more tales of amusement from the early modern stage
Well, the Jacobean court, but that's more or less the same thing -- you know those Stuarts. Anyway, another bit of trivia for you which amused me a great deal.
In 1618, the Venetian ambassador and his entourage attended a performance of Ben Jonson's masque Pleasure Reconciled to Virtue, and chaplain Orazio Busino was good enough to write about it in a letter home. The Venetian delegation didn't seem to have a very good time, but I had a great time reading about it:
They did all sorts of ballets and dances of every country, such as passemeasures, corantos, canaries, Spanish dances, and a hundred other beautiful turns to delight the fancy. Finally they danced the Spanish dance once more with their ladies, and because they were tired began to lag; and the King, who is by nature choleric, grew impatient and shouted loudly, "Why don't they dance? What did you make me come here for? Devil take all of you, dance!" At once the Marquis of Buckingham, his majesty's favorite minion, sprang forward, and danced a number of high and very tiny capers with such grace and likeness that he made everyone admire and love him, and also managed to calm the rage of his angry lord. Inspired by this, the other masquers continued to display their powers one after another, with different ladies, concluding with capers, and lifting their goddesses from the ground. We counted 34 capers in succession cut by one knight, but none matched the splendid technique of the Marquis.
That cracks me up. I love the image of a bored and cranky King James sitting grumpily in the midst of all of these splendidly-garbed courtiers and going "GET ON WITH IT!" And then Buckingham proving, perhaps unsurprisingly, to be a very adept shaker of ye olde moneymaker.
Busino also relates how the many partygoers managed to knock over the table and break all the dishes afterwards, and at the end of the event, he says, "half disgusted and exhausted we returned home." Don't know why, though. All in all it sounds like a terrifically entertaining evening. Unless you're King James. And even he found something to enjoy about it. ;)
In 1618, the Venetian ambassador and his entourage attended a performance of Ben Jonson's masque Pleasure Reconciled to Virtue, and chaplain Orazio Busino was good enough to write about it in a letter home. The Venetian delegation didn't seem to have a very good time, but I had a great time reading about it:
They did all sorts of ballets and dances of every country, such as passemeasures, corantos, canaries, Spanish dances, and a hundred other beautiful turns to delight the fancy. Finally they danced the Spanish dance once more with their ladies, and because they were tired began to lag; and the King, who is by nature choleric, grew impatient and shouted loudly, "Why don't they dance? What did you make me come here for? Devil take all of you, dance!" At once the Marquis of Buckingham, his majesty's favorite minion, sprang forward, and danced a number of high and very tiny capers with such grace and likeness that he made everyone admire and love him, and also managed to calm the rage of his angry lord. Inspired by this, the other masquers continued to display their powers one after another, with different ladies, concluding with capers, and lifting their goddesses from the ground. We counted 34 capers in succession cut by one knight, but none matched the splendid technique of the Marquis.
That cracks me up. I love the image of a bored and cranky King James sitting grumpily in the midst of all of these splendidly-garbed courtiers and going "GET ON WITH IT!" And then Buckingham proving, perhaps unsurprisingly, to be a very adept shaker of ye olde moneymaker.
Busino also relates how the many partygoers managed to knock over the table and break all the dishes afterwards, and at the end of the event, he says, "half disgusted and exhausted we returned home." Don't know why, though. All in all it sounds like a terrifically entertaining evening. Unless you're King James. And even he found something to enjoy about it. ;)