CHAPTER V.
THE MORAL OF PUNCH'S PERFORMANCES, ETC.
Poetical justice is a matter upon which the most sagacious critics have insisted; and it cannot be denied that, in the ordinary exhibitions, which go by the name of "Punch and Judy," it is decidedly violated. One great object, as they contend, of dramatic poetry, ought to be to enforce a moral; and if we try the species of scenic representation now under our view by that test, we shall find it unquestionably deficient. It is nevertheless a point capable of dispute, whether people were ever made better or worse by theatrical performances; for instance, whether a single apprentice was ever deterred or reclaimed from vice by all the sombre repetitions of "George Barnwell," at Easter and Christmas. The old lawyer who used to send his clerks to witness every execution, with the admonition, "There, you rogues, go to school and improve,"[1] took a course which, from the reality of the sight, was likely to be beneficial: but everybody is aware that what is shown at the theatres is nothing but an attempt to impose; and the audience rather sets itself against the endeavour, than is impressed and corrected by the moral. What, in the cant of the profession, is called "illusion," we are satisfied never exists; and the actors are no more believed to be the characters they represent, than the painted trees and castles of the scenery are supposed to consist of rustling foliage and substantial stone. Dr. Johnson says somewhere, that the actor who for a moment could believe that he was Macbeth, and really perpetrated the murders, would deserve to be hanged; and, we may add, that the audience would deserve it too, as accessories, for not interfering on behalf of poor Duncan, if they were persuaded that his life was in danger. We admire a landscape for its truth, as a copy from nature, not because we ever imagine that it is the actual view itself, compressed into the compass of some three feet of gilded frame: what we see on the stage is but a succession of views with moving figures, and we like them little or much in proportion as we approach our notions of reality; but always keeping the imitation perfectly distinct from the thing imitated, and approving the former only because it is an imitation.
"Live o'er each scene, and be what we behold,"
is a very good line from Pope; but if there be any "Roman virtue" in the British character, it does owe it to "Cato;" and it is remarkable that it never was less apparent than at the time when that tragedy was oftenest represented: the littleness of party spirit was never more despicable, or more despicably displayed, than when "Cato" was first produced upon the stage.
As to the puppet-show of "Punch and Judy," it never is looked at by the lowest of the populace, but as a mere joke; and a most effective part of that joke is the ultimate triumph of the hero; without it, the representation would be not only "flat and stale," but "unprofitable." We have seen it so; for we remember a showman, on one occasion, not merely receiving little or no money, but getting lamentably pelted with mud, because, from some scruple or other, he refused to allow the victory over the Devil to Punch. Besides, it may surely deserve consideration, whether, wicked as Punch unquestionably is, the Devil is not the worse offender of the two, and, consequently, the more deserving of punishment. If so, poetical justice is satisfied.
