Caricature and Other Comic Art Part 26

In times less fierce, more pleasant, like to-day, Crosses are hung upon the thieves, they say."

Thus for centuries have Pasquino and his rival, Marfario, an exhumed river-G.o.d, given occasional expression to the pent-up wrath of Italy at the spoliation of their beautiful country. Mr. Story reports a pasquinade which appeared but a very few years since, when all the world was longing to hear of the death of Ferdinand II. of Naples, who, under the name of King Bomba, was so deeply execrated by Italians. Pasquino supposes a traveler just arrived from Naples, and asks him what he has seen there, when the following conversation takes place:

"I have seen a tumor [_tumore_]." "A tumor? But what is a tumor?" "For answer, take away the _t_." "Ah! a humor [_umore_]. But is this humor dangerous?" "Take away the _u_." "He dies! what a pity! But when?

Shortly?" "Take away the _m_." "Hours! In a few hours! But who, then, has this humor?" "Take away the _o_." "King! The king! I am delighted.

But, then, where will he go?" "Take away the _r_." "E-e-e-h!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: King Bomba's Ultimatum to Sicily. (From _Il Don Pirlone_, Rome, December, 1848.)]

Could there be any thing better than a pasquinade which appeared during the conference upon Italian affairs at Zurich between the representatives of Austria, Italy, and France? Pasquino enters the chamber, where he holds the following conversation with the plenipotentiaries:

"Do you speak French?" "No." "Do you speak German?" "No." "Do you speak Italian?" "No." "What language do you speak?" "Latin." "And what have you got to say in Latin?" "As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, for ever and ever. Amen."

Happily, Pasquino was not a prophet, and the affairs of Italy are not as they were and had been during so many ages of despair.

From these specimens of Italian satire we should expect to find the people of Italy effective with the satirical pencil also. The spirit of caricature is in them, but the opportunities for its exercise and exhibition have been few and far between. As in Spain there was an exhaustive depletion of intellectual force, so in Italy the human mind, during late centuries, has been crushed under a dead weight of priests.

Professor Charles Eliot Norton, in his "Travel and Study in Italy,"

tells us that Roman artists can not now so much as copy well the masterpieces by which they are surrounded.

"The utter sterility," he says, "and impotence of mind which have long been and are still conspicuous at Rome, the deadness of the Roman imagination, the absence of all intellectual energy in literature and in art, are the necessary result of the political and moral servitude under which the Romans exist. Where the exercise of the privileges of thought is dangerous, the power of expression soon ceases. For a time--as during the seventeenth century in Italy--the external semblance of originality may remain, and mechanical facility of execution may conceal the absence of real life; but by degrees the very semblance disappears, and facility of execution degenerates into a mere trick of the hand. The Roman artists of the present time have not, in general, the capacity even of good copyists. They can mix colors and can polish marble, but they are neither painters nor sculptors."

And yet (as the same author remarks) with the first breath of freedom the dormant capacity of the Italians awakes. In Italy, as in France, Spain, and Cuba, caricature dies when freedom is gone, and lives again as soon as the oppressor is removed. In 1848, when the Revolution had gained ascendency in Rome, a satirical paper appeared, called _Il Don Pirlone_, published weekly, and ill.u.s.trated by strong, though rudely executed, caricatures. Don Pirlone was the name of a familiar character in Italian comedy and farce. The pictures in this work abundantly justify the encomiums of Professor Norton and Mr. Story, who both p.r.o.nounce them to be full of spirit and vigor, proving that the satiric fire of the early pasquinades is not extinguished.

[Ill.u.s.tration: He has begun the Service with Ma.s.s, and completed it with Bombs. (From _Il Don Pirlone_, Rome, June 15th, 1849.)]

