenaturales, sino sobre todo la importancia que se concede al tema amoroso y a las figuras femeninas’ (del Barrio Vega and López 2001: 121). There are other possible sources for the episode, though Dares’s chronicle is the most convincing: Calpurnia’s dream foretelling Caesar’s death in Suetonius’s (Lives of the Caesars (2014: 1.81–82) and Plutarch’s Life of Caesar (2011: 63–66); Alcyone’s dream in Metamorphoses (Ovid 1998, 11: 633–748), in which Morpheus visits her in the form of her dead husband, Ceyx; Atalanta’s nightmares that portend the death of her son, Parthenopaeus in The Thebaid (Statius 2004: 9.570–669); and a scene in Orlando furioso (Ariosto 1993: 30.31–46), in which Doralice begs Mandricard not to face Ruggiero in a duel. bhs, 96 (2019) The Anti-Homeric Tradition in La Araucana for Hector’s life but at no time foresees his death in a dream.20 In Cantos 13–14, Ercilla models the Araucanian fort in Mataquito Valley on the Trojan citadel, and he casts Lautaro and Guacolda as Hector and Andromache. In Vivar’s (1558) depiction of Lautaro’s death, Francisco de Villagra and his men attack the fort at dawn and kill the Amerindian chief (Vivar 1998). While the historian briefly mentions Lautaro’s demise as little more than an inconsequential detail (‘Aquí murió el Lautaro’ [1998]), Ercilla draws out the scene over the course of 33 octaves spanning the final stanzas of Canto 13 and the opening octaves of Canto 14. Elevating the fall of the Amerindian stronghold to epic and tragic proportions, he carefully constructs Lautaro as an Araucanian Hector by having him embody numerous aspects of the hero from the losing side in the Trojan War as portrayed by Dares and by the anonymous author of the Historia troyana polimétrica. The episode begins as Ercilla recounts the couple’s final night together: ‘Aquella noche el bárbaro dormía / con la bella Guacolda enamorada, / a quien él de encendido amor amaba / y ella por él no menos abrasaba’ (Ercilla y Zúñiga 2011: 1.13.43.5–8). The poet endows Lautaro and Guacolda with heroic qualities, humanizing the couple by portraying their noble feelings of love and affection, even in the midst of warfare and destruction. After falling asleep, Lautaro suddenly awakens, troubled by a nightmare: ‘Los ojos le cerró un sueño pesado, / del cual luego despierta congojoso, / y la bella Guacolda sin aliento / la causa le pregunta y sentimiento’ (2011: 1.13.44.5–8). In the dream, Ercilla has violent visions of death disrupt the slumber of the Araucanian couple. During the spouses’ nocturnal fantasies, the poet merges love and warfare as the unclothed husband embraces his wife, and both simultaneously envisage his looming death. Lautaro’s prostrate position while resting with Guacolda foreshadows his looming downfall at dawn. Lautaro tells Guacolda that, in his dream, an arrogant Spaniard was squeezing his heart with his hand: sabrás que yo soñaba en este instante que un soberbio español se me ponía con muestra ferocísima delante y con violenta mano me oprimía la fuerza y corazón, sin ser bastante de poderme valer; (1.14.45.2–7) After hearing Lautaro’s dream, Guacolda trembles, realizing that she has dreamed the same nightmare: ‘Ella en esto soltó la voz turbada / diciendo ¡Ay, que he soñado también cuanto / de mi dicha temí, y es ya llegada / la fin tuya y principio de mi llanto!’ (1.14.46.1–4). In Ercilla’s innovative rewriting of Dares and his tradition, both Lautaro and Guacolda have the same nightmare. The fact 20 Andromache’s nightmare does not appear in Dictys’s chronicle or in the Ilias Latina. Though Lautaro’s words about the importance of honour in Canto 13.51 are vaguely similar to Hector’s speech in The Iliad (Homer 1951: 6.441–46), the Homeric scene lacks Andromache’s dream. 77 78 Bryce W. Maxey bhs, 96 (2019) that both husband and wife have the same dream heightens the scene’s pathos by intensifying the tragic inescapability of Lautaro’s fate. Ercilla’s source for the episode was most likely his reading of Dares’s De excidio troiae historia or one of the medieval adaptations of the chronicle. Dares offers the following portrayal of Hector and Andromache’s final moments together: At ubi tempus pugnae superuenit Andromacha uxor Hectoris in somnis uidit Hectorem non debere in pugnam procedere: et cum ad eum uisum referret, Hector muliebria uerba abicit. Andromacha maesta misit ad Priamum, ut illi prohibeat ne ea die pugnaret [...]