Toys of the Renaissance
Not necessarily just for children.
Toys or Jiggs, are Light-Squibbish Things, Only fit for the Fantastical, Easie-Light-Headed; and are of any sort of Time.
—Thomas Mace, Musick's Monument (London 1676) p. 129
The toy
Exploring lute manuscripts from the Renaissance, you’ll find a great diversity of pieces—some of which are quite short, sweet, and enjoyable to play. These little pieces are prevalent in many of the handwritten manuscripts that you can find. They tend to lurk in the dead space between larger, more prominent pieces. These brief musical ideas were often sketched on the staves left at the bottom of a page. Many of these adorn the title Toy. The English used many amusing titles for pieces at this time. Toys are no exception here. What are they, though? Where did they come from? What was their purpose?
After some sleuthing, I’ve found almost no content directly discussing this form of composition. Woe to the layman who has not access behind the walled institutions of higher knowledge! ChatGPT, our hallucination-prone “friend,” made some bold claims that the toy was in some way derived from the Italian toccata. Being familiar with both forms of composition, I was having trouble following that thread. It was dubious at best. When pressing the machine for more context, it did a 180, saying that its previous claim was unprecedented. It was a bold claim indeed, one it completely made up. I had hoped it would at least be able to point to some sources or references that discuss the topic, but it was effectively useless. The pinnacle of human technological achievement!
So what are these little compositions that often appear in English lute manuscripts? I was finally able to find a hypothesis that appears to corroborate the quote opening the article by Thomas Mace: Toys and jigs were thought of as either one in same, or that like jigs, a toy might have been a particular type of dance piece that was in vogue at the time, one that quickly fell out of favor as the fad waned nearing approach of the 18th century.
“The toy and jest often show features of the jig, both in the metre and in the frequent lack of divisions. The invention of fanciful or amusing names for dance related music that did not necessarily fit the popular moulds seems to have been particularly common in English lute music.”
— Chapter 2: The English Lute Repertory, Julia Craig-McFeely
There are many more interesting names that adorn dance music, and they all are uniquely found in English lute sources. Beyond the toy, some other examples we can find are:
Mrs Winter’s Jump
My Lady Hudson’s Puff
Phillip’s Dump
Various Delights
Thomas Robinson’s Schoole of Musicke
A notably famous example of a toy appears in Thomas Robinson’s Schoole of Musicke, published in 1603. This pedagogic publication is one of the most prominent introductory tutor aimed at teaching its readers how to play various instruments, namely lute, bandora, orpharion, viol, and even voice.
Perhaps due to its pedagogic nature, this toy is a popular tune played by lutenists and classical guitarists today. You can find numerous recordings of this piece. The excerpt above illustrates the rather thin nature of toys, especially in the first four bars. Additional texture is added with the second part, and throughout the piece, both parts alternate playing the lead and chordal accompaniment. Below is a rendition of the piece played by Christopher Morrongiello and Erik Ryding:
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Jigs and Will Kemp
Jigs of the period closely resemble other dances, almains, or pavans with the exception that they do not typically include divisions. Julia Craig-McFeely surmises that this may be due to the fact that the speed at which the jig was meant to be played did not allow for such ornamentation, or that these songs, which were probably the closest representations of common music of the time, weren’t intended to be as complex—leaving one to view these more as tunes enjoyed by a wider audiences of common folk rather than the more learned listeners of the bourgeois musical courts. This is further supported by the observation that surviving manuscripts dedicated strictly to art music and complex compositions notably lack these shorter, light-hearted pieces.
Kemp’s jig
An interesting anecdote survives from this period, which had its feats recorded in a jig. The jig in question is known as Kemp’s jig, and the story behind it is a rather amusing one. A character from the early 16th century, Will Kemp was a popular comic and actor of early Shakespearean dramas.
This jester of sorts, in a stunt he later called his “Nine Days Wonder," once danced all the way from London to Norwich (a distance of 110 miles or 177 km) thus earning him his own jig and eternal fame:
Kemp's dancing feat took approximately nine days, spread out over about a month in order that he might rest and recuperate during the journey. He was accompanied by a pipe-and-tabor musician and a referee who kept strict watch that he danced the distance; important as betting was heavy and Kemp put up a considerable sum on himself to complete the distance. His feat, really a publicity stunt of sorts, proved lucrative for in addition to his winnings he received a pension from Norwich and published a book on his exploit entitled Kemps Nine Daies Wonder: Performed in a Daunce from London to Norwich: Containing the Pleasure, Paines and Kinde Entertainment of William Kept between London and that Citty in his Late Morrice: Wherein is Somewhat Set Downe Worth Note; to Reproove the Slaunders Spred of Him: Many Things Merry, Nothing Hurtfull.
He, in many ways, quite literally danced his way into history.
I love that quote! The world needs more Light-Squibbish Things.