introductionintroduction presenting fra francesc and his works fra francesc moner was born in late...

Introduction

Presenting Fra Francesc and His Works

Fra Francesc Moner was born in late 1462 or early 1463 in the city of Perpig-nan, capital of Roussillon, the Pyrenean region of Northern Catalonia.1 In all probability he received the baptismal name of Pere, the same as his father’s. He happened to live during the crucial period shortly before and not long after the marriage of Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castile in 1469—a signal event thanks to which Spain eventually asserted itself as the fi rst full-fl edged state in the history of modern Europe. Th ese momentous circumstances aff ect-ed Moner profoundly. A Catalan by birth and upbringing, he became vitally involved in the relatively rapid process by which Castilian, as the medium of offi cialdom and prestige, gained dominance over Catalan, his native language. From a tender age Moner taught himself to ride the cultural wave of the po-litical diglossia he inherited at birth. He recognized the necessity of mastering both languages; so, he learned to use them both as fi nely tuned instruments of his creativity. For him, then, bilingualism was a far cry from a mere academic exercise. It was, indeed, a way of life.

Moner’s multifarious career is that of a gifted writer who became engaged

CocozzellaPeter.indd Sec1:1CocozzellaPeter.indd Sec1:1 12/31/09 8:21:21 PM12/31/09 8:21:21 PM

2 Fra Francesc Moner’s Bilingual Poetics of Love and Reason

in a variety of services at the royal court, in the palaces of the aristocracy, and in the armed forces both on land and at sea until he decided to take the mo-nastic vows. At a very young age he served as a page at the court of John II of Aragon, father of the aforementioned Ferdinand. While still a teenager, Moner spent some two years in France in the entourage of an unidentifi ed nobleman of that country. In his early twenties, Moner, who had enlisted in the military around 1481, participated in the war against Granada. In 1485 or thereabouts, he entered a period of intense literary activity as he took up residence in Bar-celona in the household of his maecenas, Joan Ramon Folch IV, Duke of Car-dona.2 Moner’s career fl ourished despite a rather problematic relationship with a woman, who proved to be the obsession of his life. Th e crisis, psychological and otherwise, precipitated by this unfortunate aff air, led the author to join the religious community of the Observancia, the most rigorous branch of the Franciscan order. Th e period Moner spent in the monastery fi rst in Lleida and later in Barcelona lasted no more than one year—the last of his life. As for the detail of Moner’s untimely death at the age of twenty-nine, it is useful to quote directly from the invaluable account provided by a Miguel Barutell de Barutell, who identifi es himself as the author’s “primo hermano que fue mío” (‘a cousin of mine’). Here is Barutell’s pertinent statement:

Murió [Moner] en esta casa de Barçelona de la misma orden, a do vino por serle más

natural, y paresce que no sin misterio, porque al cabo del año o poco más, el día mismo

que le hizieron professo. . . . (231)3

(‘Moner died in the house that belonged to the same [Franciscan] order in Barcelona.

He moved to this monastery because there he felt more at home. His death was not

without some mystery because it occurred on the very day that he became professed, a

year or a little longer after he took up residence. . . . ’)

An aura of suspicion envelops the bare-bone facts. Evidently Moner’s death occurred the very day he took his fi nal vows. One may ponder the ominous implications of that most laconic of remarks: “y paresce que no sin misterio.” Did Moner commit suicide?

While there is no signifi cant new evidence to necessitate a revision of the already published biographical sketch on Moner, a compelling case to revisit the author stems from the insights adduced by the latest scholarship on the multifarious facets of Spanish culture of the waning Middle Ages and early Renaissance. It would be remiss for a student of Moner’s background and lit-erary activities to turn a blind eye to the abundant seasonal harvest of studies, which, in the last decade or two, has fi lled such collections of essays as Poetry at

Court in Trastamaran Spain (ed. E. Michael Gerli and Julian Weiss) and His-


Introduction 3

torias y fi cciones (ed. R. Beltrán et al.) or have appeared as seminal monographs: Vicente Beltrán Pepió’s La canción de amor en el otoño de la edad media, Pe-dro M. Cátedra’s Amor y pedagogía en la edad media, Patricia E. Grieve’s Desire

and Death in the Spanish Sentimental Romance (1440–1550), Marina Scordilis Brownlee’s Th e Severed Word: Ovid’s “Heroides” and the “Novela Sentimental,” Julian Weiss’s Th e Poet’s Art: Literary History in Castile c. 1400–60, to name a few notable examples.

Current research teaches us not to underestimate the pronouncements, scarce and often much too laconic as they prove to be, by the trendsetters of the Spanish letters of the quattrocento–the likes of Juan Alfonso de Baena, Alfonso de Cartagena, Alfonso Fernández de Madrigal (El Tostado), Iñigo López de Mendoza (Marqués de Santillana), Enrique de Villena. Th e person-age to whom it behoves us to pay special attention at this point is, to be sure, far less renowned and infl uential than these stellar fi gures. He is Miguel Barutell de Barutell, Moner’s cousin, who in 1528 brought forth the editio princeps of Moner’s works. To Barutell we are indebted not only for his ground-breaking services but also for his prologue, eminently useful as an exordium for our own discussion.4

An Early Editor’s Declared Purpose and Intentions

Barutell’s envisages himself in the twin role of critic and biographer. He ap-proaches the latter aspect of his task with remarkable clarity of purpose. Spe-cifi cally, in his dedicatory address to Ferran Folch, Duke of Cardona, son of the aforementioned Joan Ramon Folk, Barutell leaves no doubt as to the intention behind the commissioning of the editio princeps:

De hombre que assí bivió y murió no me ha parecido, muy illustre señor, que su fama

se callasse, y assí, como arriba dixe, é querido publicar sus obras y agora endressallas

a Vuestra Señoría porque con esto lo que él hizo y lo que yo hago quede faborecido y

honrado, de manera que todo hesté seguro. (231)

(‘Most illustrious Lord, the fame of a man that lived and died as he did, should not, it

seems to me, remain in silence. Th us, as I have stated above, I have decided to publish

his works and dedicate them to Your Lordship so that, by my action, what he did and

what I do may be well-favored and honored. Th is way my endeavor will not fail.’)

Barutell fashions his testimonial in the manner of a eulogy. He holds up the fi gure of his admired cousin to the highest standards of fama, gloria, honra.



Th ese key terms—code words, we may call them—are eff ectively reiterated so as to impress upon our minds the lofty aspirations and crowning achieve-ments of a noble and virtuous life. Barutell, then, takes care to point out that, for Moner’s select community of knights and lovers, nobility, if not virtue, is a matter of lineage just as it is of deeds. Th us, in one of his various mentions of Moner’s honra, the admiring cousin adds: “No solamente la tuvo porque la ganó, mas haun porque se la dexaron sus passados” (‘he attained honor not only because he earned it but also because his forebears bequeathed it to him’) (230).

