ROWLAND DIXON AND HIS COMPANY OF PUPPETS.
_Alli se ve tan eficaz el llanto,
las fabulas y historias retratadas,
que parece verdad, y es dulce encanto._
* * * * *
_Y para el vulgo rudo, que ignorante
aborrece el manjar costoso, guisa
el plato del gracioso extravagante;_
_Con que les hartas de contento y risa,
gustando de mirar sayal grossero,
mas que sutil y candida camisa._
JOSEPH ORTIZ DE VILLENA.
Were it not for that happy facility with which the mind in such cases
commonly satisfies itself, my readers would find it not more easy to
place themselves in imagination at Ingleton a hundred years ago, than
at Thebes or Athens, so strange must it appear to them that a family
should have existed in humble but easy circumstances, among whose
articles of consumption neither tea nor sugar had a place, who never
raised potatoes in their garden nor saw them at their table, and who
never wore a cotton garment of any kind.
Equally unlike any thing to which my contemporaries have been
accustomed, must it be for them to hear of an Englishman whose talk
was of philosophy moral or speculative not of politics; who read books
in folio and had never seen a newspaper; nor ever heard of a magazine,
review, or literary journal of any kind. Not less strange must it seem
to them who if they please may travel by steam at the rate of thirty
miles an hour upon the Liverpool and Manchester rail-way, or at ten
miles an hour by stage upon any of the more frequented roads, to
consider the little intercourse which in those days was carried on
between one part of the kingdom and another. During young Daniel's
boyhood, and for many years after he had reached the age of manhood,
the whole carriage of the northern counties, and indeed of all the
remoter parts was performed by pack-horses, the very name of which
would long since have been as obsolete as their use, if it had not
been preserved by the sign or appellation of some of those inns at
which they were accustomed to put up. Rarely indeed were the roads
about Ingleton marked by any other wheels than those of its indigenous
carts.
That little town however obtained considerable celebrity in those days
as being the home and head quarters of Rowland Dixon, the Gesticulator
Maximus, or Puppet-show-master-general, of the North; a person not
less eminent in his line than Powel whom the Spectator has
immortalized.
My readers must not form their notion of Rowland Dixon's company from
the ambulatory puppet shows which of late years have added new sights
and sounds to the spectacles and cries of London. Far be it from me to
depreciate those peripatetic street exhibitions, which you may have
before your window at a call, and by which the hearts of so many
children are continually delighted: Nay I confess that few things in
that great city carry so much comfort to the cockles of my own, as the
well-known voice of Punch.
——the same which in my school-boy days
I listened to,——
as Wordsworth says of the Cuckoo,
And I can listen to it yet—
And listen till I do beget
That golden time again.
It is a voice that seems to be as much in accord with the noise of
towns, and the riotry of fairs, as the note of the Cuckoo, with the
joyousness of spring fields and the fresh verdure of the vernal woods.
But Rowland Dixon's company of puppets would be pitifully disparaged,
if their size, uses or importance were to be estimated by the street
performances of the present day.
The Dramatis Personæ of these modern exhibitions never I believe
comprehends more than four characters, and these four are generally
the same, to wit, Punch, Judy as she who used to be called Joan is now
denominated, the Devil and the Doctor, or sometimes the Constable in
the Doctor's stead. There is therefore as little variety in the action
as in the personages. And their dimensions are such that the whole
company and the theatre in which they are exhibited are carried along
the streets at quick time and with a light step by the two persons who
manage the concern.
But the Rowlandian, Dixonian, or Ingletonian puppets were large as
life; and required for their removal a caravan (in the use to which
that word is now appropriated),—a vehicle of such magnitude and
questionable shape, that if Don Quixote had encountered its like upon
the highway, he would have regarded it as the most formidable
adventure which had ever been presented to his valour. And they went
as far beyond our street-puppets in the sphere of their subjects as
they exceeded them in size; for in that sphere _quicquid agunt
homines_ was included,—and a great deal more.
