Divine Spectacle:Staging Noah's Ark in Baroque Sevillea
This essay examines the biblical comedia titled El arca de Noé, written collaboratively by Jerónimo de Cancer, Antonio Martínez de Meneses, and Pedro Rosete Niño, within the context of its 1644 performance at the Corral de la Montería in Seville. La Montería was a royal theater built within the Alcázar of Seville and differed significantly from the typical corral de comedias of the time. Attending to the uniqueness of this city and playhouse provides insight into the reception of El arca de Noé there. My analysis focuses on two aspects of the 1644 staging. First, I describe the various theatrical effects called for in the play, some of which would have been more difficult in a public corral, but for which the Montería's construction and stage machinery were ideal. Second, I examine the references within the dialogue that, as I argue, would have been understood at the time as references to Seville and La Montería.
IN 1641–42, autor de comedias Antonio de Rueda (1600?–1662) and his company were working in Madrid (Historia Hispánica). They had spent the previous season performing at the Corral de la Montería in Seville, where they would return the following year (Pineda Novo 60–63). While he was in the capital, as Javier Rubiera and Alejandro García-Reidy hypothesize, Rueda probably purchased two comedias from a trio of collaborators, identified in the fashion of collaborative composition as "Tres Ingenios": Antonio Martínez de Meneses, Pedro Rosete Niño, and Jerónimo de Cancer. One of these plays, El mejor representante, San Ginés, according to Rubiera and García-Reidy, features metatheatrical references to Madrid within its verses, suggesting it spoke to the company's season in residence in the capital (42–43). The second comedia Rueda purchased, El arca de Noé, includes stage directions and parleys that would have been difficult to perform in either of the capital's two public theaters. Its text includes calls for sophisticated stage effects in its portrayal of the biblical Flood, several of which could not be accommodated in the typical corral de comedias.2
Why would an itinerant autor de comedias acquire a script ill suited for the main venues in Spain's political and cultural center? He evidently purchased El arca de Noé not to perform in Madrid, but rather for his imminent return to La Montería, where his company would debut it in 1644. Having recently performed there, Rueda likely knew what kind of work would meet its technical capabilities and resonate with its playgoers. Without a paper trail, [End Page 81] of course, it is not possible to know the precise nature of Rueda's transaction with the Tres Ingenios, but there are three possibilities. One is that the script, as the playwrights composed it, happened to be a good fit for La Montería, motivating Rueda to acquire it. Another is that Rueda commissioned the Tres Ingenios to write the work according to his specifications so that it would play well at the Sevillian theater. A third possibility is that, after buying the script, Rueda and his company introduced changes to adapt the work for performance at La Montería, with such alterations recorded in the princeps edition published in an anthology in 1665. This was a common practice: as José María Ruano de la Haza explains, playwrights typically kept stage directions few and flexible so that plays could be performed in a variety of spaces. When stage directions are specific and abundant, it tends to indicate that a given text is "la versión escenificada de esa comedia" (49). The abundance of concrete stage directions in El arca de Noé makes the third scenario for understanding the drama's textual and performance history the most likely.
In any of these three scenarios, the autor de comedias must have kept in mind the specificities of time and urban space in which his company would perform. Scholars of early modern theater would be well served to do the same. Recent work in art history has proven the value of analyzing creative production within a particular urban space. Tanya J. Tiffany, for example, manages to cast new light on the formative years of that most canonical of painters, Diego Velázquez, by situating his work within the unique economic, demographic, cultural, and artistic context of Seville. Amanda Wunder, in her book Baroque Seville: Sacred Art in a Century of Crisis, demonstrates that the baroque aesthetic was "fraught with meaning" in the Sevillian context (5). In other words, while the characteristics of early modern cultural production were prevalent throughout Spain and even Europe, they took on a specific meaning in Seville. By analyzing works against the backdrop of Seville's distinctiveness, these scholars provide rich interpretations that offer powerful insight into how aesthetic creations were produced and experienced.
