Headnote
The theatrical representation of Egilona, the last Visigoth queen, in 18th and 19th century Spanish drama serves as a lens for exploring the construction of female protagonism in the context of fashioning Spanish national identity. Portrayals of Egilona underwent significant transformation, reflecting broader societal changes and the rise of liberal ideologies, while revealing persistent patriarchal constraints. Plays by Trigueros, Valladares de Sotomayor, and Vargas y Ponce demonstrate Egilona's character evolution from a marginal historical figure to a symbol of Christian resilience and Spanish power. These dramatic works contributed to shaping collective memory and negotiating Spain's complex relationship with its Muslim past, illustrating the role of theater in national mythmaking and identity formation.
La representación teatral de Egilona, la última reina visigoda, en el drama español de los siglos XVIII y XIX sirve como lente para explorar la construcción del protagonismo femenino y la construcción de la identidad nacional en España. Las representaciones de Egilona experimentaron una transformación significativa, reflejando cambios sociales más amplios y el auge de las ideologías liberales, mientras revelaban restricciones patriarcales persistentes. Obras de Trigueros, Valladares de Sotomayor y Vargas y Ponce demuestran la evolución del personaje de Egilona de una figura histórica marginal a un símbolo de resistencia cristiana y poder español. Estas obras dramáticas contribuyeron a dar forma a la memoria colectiva y a negociar la compleja relación de España con su pasado musulmán, ilustrando el papel del teatro en la creación de mitos nacionales y la formación de identidad.
The theatrical representation of the last known Visigoth Queen, within the context of the "Reconquista narrative," serves as a crucial lens through which to examine the social construction of female protagonism in shaping Spanish collective memory and national identity. This article argues that the portrayal of women in Spanish historical drama, particularly in plays centered on the "loss and restoration of Spain," underwent a significant transformation, particularly in the late eighteenth to the mid-nineteenth centuries. This shiftmirrors broader societal changes, including the rise of liberal ideologies, while simultaneously revealing the persistent constraints of patriarchal structures and nationalist narratives.
A review of plays developing the theme of "loss and restoration of Spain" reveals a common tendency: many of them feature male characters as the central figures in the plot, largely ignoring or minimizing female roles and perspectives. Female characters in plays such as El último godo, by Lope de Vega, Hormesinda, by Fernández de Moratín, and Pelayo, by Jovellanos, were typically confined to roles controlled by men, often limited to being objects of desire or victims of male transgressions. Such portrayal reflected the rigid gender roles and power imbalances of the patriarchal society in which these plays were written, where women's legal rights, social status, and personal autonomy were severely restricted. Even in those theatrical pieces where female characters had more prominent roles, their functionality was generally subordinated to the power relations between male protagonists. This meant that the actions, decisions, and fates of female characters were often determined by the conflicts between male protagonists.
The nineteenth century witnessed a paradigm shiftin the theatrical representation of women, characterized by an expansion beyond traditional, circumscribed roles. The transformation could be interpreted as a reflection of broader societal changes, particularly the gradual ascendancy of liberal ideologies in Spanish society, which began to challenge the entrenched composition of the traditional power structure by emphasizing individual rights, equality, and social progress. As these ideas gained traction, playwrights began reconsidering and reconceptualizing women's roles both in society and on stage. A key figure in this progression was Manuel J. Quintana, dubbed by some scholars as the "patriarch of Spanish liberalism" (Dérozier 675), whose work was instrumental in propagating liberal thought in Spain. It is important to note, however, that the evolution in the portrayal of female protagonists, while significant, was not without limitations. For example, in his tragedy Pelayo, the representation of the tragic heroine Hormesinda stands as an illustrative example of the tension between progressive ideals and persistent constraints in Spanish cultural development. Though endowed with the capacity to exercise power and influence the course of the action, the heroine still operates within a constrained framework ultimately serving as an allegorical embodiment of national resistance and the preservation of Spain's cultural integrity and moral values. More importantly, her role in the plot serves to accentuate Don Pelayo's heroic image and glorious feats. The attribution of heroic qualities to the female protagonist in Quintana's tragedy did not imply a genuine exploration of women's heroism and autonomy.
The story of King Rodrigo's widow and her marriage to Emir Abdalasis, following the defeat of the Visigoths, provided a unique opportunity for a narrative centered on a woman protagonist. It allowed the Queen's character to take center stage without being overshadowed by a competing heroic figure, as neither Abdalasis nor King Rodrigo could be convincingly portrayed as heroes on the Spanish stage.
In examining the diverse historiographical and literary sources, the most striking feature is the remarkable inconsistency surrounding the queen's name and identity. The earliest written reference to her appears in the Crónica mozárabe de 754 (Anónimo 79), where she is named Egilón. However, in another chronicle she is referred to as Rucilona (Vargas y Ponce, Argumento). Pedro del Corral's Crónica sarracena presents the queen as Eliaca identifying her as the daughter of the king of Africa (702). Miguel de Luna, on the other hand, ascribes to her an Arab identity, naming her Zahra Abnalyaca (11). Interestingly, according to Ibn al-Qutīya's chronicle, there was a woman known as Zara or Sara during the final years of the Visigoth kingdom, but she was identified as a Visigoth princess and granddaughter of King Witiza (Barton 4; Ballesteros 115).
In Historia de España y su influencia en la historia universal, Rodrigo's widow is referred to by two names, Egilona and Umm Asim (Ballesteros 7). The information emerging from the chronicle and historiographic discourse regarding the queen's identity is further complicated by the suggestion that Egilona could have been King Rodrigo's sister rather than his widow (Gerli 3). In Miguel de Luna's text, Egilona is the name of Rodrigo's daughter (397).
Despite the varied and often contradictory accounts of the Visigoth Queen's identity, the diverse sources provided a rich foundation for multiple approaches to the theme in Spanish literature and historiography. They significantly contributed to the construction and solidification of Egilona's image in the national memory. In tracing the development of her character in subsequent works, we can observe how playwrights and writers adapted the story to their times. From a symbol of the "loss of Spain" in Lope de Vega's work to an embodiment of Christian resilience and virtue in later plays, Egilona's figure was continually reshaped to align with the dominant narratives of each era.
