imprinted on them the features of the ideal, whether it be tragic
or comic. M. Belloc, a pupil of Mercie, has modelled for the little
theatre heads which are either powerfully grotesque or of a charming
purity. His Miranda has the subtle grace of a figure of the early
Italian Renaissance and the virginal fragrance of that fortunate
fifteenth century which made beauty bloom a second time in the world.
His Ariel in his gauze tunic spangled with silver reminds one of a
miniature Tanagra figure, doubtless because aerial elegance of form is
a particular attribute of Hellenic art in its decline.
“These two pretty puppets spoke with the clear voices of Mesdemoiselles
Paule Verne and Cecile Dorelle. As for the more masculine parts in
the drama, Prospero, Caliban, and Stephano, poets such as MM. Maurice
Bouchor, Raoul Ponchan, Amédée Pigeon, Felix Rabbé spoke for them. Not
to mention Coquelin, cadet, who did not disdain to repeat the prologue
as well as the amusing part of Trinculo, the clown.
“The decorations also had their poetry. M. Lucien Doucet represented
Prospero’s cave with that cunning grace which is one of the
characteristics of his talent, etc.”
Again: “In the meantime I have seen the marionettes of the Rue Vivienne
twice and I have enjoyed them very much. I am infinitely thankful to
them for having replaced living actors.
“They are divine, these dolls of M. Signoret and worthy of giving form
to the dreams of the poet whose mind Plato says, was ‘the sanctuary of
the Graces.’
“Thanks to them we have Aristophanes in miniature. When the curtain has
risen on an aerial landscape and we have watched the two semicircles
of birds taking their places on either side of the sacrifice, we
have formed some idea of the theatre of Bacchus. What a delightful
representation! One of the two leaders of the birds turning to the
spectators utters these words: ‘Feeble men, like unto the leaf, vain
creatures fashioned out of clay and wanting wings, unhappy mortals
condemned to an ephemeral and fugitive life, shadows, baseless
dream....’ It is the first time, I think that marionettes have spoken
with this melancholy gravity.”
All this is very interesting and very serious, no doubt, but what
of the piping, impertinent voice of Polichinelle? And of this merry
Guignol who makes the children laugh? It may seem odd to insert these
slapstick buffoons into the midst of aristocratic literary puppets,
but after all Guignol was growing and thriving contemporaneously with
them and the hardy little fellow has outlived the most of them. Less
elaborate and socially less select than those others installed in their
artistic theatres, these al fresco performances in the Champs Élysées,
in the gardens of the Tuileries and Luxembourg follow the traditional
custom of their kind. The _castellet_ of Guignol is little different
from Punch’s booth, the dolls are most often simple creatures worked
on the fingers, squeaking extemporary dialogue such as one might hear
from the pupazzi of Italy or the figures of the Chinese peripatetic
showman swathed in his linen bag.
Polichinelle has been through difficult times. The French Revolution
found him obscure but a patriot, rejoicing at the new order of things.
Later he was discovered amusing Emperor Napoleon the Third at the
Tuileries Palace. In 1854 the French Zouaves and Grenadiers in the
Crimea took Polichennello along with them and he loyally followed up to
the very battlefield. But oftenest he was to be seen, through the long
lapse of years, humiliated, humbled,--dancing on a board at the twitch
of a horizontal string tied to the knee of some little Savoyard boy who
beat a tambourine or blew upon a pipe and sang a pathetic song as he
journeyed on to Paris. And there, too, on sidewalks and, when the wind
blew cold, in the shelter of arches puppets danced on the board and the
little boy gathered his pennies to send back home to his mother.
Thus Polichinelle has pursued his incredible career until we find him
to-day with a devoted wife La Mère Gigogne and many well known if
less popular fellows, such as Pierrot, and Harlequin, to say nothing
of his many delightful and successful offspring. There is Lafleur
the Polichinelle of Picardy, favorite of Amiens, a handsome peasant
fellow always pleasant spoken even when beating up the policeman.
Jacques is a little buffoon who entertains the public of Lille in his
modest basement theatre. There in _Joseph sold by his Brothers_, or
_Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves_ he performs the principal parts (“la
comédie pour un sou”). Most prominent of the progeny of Polichinelle is
Guignol. Indeed he somewhat over-shadows his sire.
