ITALIAN COMEDY AND THE THEATRES OF THE FAIR
Humanity, like history, repeats itself in its recurring moods.
Some years ago London playgoers went rather mad over what was
a comparatively new thing to that period, the production of a
delightful play without words, namely, MM. Carré and Wormser’s
“L’Enfant Prodigue,” acted to perfection by a cast headed by Mlle.
Jane May, as Pierrot, with Mlle. Zanfretta as Pierrette.
About two thousand years ago the playgoers of ancient Rome began
to go mad about what was _then_ thought to be a really new
thing--pantomime acting without words.
The two pantomimists, Bathyllus and Pylades, then set a standard in
mimetic representation never achieved before. The two Roman actors
were “dancers,” but it was because they were panto-mimes of such
brilliant quality that they became famous. Had they been merely
dancers they would hardly have made the impression they did.
The modern ballet-dancer--as we understand the word--knows, or should
know, that dancing without the ability to mime is not enough to win
the fame of a Taglioni, a Grisi, Génée or Karsavina, in ballet.
In opera a voice of the loveliest tone, together with an acquired
technical excellence in the use of it, has not the power to move the
hearers if _expression_ is lacking. _It is the art of the mime which
gives expression and significance to the art of the dancer_; and it
was as dancer-mimes that Pylades and Bathyllus moved their audience
to something like worship.
It is, of course, a pretence, this doing without words. I say
“pretence” because you cannot do away with words. You may have a
“wordless” play, but behind the dumb-show there are still the words.
It is so in life. Behind all things is--the Word. Things are only
representative of thoughts; and thoughts are inconceivable without
words. We may not always speak with tongue and voice; but, if we have
the impulse to speak, the instrument matters not, and we may “speak”
with our hands. So doing, a look or gesture becomes a word, a series
of gestures a sentence.
Now, in ancient Roman days when the ordinary spoken comedy merged
first into a sort of musical comedy, and then, at the dawn of the
Christian era, into unspoken comedy or pantomime; and when, in
addition, all the Greek plays and stories of the Greek and Latin
myths were drawn upon for pantomime, some of the original characters
stayed and others were incorporated in the general make-up of the
purely wordless play as this form of entertainment grew increasingly
popular; and among the new-comers was probably Mercury, who became a
sort of Harlequin, with gift of invisibility and magic wand.
The _spoken_ comedy of ancient Rome becoming superseded, first by
the pantomimes and secondly by the craze for the circus, finally
died down with the fall of the Empire itself, and did not revive
for some hundreds of years, until the world’s great reawakening, in
the Middle Ages, to the wonders of the classic past. But it is more
than probable that this dumb comedy, or _panto-mime_, any more than
dancing, _did not die_.
In Sicily and Southern Italy more especially it would have survived;
for expressive pantomime was always as much a means of speech among
the Southern Latins as verbal language itself.
In the old Latin Comedy the same set of characters were often made
to appear in other guises, and in different comic situations. Maccus,
for instance, though still called so, would appear at one time as an
old maid, at another as a raw soldier: Pappus would be a doting old
husband, or father whose daughter was abducted: and he was usually
outwitted whatever the situation he was in. These and various other
types, and this custom of making them each a kind of “quick-change”
artist, survived, or at least revived.
In Italy, as time went by, various local types were added to the
original cast of the pantomime. The old man would be a Venetian; the
Doctor, from Bologna, famous for its University and--poisons; the
Clown would be a peasant-servant from Bergamo; the braggart soldier,
a “Capitan,” would be from Spain; sometimes they would each speak
in their own particular dialect, and fun would be made thereof.
Throughout the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries the
fame of the Italian comedians spread throughout the world.
Troupes found their way to Paris and London, and no slight traces
of their influence are to be found in Shakespeare and Molière.
Pre-Shakespearean comedy in England was often impromptu and
pantomimic; and the actors worked much as the Italian players had
always done.
In 1611 a well-known Italian comedian, Flaminio Scala, printed a book
of plays performed by his company. _There was no dialogue!_ They were
simply something like what we know as “plots,” though the French
word “_canevas_” expresses it better. It was merely the outline of
the play, entrances, exits, “business” written on canvas and hung
up in the wings as a reminder to the actors, who “gagged” the play
throughout, each usually introducing his own stock tricks or business
(_lazzi_ was the Italian word) as the play proceeded. In one of the
Flaminio Scala’s plots we find a Pantalon, a Dottore or Doctor, a
Captain (a braggart such as Pistol), a Pedrolino, later to become
better known to us after various changes of spirit as Pierrot.