The national memory has preserved only those aspects of Egilona's story that pertain to her transition from Christian queen to Muslim emir's wife. Her significance, as constructed by hegemonic "Reconquista" discourse, was thus inextricably linked to her symbolic role in the context of political and cultural transformation of Spain, rather than to her position as an individual whose decisions made a difference in the historical development of the country. The neoclassical and romantic dramatists attempted to change that equation by focusing specifically on Egilona's ability to exercise power. The lack of reliable information about her life and experiences allowed for creative interpretations that served the ideological and artistic purposes. Although it may be impossible to uncover the historical truth of her life, we can explore the character's significance and functionality in the process of shaping cultural and identity processes in Spain.
Luce Irigaray's feminist perspective, for example, provides a valuable framework for understanding Egilona's traditional symbolic role in historical narratives. Irigaray posits that the female body has been commodified within a system of exchange that constituted women as objects, assigning them the function of mediating relationships between men (2009: 128, 134, 137). If we apply this idea to Egilona's case, then, her transfer from one warrior to another as a consequence of military conquest fulfills precisely that function. The Visigoth queen becomes a commodity -a token of victory which serves to symbolize the shifting power dynamics between the two powerful male figures. More specifically, her appropriation by the victorious Moors, along with Don Rodrigo's kingdom, comes to epitomize the definitive defeat of the Visigoths. As Ruth Karras explains, "for men of one group to have sex with women of another is an assertion of power over the entire group" (25). For that reason, the second marriage of Egilona to Emir Abdalasis, the Arab ruler of Al-Andalus, had a potential of becoming a topic of serious concern. From a political perspective, the marriage could be seen as a strategic alliance between the defeated Visigoths and the victorious Arabs, with Egilona serving as a bridge between the two cultures. At the same time, the marriage could also be perceived as a betrayal of the Visigoth cause because the King Rodrigo's crown could be considered as legitimate inheritance transferable to the new husband of the queen. A consummated marriage between Egilona and Abdalasis resulting in children would imply the legitimization of the Muslim conquest of the Visigoth kingdom.
The "Reconquista" narrative mounted an elaborate narrative strategy to subvert any possible claims to legitimacy on the part of the Umayyads. In some instances, it was done through denial of a consummated marriage, and in others, by changing Egilona's identity.
The rejection of Egilona's second marriage was not arbitrary, but rather grounded in the historical and religious context of the time. The XII Council of Toledo, held in the year 683, had explicitly condemned and prohibited the second marriages of widowed queens (Orlandis 125-26). This ruling provided a legal and moral basis for questioning the validity of Egilona's second marriage, allowing historians to challenge the legitimacy of the union without contradicting the established norms of the Catholic Church. The literary authors followed suit, although in the neoclassical and romantic theater of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the focus shifted from the legal dimensions of the marriage to the endogenetic aspects, emphasizing the cultural and racial implications of the union. The playwrights repeatedly rejected the possibility of consummation of the relationship between Egilona and her Arab husband, reflecting the desire to fashion the notion of the Spanish identity based exclusively on Visigoth, Asturian, and Castilian legacy. This representation was assigned the key function of denying the possibility that Spanish blood could have mixed with that of North-African conquerors, thereby reinforcing the hegemonic notion promoted by the Spanish Monarchy of a continued Visigoth- Castillian lineage. For that reason, the ideological stance of Spanish kingdom prescribed maintaining strict boundaries between different ethnoreligious groups residing in the kingdom in the Middle Ages.
The perception of intermarriages as a problem for Spanish national identity continued in force after the conquest of Granada and even after the expulsion of the Moriscos. There are documented references showing that the Spanish society resisted the attempt by "moriscos" to integrate into the society. In a judicial case from 1727, a nobleman named Don Andrés de Mendoza, the chief officer of the Seal of the Holy Crusade, filed a complaint before the Inquisition tribunal of Granada against Cecilio Enríquez de Lara for the fact of having concealed his supposed islamic origin when marrying his daughter (Soria Mesa 134). The reasons for possible concealment probably had to do with the historical memory. Following the conclusion of the "Reconquest" at the end of the fifteenth century the Catholic monarchs issued an edict expelling the Jews from Spain, and in the sixteenth century did the same with the Muslims. Finally, in the early seventeenth century, the same treatment was applied to the mixed group known as the Moriscos, the result of the mixture of Moors and Christians. Their expulsion was presented as the step in shaping the national identity and unity of the Peninsula (Andreu 243).
The rhetoric of denial reflects an identity concern with roots in the Late Middle Ages, when it began to be prohibited under heavy penalties that any Christian woman, married, single, mistress or public woman, enter either by day or night the enclosures of Jews or Moors (Rubio García 169). The prohibition of mixed relationships between Christian women and Jewish or Muslim men was not limited to personal interactions. In the mid-thirteenth century, the Courts of Valladolid (Cortes de Valladolid) even prohibited Christian families from employing Jewish and Muslim women to care for and nurse their children, and similarly prohibited Christian women from doing the same with the children of religious minorities (Mirrer 9).
However, despite the historical edicts, prohibitions and the rhetoric of denial in literary discourse, historical evidence suggests that mixed marriages between Moorish men and Christian women were a common phenomenon, particularly during the High Middle Ages (Fernández Amador 74; Imamuddin 38; Barton 2). Yet, some Spanish historians still attempted to manipulate the historical discourse to deny miscegenation. One example is Egilona's name, as she is referred to as Umma-Asim in the medieval Arab chronicles, which translates into Spanish as "the mother of Asim." According to Luis Alonso Tejada, Don Rodrigo's widow adopted the new Muslim name as soon as she gave a son to her new husband, which in the opinion of the scholar knocks down certain pious and well-intentioned theories about Egilona's Christian zeal and heroic chastity (154). Understandably, the notion of a Visigoth queen not only marrying a Muslim conqueror but also bearing his child posed a significant challenge for the hegemonic ideology that controlled the dominant narrative of Spanish history. It represented an admission that the boundaries between the Christian and Muslim worlds were more porous than the official discourse allowed for, and that the idea of a Spanish identity that excluded the miscegenation was more a myth than a reality. As a rebuttal to this interpretation, Modesto Lafuente, in his Historia general de España, stated that Egilona's new husband did not demand that she embrace Islam; instead, he allegedly allowed her to continue being a Christian, and gave her the Arabic name of Ommalisam, which supposedly meant "the one with the pretty necklaces" (Lafuente 136). Note that Lafuente creates a fictional image of the queen with an alternative name that sounds similar to that of Umm Asim, but with a different explanation. That manipulation allows to evade the reference to the historical probability of Egilona's motherhood.