The field of comedia studies, on the other hand, sometimes tends towards decontextualized or Madrid-centric readings. There is a historical basis for this tendency. In his monumental History of the Spanish Stage, N.D. Shergold points out a paradox about the relationship between Madrid and other cities in Spain's seventeenth-century theater industry. Madrid, until the inauguration of the Buen Retiro in 1640, made do with two rather simple corrales de comedias, while Valencia and Seville enjoyed state-of-the-art, purpose-built theaters. Despite the superiority of these peripheral performance spaces, however, comedias normally debuted in the capital before trickling down to the rest of the peninsula (547). As a result, scholarship and teaching on the comedia often assume a typical corral de comedias performance space and madrileño audience when imagining a seventeenth-century staging. This assumption is understandable: while it can be difficult to pinpoint the time and place that a play was produced, we can suppose that, to be successful, a work needed to have been playable in the capital city. Such an approach does not take into account, however, the variety of theatrical experiences available outside of Madrid, where many comedias are known to have been staged. [End Page 82]
El arca de Noé's performance at La Montería in Seville dazzled with its ambitious staging and massive scale, both made possible by that theater's architecture and machinery. This play is not widely known, however, even among specialists. In fact, only one other study examines it in detail: Francisco Sáez Raposo's "Sobre las particularidades de la puesta en escena de El arca de Noé, comedia de tres ingenios," a chapter in a volume on collaboratively written theater in early modern Spain. As the title indicates, Sáez Raposo takes a performance-based approach. He chooses, however, to situate the work's stage effects in a traditional corral de comedias: "En mi deseo de encontrar respuestas satisfactorias a las inciertas cuestiones de la puesta en escena de esta comedia, no consideraré las particularidades de un ámbito escénico concreto (el Corral de la Montería), con sus singularidades, sino que pensaré en un arquetipo e ideal corral de comedias peninsular" (256). Yet he does not justify this avoidance of La Montería and also acknowledges that he is unaware of other performances of this work in public spaces (256).3 His study is a valuable exploration of how El arca de Noé could have been adapted for performance in more typical corrales de comedias. Nevertheless, his methodology leaves a gap in our understanding of performance context as it intertwines with city life. I propose to address the questions that result from place and space.
My analysis will consist of two parts. First, I will examine elements of El arca de Noé's staging for which La Montería was well suited, but which may have been done differently in a traditional corral de comedias. I will then examine aspects of the work's action and dialogue that would have become "fraught with meaning," to use Wunder's phrase (5), which is to say that they would have had site-specific resonance for an audience at La Montería. Both parts of this analysis will demonstrate the close relationship between this specific work and Seville, while also demonstrating the value of site-specific interpretation for theater studies more generally.
A Space for Spectacle and Scripture
La Montería was a purpose-built, coliseum-style theater constructed within the walls of the Real Alcázar in 1626, the palace in the heart of Seville that was then—and remains today—the property and an official residence of the royal family. Designed to provide theatrical entertainment for Felipe IV during his stays in Seville (Pineda Novo 16), La Montería was nevertheless a public theater, in the sense that it was leased to local arrendadores (lessees/managers) who paid rent from the income they made hosting theatrical productions for the public. As a royal construction, as well as a purpose-built theater, its design was the most cutting edge of its time. The first oval-shaped theater in Europe, La Montería was covered with a wooden roof whose ceiling was decorated with a painted allegory of Fame, marking an important structural contrast to the traditional, open-air corrales de comedias (Reyes Peña and Palacios 50; Pineda Novo 21). State-of-the-art stage machinery matched the structural innovations.
Sevillian theatergoers of every social class, therefore, came to expect and even demand comedias de apariencias. These religious plays, rich in special effects, tended to have much longer runs in that city, remaining on stage [End Page 83] eight to ten days, as opposed to three days for more conventional comedias (Sentaurens, "Los corrales" 86). Once, just the year before the debut of El arca de Noé, the Inquisition cancelled the performance of a comedia de apariencias titled San Cristóbal. Audience members rioted. They entered the dressing room, tore the costumes to shreds, and sent the actors fleeing in terror (Sánchez Arjona 124–25).4
Textual evidence within El arca de Noé suggests a drama conceived with La Montería's technical capabilities in mind, with a keen sense of the theatergoing public's thirst for spectacle in Seville. Abundant stage directions call for pyrotechnics and other lighting, as well as heavy stage machinery. As I discuss ahead, these effects are integral to the drama's thematic development.
