Kate Berridge
Paris.’ The King, a man miserable on the throne but happy on horseback, shared his wife’s enthusiasm and was moved to present the equestrian stuntman with a token of appreciation in the form of a diamond-studded medal. Court interest in the people’s pleasures is striking in this period. Axel von Fersen, the Queen’s admirer and friend, described the Versailles passion for the shows of Paris as a mania. ‘We miss none of them, and would prefer to go without drink, food and sleep than to ignore any spectacle.’
    Among the usual urban congestion of crowds, carriages and street merchants in the immediate vicinity of Marie’s home were diversions for all tastes and interests. From the elegantly macabre illusions of Monsieur Pinetti, who by stabbing shadows of birds seemed to make them bleed, to the bloody savagery of the live animal fight, wherebulls with horns cruelly removed were set upon by dogs and wolves, the spectrum of the beautiful and brutal was broad. Two of Curtius’s neighbours showed a disregard for the show-business wisdom of not working with children or animals. The theatrical impresario Audinot scored a big hit with his troupe of child actors, and the star turn in Nicolet’s troupe was Turcot the tightrope-walking monkey. Other celebrity performers of the show-business fraternity whom Marie and Curtius moved among, and who they could see when they felt like being entertained rather than entertaining, were the girl who danced with eggs tied to her feet and La Petite Tourneuse, billed as a human spinning top. There was also the Incombustible Spaniard, who drank boiling oil and walked barefoot on red-hot iron, and, strengthening national stereotypes, Jacques de Falaise, the eater of live frogs. The ironically named Beauvisage made a reasonable living merely by contorting his ugly pockmarked face into horrible grimaces, while much more stamina went into the acts of the jugglers and high-wire artists, some of whom even dressed up in hot and heavy wild animal costumes to stretch their skills to the limit.
    In addition to physical feats, displays of mental agility by every species of savant amazed and delighted in equal measure. Munito the fortune-telling dog and a white rabbit with a talent for algebra enjoyed particular success. The long-eared mathematician was the star turn of a showman whose other attraction raised eyebrows for the wrong reasons. The ‘pissing puppet’, a marionette of a boy in the act of urinating, incited a few killjoys to call for a ban, or at least a Parental Guidance warning. Puppet shows in general were thought dubious family entertainment: ‘Children who attend these shows retain all too easily the impressions they receive in these dangerous places. Parents are often astonished to find them informed about things that they should not know about, and they ought to blame the lack of prudence they have shown in permitting their children to be taken to shows that should have been forbidden them.’
    Also on offer were clockwork automata and mechanical robots with bronze heads that seemed to speak like humans–part of a mania for ‘philosophical toys’ which was in part driven by the rationalist view of man as a machine with a soul. (The topical debate about what it was to be human added to the allure of Curtius’s wax doubles.) There wasalso every scale of magic-lantern show, ranging from tantalizing views of foreign cities in the pay-per-view portable peep shows to elaborate phantasmagorias that seemed to assume supernatural properties and turn into ectoplasm that threatened to engulf a terrified audience. Just as Curtius modelled the celebrities of the day in wax, for a time a couple of enterprising impresarios enjoyed success on the back of their famous look-alike marionettes. Perhaps the most unusual impersonation was by Turcot the monkey, who, as well as displaying his balancing skills, imitated the leading classical actor of

Similar Books

Corpse in Waiting

Margaret Duffy

Taken

Erin Bowman

How to Cook a Moose

Kate Christensen

The Ransom

Chris Taylor