In seventeenth- and eighteenth-century Paris the Italian players had
a sensational success, being honoured by Louis XIV and his successor;
and were regularly introduced into the lighter operas, were copied by
the players in the Paris Fair Theatres, and were often the subject of
the brush of Watteau and other artists.
In a little volume I have, _Le Théâtre Italien_ (published 1695), by
the famous actor, Evariste Gherardi, the author explains that “the
reader must not expect to find in this book entire comedies, because
the Italian plays could not be printed, for the simple reason that
the players learn nothing by rote, and it suffices for them merely
to have seen the subject of the comedy a moment before stepping on
the stage.” He says that “the charm of the pieces is inseparable from
the action, and their success depends wholly on the actors, who _play
from imagination rather than from memory, and compose their comedy
while playing_.”
Among the titles of the plays we find: “Arlequin, Emperor in the
Moon”; “Colombine, Advocate”; “Arlequin Proteus”; “Arlequin Jason”;
“The Cause of Woman”; “Divorce”; and “Arlequin, Man of Fortune.”
In most we find Arlequin assuming various disguises--“_Arlequin
en More_,” “_Arlequin deguisé en Baron_,” “_Arlequin deguisé en
Comtesse_” being among stage directions, for instance, to “The Cause
of Woman.”
By the early eighteenth century the leading characters had
become Arlequin, Pantalon, Punchinello, the Doctor, the Captain,
Scaramouche, Scapin, Leandre, and Mezzetin; and women had become
incorporated in the generally enlarged cast, the chief being
Isabelle, Octavie and Colombine.
Reference has already been made to the Duchesse du Maine, who in
1708 revived the art of pure pantomime by producing an act of
Corneille’s “Horace,” which was performed entirely in dumb show by
the dancer-mimes, Mdlle. Prévôt and Monsieur Ballon, to music by
Mouret.
Soon after, Nivelon, and other dancers who were also mimes, such as
Sallé, began to come to London; and in the early eighteenth century
was seen the birth of the first real English _pantomime_, which bore
some resemblance to that of ancient Rome, owed something to the
Italian comedy and to the more recent French theatre, with certain
new ideas of its own--especially in the way of costume and elaborate
staging. This was due to the enterprise of John Rich.
By Rich’s time Arlequin had become the all-important character of
the French comedy-stage, and he followed a then recent custom (also
the ancient Latin custom) of placing one character in various sets
of circumstances. His first production at the Lincoln’s Inn Fields
Theatre in 1717 was “Harlequin Sorcerer,” which was followed by
several others with Harlequin as the hero. Their form was always
much the same. A serious, classic or fabulous story, such as one
from Ovid, was the basis of the work; while between the serious
scenes, and partly woven into them, ran a lighter story, consisting
mainly of Harlequin’s courtship of Columbine, with interference from
other characters, on whom in turn Harlequin played tricks with his
magic wand. Rich played Harlequin, and made him dumb, for the simple
reason that, though a clever actor, he could not speak well enough
for the stage. Thus he gave us once again the ancient classic art of
pantomime, which now became the true wordless English Harlequinade;
and he taught his players of the other parts, Pantaloon, Pierrot,
Clown, Columbine, an art of wordless acting equal to his own. He
realised the value of fine mounting, and his productions were
gorgeously staged and almost invariably successful.
It would be interesting, of course, to trace with some detail the
history of Italian comedy and its influence on the French and English
stage; indeed, to go fully into the vexed question of its origin.
Certain modern scholars, such as Miss Winifred Smith in her extremely
able and interesting volume on the _Commedia dell’ Arte_, issued by
the Columbia University of America, holds the view that it was _not_
derived from the classic stage at all, but was a spontaneous growth
of fifteenth-century Italy.
Another view is that there was an unbroken thread of tradition from
Greece, through Sicily and the Greek settlements in south-eastern
Italy, and that when the _Commedia_ attained its great vogue in
the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, spreading through Italy
and thence through western Europe, the charm and complexity of its
texture was due to the numerous strands that had been gathered up
from various localities in the progress of years.
Yet another possibility is, that this central idea of pantomime, or
dumb acting, may merely have occurred again and again through the
centuries, as a “new” idea, without direct impulse from tradition.
Personally I feel that acting _without_ words implies a greater
technical advance in the art of representation than acting _with_
them, for it makes the actor more than merely repeater, or even
interpreter, of an author; _it makes him partly creator, or author_.