Although he has established himself so thoroughly in Paris, Guignol
first came from Lyons. His creator was the modest but expert
marionettist, Laurent Mourguet. It is he who is reported to have
said to the friends weeping at his deathbed, “I shall never make
you cry as much as I have made you laugh.” Guignol originated in a
picturesque but humble cellar show. Although he has now moved into
new and finer quarters, he remains a modest workman simply dressed,
perpetually harried by his landlord and always with insufficient funds
to pay his rent. He has a wife, long suffering _Madelon_, and a wild
and wicked son _Guillaume_ and along with them one finds _Gnaffron_,
_Gringellet_, _Bobine_, _Bambochnette_, _le Gendarme_, _le Médecin_,
_le Propriétaire_, _le Juge_, all these and many others.
In the Gardens of the Luxembourg, on the Champs Élysées or elsewhere
in Paris, one may come upon these little actors merrily performing
on small stages erected for them, and with an audience of spellbound
children and nursemaids sitting before the castellet.
Most celebrated of these Parisian theatres is that of the _Vrai
Guignol_ in the Champs Élysées. M. Anatole, the founder of it, was
the first who undertook to expand the repertoire of Guignol and to
introduce pieces of adventure whose very names delight one: _The
Brigands of the Black Forest_, _The Enchanted Village_, _Mother
Michel and her Cat_, _The Temptation of St. Anthony_, and many more.
Unfortunately for M. Anatole there was no copyright law for puppet
plays and when a rival showman wanted to give a new play he merely
went to see Anatole’s performance and then reproduced it. But Anatole
himself deserves his reputation. He was an artist with prodigious
ingenuity: he wrote his own pieces, he could give twenty distinct
voices in one show as well as manipulate the dolls. He himself carved
the puppets’ heads while his wife made the costumes.
Inspired by his success a young literateur, Charles Duranty, attempted
in 1862 to _uplift_ Guignol. He had an elegant little castellet erected
and he spent months preparing the plays, giving them style and some
sort of philosophical turn. His figures were created by artists.
The prologue, it is said, was composed by a poet. The result was--a
failure. His show appealed to too limited an audience; it was too
artistic for the nursemaids and soldiers. The Tuileries were not for
philosophy. The scenes soon were left to Guignol and the Commissaire
who are so dear and delightful to their Parisian public. And again
recently, a version of Rostand’s _Chantecler_ was given by the puppets.
There were to be seen chickens, peacocks, dogs, even a magnificent
rooster, but Guignol and Guillaume were wanting. Surprised at first,
before long the children began to clamor for their heroes,--and they
had to be satisfied.
On the steamship La France, now sailing back and forth across the
ocean, one may find a little theatre for Guignol in the children’s
room. It is operated every day by Paul Boinet who is considered one of
the best Guignol experts in France and was specially engaged by the
French Line for that reason. He operates plays, we are told, in which
there are sometimes as many as fifteen actors and to each puppet’s
voice he manages to give a different intonation. The children’s room of
the steamer holds about fifty people and is filled to capacity at each
performance not only with children but with grown-up people.
Meanwhile literary puppets continue to afford pleasure in the artistic
salons or in semi-public productions throughout Paris. It would be vain
to attempt to mention them all. They are of every type. The artists
of France have the _habit_ of the marionette, they express themselves
spontaneously and gladly in this métier and hence we find them giving
more or less informal presentations of poetic or satiric drama here
and there, from year to year. M. Émile Renie had _le théâtre des
marionettes de la Rue des Martyrs_; Cayot established a _théâtre des
pupazzi_ in his photographic studio. At the Paris Exposition of 1900
there flourished a marionette theatre with a troupe of 4,000 dolls of
whom the leading actors were marvels of mechanical perfection. Quite
recently a show was installed at the Musée Grevin with decorations by
Jules Cheret. It was not a great financial success and was obliged
to close its doors. In 1896 in the Salons of _la Plume_, Lugné Poë
(Director of L’Œuvre) produced a marionette play of Alfred Jarry and
Claude Terrasse entitled _Ubu Roi_. The former also made the drawings
for two programmes, the latter was the leader of his orchestra.