In no country and in no stage of society has the drama ever existed in
a ruder state than that in which this company presented it. The Drolls
of Bartholomew Fair were hardly so far below the legitimate drama, as
they were above that of Rowland Dixon; for the Drolls were written
compositions: much ribaldry might be, and no doubt was, interpolated
as opportunity allowed or invited; but the main dialogue was prepared.
Here on the contrary, there was no other preparation than that of
frequent practice. The stock pieces were founded upon popular stories
or ballads, such as Fair Rosamond, Jane Shore, and Bateman who hanged
himself for love; with scriptural subjects for Easter and
Whitsun-week, such as the Creation, the Deluge, Susannah and the
Elders, and Nebuchadnezzar or the Fall of Pride. These had been handed
down from the time of the old mysteries and miracle-plays, having, in
the progress of time and change, descended from the monks and clergy
to become the property of such managers as Powel and Rowland Dixon. In
what manner they were represented when thus
Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,
Fallen from their high estate,
may be imagined from a play-bill of Queen Anne's reign, in which one
of them is thus advertised:
“At Crawley's Booth, over against the Crown Tavern in Smithfield,
during the time of Bartholomew Fair, will be presented a little Opera,
called the Old Creation of the World, yet newly revived; with the
addition of Noah's flood. Also several fountains playing water during
the time of the play. The last scene does present Noah and his family
coming out of the Ark, with all the beasts two and two, and all the
fowls of the air seen in a prospect sitting upon trees. Likewise over
the Ark is seen the Sun rising in a most glorious manner. Moreover a
multitude of Angels will be seen in a double rank, which presents a
double prospect, one for the Sun, the other for a palace, where will
be seen six Angels, ringing of bells. Likewise machines descend from
above double and treble, with Dives rising out of Hell, and Lazarus
seen in Abraham's bosom; besides several figures dancing jigs,
sarabands and country dances, to the admiration of the spectators;
with the merry conceits of Squire Punch, and Sir John Spendall.”
I have not found it any where stated at what time these irreverent
representations were discontinued in England, nor whether (which is
not unlikely) they were put an end to by the interference of the
magistrates. The _Autos Sacramentales_, which form the most
characteristic department of the Spanish drama, were prohibited at
Madrid in 1763, at the instance of the Conde de Teba, then Archbishop
of Toledo, chiefly because of the profaneness of the actors, and the
indecency of the places in which they were represented: it seems
therefore that if they had been performed by clerks, and within
consecrated precincts, he would not have objected to them. The
religious dramas, though they are not less extraordinary and far more
reprehensible, because in many instances nothing can be more
pernicious than their direct tendency, were not included in the same
prohibition; the same marks of external reverence not being required
for Saints and Images as for the great object of Romish Idolatry.
These probably will long continue to delight the Spanish people. But
facts of the same kind may be met with nearer home. So recently as the
year 1816, the Sacrifice of Isaac was represented on the stage at
Paris: Samson was the subject of the ballet; the unshorn son of Manoah
delighted the spectators by dancing a solo with the gates of Gaza on
his back; Dalilah clipt him during the intervals of a jig; and the
Philistines surrounded and captured him in a country dance!
That Punch made his appearance in the puppet-show of the Deluge, most
persons know; his exclamation of “hazy weather, master Noah,” having
been preserved by tradition. In all of these wooden dramas whether
sacred or profane, Punch indeed bore a part, and that part is well
described in the verses entitled _Pupæ gesticulantes_, which may be
found among the _Selecta Poemata Anglorum Latina_, edited by Mr.
Popham.
_Ecce tamen subitò, et medio discrimine rerum,
Ridiculus vultu procedit Homuncio, tergum
Cui riget in gibbum, immensusque protruditur alvus:
PUNCHIUS huic nomen, nec erat petulantior unquam
Ullus; quinetiam media inter seria semper
Importunus adest, lepidusque et garrulus usque
Perstat, permiscetque jocos, atque omnia turbat.