All in all, this encomium may be read as an eff ort to show the portrait of the author to best advantage in the perspective of the ideals fl ourishing afresh at the dawn of a new age. Barutell, after all, is writing in the same epoch in which Garcilaso de la Vega, that inimitable incarnation of the post-troubadour, Italianate cortesano, professes his dedication to both pluma (‘pen’) and espada

(‘sword’). Barutell may well suggest, as he does, indeed, without hesitation, that if Moner’s prose and poetry are “tan buenos testigos de su fama” (‘such good testimonials of his fame’) (230), so is his prowess, demonstrated in many a fi eld of battle: “provada su persona assí en hechos de esfuerço como en otras obras de virtud y de honra” (‘having proved his mettle in feats of valor and in other virtuous and honorable deeds’) (231).

For the sake of comparison we may adduce some statements of Juan Al-fonso de Baena, who anticipates Barutell by some seventy-fi ve years in extol-ling the boost that the literary arts can contribute to the cause of fame and glory. In his much-discussed “Prologus Baenensis” the famed editor asks, rhe-torically, a pointed question:

Ca sy por las escripturas no fuesse ¿qual sabydurya o qual engeño o memorya de om-

nes se podrye membrar de todas las cossas passadas? (9)

(‘If it weren’t for written documents, what wisdom, what ingeniousness, what sort of

remembrance of men could be preserved from all the things that are now past?’)

Th ere is no doubt that Barutell recognizes in his cousin those same manifes-tations of what Weiss calls “courtly and practical wisdom” (51), prescribed by Baena for the exemplary poet: “que aya cursado cortes de reyes e con grandes señores, e que aya visto e platicado muchos fechos del mundo” (‘he is required to have had experience at the courts of kings and noblemen and to have been engaged in many worldly aff airs’) (Baena 15). In this respect, Baena’s remarks fi nd a ready-made illustration in Barutell’s references to Moner’s residence in courts and palaces and to the author’s aforementioned military exploits. As will


Introduction 5

soon become evident, the comparison between Baena’s and Barutell’s declara-tions can be instructive in more ways than one.

For the time being it is well for us to concentrate on the concise paragraph, which encapsulates Barutell’s commentary strictly on matters of esthetics:

Sus [Moner’s] obras, ahunque en algunas cosas traten materias livianas, son tratadas

con tal gentil ingenio, con tan próspera invención, con tan graves sentencias, con tan

derecho juizio, y en fi n, con tan buen estilo, que la liviendad cessa, y todas estas otras

cosas quedan. Quanto más, que no ha sido poca difi cultad lo liviano tratallo grave-

mente sin pesadumbre. Dígolo de lo que menos él ha escrito, que de lo más que él

compuso, y quiçá todo, si bien se considera, se podrá muy bien ver que al cabo se re-

duze en cosas graves y de donde se puede sacar mucho provecho, si en manos del que

lyere no se pierde. (232)

(‘As for his [Moner’s] works, even though they may deal with some issues in a light

vein, they are written with such refi ned skill, with such felicitous invention, with such

sententious declarations, with such rightful judgment, and, in short, with such good

style that the light vein vanishes and all the other qualities remain. Th is is all the more

evident since it is no easy task to deal with light matters in a manner that is serious

without being ponderous. I say this in reference to the smallest portion of Moner’s

writings. As for most of his works, if not, when properly considered, all of them, one

will see very clearly that, in the fi nal analysis, they focus squarely on serious subjects,

from which great benefi ts may be derived, unless those that read the works let those

benefi ts slip through their fi ngers.’)

Particularly striking in Barutell’s passage is the similarity with Baena’s code terminology—“artes sotiles” (‘subtle arts’), “sotil engeño” (‘subtle wit’), for ex-ample—apparent in the conclusion of Baena’s “Prologus.” Besides, it is not hard to realize that Barutell privileges the same “intellectual qualities,” as Weiss calls them (51), mentioned in Baena’s defi nition of the outstanding poet: “muy altas e sotiles invenciones, e . . . muy elevada e pura discreción, e . . . muy sano e derecho juyzio” (‘a lofty and subtle inventiveness . . , a high level of pure dis-cretion . . , a wholesome and rightful judgment’) (Baena 14–15). We are left wondering whether Barutell’s mention of “derecho juizio,” which seems to be a direct quotation from Baena, holds in store a special signifi cance.

A Substantial Difference

Despite these signs of a substantial coincidence between Baena and Barutell, a major diff erence fl ares up between the two apropos of the type of behavior the poet is expected to manifest toward love. As usual, Weiss illustrates Baena’s position by a direct quote:



Que sea [the poet] amador, e que siempre se preçie e se fi nja de ser enamorado; porque

es opynion de muchos sabyos, que todo omne que sea enamorado, conuiene a saber,

que ame a quien deue e como deue e donde deue, afi rman e disen qu’el tal de todas

buenas dotrinas es doctado. (Baena 15; quoted in Weiss 51)

(‘Th e poet must be a lover. He must take pride in pretending to be in love. Many wise

men are of the opinion that any man that is in love—that is to say, one that loves the

woman he should love, in the manner and in the place he should love her—that man,

they say, is endowed with sound doctrine of every kind.’)

Th ese words resound in diametrical opposition to Barutell’s account:

En este tiempo amó [Moner] a una señora de su tierra, con tanta verdad, que basta

para descargo de las liviendades que suelen traher los amores. (231)

(‘At this time he [Moner] met a lady from his native land and loved her so truly—

certainly more than enough to excuse the frivolities that often accompany the aff airs

of love. ’)

It does not take a prolongued reading to make us aware of one insight that the Catalan editor asserts with strength of conviction: the conduct of feigning (fi ngir) is anathema in Moner’s vision of the love relationship; the behavior concomitant with “se fi nja de ser enamorado” is, as Barutell implies, abhorrent to Moner. Th e message that Barutell strives to convey is that for Moner love is a matter of truth—not of fi ction, of substance—not of style, of being and not of seeming. Not surprisingly, Barutell intuits an unmistakable link between the sincerity of the love that Moner professes toward the “señora de su tierra” and the fervor—“el hervor de su devoción” (‘the fervor of his devotion’) (231)—that marked his religious conversion, that is, his decision to join the Franciscan or-der at the age of twenty-eight or thereabouts.

Reliability of Barutell

In the manner in which Barutell’s comments conform with the salient, easily recognizable strands of Moner’s textuality we may begin to discover an index of reliability for Barutell’s entire discourse. We observe, for instance, that in his portrayal of Moner as a lover in both a natural and a supernatural sense—“nada menos que todo un amante” (‘nothing less than a lover through and through’), we are tempted to exclaim, praphrasing Miguel de Unamuno’s catchy expres-sion (“nada menos que todo un hombre”)—Barutell posits a formula of asser-tion and rejection (verdad without liviendad): assertion of a praiseworthy trait (verdad or gravedad) and rejection of a deplorable fl aw (liviendad). With this


Introduction 7

Barutell opens up an intriguing perspective on Moner’s literary heritage and takes us back to none other than Ausiàs March, the great Valencian poet of the fi rst half of the fi fteenth century. In fact, Barutell evokes a precise locus: the fi rst two verses of March’s Cant XXIII, which belongs to an early phase of the bard’s prodigious career.5 In this memorable passage Ausiàs puts forth a principle of his esthetic in the epigrammatic fashion, so typical of his poetic diction: “Lleixant a part l’estil dels trobadors / qui, per escalf, trespassen veri-tat” (‘Discarding the style of the troubadours, who are so infl amed that they cannot speak without exaggeration’ [Robert Archer’s translation, p. 41]). Here March employs the essential positive/negative pattern that Barutell descries in Moner’s oeuvre. Th e parallelism is self-evident and, certainly, would be obvious to Barutell, who could fully appreciate March’s gravedad in extolling truth to the disparagement of what, in down-to-earth language, March identifi es as “escalf ” (‘excessive heat’). In March’s case, then, the formula becomes “veritat without escalf.”

