SOURCE: "The Great Theatre of the World: Alejo Carpentier and Los Pasos Perdidos," in Crítica Hispánica, Vol. VIII, No. 1, 1986, pp. 61-71.

[In the following essay, Natella discusses the concept of "theatrum mundi," or "the idea that life is a stage and we are all its actors," as it applies to Carpentier's Los pasos perdidos.]

Alejo Carpentier's famous novel of one man's attempt to retrace his roots back through the jungles of South America, Los pasos perdidos, is a brilliant evocation of the rootlessness of modern man. It is a novel that has received critical acclaim, and has been the subject of careful scrutiny by numerous scholars. Although the central themes of the work have been discussed many times, one of the main, allegorical themes of the novel has yet to receive, to the best of our knowledge, complete study even though it is an important, integral part of the novel and expresses a seminal aspect of the author's basic artistic vision. We refer to the baroque (or neo baroque) concept of the "theatrum mundi," the idea that life is a stage and that we are all its actors.

In an explanatory note at the end of Los pasos perdidos, Alejo Carpentier makes significant comment on the important characters of the jungle episodes of his novel. He states that he sees them as characters in a great drama: "El Adelantado, Montsalvatje, Marcos, Fray Pedro, son los personajes que encuentra todo viajero en el gran teatro de la selva." Of course, the reader of the novel, having reached this point, has already realized that these men are archetypal characters representing the generic, human types which first populated the South American continent during the earliest years of Spanish exploration. Yet when Carpentier calls these characters actors in "el gran teatro de la selva," he appears to be suggesting that they may be compared to the symbolic characters of the baroque, "autos sacramentales" of the Golden Age Spain. Indeed Salvador Bueno has already described the dramatically contrapuntal nature of the human types of Los pasos perdidos while Roberto González Echevarria has linked Carpentier's penchant for allegory with the thematic symbolism of the drama of Calderón de la Barca. Nevertheless, criticism so far has largely limited itself to viewing these characters in this light without linking them to the larger theme of the "theatrum mundi" which exists on many other levels of Los pasos perdidos.

Los pasos perdidos begins in the world of drama. In the very first page the protagonist describes his wife's role in a successful play in New York. The opening lines of the novel are extremely significant since they serve to introduce the book's basic theme: "Hacía cuatro años y siete meses que no había vuelto a ver la casa de columnas blancas, con su frontón de ceñudas molduras que le daban una severidad de palacio de justicia, y ahora, ante muebles y trastos colocados en su lugar invariable, tenía la casi penosa sensación de que el tiempo se hubiera revertido."

The passage introduces the central theme of the novel, namely the reversal of chronological time in a discovery of man's cultural roots in the past—a tension between past and present involving a baroque counterplay that is basic to the novel. Yet these opening lines have a double meaning since they refer directly to the protagonist's wife, Ruth, and indirectly to life as a whole. As an actress, Ruth must perform a never ending series of scenes which must be repeated with every performance. In a very real way, this is the novelist's first allegorical depiction of the world as a vast drama, for this "imprisonment" only foreshadows his own Sysphian punishment as an actor in the drama of life condemned to repeat an endless series of meaningless acts. It is for this reason that his description of Ruth's occupation is highly charged with symbolic meaning: here the meaninglessness of life as well as its intrinsic artificiality and falseness are reproduced in miniature within Ruth's world of drama: "Me consternaba pensando en lo dura que se había vuelto, para Ruth, esta prisión de tablas de artificio, con sus puentes volantes, sus telarañas de cordel y árboles de mentira." This punitive concept of the world of drama is further developed by the narrator as he views his wife as a veritable prisoner, "Así, para Ruth, lejos de ser una puerta abierta sobre el vasto mundo del Drama—un medio de evasión—este teatro era la Isla del Diablo." It is only as the first chapter continues to develop that we see that he himself is as much a prisoner as his wife. He also is condemned to repeat a series of meaningless acts. Worst of all, they are false since they betray the deepest part of his being. His words and his actions are mechanically reproduced simply to make the desired effect, for he too is an actor on the stage of life: "Mi esposa se dejaba Ilevar por el automatismo del trabajo impuesto, como yo me dejaba Ilevar por el automatismo de mi oficio."

On another level, Ruth herself is as much actress in real life as she is on the stage. When the narrator sees his wife change her appearance in order to begin her night's work, he notes the transformation that is worked in her, "Ruth se puso de pie, y me vi ante quien dejaba una vez más de ser mi esposa para transformarse en protagonista." This also, however, is a symbolic foreshadowing of the falseness that his wife will bring to their marriage. Indeed both in life and in her theatrical work, Ruth is false. She is nothing but an actress, and truth and fiction combine until it is impossible to distinguish one from the other. This becomes clear to the narrator on his return to the jungle when he notices that, "Mi esposa ha dejado el teatro para interpretar un nuevo papel: el papel de esposa." Playing the role of the dutiful wife, Ruth is more false than she is in the world of legitimate theater: "Y observo a Ruth, ahora,… y me parece que interpreta el mejor papel de su vida." Then married life itself becomes a living theater of falseness and insincerity, "De súbito, el sublime, teatro conyugal de mi esposa se hundia en el ridiculo."

