show in Trapani where the burattini were presenting some version of the
Paladins of France. Before entering, his guide, Pasquale, informed him:
“She will die to-night.” He referred to Bradamante. Mr. Jones expressed
regret and asked for particulars, whereupon Pasquale elucidated: “She
will die of grief at the loss of her husband.” And so, indeed, she
did. It proved an affecting scene and was read with deep pathos. The
Empress Marfisa, searching for Bradamante in the woods, finds her
prostrate in a grotto. “Farewell, sister, I am dying.” Then she dies.
An angel flutters down and receives her soul from her lips.
More thrilling, of course, was the fighting of the red-eyed Ferrain,
performed the same night (red-eyed, incidentally, “because he was
always in a rage”). The first episode presented Ferrain and Angelica
whose husband he killed. “He cut off Duca d’Anela’s head, which rolled
about on the stage. Immediately there came three Turks. Ferrain stabbed
each as he entered, one, two, three, and their bodies encumbered the
ground as the curtain fell.
“It rose as soon as the bodies had been removed, Ferrain stamping about
alone. There came three more Turks. He stabbed them as they came, one,
two, three, and their bodies encumbered the ground. To them there came
three knights in armour; Ferrain fought them all three together for a
very considerable time and it was deafening. He killed them all. Their
bodies, etc., together with those of the three Turks. A bloody sight.”
These fantoccini of Trapani were large and crude, dressed in heavy
armor. An iron rod, extending up from the head, another attached to the
sword hand served for the moving and manipulating of them. Strings were
employed to raise the vizier, etc. The legs and arms were apt to swing
rather wildly in the heat of the fray, the combatants often sweeping
off their feet through the air. Then armor clashed against armor,
body against body, swords shivering against shield. Truly, an amazing
display!
However naïve or even childishly absurd some of these exaggerated
episodes may appear, viewed with a sympathetic eye they become
manifestations of unconscious romance in the spirit of the Sicilian
people, a curiously mingled heritage which is theirs. While the
Paladins and Saracens heroically stamp across the boards of the puppet
show, one may sit back and recall the many great races dwelling about
the Mediterranean, which have had their influence in Sicily from the
Phoenicians and Greeks, Normans and Saracens down. One remembers the
reign of the Emperor Frederick II, the strange blending of East and
West, the Christian cathedrals of Moslem design and decoration, a
time inspired by the songs of the troubadours wandering through the
blossoming land and spreading their spell of Carolingian chivalry and
romance.
The familiarity of the people with the long and intricate legends they
love so well is humorously portrayed by Mr. Henry Festing Jones. This
author was particularly fortunate in having formed a friendship with
a very busy _buffo_ of Palermo and with his entire family. Hence the
illuminating intimacy of his visits behind the scenes. In a letter
anticipating Mr. Jones’ visit, the buffo writes concerning his show
that the marionettes had just produced _Samson_ and that, “just now
in _The Story of the Paladine_, Orlando is throwing away his arms and
running about naked in the woods, mad for the love of Angelica, and
soon we shall have the burning of Bizerta and the destruction of the
Africans. This will finish in July and then we shall begin _The Story
of Guido Santo_.” This programme appears to have been carried out in
order, for Mr. Jones, arriving at the _teatrino_, found the performance
of _Guido Santo_ in full swing.
“The buffo,” he writes, “took me into his workshop to show me two
inflammable Turkish pavilions which he was making. Ettorina in her
madness was to fire them in a few days, one in the afternoon, the
other at the evening repetition, as a conclusion to the spectacle. I
inquired, ‘Who was Ettorina and why did she go mad?’ It appeared, at
great length, that she went mad for love of Ruggiero Persiano.
“Next morning,” continues the narrator, “I called on the buffo in his
workshop. The two inflammable Turkish pavilions were finished, ready
to be fired by Ettorina, and he was full of his devils.” This led to
another question: “I never heard of Argantino before. Did you say he
was the son of Malagigi?”
“That is right. He did not happen to be at Roncesvalles, so he was not
killed with Orlando and the other paladins. An angel came to him and
said, ‘Now the Turks will make much war against the Christians and,
since the Christians always want a magician, it is the will of Heaven
that you shall have the rod of Malagigi, who is no longer here, and
that Guido Santo shall have la Durlindana, the sword of Orlando.’ And
it was so, and Argantino thereafter appeared as a pilgrim.”