Sæpe puellarum densa ad subsellia sese
Convertens,—sedet en! pulchras mea, dixit, amica
Illic inter eas! Oculo simul improbus uno
Connivens, aliquam illarum quasi noverat, ipsam
Quæque pudens se signari pudefacta rubescit;
Totaque subridet juvenumque virumque corona.
Cum vero ambiguis obscœnas turpia dictis
Innuit, effuso testantur gaudia risu._
In one particular only this description is unlike the Punch of the
Ingleton Company. He was not an _homuncio_, but a full grown
personage, who had succeeded with little alteration either of
attributes or appearance to the Vice of the old Mysteries, and served
like the Clown of our own early stage, and the _Gracioso_ of the
Spaniards, to scatter mirth over the serious part of the performance,
or turn it into ridicule. The wife was an appendage of later times,
when it was not thought good for Punch to be alone; and when as these
performances had fallen into lower hands, the quarrels between such a
pair afforded a standing subject equally adapted to the capacity of
the interlocutor and of his audience.
A tragic part was assigned to Punch in one of Rowland Dixon's pieces,
and that one of the most popular, being the celebrated tragedy of Jane
Shore. The Beadle in this piece, after proclaiming in obvious and
opprobrious rhyme the offence which had drawn upon Mistress Shore this
public punishment, prohibited all persons from relieving her on pain
of death, and turned her out, according to the common story, to die of
hunger in the streets. The only person who ventured to disobey this
prohibition was Punch the Baker; and the reader may judge of the
dialogue of these pieces by this Baker's words, when he stole behind
her, and nudging her furtively while he spake, offered her a loaf,
saying, “_tak it Jenny, tak it!_” for which act so little consonant
with his general character, Punch died a martyr to humanity by the
hangman's hands.
Dr. Dove used to say he doubted whether Garrick and Mrs. Cibber could
have affected him more in middle life, than he had been moved by Punch
the Baker and this wooden Jane Shore in his boyhood. For rude as were
these performances, (and nothing could possibly be ruder,) the effect
on infant minds was prodigious, from the accompanying sense of wonder,
an emotion which of all others is at that time of life the most
delightful. Here was miracle in any quantity to be seen for two-pence,
and be believed in for nothing. No matter how confined the theatre,
how coarse and inartificial the scenery, or how miserable the
properties; the mind supplied all that was wanting.
“Mr. Guy,” said young Daniel to the schoolmaster, after one of these
performances, “I wish Rowland Dixon could perform one of our Latin
dialogues!”
“Aye Daniel,” replied the schoolmaster, entering into the boy's
feelings; “it would be a grand thing to have the Three Fatal Sisters
introduced, and to have them send for Death; and then for Death to
summon the Pope and jugulate him; and invite the Emperor and the King
to dance; and disarm the soldier, and pass sentence upon the Judge;
and stop the Lawyer's tongue; and feel the Physician's pulse; and make
the Cook come to be killed; and send the Poet to the shades; and give
the Drunkard his last draught. And then to have Rhadamanthus come in
and try them all! Methinks Daniel that would beat Jane Shore and Fair
Rosamond all to nothing, and would be as good as a sermon to boot.”
“I believe it would indeed!” said the Boy: “and then to see MORS and
NATURA; and have DAMNATUS called up; and the Three Cacodæmons at
supper upon the sirloin of a King, and the roasted Doctor of Divinity,
and the cruel Schoolmaster's rump! Would not it be nice Mr. Guy?”
“The pity is, Daniel,” replied Guy, “that Rowland Dixon is no Latiner,
any more than those who go to see his performances.”
“But could not you put it into English for him, Mr. Guy?”
“I am afraid Daniel, Rowland Dixon would not thank me for my pains.
Besides I could never make it sound half so noble in English as in
those grand Latin verses, which fill the mouth and the ears, and the
mind,—aye and the heart and soul too. No, boy! schools are the proper
places for representing such pieces, and if I had but Latiners enough
we would have them ourselves. But there are not many houses, my good
Daniel, in which learning is held in such esteem as it is at thy
father's; if there were, I should have more Latin scholars;—and what
is of far more consequence, the world would be wiser and better than
it is!”