Without digressing into a full-scale semantic analysis, it bears pointing out that March, according to the consensus among critics and literary historians, is chastising not all troubadours but only those who, carried away by the impetus of their attention-seeking, histrionic expression, transgress the boundaries of veracity. Arguably, March is laying the foundation for a diaphanous rhetoric, which obviates distraction from a direct contemplation of reality. Th e lesson, as we may assume Barutell would agree, would not be lost on Moner.

A Poet’s Derecho Juizio

Particularly rich in semiotic overtones, especially as textual determinant, is the factor that, as we have seen, Barutell calls “derecho juizio” and Baena identifi es with same terms and the added adjective “sano” (‘healthy’). “Sano e derecho juyzio” proves to be rather ambiguous in the context of the controversy, which, as refl ected in the Cancionero de Baena, raged at the beginning of the fi fteenth century between two camps: the theologians, such as Fray Diego de Valencia, who believed that poetry was an acquired skill and the professional poets—Alfonso Alvarez de Villasandino and Ferrán Sánchez de Calavera, among others—who maintained that their gaya ciencia was an innate talent.6 From Baena’s exposition it is not apparent which of the disputing groups can lay better, let alone exclusive claim, to “wholesome and righteous judgment,” if we may use the English translation. Not apparent, either, is how this superb quality squares with the supreme attribute of the real poet—that God-inspired virtue, which Baena himself calls, somewhat elusively, “graçia infusa del señor



Dios” (‘grace infused by God, our Lord’). In view of the shifting sands of Bae-na’s argumentation, we may well conclude with Julian Weiss that “[w]hether Baena’s ill-defi ned position is the result of uncertainty, evasiveness or just poor articulation is impossible to tell” (54).

In his usage Barutell keeps “derecho juizio” free of ambiguity, even though the term is diffi cult to pin down to a univocal signifi cation. Th is is mainly because “derecho juizio” acquires several connotations as it serves as signpost for the various stages of Moner’s multifarious text. In the long-range perspec-tive of that evolution, we witness the convergence of the epistemological and ethical dimensions of Moner’s ideology. On the one hand, juizio underscores the cognitive faculty of reason and the ratiocinating powers of the intellect; on the other hand, derecho has to do, etymologically, with straight direction and, thus, spells out the effi cacy of reason in leading the individual—specifi cally, the poet’s persona—toward the contemplation of the Divine Being, Whose prime epiphany in Moner’s thought is precisely Truth or, less frequently, the Supreme Good.

Here we begin to perceive how eff ectively Barutell points to Moner’s para-mount concerns: the relationship between reason and truth and the conditions that aff ect the poet’s lifelong quest for true love and for the fi nal beatitude. A summary review of Moner’s main compositions will suffi ce to bring to light the distinctive aspects of that relationship and of that all-important quest. In Bendir de dones (Oc 179–211), the longer of the two extant poems in Cata-lan, Reason (Rahó) and Truth (Veritat) perform leading roles among various other allegorical personages. In lecturing the maligned and malaise-ridden lover—the author’s persona—Reason appeals to order (“mon orde,” v. 266) and complete subservience to Truth: “de mi [Veritat] t’est ajudada / en tes coses ordenarles” (‘I have helped Truth in getting your things in order’) (vv. 264–65). Reason’s common sense is refl ected in her down-to-earth speech. Her stern warnings against women’s vices, which she is eager to expose (vv. 268–320), cannot but have an enduring impact upon the naive lover. Duly instructed, the latter is ready to meet Truth (vv. 341–45). In L’ànima d’Oliver (Oc 137–65) it is the eponymous protagonist who becomes a veritable surrogate of the char-acter that often in Moner’s production is represented as Lady Reason. Oliver formulates a systematic diagnosis of the lover’s ills, proposes a methodical plan for a cure, elaborates a cogent argument in favor of the love of God, and, for a bonus, adds his own criticism of the wiles of women. A more eff ective exposi-tion of the ways of logic can hardly be devised. As a noteworthy example of what well-guided reason can accomplish, we may adduce Oliver’s climactic praise of the love of God:


Introduction 9

Aquest amor és segur, sens engan, que som certs que és Ell lo major bé, per qui totes

les coses són bones; y que no•l podem tant amar quant Ell nos ama. Assí és l’esperança

certa de posehir, sy hi treballam. Aquest bé vertader, ans de alcançar-lo nos delita,

perquè la virtut és tal; y, aprés, nos contenta de bastans dons de glòria, ahont ninguna

cosa fall. (Oc 152)

(‘Th is love is safe, free of deceit, and we can rest assured that God is our highest good.

Th rough Him all things are made good. We can never love Him as much as He loves

us. Likewise, the hope of coming to the possession of that good meets with certainty,

if we work at it. Before we attain this true good, it fi lls us with delight because that is

the nature of virtue. After we attain it, it satisfi es us with abundant gifts of happiness,

a state in which nothing is lacking.’)

In both Bendir and L’ànima we have, then, a straightforward illustration of derecho juizio. Th e two works demonstrate that the aim and the eff ect of reason-dominated rhetoric consist, respectively, in persuading the lover to amend his ways and in restoring to him the benefi ts of serenity, peace of mind, consolation. Poignantly, the author’s artistic alter ego, the fi rst-person narrator of Bendir, describes how Rahó, in an attitude of profound reverence, directs an all-important request to Veritat:

Llavòs Rahó, ab gran festa,

se acostà a la Veritat,

inclinada molt sa testa,

en so de fer-li requesta

perquè fos aconsolat. (Vv. 341–45; Oc 198)

(‘Th en Reason with great rejoicing drew close to Truth. She bowed her head very low

as she was about to beseech Truth to bring me some consolation.’)

Th e term “aconsolat” referred to the persona of the author himself, not only ex-presses solicitude for the lover’s mental, psychological, and spiritual condition but also evokes the De consolatione philosophiae, which gives the derecho juizio exemplifi ed in Rahó’s and Oliver’s discourse an appreciable Boethian tenor.

A Mutation of Derecho Juizio

Not so transparently intellectual, on the other hand, is derecho juizio in other key works in Moner’s production. Th ere are two allegorical compositions, namely, La noche and Sepoltura d’amor, which bear looking into in this context. For the moment let us leave aside Sepoltura and turn our attention to La noche. In this major piece written in Castilian, the longest extant work by Moner, the char-



acter of the lover, impersonating the author himself, is engaged in a spiritual journey from psychological turmoil to the contemplation of God, represented as Truth (Verdad) in keeping with the high rank occupied by that divine at-tribute in Moner’s hierarchy of values. One can hardly miss the disheartening denouement of the journey. Reason is quite capable of leading the pilgrim to the foot of the highest tower of the allegorical castle—the keep, where Divine Truth resides—but can go no further because of her avowed inadequacies:

Esta torre es muy segura. Aquí podrás ver mucha gente si te abren la puerta. Aquí ten-

go yo muchos amigos y más la Verdad a quien sirven todos. Pero hay una portera, Fe,

cuyo gesto resplandece tanto que me ciega la vista. Assí que si entrar quieres, havrásme

de perdonar porque ende yo no sabría guiarte. (Ll. 1672–78; TMPW 200)

(‘Th is tower is very secure. Here you will see many people, provided that they open the

door for you. Here I have many friends, including Truth, whom they all serve. Th ere

is, I must add, Faith, the doorkeeper, whose face is so bright that my eyes are blinded.

