Caricature and Other Comic Art Part 17

[Ill.u.s.tration: A Scene of Conjugal Life. (Daumier, Paris, 1846.)]

The literature of the Middle Ages tells the same story. The popular tales of that period exhibit women as equally seductive and malevolent, silly, vain, not to be trusted, enchanting to the lover, a torment to the husband. Caricatures of women and their extravagances in costume and behavior occur in ma.n.u.scripts as far back as A.D. 1150, and those extravagances may serve to console men of the present time by their enormity. Many specimens could be given, but they are generally too formless or extravagant to be interesting. There are also many rude pictures from those centuries which aimed to satirize the more active foibles of the s.e.x. One of these exhibits a wife belaboring her husband with a broom, another pounding hers with a ladle, another with a more terrible instrument, her withering tongue, and another with the surest weapon in all the female armory--tears. In the Rouen Cathedral there are a pair of carvings, one representing a fierce struggle between husband and wife for the possession of a garment the wearing of which is supposed to be a sign of mastery, and the other exhibiting the victorious wife in the act of putting that garment on. On the portal of a church at Ploermel, in France, there is a well-cut representation of a young girl leading an elderly man by the nose. More violent contests are frequently portrayed, and even fierce battles with bellows and pokers, stirring incidents in the "eternal war between man and woman."

The gentle German priest who wrote the moral ditties of the "s.h.i.+p of Fools" ought not to have known much of the tribulations of husbands; but in his poem on the "Wrath and great Lewdnes of Wymen," he becomes a kind of frantic Caudle, and lays about him with remarkable vigor. He calls upon the "Kinge most glorious of heaven and erth" to deliver mankind from the venomous and cruel tongues of froward women. One chiding woman, he observes, "maketh greater yell than a hundred magpies in one cage;"

and let her husband do what he will, he can not quiet her till "she hath chid her fill." No beast on earth is so capable of furious hate--not the bear, nor the wolf, nor the lion, nor the lioness; no, nor the cruel tigress robbed of her whelps, rus.h.i.+ng wildly about, tearing and gnawing stock and tree.

"A wrathfull woman is yet more mad than she.

Cruell Medea doth us example shewe Of woman's furour, great wrath and cruelty; Which her owne children dyd all to pecis hewe."

This poet, usually so moderate and mild in his satire of human folly, is transported with rage in contemplating the faults of women, and holds them up to the abhorrence of his readers. A woman, he remarks, can wallow in wicked delights, and then, _giving her mouth a hurried wipe_, come forward with tranquil mind and an air of child-like innocence, sweetly protesting that she has done nothing wrong. The most virulent woman-hater that was ever jilted or rejected could not go beyond the bachelor priest who penned this infuriate diatribe upon the s.e.x.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A Splendid Spread. (Cruikshank, 1850.)]

Nor was Erasmus's estimate of women more favorable than Brandt's, though he expresses it more lightly and gayly, as his manner was. And curious it is to note that the foibles which he selects for animadversion are precisely those which form the staple of satire against women at the present time. In one of his Colloquies he describes the "a.s.sembly of Women, or the Female Parliament," and reports at length the speech of one of the princ.i.p.al members, the wise Cornelia. This eloquent lady heartily berates the wives of tradesmen for presuming to copy the fas.h.i.+ons of the rich and n.o.ble. Would any one believe that the following sentences were written nearly four hundred years ago?

"'Tis almost impossible by the outside," says Cornelia to her parliament of fine ladies, "to know a d.u.c.h.ess from a kitchen-wench. All the ancient bounds of modesty have been so impudently transgressed, that every one wears what apparel seems best in her own eyes. At church and at the play-house, in city and country, you may see a thousand women of indifferent if not sordid extraction swaggering it abroad in silks and velvets, in damask and brocard, in gold and silver, in ermines and sable tippets, while their husbands perhaps are st.i.tching Grub-street pamphlets or cobbling shoes at home. Their fingers are loaded with diamonds and rubies, for Turkey stones are nowadays despised even by chimney-sweepers' wives. It was thought enough for your ordinary women in the last age that they were allowed the mighty privilege to wear a silk girdle, and to set off the borders of their woolen petticoats with an edging of silk. But now--and I can hardly forbear weeping at the thoughts of it--this wors.h.i.+pful custom is quite out-of-doors. If your tallow-chandlers', vintners', and other tradesmen's wives flaunt it in a chariot and four, what shall your marchionesses or countesses do, I wonder? And if a country squire's spouse will have a train after her full fifteen ells long, pray what s.h.i.+ft must a princess make to distinguish herself? What makes this ten times worse than otherwise it would be, we are never constant to one dress, but are as fickle and uncertain as weatherc.o.c.ks--or the men that preach under them. Formerly our head-tire was stretched out upon wires and mounted upon barbers'

