Introduction

      Metaphors of the performing arts abound in talk about diplomacy. Journalists condemn the emptiness of “diplomatic theater” when negotiations seem to serve no purpose other than political posturing. At other times, skillful negotiators receive praise for carefully “choreographing” a “diplomatic dance” and avoiding any “misstep.” The eighteenth-century notion of a “concert of nations” survives in today’s discourse if only as an ideal of global concord.¹ However trite, these metaphors retain their currency because they concisely evoke the aims and intricacies of diplomatic negotiation. Like a play, ballet, or symphony, diplomacy requires a coordinated effort by multiple players. It demands a degree of responsiveness, perhaps the ability to improvise. Diplomats need a sense of theatricality and an eye for symbolism—an awareness of how actions will be interpreted by negotiating partners and the broader public. Finally, when it works, diplomacy should produce—at least temporarily—order and harmony in the world.

      A similar lexicon pervaded discourses on international negotiation in early modern Europe. From the advent of those practices that we would recognize as features of modern diplomacy (such as ambassador exchange), commentators characterized diplomats as performers. Writers about diplomacy relied heavily on a theatrical vocabulary to describe the ambassador’s work. In the 1580s, for example, Italian theorist Alberico Gentili recommended that diplomats attempt to act like and even to “assume” the personality of the princes they represent, as if playing his character on a stage.² In his influential tome L’ambassadeur et ses fonctions (first published 1680), Dutch legalist Abraham de Wicquefort wrote: “In all the world’s commerce, there is no personage more actor-like than the ambassador.”³ In a 1716 work, French diplomat François de Callières echoed: “An ambassador resembles in some way an actor exposed on the stage to the eyes of the public in order to play great roles.”⁴ Although framed as comparisons, it would be unfair to characterize these references to theatrical performance as mere metaphors. As countless manuals stressed, a good ambassador needed a strong repertoire of performance skills. To succeed in his mission, he had to deliver good speeches and carry himself with grace in the elaborate ceremonies of diplomacy. He had to be able to dissimulate as well as any actor—to tell lies or at least conceal knowledge—in order to gather intelligence for his master. In addition, early modern diplomats were sometimes called on to perform in artistic contexts as well as in negotiations. As a resident in a foreign court, an ambassador had to be able to participate in the routine festivities of aristocratic society. This meant riding in equestrian pageants, dancing at balls, dressing up for masquerades, perhaps singing on occasion. It is not surprising, in this context, that ambassadorship was considered an “art.”

      In fact, throughout early modern Europe, the performing arts infused the day-to-day lives of ambassadors. In addition to their own quotidian uses of performance techniques, diplomats took part in the entertainments of music, dance, poetry, and pageantry