peacefully to enjoy the fortune which he had amassed. He bought a
feudal estate near Paris, and died there a very short time after having
acquired it. There are two versions of the manner of his death: one has
it that he succumbed in a drinking bout, the result of a tavern wager;
the other that he was killed whilst hunting. The fact is reported in
a book entitled _Parlement nouveau, ou centurie interlinaire de devis
facétieusement sérieux et sérieusement facétieux_, by Daniel Martin,
1637, from which the following is an interesting passage on the subject:—
“Could you tell me the reason why the name of charlatan is
given to all vendors of theriacs, distillers, tooth-drawers,
vendors of powdered serpents, of unguents and balsams in the
market places, of comedians on a table, bench or scaffold.
“Indeed, sirs, this word charlatan means a man who by fine
words sells bad merchandise; a cajoler such as was seen in
Paris in the year 1623, in a man named Tabarin and an Italian
named Mondor, who, having set up a scaffold in l’Isle du
Palais, assembled the people by the music of their violins
and the farces which they played, whereafter they set about
praising their drugs, and said so much good of them that
the silly and stupid folk, believing them capable of curing
all ills, would strive with one another as to who should
be the first to throw his money knotted in the corner of a
handkerchief or in a glove on to the scaffold so as to obtain a
little box of unguent wrapped in a printed bill, setting forth
the virtues of it and the manner of using it.
“I have been told that this buffoon became in a few years so
rich with the money of fools that he bought a lordship near
Paris, which, however, he did not very long enjoy.
“Why so?
“Because his neighbours, who were gentlemen of good and ancient
houses, being unable to endure for their companion a pantaloon,
a fool who with his hat metamorphosed into a thousand shapes
had made so many others laugh, killed him one day while
hunting, it is said.
“His master had not sufficiently impressed upon him a proverb
of his native land: ‘_A cader va chi troppo sale._’”
“Tabarin had a tragic end,” says M. de Saint-Victor. “His
trestles had enriched him; the jests which throughout ten
years he had flung to the crowd had come back to him in a
shower of doubloons. Pride tempted him. He purchased a feudal
estate and set up there as a lord. The gentlefolk thereabouts,
indignant of such a neighbour, killed the buffoon one day at
the hunt, as though he had been a hare. _Poor Yorick!_”
Mondor and Tabarin had several competitors, amongst whom were the Sieur
Hieronimo and his comedian _Galinette la Galina_; and Desiderio de Combes
and his servant _Grattelard_, who set up their theatre at the entrance
to the Pont Neuf. Desiderio was ugly and misshapen, and his jests were
ponderous.
“As for Combes, he is coarse and rustic, he cannot read or
write or speak, and the little audience accorded him accounts
him what he is, an ignorant charlatan, and the most brazen liar
that ever mounted a bench.”
The populace admired Tabarin, who possessed in so high a degree the
genius of farce, whilst people of condition were no less amused by him.
It is conceived that some habitués of his entertainment, observing the
attention which he excited, had the idea to collect his farces and
impromptu jests. But they did not disclose themselves.
One only, a certain Guillaume, has issued from obscurity.
“There are five or six rascals” (it is Hortensius who speaks,
in the _Vraye histoire comique de Francion_, 1668) “who earn
their living by writing romances; and there was even a college
scout, who was in the service of the Jesuits after me, who
amused himself by spoiling paper. His first attempt was a
_Collection of Tabarinic Farces_ ... a book so successful that
twenty thousand copies were sold, whilst it is impossible to
sell six hundred of a worthy work.... The name of this scout
was Guillaume.... He contrived to get some other works printed.
But all his books are fit for nothing but to wrap up pounds of
butter.”
So that _The Complete Works of Tabarin_ did not contain a single line
written by Tabarin or by Mondor, whose entire repertory was improvised;
nevertheless, they were collected from the inspirations of Tabarin.
Neither the comedians of the Hôtel de Bourgogne nor Gaultier-Garguille
assisted by Gros-Guillaume and Dame Perrine, who played the most famous
farces that one could desire, were able, for the five sous which they
charged each spectator, to afford their audiences the amusement and
laughter afforded by Tabarin alone, gratis and with only his hat. For be
it noted that his was a master hat which assumed all conceivable shapes;
it was a veritable first matter, _indifferens ad omnes formas_. It was
the chief property of an entire shop, the very foundation stone of his
theatre.