. Hector ut ista audiuit, multa increpans Andromacham arma ut proferret poposcit nec retineri ullo modo potuit. Maesta Andromacha summissis capillis Astyanactem filium protendens ante pedes Hectoris eum reuocare non potuit. Tunc planctu femineo oppidum concitat, ad Priamum in regiam currit, refert quae in somnis uiderit uelle Hectorem ueloci saltu in pugnam ire, proiectoque ad genua Astyanacte filio suo eum reuocare mandat. Priamus omnes in pugnam prodire iussit, Hectorem retinuit [...]. Hector ut audiuit tumultum Troianosque in bello saeue laborare, prosiluit in pugnam. (28–29) [Andromache, Hector’s wife, had a dream which forbade Hector to enter the fray. He, however, dismissed this vision as due to her wifely concern. She, being deeply upset, sent word to Priam to keep her husband out of the battle that day […]. Hector, on learning of this, bitterly blamed Andromache and told her to bring forth his armor; nothing, he said, could keep him from battle. She tried in vain to make him relent, falling at his feet, like a woman in mourning, her hair let down, holding the baby, their son Astyanax, out in her hands. Then, rushing to the palace, her wailing rousing the city as she went, she told King Priam how she had dreamt that Hector would eagerly leap into battle; and, holding Astyanax, she knelt before him and begged him not to allow this. Accordingly, Priam sent all the others to battle, but kept Hector back […]. But Hector, hearing the tumult and knowing that the Trojans were being hard pressed, leaped into battle.] (Frazer 1966) Despite differences – the Araucanian couple has no child and there is no Priamlike character who forbids Lautaro from fighting – the scene bears striking similarities to the final conversation between Lautaro and Guacolda before the Amerindian leader’s death. Like Andromache, Guacolda has a dream foretelling her husband’s death. Hector dismisses her warning as muliebria uerba (womanly words), and Lautaro similarly reassures Guacolda in the following passage: no os dé un sueño, señora, tal cuidado, pues no os lo puede dar lo verdadero, que ya a poner estoy acostumbrado mi fortuna a mayor despeñadero; en más peligros que éste me he metido y dellos con honor siempre he salido. (Ercilla y Zúñiga 2011 1.13.51.3–8) Lautaro comforts his wife, reminding her of his previous resilience and of the countless dangers that he has faced in the past. By endowing Lautaro with arrogance, Ercilla further likens the Araucanian leader to Hector. Both Dares and Ercilla also specifically focus on the hero’s armour. In Dares, Hector orders bhs, 96 (2019) The Anti-Homeric Tradition in La Araucana Andromache to bring him his armour against her wishes. In Ercilla, after Lautaro convinces his wife not to worry, she asks that if he insists on fighting, he should exercise extreme caution and wear his armour. Hector rebukes Andromache for asking Priam to restrain him from participating in combat (‘multum increpans Andromacham’), and Lautaro similarly reprimands Guacolda for her lack of confidence in him: ‘asegúrala, esfuerza y reprehende / de la desconfianza que mostraba’ (2011: 1.14.13.3–4). Furthermore, both Dares and Ercilla similarly emphasize Hector’s and Lautaro’s swiftness to jump into perilous situations.21 Dares writes that Hector ‘leaps into battle’ (‘prosiliit in bellum’), and the Spanish poet has Lautaro spring up from the matrimonial bed and rush outside to meet his death.22 In chapters 111–13 of the Historia troyana polimétrica, there are also numerous similarities to Cantos 13–14: ‘Andrómaca, yaziendo en su lecho dormiendo, apareçiole en visión yaqual de aquellos que ella orava, e dixol nuevas çiertas que non podríe escapar don Héctor en ninguna guisa que non fuese muerto otro día si por aventura fuese a la batalla. E quando Andrómaca oyó aquesto, ovo tan gran coita e tan gran pesar que oviera a morir por ello’ (228). As in Dares’s chronicle, Andromache