Something for everyone, a comedy tonight!

Personally, I don't think I make a very convincing diplomatic figure. My clothing is the oddest mixture of fur and satin that I personally have ever seen, and the feather on my blasted hat seems to want to droop the wrong way all the time. In fact, I don't think we would have been welcomed quite as warmly as we were, had it not been for the rather nice, and very exotic gilded dinner service that we brought to present to the new Grand Duchess, princess Christine. If there's one thing you can always be sure of with the aristocracy, they never turn down gold.
The other thing, or rather, person that has been niggling me since I got here, is the Duke's insufferable vintner; I would guess his age to be in the early thirties, with a pasty complexion, thinning hair, and a fat face, although if you actually look at him, his body is quite spare, and his legs... well, I've seen more meat on kindling twigs! Whenever he looks at me he seems to have an expression as though he bit into a bun and found half a cockroach. And at the formal dinner last night, when he filled my wineglass, I had to keep urging him on. He seemed reluctant to pour enough for a mouse to get tiddly.
But making up for all my minor grouches today, there is to be an entertainment celebrating the Duke's marriage. This isn't a masque in name, but in most other respects, it will be pretty much the same kind of affair; a first-rate chance for the Ducal family to show off their wealth, power, and erudition, with food, drink and music at convenient intervals.
It's important to remember that this is a political marriage first and foremost (and quite possibly, exclusively). Duke Ferdinando de Medici wants to strengthen the Florentine ties with France once more, and marriage to Christine of Lorraine is a suitable opportunity. Or to put it another way, she can ensure the continuity of the Medici line, while he ensures the continuity of power (through her relatives!).
The prologue informs us that we are to see the story of the challenge of the Emathian princesses to the muses. Thank goodness for my east-european diplomat persona, while I know who the muses are in Greek mythology, it would be unthinkably ignorant for someone of my standing not to know the story of the Pierides if I was the representative of a (presumably) more educated western court.
I have to say that this is my first experience of the theatrical style that will become known across europe as the Commedia dell'arte, and while at this stage it doesn't have the fully-developed character of slapstick and mayhem for which it will become known (and which would be inappropriate to a courtly entertainment), it is quite clearly heading that way.
I'm rather disappointed that I wasn't able to get my hands on any of the sheet music for this afternoon's presentation, however, on my return I did manage to find Luca Marenzio's Diuersi Linguaggi: sung by the various characters of the commedia;

• the Scholar
• the Professor
• Fate
• Grace
  
• Francescina
• Girometta
• Zanni (a clown)
• Captain Magnifico
• the German
  

For anyone who might be interested, here is the song "Various Languages", beautifully engraved by Christian Mondrup for the Werner Icking Music Library.

References

The Programme for the entertainment

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Eternal Triangle

Before I came to the town of Arona in northwest Italy, I had no idea what it was like, or why it might be of interest. And I had never heard of the brothers de Lantins, so bumping into them, almost literally, outside a lively tavern on a May evening was a very happy accident.

I had managed to secure a temporary job as pot-girl during the festivities and was carrying a large jug of wine out to some thirsty patrons when a boisterous circle-dance broke up, scattering revellers in all directions, two of them being the aforementioned brothers, identical twins, differentiated only by their dress; one wearing a more sombre traveller's outfit, the other in a rich-looking tunic with the livery of some great house embroidered on the breast. They were good enough to apologize hastily for jogging my arm, and one of the pair asked if they might buy a couple of measures of cool wine after their exertions in the dance?
When I returned a few minutes later to find them seated and waiting they were already engaged in discussion:
"Can you not see how the pattern of the tune might be overlaid perhaps two or three times, at different intervals?"
"I can see that it might be possible, but surely, it would be cacophanous! What patron would want such music?"
"In Paris, already, this new art is being practised in the service of the divine, and surely what is good enough for God in France, will soon be good enough for the noble houses of Italy?"
"You will not convince me, Hugo, no matter how you try. Did you not learn from the holy brothers that 'God is not the author of confusion'?"
"No, no! You do not understand. Let me demonstrate..."
Drawing back a little on the bench, Hugo dips his finger in the red wine and starts drawing lines:
"A hop and a skip, I shall write it in imperfect time, perfect prolation, like so..."
He draws a broken circle, the symbol of imperfection, indicating two main phrases, with a small complete circle inside it, meaning that there will be three main beats in each phrase, then a sequence of squares indicating the notes.
"Now, after ... five steps, let us say with the beginning of the second three, another voice begins..."
Watching with fascination, I see how he repeats the same pattern of notes, at a lower pitch, harmonizing as the beginning of the second voice joins with the middle of the first! And suddenly, I am brought back to earth by a sound slap to my behind.
"Giovanna! this patient family is waiting for honey cakes. NOW!"
Perhaps it was the bang on the behind, but by the time I get home, I can barely remember the melody that Hugo wrote down. And as nearly as I can tell, it was the traditional carol "I saw three ships come sailing in". Considering the lyrics, I find myself wondering if this is another of the riddle songs that were once so popular:

Why three ships, for two people? and what does the song mean by "Our Savior Christ and His Lady"? Normally we use the term so-and-so and his lady to indicate a girlfriend or wife. Most people would probably have no trouble in identifying the virgin Mary as Christ's lady, but what about the Bride of Christ? His church? And why are they sailing to landlocked Bethlehem? riddle-me riddle-me ree!
It occurs to me too, that it might be more than coincidence that I met the twins in a town governed by the Borromea family, whose arms are three interlinked rings. Twos and threes every which way!