“This venerable and wonderful grey felt came to Tabarin in
direct succession from Saturn. This god was the first to wear
it, not as wide as it is now, but in a lengthened shape. He
wore it when he came to Italy, fleeing before the choler of
Jupiter, and gave it then its pointed shape that he might
disguise himself. Until then there had been no hats but round
ones like that of Mercury. It was from that time forward that
pointed hats were worn in the Spanish fashion. Saturn presented
it to _Tabaron_, an ancestor of Tabarin’s, who until then had
gone bareheaded. He was glad to find this expedient to protect
him from the heat of the sun; it was from this felt hat the
invention of the parasol was derived. This hat was handed down
from father to son with respect and reverence like a holy
reliquary, in memory of Saturn who wore it on weekdays. But
some member or other of the Tabarinian race, through negligence
or absent-mindedness, permitted it to be lost. It was found
and carried to Jupiter, who, unable to conceive of a better
present for his Mercury, gave it to him as becoming the only
god who wore a hat. Mercury, vain and foolish, had its shape
altered, transformed it into a pyramid and attached wings to
it. Unfortunately, however, on the first occasion that he wore
it, upon taking flight from heaven, the wind got inside it and
it was lost. It is said that he would never afterwards wear a
high-crowned hat. Janus, who, we are told, was living at that
time, was so glad to find it that he put it on, but, having
two faces and an enormous head, he so deformed it that it
became then as wide as it is now on the head of Tabarin. Janus
concealed it under Mount Aventine. Romulus discovered it in
the course of building Rome, and it was long preserved at the
Capitol. It never issued thence but to figure in the triumphs
of the emperors, when they entered Rome laden with spoils and
trophies. The high priests were charged with the care of this
precious hat, but a member of the Tabarinic race secretly
abstracted it, and it was transmitted again from male to male
through the Tabarin family. At the time of the expedition of
François I. into Italy, the grandfather of the grandfather of
Tabarin gave it to a French soldier who was returning home.
Desiring to buy a drug which was a sure cure for an ill with
which he was afflicted, and having nothing with which to pay
for it but this hat, the soldier exchanged it for a medicine
to an apothecary of the Place Maubert, who made use of it for
filtering honey.
“Tabarin, upon his arrival in Paris, recognised this hat which
had been held in such high esteem by his family. Indignant
to discover the use that was being made of the head-gear of
Saturn, he repurchased it, and if he is the last to own it he
can boast that he is the first to have invented how to give
it new shapes. With this lunatic and fantastic hat he can
represent all manner of hats, and present himself to the eyes
of the admiring crowd now as a soldier, now as a courtier, now
as a coal-heaver, now as a Dutchman, now as a bear-leader, now
as a slinger, now as a servant lately from the wars, etc.
“In brief, Tabarin’s hat, assisted by him who bore it, has
caused more people to laugh in one day than ever the comedians
of the Hôtel de Bourgogne were able to do with their comedies,
tragi-comedies and pastorals.”
The farces of Tabarin are the source of all the trestle repertories of
yesterday.
“It is rare to find a pearl amongst these” (says M. Paul de
Saint-Victor), “but on the other hand there is no lack of
salt. One is overcome with surprise when prowling through this
rubbish-heap to come suddenly nose to nose with Molière or La
Fontaine. Here a scene of Poquelin, there an apologue from the
Bonhomme have been taken from the farces of Tabarin as a pearl
is taken from the oyster. The sack in which Scapin encloses
Géronte plays its part in three or four of the farces of the
booth on the Pont Neuf.”
Tabarin proposes to his master a burlesque question; his master proceeds
to resolve it by a doctoral explanation which Tabarin interrupts with his
foolery.
_Question: How to make fifty pairs of shoes in half-an-hour_
TABARIN. It is a great secret. I do not think there is any man
in the world who has ever put this invention into practice.
THE MASTER. In truth, Tabarin, the solution of this secret
must be very ardently sought. It is one of the most clever
inventions seen for a very long time. As for me I am
constrained to acknowledge my ignorance save that to arrive at
this end I should take a hundred cobblers and I should entrust
to each the making of one shoe; then I think that in a very
short while I should arrive at what is desired.