“I remember about Malagigi; he made all of Rinaldo’s armor.”
“Excuse me, he made some of his armor; but he did not make his helmet,
nor his sword Fusberta, nor his horse Baiardo. First you must know that
Rinaldo was one of the four brothers, sons of Amone, and their sister
was Bradamante.”
“I saw her die at Trapani. The Empress Marfisa came and found her dying
of grief in a grotto for loss of her husband, Ruggiero da Risa.”
“Precisely; she was Marfisa’s sister-in-law because she married
Marfisa’s brother, Ruggiero da Risa.”
“Then who was the cavaliere errante, Ruggiero Persiano?”
“He was the son of Marfisa and Guidon Selvaggio, and this Guidon
Selvaggio was the son of Rinaldo.”
“Had Bradamante no children?”
“Guido Sante is the son of Bradamante and Ruggiero da Risa.”
“I heard something about Guido Sante in Castellinaria the other day.
Let me see, what was it? Never mind. I hope he left children.”
“I told you last year that he never married.”
“Oh, yes, of course; what was I thinking of? One cannot remember
everything at once and pedigrees are always confusing at first. Then
it was for love of Bradamante’s nephew by marriage, Ruggiero Persiano,
that Ettorina has now gone mad?”
“Bravo. And Malagigi was Bradamante’s cousin.” The buffo then
continued to tell the story of Malagigi and Argantino. How Malagigi,
the sorcerer, albeit a Christian, began to have fears of not getting
into Heaven when he died, hence decided to repent and burn all his
magic books but one. After having accomplished this, he summoned his
confidential and private devil and commanded, “Convey me to some
peaceful shore where I may repent of my sins and die of grief in a
grotto.”
Here his friend objected that this made “consecutive fifths” with
his cousin Bradamante dying of grief in a grotto in Trapani. The
buffo admitted it would have been better if one of them had had the
originality to die in bed as a Christian, but that it was the will
of Heaven and could not be altered; besides the people who missed
the death of Bradamante would be pleased to see Malagigi die. After
repenting like S. Gerolamo in his grotto, Malagigi died there. A long
time after his son Argantino and his second cousin Guido Santo were
travelling in Asia and found the tomb. Guido knelt down, saying, “I
perceive here a sepulchre.”
Presently the tomb opened and Malagigi’s skeleton rattled up and spoke
to them. He gave his magic book to Argantino, the horse Sfrenato to
Guido and made them swear to preserve the faith. After his skeleton
retired to the tomb it closed by a miracle while a ball of fire ran
over the stage. “And all this,” said the buffo, “happened only last
Friday. Why did you not come in time to see it? It was very emotional.”
Later the buffo gave a private performance of this emotional scene and
then “to take the taste of the skeleton out of our mouths,” as Mr.
Jones puts it, he brought forth a _Ballo Fantastico_. It was done by
a heavy Turk who danced himself to pieces, each limb falling off and
being changed into a little devil, the head into a wizard and so on,
until there were sixteen different devils, wizards, serpents, etc.,
from the one original Turk. After this there came on a marvellous
rope-dancer, extraordinarily lifelike and amusing.
At Catania, at the _Teatro Sicilia_ of Gregorio Grasso, Mr. Jones
saw _The Passion_ performed by puppets during Holy Week. Every scene
was presented in detail, from the meeting of the Sanhedrin and the
conspiracy between Annas and Caiaphas to destroy the Nazarene to the
Resurrection and the Ascension. The figures were all newly costumed
for this occasion and their faces freshly painted, but there lingered
about the soldiers a flavor reminiscent of the Paladins. The scenes
were arranged quite in the manner of the paintings of old masters. The
table set for the Last Supper and the puppets seated around it strongly
suggested Leonardo da Vinci. The figure of Jesus, although not wholly
successful, was manipulated with great understanding. It moved but
little, and then with simple, slow gestures; it was allowed to speak
only the few words given to Christ in the Gospels. When it caused a
miracle, a great light appeared and there was music. The puppets here
also performed the _Nativita_ at Christmas. For the rest they had the
usual Sicilian repertory.
