The private puppet-actors in Italy indulge in political allusions, to the delight of an audience invited for the express purpose of enjoying satirical allusions against the Government. In Florence, the private companies are remarkable for their coarseness, to which they who pay for the same do not object. In Milan, the fool of the puppet-stage is invariably a native of Turin; while among the Piedmontese puppets, the fool of the farce and the villain of the melodrama are of course of Lombard origin.
The Spanish puppets are of Italian derivation. Torriani invented many in order to amuse Charles V. in his retirement among the monks of St. Just. These were so clever that the brotherhood suspected the artist of being leagued with evil powers; but the uses to be drawn from these figures were so apparent, that the Church of Spain employed them largely in the working of miracles. The modern prince of puppets, our friend Punch, never got thoroughly naturalized in Spain. The fact is, the unscrupulous fellow is of Neapolitan descent; and since Naples revolted against the Spanish government, Pulcinello is looked upon as a very dangerous person. Seneca, on the other hand, being a native of Cordova, is a great favourite. His history is faithfully represented, with an addition that reminds one of the new act put by the modest M. Dumas to one William Shakspeare’s tragedy of Hamlet. This addition consists in the ascent of the heathen philosopher to heaven; where, at the feet of the figure of the Saviour, he recites the creed, and professes himself a Christian.
After all, this is not more absurd than the act of that Pope who converted Trajan to Christianity three hundred years after that Emperor’s death; and who had nearly canonized him to boot, in spite of the remonstrance of the astounded College of Cardinals.
Although Punch was not originally French, he has always been greatly esteemed in France. He was a highly honoured puppet, as the registers of the royal treasury certify; ex. gr., “Paid to Brioché, the puppet-player, for sojourning at St. Germain-en-Laye, during September, October, and November, 1669, to divert the royal children, 1365 livres.” The royal children of France must have had enough of this sort of amusement, the Dauphin particularly, who had already had two months of puppet-playing before Brioché came, as is shown by the same registry:—“Paid to François Daitelin, puppet-player, for the fifty-six days he remained at St. Germain, to amuse Monseigneur le Dauphin (July and August, 1669), 820 livres.”
Bossuet, the Dauphin’s tutor, persecuted both puppets and Protestants, which, and especially the latter, were reckoned for a time among the things that were reprobate and abominable. Brioché himself was suppressed; but he had friends at court; and the King, who would execute a Protestant for preaching, signed a decree which authorized the mountebank to continue playing. Due gratitude was shown in return; and among the favourite pieces represented at the famous fairs of St. Germain and St. Laurent, was ‘The Destruction of the Huguenots.’
The puppet-plays at the fairs in Paris were got up with much magnificence, and were wittily written,—but with as much indecency as wit; particularly during the last years of Louis XIV. and the time of the Regent. The puppets alone had full liberty of speech, when every other sort of liberty was extinct. Le Sage and Piron, as I have said, wrote pieces expressly for them. And while plays in France were acted in puppet-shows, puppet-shows in England were introduced into plays. Of this the ‘Bartholomew Fair’ of Jonson is a sufficient example. The vogue of the French puppets is proved by the fact that the Regent Duke of Orléans, with his company of roués, often remained in the fair till long after midnight, to witness representations where the coarser the wit the more it was enjoyed.
All the chefs-d’œuvre of the French stage were immediately parodied on the puppet-boards; and saving the license of speech, the parody was often superior to the original. It was so attractive that the regular actors complained, and sought for the suppression of their wooden rivals. But Punch and his brethren pleaded for their ancient privilege, “de parler et de p⸺r.” The plea was held good, and the puppets triumphed over the Thespians. The quarrel being a family one, it was of course carried on with undying hostility. The puppet-players took every opportunity of ridiculing the extravagances of the more serious stage. When the custom of calling for “the author” of a successful new piece was established, upon the example set of calling for Voltaire after the first representation of ‘Merope,’ the puppets availed themselves of the opportunity for caricaturing. “Le compère pressait Polichinelle de lui faire entendre une de ses œuvres; et après avoir reçu une réponse très-incongrue, le compère s’empressait de demander l’auteur! l’auteur! satisfaction que s’empressait de lui donner Polichinelle, aux grands éclats de rire de l’assemblée.”
The contrast with this will call up but a ghastly smile when we find that while the crowd on the Place Louis XV. was waiting to witness the execution of the King, Punch was being serio-comically guillotined in one corner of the square, to the great delight of the spectators. Indeed the ‘Vieux Cordelier’ tells us, that Punch daily filled up the intervals of executions; and so varied the pleasures of the humane but impatient multitude. But what neither the ‘Vieux Cordelier,’ nor M. Magnin tells us, is the fate of this very Punch, or rather of the man and his wife who exhibited the popular puppet. Their fate is recorded by the Marquis de Custine. Punch, it appears, ventured on some jokes against the Terrorists. His master and mistress were thereupon seized. They bore their brief imprisonment with heroism, and they were executed on the spot whereon had perished their sovereign and queen.
The puppets went down in the general hurricane of the Revolution, and they only partially came again to the surface. To their ancient shows on the Boulevard du Temple has succeeded a line of theatres; and the chief resulting difference is, that very awkward men and women now enact the most sacred subjects where puppets once did the same office less revoltingly.
If a popular movement finally declared that the puppet dynasty had ceased to reign, it was a despotic will that abolished the use of such effigies in church spectacles. Louis XIV., on witnessing one of those sights at Dieppe, was so shocked thereat that he ordered their general suppression. The French word for puppet, Marionnette, applied originally only to figures of the Virgin Mary; but, like the Catrinette of the little Savoyard, it has ceased to have an exclusive application.