We have before lamented that, as the performances of Punch in this country very much resemble the impromptu comedies of the Italians, no record exists of the dialogue, and, in few instances, of the course and series of the scenery; the fact, most likely, being, that both the one and the other were often altered to suit the convenience of the manager, or the temper and wishes of his auditory. We shall speak of some of these variations presently; and in the meantime, and before we lose sight of the connection between Don Juan and the personage, who may now be justly called Don Juan of the multitude, we wish to add in this place the only printed account we ever saw of the plot of one of Punch's exhibitions, and which differs from the story of any of the numerous shows we have witnessed. It is given as a sort of theatrical criticism in a letter from a watering-place, and was published in the "Morning Chronicle" of 22nd September, 1813. The narrative is as follows:—
"Mr. Punch, a gentleman of great personal attraction, is married to Mrs. Judy, by whom he has a lovely daughter, but to whom no name is given in this piece, the infant being too young to be christened. In a fit of horrid and demoniac jealousy, Mr. Punch like a second Zeluco, strangles his beauteous offspring. Just as he has completed his dreadful purpose, Mrs. Judy enters, witnesses the brutal havoc, and exit screaming; she soon returns, however, armed with a bludgeon, and applies it to her husband's head, "which to the wood returns a wooden sound." Exasperated by jealousy and rage, Mr. Punch, at length, seizes another bludgeon, soon vanquishes his already weakened foe, and lays her prostrate at his feet; then, seizing the murdered infant and the expiring mother, he flings them both out of the window into the street. The dead bodies having been found, police officers enter the dwelling of Mr. Punch, who flies for his life, mounts his steed, and the author, neglecting, like other great poets, the confining unities of time and place, conveys his hero into Spain, where, however, he is arrested by an officer of the terrible Inquisition. After enduring the most cruel tortures with incredible fortitude, Mr. Punch, by means of a golden key, (a beautiful and novel allegory), opens his prison door and escapes. The conclusion of the affecting story is satirical, allegorical, and poetical. The hero is first overtaken by weariness and laziness, in the shape of a black dog, whom he fights and conquers; disease, in the disguise of a physician, next arrests him; but Punch "sees through the thin pretence," and dismisses the doctor with a few derogatory kicks. Death at length visits the fugitive, but Punch lays about his skeleton carcase so lustily, and makes the bones of his antagonist rattle so musically with a bastinado, that "Death his death's blow then received." Last of all comes the Devil; first, under the appearance of a lovely female, but afterwards in his own natural shape, to drag the offender to the infernal regions, in purgatory to expiate his dreadful crimes. Even this attempt fails, and Punch is left triumphant over Doctors, Death, and the Devil. The curtain falls amid the shouts of the Conqueror, who on his victorious staff lifts on high his vanquished foe."
We do not see, exactly, how the whole of such a plot could have been made out in a puppet show, and we cannot avoid thinking, that this critic, like many others, has here found out "meanings never meant," and which could never have entered the head of any ordinary exhibitor.[2] With the exception of the skeleton, all the other characters are familiar; and only supposing that the writer has a little disturbed the ordinary course of the events, for his own purpose of making out "more than meets the ear" in an allegory, the whole is very easily explained and understood.
The disregard of the unities of Time and Place is common to all the exhibitions of Punch we ever saw or have heard of, in this or any other country; and it may be the boast of Italy, that, while her regular drama wore these burdensome and useless fetters, under the patronage of the higher classes and the learned, they were thrown off in her commedie à soggetto, under the patronage of the lower classes and the unlearned. It is not to be supposed, however, that in Italy the impromptu comedies filled by the various characters of Pulcinella, Harlequin, Scaramouch, the Doctor, and others, were exhibited only before the rabble of the community: the contrary might be satisfactorily established. The most dignified and the gravest not infrequently laid aside their dignity and their gravity; and, like Leo X., rejoiced in the broadest representations of the buffoons.[3] Dr. Moore, who wrote his "View of Society in Italy," 8vo., 1781, confesses that he and the Duke of Hamilton, going to the performance with all possible prejudices against it, were delighted: he especially dwells upon a most ludicrous scene, in which Harlequin made a stammerer bring out a word which had been sticking in his throat for a quarter of an hour, by striking him on the back, as nurses strike a choking infant.[4] We have since seen a refined French auditory laugh heartily at the very same incident, the only difference being, that Potier was not dressed as Harlequin, nor Brunet as Pulcinella.
At various periods, the adventures of Punch have been differently represented and misrepresented, and innovations have been introduced, to suit the taste and to meet the events of the day. One attempt of this sort was made in Fielding's time, in consequence of the extreme popularity of "the Provoked Husband." He complains ("Tom Jones," Book 12, chap. 5,) that a puppet-show, witnessed by his hero, included "the fine and serious part" of the comedy we have named. He then proceeds, from the mouth of Jones, to shew its inferiority to the old exhibition of Punch and his wife, (whom he miscalls Joan, by some strange forgetfulness, although her name has been Judy, as the lawyers say, "from time whereof the memory of man runneth not to the contrary,") which gives some offence to "the dancer of wires," who fancied, as he might do very reasonably, that "people rose from his little drama as much improved as they could do from the great."
