I mentioned earlier that I wrote for my friend and classmate’s magazine Novelty back in 1964. I carried on writing after that. The earlier pieces — including Un Tourista in Italia — never really received a proper conclusion, and I am not even sure whether the series was ever completed in full.
Soon afterwards I turned to what was to become my second great enthusiasm: music. The following article formed part of a series I was writing at the time on Restoration opera. This dates from a little later — 1966 — when I was about seventeen. Again, I regret that I never pursued this line of study further. I eventually embarked on quite a different subject at university, a choice that caused me considerable difficulty in later life.
Nevertheless, this piece has now been brought back into the light exactly as it was written then. It should be remembered that this was a moment when the early-music revival was only beginning to gather momentum. Performances on period instruments were not yet familiar. Although developments were already stirring in Amsterdam — with figures such as Gustav Leonhardt — audiences were still accustomed to Restoration opera and related repertoire being played on modern instruments and with over-vibratoed voices. Orchestras might gesture toward the style or atmosphere of the period, but historically informed performance as we now understand it had not yet taken hold.
Looking back, I remain astonished that I had formed these views at such an age. The subject was not taught at school; this was entirely the result of my own reading and curiosity. It was not written as an exercise or assignment, but purely from personal research and enthusiasm. With that in mind, I present the article here for anyone who may wish to read it.

SEMI-OPERA OF THE ENGLISH RESTORATION: Part 8

The pastoral convention reached its apotheosis in Henry Purcell’s semi-opera The Fairy Queen, based on Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream and produced in 1692—a theme which Benjamin Britten resurrected in his opera based on Shakespeare’s play first produced in 1960.

We return to the Italian Intermedii, such as Hercules, entertaining Plautus’ comedies in Italian. They were originally introduced with some symbolic connection to the remainder of the drama, as in the allegorical meaning of the early English court masque. The Intermedii were either produced for the intimate entertainment of noblemen or staged at important occasions.
At Lucrezia Borgia’s wedding, we read in the letter of the Ferrara ambassador, Boccaccio, to his master, Duke Hercules I, dated June 13, 1493:
“In conclusion, the women danced and, as an interlude, a good comedy was given, with songs and music. The Pope and all others were present. What more shall I add? There would be an end to my letter. Thus we passed the whole night, and whether it was good or bad your Highness may decide.”

Incidentally, Lucrezia Borgia was married to Giovanni Sforza when she was thirteen, and she had wedded once more by the time she was sixteen.
It seems that these Intermedii were often the only reason noblemen attended drama performances in the Renaissance. Isabella d’Este wrote about a play at Lucrezia’s third wedding: “It was a very full affair, sat there for the sake of the Intermedii.”
It is significant that the Intermedii of the eighteenth century often appeared between the intervals of the drama, producing an animated effect for the audience. It was not uncommon for them to enter the repertoire alongside works of serious opera. For example, Pergolesi’s “La Serva Padrona” was an intermedio between the acts of “Il prigionier superbo” by Alessandro Scarlatti. It became an immediate success lasting to this day, unlike Scarlatti’s opera.
Thus, the combination of music, dance, and symbolic theatricality has made this form a hit for over 400 years.