This denial of miscegenation in historical discourse, was replicated in literature,2 and was part of a strategy that aimed to compensate for a historical reality that was most likely very different, according to Christiane Stallaert (92). It represented an attempt to compensate through fiction the subordinate status of Christians in Al-Andalus and the perception that "the dominance of a Muslim ruler over a Christian woman," regardless of her social status" was an "embodiment of Islamic political and military supremacy" (Barton 9).
The fictional ideation of the resistance that the Visigoth and other Christian women demonstrated after the Muslim conquest of Iberia meant to support the hegemonic ideology of the Spanish monarchy. Women characters were depicted as heroic in so far as they demonstrated their capacity to maintain the integrity and purity of their body by resisting physical relations with the Umayyad's warriors. The emphasis on female virtue was exemplified especially in the construction of the two key female characters associated with the Royal Visigoth lineage: Egilona and Hormesinda. Their portrayal as virtuous and pure despite their proximity to Moorish warriors seeking their love, served to affirm the pure lineage of Spanish monarchy and to compensate for the cultural memory of Florinda's fall.
All plays featuring Hormesinda predominantly portray unconsummated unions, emphasizing the Christian women's strength and unwavering defense of their honor. In Gaspar M. de Jovellanos' Pelayo, Dosinda staunchly rejects Munuza's advances, citing her modesty, virtue, and noble birth. Similarly, Fernández de Moratín's Hormesinda presents its protagonist as unjustly accused but vehemently defending her innocence, with her virtue further affirmed by Ferrández' willingness to prove it through trial by combat. Moratín leaves no doubt about Hormesinda's chastity, culminating in Munuza's confession of his failure to consummate their forced marriage due to her steadfast resistance. In Gertrudis Gómez de Avellaneda's tragedy Egilona, this perspective is echoed as the protagonist explicitly denies consummating her marriage to Abdalasis, asserting that Providence has preserved her honor. Egilona's assertion of fidelity to Rodrigo and resistance to Abdalasis instrumentalizes her as a symbol of Spain - conquered but not surrendered -within the "Reconquista" narrative.
The chastity and moral fortitude of noble female characters were inscribed within the patriarchal ideological context of the time and praised as symbolically representative of similar qualities of the Christian resistance to the conquering forces. The widespread influence of this ideology is evident in the references to the "unfailing purity" of the main female characters in the play The Conquest of Spain, by an English author, with a parallel drawn between the body of the female protagonist and the Spanish nation (Drayson 261). These representations underscore the high value placed on female virtue in Spanish drama of the period, portraying Christian women not as passive victims but as active agents committed to preserving their honor and faith. Their moral resilience, even in the face of adversity, functioned to reinforce the ideological stance against the Umayyads and Al-Andalus, while also symbolizing the broader national struggle against foreign occupation.
Some authors chose to deal differently with the sensitive issue of Egilona's marriage to Abdalasis, by attributing to her an Arab identity. Made popular by Miguel de Luna's fictional chronicle, this motif was picked up by Lope de Vega for his theatrical rendition of the theme of the "loss and recovery of Spain" (Menéndez Pidal 1926: 52).
It has been stated that the blame for the fall of Visigoth kingdom and by extension the notion of the "loss of Spain" was associated more with Florinda, the daughter of Count Julian and less with the male political actors (Grieve 24-25). In Lope de Vega's El último godo, King Rodrigo's character carries on his shoulders substantially more responsibility for the Muslim invasion. Lope de Vega choose to prioritize, among Rodrigo's several transgressions, the one that he commits by marrying Zara, the daughter of the Algerian King Benadulfe, without the latter's consent. This is a notion that is absent from the earliest medieval chronicles. The decision to focus on this offense is significant, as it shifts the blame for the fall of the Visigoth kingdom onto Rodrigo's personal actions and his disregard for the honor and authority of the Muslim king. By marrying Zara without her father's permission, Rodrigo not only insults Benadulfe as a ruler and a father but also offends him as a Muslim (NiehoffMcCrary 40), given the religious and cultural differences between the two kingdoms. The traditional focus on Florinda and Count Julian allowed some scholars to conclude that the offense and the revenge were born in Christian Spain without any Moorish intervention (Sánchez Jiménez 119), and that the destiny of Spain and Florinda were intermixed (NiehoffMcCrary 62; Ryjik 47). However, if we refocus the attention on Rodrigo's Arab wife, it becomes evident that Lope de Vega was particularly interested in making her the triggering element (NiehoffMcCrary 51). The Moorish king vows to seek revenge upon discovering that his daughter has converted to Christianity and married the Visigoth king. This threat extends beyond simply harming Rodrigo physically. Benadulfe vows to destroy the whole kingdom when he proclaims that he will see his enemy's crown, the symbol of the Visigoth state and monarchy, shattered and destroyed (Vega 349).
Princess Zara is portrayed as a schematic character, embodying the stereotypical traits of an exotic and alluring foreign beauty. She is depicted as a temptress, a forbidden fruit that entices the Visigoth king, Rodrigo, with her otherworldly charms, making him state that he was capable of trading his kingdom for her (Ryjik 54). Her representation can be seen as an early example of the Orientalist vision, as described by Edward Said (Ryjik 54). Said's concept of Orientalism refers to the Western practice of representing Middle Eastern, Asian, and North African societies as exotic, backward, and inferior, while simultaneously portraying them as objects of fascination and desire.
Zara's character lacks depth and serves primarily as a plot device, a catalyst for the conflict between Rodrigo and her father, Benadulfe, the Muslim king. A chance encounter between Zara and Rodrigo sets in motion a chain of events that ultimately leads to Rodrigo's downfall. The Visigoth king's decision to marry Zara without her father's consent sparks a fierce rivalry between the two men, with Zara becoming an object of contention, much like Helen of Troy in Greek mythology. The reduction of Zara's character to a mere object of desire is evident in her erotized depiction during the baptismal scene (Burningham 44; Kallendorf 275). Her value is further reduced as being a pawn in the power struggle between men highlighting the patriarchal nature of the societies represented in the play, in which women were stripped of their agency and reduced to symbols of male honor and prestige (Yarbro-Bejarano 8).
