Every one of you little folks who has been to Naples knows Punchinello,
and those who have not extended their travels as far as that beautiful
city are well acquainted, I am sure, with "Punch and Judy."
Well, Punchinello, which, after all, only means "Little Punch," and who
is the same Punch that we all know and like so well, was born on the
shore of the Bay of Naples, and this is his wonderful history:
There was once upon a time a boatman named Pulci, who lived in a little
white house with his wife quite near the shore where his boat was
moored. Now these two good people always longed for a little child, and
were quite unhappy because they did not have any.
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But one day when they were sitting quite alone a big cat, black as soot,
appeared to jump from under the bed, and ran between Pulci's legs,
completely upsetting him. After which it rushed out at the half-open
door. At the same time there came an odd cry from the cradle.
"Wife, go and see what it is," said the trembling Pulci.
Accordingly the poor woman approached the cradle, and nearly cried with
joy when she saw a little human being inside.
"Husband! husband!" she cried, "what a pretty child!"
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A mother's eyes are indulgent, and in a deformity more or less they
never find anything to complain of. However, this pretty child only had
two defects--one in front, his stomach being shaped like a comma, and
the other on his back, which was like a note of exclamation. As far as
his face went, there was nothing to object to, unless it might be that
his nose was rather like a parrot's beak, the point of which very nearly
joined his turned-up chin.
At the end of six weeks one would have certainly said that Punchinello
was sixteen years old, so quickly did he grow, and so extraordinary was
his intelligence. His father, seeing how advanced he was, resolved to
make a street porter of him.
"Oh, dear me, no!" said Punchinello, with all due respect. "I have quite
another idea in my head."
"Well, what is it?" said his father.
"I want to go to Court."
"What next?" cried the good man, laughing.
"The reason is," replied Punchinello, "that being deformed, and having a
hump in front and a hump behind, I had better learn to read and write. I
will be a scholar. You are too poor to attend to my education, and that
is why the King ought to look after it. I am sure to succeed in making
him do so, but for that I must have a donkey."
"A donkey!" cried father and mother; "but where are we to look for a
donkey? Don't you know, my dear Punchinello, it is no easy matter to
pick up a donkey?"
"Oh! never mind that. Sell your cottage. I will undertake to provide you
with a much bigger one."
After arguing for an hour, Pulci was persuaded by Punchinello. He sold
his house and bought the donkey.
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Punchinello was no sooner master of a donkey than he was on its back,
riding straight to the King's palace, and followed by a crowd of people
and a dozen dogs.
"Sire," said Punchinello, with his funny, hoarse voice--"sire, my lords
and ladies, and you good people all, I have the honor to announce to you
that, with the permission of your Majesty, my donkey here will dance
upon a tight-rope before your Highnesses. Your humble servant
Punchinello will remain on the donkey's back during this marvellous
performance."
The King was astonished. "But when is this to be, my funny fellow? I
confess I am curious to witness this feat."
"Sire," replied Punchinello, "it will take place this very evening at
seven o'clock, if your Majesty will be good enough to order your
major-domo to provide me with all that I may require."
"Certainly," replied the King.
I must tell you, my friends, that this major-domo, who was named
Bugolin, was universally hated throughout the kingdom for his wickedness
and cruelty. For example, shortly before, he had ordered Punchinello's
father to be beaten, giving as a reason that the poor old man had been
seen treading on one of his Highness's horse's feet.
"Lord Bugolin," said the King, "I charge you to supply all that is
necessary for this little man's performance. If by any chance we should
be disappointed of this entertainment through your neglect, I will have
you hanged upon the spot; but if Punchinello has undertaken a thing that
he can't perform, he shall suffer the punishment instead."
"Sire, I agree," said Punchinello.
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Evening came at last. Thanks to the efforts of the major-domo, two poles
fifty-one feet high were erected in the court-yard of the palace, and a
rope was stretched from one to the other. The whole Court was stationed
on platforms, and the King was seated on his throne in the middle of the
centre pavilion. Punchinello arrived on his donkey, mounted the ladder
which was placed against one of the posts, and began to bow and wave his
hat.
"Now then, friend Punchinello," cried the King, "that's quite enough
bowing. Begin your performance, for I am tired of waiting."
"Sire," replied Punchinello, "I am quite ready. I am waiting for the
donkey."
