A History of Pantomime

by R. J. Broadbent

It may be of interest in this History of Pantomime to note the origin of some of our most popular present day Pantomime subjects, besides showing many of our present day Pantomime libretto writers that in such well-known themes as "Aladdin," "Cinderella," and others, there is no need to cast their stories pretty much in the same groove, year after year, when by drawing on the fairy-lore of the East much that is new and original, for present-day English Pantomimes, is waiting the attention of their skill and ingenuity.

Though the stories of popular English Pantomimes are practically the same each year (why I do not know), yet, not content with this, in many of our large cities and towns we frequently see the same Pantomime title not only "billed" at one theatre, but perhaps at several others. This clashing and clashing year after year with one another's titles (I say nothing about the "plots," as these, in many instances, only consist of a half-penny worth of author to an intolerable deal of music-hall gag), cannot but, I have long been of opinion, adversely affect the box-office receipts, unless, of course, the Pantomime-goer makes a point of "doing the round," so to speak, which, however, is not generally the case.

As Pantomime writers in the early days there were Thomas Dibdin, son of Charles Dibdin, the writer of nautical ballads, Pocock and Sheridan. Dibdin was one of the best of Pantomime librettists, and from the years 1771 to 1841 his prolific pen, as a writer of Pantomimes, was never idle, as from it came some thirty-three Pantomimes, and all successes. Amongst other literary luminaries, in after years, as writers of Pantomime Extravaganzas, there were J.R. Planché, E.L. Blanchard, W. Brough, Mark Lemon, H.J. Byron, Wilton Jones, and John Francis McArdle.

History always repeats itself we know, and poor Pantomime books were not unknown as far back as half a century ago, as the subjoined parody on the "Burial of Sir John Moore," by the late Albert Smith plainly shows:—

Not a laugh was heard, not a topical joke,
As its corse to oblivion we hurried;
Not a paper a word in its favour spoke
On the Pantomime going to be buried.
We buried it after the Boxing Night,
The folks from the galleries turning;
For 'twas plain it would scarcely pay for the light
Of the star in the last act burning.
No useless play-bill put forth a puff,
How splendid the public had found it,
But it lay like a piece that had been called "stuff,"
With a very wet blanket around it.

After this digression for one brief moment more, let us take a passing glance at some of the Pantomime subjects which our progenitors delighted in. They had not the continual ringing of the changes on half-a-dozen Pantomime subjects, as we have at present, but revelled in such attractions as "Harlequin Don Quixote," "The Triumph of Mirth, or Harlequin's Wedding," "The Enchanted Wood or Harlequin's Vagaries," "Hurly Burly, or the Fairy of the Wells," "Blue Beard, Black Beard, and Grey Beard," and many others. However, to return.

Of the Pantomime subjects, whose origin we are going to enquire into, let us first commence with "Aladdin."

According to the many versions of this popular story in Europe and Asia, it would seem that its origin originally was of Buddhist extraction. In our common English version of "Aladdin," in "The Arabian Nights," which was taken from Galland's French version, it is doubtless an Eastern picture. It does not occur, however, in any known Arabian text (says Mr. Clouston, in "Popular Tales," and to whose work I am indebted for much of the information for this chapter) of "The Thousand and One Nights" (Elf Laila wa Laila), although the chief incidents are found in many Asiatic fictions, and it had become orally current in Greece and Italy before it was published by Galland. A popular Italian version, which presents a close analogy to the familiar story of "Aladdin" (properly "Alá-u-d-Din," signifying "Exaltation of the Faith") is given by Miss M.H. Busk, in her "Folklore of Rome," under the title of "How Cajusse was married."

A good natured looking old man one day knocks at the door of a poor tailor out of work; his son, opening the door, is told by the old man that he is his uncle, and he gives him half a piastre to buy a good dinner. When the tailor comes home—he was absent at the time—he is surprised to hear the old man claim him as a brother, but finding him so rich he does not dispute the matter. After the old man had lived some time with the tailor and his family, literally defraying all the household expenses, he finds it necessary to depart, and with the tailor's consent takes the boy Cajusse with him, in order that he may learn some useful business. But no sooner do they get outside the town than he tells Cajusse that it is all a dodge. "I'm not your uncle," he says, "I want a strong, daring boy to do something I am too old to do. I'm a wizard—don't attempt to escape for you can't." Cajusse, not a bit frightened, asks him what it is he wants him to do; and the wizard raises a flat stone from the ground, and orders him to go down, and after he gets to the bottom of the cave to proceed until he comes to a beautiful garden, where he will see a fierce dog keeping watch. "Here's bread for him. Don't look back when you hear sounds behind you. On a shelf you will see an old lantern; take it down, and bring it to me." So saying the wizard gave Cajusse a ring, in case anything awkward should happen to him after he had got the lantern, when he had only to rub the ring, and wish for deliverance. Cajusse finds precious stones hanging like frost from the trees in the garden underground, and he fills his pocket with them. Returning to the entrance of the cave, he refuses to give up the lantern till he has been drawn out; so the wizard thinking merely to frighten him replaces the stone. Cajusse finding himself thus entrapped rubs the ring, when instantly the Slave of the Ring appears, and the youth at once orders the table to be laid for dinner. He then calls for his mother and father, and they all have an unusually good meal. Some time afterwards, Cajusse had returned home, the town was illuminated, one day in honour of the marriage of the Sultan's daughter to the Vizier's son. He sends his mother to the palace with a basket of jewels, and, to demand the Sultan's daughter in marriage. The Sultan is astounded at the purity of the gems, and says he will give his answer in a month. At the end of the same week the Grand Vizier's son is married to the Princess. Cajusse rubs his lantern and says "Go to-night and take the daughter of the Sultan and lay her on a poor pallet in our outhouse." This is done, and Cajusse begins to talk to her, but she is far too frightened to answer. The Sultan learns of his daughter's whereabouts, and does not know what to make of the strange business. The son of the Vizier complains to his father that his wife disappears every night, and comes back just before dawn. Cajusse now sends his mother to the Sultan with three more baskets full of jewels, and the Sultan tells her he may come and see him at the palace. Having received this message, Cajusse rubs the lantern, gets a dress of gold and silver, a richly caparisoned horse, four pages with rich dresses to ride behind them, and one to go before, distributing money to the people. Cajusse is next married to the Princess, and they live together in a most magnificent palace with great happiness. By-and-bye the old wizard hears of this, and resolves to obtain the lantern by hook or by crook. Disguising himself as a pedlar he comes to the palace calling out the familiar "New lamps for old." By this means he obtains the precious lamp, and immediately transports the palace and the princess to an island in the high seas. Cajusse, by the aid of the magic ring, quickly follows, to find his princess a prisoner in the power of the wizard. He then gives her this advice: "Make a feast to-night; say you'll marry the old wizard if he'll tell you what thing would be fatal to him, and you will guard him against it." The princess gets from the magician the fatal secret. "One must go into a far distant forest," he says "Where there is a beast called the hydra, and cut off his seven heads. If the middle head is split open a leveret will jump out and run off. If the leveret is split open, a bird will fly out. If the bird is caught and opened, in its body is a precious stone, and should that be placed under my pillow I shall die." Cajusse accomplishes all these things, and gives the life-stone to the princess, together with a bottle of opium. The princess drugs the wizard's wine, and when he had laid his head on his pillow (under which was the stone) he gave three terrible yells, turned himself round three times, and was dead. After thus ridding themselves of their enemy, Cajusse and his bride lived happy ever afterwards.

Aladdin's adventure with the magician in the enchanted cave has also its counterpart in Germany (see Grimms' German Collection).