Just like Helen of Troy, Zara is portrayed as a prize to be won or lost (Vega 78) by powerful men. Just as Helen's abduction by Paris led to the Trojan War, Zara's appropriation by Rodrigo becomes the cause of conflict between the Visigoths and the Muslims. In this context, the story of Florinda, who also has been compared to Helen of Troy (Grieve 188; Ratcliffe 19), and that of Count Julian, which is often cited as a key factor in the fall of the Visigoth kingdom, take on a secondary role.
Lope de Vega's preference for an Arab identity for King Rodrigo's wife serves a dual purpose: it allows the Visigoth king to humiliate her Muslim father through appropriation of his daughter, while simultaneously circumventing the problematic narrative of the future widow's second marriage to the Umayyad Caliphate's representative. Lope de Vega offers a fictional solution by denying the Moors' access to a Christian queen's body (Ryjik 53). This artistic choice aligns with the Spanish hegemonic discourse that rejects the historically probable version of Egilona's submission and Islamization, depicting instead the submission and Christianization of a Muslim princess. It serves as a form of cultural compensation for the traumatic memory of Visigoth defeat and the appropriation of their queen by Arab conquerors. As Louise Mirrer suggests, Spanish authors offered in their writings a fantasized compensation to the historical reality through imaginary possession of Muslim women (4). Lope de Vega follows the chronicle by including a second marriage of Zara, who once widowed marries Abembúcar. Both end up executed for apostasy, having converted to Christianity, a motif that persist in the tale of Egilona and Abdalasis.
The portrayal of Don Rodrigo's during the eighteenth century is no longer confined to the role of a mere object. The queen, now named Egilona emerges as a leading figure with a distinct individuality. She navigates an ideological landscape that aspires, albeit not always successfully, to exalt patriotism and the ideals of virtue, truth, and the common good. This shiftin characterization stands in contrast to Lope de Vega's Golden Age tragicomedy, where the abundance of events and secondary plotlines overshadow Zara's character.
Enlightenment and Romantic era playwrights drew inspiration from historiographic and literary discourses of previous epochs, often alluding to a supposed veracity or historicity in their texts. This self-accreditation aimed to establish a pact of trust with their audience. However, their goal was not to resurrect historical reality; indeed, they were fully cognizant of their reliance on apocryphal and fictional sources (Polt 61). Rather, their objective was to shape and perpetuate a knowingly fictional yet justifiable vision, serving the utilitarian purpose of reinforcing patriotic sentiment and projecting a positive image of a united Spain.
This approach is particularly evident in their treatment of the legend of Egilona, Abdalasis, and Rodrigo. Playwrights demonstrated a keen interest in developing established plot lines, adapting them to the tastes and interests of contemporary audiences. By selectively incorporating new elements into established narratives, they crafted works that resonated with the prevailing ideological currents of their time. Claims of historical authenticity, even when working with admittedly fictional sources, served to legitimize creative choices and engage audiences in a shared sense of national heritage. Consequently, these plays contributed to the construction and reinforcement of a particular vision of Spain's past, emphasizing unity, patriotism, and the triumph of Spanish virtues over adversity -a process of myth-making that has had a lasting impact on the nation's collective memory and identity.
It is important to note that the predominance of literary imagination over historical accuracy in the portrayal of Queen Egilona should not be considered a demerit for the playwrights who developed her character. The configuration of Egilona as a dramatic figure was not historical in the sense that there was neither possibility nor intention to conduct research into the real experiences of a woman erased and reconstructed by hegemonic discourse. In fact, since her mention in the Crónica mozárabe de 754 and until the end of the eighteenth century, she had appeared only as an objectified figure, a mere token of exchange in the power dynamics of her time. This transformation of Egilona from a marginal historical footnote to a central dramatic character underscores the creative license exercised by playwrights in service of broader ideological and artistic goals.
The eighteenth-century plays place a greater emphasis on the individuality of the female protagonists, allowing for a more complex portrayal of their characters. This change is evident in Cándido María Trigueros' tragedy Egilona. Despite its limited distribution, few performances, and the absence of a known publication prior to 2005, Trigueros' work holds significant importance. It is the first neoclassical tragedy in the dramatic cycle that explores the theme of King Rodrigo's widow within the context of the "loss and recovery of Spain."3
In a letter that originally accompanied the manuscript and was later published as a prologue, Cándido María Trigueros explains his artistic purpose and alludes to the supposed historicity of the events depicted in his play. He asserts that he based the plot on historical events, specifically those regarding the circumstances surrounding the death of Abdalasis, the Muslim governor of Al-Andalus. According to the author, Abdalasis was killed for several reasons. These included his cruelty, his violence towards both Moorish and Christian women, his tyrannical behavior, and his attempt to rebel against Miramamolín, the Umayyad caliph. Trigueros also mentions that Ayub, Abdalasis' relative and successor, was accused by some of having played a role in his death. Furthermore, he states that it was commonly believed that the jealousy of Egilona, the Visigoth queen and widow of King Rodrigo, was a significant factor in the murder of Abdalasis.
By emphasizing the alleged historical basis of his drama, Trigueros seeks to lend credibility to his work and to situate it within the broader context of the "loss and recovery of Spain." The author's claim that his play is founded on "pure history" (Trigueros 51) serves to legitimize his artistic vision and to underscore the relevance of his work to the ongoing debates surrounding Spain's national identity and its relationship to its Muslim past. However, it is important to note that Trigueros' assertion of historical accuracy should be approached with caution. While the events he describes may have some basis in historical accounts, their accuracy is debatable. The extent to which his play reflects the complex realities of the period remains a subject of scholarly discussion. Like many writers of his time, Trigueros drew upon a range of sources, including chronicles, legends, and popular traditions, to crafthis narrative.
The tragedy's subject is developed from the limited data found in the Crónica mozárabe de 754. There it was suggested that Abdalasis was a libertine, whose actions offended his subjects and were the main cause of his death (Anónimo 79).
The dramatic trajectory and characterization of the two central characters, Emir Abdalasis and Queen Egilona, are primarily constructed around the portrayal of their intense and destructive passions. Abdalasis is depicted as consumed by lust, while Egilona is portrayed as driven by jealousy. The motif of the Moorish governor's aspirations for autonomy is relegated to a secondary position within the narrative. The Arab leader is cast in a decidedly negative light, with his character being imbued with traits such as treachery, cruelty, ignobility, and cowardice. Consumed by an allencompassing desire to gratify his base instincts, he demonstrates a flagrant disregard for the sanctity of religious spaces.