Well, if you want to go in, you will have to excuse me. Once inside, I would not know

how to guide you.’)

Th e moral to be inferred from the story should come as no surprise in the framework of Christian doctrine, in which La noche is, doubtless, conceived: reason by itself cannot eff ect salvation. What is surprising is Moner’s explora-tion of an esthetic realm stretching beyond the domain of reason in search of a principle that may ultimately compensate for reason’s inadequacies. In La noche, derecho juizio has acquired a new semantic slant: the crisis of reason suggests the need for a new orientation. Th e juizio must turn aside from the ways of reason and deal as directly as possible with the operation of the lover’s experience.

Th e evidence available to us warrants the deduction that this signal shift of orientation in Moner’s career occurred as a direct result of his acquaintance with Pedro de Cartagena, one of the most gifted cancionero poets—a personal-ity, therefore, rightfully deserving of the renown that has been accorded to him. In all probability Moner came in contact with Cartagena during the period which Moner spent in the military between 1481 and 1485, some fi ve years before Cartagena’s death. Both authors coincided in the armed forces at the service of Ferdinand the Catholic (1 Introducción 12–13). It appears that Cart-agena inspired Moner’s most powerful and dramatic statements on the crisis of reason as refl ected in two poems: one, “Coplas hechas a ruego de Cartagena” (Cocozzella, 1 OC 240–43), relatively short, and the other, Obra en metro (2 OC 75–100), of major proportions.

Th e impact of Cartagena’s infl uence on Moner’s poetic diction is nothing


Introduction 11

less than radical. As Gerli points out, Cartagena reveals the divorce between language and reality, artistic expression and experience (“Reading Cartagena: Blindness, Insight and Modernity in a Cancionero Poet”). We may add that in much a similar vein, Moner grapples with the disturbing phenomenology of the lover’s malady. Th e “Coplas hechas a ruegos de Cartagena” gives a glimpse into the low ebb in the lover’s spirit. Th e author’s persona enters what may be called the dark night of the soul. In this context it is appropriate to quote but a few verses, which reveal a state of mind verging on despair:

No sé quyén invoco, ni sé qué demando:

hazedo le veo estar mi apetito

y, en fi n, la razón, perdido su mando.

Todo mi ser es llama quemando

cyega visión, trabajo infi nito. (Vv. 56–60; 1 OC 242)

(‘I do not know whom to invoke nor do I know what to ask for: in my appetite, I fi nd

bitter taste, and reason, at last, has lost its control. My whole being is a burning fl ame,

a blind vision, an endless toil.’)

In Obra en metro Moner adapts the manner of Cartagena to the exploration of one of the greatest paradoxes, which determines the plight of human be-ings: the coexistence of a human being’s free will with God’s omniscience as manifested particularly in the activity of Fortune. In the face of the dilemma, Moner cannot help feeling relegated to a state of helplessness if not downright depression, precipitated by a disconcerting insight: the intellect and its facul-ties (reason among them) is inadequate in answering life’s most vexing ques-tions by penetrating the heart of mystery. One stanza (no. XXX) deserves to be quoted in full because it explains reason’s frustration and failure in terms of loss of consejo—or juizio, we may observe—and the absence of choice (electión):

¿Qué me fatigo sin consolación

a quyen no aprovecha contar amarguras?

Do no está consejo ni ay electión

presumir de ajudarse con la razón

es querer hazer con seso locuras.

Ell amor que es entero por fuerça causado

ny guarda ley ny le vale consejo.

Assí que, syendo yo d’esto forçado,

invocar la razón es tan escusado

como al ojo quebrado mostrarle l’espejo. (Vv. 291–300; 2 OC 86.)

(‘Why do I exhaust myself without consolation for the sake of one to whom I take

my bitter sorrows to no avail? For a person with neither discernment nor freedom of



choice, to presume to get help from reason is to insist on turning sanity into madness.

Love caused entirely by powerful impulse observes no law and does not profi t from

advice. Well, then, coerced as I am, for me to invoke the help of reason is tantamount

to holding up a mirror to a wounded eye.’)

Harking back to the aforementioned controversy ventilated in the Prologus

Baenensis, Moner may well reply that neither the intellect nor the gracia infusa (no matter how inspired or capable the poet) can penetrate the mystery or solve the paradox (free will / God’s prescience) that faces the lover.

Let us go back now to the identifi cation of the salient phases of Moner’s text. We may say that, in La noche, derecho juizio strains under the tension of the confl ict between reason and the emotions. Th us, we witness a momentous shift from the Boethian mode of comforting ratiocination to a phenomenology of love, in which the presence of reason is or would be in itself problematic. By its very nature reason is deeply involved in the turmoil of emotions and the solution lies in transcending that chaotic state of mind and psyche, of body and soul. To put it diff erently, the solution resides outside the realm of reason. What remains to be observed is that in La noche we perceive the lingering ef-fects of an introspective thrust, an analytic dynamic, which may be traced as far back as the Psychomachia, the masterwork by the early Christian writer, Prudentius.

We realize, all along, that the tension that dominates La noche is symptom-atic of a state of anxiety, which still leaves the lover in the existential cul-de-sac, so vividly dramatized in the aforementioned two poems composed in the manner of Cartagena. One way out of the lover’s plight is foreshadowed at the beginning of La noche in the motto recited by Costumbre (Lady Custom). Th is fi gure, an embodiment of pernicious passion unbridled by the reins of reason, declares herself in diametrical opposition to “el sol de la doctrina,” an Augus-tinian concept, which certainly will require some commentary later on in the pages of this introductory study. Th e motto reads as follows:

Quando el sol de la doctrina

falta en los grandes y grey,

y soy tenida por ley. (Ll. 137–39; TMPW 90)

(‘When the sun of doctrine

does not shine on rulers and the common folk,

I am considered law.’)

Let us bear in mind this memorable passage, in which the allusion to illumina-tion derived from Christian doctrine comes to us as a reminder of a possible powerful support and supplement for derecho juizio.