Nevertheless, this vision of the theatrical nature of human relations is only an introduction to a fuller, more general concept of the theatricality of existence as a whole which plays an important yet extremely subtle and complicated role in the basic messages of Los pasos perdidos.

We have seen how the author thematically connects the world of the legitimate theatre with a larger perspective on life as a whole. This, however, is but a foreshadowing of a more basic perception of the artificiality of life which appears in its most central form in his portrayal of the narrator's experiences in the South American jungle. Here the author sets his character among a timeless series of archetypes as he clearly evokes characters and events as being parts of an "autos sacramentales," "estampas" or prints or engravings, complete with generic, symbolic figures such as would be found in medieval and Renaissance church drama. This is true in chapter fifteen of the novel in which the narrator describes his visit to a small, jungle church. It is here that he finds himself called back to an appreciation of ancient mysteries of religion: "Así, rodeados más figuras de aleluya, los viejos santos que aparecen entregados a sus oficios, como si el templo fuese ante todo un taller … Ante el Cristo de madera negra que parecía desangrarse sobre el altar mayor, hallaba la atmósfera de auto sacramental, de misterio, de hagiografía tremebunda." Before this, during his trip leading to the jungle, he sees a series of illuminated scenes that form an essentially theatrical depiction of the elements and generic human types that have constituted Latin American history. Here the narrator is conscious of the essential theatricality of the scene that he is witnessing: "Pero aquellos quince focos, siempre aleteados por los insectos, tenían la función aisladora de las luminarias de retablos, de los reflectores de teatros, mostrando en plena luz las estaciones del sinuoso camino que conducía el Calvario de la Cumbre." The narrator is more direct in depicting his life in the jungle as an interplay of generic, dramatic characters: "Como en los más clásicos teatros, los personajes eran, en este gran escenario presente y real, los tallados en una pieza del Bueno y el Malo, la Esposa Ejemplar o la Amante Fiel … Era evidente que Mouche estaba de más en tal escenario." Nor does he limit himself to viewing this symbolic, allegorical quality of human actions solely in others. In the first chapter, when he confesses his purposeless life to his old mentor, he is conscious of being part of a larger reality: "En el ser que se inscribía dentro del marco barroco del espejo actuaban en este momento el Libertino y el Predicador, que son los personajes primeros de toda alegoría edificante, de toda moralidad ejemplar."

In portraying his characters as timeless archetypes, Carpentier is employing, as he himself says, an age-old baroque device in creating a tension between one thematic extreme and another. On another level, however, this moulding of characters in rigidly defined "theatrical" roles portrays not only the illusory character of life but also one of the novel's main themes—namely the abolition of chronological time, for the basic human archetypes are eternal, and as such, they triumph over the divisory nature of time.

The novel also dwells on the theatrical interaction between nature and man in the jungle, as in the narrator's exclamation, "Por cuanto he pasado por nuevas Pruebas; por cuanto he visto el teatro y fingimiento en todas partes." Yet this fatalistic sense of the theatrical also gives way to a lyrical feeling that all of nature combines in its harmonious parts (as do the actors in a drama) to produce a result that has cosmic significance, "La creación no es algo divertido, y todos lo admiten por instinto, aceptando el papel asignado a cada cual en la vasta tragedia de lo creado…."

This sense of the theatricality of existence involves a delineation of a sense of evolving and eternally repeated roles, both for nature and for man, within the framework of the natural world. Hence the Cuban author continues his description of "la vasta tragedia de lo creado," with the following observations:

Pero es tragedia con unidades de tiempo, de acción y de lugar, donde la misma muerte opera por acción de mandatarios conocidos, cuyos trajes de veneno, de escama, de fuego, de miasmas, se acompañan del rayo y del trueno que siguien usando, en días de ira, los dioses de más larga residencia entre nosotros. A la luz del sol o al calor de la hoguera, los hombres que aquí viven sus destinos se contentan de cosas muy simples, hallando motivo de júbilo en la tibieza de una mañana, una pesca abundante, la lluvia que cae tras la sequía, con explosiones de alegría colectiva, de cantos y de tambores, promovidos por sucesos muy sencillos como fue el de nuestra llegada.

The world of nature with its ancient, dramatic harmonies is reflected in the repetition of traditional events of human life which combine to create scenes from a primitive "drama" complete with songs and collective expressions of a primordial, ancestral dramatic ritual.