Interestingly, the queen's character is also portrayed in a negative light. At her core, she embodies the myth of the terrible woman, both Lilith and Eve. Like Lilith, the queen maintains an independence that verges on rebellion, and like Eve, she leads her husband to perdition through her actions and advice. In the first scene of the play, the protagonist herself admits that she fueled Abdalasis' cruelties and encouraged him to aspire to the crown, claiming that she taught him to view the treasons he plotted as glorious deeds (Trigueros 8).
This image of the protagonist is linked to the medieval cultural tradition, according to which the access to power of women freed from the authority of their husband leads to tragic consequences (Mirrer 2). Therefore, the dramatic function of Queen Egilona's character in Trigueros' tragedy does not represent an ideological stance in favor of women. Instead, it adheres to the two-faced pattern of stereotypical female imagery in literature. This pattern typically attributes women with one of two possibilities: either as a saint/martyr/victim or as a femme fatale/witch/temptress. If we compare the queen with the protagonist of Solaya o los circasianos, for example, by Colonel José de Cadalso, who finds herself in similar circumstances, we note an essential difference in terms of her character, motivation and behavior. Solaya embodies the woman oppressed by patriarchal power and victimized by the family code of honor. In contrast, Trigueros' Egilona wields significant power, with her actions mirroring traditionally masculine patterns of behavior.
The playwright, it appears, struggled to fully reconcile with his own plot and character development at a meta-authorial level. He failed to imbue any of his characters with truly heroic qualities. Notably, in the prologue, he explained that the decision to use the queen's name as the title was more a result of elimination than a recognition of her status as a tragic heroine (Trigueros 52). The uniformly negative characterization of all characters resulting in a tragedy bereftof a tragic hero may be subject to criticism as neither Egilona nor Emir Abdalasis, despite their central roles, can be convincingly considered as fulfilling this crucial dramatic function. However, if we consider that the focus on the emotional dimension of the conflict, allowed Trigueros to develop the neoclassical vision of the pernicious effects of human passions, we may not judge the play so harshly. Hispanists who examined the unpublished manuscript of Trigueros' play critiqued the play's shortcomings in its dramatic quality. They observed that the tragedy suffered from a hastily constructed intrigue and superficial character development. The characters' behavioral shifts were abrupt, rushed, and lacked credibility. Neither the plot progression nor the emir's climactic suicide achieved a genuinely tragic effect. Aguilar Piñal contended that the entire narrative was suffused with themes of hatred and vengeance, from which even Queen Egilona did not emerge unscathed (194).
Aguilar Piñal further argued that the portrayal of the female protagonist as an active agent diverged from the known historical accounts of these events. One could indeed posit that Trigueros' depiction strains credibility when considered against the cultural and social realities of the past. However, this critique becomes largely irrelevant when we recognize that assertions about the play's historical value, which some scholars accepted uncritically, likely constituted a common literary device employed by authors to lend credence to their narratives.
The more pertinent consideration is how Egilona's character functions within the ideological discourse that aligns with and potentially reinforces the social construction of Spanish national identity. In this context, the confrontation between the queen and her husband, as well as her ability to wield power in Abdalasis' court, assume considerable significance. This consideration shifts our focus from questions of historical accuracy to the role of literature in shaping national narratives and identities.
The Arab leader, as a representative of the Umayyad dynasty, serves as an embodiment of the historical memory of the Muslim conquest of Spain. Trigueros' emphasis on his weaknesses and lack of virtuous qualities can be interpreted as a deliberate attempt to discredit not only the individual leader but also the broader legacy of the conquest he symbolizes. This characterization functions as a literary device that implicitly challenges the legitimacy of Muslim rule in Spain.
From the tragedy's outset, Egilona emerges as a formidable figure, exercising power through her rhetorical prowess. Her language, replete with threats, commands, and disparaging remarks directed towards the Arabs, serves as a vehicle for her authority. The queen's ability to influence Abdalasis' actions, and his apparent trepidation in confronting her, underscores the extent of her authority within the narrative framework.
Trigueros presents a complex trajectory for Egilona's character development. Initially, she is portrayed as a damsel in distress, rescued by Abdalasis on the battlefield from twenty other Moors captivated by her beauty. However, within a remarkably compressed narrative timeframe, the queen undergoes a striking transformation. She rapidly asserts her dominance over her husband and exhibits a strong sense of autonomy, subverting traditional power dynamics and gender roles.
This portrayal of Egilona invites multiple interpretations. On one level, it can be seen as a reflection of Enlightenment-era debates about women's empowerment and influence. Simultaneously, it serves as a metaphor for Spanish resilience and dominance in the face of foreign rule. The swiftness of Egilona's ascent to power, while potentially stretching narrative credibility, effectively emphasizes the strength and adaptability associated with the Spanish national character that Trigueros appears to be constructing. Egilona transcends the conventional role of a subordinate figure, instead assuming a subject function with remarkable selfdetermination. She makes autonomous decisions and forges strategic alliances with various characters and factions of discontented Arabs, demonstrating political acumen and manipulative skill. Moreover, her intimations of an extant Visigoth military force supporting her cause serve to amplify her perceived power and influence within the narrative framework.
Trigueros' juxtaposition of Egilona's strength against the Arab leader's weaknesses functions as a potent literary device that subverts the established historical narrative of the Muslim conquest. This subversion is further reinforced by the negative portrayal of Abdalasis, described as "detestable" (Garelli 28), which aligns with the broader rhetoric of rejection towards the invading Moorish forces (Aguilar Piñal 194). The playwright's strategy extends beyond mere historical revisionism; it actively contributes to the construction of a nascent Spanish national identity that seeks to reclaim its perceived past glory and assert its independence from external influence.
This multifaceted depiction of Egilona as a formidable and influential figure operates on several levels: it challenges traditional gender roles and power dynamics of the period, while simultaneously undermining the authority of the Arab leader and, by extension, the Muslim conquest he represents. Trigueros' approach sheds light on the gender, power, and national identity dynamic in eighteenth-century Spanish drama and is part of a broader cultural movement that sought to redefine Spanish identity through a reinterpretation of historical events and figures. By empowering Egilona and diminishing the Arab leader, the playwright engages in a form of literary nation-building, where the stage becomes a site for negotiating and constructing national narratives.
Furthermore, this characterization raises intriguing questions about the role of women in national mythologies. Egilona's portrayal as a powerful agent of resistance and change challenges not only the historical record but also contemporary eighteenth-century notions of femininity and feminine agency.