poles, women of condition thinking to distinguish themselves from the ordinary sort by this dress. Nay, to make the difference still more visible, they wore caps of ermine powdered. But they were mistaken in their politics, for the cits soon got them. Then they trumpt up another mode, and black quoiss came into play. But the ladies within Ludgate not only aped them in this fas.h.i.+on, but added thereto a gold embroidery and jewels. Formerly the court dames took a great deal of pains in combing up their hair from their foreheads and temples to make a tower; but they were soon weary of that, for it was not long before this fas.h.i.+on too was got into Cheapside. After this they let their hair fall loose about their foreheads; but the city gossips soon followed them in that."

And this game, we may add, has been kept up from that day to this; nor does either party yet show any inclination to retire from the contest.

Erasmus was, indeed, an unmerciful satirist of women. In his "Praise of Folly" he returns to the charge again and again. "That which made Plato doubt under what genus to rank woman, whether among brutes or rational creatures, was only meant to denote the extreme stupidness and folly of that s.e.x, a s.e.x so unalterably simple, that for any of them to thrust forward and reach at the name of wise is but to make themselves the more remarkable fools, such an endeavor being but a swimming against the stream, nay, the turning the course of nature, the bare attempting whereof is as extravagant as the effecting of it is impossible: for as it is a trite proverb, _That an ape will be an ape, though clad in purple_; so a woman will be a woman, _i. e._, a fool, whatever disguise she takes up." And again: "Good G.o.d! what frequent divorces, or worse mischief, would oft sadly happen, except man and wife were so discreet as to pa.s.s over light occasions of quarrel with laughing, jesting, dissembling, and such like playing the fool? Nay, how few matches would go forward, if the hasty lover did but first know how many little tricks of l.u.s.t and wantonness (and perhaps more gross failings) his coy and seemingly bashful mistress had oft before been guilty of? And how fewer marriages, when consummated, would continue happy, if the husband were not either sottishly insensible of, or did not purposely wink at and pa.s.s over, the lightness and forwardness of his good-natured wife?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: American Lady walking in the Snow.

"I have often s.h.i.+vered at seeing a young beauty picking her way through the snow with a pale rose-colored bonnet set on the very top of her head. They never wear m.u.f.fs or boots, even when they have to step to their sleighs over ice and snow. They walk in the middle of winter with their poor little toes pinched into a miniature slipper, incapable of excluding as much moisture as might bedew a primrose."--MRS. TROLLOPE, _Domestic Manners of the Americans_, vol. ii., p. 135. 1830.]

The ill opinion entertained of women by men during the ages of darkness and superst.i.tion found expression in laws as well as in literature. The age of chivalry! Investigators who have studied that vaunted period in the court records and law-books tell us that respect for women is a thing of which those records show no trace. In the age of chivalry the widow and the fatherless were regarded by lords, knights, and "parsons"

as legitimate objects of plunder; and woe to the widow who prosecuted the murderers of her husband or the ravagers of her estate! The homage which the law paid to women consisted in burning them alive for offenses which brought upon men the painless death of hanging. We moderns read with puzzled incredulity such a story as that of G.o.diva, doubtful if so vast an outrage could ever have been committed in a community not entirely savage. Let the reader immerse himself for only a few months in the material of which the history of the Middle Ages must be composed, if it shall ever be truly written, and the tale of G.o.diva will seem credible and natural. She was her lord's chattel; and probably the people of her day who heard the story commended _him_ for lightening the burdens of Coventry on such easy terms, and saw no great hards.h.i.+p in the task a.s.signed to her.

People read with surprise of Thomas Jefferson's antipathy to the poems and novels of Sir Walter Scott. He objected to them because they gave a view of the past ages utterly at variance with the truth as revealed in the authentic records, which he had studied from his youth up.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'_My dear Baron, I am in the most pressing need of five hundred franc!_' Must I put an _s_ to franc?"