Introduction 13

Supplanting Derecho Juizio

It is fair to say that, as we take up even a summary study of Sepoltura d’amor, we are struck by Moner’s radical, ultimate denouement of his distinctive treatment of existential anguish. Simply put, we envisage the signs of an esthetic, which, borrowing a key phrase Moner uses in the exordium of the complex Sepoltura, we may label “letras matizadas del sentido” (‘words nuanced with sense and sentiment’). A perusal of Sepoltura will convince us that Moner has reached the quintessence of “artes sotiles,” “sotil engeño,” and “gentil ingenio,” to quote directly from Baena’s and Barutell’s comments. Th is high degree of sotileza (‘subtlety’) can no longer be ascribed conveniently to the tried-and-true crite-rion of “derecho juizio.” Rather, the criterion is supplanted by these intriguing “letras,” which beg for thouthtful refl ection. Th e level of ingenio we by now are accustomed to appreciate in Moner’s newly devised artistry—a conceptismo of sorts avant la lettre—resides in two notions: matiz and sentido. Th e fi rst is the natural quality of sotil ingenio; the second, more importantly, captures an inher-ent ambiguity, which points not only to basic intellectual signifi cation (“mean-ing” in the ordinary acceptation of the term) but also to emotional charge or impact. Th e use of sentido in Moner’s time would encompass the English equivalents of both ‘sense’ and ‘sentiment.’ In his letras Moner has found a way of harnessing, through poetic expression, both intellective and emotive forces. In the process he has recovered the right kind of escalf, which, in its appropriate measure and judicious blend with the ratiocinating mechanism of rhetoric, will further his poetic ends.

Th e esthetic of ambiguity works out stupendously in Sepoltur for it enables Moner to dispense with reason altogether in order to concentrate, instead, on experience. By the ingenious portrayal of Experiencia,7 the epitome of the author-lover’s life story allegorized in this personage becomes confl ated with the quintessence of the Gospel: the ultimate epiphany of the Word Incarnate. Th e process brings to mind the technique of superposición, which Carlos Bou-soño discusses apropos of modern poetry (1: 388–431). Moner intuits a sym-bionic link between the human and divine texts—a synergy which turns out to be eminently rich in metaphysical overtones. Th e “letras matizadas” radiate a semantic iridescence, which is itself a distinctive characteristic of the poetic symbol.

In Sepoltura Moner traces a path of regeneration, even resurrection, which remains impervious to the method of logic and reason. It is the path of salva-tion through conversion. As we would expect, Moner presents conversion in the profound Christian sense of rebirth by grace. Nothing unusual about that.



What is unusual, however, about Moner’s treatment is the elaboration of cen-tral conceit: the lover’s life is the text and, as such, it relates as a synecdoche to a universal context authored by God Himself. Th e conversion occurs when the life-text of the individual lover (in this case, Moner’s persona) is assimilated into the gospel-text of the Divine Lover. Th is is, needless to say, a mysterious process, which cannot be fully apprehended by any human faculty but can only be perceived in glimpses by intuition or, perhaps, by gracia infusa.

Sepoltura, in the fi nal analysis, is a monument to the sacralization of the human text. It illustrates the canonization of the lover though a ceremony, pat-terned upon the ritual of the mass. It is a misa de amor, which Moner transforms into a paradoxical composition because, even though it reads as a parody of re-ligion, it adumbrates, at a deep level, a return to the domain of orthodoxy. By the intuitive medium of his poetry, Moner recaptures the effi cacy of the Divine Logos. Th e role of Experiencia is paramount in Sepoltura because, among the three celebrants (incidentally, all female priests) she is privileged with the task of delivering the all-important sermon. Her discourse is emblematic of two happenings: fi rst, the sublimation, by catharsis, of the misogynist vehemence; second, the aforementioned conversion illustrated by the exemplary suff ering of the lover: Moner’s persona, that is, as the mártir de amor. Th us, Moner’s life-text is allegorized in Experiencia and the allegory, in turn, harbingers the canonization of the experiencia of the mártir de amor par excellence.

In short, Sepoltura, yet another of Moner’s verbal icons, in which Truth is exalted as an attribute of the Supreme Being, shows how the lover-pilgrim reaches the goal of his existence and is, de facto, rewarded with the sublime communion with Verdad.

Two Ancient Textual Strands

Th is preliminary discussion has led us to focus our attention on the various traits—verdad, gravedad (absence of liviendad), derecho juizio, ingenio, among others—which Barutell identifi es in Moner’s production. By looking back at the special bond between derecho juizio and verdad, we have been able to catch a glimpse of two general trends, which, as we have seen, emanate, respectively, from Boethius’s De consolatione and from Prudentius’s Psychomachia. As I have shown elsewhere (Introducció 83–84), some passages in Bendir de dones show unmistakable affi nity with De consolatione. For a striking example we may cite Moner’s description of Reason, found in stanza XXIV:

Sobrevingué la Rahó,

tan clara com un estel.


Introduction 15

De stranya proporció,

tant era major que yo,

que lo cap tocava •l cel;

però, com ella •s volia,

feye’s del gran que só yo;

menor, com bé le venia;

mas, comsevulle, paria

tenir tostemps perfectió. (Vv. 231–40; Oc 192–93)

(‘Reason intervened shining as bright as a star. Her stature was very strange: so much

bigger was she than I that her head touched the sky. Th en, according to her whims,

she changed into a person of my size. She got smaller as she saw fi t, but, whatever her

height, her proportions looked perfect.’)

Th e following passage borrowed from Antoni Genebreda’s translation of Boethius’s masterpiece (see Book I.i) shows the remarkable similarity that Moner’s passage bears with Boethius’s presentation of Philosophy:

La estatura del seu cors era molt duptosa; algunes vegades era axí minva com les altres

persones, e a vegades era tan alta que del cap tochava al cel, e si volia levar lo cap,

trespassava lo cel. (17)8

(‘Her body was of a variable stature: at times she was not any bigger than any other

person; at other times she was so tall that her head touched the sky and, whenever she

was inclined to raise her head, she would rise beyond the sky.’)

One sign of a probable infl uence from Prudentius has to do with the light-dark imagery as it appears at the beginning of La noche. Th e protagonist, the author’s persona, having just entered a strange castle, fi nds himself in the courtyard, in the center of which he sees a huge fi re (“un fuego de muy grandes llamas” (‘a fi re of very large fl ames’) [ll. 111–13; TMPW 85–86]). As he makes ready to enter into the dark staircase through a narrow door, he picks up a burning stick (tizón) of resinous wood (tea):

Lleguéme más al fuego y vi qu’era de tea. Tomé un tizón entre muchos y con su lumbre

fuy por todo el patio hasta tanto que llegué en una portesuela cerrada. (Ll. 120–23;

TMPW 85–86)

(‘I drew closer to the fi re and noticed that it came from resinous wood. I picked up one

of the many burning sticks and, guided by its light, walked across the courtyard until

I came to a little door, which was locked.’)

Moner’s makeshift torch is reminiscent of the ungainly “piceam ardenti sulpure pinum” (‘a torch of pinewood blazing murkily with pitch’),9 which, ac-



cording to the description found in Psychomachia, vv. 40–45, Sodomita Libido (‘Lust the Sodomite’) brandishes as a weapon in her skirmish with virgo Pu-dicitia (maiden Chastity). It would not be farfetched to observe that Moner re-captures both the letter and the spirit of Prudentius’s notion of a sinister light, associated with unhealthy, passionate love and contrasted with the lampade

Christi (‘the torch of Christ’ [v. 57]), which alone inspires “famulos famulasve Dei” (‘God’s man-servants or his maid-servants’) and kindles “the inmost fi bre of their pure heart” (“quibus intima casti / vena animi sola fervet de lampade Christi” [vv. 56–57]). It bears pointing out that Moner remains faithful to the implications of Prudentius’s allegory in at least another signifi cant detail of the lurid light. As the protagonist explains somewhat later in his dramatic ac-count, the glow emanating from the torch allows him to see himself refl ected in the breastplate of Amor, the most important among the personages that dwell along the castle’s stairway (see ll. 185–88; TMPW 99). We realize that, by the portrait of Amor in the “courtly” manner, Moner provides his own ver-sion of the aforementioned Sodomita Libido. Also, by the haunting glimpse of the protagonist’s refl ection as part of Amor’s accouterments, Moner eff ectively suggests the protagonist’s unhealthy association with a redoubtable agent of evil.