The database CATCOM, reflecting the scholarly consensus, dates the Sevillian performance of El arca de Noé to sometime during February 1644 (CATCOM). It is important to note, however, that Lent began that year on 10 February, putting an end to theatrical activity. Rueda's company must therefore have performed the work during the first nine days of the month. We can deduce a still more precise date by taking into account La Montería's workings. The two plays performed during that nine-day period were El arca de Noé and Calderón's Mañanas de abril y mayo (Sentaurens, Seville 1096, 1101). As Jean Sentaurens explains, a new play, or comedia nueva, debuted on the Monday of each week, while an old favorite, called the comedia vieja, appeared on Thursday. Whereas the comedia vieja came from the company's recent repertoire, the comedia nueva was either a new composition or the revival of a work from at least ten years before ("Los corrales" 81). Since Mañanas de abril y mayo had been part of Rueda's previous season at that theater, we may assume that it was the comedia vieja, and that it was revived on Thursday, 4 February 1644. This means that El arca de Noé was the new play, performed on Monday, 1 February. Consequently, this was either its premiere or a revival performance of a work staged a decade earlier. No records document an earlier performance, and the few scholars who have suggested a date for its composition place it within the decade before 1644. Consequently, the performance on 1 February 1644 at La Montería was almost certainly the first.5
In light of this performance context and audience predisposition, how might El arca de Noé have satisfied the public's demand for entertaining comedias de apariencias? Its plot expands and elaborates on the account of the Flood found in Genesis 6–9 and emphasizes the effects of supernatural intervention on Earth. Its action can be divided into two planes: the mortal and the supernatural. On the mortal plane, the characters are Noé (Noah) and his sons, Sem (Shem), Cam (Ham), and Iafet (Japheth), all of whom are named in the biblical account, as well as their respective wives: Bartena, Celfora, Ada, and Serafila, whose existence is implied in Genesis, but whose names appear to have been invented by the playwrights. Additional mortal characters include Cam's friends Nacor and Farés, neither of whom figure in the Genesis account of the Flood. Their names do, however, appear elsewhere in the Bible, Nacor (Nahor) as the name of both Abraham's grandfather and brother (Gen. 11.22–26), and Farés (Pharez) as a son of Judah (Gen. 38.29), among other places. I agree with Sáez Raposo's [End Page 84] assessment that these names were chosen for their "evidente sonoridad bíblica y no con ninguna connotación ulterior" (257). On the supernatural plane, the main characters are the Angel and the Devil, as well as two additional angels who appear at the end.
Act 1 establishes contact between the human and supernatural planes. It opens with Noé, Sem, and Iafet witnessing a sign from heaven in the form of a flaming serpent. Iafet then recounts a dream he has had in which a beautiful woman appeared to him promising that one of the sons of Noé will be her ancestor. Sem and Iafet both covet this honor, while Cam shows no interest. The Devil, determined to prevent the advent of this woman, encourages Nacor, the spurned lover of Serafila, to kill Iafet, but the Angel thwarts this attempt. Noé announces his revelation that the world will be destroyed by flood and that he and his family must build the Ark. Sem, Iafet, and their wives believe him, but Cam and his friends do not.
The Devil takes more active measures to disrupt heavenly designs as act 2 unfolds. Now disguised in human form as Angelio, he encourages Cam to burn the Ark, but is thwarted. The people of the city of Enoch mock Noé's efforts at building the Ark, but Sem and Iafet resolve to help him finish it. Iafet is assigned to gather the animals, and Cam to register them as they enter. As the rain begins to fall, the Devil encourages Nacor to kidnap Serafila, but she escapes when lightning blinds him. The family of Noé enters the Ark, but the people of the city of Enoch are barred from doing so.
Act 3 begins as, the waters now receded, Noé releases the animals from the Ark. Determined to discredit Noé in the eyes of his family, the Devil makes them believe first that there are other survivors, then that the Flood did not happen at all. He also encourages Cam to go and mock his father, who is drunk and naked after making the first wine. Cam does so, then calls his brothers, who cover their father, as in the biblical account. Upon awaking, Noé blesses Sem and Iafet's descendants, and curses Cam's. Two angels appear declaring that from Sem will descend Christ, and that from Iafet will descend the Spanish people—presumably represented by the woman from Iafet's vision. The Devil claims Cam as his own, declaring that his descendants will populate Hell.
Eliciting Awe and Wonder
Stage directions within the playtext call for a variety of special effects in order to conjure supernatural interventions in human affairs and, in so doing, reinforce the didactic elements inherent in the Flood story. Many of these effects would have to be modified or eliminated completely for performance in a more traditional corral de comedias, which, given their thematic importance, would impoverish the performance. In the following analysis, I adhere to Ruano de la Haza's methodology for determining if a stage effect was employed, in contrast to images left to the audience's imagination. First, each example comes from stage directions, not dialogue (although in some cases the dialogue may reinforce the stage directions). Second, each example forms part of the main action and is not merely a side mention. Third, each is integral to the work's symbolism and themes (327). Exploring the special effects found throughout El arca de Noé gives a powerful sense of the way [End Page 85] wonder and edification worked in tandem.
One striking dimension of El arca de Noé is how the playtext calls for pyrotechnics and other forms of artificial light. Here, one sees the importance of La Montería's structural innovations, since these effects were used sparingly in traditional performance spaces. After all, the typical corral de comedias is an open-air structure with a canvas awning overhead used to disperse the sunlight evenly (Ruano de la Haza 266). While open flames were occasionally used in the corrales, natural sunlight usually made them an unnecessary hazard. La Montería, on the other hand, had a roof. Sunlight played no role in productions there—in fact, it was one of the rare theaters with nighttime performances—so fire was a requirement (Ruano de la Haza 265n30). In addition to the candles and torches necessary to make the stage visible, pyrotechnics were common at La Montería: "se construyen apariencias de fuego, que constituyen auténticas piezas de fuegos artificiales, con antorchas, cohetes, ruedas iluminadas y cascadas de centellas" (Sentaurens, "Los corrales" 85). Indeed, fireworks such as "cohetes" and "dragones" were listed among the regular expenses of Laura de Herrera, one of the seventeenth-century arrendadores of La Montería, as were the salary and lodging for a fire watchman hired to prevent accidental blazes from spreading (Sentaurens, Seville 369–70).