This sense of the archetypal theatricality of existence for man and nature becomes explicit in the use of the word "papel," a key word with which the novelist evokes a sense of admiration for the great drama of history and for each man and each society's role in it. Thus he considers life in the jungle in the following terms: "Me preguntaba ya si el papel de estas tierras en la historia humana sería el de hacer posibles, por vez primera ciertas simbiosis de culturas." Yet man himself has his own role in this theatre of life for each individual has his craft and skill which combines with others to form a harmonious whole in the great drama of life itself. The narrator admires this interchanging of social responsibilities in a "primitive" society in which each person's role is clearly defined, "La soberana precisión con que éste flechaba peces en el remanso, la prestancia de coreógrafo con que el otro embocaba la cerbatana … me revelaban la presencia de un ser humano llegado a maestro en la totalidad de oficios propiciados por el teatro de su existencia."

We have seen that music forms part of the drama of natural life in the jungle. As music is composed of the harmonious interchange of notes and instruments of an individual or of an orchestra or chorus, this harmonious interplay of parts can serve as a metaphor for the roles of a drama while at the same time the novelist is conscious of the musical elements of drama, especially those of classical, Greek drama.

Just as the jungle is portrayed as a drama in and of itself, it is also the scene for the correlation of a series of antifonal melodies that intertwine and mingle among themselves as profuse, baroque vegetation in sound. As in a musical theatrical presentation, here in the jungle, "la tormenta se lleva sus últimos rayos, tan pronto como los trajo, cerrando la tremenda sinfonía de su ira con el acorde de un trueno muy rodado y prolongado, y la noche se llena de ranas que cantan su júbilo." Here the protagonist hears, "la ululante antifona de los canes," and the "más universal concierto de ladridos." This is the "sinfonía telúrica" the, "sinfonía que estamos leyendo al revés, de derecha a izquierda, contra la clave de sol, retrociendo hacia los compases del Génesis."

Here the disparate elements of drama in primitive culture—music, poetry and dance, are all components in the narrator's vision of the cosmos. As the protagonist listens he discovers a hidden beauty in the jungle: "He descubierto, de pronto, en un segundo fulgurante que existe una Danza de los Arboles…. Ninguna coreografía humana tiene la euritmia de una rama que se dibuja sobre el cielo…. Un día, los hombres descubrirán un alfabeto en los ojos de las calcedonias, en los pardos terciopelos de la falena, y entonces se sabrá con asombro que cada caracol manchado, era, desde siempre, un poema."

It is significant that Carpentier refers to "coreografía" and "escenografía" when speaking of the musicality of nature. These words, intimately connected with theatrical production, link the world of nature with the planned exactness of human theatricality: "estábamos en un lugar cuyos elementos componían una de esas escenografías inolvidables que el hombre encuentra muy pocas veces en su camino." The term appears again in a similar context: "me resultaban tan desconcertante y nuevo como los árboles enormes que comenzaban a cerrar las orillas y qúe, reunidos por grupos en las entradas de los caños, se pintaban sobre el poniente…. Yo identificaba los elementos de la escenografía, ciertamente."

In its fullest, most profound sense, this uniting of music and drama leads to the answer of the narrator's basic question about the true origins of music. Here it arises, (as the narrator will later learn) not from the imitation of natural sounds, as he had thought, but rather from the basic cries of nature which mix with the primordial expressions of human instinct to form elemental musical structures. Thus does the narrator realize (perhaps instinctively) the truth of Nietzsche's assertion in The Birth of Tragedy that drama, particularly tragedy, rose out of musical expression and is intrinsically linked to it. This is found to be true in Los pasos perdidos as scenes of the novel show us how music does indeed rise out of instinctive cries and shouts that express basic human needs. Just as Nietzsche has shown how drama arose from the spontaneous shouts of joy of the Dionysian revelers, the protagonist hears the cries of anguish at a native funeral where "Las mujeres rezaban en antifona en los dormitorios." Here he observes a primitive rite that links the past to the present: "Impresionado por la violencia de ese dolor, pensé, de pronto, en la tragedia antigua…. Frente al cadáver, esas campesinas clamaban en diapasón de coéforas, soltando sus cabelleras espesas, como velos negros. La persistencia de esa desesperación, el admirable sentido dramático con las nueve hermanas—pues eran nueve—fueron apareciendo por puerta derecha y puerta izquierda, preparando la entrada de una Madre que fue Hécuba portentosa, maldiciendo su soledad, sollozando sobre las ruinas de su casa, gritando que no tenía Dios, me hicieron sospechar que había bastante teatro en todo ello."