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Like a thief in the night, He comes!

"Alms? Alms for the poor? Fair lady, will you give alms for the poor?"
The pitiful fellow sheltering as best he can under the arch of the gate against the chill of the driving rain is the only beggar I have seen today. The red raw skin of his craggy features tells a story of nights spent hiding from the frosts, and his clothing is an odd mixture of tattered homespun and once-fine velvet. Assuming that he is just unable to find work with an employer, it would be churlish of me indeed, not to give something. The busy market is only a few minutes walk up the hill and when I return with a warm meat pie the beggar is still working his patch. While he gratefully bites into the pie I try to slip a couple of Francs into his scrip without being too obvious.
"He comes, my lady. He comes! And none may stand before him."
I give him a perplexed look. "He comes, my lady. And Kings have tried to stop him, but he will not be stopped. He comes, and we must kneel before him. May God have mercy on my soul! He comes!"
It would seem the poor fellow has lost his wits! I cannot explain why I haven't made my way to the market which was my intended destination, and with the pie almost gone, my destitute companion begins to ramble once more:
"I was a sailor my lady, and visited far Indee where my christian soul was in danger of the heathen witchery. And for my soul's cure, I sailed to the Holy Land, but a hard time I had of it among the moors. God be thanked, though! He brought me safe home again to my native shore. A fine ship she was, with three tall masts, and a hold full of silver. But silver will not buy him, no. And he comes!"
Uncertain quite how to excuse myself, I pretend that I have just remembered that I have urgent business in town, and make my exit as quickly as I may, hoping that the beggar will seize on another passer-by. As I make my way up the hill once more I hear him singing in a cracked and uneven tone... Veni, veni, Emmanuel, come, come, God with us!

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Eternity in an hour

Silly, I know, but one of the things that hits me occasionally, is the awful brevity of human life. I mentioned it to my director a few days ago and bless her, she did her best to reassure me; the people I have met mostly lived very full lives, and died at a ripe old age, but still, when I get back from an excursion, suddenly people I had spoken with, sometimes only minutes before, are gone forever. And have been, often for centuries! It's hard not to like some of them, and the realization that they are gone can be quite hard to take sometimes, particularly given that I can never visit the same time and place twice.
Anyway, I can tell by the look on your face that you're wondering what are we doing this early in the morning, in Coventry, on Wednesday June 12th, 1392? And by the way, I like your chaperon, very stylish!
Well, we're here before sunrise because today is the festival of Corpus Christi. And more importantly, we're here to observe community theater at the height of its development before the theater became a profession in its own right. Today, several of the major craft guilds of the city will be presenting dramatic tableaux based on the holy scriptures. Shortly after sunrise, members of the stonemasons guild will present "The Creation of the World in Six Days" by the Greyfriars gate.

As the day wears on, the other guilds will be presenting The Fall of Adam (the weavers and fullers), The Annunciation (the carpenters), The Birth of Our Lord (the goldsmiths), The Massacre of the Innocents (the tailors and shearmen), The Last Supper (the bakers), The Harrowing of Hell (the smiths and farriers), and The Last Judgment (the apothecaries) in St.Michael's Churchyard shortly after sunset.
The ingenuity of these little dramas demands to be admired, even by people like us, for whom technology is a commonplace. The simple illusions by which trees are made to spring forth from the wagon-stage, and birds and small animals released as if the Creator had just fashioned them delights me just as much as any of the audience here!
It's not too surprising that the guilds have seized the opportunity of the attractions to boost commerce, there are stalls everywhere offering everything from hot food or drinks to small commemorative items, and I've heard quite a few accents which clearly aren't local, so my guess is that anyone who knew of the event, and could make the trip, has done so. And although I don't know of any shrines in the area, I also saw one sturdy fellow with the cockleshell fastened to his hat, denoting a pilgrim.
But for me, the simple treasure of the event was a performance of this carol, by the Tailors and Shearmen, the three anxious sisters in dark robes performing a simple weaving dance to an instrumental interlude between verses.

As the sun sets, in St.Michael's Church Yard on a stage constructed of several wagons, a magnificent judgment throne has been set up, and towards the end of the performance, as the stars begin to appear while a small handful of the faithful are borne away by winged angels, the damned are driven by gleefully capering demons towards a gaping hellmouth, and a breathtaking display of pyrotechnics announces the end of the days festivities (and not, I sincerely hope, the wagons!)

Special thanks to:
The Medieval Woodcuts Clipart Collection

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