* * * * *
In Spain, as in Italy, one may trace the beginnings of puppetry back
to the ecclesiastic ceremonies in churches and monasteries where
articulated figures presented scenes from Holy Writ and legends of
saints and martyrs,--all this notwithstanding repeated canonical
prohibitions. These little figures remained as late as the sixteenth
century in the churches of Seville. We are told by Charles Magnin that
at the commencement of the seventeenth century a synod was held at
Orhuela, a little Valencian bishopric which solemnly forbade “admission
into churches of small images of the Virgin and female saints, curled,
painted, covered with jewels and dressed in silks and resembling
courtesans.”
[Illustration: WOODEN SPANISH PUPPETS
Part of a large and elaborate set
[Courtesy of the Bradlay Studios, New York]]
The emperor, Charles V, had a great love for curious and ingenious
mechanical toys, and with such encouragement many mechanicians applied
themselves to the invention of automatic contrivances. Giovanni
Torriani is said to have won favor by constructing a very wonderful
clock. When Charles V abdicated his throne and retired to the monastery
of Cremona, the loyal Torriani followed him to his retreat, and many an
hour this famous mathematician spent distracting the saddened monarch
with marionette shows. He constructed marvellous _titeres_, as the
Spanish puppets are called, little armed men who blew horns, beat
drums, and fought; little horses and even miniature bull-fights.
At the marriage festival of Louis XIV and the Infanta Maria Teresa a
feature in the procession which welcomed Mazarin’s arrival in Spain was
a group of mammoth Moors and their wives, which moved ponderously along
by means of very intricate internal mechanisms.
There had previously been theatrical puppets in Spain, but these
mechanical improvements were soon adopted by the popular _titereros_,
showmen, and the marionettes sprung up in all public places, in cities,
villages, fairs, even at court.
The characters and repertories of the titeres were always strictly
national, although the exhibitors were frequently foreigners. Moors,
knights, giants, enchanters, conquerors of the Indies, saints, hermits,
bull-fighters, characters from the old and new testaments, all were
displayed in the puppet castello. The Spanish _Grazioso_, costumed
somewhat in the fashion of Pierrot, was never a very prominent
puppet; he later acquired the name of Don Christobal Pulichinela. A
well-known type of wandering show consisted of a blind man, led by a
boy, with a mule and wagon to carry the castello and equipment. The
blind man generally recited the text of the play, the boy operated the
puppets. Cervantes depicts a Spanish show for us where Don Quixote
and Sancho Panza saw performed, “The manner in which Signor Gayferos
accomplished the deliverance of his spouse Melisandra,” and he relates
with much spirit how Don Quixote’s chivalrous zeal interfered with the
performance of Master Peter’s puppets. Since that time, over three
hundred years, there has been little change in the titeres of Spain.
In 1877 in Madrid Molière’s _Monsieur Pourceaugnac_ was presented by
marionettes. In 1808 a French savant was present at a Valencian puppet
show when the _Death of Seneca_ was performed. The account tells us
that, “In the presence of the audience the celebrated philosopher ended
historically by opening his veins in a bath. The streams of blood that
flowed from his arms were simulated cleverly enough by the movement of
red ribbon. An unexpected miracle, less historic than the mode of his
death, wound up the drama. Amidst the noise of fireworks the pagan sage
was taken up into Heaven in a _glory_, pronouncing, as he ascended, the
confession of his faith in Jesus Christ to the perfect satisfaction of
the audience. Spain, a country of anomalies, is not to be disconcerted
by an anachronism.”
In Portugal the titeres were used so frequently to represent hermits
and monks in monkish garb that they come to be called _Bonifrates_.
They were quite similar to the Spanish marionettes.
_The Puppets in France_
“Ainsi font font font
Les petites marionettes
Elles font font
Trois petits tours et puis s’en vont.”
The French, scarcely less than the Italians, are devotees of the
diminutive Polichinelle. Moreover in France this devotion is
particularly noticeable in the upper classes. Perhaps it is this
interest of aristocratic and cultured circles or possibly the happy
genius and good taste of the people themselves which have endowed
the marionettes of France with such undeniable charm, a sort of chic
cleverness and at times a rare and finished beauty.
