"Cabriolet, sir, sir?" "I can barely afford to walk!" (Le Charivari, 1839) |
A good portion of the current cultural
image of the cabdriver developed in the Nineteenth Century. Hack and
cab drivers were commonly featured in the physiologies
– illustrated lists of common urban personalities or character
types, a sort of “Who Are The People In Your Neighborhood?” meant
to reassure readers that the
quickly changing city was still legible.
Honoré Daumier (1808-1879) was one of the great lithographers and
caricaturists of the time. Daumier had a keen political conscience,
and loved to skewer the powerful and wealthy, not hesitating to take
on the King himself. At the same time, Daumier did not exempt
everyday Parisians from satire; as Baudelaire put it, Daumier
“teaches us to laugh at ourselves.”
Daumier
was very conscious of what today might be called the micropolitics of
everyday life. He was also particularly
observant of the indignities and hidden injustices of
transportation—most famously, in his depictions of third class railway passengers, but also the long-suffering riders of omnibuses and stage
coaches, and even those travelling by boat on the Seine. He also
repeatedly returned to the subject of Parisian fiacres (hacks) and cabriolets (cabs), and the
interactions between their drivers and passengers.
In
Daumier’s prints, the hackmen are selfish, wily, and
unkempt—precisely as they appeared in the work of his
contemporaries. However, as a champion of the poor and oppressed,
Daumier was more sympathetic to workers, including
hackdrivers, than many of the other physiologues of his time. The
bottom line for Daumier, nevertheless, is that no one gets off easy,
and most often, both drivers and passengers come across as ridiculous
figures.
Many of Daumier's cab cartoons focus on a common source of contention between drivers and passengers: the method of fare calculation. Decades before
the invention of the taximeter, Parisian cabs charged either a flat rate by the trip, or a variable fare based on time. In the above
comic, a savvy driver deals effectively with a drunk, disoriented
customer. Seeing that the passenger is uncertain of the correct
address, the driver declares it a time-based fare, to ensure that he
will be paid for the inevitable time spent searching for the actual
destination. Like almost all of Daumier’s hackdrivers, the driver
here is holding a whip, wearing an overcoat, and sporting a tall plug
hat which has become warped and misshapen through long exposure to
the elements.
COACHMAN: Go on, Gentlemen, argue over my cab as much as you like. But argue by the hour, for I will have my pay! (Le Charivari, 1855) |
This
driver waits stoically for two disputing passengers to duke it out
over his cab, while insisting that he will be paid for the wasted
time.
By the Minute: "Driver, you're hardly moving!" "Driver, you're not going anywhere!" (Le Charivari, 1857) |
Since
the per-hour rate was slightly higher than the per-trip rate, it was
often advantageous for drivers to give rides by time rather than by
trip—leading in turn to suspicions by passengers that drivers were
driving intentionally slowly, in order to “run up the fare.”
Daumier illustrates these concerns with these two excruciatingly slow
drivers, grinning like Cheshire cats at the complaints of the
helpless businessmen trapped in their vehicles.
A fiacre by the hour. (Le Charivari, 1839) |
Less
conspiratorially, in this illustration the driver has simply fallen
asleep through exhaustion, to the consternation of his passenger, who
is paying by the hour. The yellow body and black top was typical of
Paris cabs in this era.
Daumier
would return to the theme of the sleeping fiacre
driver in a later cartoon:
"Driver, stop! I will pay by the hour!" "By the hour? In the rain? You insult me!" (Le Charivari, 1864) |
Then
as now, rain would bring a reversal of power, and cabdrivers, instead
of having to search for passengers, took advantage of increased demand to
pick and choose the most desirable fares. Here the gentleman hailer
offers to pay the driver the higher per-hour rate in order to secure
a ride. The driver pretends to be insulted by this pandering—more
likely, he hopes to make more money at the per-trip rate than at the
per-hour rate, while the rain lasts.
Then again, these rain-soaked Commedia dell'arte performers dressed as Scaramouche (?) and Pierrot offer to to pay by the trip; but the driver refuses, perhaps because of their destination,
or perhaps because he knows actors are likely to be broke, and
therefore unlikely to tip well.
"Driver! The hand of our daughter!" (Le Charivari, 1867) |
Desperate for a cab, a family offers their daughter's hand in marriage to the driver who will stop for them—to no avail.
"Take you to the Madeleine? Give me a break! I will take you to the Jardin des Plantes, I have a dinner appointment in that direction." (Le Charivari, 1866) |
Daumier
may be intentionally ambiguous about just who is “abusing the
liberty” of whom. The bourgeois
couple, who have apparently been pestering the off-duty fiacre
driver with requests for a ride? Or the driver, who decides to take
them, not to their destination, but to a place more convenient for
him?
"The ladies are from the half-world (demi monde), but they don't wear half-skirts (demi-jupes)." (Le Charivari, 1855) |
Like
expensive clothes, riding in hacks was a status symbol of the rich,
but was open to appropriation by upwardly aspiring members of the
lower classes. Here, Daumier pokes fun at the pretentions of
prostitutes who mimic both the clothes and the riding habits of the
nobility.
"Driver, are you hired (loué)?" "No, sir." "Well, love those who advise you, not those who praise (loue) you." (Le Charivari, 1842) |
This
pedestrian joker’s pun on the French word for "hail" makes the driver grimace. It’s about as
funny as asking an English-speaking cabdriver, “Are you free? ...
Then how do you make any money?”
The following driver calms an anxious passenger with a mix of soft-spoken friendliness and subtle menace reminiscent of Tom D'Andrea in Dark Passage:
"Calm yourself, bourgeois, and know that I will drive you as gently as if it were your funeral!" (1842) |
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