Jules Lemaître in his _Impressions de Théâtre_ portrays with great
interest several puppet productions witnessed by him. One was the chic
Revue in four tableaux given in 1889 at the Salon de Helder by the well
known authoress, Gyp. It was called _Tout à l’égout_, a very clever
and original parody of the season past. There Gyp had represented the
type for which she has grown famous, Lou-lou the pert little French
miss as seen on the Champs Élysées. There also promenaded the literary
and political celebrities satirized in the inimitable style of the
keen-eyed Gyp. The parts were read by amateurs, effectively but with no
attempt at eloquence.
[Illustration: GUIGNOL AND GNAFRON
Presented by Pierre Rousset, French showman
[From Ernest Maindron’s _Marionettes et Guignols_]]
Very different in spirit was the puppet drama, _Noël ou le Mystère de
la Nativité_, by the poet Maurice Bouchor who had been active also in
the Erotikon theatron and that of M. Signoret. It was written in four
tableaux, in verse. The music for this delicate little mystery was
composed by Paul Vidal, the dolls were designed by MM. Henri Lombard
and J. Belloc, scenery by Félix Bouchor, brother of the poet, Henri
Lerolle and Marcelle Rieder. Lemaître described the performance as a
masterpiece of grace and beauty, particularly the last tableau of
the Adoration. “The music of the lullaby, rarely exquisite, soft and
celestial, etc. The Virgin puppet, almost immobile, merely inclining
slightly forward toward the Infant while singing, had the candor of a
lily and appeared as beautiful in the light in which she was bathed
as the purest and most naïve Virgin of the primitive painters.”
Another play by the same poet was given in 1894. It was in verse, five
tableaux. M. Lemaître considered it even superior as a drama to _Noël_
though possibly a bit strong for the puppets in its philosophy. It was
the last performance, unfortunately, of the “delicious marionettes of
Maurice Bouchor.”
The latest word I have heard of French puppets comes from the war zone.
Mr. Henry S. West has written in a recent number of the _Literary
Digest_ of French troops in the forests of Champenoux and Parroy who
had taken an oath “never to retreat from Lorraine.” Hence they have
made themselves a comfortable park with flower beds, gravel paths,
rustic bench, all in their _Parc des Braves_. Most diverting, however,
are their elaborately constructed scenes of puppet warfare. The most
famous of these is _The Seven Chasseurs of Domèvre_. It appears that
seven French soldiers at Domèvre held a bridge against a small horde
of Germans. It was a brave deed which resounded through Lorraine. Some
clever lad wrote several stanzas about it and tacked them up on trees.
This gave the idea to a dramatic critic who was off active duty for
the time. He and his friends worked together and in a week completed
the little show and placed it where it could be seen by every soldier
passing on his way to battle.
A grassy knoll was chosen. An arched bridge of two feet was erected
under which real water was made to flow. On one side of the bridge were
piled tiny logs and trees behind which were the seven Chasseurs eight
inches high dressed in the old red and blue French uniform, little caps
on their heads, wooden guns in their hands. Twenty Germans in real
field-grey were attempting to charge. Some were dead, others falling,
three running away, all with scared expressions carved upon their
little wooden faces. The verses were nailed up near by:
“There were seven Chasseurs of Domèvre
Who were so exceedingly brave
When the Germans attacked
They got thoroughly whacked,
‘Voila!’ said the men of Domèvre.”
_Puppet Shows of Germany and of Other Continental Countries_
Perhaps it was the luxuriant forests of Germany offering abundant
material and opportunity which encouraged the native aptitude, at any
rate the inhabitants of the land have at all times been noted for their
skill in wood carving. Moreover they appear to take a certain delight
in mechanical devices. From very early times these interests were
applied to the making of mechanical toys and dramatic puppets.
In the dark ages we find the people of the country carving a grotesque
sort of wooden doll, called _Kobold_ or _Tattermann_ which they set up
in the chimney and worshipped as a heathen household deity. Later these
little figures came to be worked by wires. As far back as the twelfth
century and according to Charles Magnin even in the tenth century, the
word _Tocha_ or _Docha_ was used to signify a kind of puppet. One of
the earliest Minnesingers mentions _Tokkenspil_ in his poem and another
speaks of the _Jongleuren_ attracting their audiences by displaying
little dolls which they pulled out at any time from under their
mantles.