The ancient Gauls, before their conquest by the Romans, had great
Druid gods, Belen, Esus, Witolf, Murcia, represented by huge and
fearful idols which were operated by means of internal mechanism to
terrorize into submission the fierce, barbaric worshipers who beheld
their solemn gestures. After the conquest Greek and Roman practices
were intermingled with barbarian rites and, eventually, the doctrine
of Christianity was infused into the mass of strange beliefs and
superstitions. But even in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries,
after the new religion had become established in the land, its
priests continued to employ the moving images as they had done in the
churches of Italy. Similarly too, we find the sacred representations
and religious rites within the churches giving birth to the mysteries
and morality plays just outside which gradually spread to booths in
the market places and roamed the countryside under the guidance of
ambulant showmen. In the Provençal cribs, the _Crèches parlantes_ of
the southern cities at Christmas time, there are to-day many qualities
remaining from these old mysteries; the large decorated stages, the
technical devices, the transformations, the beautifully dressed,
articulated dolls, the music and recitations.
One characteristic of the great French _mitouries_ was the use,
frequently and openly, of human actors along with marionettes. Many
records of such performances have been preserved, among them a
description of one celebrated annually at Dieppe on the first day
of August by a company of clergy and laity supported by several
figures set in motion by means of strings and counterweights. In the
open space before the Church of St. James there was represented the
_Mystery of the Assumption_. Four hundred _personaggi_ participated
and the marvellous spectacle attracted throngs of strangers to the
city of Dieppe. Similar performances at Christmas, Easter, or at other
times were given in all the larger cities of France, in Rouen, Lyons,
Paris, Marseilles. The plays were of a religious character. Notable as
late as the seventeenth century were the spectacles produced by the
monks of the Order of Théatines with clever movable figures upon the
presepio they constructed before their convent door. These monks won
the favor of no less a personage than Jules Mazarin, who had them give
performances in Paris.
But, as these religious puppets ventured out from the jeweled twilight
of the cathedrals into the bright sunshine they were accosted by
flippant crews of wanderers from the South, Pulcinella, Arlecchino,
Dottore, Cassandrino, Columbine, and other protagonists of Italian
puppet drama, exploring in their castelli the highroads and villages
of a new country. The merry foreigners intermingled happily with
the native _fantoches_; they altered their names and their natures
with easy adaptability and upon the French puppet stage appeared in
sprightly guise _Polichinelle_, _Harlequin_, _Pierrot_.
French theatrical puppets must have become established in the sixteenth
century for we find them mentioned in a work entitled _Serées_
published 1584, by Guillaume Bouchet, juge et consul des marchands à
Poitier. Polichinelle first presented himself to the Parisian public
about 1630 and although not yet at the height of his glory he was
completely changed into a buffoon of Gascony. In 1649 the marionettes
entered into the first permanent stage erected in Paris for the _jeu
des marionettes_, by the side of the Porte de Nesle. The proprietors
of this theatre were two brothers (or father and son as some prefer
to consider them) from Bologna, Giovanni and Francesco Briocci, the
name changed by the French to Brioché. It is said that Brioché first
displayed his dolls to attract clients for himself as he originally
plied the trade of dentist. At any rate Francesco carved the dolls and
Giovanni improvised the dialogue in French interspersed with quaint
Italian or Latin sayings. So amusing were these burattini that they
became tremendously the rage. We find Brioché mentioned in the works of
the academician, Perrault, and in 1677 Nicolas Boileau speaks of him as
a well known figure in the Parisian streets, “Là non loin de la place
où Brioché préside, etc.”
There is a well known story concerning Cyrano de Bergerac and a
trained ape of Brioché, _Fagotin_ by name. A contemporary account of
the incident thus describes the animal: “He was as big as a little
man and a devil of a droll. His master had put on him an old Spanish
hat whose dilapidations were concealed by a plume: round his neck was
a frill à la Scaramouche; he wore a doublet with six movable skirts
trimmed with lace and tags,--a garment that gave him rather the look
of a lackey,--and a shoulder belt from which hung a pointless blade.”
