I.
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.
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!"
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.
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.
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."
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?"
"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.