TABARIN. That is not what I mean. I mean one man who alone,
in less than half-an-hour, should make fifty pairs of shoes.
There is nothing easier. You will yourself confess when you
shall have learned the secret that it is one of the finest
conceivable; cobblers should be able to extract great profit
from it. To begin with you must take fifty pairs of new boots
(if you desire that your shoes shall be new), and cut them all
equally across along the line of the ankle; by this means,
instead of fifty pairs of boots which we had before you will
find in less than half-an-hour fifty pairs of shoes ready made.
Is it not a fine invention?
_Who are those who desire to be one-eyed?_
TABARIN. My master, the other day I heard a certain fellow say
that he would give a hundred crowns to be one-eyed. Who are
those that may be considered entitled to express such a wish?
THE MASTER. A man must be quite beside himself to have so
great a cupidity in his soul. Sight is one of the first organs
of the body, and the most delicate part of it, being of an
incredible and admirable construction, in which the Author of
the Universe has enclosed all that is rarest and most excellent
in this world; for whether we consider the two pairs of nerves
which have their sources in the brain, and by which sight is
conducted, one of them being stronger to supply movement, the
other more delicate to supply sight; or whether we consider
the crystalline humour that is in the centre of the eye,
and its enveloping tunic which resembles a spider’s web, or
the other two humours that surround it and in which the eye
seems to swim; if afterwards we come to the consideration and
contemplation of the admirable retina and the films which
surround the whole body of the eye, the muscles which raise and
lower the eyelids, and all the artifice employed by Nature in
this admirable construction, we shall conclude that a man is
highly imprudent to desire the inestimable loss of the finest
part of him.
TABARIN. The men who desire to be one-eyed are the blind. If
you do not believe me go to the monastery of the Quinze-Vingts,
and I can assure you that you will not find there a single one
who would not be delighted to _see_ you hanged.
_Who are those who deride doctors and apothecaries?_
TABARIN. In your opinion, who are those who deride doctors and
apothecaries?
THE MASTER. Some very ill-advised people who, believing that
they will never need their services, deride their recipes;
they are people of nothing, ignorant of the fact that medicine
is an entirely celestial and divine art, which restores and
reintegrates Nature in her perfection and her apogee. Medicine
is the science of natural sciences, and ignorant are those who
despise it.
_Altissimus de coelo creavit medicinam, et vir prudens non
abhorrebit eam._
TABARIN. I said the same thing lately to a tailor who was
making me a pair of breeches: _Homerus et vir prudens non
abhorrebet eam._
THE MASTER. For my part I think that those who malign doctors
are the ignorant, and such folk as think never to need their
assistance.
TABARIN. You are wrong, for those who mock them are those who
most desire their aid, the people who are ill.
THE MASTER. The people who are ill, Tabarin! How can it happen
that a patient should mock a doctor, since he is so sorely in
need of one?
TABARIN. Is it not a piece of mockery to put out your tongue
half-a-foot to him who comes to visit you?
THE MASTER. Indeed to put out the tongue is a sign of derision.
TABARIN. Very well, when a doctor goes to see a patient to
ascertain his ailment, the sick man always puts out his tongue
at him. That is pure mockery.
_Dialogue between Mondor and Tabarin_
TABARIN. My master, let us consider things for once: it is high
time that I should become the master. I have been the servant
far too long.
THE MASTER. Get along, you rascal, you gallows bird! Do you
want to become the master, scullion that you are? You want to
give me orders, do you? And what then am I to become? Your
servant? Really, it would be a fine sight!
TABARIN. Yes, indeed, I should be a fine sight. Am I not as
much a man as you, and as great a master?
THE MASTER. What is one to say to a man who is persuaded of
something, and who gets some insolent notion into his mind?
Come here, rogue; who keeps you? who nourishes you? who
supplies you with all your necessaries?
TABARIN. It was but wanting that you should boast of feeding
me! A fine master you! When I came to see you, you made an
agreement with me, and you promised to dress me and to nourish
me. The devil take me if you’ve observed the hundredth part of
that! Every time that I have risen I have been compelled to
dress myself. When it was necessary to dine, did you feed me?
