Hannah Dow is an English graduate who is interested in literature of the English Civil War. She has carried out research on Inigo Jones’s designs in the Richard Southern Collection at the University of Bristol Theatre Collection to further her own understanding of the role of the court masque in 17th century politics. She hopes that her posts will inspire others to delve into the fascinating materials held in the Southern Collection.
Over the course of February and March I made many trips to view the materials relating to Inigo Jones at the Theatre Collection hoping to understand what went through the minds of those who were lucky enough to witness the 17th century masque. In my previous post, I considered how the proscenium in Florimène channelled ideas which were of interest to the monarchy, whether personal or political. It is clear that the masque facilitated the celebration of the sovereign; by showcasing the idyllic harmony that could result from presiding authority, Inigo Jones’s stage designs reinforced the monarch’s perceived God-given right to rule. Though there is something more to be said about the masque’s dramatisation of the return to order after disorder. To have goodness, light and the reinstation of peace, there needs to be an initial source of evil, darkness and chaos. The triumph of good over evil seems simple (as indeed it was in earlier productions), however in this blog post I want to unpack this duality with the intention of revealing sources of rebellion which threatened to unravel the fabric of the Caroline masque.
This conflict between order and disorder is most vividly illuminated in the Queen’s masque Luminalia or The Festivall of Light (1638), written by Sir William Davenant. I must admit that it was this masque which dazzled me the most after reading about its production, for example, in the text for Luminalia we are provided with an enchanting description of the first scene: ‘the curtaine in an instant disappear’d discovering a Scene all of darknesse, the neerer part woody, and farther off more open with a calme River, that tooke the shadowes of the Trees by the light of the Moone, that appear’d shining in the River’ (3). This description is brought to life in Jones’s set design which depicts a woodland landscape shaded in darkness, except for the light of the moon that is reflected in the river below. (Fig. 1.)
The implementation of innovative lighting techniques was integral to the immersive feel of Luminalia. Jones used candles to mimic the light of the moon, making the audience feel as if they had just stepped into a painting. Though this scene may be alluring in its beauty and supposed tranquillity, we soon learn of rebels who lurk in the night as we are introduced to thieves, witches and even a ‘Devill in the shape of a Goat’ (11). These characters formed a section of the performance known as the antimasque, a brief period of disorder that was isolated from the main plot. Although these rebels rarely interacted with the masque’s main characters, they could still invoke a sense of unease in the audience, largely due to the fact that they took the form of monsters, witches, clowns and fools.
The antimasque, first introduced by the renowned poet and dramatist Ben Jonson in The Masque of Queens (1609), served a singular purpose as disorderly characters were only introduced so that they could ‘be dispelled, as if by magic, in the “discovery” action of the masque proper’ (Craig 181). In Luminalia, the antimasquers are dispelled by the light of the rising sun: ‘the Heaven began to bee enlightned as before the Sunne rising, and the Sceane was changed into a delicious prospect’ (13). Then suddenly, to the amusement of the audience, Aurora, played by Queen Henrietta Maria herself, descends from the heavens ‘in a Chariot touch’d with gold’ (13). Jones’s clouds (Figs. 2 and 3) were a product of complex stage engineering which allowed the Queen to literally descend from the painted heavenly realms above the stage. The combination of ethereal imagery and intricate stage machinery functioned to showcase ‘the innate capacity of the monarch to establish peace’ (Jenkinson 109), while also pointing to their ability to restore light after a period of darkness.
When we get to Davenant’s Salmacida Spolia in 1640 however, this dazzling portrait of royal power would begin to fade in the eyes of spectators. Salmacida Spolia was the last of the court masques, before the events that culminated in the English Civil War (1642-1651) and the execution of King Charles I in 1649. So, it’s safe to say that tensions were high, especially since members of the parliamentary party were cast in the masque alongside the King in a rather awkward attempt at improving relations.
When the curtains parted, the audience were faced with the malicious Fury, Discord, appearing ‘in a storme, and by the Invocation of malignant spirits, proper to her evill use, having already put most of the world into disorder, endeavours to disturbe these parts, envying the blessings and Tranquility we have long enjoyed’. This depiction of unruly femininity is captured through Jones’s costume designs for the Furies (Fig. 4). Anne Daye compares these images to Jonson’s description of the original antimasquer in The Masque of Queens who appears ‘naked armed, barefooted, her frock tucked, her hair knotted and folded with vipers; in her hand a torch made of a dead man’s arm, lighted and girded with a snake’ (65, Orgel 125). It is unsurprising that monstrous women reoccur throughout antimasque iconography as, like the antimasquers, the female body was viewed as unruly due to its close alignment with the unrestrained forces of nature. By presenting women with snakes for hair, the costumes did a lot of work in rooting the masque’s disorder in an embodied vision of demonised femininity.