In El arca de Noé, pyrotechnics provide thematically crucial symbols that represent God's power over the events unfolding on stage. For example, the play opens with the appearance of "un cometa en forma de sierpe" (fol. 45r [stage direction]).6 Covarrubias defines "cometa" as "una impresión ígnita," implying the use of fire. This is confirmed in the dialogue when Sem addresses the comet, saying:
Monstruo, al ardor que derramas,vuele este arpón menos ciego,escamado estás de llamas;mas templarále tu fuego,si le embotan tus escamas. (emphasis added)
(fol. 45r)
The layering of words evoking fire here strongly implies the use of pyrotechnics in the shape of a serpent. Such a fiery spectacle would not have been uncommon in early modern Europe; indeed, flaming serpents and dragons had regularly featured in the pageantry of Phillip II's court the century before (Vázquez Mantecón 118). We can glean some idea of this special effect in a passage by the English gunner John Babington in 1635 in his instructions for "How to make a Dragon, or any other creature to run on the Line, by the help of fire," in which he says,
let your Dragon be made either of pasteboard, or else of fine rods … with a place in the belly to put in two rockets, and shall be so ordered, that there may come a small pipe from the tail of one, to the head of the other; then make a place in the eyes, and mouth, to put into each hole fire … then on the top of the back let there be fastened two small pulleys for the line to run in. …
The gunner, in another chapter, explains how to produce a similar pyrotechnic dragon or serpent able to move along a line without rocket-powered thrust (37). [End Page 86]
Regardless of the precise method used to create it, this fiery serpent would have had a profound effect on audience members, conveying to them the power of divine intervention. Given that Noé subsequently enters with a torch in hand, we may assume that the theater was in darkness for the appearance of the flaming serpent, heightening the impact of the pyrotechnic. The Patriarch then scolds his sons for having attacked the serpent, saying, "estimáis las [luces] de la tierra, / y os enojan las del cielo," and tells them that the heavenly ones are superior because they contain divine warnings (fol. 45r). The appearance of the fiery serpent, along with Noé's explanation, establishes a leitmotif based on the dichotomy between "divine light" and "earthly" or demonic light.
The arresting conclusion to act 2 hinges on a similar contrast of heavenly and earthly lights. This act dramatizes the conflict between those who believe in Noé's prophecy, and those who do not, as well as the Devil's mounting efforts to thwart divine will. One of his pawns in this endeavor is Nacor, the spurned admirer of Iafet's new bride Serafila. As thunder rumbles and rain begins to fall in confirmation of Noé's prophecy, the Devil convinces Nacor that he has magically produced this storm as a cover to allow the latter to kidnap Serafila. The Devil attempts, in other words, to subvert the message of the heavenly signs by confusing the dichotomy established by Noé at the start of the play. Just as Nacor is about to carry off Serafila, however, the stage directions call for "un rayo," likely accomplished by some form of pyrotechnic (fol. 56v).7 The lightning blinds Nacor, allowing Serafila to escape and join Iafet on the Ark before its door closes. As with the fiery serpent at the start of the play, it is a pyrotechnic that reinforces the dichotomy between the divine and the demonic.
Torches loom large in the playtext, furthering the recurring contrasts of heavenly and earthly light and thus implicating the audience in the back-and-forth struggle. Initially, they are associated with the Devil, who enters at the start of act 2 "con un hacha encendida" (fol. 51v [stage direction]). Armed with a torch, he seems primed to expand his earthly influence among his new followers:
A grande acción os provococon esta antorcha gallardaNacor, que a los bellos ojosde Serafila te abrasas,siendo tú mismo de tiel sacrificio, y el araFarés, que la Ciudadal tumulto te aventajas. (emphasis added)
(fol. 51v)
For Nacor, who desires Serafila, the torch represents his burning passion, and for Farés, who is jealous of Noé's religious authority, it calls to mind the sacrificial altar central to Noé's liturgical practices.