discovers in a dream that if Hector returns to the battlefield, he will perish. The morning after the nightmare, she confronts her husband, begging him to remain home: Mi amigo e mi señor, mi mandado vos he yo de dezir, el más fuerte e el más peor que yo nunca cuidé oír, e bien sé que vos pesará e me querredes mal por ende. Mas como quier que vos pese, non puedo estar que vos lo non diga […]. E pues, señor, sabed que non plaze a los dios que vos vayades cras a la batalla, ante lo han todos defendido, ca esta noche me paresçieron en visión e dexieronme que non podiedes escapar en ninguna guisa que cras non seades muerto si salides a la batalla. E por ende, hermano e señor, pídovos de merçed que non vayades allá e que vos dolades de mí e non querades pasar la voluntad de los dios nin ir contra el su mandado. (Larrea Velasco 2012: 228) Andromache’s words anger Hector, who refuses to obey her ominous forebodings, calling them madness. To prevent him from returning to battle, she hides his armour: ‘Andrómaca, sospirando e llorando con muy gran coita que avía, non sabía qué fazer de sí, e tomó las armas de don Héctor e ascondiolas, por tal que 21 22 ‘Revuelto el manto al brazo, en el instante / con un desnudo estoque y él desnudo, / corre a la puerta el bárbaro arrogante, / al armarse así tan súbito no pudo’ (1.14.15.1–4). The narrator of the Libro de Alexandre refers to Andromache in the following stanza: ‘La muger de don Éctor, Andrómacal dizién, / – todos bien dizién della quantos la veyén–, / temiés de su marido que ge lo matarién / que unos malos sueños siempre la persiguién’ (1988: 569). The anonymous author briefly alludes to the nightmares of Andromache before narrating Hector’s death. The detail of the dream proves that the author of the Libro de Alexandre based his rendition of the Trojan War on Dares’s chronicle or on one of its medieval adaptations. Due to the brevity of the allusion to Andromache’s dream, however, it is likely that Ercilla’s source for the episode was either Dares’s chronicle itself, the Historia troyana polimétrica, or Pedro de Chinchilla’s) Libro de la historia troyana (1443) (Chinchilla 1998) since they offer lengthier, more developed portrayals of the scene preceding Hector’s demise. 79 80 Bryce W. Maxey bhs, 96 (2019) las non fallase si se quisiese armar’ (230). This detail may have inspired Ercilla to attribute Hector’s death to his lack of armour. In Andromache’s final, desperate effort to retain Hector, she throws herself to the ground ‘de dientes’ (234), severely injuring her face. Still, she cannot persuade her husband to remain home. His sense of duty and honour outweighs his fear of death.23 Unlike Guacolda, the Trojan matron in the Historia troyana polimétrica (see Larrea Velasco 2012) does everything in her power to force her husband to remain home. She asks the king to forbid his participation in the combat, and she even hides his armour. Though distraught, Lautaro’s wife understands that her husband must fight, and despite her ominous forebodings, she stoically encourages him to prepare himself to face the Spaniards by putting on his armour and lining up his men: ‘que a lo menos me deis este contento/ …y es que os vistáis las armas prestamente / y al muro asista en orden vuestra gente’ (Ercilla de Zúñiga 2011: 1.14.53.5; 7–8). Guacolda’s love for her homeland and her commitment to her husband are such that she promises to die alongside her spouse: ‘que no caerá tu cuerpo en tierra frío / cuando estará en el suelo muerto el mío’ (2011: 1.14.47.7–8) – a promise that Andromache does not make. Such details aid in Ercilla’s construction of the Araucanians as unprecedented, fearlessly willing to sacrifice everything to expel the Spaniards from their homeland. Lautaro’s death in Canto 14 does not exactly correspond to what Lautaro and Guacolda envisage in their parallel nightmares: a proud Spaniard standing before the Amerindian chief and squeezing his heart with his hand, slowly draining his strength. In the face of the dearth of information that Vivar (1988) provides regarding the details of Lautaro’s demise, Ercilla invents not only the dream sequence but also the cause of