Indices of a Multifarious Textuality

To pursue at this point a search for specifi c sources may turn out to be more distracting than enlightening. It is useful, we fi nd, to widen the horizon of our study for the time being. We will think in terms of broad categories and take into account such factors as overall structural design, prevailing tenor of discourse, thrust or direction of certain key arguments or the overall thinking process as exhibited in a particular composition. In eff ect, we are attempting to profi le, in a general outline, the main aspects of Moner’s multifarious textual-ity.

We may start with a hypothesis and a plan for a concomitant study of veri-fi cation. Th e hypothesis consists in identifying four main aspects of Moner’s text, which I propose to list as follows: 1) ratiocination, 2) introspection, 3) conversion, 4) dramatic-theatrical projection. In the study I envisage I would not only analyze salient discrete features but also strive to encompass the over-arching design, which gives Moner’s style a very special syncretic dynamism and organic cohesiveness.

A few preliminary defi nitions are in order, which will help us delineate, if only provisionally, the course of our exploration. In the discussion of ratiocina-


Introduction 17

tion, for instance, we would take up the epistemological and ethical functions of the intellective powers in relation to truth. As we shall see, in Moner’s fi eld of concentration a few of those functions clearly stand out—namely: to vindi-cate/console, persuade, syncretize, abstract, and ultimately transcend the way toward knowledge and, in the best of circumstances, toward wisdom. In the analysis of introspection, the second item on our list, the paramount task is to investigate the crisis of reason in an eff ort to assess the impact of that crisis on the author’s literary creativity. We would expect such an investigation to result in charting an inner space of the psyche and in discovering the fountainheads of an expressionistic rhetoric befi tting the dynamic of strife and confl ict within the self.

Conversion, the third aspect mentioned above, refers to Moner’s venture into an existential domain in which reason has lost its sway. Th at venture, in all likelihood, starts out with Moner’s experimention with the imaginary world especially as evoked in the unusual poem entitled Cobles de les tisores (‘Th e Scissors’) (Oc 167–78), where a wondrous metamorphosis takes place within a courtly setting. Moner’s ladylove and a number of courtiers—the poet him-self included—vying for the lady’s attention, fi nd themselves transformed into birds: a motley fl ock roaming in the sky in the entourage of a beautiful dove. Having gotten a taste of an esthetic, which transcends the method of reason, Moner comes upon a novel, para-rational approach to human experience. Th e lover-poet, we realize, is dealing not simply with contemplation of sorrow—intense though that contemplation may be—but with a wholehearted involve-ment in painful living, a deep self-conscious immersion into the vivencia—to use the Hispanic term—particularly as manifested in the lover’s plight. In the fi nal analysis, Moner’s text of conversion illustrates a cluster of interrelated, si-multaneous phenomena: the poet’s profound identifi cation with the anguished lover; the lover’s self-fulfi llment as an exemplary suff erer or mártir de amor; the transubstantiation of human passion.10 Th e last phenomenon, which shines forth in the conjoining of the human and the divine, may well turn out to be one of the most ingenious versions of the imitatio Christi. In short, the text of conversion fi nds its appropriate epiphany in the sacralization of the life-text, which has been discussed, albeit summarily, in the preceding pages.

Still to be considered is what I have listed as the “dramatic/theatrical pro-jection” of Moner’s text. To this aspect I myself have dedicated in the past a number of essays (“Fray Francisco Moner’s Auto de Amores,” “Fray Francisco Moner’s Dramatic Text,” “El Comendador Escrivá’s Legacy,” “Th e Th eatrics of the Auto de amores in the Tragicomedia called Celestina”), in which I tried to show that Moner’s La noche is an eminent specimen of a rare type of court theater, virtually forgotten by literary historians and critics. In my judgment,



La noche may be considered the best extant example of that genre, which some distinguished hispanists have called the auto de amores (Lázaro Carreter, Sir-era). It is worthwhile, I believe, to study La noche afresh in order to appreciate Moner’s mise-en-scène as an adaptation of the enormous wooden structures, commonly known as castillos or rocas, which, according to the data adduced by Peter Cocozzella (“Roques and Pageantry: Artifi ci as a Function of Joanot Martorell’s Dramatic Text”), Francesc Massip, Ferrer Valls, and others, were widely used during Moner’s lifetime for staging the allegorical representations included in civil and religious celebrations. Well in accord with Moner’s stage-craft is the deployment of the dramatis personae of La noche, who catch our eye with their colorful costumes and sustain our interest with their assertive, even provocative demeanor. And, all the while, the protagonist, that is, the au-thor’s alter ego, who vividly depicts those costumes and calls attention to that demeanor, takes on a memorable meta-theatrical role as a catalyst of the play’s action: he may be seen as a meneur de jeu (trujamán in Castilian, torsimany in Catalan), an apt medieval designation for what in our own times we would call stage director.

One of the most innovative aspects of La noche in particular and of Moner’s theatrical mode in general is the creation of a type of dialogue which stays clear of erudite mannerisms even as it captures the colloquial tone which sounds natural in the market place. Doubtless, one of the high points of Moner’s achievements in esthetics is the creation in La noche of an ordinary medium of discourse, emblematic of workaday speech, which, on the one hand, is set in contrast with the disquisition of Reason and, on the other hand, is made fi t for the conversation with the various allegorical personages, Reason excepted. What remains to be said is that Moner’s crowning achievement consists in a rhetoric driven not by the strategy of persuasion but by the compulsion toward forceful expression and sincere, complete confession: expression to the point of a cry of anguish and despair, confession to the verge of exhaustion. Th us, while the goal of Reason in La noche and Oliver in L’ànima d’Oliver is to persuade, that is, win over the consensus of the interlocutor, the overriding motive of the protagonist’s reaching out toward the other characters in La noche is the por-trayal of a lover in such a way that his condition must strike us immediately as nothing less than tragic.

Pending further discussion of this tragic dimension, it pays to cast, once again, a quick glance at Barutell’s remarks and underscore Moner’s prevailing gravedad. It may well be that, for the sake of gravedad, Moner cannot aff ord to indulge in the type of zesty, even zany colloquialisms with which Alonso Martínez de Toledo spices up those unforgettable passages of his Corbacho. Re-minded by Barutell that Moner’s is an art sin liviendad, we are ready to advance


Introduction 19

the hypothesis that Moner’s artistic expression par excellence stems from an insight into what Unamuno would call the sentimiento trágico de la vida.