Although it is the Devil who initially appropriates the torch, it comes to represent the triumph of Heaven over Hell in three instances. First, as part of the Devil's efforts to thwart the divine plan, he calls upon his followers to burn down the Ark. Cam volunteers, so the Devil hands him the torch for that purpose. It becomes more of a pyrotechnic when, miraculously, it flies from [End Page 87] Cam's hand before any harm can be done (fol. 52v). The second instance comes at the end of the second act, when, as rain begins to fall, it is now the Angel who wields a torch, along with a sword, to prevent the unworthy from entering the Ark (fol. 57r). The third is at the end of the play, when Sem and Iafet are each assigned a guardian angel, whereas Cam is left with the Devil to accompany him and his posterity. The Devil, holding an extinguished torch, says, "con esta antorcha muerta / guiaré tus ceguedades" (fol. 62r). The irony of an unlit flame leading a blind man signals both the Devil's defeat and Cam's utter perdition. In all three cases, the torch's physical presence substantiates the theme of the divine triumph over evil.
We lack explicit stage directions to indicate how the torch snatched from Cam's hand was dramatized. The corresponding dialogue implies a swift upward motion, comparing it to an arrow shot skyward:
NACORFlecha pareció vibrada
do quien es pluma la cera,
de quien es arpón la llama.
FARÉSY en el blanco azul del cielo,
astro, o saeta se clava.
(fol. 52v)
The torch's vertical ascent suggests that this may be one of several examples in the work of special effects with technical requirements that could be met by the stage machinery in La Montería. Mercedes de los Reyes Peña and Vicente Palacios, cocreators of a virtual reproduction of the theater, identify six main devices that were available to company directors: 1) trapdoors on the stage floor; 2) back doors; 3) side doors at every level of the stage; 4) the tramoya, or lift; 5) the canal; and 6) machines for sound effects (60–61). El arca de Noé makes use of all these devices, but I will focus on the two that, like the pyrotechnics and torches, contribute the most to depicting the struggle between Heaven and Hell: the tramoya and the canal.
The tramoya was a lift operated by a winch located in the desván de los tornos, an attic above the stage.8 As Reyes Peña and Palacios explain, since the tramoya's mechanism was well hidden in the desván, this stage machinery allowed for complicated and surprising effects (60). It therefore seems a likely candidate for use in the flying torch effect: the torch could have been tied to a hidden cord pulled vertically by the tramoya winch, making it look like a quivering arrow shot upward.9 Reyes Peña and Palacios also posit that the tramoya could be used to lower one actor from above who could then ascend carrying another actor (60). Something like this scenario occurs in act 3 of El arca de Noé. After the Flood has subsided, God prohibits Noé's family from reentering the Ark. When Cam attempts to violate this prohibition, the lion guarding the Ark springs to attack, seizing the intruder's leg: "al entrar, le ase un león de la pierna, y queda colgando" (fol. 60v [stage direction]). He hangs there comically for a few moments, crying out, before finally being let down. (It is safe to assume that the lion is an actor in costume, rather than a real lion.10) One strains to imagine an actor in standing position holding another actor upside down in the air for the time required. Stage machinery likely [End Page 88] intervened. Plausibly, hidden cables, hoisted by the winch above, attached to Cam, and perhaps also the actor dressed as a lion.11 This effect elicits laughter, but also vividly reminds the audience of God's willingness to enforce his commandments.
The tramoya also crowns Heaven's triumph in the play's final scene. The two angels that arrive to announce Sem and Iafet's inheritance are described as entering "en una nube" (fol. 62r [stage direction]). Reyes Peña and Palacios describe a similar closing scene in Calderón's Los amantes del cielo, also performed in La Montería, in which an angel descends perched on an inscription stone. They propose that this effect was carried out by the use of the tramoya. They argue that the angel enters through a trap door in the ceiling eighteen meters above the patio level, is lowered by the turning of the tramoya winch, and descends seven meters to be incorporated into the action on the second floor of the teatro (92–93). The cloud and angels in El arca de Noé likely entered in the same way, through the ceiling. This literal opening of the heavens physically elevates the audience's gaze, drawing it to the victorious divine plane.
The canal—a dual-pulley system on either side of the stage—further provided the vertical drama that El arca de Noé establishes between angel and demon. The canal's pulleys were embedded into the grooves of the stage posts. In fact, the term canal probably refers to these grooves. Each had a small platform upon which actors could sit while ascending as high as the second floor or descending as low as the stage. In this case, the winch was located in the foso, or area beneath the stage (Reyes Peña and Palacios 57). The upward and downward motion provided by the canal would have provided a spectacular effect at the end of act 2, when the prophesied rainfall begins as Noé's family safely enters the Ark. To signal this triumph of good over evil, the Angel taunts the Devil, saying, "tú, bastardo Lucero, / baja al centro que te espera," to which the Devil responds, "Y tú sube, a mi pesar, / a las regiones eternas" (fol. 57r). This dialogue is not merely metaphorical, nor does it describe an offstage action, because the stage directions then read, "Húndese el Demonio, y sube el Ángel" (fol. 57r [stage direction]). It is reasonable to assume that it is the canal that facilitates this rise and descent of the characters on opposing sides of the stage, a sight that would have had a major impact on the audience and reinforced the scene's message of divine triumph.