"No. In the circ.u.mstances it is better not. It will prove to the Baron that, for the moment, you really are dest.i.tute of every thing--even of orthography."--ED. DE BRAUMONT, _Paris_, 1860.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Madame, I have the honor--"

"Sir, be good enough to come round in front and speak to me."

"Madame, I really haven't the time. I must be off in five minutes."--CHAM, _Paris_, 1850.]

Coming down to recent times, we still find the current anecdote and proverb in all lands bearing hardly upon the s.e.x. A few kindly and appreciative sayings pa.s.s current in Scotland; and the literatures of Germany, England, and the United States teem with the n.o.blest and tenderest homage to the excellence of women. But most of these belong to the literature of this century, and bear the names of men who may be said to have created the moral feeling of the present moment. It is interesting to notice that in one of our latest and best dictionaries of quotation, that of Mr. M. M. Ballou, of Boston, there are one hundred and eleven short pa.s.sages relating to women, of which only one is dishonorable to them, and that dates back a century and a half, to the halcyon day of the British libertine--"Every woman is at heart a rake.--POPE." So thought all the dissolute men of Pope's circle, as we know from their conversation and letters. So thought the Duc de Rochefoucauld, who said, "There are few virtuous women who are not weary of their profession;" and "Most virtuous women, like concealed treasures, are secure because n.o.body seeks after them." So thought Chesterfield, who told his hopeful son that he could never go wrong in flattering a woman, for women were foolish and frail without exception: "I never knew one in my life who had good sense, or who reasoned and acted consequentially for four-and-twenty hours together." And so _must_ think every man who lived as men of fas.h.i.+on then lived. "If I dwelt in a hospital," said Dr. Franklin once, "I might come to think all mankind diseased."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Where are the diamonds exhibited?"

"I haven't the least idea; but I let myself be guided by my wife. Women get at such things by instinct."--CHAM, _Paris_, 1868.]

But a man need not be a fine gentleman nor a _roue_ to think ill of womankind. He needs only to be commonplace; and hence it is that the homely proverbs of all time bear so hardly upon women. The native land of the modern proverb is Spain, as we might guess from Sancho Panza's exhaustless repertory; and most of those homely disparaging sentences concerning women that pa.s.s current in all lands appear to have originated there. What Spain has left unsaid upon women's foibles, Italy has supplied. Most of the following proverbs are traceable to one of the two peninsulas of Southern Europe: "He that takes an eel by the tail or a woman by her word may say he holds nothing." "There is one bad wife in Spain, and every man thinks he has her." "He that loses his wife and a farthing hath great loss of his farthing." "If the mother had never been in the oven, she would not have looked for her daughter there."

"He that marries a widow and three children marries four thieves." "He that tells his wife news is but newly married." "A dead wife's the best goods in a man's house." "A man of straw is worth a woman of gold." "A woman conceals what she knows not." "As great a pity to see a woman weep as to see a goose go barefoot." "A woman's mind and winter's wind change oft." "There is no mischief in the world done but a woman is always one." "Commend a wedded life, but keep thyself a bachelor." "Where there are women and geese, there wants no noise." "Neither women nor linen by candle-light." "Gla.s.ses and la.s.ses are brittle ware." "Two daughters and a back-door are three thieves." "Women commend a modest man, but like him not." "Women in mischief are wiser than men." "Women laugh when they can and weep when they will." "Women, priests, and poultry never have enough."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Evening Scene in the Parlor of an American Boarding-house.

"Ladies who have no engagements (in the evening) either mount again to the solitude of their chamber, or remain in the common sitting-room, in a society cemented by no tie, endeared by no connection, which choice did not bring together, and which the slightest motive would break asunder. I remarked that the gentlemen were generally obliged to go out every evening on business; and, I confess, the arrangement did not surprise me."--MRS. TROLLOPE, _Domestic Manners of the Americans_, vol.

ii., p. 111. 1830.]

Among the simple people of Iceland similar proverbs pa.s.s current: "Praise the fineness of the day when it is ended; praise a woman when she is buried; praise a maiden when she is married." "Trust not to the words of a girl; neither to those which a woman utters, for their hearts have been made like the wheel that turns round; levity was put into their bosoms."