death. The oneiric vision only indirectly anticipates the stray arrow that ends Lautaro’s life. Since the poet invents both the dream and the cause of death, he endows the nocturnal vision with symbolic 23 A similar scene appears in Pedro de Chinchilla’s Libro de la historia troyana: ‘Andrómaca […] vido en sueños de Héctor asaz terrible visión, afirmando que si Héctor aquel día a la batalla saliese, convenía que en ella muriese. Pues Andrómaca de tal visión espantada […] e osada fue esa noche donde con Héctor yazía manifestarle aquellas visión, suplicándole con piadosos ruegos e lágrimas qu’el […] a la batalla de sallir escusase. Héctor las palabras de la mujer reprehendía muncho indignado, e con muncha graveza de palabras le castigava, afirmando non ser sabiduría creer a la vanidat de los sueños, que a los soñantes engañan […] Andrómaca al rey Príamo e a Éccuba […] contó su sueño […] rogándoles […] que Héctor aquel día a la batalla sallir en ninguna manera consientan […] Héctor todo en ira encendido, munchas injurias e reprehensiones a su muger dixo […] armado sallió […] Andrómaca […] a sus pies se lançó e con multiplicados solloços […] le suplicó que dexase las armas. E como Héctor sus ruegos negase, Andrómaca […] dezía: “Si de mí deniegas aver merced, solamente d’este pequeño fijo tuyo ave merced” […] Armado […] cavalgó […] e con acucia por sallir a la batalla presto. Mas Andrómaca […] como loca, al rey Príamo con las vestiduras despedaçadas e las maxillas regadas e los cabellos esparzidos fuera de su ligadura, gritando llegó. E así avía con sus uñas despedaçado su faz, de cada parte sangre corriendo, que apenas por sus amigos podía ser conoscida. E derribándose […] antes los pies del rey le amonestava, e […] rogava, que apriesta fuese e al palacio a Héctor fiziese tornar […] el cual, contra su voluntad tornando a su palacio, non procurando de se desnudar las armas que tenía vestidas’ (Chinchilla 1998: 275–76). bhs, 96 (2019) The Anti-Homeric Tradition in La Araucana meaning. The dream not only foreshadows Lautaro’s demise – it also appears to represent the overall Spanish suppression of the Araucanian ‘rebellion’ that takes place in Part One as the fortunes of war are gradually reversed. From Lautaro’s perspective, the indistinct and enigmatic ‘soberbio español’ seems to stand for Spain as a nation, and the native leader’s heart, utterly committed to his wife and to his homeland, may symbolize Arauco itself. Like the violent hand that squeezes Lautaro’s heart during the nightmare, the Spaniards enclose, constrict, and dominate Arauco by the end of Canto 15, leaving all the natives in the fort of Mataquito Valley for dead. The twofold vision thus constitutes a double prophecy: it anticipates Lautaro’s imminent death, and it foretells the forthcoming Araucanian defeat. The poet’s experimentation with prophecy and nocturnal visions in this episode anticipates even more radical departures from historical reality in Part Two, especially in Bellona’s visit to Ercilla in a dream in Canto 17 that enables him to observe the Battle of Saint-Quentin, and the poet’s visits to Fitón’s cave. Furthermore, the portrayal of Guacolda will inspire the creation of the other invented Araucanian women in the rest of the poem. Guacolda becomes the prototype for Tegualda, Glaura, and Lauca who appear in Part Two and Part Three. In both the Homeric and the anti-Homeric traditions, Hector and Andromache are archetypes for conjugal love during wartime, and Lautaro and Guacolda likewise express their profound love and concern for one another. Like Hector, Lautaro belongs to the losing side, and he commands his people in the fight for their home and country. Like the Greeks, the Spaniards are foreign invaders, and both Hector and Lautaro are in charge of leading their men to defend their families and their territories. The deeper meaning behind the interlude describing conjugal love and the sacrifices of a husband and a wife in both the story of Troy and La Araucana is to remind the reader of the stakes of the war, as well as who is invader and who is native defender. Fitón’s cave Ercilla’s experience in Fitón’s cave in Canto 23 constitutes