From the outset of Trigueros' play, Egilona is portrayed as a figure consumed by rage over Abdalasis' infidelities. Her desire for retribution manifests in a direct appeal to Ayub to assassinate the emir. While initially taken aback, Ayub ultimately acquiesces, rationalizing his decision by invoking Abdalasis' alleged intentions to break vassalage with the Arab caliph, Miramamolín. This narrative choice underscores Egilona's capacity for strategic manipulation and political maneuvering.
Egilona's influencial role is further exemplified by her calculated advice to Abdalasis to "don the royal crown," a suggestion intended not to elevate him, but to precipitate his downfall (Trigueros 61). This plot element echoes the Crónica mozárabe de 754, which attributes Abdalasis' coronation aspirations to Egilona's influence. However, Trigueros subverts this historical narrative, presenting it as Egilona's stratagem to delegitimize the conquest of Spain, rather than a genuine attempt at power consolidation in Umayyads hands. Egilona suggests that her offer was a ruse, and she did not really intend to allow Abdalasis to crown himself, because this would legitimize the conquest of Spain.
The playwright's characterization of Egilona is imbued with traits traditionally associated with medieval masculine arrogance. Her discourse is not one of lamentation or explanation, but of asserting her right to vengeance. This portrayal is complicated by her profession of an unconventional, intense love for Abdalasis, which paradoxically compels her to seek his demise (Garelli 24). Egilona's invocation of her 'proud Visigoth blood' (Trigueros 4) serves to align her actions with a sense of noble lineage and duty, further legitimizing her claim to power.
Trigueros presents Egilona as a figure naturally assuming royal responsibilities in the power vacuum leftby Don Rodrigo's demise. Although Abdalasis technically occupies a position of authority in the play (Cañas Murillo 93), he is not depicted as powerful man. Egilona is portrayed as the de facto ruler, while Abdalasis is relegated to a position of weakness. The implication is that if the emir truly held power, he would not need to resort to marriage or palace intrigues to secure what should have been won by force.
Trigueros' elaboration of the myth of a Christian queen who maintains her power and religious identity, even while married to a Muslim emir, serves to reinforce Christian resilience in the face of conquest. By contrast, Abdalasis is configured according to the model that we can associate with the feminine literary stereotype, fabricated, according to Toril Moi's Feminist Literary Theory, by the patriarchal tradition: that is, he lies, expresses fear, and tries to manipulate a man to be the executor of his plans (62).
Trigueros' construction of Egilona's character transcends her probable historical fate as part of Abdalasis' war spoils. The playwright eschews the queen's victimization and instead portrays her as a proactive protagonist engaged in a multifaceted struggle. This characterization of Egilona, simultaneously working to ameliorate her country's sufferings, mediating between two opposing worlds (Garelli 10) aligns the character with the broader Spanish Counter-Reformation ethos, emphasizing the maintenance and propagation of Christian faith under non-Christian rule.
Notably, Egilona's marriage to Abdalasis is reimagined as a strategic maneuver, placing her in a position of power and advancing the future triumph of Christian Spain. This narrative device transforms a potential symbol of subjugation into an instrument of resistance and eventual victory. This approach is not unique to Trigueros; similar strategies can be observed in other plays of the period, suggesting a broader trend in Spanish dramatic literature of the era.
Antonio Valladares de Sotomayor's play, La Egilona, viuda del rey Don Rodrigo, which was performed in 1785 (Menéndez Pidal 1924: 161), offers a compelling reimagining of Egilona's fate post-conquest. Valladares de Sotomayor was a prolific dramatist and a patriot who authored over 113 plays including an anti-napoleonic piece La gran victoria de España en los campos de Vitoria (Gies 69). His authorship of La Egilona, confirmed in the institutional repository of the University of Oviedo, presents a narrative that intertwines historical figures with fictional elements to create a potent allegory of Spanish resistance.
In Valladares' rendition, a Visigoth vassal named Pelayo conceals Egilona near Seville to prevent her capture by Umayyad forces. This Pelayo, while sharing a name with the legendary Asturian hero of Covadonga, serves a different narrative function. Rather than embodying the genesis of the Reconquista, he acts as a guardian of Visigoth legacy, symbolized by the widowed queen.
Pelayo's protective strategy involves a proposed marriage between Egilona and his son, notably named Rodrigo -an onomastic echo of the fallen Visigoth king. This narrative device serves to reinforce continuity with the pre-conquest order. Pelayo's justification for his actions, articulated at the play's outset, frames Egilona as a living emblem of Christian Spain. By safeguarding her from Muza and Tarif, Pelayo asserts that he has forestalled the complete triumph of the conquering forces.
The symbolic conflation of Egilona with Spain itself is further underscored when she ultimately falls into Abdalasis' hands. Celima, the Caliph's sister, articulates this connection explicitly, admonishing Abdalasis for his lenient treatment of the queen. Her warning about the dangers of leaving the Visigoth heir alive (Valladares de Sotomayor 11-12) heightens dramatic tension and reinforces the queen's role as a locus of potential resistance and continuity.
Valladares de Sotomayor's play introduced a narrative twist reminiscent of the mythical betrayal of Count Julián. The enamored and jealous Iñigo, incensed by the prospect of a union between the Visigoth queen and Pelayo's son, facilitates Egilona's capture by Arab forces. This plot device serves dual purposes: it advances the narrative while simultaneously evoking historical parallels that would resonate with contemporary audiences. Although Egilona is a captive, her characterization defies the typical representation of a defeated ruler. She maintains a regal demeanor throughout, projecting an image of victory rather than defeat. This characterization is particularly evident in her encounter with Abdalasis, whose immediate capitulation to her presence underscores her symbolic power. Abdalasis's declaration of matrimonial intent further reinforces Egilona's dominance within the narrative.
It is important to note that Valladares de Sotomayor eschews the trope of a Muslim conqueror's romantic conquest over a Christian queen. To avoid such an interpretation, the author places Egilona in a position of power in her negotiation with Abdalasis. She articulates a series of demands that the Arab leader must fulfill as a precondition to marriage, including renouncing his religion. This serves to invert the expected power dynamics between captor and captive. The Arab governor reacts with total consent to the demands of Rodrigo's widow, even regarding the matter of religious conversion. Abdalasis seals Egilona's triumph by stating that he will do first what is convenient for Spain, for the Christians, for her, and for himself (Valladares de Sotomayor 16). His acquiescence to Egilona's demands represents a symbolic victory and projects the queen's personal triumph with the broader narrative of Spanish resistance and eventual liberation from Moorish rule (Valladares de Sotomayor 16). The playwright thus presents Egilona as a redemptive figure, capable of negotiating the end of Muslim governance through her personal initiative and diplomatic acumen.
