Shakespeare at the Globe, 1599-1609

by Bernard Beckerman

III. THE EFFECT OF PLAYING CONDITIONS UPON ELIZABETHAN ACTING

After 1592, stability and new theater construction, though continuing the earlier tradition in many respects, brought about new playing conditions, the third factor which contributed to the acting style at the Globe. Playing conditions include the structure of the theater, the arrangement of the repertory, and the organization of the company. The first two of these conditions have been discussed at length in previous chapters and the last has been treated in Professor T. W. Baldwin’s Organization and Personnel of the Shakespearean Company.

With the opening of the Globe playhouse the company, for the first time since its organization, had its own building. Although the Theatre may not have been very different in form, it had never served as a permanent home. How much this affected the actors is difficult to know. We found in [Chapter Three] that only 20 per cent of the scenes in the Globe plays made use of stage facilities. For the larger part of the play, the actor needed only a bare platform. Thus the conditions that the plays required were no different from those he had known for years.

But if the physical conditions did not change greatly, the artistic conditions did. The splendor of the stage façade enhanced the actions of the player. The very sumptuousness of the stage elevated them to a level of grandeur, setting them off with elegance and opulence. In return it called for scope in delivery, grace in manner, and audacity in playing. Against a setting so dazzling only intensive and extensive action could hope to make an impression upon an audience.

Not only the design but also the plan of the stage conditioned the acting. The flat façade and the deeply projecting platform had a serious effect upon the physical movement of the actor. For the moment we can assume that the actor played many scenes at the front of the stage. To do so he had to come forward twenty-five feet. The modern director would motivate such a movement, that is, provide the actor with some internal or external impulse to cause him to move forward. In some instances this must have been the same at the Globe. Often we read scenes where characters on stage describe the entrance and approach of another actor. But there are many instances where such aid is not forthcoming. In those cases one of two effects was possible. Either the movement forward was treated as a conventional action which the audience expected, or it was treated as a ceremonial action which dignified the player. Further investigation of this matter is reserved for the [next chapter]. Here it is sufficient to point out that in either case the actor’s entrance was theatricalized. Boldness was necessary to catch and hold attention on such a vast stage.

The sightlines of the theater also had an effect upon the acting. Essentially they were poor. We are dealing with an aural theater, not a visual one. Note how the author of An Excellent Actor (1615) expresses the relation of actor and spectator:

Sit in a full Theater, and you will thinke you see so many lines drawne from the circumference of so many eares, whiles the Actor is the Center. [My italics.]

Gesture for specific communication rather than general reinforcement of the speech was not feasible. For example, the comic actor could not rely on a visual gag. A humorous walk or risible situation, such as the tavern scene in I Henry IV, could be managed. But the type of farcical routine represented by the commedia dell’arte lazzi would have been lost to a large part of the audience.

The sightlines not only prohibited certain types of gestures, they also required a certain orientation of the body. Today as much as possible the actor will try to maintain the illusion that he is facing a fellow actor and not facing the audience. The flat picture frame of our theater encourages this illusion. In the Elizabethan theater the actor had to turn out, that is, orient himself to the circumference of auditors, if he were to be seen at all. This condition reinforced the conventional or ceremonial manner in acting.

By turning out, the actor emphasized the stage as a setting behind him rather than as an environment around him. This was in accord with the demands of the plays. As I have pointed out, most of the scenes were set in a generalized locale. The actor did not have to maintain an illusion of place. He could concentrate wholly on the action and the passion of a scene. To achieve verisimilitude it was not necessary that he project time and place. Standard practice in movement and delivery would fit every play, for they would never seem out of harmony with the conventional façade. The result was that the actor did not adapt himself to every environment, as the actor does now, but translated every environment into a theatrical form.

These tendencies towards simplification and systemization were reinforced by the conditions of repertory. In [Chapter One] I showed how many plays were maintained actively in the Globe repertory. A member of the company, who was likely to be in every play, had to learn a new role every other week. At the same time, he had to keep in mind thirty or forty others. We do know that the players were used to preparing a script rapidly. Augustine Phillips, in the course of testimony offered on the Essex conspiracy, reveals that the Lord Chamberlain’s men had only a day or a day and a half to revive Richard II, a play long off the boards.[19] The fact that the play was actually presented at the Globe is proof of the actors’ adaptability.