It is impossible, however, to go fully now into the question of the
origin of the art of pantomime. Whatsoever diverse theories students
may hold, the fact remains that it _was_ known in classic days, and
that the form of it which we know under the Italian title of the
_Commedia dell’ Arte_ flourished in the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries, and certainly had its influence on the French and English
stage, literature and art, and also on Ballet.
The Duchesse du Maine in her pantomime production of Corneille’s
“Horace” was deliberately harking back to a form of entertainment
which she believed had held the classic stage; and the production
was not without effect on the history of Ballet. The appearance of
Italian pantomime actors in Paris had additional influence.
Look at some of the pictures of Watteau, Lancret and Fragonard. You
will see there the types of the Italian Comedy; turn to the scores
of the opera-ballets of the early eighteenth century and you will
note that, more often than not, the Italian players were introduced;
just as we to-day, in our _revues_, have introduced Russian dancers,
or English players impersonating, or parodying, the Russians--simply
because the Russians have in recent years attained a vogue similar
to that attained by Italian singers in the ’forties of last century,
and to that attained by the Italian comedy troupes of two centuries
ago. These things are introduced into current dramatic productions
just because they have their vogue, just because they are “topical.”
Equally they influence art and literature.
Even the French critics seem hardly to have realised the extent to
which French art of the early eighteenth century was influenced
by the contemporary stage. All can see, of course, that it _was_
influenced, to the extent of introducing the types of Italian comedy.
One has only to glance at Watteau’s “L’Amour au Théâtre Italien” to
see that patent fact. But the fact also that, except for his earlier
landscapes and camp scenes, several of Watteau’s pictures were, in
all probability, _derived from ballets actually seen_ on the French
stage seem to have been overlooked.
One of the earlier works attributed to Watteau is a picture
representing the “Departure of the Italian Comedians.” The engraving
of it by L. Jacob in the wonderful Jullienne collection of engravings
from Watteau’s works plainly gives the date of the incident as 1697.
Watteau, however, did not arrive from Valenciennes to take up his
abode in Paris until after 1702, when he came to reside and work
with Claude Gillot, the engraver.
So either this seems a mistake on Jullienne’s part, or the picture is
not by Watteau, but is worked up from sketches and descriptions by
Gillot or some other person who was an eyewitness of the incident;
for it is quite obvious that Watteau cannot have seen what took place
in Paris before he arrived there, and when he was only thirteen years
old, as he would have been in 1697.
Let us turn aside for a while from this minor problem and consider
who, exactly, were these Italian comedians. From the sixteenth
century, in 1570 as a fact, when Catherine de Medici invited a
company of Italian players to Paris, there had been several troupes
arriving from time to time, under Court patronage. One of the
earliest of importance came in 1576, and were known as _Gli Gelosi_,
_Les Jaloux_, that is, according to one authority, folk jealous of
pleasing; though they may also have been so called from the fact that
they achieved their success first in a comedy of that name, _Gli
Gelosi_, or _Les Jaloux_.
Nearer the dates which are our concern was Fiorelli’s troupe, which
in 1660 was properly established at the Palais Royal, where they
played alternately with Molière’s company, and received the title of
“_Comédiens du Roi de la troupe Italienne_.”
In 1684 it was established by order of the Dauphin that the troupe
should always be composed of twelve members, four women and eight
men, made up as follows: two women for “serious _rôles_,” two for
comic, two men for lovers, two for comic parts, two “_pour conduire
l’intrigue_,” and two to play fathers and old men generally. These
kept the traditional names respectively of: Isabelle, Eularia;
Columbine, Marinette; Octave, Cinthio; Scaramouche, Arlequin;
Mezzetin, Pascariel; Pantalon, and the Doctor.
In 1697, however, the Italian comedians, who by now had begun to
develop, from the _Commedia dell’ Arte_, or purely improvised dumb
show play of an earlier period into a more or less written “literary”
comedy, had the audacity to produce under the title of “La Fausse
Prude,” a play, the title of which seemed to suggest foundation on a
novel (published in Holland) which had attacked the King’s mistress,
Madame de Maintenon. For this they were banished, and were not
recalled to Royal favour until 1716.
Hence the problem of deciding Watteau’s connection with the painting
of an incident that occurred in 1697, five years before he _can_
have reached Paris; and also of “placing” the rest of his avowedly
theatrical pictures, when apparently the Italian comedians were
not to be seen, or if seen, _not until 1716_; thus giving Watteau
only five years before his death in 1721 to account for the fairly
extensive collection of works dealing expressly with these stage
types.