The storm which Discord inflicts is troubling for the masque as it leads to chaos and uproar amongst the people of the world. Arguably, the storm also held symbolic value beyond the stage as it represented the political turmoil that was brewing in England due to increasing tension between Charles and parliament. The masque was rather controversial in its execution of political symbolism; instead of following the convention whereby the antimasque’s disorder is attributed to a monstrous gang of rebels, the chaos of the storm becomes symbolically intertwined with the fury of civilians. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, then enters King Charles I in the role of Philogenes, ‘the lover of his people’, to save the day. In the masque, Charles’s character is admired for his ability to ‘endure/ To live, and governe in a sulleine age,/ When it is harder far to cure,/ The Peoples folly than resist their rage’. Although one could argue that Charles was reaching out a hand to his enraged parliamentarian opposers by seeking to resolve the conflict at hand (Butler 344), the word ‘cure’ here suggests an authoritative administration of order rather than democratic negotiation between the King and his subjects. It is likely that audience members would have been disillusioned or maybe even sceptical of Charles’s performance and the implied attempt at dispelling public uproar.
The resolution to the masque would be a difficult pill to swallow for audience members and parliamentarians alike, as it is through the commendation of Philogenes’ fortitude for enduring the wrath of his people that grants him help from the allegorical figures Genius and Concord. After Genius persuades Concord to assist the ‘great and wise Philogenes’ the stage is transformed through song and dance, symbolising the restoration of peace and harmony. The celebration of Philogenes’ ‘kingly patience’ promoted Charles’s peaceful approach to conflict and suggested that he would rather conciliate with than avenge his opposers (Butler 345). Such a message may have been more effective if it wasn’t accompanied by the usual theatrics of the masque where royal power is reinstated by Queen Henrietta descending from the heavens ‘with her martiall Ladies; and from over her head were darted lightsome Rayes that illuminated her seat’ (Fig. 5). Unfortunately, the light that emanated from this spectacle would not be enough to dispel the darkness that was awaiting beyond the stage as a civil war was brewing amongst the nation.
The prints I have presented to you in these two blog posts are only a glimpse into the Richard Southern Inigo Jones boxes at the University of Bristol Theatre Collection. There is much more work to be done into how these designs could illuminate political perspectives in interesting ways, and I hope I have inspired you to take a look for yourself. While finishing this post, I had the pleasure of meeting Elise, a PhD student in the Theatre Department at Bristol, who is researching ballet designs in the Julia Trevelyan Oman Archive at the Theatre Collection. We discussed how studying the materials of theatre, and the designers who made them, could bring innovative research methodologies to academic study in the arts. This conversation made me consider how the masque stands as a testament to the collaborative efforts of theatrical production as it draws our attention to all the different puzzle pieces that make up the stage. When researching early modern drama, whether it be on the court stage or the playhouse, we must not forget how the artistry of the set designer could enhance ideas or even reveal hidden meanings beyond the words of the playwright.
Works Cited
Butler, Martin. ‘The Caroline Crisis.’ The Stuart Court Masque and Political Culture, Cambridge UP, 2008, pp. 321–357.
Craig, Hugh. ‘Jonson, the Antimasque and the ‘”Rules of Flattery”.’ The Politics of the Stuart Masque, edited by David Bevington and Peter Holbrook, Cambridge UP, 1998, pp. 176–196.
D’Avenant, William, Sir, 1606-1668. Luminalia, Or the Festivall of Light Personated in a Masque at Court, by the Queenes Majestie, and Her Ladies. on Shrovetuesday Night, 1637. , 1638. ProQuest, https://bris.idm.oclc.org/login?url=https://www.proquest.com/books/luminalia-festivall-light-personated-masque-at/docview/2240875517/se-2.
D’Avenant, William, Sir, 1606-1668. Salmacida Spolia A Masque. Presented by the King and Queenes Majesties, at White-Hall, on Tuesday the 21. Day of Ianuary 1639. 1640. ProQuest, https://bris.idm.oclc.org/login?url=https://www.proquest.com/books/salmacida-spolia-masque-presented-king-queenes/docview/2240899143/se-2.
Daye, Anne. ‘The Role of le Balet Comique in Forging the Stuart Masque: Part 2 Continuation.’ Dance Research: The Journal of the Society for Dance Research, vol. 33, no. 1, May 2015, pp. 50–69.
Jenkinson, Matthew. ‘The ‘Understanding’ of Calisto.’ Culture and Politics at the Court of Charles II, 1660-1685, Boydell & Brewer, 2010, pp. 107–133.
Orgel, Stephen. Ben Jonson: The Complete Masques. Yale UP, 1969.