I have been constrained myself to go to the trouble of putting
my fingers in the dish and carrying them to my mouth. I have
endured far too much at your hands, but henceforward I shall
teach you what it means to be master.
THE MASTER. Is your brain so troubled and your judgment so
distorted that you do not know that I am your master?
TABARIN. Not at all, I maintain that I am as great a master as
you. Tell me, pray, how you can distinguish between master and
servant?
THE MASTER. It is easy to recognise the one from the other,
whether at rising or going to bed or even in the street: the
master always goes ahead.
TABARIN. I have got you. Now listen. You say that the master is
always to be recognised because he walks ahead; tell me now,
every time you go to sup in town and that you return after dark
by torchlight, which of us two walks ahead?
THE MASTER. It is you, Tabarin, since bearing the torch it is
your duty to light my way.
TABARIN. It follows then that I am the master, for I walk
ahead. Oh! the fine lackey that follows me then!
_The most daring animal_
TABARIN. Since you have some slight knowledge of the nature
of animals, will you kindly tell me which is the most daring
animal, and which the most generous?
THE MASTER. That is a matter beyond all doubt, Tabarin; it
is the lion; for just as he is the most furious of all so is
he the most daring. The daring and generosity of anything is
to be recognised by the heights of the enterprises which it
undertakes. Now among all species of animals, of which the
number is almost infinite, there is none that shows so great
generosity and daring as the lion. He is equipped with a male
courage which distinguishes all his actions. There is no other
beast, however furious it may be, that dares to stand before
his face. In short, to be brief, he is the most daring of all
animals.
TABARIN. You are wrong, my master. I do not go so far as to
say that you are lying, but it really amounts to no less. The
most daring animal on earth is the miller’s donkey, my master,
because every day of his life he is amid robbers and knows no
fear.
A collection attributed to Tabarin is entitled: “Jardin, récueil, trésor,
_abrégé de secrets, jeux, facéties, gausseries, passe-tems_, compozéz,
fabriquéz, experimentéz, et mis en lumière par votre serviteur Tabarin de
_Valburlesque_, à plaisirs et contentements des esprits curieux.”
Here are some brief extracts from it:
_To contrive that all those who are at a ball or other assembly
shall sneeze at once_
Take spurge, pirètre and white hellebore, in equal quantities
of each. Reduce the whole to finest powder and blow it through
a quill about the room where people are assembled and watch the
result.
_To contrive that meat brought to table shall seem full of
worms_
Take a lute cord, cut it into little pieces and put these upon
the meat while it is still hot, and the heat will set these
pieces jumping and moving as if they were worms.
This is followed by several jests and secrets to amuse the company, such
as:
“Recipe to prevent a pot from boiling.”
“How to make an egg run through the room without anyone
touching it.”
“How to kill and pluck a bird all in one stroke.”
“How to cut a string into several pieces and immediately to
make it whole again.”
“Admirable secret for cutting an apple in four, eight or more
pieces without damaging the skin.”
“How to contrive that he or she whom you appoint in drying the
face with a cloth shall become black. A very amusing secret,”
etc., etc.
Even a prophetic almanac for 1623 appeared under the name of Tabarin with
admirable predictions for every month of the year. It is a collection of
sentences and predictions after the manner of _La Palisse_.
“First of all should no timber or faggots arrive in port we
shall be in danger of paying high prices for fuel, etc. The
month of March will commence immediately after the last day of
February, and the weather will be very variable. The month of
April will follow after, etc. In the month of June the grass
will be cut. In July there will be a great war between dogs and
hares. Bulls will be twice as big as sheep and donkeys will be
as stupid as usual, whilst diminishing nothing in the length of
their ears. In the month of October the Normans will be busy in
their orchards. The month of December will be the last month of
the year. In this year no rustics will be ennobled,” etc., etc.
All such prognostications, like many others of Tabarin, come in
direct line from Rabelais, who himself imitated in his _Pantagrueline
prognostication_ the collection of _facéties_ of Henri Bebelius.
