CHAPTER II

The Marionette—Its Famous Friends

Every person is proud of his famous friends. If we know a great artist, engineer, or traveler, we think we are fortunate. Can you imagine having so many famous friends that you could not count them? This has been the good fortune of marionettes. The names of all their Egyptian friends seem to be lost. But it is not so with their Grecian friends. Archimedes, Socrates, and Plato are the names of three famous friends that have come down to us. Archimedes, the greatest inventor of his time, liked puppets, it is said, because he could devise so many clever ways of making them move and appear human. Socrates probably cared nothing for the mechanism. He enjoyed taking a puppet in his own hands, asking it clever questions, and then furnishing the equally clever answers. These most unusual conversations would soon gather about him a crowd of Athenian men and women, who were greatly interested in his humor, irony, and whimsical paradoxes. The dialogues would probably go on and on until his scolding wife, Xantippe, appeared. Plato also cared little for their mechanism, but like his great master, Socrates, was interested only when they were made to talk about the very serious things of life, or when he saw them representing the gods and heroes in the beautiful scenes of the plays given on the small stages built for them in one part of the great theaters.

Kings and queens were among the famous Roman friends of puppets. You may remember that puppets were found in the tomb of the Empress Marie and that the Emperor Antiochus cared so much for them that he neglected the affairs of his great empire. He had clever puppet makers as part of his royal household, and delighted in planning the plays they were to give. He designed the stage settings, and he sometimes assisted the royal puppeteers.

In India, China, and Japan, the great rulers were greatly interested in puppets, and required their presence at court.

One of the most interesting stories of a royal friend of the marionettes is that of the Emperor Charles V of Spain. This strange ruler’s reason was clouded. His devoted minister tried in many ways to divert his beloved king, and finally succeeded when he found that the king could be interested in puppets. Puppet soldiers, puppet generals, puppet kings caught his imagination. The cleverest hands of Spain made them, by the hundred, for His Majesty, who handled them with such interest and pleasure that his reason was finally restored. Two other great kings could be added to the list of royal friends—they are Saladin and Louis XIV of France.

There is a long list of famous literary friends. Greatest of these is Shakespeare, who not only enjoyed marionettes, but wrote plays for them. Many people are surprised when they learn that _Midsummer Night’s Dream_ and _Julius Cæsar_ were written for marionettes. Shakespeare’s friend, Ben Jonson, wrote a marionette play, _Every Man in His Humor_. Another great literary friend was Cervantes. Some day you may wish to take his story of Don Quixote and turn some of its wonderful scenes into a play for marionettes. If you do so, you may be sure that their immortal author would approve of your venture.

In France, among their many friends, was the great dramatist Voltaire. At first he disliked marionettes thoroughly. For it happened that they had made fun of him, and, naturally, that was more than this great wit could stand. Finally, the story goes, he was invited to visit a friend who had a little marionette theater and some puppets. When Voltaire took the strings in his own hands, his feeling for them changed. He found they could be made to say witty things, and to make fun of one’s enemies. It ended by his writing short plays for them to act.

George Sand, the famous French novelist, made a very simple but delightful puppet theater for her little boy, Maurice, and set the fashion for puppets among her literary friends. Stories could be told of many other famous French friends, of Molière, Fontaine, Doré, and Rousseau. Great French writers still love marionettes. You probably know two of these: Maurice Maeterlinck and Anatole France.

When we go to Italy, we find other friends, but none greater than Michael Angelo. Picture this artist modeling heads for marionettes. We wonder what they looked like and what became of them. His great patron, Lorenzo de Medici, had a puppet theater built for his palace in Florence.

Marionettes have had famous musicians as their friends. If you are interested in music, you will enjoy reading about Joseph Haydn and the five toy symphonies that he wrote for marionettes.

Goldoni, the greatest Italian writer of comedies, was born in Venice, that city in which, you remember, puppets were first called marionettes. He lived near the street where most of the puppet makers lived and had their shops. As a child he played puppet games with many other children in a little park near his home. When he was seven years old he wrote a puppet play and invited his friends to come to see and hear it. He enjoyed writing plays that made them laugh. When Goldoni grew up he was still the friend of puppets because he felt that they had helped him in learning the art of play writing.