But the player’s task was still more arduous. There was no opportunity for him to fix a role in his memory by repetition. Rarely would he play the same role two days in succession. Even in the most popular role he would not appear more than twice in one week, and then only in the first month or two of the play’s stage life. The consequences of such a strenuous repertory were twofold. First, the actor had to cultivate a fabulous memory and devote much of his time to memorization; various plays testify to the scorn of the playwright for the actor who is out of his part. Secondly, the actor had to systematize his methods of portrayal and of working with his colleagues. How far this could be done will have to be considered below in light of the variety of roles the actor played.

If we could have a glimpse of an actual rehearsal, we should learn a great deal about Elizabethan acting. The closest that we can come to such a glimpse is to examine various players’ scenes in the drama of the period. From A Midsummer Night’s Dream (I, ii, 101 ff.), we learn that it was the practice to distribute the sides to the actors and, after these had been memorized, to rehearse the company. That this was normal procedure is indicated by the surviving part for Orlando from Orlando Furioso.[20] Used by Edward Alleyn, it embodies the system adopted by the professional companies. The part, inscribed on a narrow sheet of paper, was originally arranged on a long roll. From this roll Alleyn studied his part and from it we can learn some of his methods, particularly by comparing the part to the extant copy of the play.

The part contains Orlando’s speeches, together with the cues for each speech and some stage directions. The cues are extremely brief, consisting of no more than two or three words of the preceding actor’s speech. If the speeches of more than one actor separate two speeches of Orlando, only the last cue is inserted. Of the presence of any other actors on stage there is no indication. The stage directions, usually written in the third person, are not as descriptive as in the text of the play. Entrances of other actors are not noted. In effect, the part is shorn of almost everything but the speeches of the character.

As Dr. Greg has pointed out, the part does not rely upon quite the same text as the full copy of the play. Therefore, a word-by-word comparison cannot be made. Yet there is some evidence that short replies by the other actors were conventionalized in the part. Compare the following extract, for example:

Part.

stay villayne I tell

the/e/ Angelica is dead, nay she is in deed

... lord

but my Angelica is dead.

... my lord.

[154-158]

Play.

Orl. O this it is, Angelica is dead.

Org. Why then she shall be buried.

Orl. But my Angelica is dead.

Org. Why it may be so.

[856-859]

In several other places short lines of the other actor have been omitted.[21] There is one instance, in an otherwise satisfactory section, where a cue is omitted (after Part, 344, compare with Play, 1311–1312). Another set of omissions involves brief interchanges between Orlando and another character. The brevity of the speeches where the omissions occur indicates that they are not cuts in the script. Perhaps these lines were picked up by the actors in rehearsal.

The uncertainty governing the relationship of part to play makes it difficult to depend too much upon the evidence of the comparison. But a few tentative deductions can be made. We must remember the little time available for rehearsal. Nowadays when extensive rehearsals in the Moscow Art Theatre manner are the ideal, the few hours that were available to the Globe actors appear to be an insurmountable obstacle to dramatic art. However, long rehearsals of an entire dramatic company are a comparatively recent innovation. In the last century, for instance, a rehearsal or two was deemed sufficient. An actress who was asked by Edwin Booth to rehearse the closet scene in Hamlet was so insulted that she left the production. Concentration upon the individual player rather than the play, which this anecdote illustrates, is also reflected in the part of Orlando. It is trimmed to provide the actor with the information he needed as a solo performer, not as a member of a group. Since the full copy of the play was difficult to secure, the one copy being zealously guarded by the bookkeeper, the part was all the actor had to rely on. From it he got his familiarity with the play. In it he put the essentials of his role. The absence of more stage directions in the part than are in the play indicates that the acting was free from any but the most relevant business, an observation with which B. L. Joseph seems to agree. Altogether, the evidence points to a type of acting which emphasized the individual performer, minimized his relationship to the other actors, and placed great emphasis upon the delivery of speeches.