After observing the particular characteristics of Moner’s text, we are ready for an overview of his production as a whole. Th is synchronic view, which opens up an entire panorama, reveals some global traits, which transcend the individual compositions. What is singularly striking among all these traits is a fundamental paradox, which may be seen as the trademark of Moner’s creativ-ity. We are dealing, then, with an esthetic principle of paramount signifi cance, which hinges, it bears repeating, on a paradox and informs, if we may use a musical analogy, not only Moner’s sense of global orchestration but also the individual main motifs that we have come to identify with his esthetic enter-prise. By orchestration I take to mean how, in Moner’s vision of the cosmos, the particular and the universal are metaphysically interwoven as inseparable, complementary entities. Moner’s intuition enhances our comprehension of the existential bond between one and the other entity: one and the other are not, as they appear to be, diametrically opposed and, therefore, mutually exclusive; they are, rather, integral dimensions of the same reality. Hence the paradox.

We may say, for instance, that Moner’s focus is essentially egocentric; yet, even as we make that assertion, we can hardly deny that his perspective is radically catholic in the etymological sense of the term. To take one concrete example: the action of La noche unfolds within the consciousness of the “I”—the protagonist’s awareness of the self; but, at the same time, that consciousness epitomizes the ubiquitous Everyman who resides within each human being. From a psychological point of view, La noche dramatizes the confl ict between the self-consciousness of the protagonist and the passions rampant within him. In that confl ict, we fi nd, as I hope to demonstrate in due time, the most tell-ing sign of a deep-seated paradox: the protagonist’s self-consciousness attests, all in one, to the integrating power of reason and the disintegrating forces of the emotions. Th is is the same as to say that the lover’s life hangs in abeyance between order and chaos, well-being and malaise.

What is important to bear in mind is that Moner’s sense of composition or structure evolves through a technique, which I propose to call “syncretic lyricism,” inherited, I believe, straight from Ausiàs March. Apropos of this im-portant aspect of Ausiàs March’s esthetic I will quote here a defi nition, which I formulated on another occasion on the basis of some seminal ideas by Pere Bohigas:

According to Bohigas, Ausiàs strives now and again for an overall organic unity to be

embodied in a grand design, which he must convey not, as one would expect, through

the well-planned structure of just one poem of major proportions but, rather, by means



of the fragmentarism germane to the aesthetic that informs a variety of lyrical pieces.

(“Trends of Syncretism in Castilian and Catalan Literatures of the Late Middle Ages”

102)

In Ausiàs March’s suggestive interplay between the microcosmic and the mac-rocosmic, it is not hard to foreshadow a similar dialectic in Moner’s intriguing version of “syncretic lyricism.” In fact, Moner’s egocentric concerns fi nd, by their very nature, their appropriate expression in a fragmentary fashion wheth-er in the short lyrics (the canciones and the like) and kindred prose works (the cartes, and the glosas en prosa) or even in the long poems and prose works. But we must look beyond the splintered exposition. Th e point not to be missed is that, in Moner as in Ausiàs March, the fragmentary treatment of multifarious themes grows into a comprehensive vision.

We are beginning to see, then, how Moner’s ingenio, in emulation of Ausiàs March, yields a compendium on the theory of love, which emcompasses both negative and positive qualities and integrates, by way of epitome, the legacies of disparate literary traditions. Th is should help us understand how Moner’s ultimate vision combines morbid passion and refi ning desire; how it eventu-ally capitalizes upon these two main notions of eros derived from the fi n amors of the troubadours; lastly, how that vision articulates them in unison with a Christian mind-set: an ethical position that would consider concupiscence the root of all evil, not to mention the fervent religious outlook that Barutell un-derscores, according to which eros itself can be the primary impulse toward the mystical union and the beatifi c vision. Moreover, we will bear the principle of syncretic lyricism in mind in order to gain an insight, eventually, into Moner’s shift in orientation from doctrine to experience, from transcendental ideal to concrete circumstance, with respect to Moner’s approach to the multifarious epiphanies of truth and the protean function of the misogynist invective.

Th e paradoxical eff ect becomes manifest, also, in the recurrent motifs I have alluded to above. Th e presentation of the prototypical woman is a case in point and so is the topic which we may identify with the label of la casa

de amor. As for the portrayal of the primordial woman, Moner strives for the conjoining of two contrary extremes as when in La noche he off sets the in-carnation of good and evil, virtues and vices in two damsels: Vergüenza and Costumbre, respectively. Th e overall result is a woman best to be described, in Federico García Lorca’s phrase, as lúbrica y pura (‘lubricious and pure’),11 forever ambiguous in both her libidinous and spiritual appeal. A similar type of paradoxical ambiguity characterizes Moner’s presentation of the aforemen-tioned casa de amor. Th e author ends up superimposing two types of images as in a cinematic fade-out of sorts: on the one hand, he shows us the dwelling of


Introduction 21

gloom and doom, evocative of the ambiance of the numerous infi ernos de amor; on the other, hand, he allows us to contemplate, especially in Sepoltura d’amor, the Christian temple, fi t for the glorifi cation of the kind of love which reigns in Paradise (2 OC 32–34).

A Problematic Chronology

A general review of Moner’s literary output suff ers from a glaring drawback:

the lack of specifi c and reliable data for an essential chronology. Although in-

valuable in many respects, Barutell’s biographical sketch yields no detail as to

the dating of Moner’s compositions or the order in which they were written.

Th e broad textual categories I have just enumerated with a summary explana-

tion are, of course, no substitute for a straightforward chronological approach.

By rule of thumb we may surmise a criterion of priority based on relative com-

plexity of structure or composition and proceed from the comparatively simple

pieces to those that, along the list I provide of the aforementioned categories,

exhibit, progressively, an increasing degree of elaboration. Needless to say, this

criterion by which we may suggest, say, that the clean-cut L’ànima d’Oliver

antedates the multifaceted La noche, can hardly be adduced as sole support of

an incontrovertible argument.

In view, then, of this dearth of fi rm data, it is prudent to desist from further

speculation on the chronology of Moner’s output. Th ere is, all the same, one

fact that we can bank on: as I have pointed out above, from an epigraph of the

poem that Moner wrote at the request of Pedro de Cartagena, we deduce that

the two poets became acquainted during the middle period of Moner’s career.

We have already broached the discussion on the eff ects of the contacts with

Cartagena upon Moner’s “Coplas hechas a ruegos de Cartagena” and Obra en

metro. We may add now that these poems stand out as chief specimens of the

text of introspection, one of the major aspects we have identifi ed in Moner’s

writings. Let us ponder, then, these considerations in terms of the bearings

they may provide toward determing at least an approximate dating for some of

Moner’s distinctive compositions—the exponents of the introspection—and

for a signal stage of his coming of age as a writer.

Balance and Prejudice

It should be abundantly clear by now that Barutell does not nor should be ex-pected to abide by the same criteria, chronological or otherwise, that would be



considered de rigueur for an editor of our time. Also, it should be obvious that

an investigation of Barutell’s editorial criteria would be eminently revealing as

to the political forces that came to bear upon the socio-cultural milieu, which,

in turn, conditioned the editio princeps of Moner’s production. Barutell, no

doubt, was deeply aff ected by the sociolinguistic developments that character-

ized the aristocracy and the high bourgeoisie in the entire Catalan domain at

the turn of the fi fteenth century. In their cogent analysis of the sociolinguistic

situation in Valencia during this period, Manuel Sanchis Guarner and Antoni

Ferrando Francés fi nd that the increasing involvement of the upper classes in

the expansionist agenda of the Catholic Monarchs and the repression and/or

extermination of the vibrant Jewish community brought about with surprising

rapidity the abandonment of the mother tongue as the cultural language of the

Catalan-speaking citizenry (Sanchis Guarner 6, Ferrando Francés 69).