Of later years, we have witnessed several singular interpolations. After the battle of the Nile, Lord Nelson figured on one of the street-stages, and held a dialogue with Punch, in which he endeavoured to persuade him, as a brave fellow, to go on board his ship, and assist in fighting the French: "Come, Punch, my boy, (said the naval hero,) I'll make you a captain or a commodore, if you like it."—"But I don't like it, (replied the puppet-show hero;) I shall be drowned."—"Never fear that, (answered Nelson;) he that is born to be hanged, you know, is sure not to be drowned." During one of the Elections for Westminster, Sir F. Burdett received equal honour, and was represented kissing Judy and the child, and soliciting Mr. Punch for his vote. "How are you, Mr. Punch? (enquired the Baronet,) I hope you will give me your support."—"I don't know, (answered Punch,) ask my wife. I leave all those things to Mrs. P."—"That is very right, (continued Sir Francis,) what do you say, Mrs. Judy? Bless me! what a sweet little child you have got, I wish mine were like it."—"And so they may be, Sir Francis, (observed Judy,) for you are very like my husband; you have got such a beautiful long nose."—"True, Mrs. Judy; but Lady B. is not like you, (added Sir Francis, kissing her.) A sweet little infant, indeed! I hope it has good health. How are its little bowels?"—"Charmingly, thank you," was the answer; and Judy could not refuse the solicitations of so gallant and kind-hearted a candidate.
At a country fair, we once saw a donkey-race represented by puppets with a great deal of spirit, and we need hardly add, that Mr. Punch[5] (though not always the most expert horseman) rode the winner, but was cheated out of the prize. It was no uncommon thing, among the showmen in eyre, to insert a scene of a street-row: for this purpose they introduce a watch-box with a Charley in it, fast asleep. Punch enters tipsy, overturns the "guardian of the night," and finally is taken to the watch-house. This incident is of "Tom and Jerry" origin, and was not used until those heroes figured in the pages of "Life in London." At various times, we have observed characters inserted from popular performances at our theatres: some of our readers may recollect a conference between Blue Beard and Punch, on the mutually interesting topic of a plurality of wives; and Morgiana from "The Forty Thieves," and Grimaldi from "Mother Goose," have danced together before us. We have been present at an interview between Punch and a person no less distinguished than Paul Pry, in which the latter received severe chastisement for "intruding," while the former was enjoying the delightful converse of one of his female acquaintances.
- ↑ Tom Brown's Works, vol. 4, p. 116.
- ↑ Casti, in his tale "La Pace di Pasquale," (Nov. 43, vol. 3, Edition 1804,) mentions a friar who had per le buffonerie raro talento, and who was able, especially, fare a maraviglia il Pulcinella. Mr. D'Israeli also speaks of "a philosopher and a man of fortune," of his acquaintance, who delighted in performing "Punchinello's little comedy." We know several instances of fathers, who, for the amusement of their families, go through the part of the puppet-show man. These individuals might have sufficient invention for such a fable, but still it would not be easy to represent it intelligibly by puppets.
- ↑ "To such an extreme was this propensity carried, that his courtiers and attendants could not more effectually obtain his favour than by introducing to him such persons as, by their eccentricity, perversity, or imbecility of mind, were likely to excite his mirth." Roscoe's Leo X. 4, 370, Edition 1827. This author is at a difficulty to account for this "propensity," which is easily explained on the principle of contrast. It is fortunate for his gravity that Punch and Judy were not invented in the time of Leo, "for the Pope would certainly have kept a puppet-show for his own private amusement.
- ↑ Vol. I. p. 258.
- ↑ See Act 2, Scene 2, of the "Tragical Comedy of Punch and Judy," where the hero is thrown by his horse, Hector.