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1. Introduction

Infographic created with AI for educational purposes. (CC BY-NC-ND)

Unsurprisingly, given his personal roots in drama, the world of play rehearsals is reflected in García Lorca’s literature from the very beginning. He was given the opportunity to premier his first work for theatre, El Maleficio de la Mariposa (The Butterfly’s Evil Spell), by Gregorio Martínez Sierra in March 1920. In the event, the play was an unmitigated flop. Yet—in a contradiction worthy of analysis—its failure did not prove damaging to the poet’s personal prestige. Let us recall a paragraph taken from Federico y Su Mundo (Federico and his World) (1980), written by Lorca’s brother Francisco, in which he recalls how the family in Granada took the news of the play’s disastrous opening:           

My father had asked a financier, a great friend of his who lived in Madrid at the time, to send word via telegram of the success or failure of the opening of Federico’s play. My parents, my sisters and I were gathered together in the dining room; and now, bringing it to mind, I remember the modernist touches of that lovely room, with its curved decorative panels of dark wood on the ornate paper covered in big flowers and shiny gold leaves, the carved white marble fireplace, the door (I don´t think I´ve seen another like it, so richly carved), with its birds and monkeys almost leaping out of the wood. After a while, it would be gone one o’clock, the telegram arrived. Don Manuel Conde—which was the name of the friend—had worded it kindly, but it expressed a greater truth than he himself believed, deep down. It said:

The financier friend’s view matched that of Manuel Machado (1920), writer for El Liberal newspaper, who wrote one of the less negative reviews of the performance. Having described the public’s unease and the dramatic failings of the play, which he considered excessively lyrical for the insufficient theatrical impact of its characters, he states: “The writing of beautiful verse is the highest form of art. And Mr. García Lorca comes close to that ideal.”

Connoisseurs of literature did not doubt the level of lyrical quality of García Lorca, and that was important for the young newcomer to Madrid. But there was another reason why the author need not feel demoralised by the jeering, the jokes, the bad newspaper reviews, and the withdrawal of the play after only its second performance. As his brother and his friends recall, he took the news calmly and even joined in the laughing and joking. Mora Guarnido (1958) recalled the moments following the opening night:

Once the curtain came down, we fulfilled the second part of the promise, which was to get together to celebrate whatever happened, at the Granja El Henar. We rinconcillistas met up with a group of about fifty people; and the aroma and sweet taste of hot chocolate, Madrid’s sacred midnight ritual, took the edge off any bitterness (if indeed anyone felt it) about a predictable failure. We concentrated on commenting on the different episodes of the opening and celebrating them. And with each story he heard, Federico joined in the general feeling of delight and laughter. One voice in particular, which seemed out of place and unkind at the time—though looking back I think it was prophetic, if not impertinent—proclaimed:

“It is not Federico who has failed, but El Maleficio de don Gregorio. (page 130)

Mi padre había encargado a un financiero, gran amigo suyo, por entonces en Madrid, que comunicara telegráficamente el éxito o el fracaso del primer estreno de Federico. Mis padres, mis hermanas y yo estábamos congregados en el comedor de la casa, y ahora, al evocarlo, recuerdo la tonalidad modernista de aquella hermosa habitación, con sus listones ondulantes de madera oscura sobre el rico papel cubierto de grandes flores y brillantes hojas doradas, su labrada chimenea de mármol blanco, su puerta (yo no recuerdo haber visto otra más ricamente tallada), con pájaros y monos, tan de bulto, que estaban casi exentos. Al cabo, sería más de la una, se recibió el telegrama. Don Manuel Conde, que éste era el nombre del amigo, lo había redactado piadosamente, pero expresaba mayor verdad de lo que el amigo creía en el fondo. Decía así: La obra no gustó. Todos coinciden Federico es un gran poeta (266)

Caído el telón, se cumplió religiosamente la segunda parte del compromiso, que consistía en reunirse a celebrar lo que pasara en la Granja El Henar. Allí nos congregamos los rinconcillistas y un grupo de unas cincuenta personas, y el chocolate, esa liturgia medianochesca de Madrid, aromatizó y endulzó las amarguras –si alguno las sintió- de un fracaso previsible… Nos dedicamos a comentar y celebrar los distintos episodios del estreno y Federico, al irse enterando de cada uno, se unía al regocijo y la risa general. Una voz, que pareció entonces discorde y antipática, aunque ahora a la distancia juzgo profética aunque impertinente, proclamó: No ha fracasado Federico, sino el Maleficio de don Gregorio (130).