Speaking of the period shortly after Watteau arrived in Paris, one
critic has declared (though it in no way lessens the value of his
decisions concerning Watteau’s art): “Indeed, during these early
years Watteau could have had no opportunity of studying the Italian
comedy, otherwise than through the works of his new preceptor and
friend”: this “preceptor and friend” being, of course, Gillot, by
whose enthusiasm for the stage Antoine’s own was unquestionably
awakened.
The same writer goes on to say: “It can hardly be doubted that from
him--and not, as legend has it, from the stage itself--Watteau
obtained his first peep into the strange realms of the _Commedia
dell’ Arte_.”
But the plain fact is that there was every opportunity, despite this
earlier banishment of the Royal troupe of Italian comedians, for
Watteau to have obtained not only his first peep into the realms of
the _Commedia dell’ Arte_ and to have been influenced throughout his
Paris life, especially by Ballet.
From the time Antoine reached the city in 1702 until his death in
1721 there were four marked opportunities for stage influence,
namely, the legitimate and royally patronised French comedians; the
Opera, still flushed with Lulli’s magic, and not despicably illumined
by Campra; the Ballet, then finding wings to soar; and finally,
the Theatres of the Fair, which, with their gay quarrel against
authority, with their reckless parodies and splendid spectacles, have
been strangely neglected by Watteau’s biographers as a contributory
influence on his choice of subject.
Let us consider first the Theatres of the Fairs. The fairs
themselves, of St. Germain and St. Laurent, were of ancient
institution, and from early times they had their side-shows of
tumblers, rope-dancers, trained animals, such as performing bears,
monkeys, and white mice, as well as balladists and marionettes, which
were the chief attraction by the middle of the seventeenth century.
Towards the end of the century each Fair had one or more troupes
of actors, especially Italian, who played improvised pieces in
dumb-show, as well as written farces, vaudevilles and parodies in
Italian, French, and sometimes a mixture of both languages. These
troupes were quite apart from those which from time to time had been
brought from Italy by special invitation from the French Court.
It was the Royal Troupe _only_ that was expelled in 1697, for its
performance of “La Fausse Prude”; and it was really their expulsion
which aroused the Theatres of the Fair to a new and more vigorous
life.
[Illustration: The Departure of the Italian Comedians, 1697
(_From an engraving by L. Jacob of Watteau’s picture_).]
[Illustration: Pierrot and Arlequin in the early 18th Century
(_From Riccoboni’s “Histoire du Théâtre Italien”_).]
The Fair of St. Germain was open from February 3rd to Easter Sunday;
the Fair of St. Laurent began at the end of June and closed in
October, so that for the greater part of the year both offered
opportunities for amusement of a less expensive and more popular sort
than did the aristocratic Comédie Française and Comédie Italienne;
in fact, so popular were they that, on suppression of the Comédie
Italienne, the aristocracy themselves patronised the foreign troupes
of the Theatres of the Fair.
From the dawn of the eighteenth century, however, this very
popularity became a source of worry to the managers of the troupes
at the Fairs, for it involved the jealousy of the Comédie Française
and the still youthful Opera; and the attempts of grandiose Authority
to smother these minor theatres (which had public sympathy wholly
on their side) and the amazing resource shown by their managers in
meeting each fresh legal thunderbolt by some new and more hilarious
evasion, is a veritable comedy in itself, but must not detain us
now. All we need to consider at the moment is that, despite attempts
to suppress them there _were_ these troupes, at the Theatres of the
Fair, from before 1702, when Watteau came to Paris, until after 1721,
the date of his death.
There was the troupe of Madame Jeanne Godefroy, widow of Maurice Von
der Beck, from 1694 to 1709; that of Christopher Selles, from 1701
to 1709; that of Louis Nivelon (who, by the way, was a theatrical
visitor to London), from 1707 to 1771; that of Saint-Edmé from 1711
to 1718; and, most important of all, that of Constantini, known as
Octave, from 1712 to 1716.
Thus from the time he arrived in Paris Watteau could, for a few
pence, have seen any of these companies, and in view of the fact
that the first thing any young man up from the country usually does
is to see the “sights” of the town, and more especially in view of
the fact that soon after his arrival Watteau was in the studio of
Gillot--popular engraver of such popular subjects, and himself a
lover of the stage--what was more probable than that Antoine _did_
include the Theatres of the Fair among the sights he saw, and so was
influenced to choose, as some of the earlier subjects of his brush,
the Italian players he _could_ see there.