Oh, dear. Cupid was about to feature in a commemorative painting when the artist, Commedia wise-guy Mezzetin, slashed his own canvas to release that wiser guy – Harlequin! It makes you wonder about the originator of this piece, Johann Jacob Schübler, an 18th century architect, draftsman and artist.
At least he put me on to the character of Mezzetin or Mezzetino who is described as:
"… an adept schemer and trouble-maker…much more gentle and cultivated, especially in his later life. He is often very musically inclined, and can sing and dance with skill. His character can vary greatly: he can be a loyal servant or simply scheming for his master's downfall…"
My research notes helped me realize that geographically Mezzetin is associated with one of the major Commedia characters – Il Dottore, the doctor.
He's a tricky character, too. (Aren't they all?)
"He is comically inept. He is usually extremely rich, though the needs of the scenario might have things otherwise, and extremely pompous, loving the sound of his own voice and spouting ersatz Latin and Greek."
Both Mezzetin and Il Dottore are associated with the Italian city of Bologna – which of course would have its theatres, just as Venice had the Teatre Italia. As I searched for a scenic place where they might perform together, I was reminded of a rather silly story brought back from a conference by a medical specialist I once worked for:-- It seemed an eminent surgeon had been flown into a major city to perform a rare and delicate operation. The hospital sent a driver to meet him at the airport, and the arriving physician called out, "Quick! Quick! Get me to the theatre!" -- and he was delivered at top speed, not to the operating theatre, but to the city's famous opera house!
Lucky for Il Dottore, the most beautiful theatre I found offered a more familiar setting. Here is the city's reconstructed anatomical theatre, originally built for hands-on medical studies.
This theatre, in fact, was much too beautiful for any high jinks. I determined to put my actors on their best behaviour – with Mezzetin wielding a paint brush instead of the customary guitar that Watteau placed in his hands.
And Il Dottore would stand benevolently by, approving the young man's work, speaking Latin that was erudite rather than ersatz.
As I began to develop the scene, I again borrowed a neighbour and a once-weekly shopping pal as models. Il Dottore is the guy across the street, a sound technician in the film industry, a fond uncle to Pulcinella's rescue cats, and himself the father of……a chinchilla and a boa constrictor. I am not kidding. Mezzetin is my favourite young employee at the nearby grocery store. His claim to unusual fame is that his grandparents live on the Isle of Man – and he was mightily impressed when, after his summer vacation there, I asked if all the island cats were tailless.
Things got a little overloaded in this painting – I could perhaps have used J.J. Schubler's help with the architecture. Here's the final version: "Their Best Behaviour – Il Dottore and Mezzetin" (copyright 2024).
Il Dottore critiqued it helpfully, with the Latin expression "Ars est celare artem," – "It is art to conceal art" – representing an aesthetic ideal that good art should appear natural rather than contrived. Of medieval origin, but often incorrectly attributed to Ovid.
For the last words, though, here's what Mezzetin has to say, via Marjorie Bowen in her play, "Homage to the Unknown."
"...We give to the old memories, to the young hopes, to all another illusion either in the past or the future, and if our benefits are not very substantial we never destroy anything, not even the tenderest, sweetest falsehood. Perhaps you want to know who we are? We do not know ourselves. We have a thousand shapes, a thousand names."
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