I
An American; improving on a suggestion of a Frenchman, has declared that
"language was given to man to conceal his thoughts--and to woman to
express her emotions." Unfortunately, language is so often inexact that
even when it is sufficient to express emotion, it is not precise enough
even to conceal thought. Sometimes a term is wholly devoid of truth, as
when we call a certain solid a "lead-pencil," which contains no lead,
and when we label a certain liquid "soda-water," which contains no soda.
Sometimes the term is so vague that it may mean all things to all men.
Who, for example, would be bold enough to insist on his own definition
of "romanticism"? Sometimes again the term covers two or three things
which demand a sharper differentiation. This is the case with the
compound word "shadow-pantomime." It is the only name for three distinct
things.
First, there is the representation by the dark profile of the human hand
upon a wall or a screen, of human heads, and of animal figures, either
by an adroit arrangement of the fingers alone, or by the aid of adjusted
shapes of cardboard, so as to suggest a hat on the head and a pipe in
the mouth and other needed accessories; this primitive entertainment is
sometimes styled "shadowgraphy."
Second, there is the full-sized silhouette of a human figure, due to the
shadow cast by the body standing before a lamp, and magnified or
diminished as it approaches or recedes the spectators. This is the
familiar parlor amusement which Sir James Barrie cleverly utilized with
dramatic effect in the final act of his 'Professor's Love-Story,' when
one of the characters, standing outside a house, sees the black profiles
of other characters projected clearly on the drawn shade of the window
before which he is placed.
Then, thirdly, there is the true shadow-pantomime, called by the French
"Chinese shadows," _ombres chinoises_, in which the tiny figures, made
either of flat cardboard or of metal, are exhibited behind a translucent
screen and before a strong light. This is by far the most interesting
and the most important of the three widely different kinds of
semi-dramatic entertainment, often carelessly confounded together even
in the special treatises devoted to this humble art. In France these
Chinese shadows have been popular for more than a hundred years, since
it was in the eighteenth century that the performer who took the name of
Seraphin established his little theater and won the favor of the younger
members of the royal family by his presentation of the alluring
spectacle, the rudimentary little piece, still popular with children,
and still known by its original title, the 'Broken Bridge.'
It may not be fanciful to infer that the immediate suggestion for this
spectacle was derived from the contemporary vogue of the silhouette
itself, this portrait in solid black taking its name from the Frenchman
who was minister of finance in 1759. At all events, it was in 1770 that
Seraphin began to amuse the children of Paris; and it was more than a
century thereafter that M. Lemercier de Neuville elaborated his
ingeniously articulated _Pupazzi noirs_. It was a little later still
that Caran d'Ache delighted the more sophisticated children of a larger
growth, who were wont to assemble at the Chat Noir, with the striking
series of military silhouettes resuscitating the mighty Napoleonic epic.
And it was at the Chat Noir again that Riviere revealed the further
possibilities latent in shadow-pantomime, and to be developed by the aid
of colored backgrounds supplied by a magic lantern. Restricted as the
sphere of the shadow-pantomime necessarily is, the native artistic
impulse of the French has been rarely better disclosed than by their
surprising elaboration of a form of amusement, seemingly fitted only to
charm the infant mind, into an entertainment satisfactory to the richly
developed esthetic sense of mature Parisian playgoers. Just as the
rustic revels of remote villagers contained the germ out of which the
Greeks were able to develop their austere and elevating tragedy, and
just as the modern drama was evolved in the course of centuries out of
the medieval mysteries, one source of which we may discover in the
infant Christ in the cradle still displayed at Christmastide in
Christian churches thruout the world, so the simple Chinese shadows of
Seraphin supplied the root on which Parisian artists were able to graft
their ingenious improvements.
The little spectacle proffered originally by Seraphin was frankly
infantile in its appeal, and the 'Broken Bridge' is as plainly adjusted
to the simple likings of the child as is the lamentable tragedy of Punch
and Judy or the puppet-show in which Polichinelle exhibits his hump and
his terpsichorean agility. The two arms of the broken bridge arch over a
little stream but fail to meet in the center. A flock of ducks crosses
leisurely from one bank to the other. A laborer appears on the left-hand
fragment of the bridge and begins to swing his pick to loosen stones at
the end, and these fragments are then seen to fall into the water. The
figure of the workman is articulated, or at least one arm is on a
separate piece and moves on a pivot so that a hidden string can raise
the pick and let it fall. The laborer sings at his work; and in France
he indulges in the traditional lyric about the Bridge of Avignon, where
everybody dances in a circle. Then a traveler appears on the right-hand
end of the bridge. He hails the laborer, who is hard of hearing at
first, but who finally asks him what he wants. The traveler explains
that he wishes to cross and asks how he can do this. The laborer keeps
on picking away, and sings that "the ducks and the geese they all swim
over." The irritated traveler then asks how far it is across, and the
laborer again sings, this time to the effect that "when you're in the
middle you're half-way over." Then the traveler inquires how deep the
stream may be, and he gets the exasperating response in song, that if
he will only throw in a stone, he'll soon find the bottom. This dialog
bears an obvious resemblance to that traditionally associated with the
tune of the 'Arkansaw Traveler.'
[Illustration: The broken bridge]
[Illustration: _Reproduced by permission of Hachette & Co., Paris_
Plan showing the construction of a shadow-picture theater]
[Illustration: A Hungarian dancer. This explains the mechanism of the
shadow picture opposite
A Hungarian dancer
From a shadow picture by Lemercier de Neuville]
Then a boatman appears, rowing his little skiff, his backbone pivoted so
that his body can move to and fro. The traveler makes a bargain with him
and is taken across, after many misadventures, one of them with a
crocodile, which opens its jaws and threatens to engulf the boat--this
amphibious beast having been a recent addition to the original playlet,
and probably borrowed from the Green Monster not long ago added to the
group of Punch and Judy figures. And the exciting conclusion of this
entrancing spectacle displays a most moral application of the principle
of poetic justice. The ill-natured laborer advances too far out on his
edge of the broken bridge, and detaches a large fragment. As this
tumbles into the water he loses his footing and falls forward himself,
only to be instantly devoured by the crocodile, which disappears with
its unexpected prey, whereupon the placid ducks and geese again swim
over--and the curtain falls.