The queen exhibits a keen awareness of her crucial patriotic function, leveraging this role to rationalize her proposed union with the Arab leader. In her discourse with her loyal vassal, Pelayo, Egilona strategically shifts focus from the potentially controversial fact of the marriage itself to emphasize the broader implications of her ascension to power. She frames her actions within a providential narrative, asserting that heaven has ordained her as the instrument of national salvation. Egilona's claim that she will "occupy the throne that adverse fortune snatched from her" (Valladares de Sotomayor 16) serves a dual purpose: it legitimizes her actions as a reclamation of rightful authority while simultaneously casting her potential reign as a reversal of Spain's misfortunes. This rhetorical strategy not only justifies her personal choices but also positions her as a transformative figure in a larger narrative of national redemption and restoration.
The narrative structure of the play emphatically underscores Egilona's superior position in her power dynamic with Abdalasis, clearly delineating her exercise of authority as transcending his own. Notably, even prior to the nuptials, Rodrigo's widow effectively supplants Abdalasis, assuming control and actively shaping the course of events. Despite her ostensibly informal status as a guest of the governor, Egilona's commands are unquestioningly obeyed by Mahometo, the head of the guard, demonstrating her de facto authority. This portrayal of Egilona's dominance reaches its zenith in the play's denouement, mirroring a similar construct in Trigueros' work. Here, Egilona's power manifests not only in her ability to issue orders to military personnel -who comply as though she held official rank- but also in her strategic organization of a mixed force of Christian and Moorish soldiers to secure the palace. This depiction stands in stark contrast to Abdalasis, who is portrayed as thoroughly emasculated and incapable of fulfilling his gubernatorial duties. The climactic conflict unfolds largely beyond Abdalasis' purview, with Egilona assuming comprehensive control. Consequently, her ultimate triumph symbolically represents the triumph of Spain itself.
Valladares de Sotomayor's portrayal of Rodrigo's widow parallels Trigueros' protagonist in her appropriation of traditionally masculine discourse and roles within the patriarchal societal framework. Egilona assumes the role of protector, asserting her defense of her husband's "kind and precious life," while Abdalasis is depicted in a feminized manner, expressing astonishment and rendered speechless (Valladares de Sotomayor 36). This inversion of gender roles is further exemplified when Abdalasis questions Mahometo about an unfulfilled order, only to have Egilona interject, explaining that she countermanded it for his benefit (Valladares de Sotomayor 32). The play reinforces Egilona's dominance as Abdalasis acquiesces to her protection. She informs him of her unilateral actions: the arrest of two individuals and the strategic positioning of both Christian and Moorish guards at the palace doors, actions executed by Mahometo at her behest (Valladares de Sotomayor 36). This characterization of Abdalasis resonates with the feminized construction of Muslim men in medieval and Renaissance texts, as analyzed by Louise Mirrer (1996, 4). In such literary works, Muslim men are often portrayed as divested of their masculinity, depicted as courteous and understanding in their interactions with Christian men, even in the face of contempt and insults. This literary trope extends beyond Valladares de Sotomayor's work, finding echoes in other plays of the period such as Quintana's tragedy Pelayo and Gómez de Avellaneda's tragic drama Egilona. It serves to undermine the authority and power of the Umayyad leaders by presenting them as weak and submissive. In contrast, the Christian characters are often portrayed as bold, assertive, and unyielding in their beliefs and actions. This dichotomy serves to reinforce the idea of a fundamental incompatibility between the two cultures and religions, while also legitimizing the actions of the Christian characters in their quest to reclaim Spain from Muslim rule.
In Valladares y Sotomayor's dramatic work, Abdalasis' abdication of power facilitates Egilona's ascension to a position of dominance. The significance of this power shiftis underscored by Abdalasis' deferential appellations of Egilona as "my mistress"and "Queen of Spain," coupled with his assertion that she will rightfully occupy the throne and wield the scepter. The ceremony depicting the transfer of royal power and the crown to Egilona, officiated by Pelayo and Rodrigo, further diminishes Abdalasis' authority, relegating him to the role of a mere witness. Notably, when addressing the audience and these Christian characters, Abdalasis does not command but rather recommends the proclamation of Rodrigo's widow as queen, thereby ceding the decision-making power to them.
This fictional construct effectively transmutes the historical Visigoth defeat into a literary triumph for Christian Spain. Egilona, in replacing the absent Don Rodrigo, reverses the catastrophic outcome of the Battle of Guadalete while surpassing her predecessor in virtue. Her characterization as a flawless heroine serves a dual purpose: it suggests that Egilona's exemplary qualities appease divine wrath and symbolically atone for the deceased king's transgressions.
The playwright's treatment of Egilona's virtue is particularly noteworthy. It is metaphorically rendered as light, imbued with symbolic significance as it represents the renewal of Christian Spain (Valladares de Sotomayor 11). This imagery reinforces the thematic conflation of Egilona's personal redemptive power with the broader narrative of national restoration.
From an ideological point of view, the parallel between Iñigo and Count Julián allows inverting in the text the historical consequences of latter's betrayal. Although the Moors discover Egilona's whereabouts through information provided by the young Goth, this betrayal unexpectedly benefits the Christians when Egilona emerges victorious from the ensuing confrontation. The play's optimistic denouement further reinforces this revisionist approach. Valladares de Sotomayor prioritizes narrative satisfaction over historical accuracy, disregarding the widely accepted account of Abdalasis' assassination by order of the Caliph of Damascus. Instead, the playwright opts for a conclusion that validates Egilona's ascension as she takes on the role of a male protector and saves her husband's life, and, by extension, suggests Spain's symbolic victory. This is epitomized in Abdalasis' final proclamation, affirming Egilona's right to rule both his affections and Spain itself, followed by a chorus hailing "their great Queen Egilona to live for eternal centuries" (36).