One day Cyrano saw the monkey arrayed in this livery wandering and
grimacing about the puppet booth. But the poet, whose sensitiveness had
been the cause of many a duel, imagined that the poor animal was making
faces at his large nose. He grew excited and drew his sword. Thereupon
the monkey, for whom this was a well-rehearsed trick, drew forth his
tiny wooden weapon in imitation. Cyrano was infuriated beyond reason
and rushing at the creature he killed it with his sword. All Paris
heard of the event and an anonymous pamphlet was published concerning
it in 1655 called “Combat de Cyrano de Bergerac contre le singe de
Brioché.”
Another amusing tale is told of an Italian showman, supposed to have
been Brioché himself, who wandered into Switzerland where puppets
had seldom been seen. There this venturesome fellow narrowly escaped
being burned at the stake by the simple-minded inhabitants who swore
they had heard the little figures jabber, hence knew they were little
devils summoned by evil methods to do their master’s bidding. He, poor
man, was compelled to save his life by stripping the puppets naked and
displaying before his judges their small crude bodies of wood and rags
and paper.
However, in France the puppet show gained such popularity and fame
that in 1669 Brioché was summoned to the court to amuse the royal
Dauphin, son of Louis XIV. Thus Polichinelle makes his bow in the
palace as the records of the royal accounts attest: “A Brioché, joueur
de marionettes, pour le séjour qu’il a fait à Saint Germain en Laye
pendant les mois de septembre, octobre et novembre pour divertir les
Enfants de France, 1365 livres.” The following year a French showman,
Francesco Datelin, was similarly summoned to entertain the Dauphin
with his puppets, “à raison de 20 livres par jour.” The royal interest
in marionettes extended still farther for, some years later, Francesco
Brioché and his little wooden figures were protected by a special order
of the King himself to the Lieutenant General of Police. And indeed,
they probably needed such protection, for their popularity seems to
have stirred up enmity against them. Besides they were often meddlesome
and impertinent and deserved the wrath they incurred.
Under such favorable conditions companies of marionettes sprang up
all over France. They attracted the attention of many writers of the
day in whose works we may find them often and favorably mentioned,
Gacon, Scarron, La Bruyère, Lemierre, Arnaud. Most ambitious among the
immediate successors of the Briocci was the French showman, Bertrand,
with his audacious puppets who never hesitated to poke their wooden
noses into matters of gravest import. The revocation of the Edict of
Nantes furnished one well known occasion. The puppets took sides,
representing Catholics and Protestants upon their little stages.
Pantalone was in one faction, Harlequin in another and Polichinelle,
as Ferrigni describes him, “always something of an unbeliever, is
ready at all times to pour ridicule upon the hypocrisy of bigots and
the libertism of reformers.” The play drew crowds of all classes until
it was finally stopped by the authorities who had been notified of
it in this manner: “To M. de la Raynie, Councillor of the King in
Council. It is said this morning at the Palace that the marionettes
at the Fair of Saint Germain are representing the destruction of the
Huguenots and, as you will probably find this a serious matter for
the marionettes, I have deemed it right to give you the information
thereof so that you may make use of it according to your discretion.”
But despite an occasional rebuff, the marionettes became more and more
firmly established in the two Fairs of Saint Laurent and Saint Germain.
What clever shows, what ingenious and indefatigable showmen! Bienfait,
Gillot, Tiquet, Maurice, De Selles, Francesco Bodinière, the brothers
Ferron at _The Sign of the Giglio_, the _Théâtre des Pygmées_ of La
Grille, the show in the Rue Marais du Temple, _Il Gallo_ and many
others.
Now indeed the emboldened fantoches began to wage a most amazing battle
royal, their opponents being no other than the managers, actors and
singers of the contemporary stage. The three great theatres alone at
this time had the privilege of representing musical opera, tragedy,
or commedie nobili. The puppets were restricted to mere farces of
one scene for not more than two characters, only one of whom was
allowed to speak and that “par le sifflet, de la pratique,” a little
contrivance which the showman put into his mouth when reciting to
produce the shrill squeak characteristic of Polichinelle from time
immemorial. But these showmen circumvented such limitations with many
devices,--pantomimes with musical interludes and figures with printed
cards hung up to explain the action, even living children combined with
puppet play.