Among the specimens given in this chapter, the reader will not fail to notice the one that made its appearance in June, 1849, when thirty thousand French troops, under the command of General Oudinot, were about to replace upon the heart and brain of Rome the c.u.mbrous, fantastic Medicine-man of Christendom. This picture, slight as is the impression which it makes upon us, who can safely smile at the medicine-men of all climes and tribes, was most eagerly scanned by the outraged people of Rome, to whom the return of the Medicine-man boded another twenty years of asphyxia. _Don Pirlone_ was obliged to print extra editions to supply the demand. The picture exhibits the interior of a church, and the Pope celebrating ma.s.s; General Oudinot a.s.sists him, kneeling at the steps of the altar and holding up the pontifical robes. The bell used at the ma.s.s is in the form of an imperial crown. Surrounding the altar, a crowd of military officers are seen, and behind them a row of bayonets. The candles on the altar are in the form of bayonets. The time chosen by the artist is the supreme moment of the ma.s.s, when the celebrant elevates the host. The image of Christ on the crucifix has withdrawn its arms from the cross-bars, and covered its face with its hands, as if to shut the desecration from its sight. Lightning darts from the cross, and a hissing serpent issues from the wine-cup. On the sole of one of General Oudinot's boots are the words, _Articolo V. della Const.i.tuzione_ (Article V. of the Const.i.tution, _i. e._, the French Const.i.tution), which declared that "the French Republic never employs its forces against the liberty of any people." Underneath this fine caricature was printed: "He began the service with the ma.s.s, and completed it with bombs."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "But, dear Mr. Undertaker, are you so perfectly sure that she is dead?"--From _Il Don Pirlone_, Rome, July, 1849.]

Two weeks more of life were vouchsafed to _Il Don Pirlone_ after the publication of this caricature. On July 2d, 1849, the French army marched into Rome, and the paper appeared no more. The last number contained an engraving of Liberty, a woman lying dead upon the earth, with a c.o.c.k on a neighboring dunghill crowing, and a French general covering over the prostrate body. Under the picture was printed: "But, dear Mr. Undertaker, are you so perfectly sure that she is dead?"

These were certainly vigorous specimens of satiric art, and increase both our wonder and our regret at the mental degradation of the beautiful countries of Southern Europe. They increase our wonder, I say, because the ascendency of priests in a nation is more an effect than a cause of degeneracy. When the canker-worm takes possession of a New England orchard, and devours every germ and green leaf, covering all the trees with loathsome blight, it is not because the canker-worm there is more vigorous or deadly than on the next farm, but because the soil of the blasted orchard is wanting in some ingredient or condition needful for the vigorous life of fruit-trees. It is not priests, beggars, and banditti that _make_ Mexico, Peru, Italy, and Spain what we find them.

Priests, beggars, and banditti are but the vermin whose natural prey is a low moral and mental life; and hence the wonder that Italy, so long a prey to such, should still produce originating minds.

Other caricatures in _Il Don Pirlone_ were remarkable. The alliance between Austria and France in May, 1849, suggested a picture called "A Secret Marriage," which was also a church scene, the altar bearing the words "_Ad minorem Dei gloriam_" ("To the _lesser_ glory of G.o.d"), a parody of the words adopted by the Inquisition, "_Ad majorem Dei gloriam_." The Pope is marrying the bridal pair, who kneel at a desk--the groom, a French officer with a c.o.c.k's head, and for a crest an imperial crown; the bride, a woman with long robes, and on her head the Austrian double eagle. Upon the desk are an axe, a whip, a skull, and crossbones.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Bomba at Supper. Effect of Impressions. (From _Il Don Pirlone_, Rome, May, 1849.)]

Mr. Norton describes another, called the "Wandering Jew." "Flying to the verge of Europe, where the Atlantic washes the sh.o.r.es of Portugal, is seen the tall figure of the unhappy Carlo Alberto, driven by skeleton ghosts, over whose heads shine stars with the dates 1821, 1831, 1848. In the midst of the sky, before the fugitive, are the flaming words '_A Carignano Maledizione Eterna!_' ('Cursed be Carignano forever!') to which a hand, issuing from the clouds, points with extended forefinger.

The grim and threatening skeletons, the ghosts of those whom Carignano had betrayed, the tormented look of the flying king, the malediction in the heavens, the solitude of the earth and the sea, display a concentrated power of imagination rare in art."

The ruling theme of these powerful sketches is the foul union of priest and king for the common purpose of spoiling fair Italy. The moral of the work might be summed up in the remark of an Italian soldier whom Mr.

Norton met one day near Rome. "Are the roads quiet now?" asked the American traveler. "Ah, excellency," replied the man, "the poor must live, and the winter is hard, and there is no work!" "But how was the harvest?" "Small enough, signore! There is no grain at Tivoli, and no wine; and as for the olives, a thousand trees have not given the worth of a _bajocco_." "And what does the Government do for the poor?"

"Nothing, nothing at all." "And the priests?" "_Eh!_ They live well, always well; they have a good time in this world--but?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Such is the Love of Kings." (From _Il Don Pirlone_, Rome, 1849.)]