The subject of the early Tokkenspiel seems to have been gathered
chiefly from the legends of the _Edda_, and from the _Hildebrandslied_
and the _Niebelungenlied_. Praetorius mentions: “Foolish jugglers’
tents where old Hildebrand and such _Possen_ are played with _Dokken_,
called puppet comedies.” Later the mystery play appeared and the
automatic _Kruppenspiel_, religious drama here as elsewhere opening
up a path for the profane. These plays were founded upon such themes
as, _The Fall of Adam and Eve_, _Goliath and David_, _Judith and
Holofernes_, _King Herod_ or _The Siege of Jerusalem_.
Of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries we have little positive
data. Romantic subjects appear to have been used for the puppets, also
history and fable such as _The Four Sons of Aymon_, _Genevieve of
Brabante_, _The Lady of Roussillon_, and even _Joan of Arc_ which was
quoted in another piece performed in 1430.
Invariably the comic element appears in the puppet shows of all
nations. In Germany and Austria the buffoon has always been a part of
even the most tragic dramas, lending variety and relief by his good
natured, if somewhat obvious jests. The first names by which he was
known in Germany may have been Meister Eulenspiegel or Hemmerlein,
later it became Hanswurst and Kasperle. The name Kasperle, so Rabe
claims, came through Austria and Professor Pischel goes still further
in his assertion that the prototype for Kasperle was brought into the
land over two thousand years ago from India. Later, of course, Italian
and French players introduced Pulcinella and Arlecchino with their
merry company.
In Hamburg puppets have been popular from earliest times. It was in
1472 that a showman announced _The Public Beheading of the Virgin
Dorothea_. This theme remained a favorite in the puppet plays of that
city for centuries, while the long suffering martyr continued to be
ever more and more elaborately but neatly beheaded, in full view of
the audience. In the eighteenth century an announcement proclaimed:
“Exceptional marionette players with large figures and, accompanied by
lovely singing, the execution of Dorothea.” The play of _The Prodigal
Son_ was another great favorite. It gradually lost its religious
character and became a rather gruesome affair producing with ingenious
mechanical appliances metamorphoses of which the country has always
been particularly fond. For instance, Reibehand, a tailor who set
up a booth in the horse market of Hamburg, advertised in 1752: “The
Arch-prodigal chastened by the four elements, with Harlequin a joyous
companion of the great criminal.” This _extra-moral_ piece, given in
great style, displays the prodigal about to partake of fruit which
turns into skulls in his hands, then water becomes transformed into
fire, rocks rend apart disclosing a corpse hanging from a gallows. As
it swings in the wind, the limbs fall off and then collect again, on
the ground, and arise to pursue the prodigal, and so on with similarly
pleasing surprises.
In 1688 another showman, Elten, advertised _Adam and Eve_ and following
it _Jackpudding in a Box_ and later another announces: _Elijah’s
Translation into Heaven_, or _The Stoning of Naboth_, followed by a
farce, _The Schoolmaster Murdered by Jackpudding_ or _The Baffled Bacon
Thieves_.
There had been in Hamburg, however, French marionette troupes which
gave very artistic puppet operas based upon mythological subjects,
such as _Medea_, including in one of its casts a puppet who smoked!
These plays were produced in combination with acts by living actors,
jugglers, acrobats, and trick horses.
As far back as the sixteenth century scepticism and sorcery had become
the order of the day with the Germans who have naturally a tendency
toward philosophical reflections, as well as a leaning toward the
occult and supernatural. It was then that _Faust_, embodying both of
these tendencies, first appeared upon the puppet stage, with most
significant consequences for German literature.