the most extreme case of literary imitation in the three volumes that comprise La Araucana. The scene preceding the sorcerer’s prophetic representation of Lepanto in Canto 24 is one of the most significant departures from historiography up to this point in the poem – a turn from history to unadulterated fiction and poetic imagination. The structure of Cantos 23–24 depends on a series of interlocked, highly imitative episodes: the fulfilment of Reason’s prophecy anticipating the encounter with Fitón, Guaticolo’s list of the mage’s powers, the inventory of Fitón’s deadly substances, the depiction of the subterranean dwelling containing a cavernous antechamber and a palace-like room with a crystal globe, the sorcerer’s conjuring of underworld beings and his impatient threats when they fail to follow his instructions at first, and the prophetic vision of Lepanto that the protagonist witnesses in the large transparent sphere. In this momentary flight 81 82 Bryce W. Maxey bhs, 96 (2019) from history, Ercilla creates a collage of passages eclectically borrowed from the works of certain precursors and contemporaries. In designing the architecture of Fitón’s dwelling, he relies on descriptions of the palace where Hector recovers from an arrow wound that appears in the Historia troyana polimétrica (see Larrea Velasco 2012: 216).24 Fitón’s cave contains two rooms: a dimly lit vaulted space where the sorcerer stores his deadly substances and a magnificent chamber – a kind of underground palace showcasing a collection of paintings and sculptures and the large crystal globe. In creating the second room, Ercilla seems to draw from a palace described in the Historia troyana polimétrica (2012: chs 103–108), a locus of luxury and unbridled fantasy. Ercilla portrays this ‘cámara hermosa’ in the following manner: ‘su fábrica estraña y ornamento / era de tal labor y tan costosa / que no sé lengua que contarlo pueda, / ni habrá imaginación a que no exceda’ (2011: 2.23.65.3–8). The floor is paved with transparent, shimmering stones, and the high ceiling resembles the sky, sparkling with gems that reflect an eternal light that glows even underground and at night.25 The depiction of the chamber where Hector recovers from an anonymous arrow wound in the Historia troyana polimétrica is an episode that the anonymous translator of the Roman de Troie added and that can be found in no other source. The narrator explains that Hector, ‘llagado de una saeta que nunca cuidaron que ende escapase […] en todos los otros quinze días non pudo levantarse nin salir a la batalla’ (Larrea Velasco 2012: 213). We recall that Ercilla earlier casts Lautaro as Hector and chooses to have him die from a stray arrow wound, a further connection of Ercilla’s fiction in Cantos 13–14 to the Historia troyana polimétrica. To cure Hector, Priam hires the doctor Bros of Pulla, a sage similar to Ercilla’s Fitón: ‘éste era el más sabidor maestro de llagas e mejor físico que en toda la villa avíe. Este mandó a don Héctor meter en el más preçiado palaçio de toda Troya, e allí le fendió él la ferida por muy gran maestría, e sanolo de todas las otras feridas’ (2012: 215). Like the wise doctor, the Araucanian magus has power over nature and a profound knowledge of art and science.26 The chamber where Bros cures Hector shines with gold, alabaster, and precious gemstones. As in Fitón’s magnificent chamber, even during the night the beautiful room glows: ‘luzía la cámara con ellas […] así que poca mengua tenía y la luz en la noche muy escura’ (216). Like Fitón’s dwelling, the chamber contains ‘bóvedas engastonadas en oro’, paintings, and other marvels. Though there is no large crystal globe in the Trojan palace, lifelike images emanate from mirrors in its four corners: ‘salíen del canto del palaçio por muy gran encantamiento muchas bestias de muchas guisas, las unas a semejanças de leones, las otras 24 25 26 Other possible sources for the design of Fitón’s cave include Merlin’s tomb in Orlando furioso (1516–1532) (see Ariosto 1983: 3) and Felicia’s palace in Jorge de Montemayor’s La Diana (1559) (see Montemayor 1996: 4). ‘que toda la gran cámara alegraba / la varia luz que dellas