One striking picture in _Il Don Pirlone_ represents Italy in the form of a huge military boot lying prostrate on the earth, with Liberty half astride of it, holding a broom. She has just knocked off the boot a French general, who lies on the ground with his hat at some distance from him, and she has raised her broom to give a second blow. But at that critical moment, the Pope thrusts his hands from a cloud, seizes the broom, and holds it back. Inside the boot is seen ambushed a cardinal with two long daggers, waiting to strike Liberty to the heart when she shall be disarmed. Underneath is printed: "Impediments to Liberty."

In a similar spirit was conceived a picture called "A Modern Synod,"

which reflected upon the diplomatic conference in Belgium on Italian affairs between the representatives of Austria, France, and England.

There sits Italy in the council-chamber, bound and naked to the waist, for the scourge. At the table are seated, Austria, with head of double eagle; France, with a c.o.c.k's head and crest, but a woman's bosom and extremely low-necked dress; and England, with a head compounded of unicorn and donkey. Underneath the table are the Pope and King Bomba, with hidden scourges, only waiting for the conference to end to resume their congenial task of lashing helpless Italy.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Mr. Punch.]

A terrific picture is one representing the Pope with a scourge in his hand, riding high in the air over Rome, mounted upon a hideous flying dragon with four heads. One of the heads is Austria's double eagle; another, the Gallic c.o.c.k; the third, Spain; the fourth, Bomba. The papal crown is carried in the coil of the monster's forked tail. Under the picture are words signifying "Such is the love of kings!"

Imagine endless variations upon this theme in _Il Don Pirlone_, executed invariably with force, and sometimes with a power that, even at this distance of time, rouses the soul.

Laying aside the caricatures of the Revolution, of which considerable volumes have been collected, I may say a word or two of the comic entertainment that has now become universal, Punch, which, if Italy did not originate it, received there its modern form and character. Punch is now exhibited daily in every civilized and semi-civilized land or earth--in China, Siam, India, j.a.pan, Tartary, Russia, Egypt, everywhere.

A New York traveler, well known both for the extent of his journeys and for the excellent use he has made of them, tells me that he saw, not long ago, a performance of Punch at Cairo, in a tent, in Arabic, a small coin being charged for admission. The people entered with a grave demeanor, sat in rows upon the sand, listened to the dialogue without a smile, and at the close filed out in silence, as if from a solemnity.

The performance was similar to that with which we are acquainted. The American reader, however, may not be very familiar with the exploits of Punch, for he has made his way slowly in the New World, and was rarely, if ever, seen here until within the last ten years.

Much second-hand erudition could be adduced to show that Punch, besides being universal, dates back to remote antiquity. The bronze figure could be mentioned which was found at Herculaneum some years ago, with the Punchian nose and chin; as well as a drawing on the wall of a guard-house at Pompeii, in which there is a figure costumed like Punch.

Even the name Punch, which some derive from _Paunch_, is supposed by others to be a corruption of the first name of Pontius Pilate. The weight of probability favors the conjecture that Punch really did originate in India, at least three thousand years ago, and came down, through other Oriental lands, to Greece, part of the stock of traditions that gather about Bacchus and his comic audacities--jovial and impudent Vice triumphant over unskillful Virtue. Punch is a brother of Don Juan, except that Punch is victorious to the very end; and the fable of Don Juan is among the oldest of human imaginings.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Return of the Pope to Rome. (From _Il Don Pirlone_, Rome, 1849.)]

It is agreed, however, that the Punch of modern European streets is Neapolitan; and even to this day, as travelers report, nowhere in the world is the drama of Punch given with such force of drollery as in Naples. What Mr. D'Israeli, in the "Curiosities of Literature," where much Punch learning may be found, says of the histrionic ability of the Italian people, has been often confirmed since his day. He adds an incident:

"Perhaps there never was an Italian in a foreign country, however deep in trouble, but would drop all remembrance of his sorrows should one of his countrymen present himself with the paraphernalia of Punch at the corner of a street. I was acquainted with an Italian, a philosopher and a man of fortune, residing in England, who found so lively a pleasure in performing Punchinello's little comedy, that, for this purpose, with considerable expense and curiosity, he had his wooden company, in all their costume, sent over from his native place. The shrill squeak of the tin whistle had the same comic effect on him as the notes of the _ranz-des-vaches_ have in awakening the tenderness of domestic emotion in the wandering Swiss. The national genius is dramatic."