The tragedy's conclusion thus serves a dual purpose: it affirms the triumph of virtue and the resurgence of Spanish power. This literary construct exemplifies how eighteenth-century Spanish drama functioned as a vehicle for reimagining national history. It offered a narrative of resilience and ultimate victory that transcended historical defeat, allowing playwrights to reframe Spain's past in a more empowering light.
In José de Vargas y Ponce's tragedy Abdalaziz y Egilona, the Visigoth queen is portrayed as an active agent of power from the opening scene, exhibiting firm and authoritarian behavior. The author was interested in creating a neoclassical tragedy focused on national history in line with the collaborative efforts of other contemporary dramatists (Durán López 35, 52). The play combines adherence to neoclassical rules and some influence of the previous dramatic tradition (Romero Ferrer 120) with the central conflict revolving around the proposed marriage between the titular characters.
Both the Visigoth and Moorish factions are scandalized by the potential union of the Christian queen and the Arab conqueror. The Goths believe Egilona tarnishes her lineage by joining Abdalaziz in marriage, while the Moors fear the influence the Visigoth queen might exert on their Muslim leader. Ibrahim, the religious leader of the Arabs, laments the court's acceptance of Egilona's dominance (Vargas y Ponce 2). General Mahomad further emphasizes Egilona's elevated status in his conversation with the Visigoth character Teudis. He confirms that Rodrigo's widow is neither a slave nor a war trophy but enjoys her freedom and wields total power over the alcazar of Córdoba (Vargas y Ponce 8).
Vargas y Ponce includes in the play the reference to the myth presenting the Muslim victory as divine punishment for the transgressions of Visigoth rulers. He underscores that "an unbridled Witiza who, after villainous and lewd appetites, dragged his court, his palace, and his very throne offthe path of virtue" (7). The rationalization for the rapid Arab conquest of the Iberian Peninsula and the fall of the Christian kingdom is reinforced in Mahomad's speech, where he states that "the abandonment of virtue led Rodrigo and his kingdom to sink into the abyss of desolation" (Vargas y Ponce 5).
In the tragedy by Vargas y Ponce, as in Egilona, la viuda del rey Rodrigo, by Valladares de Sotomayor, the fact that the Arab general Mahomad gives explanations and asks for help from the representative of a defeated king is indicative of the weakness of the Umayyads and aims to reduce the importance of their victory. Mahomad is concerned about the imminent marriage between his chief and the Christian widow. He confesses his fears that the dismal fate of Don Rodrigo awaits Abdalaziz if he marries the widow. He also suggests that the planned wedding is as illegal and sacrilegious as the out-of-wedlock-relationship between Don Rodrigo and Florinda. He believes that for lack of legitimacy this marriage can lead to similar disastrous outcome for the Arab governor. From his words, it can be deduced that the union between Rodrigo's widow and the Arab governor can trigger the rebellion of the Christians and the destruction of the Muslim kingdom. Mahomad's insecurity is confirmed by the demonstrations of Abdalasis' weakness. He is represented as a character incapable of assuming power, controlling his destiny, or exercising authority over his subjects and soldiers. The treatment of this Arab character is similar to the one we observe in Trigueros and Valladares de Sotomayor's plays.
The configuration of Egilona as an agent of Christian power, corroborated by Mahomad and Ibrahim, along with her active role in the plot, underscores the fragility of the Arab conquest. In Teudis 'words, the queen is the only hope of her people, and the nation through him commands her to assume her patriotic role (Vargas y Ponce 11). This speech reproduces the way in which the Goths address Don Pelayo in the neoclassical tragedies when they insist on his historical destiny. However, what is significant is that Egilona does not assume a redemptive heroic function through military uprising similar to the one led by Don Pelayo. In this play it is not Egilona's effort that has value for the survival of the Visigoth royal house and European Christianity; instead, she is the bearer of the honor and purity of her lineage, which must be protected from the aggression of the Other. The importance of this ethnogenetic function is confirmed in the scene where Teudis conceives the idea of killing Egilona to avoid a situation where the honor of the Goths, and by extension, that of Spain, deposited in the queen's body, would be at risk.
The situation becomes even more complicated when Teudis discovers that he is Egilona's father, forcing him to weigh his paternal obligations against his responsibility as Christian warrior. The conflict is resolved with the death of both protagonists. As a consequence of palace intrigues, Ibrahim kills Abdalasis, and Egilona commits suicide. Vargas y Ponce insists on the absence of a physical relationship between the Muslim leader and the Christian queen, thereby defending the purity of blood of the Spaniards at the historical moment of the nation's crystallization and symbolically denying the possibility of coexistence between the two ethnic groups. In this way, the play is inscribed in the hegemonic discourse that rejects the participation of the Moors in the ethnogenesis of the Spanish nation. The work emphasizes the importance of preserving the Visigoth lineage and the Christian faith, portraying the Arab conquest as a fragile and temporary occurrence that must be resisted and ultimately overcome.
In conclusion, the theatrical representation of Queen Egilona in eighteenth and nineteenth century Spanish drama provides a compelling lens through which to examine the intricate relationship between historical reimagining, national identity formation, and evolving gender roles. Egilona's dramatic journey from a marginal historical figure to a central protagonist reveals Spain's broader cultural project of self-definition in the face of its complex past.
Playwrights used Egilona's character to refract anxieties about national identity, recasting her as a symbol of Christian resilience to resolve the cultural trauma of the Muslim conquest. The varying treatments of her character -from Trigueros' conflicted queen to Valladares de Sotomayor's triumphant ruler- highlight the malleability of historical figures in service of contemporary ideological needs. Significantly, Egilona's characterization as a powerful female protagonist both challenges traditional gender norms and reinforces certain patriarchal ideals, reflecting the complex negotiation of gender roles in Spanish society.
The significance of Egilona's portrayal extends beyond literary analysis, offering insights into the process of national mythmaking. These theatrical works demonstrate how societies use art to negotiate traumatic pasts and project desired futures. By reimagining Egilona, Spanish playwrights were actively participating in shaping Spain's collective memory and national identity.
Nations construct and maintain their identities through cultural production and theater wields a formidable power as a tool in the process of social construction of history. As we continue to grapple with questions of identity, cultural interaction, and the role of historical narrative in shaping national consciousness, the story of Egilona's dramatic reinvention remains remarkably relevant. It reminds us that our understanding of the past is always mediated through the lens of the present, and that literature plays a crucial role in this ongoing process of cultural negotiation and self-definition.
Footnote
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