“This year the blind will see very little, the deaf will hear
very badly and the dumb will not speak at all. Many sheep,
bulls, pigs, geese, pullets and ducks will die. Fleas will
mostly be black. There will be horrible sedition between dogs
and hares, between cats and rats, between moles and eggs. In
all this year there will be but one moon, and it will not be a
new one. In winter, according to my little judgment, those who
sell their furs to buy wood will not be wise. Should it rain
do not be melancholy, for there will be the less dust on the
roads. Keep yourselves warm, avoid catarrhs and drink the best.”
The costume of Tabarin was composed of his mirific hat, of a felt which
was red rather than grey, of a short cloak in old green serge, and jacket
and trousers of linen.
iv
BURATTINO is a famous mask of the _Gelosi_ troupe. It was somewhere
about 1580 that this personage appeared in Florence and scored so great
a success that very soon he passed into the marionette theatres, and his
name became the denomination of all marionettes, _Fantoccini_, _Puppi_,
_Pupazzi_ and _Bamboccie_. In 1628 a piece was even written about this
personage by Francesco Gattici, entitled _Le Disgrazie di Burattino_
(_The Misfortunes of Burattino_).
In the scenarii of Flaminio Scala, Burattino is a comical character,
addicted to tears, a glutton, a coward and always a dupe. He is a
servant, sometimes of Captain Spavento, sometimes of Isabella and
sometimes of Pantaloon. In fairy plays he intrudes upon the action to
deliver his jests, which have absolutely no connection with the plot. He
is a sort of ancient Stenterello. In _L’Innocente Persiana_, Burattino
is the servant of the Prince of Egypt, and his rôle consists of losing
and finding his master. In some plays he is a courier bearing letters,
booted, wearing a wide felt hat, and carrying a whip; he loses his
letters, or permits them to be stolen from him, which disheartens him,
and, crossing his legs, he refuses thereafter to be entrusted with any
commission.
At other times he is a gardener, the father of Olivetta, an indolent
girl, little given to work. He reproaches her with being unable to do
anything. “How,” he cries, “at your age and as big as you are, and, my
faith, fit to be married, you still do not know how to use a mattock
or how to plant a cabbage!” Thereupon he submits her to a course of
burlesque horticulture, naming to her one after another the garden
implements, and telling her how to use them.
Very often he is an innkeeper, and married to Franceschina, who leads him
by the nose. The Captain, having dined at his inn, departs after having
paid. Burattino is so surprised that he takes up a spade, shoulders it,
and thus escorts the Captain home to do him honour; but he is careful to
take with him Grillo, the pot-boy, so that he shall not be compelled to
return alone. When he gets back he perceives Pantaloon whispering with
his servant Pedrolino; the latter, perceiving Burattino, with whose wife
he is in love, raises his voice and reproaches Pantaloon with attempting
to betray the wife of that poor fellow Burattino. Pantaloon beats his
servant for having disclosed his intentions before the husband and
departs. Burattino comforts Pedrolino who has suffered for the sake of
the honour of his friend the innkeeper; he takes him inside, feeds him,
and then, with the greatest confidence, entrusts him with the vigilance
of his wife during his absence.
No sooner has our innkeeper departed than Madame Franceschina makes
unmistakable advances to Pedrolino. It is Pantaloon who seeks to convince
Burattino of the treachery of his friend and of his wife. Furious,
the innkeeper demands an explanation of Franceschina, who assures him
mockingly that he is mistaken. He believes her and returns to his
affairs, but Pantaloon, grown jealous on his own account, returns to the
assault, and compels the husband to surprise the two lovers. Burattino
seeks various ways of vengeance; he decides for poison and spends half
the piece seeking a suitable one; being unable to find any, he decides to
call the watch, and it is before the justice that he demands explanations
of his wife and Pedrolino. The result is that Burattino is persuaded
that he misunderstood what he heard and what he saw, which was no more
than a pleasantry. He believes and begs forgiveness of his wife, whom he
continues to account virtuous.
The actor who played the rôle of Burattino in the _Gelosi_ troupe must
very long have been absent from it, for he is not found to be included in
a whole series of scenarii which must cover a space of some six to eight
years.
v
CAVICCHIO was in the _Gelosi_ troupe in the sixteenth century, a sort of
imbecile and rustic servant. His rôles are short, and they consist mainly
in his coming on to sing and to relate some story after the fashion of
the peasants.