revocaba’ (Ercilla y Zúñiga 2011: 2.23.66.7–8). ‘Mas su saber y su poder es tanto / sobre las piedras, plantas y animales, / que alcanza por su ciencia y arte cuanto / pueden todas las cosas naturales’ (2.23.41.1–4). bhs, 96 (2019) The Anti-Homeric Tradition in La Araucana semejavan toros, las otras grifos, e lidiavan las unas con las otras en la tabla de oro que estava çerca de somo del pilar’ (217). The narrator continues by providing a lengthy list of men, animals, and mythological monsters that spring from the first mirror. Following the first list, he enumerates the images that emanate from the second, third, and fourth mirror. The entire catalogue continues until the end of chapter 107, occupying three full chapters. The author attributes the power of the four looking glasses not to magic but to art: ‘todo aquello era fecho por muy gran arte y por muy gran sotileza, mostrar las naturas e los fechos de las cosas’ (218). Ercilla similarly describes the crystal sphere as a work of art that took Fitón 40 years of careful study to assemble.27 Fitón’s globe, through which Ercilla first views the battle of Lepanto, is similar in function to the series of looking glasses that generate images in the Historia troyana polimétrica. Conclusions Manuscripts of Dares’s and Dictys’s chronicles were copied extensively throughout the Middle Ages. They circulated widely in print form during Ercilla’s lifetime. They were still held in high esteem in Spain during the sixteenth century, considered the authoritative accounts of the Trojan War. In the prologue to Part One, Ercilla explains that he intends for his poem to be a history of recent warfare in Arauco written in verse. He found inspiration in Dares and Dictys, who root their accounts in historiography, reject the supernatural intervention of the gods so characteristic of the Homeric tradition, and similarly claim to have participated as eyewitnesses in the events that they narrate. Though Ercilla could have had access to texts from both the Homeric and anti-Homeric traditions, there is ample evidence in La Araucana that he chose to imitate the unorthodox tradition inaugurated by Dares and Dictys. Ercilla seems to have been particularly familiar with the dream sequence of Hector and Andromache in Dares, the preface to Dictys’s chronicle – which seems to have inspired the prologue to Part One – as well as the palace scene in the Historia troyana polimétrica in which Hector recovers from a stray arrow wound.28 Whether or not Ercilla takes sides in the war between Spaniards and Araucanians has created a great deal of critical debate since the poem’s publication, and the Spanish poet addresses the issue in the prologue to Part One.29 At times he writes from the perspective of the Spaniards, while on other occasions he describes the war from the point of view of the natives. Through his reading of Dares and Dictys, who offer rival accounts of the Trojan war – the first pro-Trojan, the second pro-Greek – Ercilla may have found a source of inspiration for the 27 28 29 One of the other sources for Fitón’s crystal sphere is Os Lusíadas (Camões 1973: 10). Both seem to derive from Claudian’s poem In sphaeram Archimedis. Whether this means that a strictly ‘unorthodox’ tradition can be found in La Araucana is perhaps a more open question. Some may prefer to see the Homeric and anti-Homeric traditions as more of a continuum than an opposition. See, for example, Melczer 1973; Pierce 1984; Quint 1993; and Moore 2003, among many others. 83 84 Bryce W. Maxey bhs, 96 (2019) creation of alternating perspectives of warfare throughout the poem’s three volumes. The tension between contradictory points of view is a self-conscious strategy of the poem that, to this day, continues to render it resistant to critical reduction. Works cited Alegría, Fernando, 1954. La poesía chilena: orígenes y desarrollo del siglo XVI al XIX (Berkeley: University of California Press). Alfonso X, 2001–2009. General Estoria [c. 1270]. Tomo 1, parte 3. Ed. Pedro Sánchez-Prieto Borja (Madrid: Fundación José Antonio de Castro). Ariosto, Ludovico, 1983 [1516–1532]. 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