As these examples demonstrate, El arca de Noé relies upon pyrotechnics and stage machinery for its dramatic effect and thematic development. The resources for producing these effects were readily available and commonly used at La Montería, but would have been more complicated to carry out in traditional corrales de comedias, such as the Corral del Príncipe and Corral de la Cruz in Madrid. Although similar effects were sometimes featured in these playhouses, they seem to have been carried out on a more ad hoc basis during the first several decades of the seventeenth century. For example, Shergold, in his study of documents from the 1660s, speculates that actors violated the terms of their contract by modifying the structure of El Príncipe to accommodate stage effects for specific plays. Subsequent renovations in both theaters tended to grapple with the conundrum of whether to work around or repair the various modifications made for specific performances. As Shergold [End Page 89] explains, in 1688 the Ayuntamiento finally enlisted the help of the royal set designer in redesigning the public playhouses to better accommodate stage effects ("Nuevos documentos" 211–12). According to Phillip B. Thomason, more elaborate works designed for courtly theaters were occasionally performed in the corrales, but were very costly because the machinery had to be borrowed and temporarily installed in spaces not intended for it. Autores were reluctant to undertake this expense (2). It was therefore possible to carry out many of the effects in El arca de Noé in the major public playhouses of Madrid in the 1640s, but probably with more difficulty and greater expense than at La Montería.
A glance at El arca de Noé's performance history confirms that it worked best in a more sophisticated theater space (see fig. 1). During its first century, approximately, it was primarily performed in coliseum-style theaters like La Montería, El Buen Retiro, and one in Valencia (presumably the Olivera), with the exception of two productions at El Príncipe in 1726 and 1734, probably with borrowed stage machinery. Then both La Cruz and El Príncipe underwent major renovations to transform them into modern coliseum-style theaters in 1737 and 1745, respectively. After these changes, staging this work in Madrid became a veritable annual tradition during the first decade or so of the nineteenth century, continuing even into the years of French occupation.
A Biblical Ark for Spain's Atlantic Metropolis
El arca de Noé was an ideal fit for La Montería from a technical perspective. The Sevillian public demanded, and La Montería could readily accommodate, the use of pyrotechnics and stage machinery, effects that this play relies on heavily for its thematic development. I will now turn my attention to aspects of the action and dialogue that, intentionally or not, would have functioned as metatheatrical references, both to La Montería, and to Seville more generally. In other words, I will elucidate how the performative context might have conditioned the meaning and resonance of the play for the audience.
Certain words and phrases in the work gain a special significance at La Montería that they would not have if it were performed elsewhere. For example, in the play's opening scene, in which the flaming serpent makes its spectacular appearance, we encounter Sem and Iafet hunting. This is rather odd given that, in the very next scene, their brother Cam complains about God's antediluvian prohibition against eating meat: "Que esta edad, la carne toda / nos veda, todo es legumbres" (fol. 45v). This detail is based on Genesis 9.3, in which God grants permission after the Flood to eat "everything that liveth and moveth," implying that it had been prohibited before. If Noé's family did not eat meat, why would they be hunting? This incongruity takes on special meaning when considered in the context of the performance space. La Montería was so called because it was built in the courtyard of the Alcázar, known as the Patio de la Montería. The courtyard's name, according to early modern accounts, derived from the fact that the king and his assistants traditionally gathered there before beginning their montería, or hunting, trips (Cómez 24).12 The depiction of the brothers as hunters could, therefore, be taken as alluding to the name of the theater. Iafet's explanation to Noé reinforces this reading: "Con estas armas, siguiendo / la caza en el monte [End Page 90] estaba" (fol. 45r). "La caza," a synonym for montería, is placed in proximity to "monte," its linguistic root. The audience could therefore understand it as a metatheatrical pun reminding them where the play is being performed.
The play also calls attention to the locale in its descriptions of the Ark. In act 3 the directions call for a moveable stage device of some kind representing this ship: "Va saliendo el Arca, hasta donde se para" (fol. 57v [stage direction]).13 In act 2, however, in which the Ark is meant to be still under construction by Noé and his sons, the stage directions refer to business inside it as "dentro," meaning inside the teatro edifice (as opposed to the tablado, where the main action takes place) (fol. 53v [stage direction]). In other words, La Montería itself represents the Ark. The architectural terms the characters use to describe it therefore take on a polysemic quality, as when Cam calls it "aquel edificio," and Serafila describes it as "vaga arquitectura" (fols. 51v and 55v). In some instances, the Ark's descriptions call to mind the theater's location and design. For example, in act 2, the Devil and his followers have entered the Ark and can be heard inside mocking Noé's prophesy of the Flood. Iafet commands them to exit, saying, "Salid de ese puro alcázar" (fol. 54r). Calling the Ark an "alcázar" could remind the audience that they are viewing the play within the walls of the royal palace known by that name. Iafet's wife Serafila similarly refers to the Ark in a way that brings to mind that particular location. She describes it as "espaciosa por el medio, / piramidada por la punta" (fol. 55v). This description of the Ark applies equally well to La Montería, which similarly offered a wide-open space in its middle capped with a pyramidal roof (fig. 2). Just as the Ark provides refuge to Noé's family in the play, La Montería provided an escape for theatergoers from the deluge of everyday life. The applicability of the Ark's descriptions to La Montería reinforces this sense of refuge.