The organization of the Globe company may have somewhat mitigated the emphasis upon the individual. Between 1599 and 1609 the company became stabilized and won the prestige of a royal patent. From the opening of the Globe to the accession of James in 1603, the sharers, who were the principal actors, remained the same. They were Thomas Pope, John Heminges, Augustine Phillips, Richard Cowley, William Shakespeare, Richard Burbage, William Sly, Henry Condell, and Robert Armin. At the time the company received the royal patent in May, 1603, it was enlarged to twelve members. Entering at the same time was a replacement for the deceased Pope, Laurence Fletcher. The three new members were John Lowin, who had been a member of Worcester’s men in 1602–1603, Alexander Cooke, who may have been the “sander” of the Seven Deadly Sins of 1592, and Nicholas Tooley, who spoke of Richard Burbage as “master.” E. K. Chambers conjectures that the Samuel Grosse whose name appears in the Folio actor list preceded Tooley into the company, but that he probably died of the plague almost at once. This history is doubtful, but even if true, it made little difference. Since it is generally accepted that Fletcher did not act with the King’s men, only three actors joined the company. One was clearly an outsider, one was probably an apprentice, who had grown up in the company, and one, Cooke, may have been an apprentice. On the death of Phillips in 1605 either Samuel Gilburne or Robert Goffe succeeded him. To account for Gilburne’s name in the Folio actor list, Chambers places him after Phillips, to be followed by Goffe before 1611. Baldwin believes that Goffe, who was Phillips’ brother-in-law, entered the company in 1605. He was possibly the “R. Go.” of Seven Deadly Sins, and may have remained with the company as apprentice or hired man throughout. In 1608 William Ostler replaced Pope, who was buried August 16, and John Underwood replaced Fletcher, who was buried September 12. Both men came from the Revels company, where they had been boy actors. However, since they entered during the period when plans for placing the King’s men at Blackfriars were under way, we can exclude them from our consideration. Thus, in the ten years we are treating, three new actors joined the company and one replaced a former actor. Two of the new actors had probably appeared with the company previously, another possibly had, but only one had been definitely associated with another group, and that one of the popular companies. The hired actors have not been considered, it is true, but the sharers who were the principal players made a tightly knit, relatively unchanging group.

Determination of the identity of the boys of the company who played the ladies is somewhat difficult. Baldwin lists seven names of boys who acted the female roles between 1599 and 1609.[22] In 1599 Samuel Gilburne, Ned (Shakespeare?), and Jack Wilson were boy actors. Samuel Grosse joined them in 1600, shortly after which Gilburne and Ned ceased playing women. In 1603 John Edmans, John Rich, and James Sands began playing women’s parts. Grosse in 1604 and Wilson in 1605 in their turn ceased performing as women. This rapid turnover is to be expected, since the span of a boy’s ability to play a feminine role was relatively short. However, since each of these boys was apprenticed to one of the members of the company, his training and performance would probably have harmonized with the adult acting.

What effect, then, did this closed and intimate group have upon the style of the acting? Baldwin proposed that each actor had a special character “line” to which he devoted himself and to which the playwrights, particularly Shakespeare, trimmed the roles. Baldwin points out that the same actors consistently took the major roles. In this I believe he is correct. Richard Burbage invariably played the leading role, Robert Armin the leading comic role, Robert Cowley played important secondary roles. Lowin seems to have come in to play leads or second leads just below the rank of Burbage: Baldwin gives him the role of Enobarbus to Burbage’s Antony. Although this designation may not be strictly accurate, the relation it reflects is likely. It is apparent that a modified star system obtained in the Globe company. This arrangement had two advantages. On the one hand, it enabled the company to develop virtuoso acting. On the other, it ensured a high level of general competence throughout the production. The competitive conditions which drew actors away from the King’s men after 1615 did not exist at this time, so that actors who received minor roles year after year had little opportunity to separate from the company.