Among the few broadsides of Elizabeth's reign preserved in the British Museum there is one which is conceived in perfect harmony with these proverbs. It presents eight scenes, in all of which women figure disadvantageously. There is a child-bed scene, in which the mother lies in state, most preposterously dressed and adorned, while a dozen other women are idling and gossiping about the room. Women are exhibited also at the market, at the bakehouse, at the ale-house, at the river was.h.i.+ng clothes, at church, at the bath, at the public well; but always chattering, gossiping, idling, unless they are fighting or flirting.

Another caricature in the same collection, dated 1620, the year of the _Mayflower_ and Plymouth Rock, contains seven scenes ill.u.s.trative of the lines following:

"Who marieth a Wife upon a Moneday, If she will not be good upon a Twesday, Lett him go to y{e} wood upon a Wensday, And cutt him a cudgell upon the Thursday, And pay her soundly upon a Fryday; And she mend not, y{e} divil take her a Saterday, That he may eat his meat in peace on the Sunday."

To complete the record of man's ridicule of the s.e.x to which he owes his happiness, I add the pictures given in this chapter, which bring that record down to date. They tell their own story. The innocent fun of English Cruikshank and Leech contrasts agreeably with the subtle depravity indicated by some of the French caricaturists, particularly by Gavarni, who surpa.s.ses all men in the art of exaggerating the address of the cla.s.s of women who regard men in the light of prey. The point of Gavarni's satire usually lies in the words printed underneath his pictures, and the pictures generally consist of the two figures who utter those words. But the expression which he contrives to impart to his figures and faces by a few apparently careless lines is truly wonderful, and it can scarcely be transferred to another surface. He excels in the expression of a figure with the face turned away, the whole effect being given by the outline of the head three-quarters averted. There is one picture of his, given on the following page, of a woman and her lover, he sitting in a chair reading _with his hat on_, indicating the extreme of familiarity, she standing at the window sewing, and keeping an eye on the pavement below. "He's coming!" she says; "take off your hat." In the att.i.tude of the woman there is a mingled effect of tranquillity and vigilance that is truly remarkable.

In all the range of caricature it would be difficult to find a better specimen of the art than this, or a worse. The reader may be curious to see a few more of these _fourberies de femmes_, as evolved from the brain of the dissolute Gavarni. It is almost impossible to transfer the work of his pencil, but here are a few of his verbal elucidations:

Under a picture of a father and daughter walking arm-in-arm: "How did you know, papa, that I loved M. Leon?" "Because you always spoke of M.

Paul."

Two young ladies in confidential conversation: "When I think that M.

Coquardeau is going to be my husband, I feel sorry for Alexander." "And I for Coquardeau."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "He's coming! Take off your hat!"--GAVARNI, _Paris_, 1846.]

Two married ladies in conversation: "Yes, my dear, my husband has been guilty of bringing that creature into my house before my very eyes, when he knows that the only man I love in the world is two hundred leagues from here."--"Men are contemptible" (_laches_).

Husband writing a note, and his wife standing behind him:

"MY DEAR SIR,--Caroline begs me to remind you of a certain duet, of which she is extravagantly fond, and which you promised to give her. Pray be so good as to dine with her to-day, and bring your music with you. For my part, I shall be deprived of the pleasure of hearing you, for I have an engagement at Versailles.

Pity me, my dear sir, and believe me always your affectionate

COQUARDEAU."

A young man in wild excitement reading a letter:

"On receipt of this, mount, fly; overtake in the Avenue de Neuilly a yellow cab, the steps down, gray horse, old coachman, 108, one lantern lighted! Follow it. It will stop at the side door of a house at Sablonville. A man and a woman will get out.

That man--he was my lover! And that woman--she is yours!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Scholastic Hen and her Chickens. (Cruikshank, 1846.)

_Miss Thimblebee loquitur._ "Turn your heads the other way, my dears, for here are two horridly handsome officers coming."]

Lady fainting, and a man in consternation supporting her head: "Clara, Clara! dearest, look up! Don't! Clara, I say! You don't know _any_ nice young man! I am an a.s.s, with my stupid jealousy. And you shall have your velvet shawl. Come, Clara! Now then, Clara, _please_!"

Lady dropping two letters into the post-office. First letter:

"MY KIND AMeDeE,--This evening, toward eight, at the Red Ball.

Mind, now, and don't keep waiting your