Looking beyond the walls of the Alcázar, a play about Noah's Ark would have uniquely interested Sevillian playgoers. For example, the city's location on the Guadalquivir made it vulnerable to flooding. A 1626 flood, still well within living memory for adults in 1644, "can be considered among the most catastrophic floods" in the city's history, and more minor flooding had occurred in 1633 and 1642 (García-Barrón et al. 19). In the play, the biblical Flood's victims can be seen "subiendo por los montes" to escape the rising water at the end of act 2, undoubtedly a traumatic image for audience members who could remember similar experiences (fol. 57r [stage direction]).
The horror provoked by witnessing a staged flood could have been mitigated by the return of Noé's family at the beginning of act 3. The depiction of a ship arriving safely would have struck a particular chord for the audience in Seville, a major port for sea traffic to and from the American colonies. The two main flotas departed in August and April of each year, and returned in May, June, and July (Wunder 5). The February performance date therefore fell within the off-season for shipping, when, as Sentaurens explains, "una muchedumbre de capitanes, maestres, marinos, pilotos, calafates y soldados de marina, vagabundea por la ciudad, buscando paliativos para su inactividad. Estos ociosos siempre acaban por acrecentar las filas de los espectadores de los corrales" ("Los corrales" 81). A play about Providence's care for a ship and its crew would have been reassuring for members of such a dangerous profession. [End Page 91]
Finally, the work's emphasis on the ante- and postdiluvial diversity of lineages would have had particular resonance in Seville. While Madrid was the political and literary center of Spain, early modern Seville was, in a sense, the center of the world. As the port of entry for ships returning from the Americas, it was not only a commercial center but also a locus of intercultural exchange, bringing together people from around the world into what Carl Wise has termed a "global city" (4). Sevillians regularly encountered people of diverse backgrounds, including the black Africans, mostly enslaved, who made up a tenth of the population there (Tiffany 103). The play depicts a biblical antecedent and origin story for that diversity. Early on, Iafet explains that "Dos linajes hoy habitan / en el mundo," that of Cain, the first murderer, whose descendants were cursed, and that of Seth, whose progeny were charged with maintaining religious rites (fol. 50v). Noé and his family belong to the latter, and it is primarily the Cainites who mock them for building the Ark. After the Flood, the angels bless Set and Iafet's descendants, and curse Cam's. Early modern Spanish intellectuals interpreted this postdiluvian division as part of Spain's origin story, tracing their lineage to Japheth through his son Tubal, believed to be Iberia's first king, while identifying Ham's descendants variously as Jews, Muslims, and—increasingly in the seventeenth century—sub-Saharan Africans, as I explore further in a forthcoming study of race and empire in early modern Spanish Flood narratives. The audience members could not have helped but to reflect on the place that they and the people around them held within this protoracial hierarchy, whether as blessed descendants of Iafet or the cursed progeny of Cam.
As the foregoing analysis of both stage effects and context-specific resonances has demonstrated, El arca de Noé was an ideal selection for Antonio de Rueda's company repertoire at La Montería. Regardless of whether or not the autor de comedias considered all of the factors addressed here, this essay foregrounds the importance of place in approaching early modern theatrical performance. Seventeenth-century Seville possessed a unique cultural environment, as art historians Tiffany and Wunder have shown. According to Wunder, the baroque aesthetic "interacted with Seville's multilayered history, autochthonous building materials, and religious traditions to create a distinctive local variant of the style" (5). In addition, theater historians such as Pineda Novo, Sentaurens, Reyes Peña, and Palacios have documented the unique design and technical capacities of Sevillian theaters. Attending to what is "distinctive" about early modern Seville and its playhouses can open new avenues for comedia scholarship. Given the unique technical capacity, design, and location of La Montería, as well as Seville's special status as the focal point for commercial and cultural exchange in the Spanish Empire, a play performed there must be interpreted differently than if it were performed elsewhere. [End Page 92]
WORKS CITED
NOTES
1. This article is dedicated to the volunteers and staff at the Ronald MacDonald House and Seattle Children's Hospital.
2. Note that I follow Rus Solera López's spelling of Jerónimo de Cancer's surname, which he argues would have been pronounced, like other Aragonese surnames, with the emphasis on the final syllable (XL–XLI). El arca de Noé was first published in 1665 in Parte veinte y dos de comedias nuevas, escogidas de los mejores ingenios de España (see Martínez de Meneses, Rosete Niño, and Cancer). This drama, composed circa 1644, should not be confused—as some scholars have done—with the earlier work El arca de Noé, o el mundo al revés, of unknown authorship but traditionally attributed to Lope de Vega (Valladares Reguero 5–9). Quotations from this and other early modern sources are modernized except where it affects phonetics, sense, or rhyme scheme.