Through the joint labors of Mr. George Cruikshank and Mr. Payne Collier, we now know exactly what the Punchian drama is, as performed by the best artists. Mr. Cruikshank explains the truly English process by which this valuable information was obtained:

"Having been engaged by Mr. Prowett, the publisher, to give the various scenes represented in the street performances of Punch and Judy, I obtained the address of the proprietor and performer of that popular exhibition. He was an elderly Italian, of the name of Piccini, whom I remembered from boyhood, and he lived at a low public-house, the sign of 'The King's Arms,' in the 'Coal-yard,' Drury Lane. Having made arrangements for a 'morning performance,' one of the window-frames on the first floor of the public-house was taken out, and the stand, or Punch's theatre, was hauled into the 'Club-room.' Mr. Payne Collier (who was to write the description), the publisher, and myself, formed the audience; and as the performance went on, I stopped it at the most interesting parts to sketch the figures, while Mr. Collier noted down the dialogue; and thus the whole is a faithful copy and description of the various scenes represented by this Italian."

The drama thus obtained, which has since been published with Mr.

Cruikshank's ill.u.s.trations, must at least be p.r.o.nounced the most popular of all dramatic entertainments past or present. It is now in the thirtieth century of its "run;" and even the modern Italian version dates back to the year 1600. It is a rough, wild caricature of human life.

CHAPTER XXIII.

ENGLISH CARICATURE OF THE PRESENT CENTURY.

[Ill.u.s.tration: James Gillray.]

James Gillray, though the favorite caricaturist of London before the beginning of our century, did not reach the full development of his talent until the later extravagancies of Napoleon Bonaparte gave him subjects so richly suggestive of burlesque. Even at this late day, when we have it in our power to know the infinite mischief done to our race by such perjured charlatans as Bonaparte, it is difficult to read some of his bulletins and messages without bursts of laughter--the imitation of known models is so childish, and they reveal so preposterous an ignorance of every thing that the ruler of a civilized country ought to know. After giving London a long series of caricatures of the French Revolution and of the English fermentation that followed it, Gillray fell upon Napoleon, and exhibited the ludicrous aspects of the man and his doings with a comic fertility and effectiveness rarely equaled.

True, he knew very little either of the Revolution or of Bonaparte--England knew little--but while all well-informed and humane persons have forgiven the excesses of the Revolutionary period, or laid the blame at the door of the real culprits, the world is coming round to the view of Napoleon Bonaparte which the caricaturist gave seventy years ago. If I were asked to name the best five caricatures produced since Hogarth, one of the five would be James Gillray's "Tiddy-Doll, the Great French Gingerbread Baker drawing out a New Batch of Kings;" and another, a picture by the same artist, "King of Brobdingnag and Gulliver"

ridiculing Napoleon's scheme of invading England in 1803. Both are masterpieces of satiric art in what we may justly style the English style; _i. e._, the style which amuses every body and wounds n.o.body, not even the person satirized.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Tiddy-Doll, the Great French Gingerbread Baker, drawing out a New Batch of Kings. His Man, Hopping Talley, mixing up the Dough.

(Gillray, 1806.)]

Born in 1757, when Hogarth had still seven years to live, the son of a valiant English soldier who left an arm in Flanders, James Gillray belongs more to the old school of caricaturists than to the new. Many of his works could not now be exhibited; nor was Gillray superior in moral feeling to the time in which he lived. He flattered the pride and the prejudices of John Bull. In a deep-drinking age, his own habits were excessively convivial; were such as to shorten his life, after having impaired his reason. He was, nevertheless, for a period of twenty years the favorite caricaturist of his country, and a very large number of his works are in all respects admirable. The reader will remark that Gillray, like most of his countrymen, was not acquainted with the countenance of Napoleon, and could, therefore, only give the popularly accepted portrait. His likenesses generally are excellent.

Among the crowds of laughing English boys who hailed every new picture issued by Gillray during the last ten years of his career was one named George Cruikshank, still living and honored among his countrymen in 1877. Him we may justly style the founder of the new school--the virtuous school--of comic art, which accords so agreeably with the humaner civilization which has been stealing over the world of late years, and particularly since the suppression of Bonaparte in 1815. On page 270 is a picture of his executed in his eightieth year, a proof of the steadiness of hand and alertness of mind which reward a temperate and honorable life even in extreme old age. This picture was both drawn and engraved by his own hand to please one of his oldest American friends, Mr. J. W. Bouton, of New York, long concerned in collecting and distributing his works among us. Here, then, is a living artist whose first handling of the etching-tool dates back almost three-quarters of a century. Mr. Reid, the keeper of prints and drawings in the British Museum, has been at the pains to make a catalogue of the works of George Cruikshank. The number of entries in this catalogue is five thousand two hundred and sixty-five, many of which comprise extensive series of drawings, so that the total number of his pictures probably exceeds twenty thousand--about one picture for every working-day during the productive part of his career.