"What, waiting for the donkey!" replied the King, getting furious. "Are
you making fun of me? Didn't you promise me to make him dance upon the
tight-rope?"
"And I still promise to make him do it, sire," replied Punchinello,
"only I request that he may be brought to me here where I am now, for
although I know exactly how to make my donkey dance on the rope, I
haven't the least idea how to make him come up the ladder. That is your
major-domo's business. He promised that everything should be on the spot
ready, and now he won't let me have my donkey."
At these words the whole Court began to laugh, for every one was pleased
at Lord Bugolin's embarrassment.
"But, sire--" said the major-domo, who could hardly contain his rage.
"No arguing," interrupted the King. "Make the donkey climb the ladder."
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Lord Bugolin accordingly pulled the donkey to the foot of the ladder,
and tried to get him to mount it, but the donkey wouldn't hear of such a
thing.
"Come along! Get up, you obstinate animal!" cried my lord.
"Hi-haw! hi-haw! hi-haw!" answered the donkey, beginning to bray with
all his might and main.
"You wretched beast," cried the major-domo, "will you go up or not?"
"Hi-haw! hi-haw! hi-haw!" answered the donkey, who stood firm as a
rock.
"Get along, will you?" cried Lord Bugolin, showering blows on the
donkey's back. But the donkey, out of patience, escaped all further
indignity by kicking the grand major-domo so that he lay sprawling on
the ground.
"Hurrah! hurrah!" shouted the people, and the courtiers could not
contain their delight.
However, Punchinello came down the ladder, and went to assist Lord
Bugolin, who had not been seriously hurt. He then ran at once to the
royal pavilion, and throwing himself on his knees, asked the King's
pardon with such a droll air of penitence that his Majesty said to him:
"Well, my little fellow, I grant it, but only on condition that you help
me out of the difficulty I am in about my daughter's marriage."
The difficulty of which the King spoke was this: Some years before, the
King being threatened in his capital with an invasion of the Turks, had
begged the King of the Negroes for assistance. The latter had complied,
on condition that he should be given the hand of the Princess of Naples.
The bargain was made, and the Turks had been driven out by the troops of
the two sovereigns. But now there was great lamentation, for the
Princess was beautiful and amiable, and the Negro King was known to be
ugly, ill-shapen, and of a nature to correspond. But what was to be
done, as the King had given his word and pledged his honor?
"What!" replied Punchinello, "does the treaty only mention your
promises, sire? and hasn't the King of the Negroes promised anything on
his side?"
"Nothing, alas!" Then he added: "In order to amuse himself at my
expense, my future son-in-law added a clause to the treaty, namely, that
he would give a pair of slippers to the Princess for a wedding present,
made of the most costly materials that she may feel disposed to select."
"Hurrah!" cried Punchinello. "Dry your eyes, Princess. The King of the
Negroes shall not even touch the tip of your little finger. Sire, let me
speak with the Ambassador, whom they say has just arrived."
The King at once caused the Ambassador to be summoned. As soon as he
arrived, Punchinello said to him:
"Now, my Lord Ambassador, are not you bound, according to the treaty, to
present a pair of slippers, of whatever kind she may choose, to the
Princess?"
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"Yes," said the Ambassador, "provided that the material is to be found
under the sun."
"And if you refuse the slippers, no wedding, of course?"
"Certainly not," was the reply, with great insolence.
"Very good, my Lord Ambassador. The Princess has the good taste to be of
opinion that nothing as beautiful as the skin of your fat cheeks is to
be found on earth, as its blackness is only to be equalled by its
lustre. Will you therefore have the goodness to see that a pair of
slippers is made of this precious material? If you prefer keeping your
skin for personal use, go home and tell your master so."
The Ambassador, who doubtless had his reasons for not wishing to have
his cheeks skinned, replied by getting away as quickly as he could,
followed by his five hundred negroes, and sailed from Naples without
further delay.
Punchinello was the object of innumerable demonstrations of friendship
from the King, who charged him to make any request he chose in return
for what he had done.
"Sire," said Punchinello, "I desire to be allowed to kiss the hand of
the Princess."
Every one marvelled at the tact of Punchinello. The Princess, smiling
joyfully, held out her hand to the happy little hunchback, who kissed
her four fingers, and then coming to the thumb, the ceremony was over.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
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