3. Sáez Raposo does, however, provide a more site-specific reading of a later performance of El arca de Noé in the Alcázar de Madrid. This 1675 production, as reflected in its 1757 publication, introduces a more elaborate set design than the 1644 production (267).
4. Based on his study of theater history in Seville, Sentaurens does not believe that La Montería was well suited for comedias de apariencias, noting that the dimensions of its stage were similar to those of traditional corrales (Seville 353–54 n114). The effects that I am analyzing, however, do not necessarily require a larger stage in terms of diameter or depth, but rather, certain types of machinery. As the San Cristóbal riot demonstrates, comedias de apariencias were common enough to create a demand for them.
5. Sáez Raposo suggests that El arca de Noé could have been influenced by Calderón's La torre de Babilonia, performed in 1637, which would provide a baseline for dating the former (256). Javier Rubiera and Alejandro García-Reidy posit a metatheatrical link between El arca de Noé and El mejor representante, San Ginés, also by Martínez de Meneses, Rosete Niño, and Cancer, the latter of which they date to 1641–42 (42–43).
6. Citations of El arca de Noé are to folio numbers from the 1665 princeps, from the Parte 22 of the Comedias escogidas (works cited under Martínez de Meneses, Rosete Niño, and Cancer).
7. Since Sáez Raposo bases his analysis on a traditional corral de comedias, rather than La Montería, he discounts the possibility of pyrotechnics. As a result, his study largely overlooks the stage directions that call for them. The one exception is his explanation of the term "rayo" within an acotación, which he speculates could have been accomplished by unfurling a large awning with a lightning bolt painted on it (260). This solution would have allowed the play to be performed in a traditional corral, but would have been unnecessary in La Montería, where pyrotechnics were common.
8. Here I am using the term tramoya in the more specialized sense to describe a specific type of stage machinery. It can also be used in a broader sense to describe stage effects in general. Laura de Herrera's expense report includes salaries for the costaleros who operated this machinery in the five comedias de tramoyas performed each season at La Montería (qtd. in Sentaurens, Seville 369).
9. Sáez Raposo also posits the use of a pulley operated from the desván de los tornos for this effect (259).
10. Ruano de la Haza cites numerous examples of lions in comedias and concludes, "no hay duda de que en todos estos casos se utilizaron actores cubiertos por una piel de león" (Ruano de la Haza 285–86; see also Sáez Raposo 263–65). It is worth noting that the lion seems to be the only animal depicted on stage in a play about animals: a stage direction reads that Noé "haze que trae los animales," indicating a pantomimed interaction with imaginary animals (fol. 58v [stage direction]).
11. Ruano de la Haza describes a similar effect in Tirso de Molina's Amazonas en las Indias in which Martesia lifts Trigueros by the ear and they both fly. He argues that this would have been accomplished by lifting the actors with a hook pulled upward by the tramoya mechanism (261). Sáez Raposo argues that this effect would have occurred behind the Ark, and therefore largely out of sight of the audience, and that Cam would have been hanging from one of the ramps otherwise used to represent the "monte" (265–66).
12. The early modern accounts that Cómez cites are Diego Ortiz de Zúñiga's Anales ecclesiasticos y seculares (1677) and Fermín Arana de Varflora's Compendio historico descriptivo (1789). A later historian, José Gestoso y Pérez, held that the name came from hunting scenes that were once sculpted on the entryway to the patio (Cómez 25).
13. According to Ruano de la Haza, "Las galeras y barcos que aparecían en el teatro eran representadas probablemente por medio de bastidores pintados, lo suficientemente verosímiles, aunque no necesariamente realistas, como para sugerir una embarcación" (210). He goes on to note that such devices were likely used infrequently (261). Sáez Raposo proposes that a canvas painted with a ship hanging from above the stage could have represented the Ark (262).
Performance History of El arca de Noé, based on data from Martínez Carro (72–73).
Floorplan and exterior drawings of Seville's La Montería theater, 1691. Archivo General de Simancas, MPD, 05, 196. Reprinted with permission the Ministerio de Cultura de España.