This puppet play might be sufficiently interesting in itself, but the
fact that it became the inspiration for one of the world’s greatest
dramas may lend an added justification for pausing a moment to trace
its curious history. Early in the sixteenth century it is said that the
Tokkenspieler presented, at the Fairs, _The Prodigious and Lamentable
History of Doctor Faustus_. In 1587 the famous _Spiesische Faust
Buch_ was published in Frankfurt and recorded the adventures of a
semi-historical charlatan who had wandered through Germany in the early
sixteenth century. He was famous not only for his skill in medicine but
in necromancy and other similar arts. He may have been identical with
Georgius Sabellicus who called himself Faustus Junior, implying that
there had been a still earlier Faust. He may possibly have been the
Bishop Faustinus of Diez, seduced from the right path by Simon Magus,
or the printer of Mainz, Johann Faust, who was declared to have been a
sorcerer. Whoever he was, the disreputable conjurer tricked fate into
granting him an immortal name. In 1588 two students of Tübingen and a
publisher were punished for putting forth a puppet play based upon this
Spies book. There are other versions of the Faust puppet show, that
played at Strassburg, that of Augsburg, of Ulm and of Cologne, each
varying slightly from the others. They were all first produced about
the time of Marlowe’s famous drama on the same theme or only a trifle
later.
The story of the Faust play has a tremendous appeal; it is a picture
of man’s vain desires and vain regrets. We find the scholar Faust
alone in his study, meditating over the wasted years of research and
the wisdom of this world which is so limited at best. He turns to the
black arts and summons up an evil spirit to serve him. In one version
of the puppet play Faust calls up numerous devils and decides to select
as his own particular servant the swiftest. Thereupon the evil spirits
describe their speed. One claims to be “as swift as the shaft of
pestilence”; the next is “as swift as the wings of the wind”; another
“as a ray of light”; the fourth “as the thought of man”; the fifth “as
the vengeance of the Avenger.” But the last, who is Mephistopheles,
is as swift “as the passage from the first sin to the second.” Faust
replies: “That is swift indeed. Thou art the devil for me.” Then he
signs the pact with his blood. A raven flies in and carries away the
message. Mephistopheles is bound for twenty-four years to provide Faust
with all the pleasures of this world and also _to answer truthfully
every question asked him_. In return Faust pledges his soul to the
devil at the expiration of the time.
Mephistopheles carries Faust to the court of the Count of Parma where
he entertains the count and countess with magical shows, calling up
Samson and Delilah, David and Goliath, Solomon and the Queen of Sheba.
Throughout the play Faust is always taken seriously; Kasperle supplies
the ludicrous element. His buffoonery is at times really amusing. As
an assistant of Faust’s servant Wagner, he meddles with magic, on his
own responsibility. Having picked up a few words of incantation, he
uses them according to his own pleasure; but Kasperle is wiser than his
master for he very shrewdly refuses to sign away his soul. However, he
has discovered that by pronouncing the potent syllables “Perlippe” he
can summon up demons and by saying “Perlappe” he can make them vanish.
Thereupon he amuses himself (and the audience) by reciting “Perlippe,
perlappe, perlippe, perlappe,” so often and in such quick succession
that the poor demons get quite out of breath and very irritable.
In the last act we find Faust back after twelve years at his study in
Wittenburg. He has had his fill of pleasures and is sick at heart and
repentant. He asks Mephistopheles whether there would be a chance of
a sinner like himself coming to God. Mephistopheles, compelled by his
oath to answer truthfully, vanishes with a cry of terror which is an
admission of the possibility. Faust, with new hope in his heart, kneels
before the image of the Virgin in supplication. But Mephistopheles
reappears with a vision of Helen of Troy to tempt Faust, who resists
but finally succumbs. Forgetting the Virgin he rushes out with Helen
in his arms. Immediately he returns and reproaches Mephistopheles for
deceiving him, because the vision has turned into a serpent in his
embrace. “What else did you expect from the devil?” asks Mephistopheles.
Faust realizes he is lost. Moreover his time is up, for the devil
having served him both night and day considers that he has done
twenty-four years work in twelve. Wandering the streets in despair
Faust comes upon Kasperle, now the nightwatchman, and tries naïvely
to cheat the devil by offering Kasperle his own coat. But the shrewd
fellow is too keen to be thus taken to eternal torture in another’s
place. Ten o’clock strikes, then eleven. “Go,” says Faust to Kasperle,
“go and see not the dreadful end to which I hasten.” Kasperle goes out.
Twelve o’clock strikes and Faust hears the terrible sentence pronounced
upon him: “Accusatus est, judicatus est, condamnatus est.” The fiends
appear amidst flames and smoke and drag him away to his horrible fate.
Kasperle returning and finding him gone, exclaims: “Poof! What a smell
of brimstone!”