The German poet, Goethe, was a friend of puppets from his childhood. When he was about the age of seven, a friend of his good mother made some puppets and sent them to him and his sister for a Christmas present. The mother had a happy thought. She made a little stage and set it in the doorway of a room, just off the living room. On Christmas morning, after the children had seen their presents, she had the family sit down before the closed door. When she opened it, there was a kind of porch concealed with a mysterious curtain. The children were curious and eager to know what was behind that half-transparent veil. The mother, however, bade each sit down upon his stool. At length, Goethe says, “All were silent, a whistle gave the signal, the curtain rolled aloft and showed us the interior of a temple painted in deep red colors. The high priest, Samuel, appeared with Jonathan, and their strange alternating voices seemed to me the most striking thing on earth. Shortly after entered Saul, overwhelmed with confusion at the impatience of that heavy-limbed warrior who had defied him and all his people. But how glad was I when the dapper son of Jesse, with his crook and shepherd’s pouch and sling, came hopping forth and said, ‘Dread king and sovereign lord, let no one’s heart sink down because of this. If your majesty will grant me leave, I will go out to battle with this blustering giant!’

“Here ended the first act, leaving the spectators more curious than ever to see what further would happen—each praying that the music might soon be done. At last the curtain rose again. David devoted the flesh of the monsters to the fowls of the air and the beasts of the field; the Philistine scorned and bullied him, stamped mightily with both his feet, and at length fell like a mass of clay, affording a splendid termination to the piece, and then the virgins sang a song: ‘Saul hath slain his thousands, but David his ten thousands.’ The giant’s head was borne before his little victor, who received the king’s beautiful daughter to wife.” This is part of the description that Goethe wrote when he grew up and became a famous man.

Do read the delightful and vivid description which Constantin Stanislavsky gives of his boyish experiences with marionettes in his autobiography, _My Life in Art_. “We had decided to exchange the living actors for actors made of pasteboard and to begin the construction of a marionette theater with scenery, effects, and a full line of theatrical necessities. The marionette theater demanded expenditures. We needed a large table to put in the large doorway. While above and beneath it, that is above and beneath the marionette stage, the openings were covered with sheets. In this manner, the public sat in one room, the auditorium and the other room, which was united to the first, was the stage and all its accessories. It was there that we worked, we the artists, the designers, the stage managers, and the inventors of all sorts of scenic effects. My oldest brother also joined us. He was an excellent draftsman, and a fine inventor of stage effects. His help was important because he had a little money, and we needed capital for our work.

“We began to paint scenery. At first we painted on wrapping paper which tore and crumpled, but we did not lose heart for we thought that with time, as soon as we became rich (for we were to charge ten kopeks as admission), we would buy pasteboard and glue the painted wrapping paper to it. From the moment that we began to feel ourselves managers and directors of the new theater, that was being built according to our plans, our lives became full. There was something to think about every minute. There was a great deal to do. In the drawer of the table there always lay hidden some piece of theatrical work, the figure of a marionette which was to be painted and dressed, a piece of scenery, a bush, a tree, or the plan and sketches for a new production. In the margins of my books and copy books there were always sketches of scenery or a geometric drawing. We always chose moments of catastrophic character. For instance, an act from _The Corsair_, which called for a sea quiet in the daylight but stormy all night with a wrecked ship, with heroes swimming for their lives, with the appearance of a lighthouse, an escape from a watery grave, the rising of the moon, prayer, and dawn.

“These performances were always sold out, notwithstanding the high price of admission. Many people came to see them, some to encourage us, others to amuse themselves. Our promenades between lessons took on a very deep meaning. Before that we went to the Kugnetsky Bridge to buy the photographs of circus artists. But with the appearance of our theater, there appeared a need for all sorts of material for scenery and marionettes. Now we were no longer too lazy to take a walk. We bought all sorts of pictures, books with landscapes and costumes which served as material for the scenery and the dramatic personæ of our theater. These were the first volume of a rapidly increasing library.”

Perhaps that friend who has done most to keep the world still interested in marionettes is Gordon Craig. He is a great English artist who sees them not as so much wood and cloth pulled about by a few strings at the whim of careless people, but rather as real creatures, human or more than human, quiet and dignified, as the gods of old. It has been his delight to give them again the great rôles of literature. He, too, invited the greatest actors of Europe to come and learn from them.

Possibly you are asking what it is that gives such friendships to the marionette. Perhaps none of its great friends could answer. The marionette is quiet, submissive, dignified, and mysterious. It becomes a different thing in every hand. It expresses every mood, thought, and fancy of the one who pulls the strings. What will it do in your hands?

[Illustration: PATHOS SENTIMENT MIRTH]

[Illustration: [Boy]]