For an illustration of this demotion of Catalan both Sanchis Guarner

and Ferrando Francés cite the testimonial of the outstanding Valencian poet,

Narcís Vinyoles, who within 1504 and 1507 deemed fi t to put in print some

extraordinary declarations extolling the Castilian language as “latina, sonante

y elegantísima” (‘Latin, of a pleasant sound, and most elegant’) while casting

aspersions on Catalan, relegated “entre muchas bárbaras y salvages [lenguas]

de aquesta nuestra España” (‘among many barbaric, savage languages of this

Spanish country of ours’) (qtd. in Ferrando Francés 70). In this context it bears

observing that, although he may not share to the same extent Vinyoles’s fervor

for the Castilian cause, Barutell could not but feel, just as strongly in Barcelona

as did Vinyoles in Valencia, the impact of those various factors that brought

about among the most infl uential circles of society what to Ferrando Francés

appears as “la primera manifestació d’autoodi lingüístic en la història del català”

(‘the fi rst manifestation of linguistic self-hatred in the history of the Catalan

language’) (70).

To give credit where credit is due we must make it clear that neither Viny-

oles nor Barutell is to be taken as an unconditional apologist for the cause

of Ferdinand and Isabella. Leaving aside any further comments on Vinyoles’s

unquestionable achievements—comments best left to the expertise of scholars

like Sanchis Guarner and Ferrando Francés—we should not fail to point out

that Barutell, for his part, did strive to strike a compromise between, on the

one hand, political expediency and pragmatism—Be ever mindful to render

in full whatever is due unto the Caesar in power!—and, on the other hand, a

sense of fair-mindedness that allowed him to recognize the intrinsic merit of a

writer’s—his cousin’s—works no matter what language they be written in.

We need not belabor the extent to which Barutell is being swayed by prej-


Introduction 23

udice and how deferential he is to the ascending prestige of Castilian over

Catalan. Evidence of this, if proof is needed, may be found in the very layout

of the volume he edited, which preserves most of Moner’s extant works. In this

highly attractive book the Castilian compositions occupy a prominent posi-

tion: they are presented as a group (see fols. A3-F1v) ahead of their Catalan

mates (fols. F2v-G4v) and are accompanied by catchy ornaments and full-folio

illustrations. Th ere is no indication, however, that Barutell, at heart, regards the

Catalan pieces inferior in any way. He takes every care to showcase them as ap-

propriate counterparts for their Castilian correlatives. So, for one major work

in prose, two long poems, two minor prose works in the language of prestige,

he makes sure that comparable types appear in exactly the same quantity and

in the same order in the author’s native parla. Th e symmetrical arrangement

falters in two of the three glosses in prose because, as it appears, Barutell con-

siders them hard to classify. Th e one I call Glosa en prosa II (“Cancyón glosada

del mismo autor por escusa de una injuria endressada a la condesa de Quyrra”

[‘glossed canción by the same author, written to redress an off ense and dedi-

cated to the Countess of Quirra’]) is included among the poems (see fols. E6-

E7) because it starts with a section in verse (the canción “¿Quién me quiere

reprender . . . ?” [‘Who is about to reproach me . . . ?’]). Th e other, a Catalan

piece, which I have entitled Retrets a l ’amada (see Oc 113–19) (“Endressa a la

contessa de Quirra para la glosa de la cancyón ‘Mis esfuerços se mantienen del

mismo auctor’” [‘Dedicated to the Countess of Quirra as a gloss to the canción,

My eff orts are sustained, by the same author’]), is included between the Castilian

and the Catalan works (see fols. F1v-F2) probably because Barutell considers it

hybrid: an admixture of verses in Castilian and prose in Catalan.12 Th e glaring

imbalance in Barutell’s collection is due to a factor clearly beyond the editor’s

control. Simply put, there are no Calatan equivalents for the bulk of relatively

short lyrical pieces—mostly canciones and glosas de mote—which constitute

Moner’s cancionero proper. Oddly enough but not without sound judgment,

Barutell attempts to restore the equilibrium, somewhat, by adducing Moner’s

personal letters addressed to his beloved dama. It is not hard to see how these

cartes, despite all dissimilarities, may well constitute a compelling match for the

aforementioned cancionero love lyrics.

Th e following table illustrates at a glance Barutell’s arrangement, symmet-

rical despite the lopsided total of Castilian compositions compared with the

total of the ones in Catalan included in his collection.13



It is useful, also, to look at the following table, which indicates the subtotals of the compositions in terms of type (prose or verse) and language (Catalan or Castilian).

Totals

by type and language: 2 poems in Catalan, 54 in Castilian; 14 prose a. works in Catalan, 4 in Castilianby language: 16 pieces in Catalan, 58 in Castilianb. by type: 56 poems, 18 prose worksc.

We come, then, to a grand total of seventy-four pieces.

Let us summarize: the works in Castilian are presented in Barutell’s book

before the ones in Catalan. In both groups the prose works come before the

poems and, in each division, the longer pieces appear before the short ones. As

I have just explained, the aforementioned two glosses and the love letters pres-

ent a signifi cant deviation from this layout. It may be argued that Barutell saw

the cartes as the counterpart of the Castilian lyrical pieces (the canciones being

the manifestation par excellence of these). In eff ect, Barutell saw the cartes as

lyrical pieces. From various indications, his implicit classifi cation comes out to

be accurate.

Castilian CatalanMajor prose works Major prose works

La noche (A3-B5) L’ànima d’Oliver (F2v-F5v)

Minor prose works Minor prose works

–Tractado sobre la paciencia (B5v-B6) –Retrets a l ’amada (F1v-F2)

–Glosa en prosa I (B6-B7) –Resposta a Jaume de Ribes (F5v-F6v)

–Glosa en prosa II (E6-B7) –Comiat (F6v-F7)

Major poems Major poems

–Obra en metro (B7v-C7) –Bendir de dones (F7-G2)

–Sepoltura d’amor (C7v-D7v) –Cobles de les tisores (G2-G3)

Minor poems (B7v-F1v) Minor prose works Cartes (G3-G4v)


Introduction 25

Toward a Specific Plan of Study

One of the truly memorable characteristics of Barutell’s contribution as editor is his ability, in the face of personal and societal prejudices, to develop, sustain, and preserve the insight of a clairvoyant into the heart of Moner’s esthetic of bilingualism. Barutell is aware that Moner’s bilingualism is, if nothing else, a matter of equilibrium. According to Barutell’s insights, then, the combination of this equilibrium with Moner’s multifarious text evolves as a general postu-late, from which we are likely to derive various corollaries. Th ese need to be taken up individually and with some attention. Th ey deserve a close study.

Th e questions that we will ask henceforth are focussed, naturally, on the distinctiveness of Moner’s text not only in refl ecting the bilingual balance but also in articulating the various ingredients that account for that text’s high complexity. In dealing with the issue of distinctiveness we will strive to go beyond the general defi nition of broad categories and aim at specifi c examples, whether these consist of complete compositions or of fragments thereof.


introductionintroduction presenting fra francesc and his works fra francesc moner was born in late...

Documents