IV

If a performance by puppets deprived 'Salome' of its vulgar grossness by

removing it outside the arena of humanity, so to speak, and by

relegating it to an unreal world beyond the strict diocese of the

conscience, so a performance by puppets of a passion-play or of any

other drama in which the Deity has perforce to appear as a character, is

thereby relieved of any tincture of irreverence. We no longer see a

divine being interpreted by a human being. We cannot help feeling that

all the persons in the play, whether they dwell in heaven or on earth,

are equally remote from our common humanity. And therefore we need not

be surprised when we discover that the marionette has long been allowed

to appear in religious drama. Indeed, it appears probable that the very

name _marionette_ is directly derived from the name of the Virgin.

Very early in the history of the Christian Church were the puppets

permitted to perform passion-plays and little dramas derived from the

stories contained both in the New and the Old Testaments. In England

under Elizabeth and James religious puppet-shows of this kind went

wandering about the kingdom, taking into the smallest villages an

entertainment which would afford to the rural inhabitants the same kind

of pleasant instruction which the dwellers in the larger towns had in

the more elaborate and long-drawn mysteries performed by the

trade-guilds on the Corpus Christi day. That masterly rogue Autolycus in

the 'Winter's Tale' tells us that in his time he had been on the road

with "a motion of the Prodigal Son"--and a _motion_ was the Elizabethan

term for a marionette-exhibition. In like manner one of the characters

in Ben Jonson's 'Every Man out of His Humor' speaks of "a new motion of

the city of Nineveh, with Jonas and the whale." Of course, the puppet

performers, like the grown-up actors, did not long confine themselves to

sacred themes; they ventured also into contemporary history. A puppet

showman who appears in Ben Jonson's 'Bartholomew Fair' tells us that a

certain motion setting forth the mysterious Gunpowder Plot, was "a

get-penny."

Story described one puppet-play which he saw in a little village on the

main road from Rome to Naples, and which had for its central figure

Judas Iscariot. But here again his attitude is unsympathetic, perhaps

because the performance was clumsy. "The kiss of Judas, when, after

sliding along the stage, he suddenly turned with a sidelong jerk and

rapped the other wooden puppet's head with his own, as well as the

subsequent scene in which he goes out and hangs himself, beggar

description." Yet the expatriated American spectator honestly recorded

that the Italian spectators "looked and listened with great gravity,

seemed to be highly edified, and certainly showed no signs of seeing

anything ludicrous in the performance." We may venture the suggestion

that even the sophisticated sculptor-poet himself would have seen

nothing ludicrous in this performance if the operator of Judas had been

as skilful as the operator of Salome in Holden's marionettes.

[Illustration: A Neapolitan Punchinella

From "By Italian Seas," by Ernest C. Peixotto]

A few years ago in Paris one of the younger poets wrote a passion-play

which was performed during Lent by a company of dolls, designed and

dressed in fit and appropriate costumes by an artist friend familiar

with the manners and customs of the Holy Land. While the wires were

managed by expert hands, the words of the dialog were spoken by the poet

himself, and by two or three other poets who came to his aid. This must

have been a seemly spectacle, and it won careful consideration from more

than one of the most eminent dramatic critics of France. Here we may

find a useful suggestion for those who wish to see certain plays by

modern dramatic poets, in which the Deity is a necessary

character--Rostand's 'Samaritaine,' for one, and Hauptmann's 'Hannele,'

for another. Many of the devout have a natural repugnance to any

performance on the stage (with its materialistic environment and its

often sordid conditions) which calls for the impersonation of a divine

being by an actor of ordinary flesh and blood. Yet if these same plays

were reverently performed by marionettes the aroma of irreverence would

be removed. It might even be possible to reproduce in the puppet-show

not a little of the solemn religious effect which is felt by all

visitors to the passion-play at Oberammergau.

(1912.)

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