In an earlier post on arms and letters I think I mentioned that Cervantes participated in the battle of Lepanto, the 1571 sea battle that decisively ended Ottoman naval supremecy in the Mediterranean.
In my agonizingly slow meandering through Don Quijote I have now come to Chapter XXXIX of the First Part, "Donde el cautivo cuenta su vida y sucesos," ("The Captive's Tale"). What is interesting is how this particular tale gives the novel an autobiographical turn:
Súpose cierto que venía por general desta liga el serenísimo don Juan de Austria, hermano natural de nuestro buen rey don Felipe. Divulgóse el grandísimo aparato de guerra que se hacía. Todo lo cual me incitó y conmovió el ánimo y el deseo de verme en la jornada que se esperaba; y, aunque tenía barruntos, y casi promesas ciertas, de que en la primera ocasión que se ofreciese sería promovido a capitán, lo quise dejar todo y venirme, como me vine, a Italia. Y quiso mi buena suerte que el señor don Juan de Austria acababa de llegar a Génova, que pasaba a Nápoles a juntarse con la armada de Venecia, como después lo hizo en Mecina.
»Digo, en fin, que yo me hallé en aquella felicísima jornada, ya hecho capitán de infantería, a cuyo honroso cargo me subió mi buena suerte, más que mis merecimientos. Y aquel día, que fue para la cristiandad tan dichoso, porque en él se desengañó el mundo y todas las naciones del error en que estaban, creyendo que los turcos eran invencibles por la mar: en aquel día, digo, donde quedó el orgullo y soberbia otomana quebrantada, entre tantos venturosos como allí hubo (porque más ventura tuvieron los cristianos que allí murieron que los que vivos y vencedores quedaron), yo solo fui el desdichado, pues, en cambio de que pudiera esperar, si fuera en los romanos siglos, alguna naval corona, me vi aquella noche que siguió a tan famoso día con cadenas a los pies y esposas a las manos.
The parallel isn't exact. Cervantes was not captured at the battle of Lepanto but four years later off the Catalonian coast, seized by Ottoman pirates and sold in Algiers. He was five years a slave before ransomed and returned to Spain.
Now to me one of the curious facets of Don Quijote is the conceit, first alluded to at the beginning of Chapter IX of the first part, that Cervantes, far from composing this narrative, is merely translating it from an Arabic manuscipt by "Cide Hamete Benengeli, historiador arabigo." Many a commentator has noted how the "book within a book" spawns metalayers of meaning. But I've always wondered why a soldier of Christendom, a late crusader, and a slave in Moslem North Africa, should attribute his magnum opus to an Arab at a time of fairly strenuous and continuous warfare between the two civilizations.
Fast-forward now to the middle of the twentieth century. A young French historian is working on his first major project, a history of the battle of Lepanto. But the year is 1939, and he enters the French Army and becomes a prisoner of war. Unexpectedly, in the years of his captivity, he composes the first draft for what is later recognized as one of the great histories of his generation, The Mediterranean and the Mediterranean World in the Age of Philip II. By the time it's completed it is still focused, allegedly, on Lepanto. But he feels that some context is needed. So, in the three-volume edition/translation I own, the entire first volume is dedicated to geography--the mountains, the coasts, the islands, the cross-roads, the great plain of the sea itself--all the physical constraints within which the merely human history that plays itself out. The second volume addresses long term human structures and fault lines--economies and civilizations which, though lacking the permanance of geography, nevertheless change little over the centuries. Only in the last volume do we come to people and politics, and they by this time seem rather insignificant.
Cervantes' life could have been a great novel in itself, but he subordinated it to the great work of the Quijote, and then wrote himself in as a digression. Braudel began with a conventional aim to tell the story of a great battle. Did his own battle, and captivity, drive him to drawing back, more and more, to subordinating his subject to the greater world, and under that aspect become newly perceived as a mere episode?
Two writers, two soldiers, two captives, one battle. A distancing absurdity and a diminution worked by geological time.