find most irritating. Valentin takes his leave with the following words:
Once more adieu; my father at the road
Expects my coming, there to see me shipp’d. (I/1)
However, the author isn’t speaking of a seaport: Richard P. Roe brings clarity into the situation.
„Along select channels of the seas, and in the large and smooth rivers the world over, there are wide places for ships to anchor called ‚roads’ or ‚roadsteads’. – In 1580, when the famous essayist Michel de Montaigne saw Verona’s road, he remarked in his Diary about the ‚vast quay’ [clôture vaste]. The road and the adjacent quay were just downstream from the great stone bridge called ‚Ponte Navi’ (Ship Bridge).“
Bernardo Bellotto (Canaletto): Ponte Navi (1748)
What on Earth was the author thinking when he sent our two romantic heroes through Italy on a ship?
For reason of safety and comfort, wealthy travellers in the 16th century actually did greatly prefer canals and waterways to overland travel. Richard P. Roe points out, (as did his predecessor Sir Edward Sullivan) that, at that point in time, Italy had a very comprehensive system of canals and waterways joining Lake Maggiore with the Adriatic Sea. One could reach Milan from Verona by going up the Adige to Legnano, from there along the “Nicholasa” canal into the Tartaro, after that, up-river to the canals “La Fossetta” and “La Fossa”- from there up the river Po, after Cremona turn into the Adda- from the Adda into the “Navigilo Martesana” (the Martesana canal) in the direction of Milan.
Vincenzo Coronelli: Burchiello and Barca
Sixteenth century Milan was circumvented by two rings of canals. Sir Edward Sullivan writes in 1918: “We find the city in 1497 in ship communication on one side (by the Naviglio della Martesana) with the Adda, and on the other (by the Naviglio Grande) with the Ticino, the Po, and Lago Maggiore – a condition sufficient to justifiy Carlo Pagnano’s statement in 1520 that Milan, far as it was from the sea, might easily be taken to be a seaport town.”
“That’s all very well,” say the friends of Shakespearian literature, but:”Why does the author talk about the tide in Verona?” (II/3)
PANTHINO. Launce, away, away, aboard! Thy master is shipp’d, and thou art to post after with oars. What’s the matter? Why weep’st thou, man? Away, ass! You’ll lose the tide if you tarry any longer.
LAUNCE. It is no matter if the tied were lost; for it is the unkindest tied that ever any man tied.
PANTHINO. What’s the unkindest tide?
LAUNCE. Why, he that’s tied here, Crab, my dog.
PANTHINO. Tut, man, I mean thou’lt lose the flood, and, in losing the flood, lose thy voyage, and, in losing thy voyage, lose thy master, and, in losing thy master, lose thy service, and, in losing thy service -
The answer: The author couldn’t resist the delightful plays on the words: tide (= the swelling of the sea and, =the opportune moment) and tied (=bound). He gives way to the temptation and turns the Adige into the Thames. Perhaps more readily, because now he can make a cynical reference to “The Tide tarrieth for no Man” by George Walpull (1576).
Still in a humorous vein, he has Speed mark the arrival of Launce in Milan with the words “Welcome to Padua”. Whereupon they march straight to an “alehouse”.
Launce and Crab, 1762
Nonetheless, it would be a mistake to take Launce for a run-of-the-mill scoundrel from Southwark; he relates that his master Proteus and Mistress Julia have “parted very fairly in jest.”
“What, are they broken?” asks Speed.
Launce answers “No, they are both as whole as a fish.”
This dialogue is based on a colloquial Italian phrase “sano come un pesce”.
Furthermore, Launce is well acquainted with the new arrivals on the shelves of the English book shops:
LAUNCE. He lives not now that knows me to be in love; yet I am in love; but a team of horse shall not pluck that from me; nor who ‘tis I love; and yet ‘tis a woman; but what woman I will not tell myself; and yet ‘tis a milkmaid; yet ‘tis not a maid, for she hath had gossips; yet ‘tis a maid, for she is her master’s maid and serves for wages. She hath more qualities than a water-spaniel- which is much in a bare Christian. Here is the cate-log [Pulling out a paper] of her condition. ‘Inprimis: She can fetch and carry.’
This “cate-log” is a reference to “Of Englishe dogges the diversities, the names, the natures, and the properties...” London 1576, from a certain Dr. Caius, in which the characteristics of the cocker-spaniel are discussed on page 16.
When writing a play, there’s no point in making references to current affairs, catch phrases, or indeed a book, if everybody’s forgotten what it is that you’re referring to. Consequently, we can assume that “The two Gentlemen of Verona” was written in 1577, without fear of being accused of recklessness.
On his arrival in Milan, Proteus foolishly falls in love with the beautiful Silvia, a love that leads to the betrayal of his friend. In Act 4, Scene 2, after delightful confusion (Julia, disguised as a boy, hears her boyfriend Proteus sing a love song to Silvia, the girlfriend of his best friend, accompanied by minstrels, in the employ of Thurio, the man to whom the Duke, her father, has promised Silvia’s hand...) Proteus suggests “Saint Gregory’ s Well” as the meeting place for a midnight tête-à-tête with Thurio, just for the sake of being rid of the fool.
This meeting place has caused a lot of frowns. Some people are pleased to see that the working man from Stratford has, once again, pulled something amazing out of the hat, others scour the pages of “Piccata Milanese” looking for disused wells in Milan. The American, Richard P. Roe shows us that “St. Gregory’s well” means the “Foppone di San Gregorio”, a cemetery situated next to a quarantine station, known as “Lazaretto”.
Franciscus Schott writes in the year 1600: “San Gregorio is the refuge for plague victims. It covers an area of 4.800 Ellen (2,800 yards) and is surrounded by flowing water. The area is enclosed by a pillared wall. It has countless bed-rooms and is adequately equipped for all of the community’s needs. This location lies outside the Porta Orientale.”
The German travelogue writer, Schott, (Itinerarii Italiae rerumque Romanarum Libri tres) wasn’t exactly zealous when it came to accuracy. He recorded the length as being 700 yards, instead of the more generally accepted 440 yards, and he gave the name “San Gregorio” to the entire complex, instead of just the graveyard.
Il Lazaretto and Foppone di San Gregorio (1629)
The “Lazaretto”