This significant passage clearly highlights many of the previously mentioned concepts of the "theatrum mundi," for the narrator perceives a true Greek tragedy as nine sisters group themselves as members of a classical chorus chanting over the death of a loved one. The reference to "aullantes troyanas," and "Hécuba Portentosa" are significant and thematically important. On another level, however, this is a "rito milenario" for as the narrator wisely says, "Pudieran sonreir algunos ante la tragedia que aquí se representaba. Pero, a través de ella, se alcanzaban los ritos primeros del hombre." Here in the jungle, man still performs age old rites and ceremonies, and Carpentier (in true baroque fashion) charges the word "tregedia" with a double meaning both as a tragedy in the death of a loved one and as the novelistic construction of a modern-day Greek tragedy complete with its own chorus. Here the protagonist feels that in the drama of existence there is a timeless uniting of past and present that gives meaning and substance to life.

A basic component of the baroque is a sense of contrived artifice. Inherent in this vision of life is a perception of reality as deceptive and illusory. Within Alejo Carpentier's novel there are often layers of reality, one hidden within another which are frequently not seen for what they are since ultimate reality is hidden under a false front or mask. Indeed the jungle itself is seen by Carpentier's narrator as a world of illusion and deception, a baroque profusion of forms where there is an "eterno barajarse de las apariencias y los simulacros, en esa barroca proliferación de lianas." The jungle, in a sense, wears a mask as does a character in a classical drama. Although it is true that the author refers to "el gran teatro de la selva" as a part of the great theatre of existence, he is more specific in delineating the jungle as a place of lies and illusion. Here reality is masked in a singular fashion: "Aquí todo parecía otra cosa, creándose un mundo de apariencias que ocultaba la realidad…. La selva era el mundo de la mentira … allí todo era disfraz, estratagema, juego de apariencias…. Entre dos aguas se mecían grandes hojas agujereadas, semejantes a antifaces de terciopelo ocre…."

It is in this context that masks or "máscaras" and "disfraces" become symbols of the illusory character of life itself. This theme of mask-illusion begins during the first chapter of the novel while the narrator is living in New York. He comments significantly on his inability to sleep without a face mask, "Bebía y me holgaba de espaldas a los relojes, hasta que lo bebido y holgado me derribara el pie de un despertador, con un sueño que yo trataba de espesar poniendo sobre mis ojos un antifaz negro que debía dejarme dormido, un aire de Fantomas al descanso…." Far more, however, than being simply a mask for sleeping, this face mask is the apparatus which ties him to the false reality of clocks and other machines; it is the symbolic representation of the artificiality of existence in the modern world. It is significant, then, that only in the natural world of South America can the narrator sleep without such a mask, "Y fue ésa la primera noche, en mucho tiempo, que dio descanso sin antifaz ni drogas." Here the narrator finds his true self as he once again comes to accept a harmonious existence in tune with the rhythms of nature. In other instances, masks appear to characterize various persons as belonging to the greater drama of life. So it is that the Adelantado is he who, "escucha con cazurra máscara, arrojando ramillas a la lumbre." This is also true when the narrator witnesses the turmoil of a Latin American revolution. Here the drama of life is metaphoric as each character assumes his mask, thus producing, in the words of Carpentier a theatrical scene making the whole episode smack of the unreal: "Con las máscaras antifases colgadas aún debajo de la barbilla … parecía que sobre ellos se hubieran fijado, en coladas, borrones y pringues, las más negras exudaciones de la tierra…. Allí se producía un golpe de teatro … habían aparecido mujeres en trajes de baile, con zapato de tacón y muchas luces en pelo y cuello … me pareció alucinante."

If the jungle is the world of artifice and illusion, the narrator finds on leaving it that his own human relations are equally illusory. As we have seen, the narrator returns to his wife and to his home only to find once again that his role as husband is an artificial one, for his wife, far from being sincere in her marital relations, is only acting out her part. She too wears a mask that hides her true identity from others as well as from herself. The narrator realizes that there is often little difference between the roles performed on the legitimate stage and the social roles adopted in life. In both instances a character adopts a "mask" which hides his true identity, his true intentions. He learns that the essential mask behind which true reality lies is as deceptive here as it was in the jungle and so he speaks of Ruth observing that, "su cara parecía hecha de la materia yesosa de las máscaras trágicas."

In conclusion we may say that the baroque theme of the "theatrum mundi" appears on many diverse levels of this important novel. It is in itself a basic thematic motif which connects with the narrator's attempt to reverse the flow of chronological time in the realization of cultural and historical archetypes which transcend the limitations of temporal existence. Likewise, it is a basic and persistent metaphor of the illusory character of human and natural life. It is part of the baroque disillusionment with life and as such it characterizes man as a victim of a series of shifting realities which taunt and tempt him but which never give him knowledge of the ultimate truth, nor provide him the ultimate satisfaction.