The distribution of prominent roles to the same actors at all times, however, does not constitute a “line.” By a “line” Professor Baldwin seems to mean the recurrent appearance of a type of role, requiring certain definite characteristics in the player. Although he applies the conception of “line” rigorously, he never defines the term clearly. The criteria which he apparently considers in establishing a line are prominence of role, physique, age, genre, temperament, and special skills. First, actors distinguished according to prominence of role was a fact of Globe organization as we have seen. But instead of aiding the formation of an actor’s “line,” it interfered with it, for a leading actor would assume a leading role regardless of its type or nature. Secondly, Shakespeare may well have kept the physiques and ages of the actors in mind as he wrote, but, though such a practice may have aided naturalism, it hardly affected the type of role. In effect, the practice is no different from the kind of casting that occurs today. Thirdly, Baldwin distinguished an actor’s line according to the genre in which he specialized, comedy or tragedy. Probably the clown was a comic specialist who had to be given a role in most plays. But that there was any general tendency to specialize in one genre or the other is unlikely in view of the alternation of plays, some of which call for almost all comedians, others for almost all tragedians. The Merry Wives of Windsor was performed about the time of Hamlet, and Volpone about the time of Lear. Fourthly, special talents may be dismissed, for they involve such abilities as Kemp’s dancing. Finally, we are left with one criterion for the actor’s “line”: his temperament. Baldwin links the temperament of the actor to the temperament of the “line” that he played. Sly was the player of jolly, roisterous roles; Lowin, the player of blunt, honest soldiers. Ultimately Baldwin rests his case for a “line” upon the playwright’s adherence to distinct character types and his imitation of the actors’ temperaments.[23]

The Elizabethan playwright, however, could not adhere to types, for the actor had no tradition of playing clear-cut types, as we have seen. The actor did not specialize, but he portrayed a wide range of characters. This practice persisted into the Shakespearean era. For example, Dogberry may be regarded as a comic type, the bumbling constable. The character who most nearly approaches him in type is Elbow in Measure for Measure. He too is the inept comic constable, malapropisms and all. But the original actor of Dogberry, Will Kemp, was not in the company when Measure for Measure was presented. Obviously, in this case at least, the type was not shaped by the actor, that is Kemp, but the actor fitted the generic type.

Nor did the playwright imitate the actors’ temperaments, for the host of different roles which a single actor was called upon to play could not have been shaped to one personality. The four Shakespearean roles that are assigned to Burbage upon reliable evidence are Richard III, Hamlet, Othello, and Lear. I think no one would care to describe the personality that could serve as a model for these four roles. Moreover, when we add to this repertory, Baldwin’s assignments to Burbage of the parts of Claudio in Much Ado, Ford in Merry Wives, and Bertram in All’s Well, we must give up any idea that these characters were fitted to a personality except that of a sensitive, capable actor. Instead, the Globe company seemed to have distributed roles without attention to personal traits of the actors. This is evident in II The Return from Parnassus. Philomusus, after he has been auditioned by Burbage and Kemp (IV, iii), is considered suitable for parts as different as a foolish justice and Richard III. The scene may be mockery, but it accurately reflects all we know about role distribution. In contrast to this method, Molière, in his public plays, kept the number and distribution of roles fairly constant, evidently to meet the needs of his company. But neither the number, distribution, nor type of role was consistently repeated by Shakespeare or any other writer for the Globe company. Consequently, I fear that Baldwin’s “line” is a fiction which bears little relation to reality. His insistence upon it betrays an ignorance of histrionic method.

We must not, however, presume that the stability of the company and the absence of rigid types gave rise to ensemble acting in the naturalistic sense. The arrangement within the plays was suitable to individual playing. Most scenes in Shakespeare’s plays involve less than five active players on stage at one time. Even where there are a large number of actors on stage, the action is confined to a scene between two or three. For example, only 24 per cent of the lines in As You Like It are spoken when more than three actors are active on stage. In Twelfth Night the percentage is higher, 34 per cent, but in Hamlet it is only 19 per cent and in Lear, 31 per cent. These percentages are as high as they are because the final scene in most plays is a formal resolution of the story involving a public revelation or judgment. In Lear half the lines involving more than three active players occur in the first and last scenes of the play. The actor generally had to play with one or two others. When on stage, he was involved in the action. When on stage and mute, which was rare, he was excluded from the immediate sphere of action. In most scenes, one or more of these actors were likely to be virtuosi performers, for though the Globe plays require large casts, they rely upon relatively few performers to carry the bulk of the play.