THE THEATRE
The first public theatre in London was situated in the parish of Shoreditch and quite appropriately named “The Theatre.” When visiting to-day this depressing neighbourhood, similar districts being dotted over all the London area, an observer immediately concludes that the governing authorities of the London districts must be a most corrupt body; how else can one account for the state of the filthy slums and the appalling ignorance of the inhabitants? Which, after all, is not so surprising when only the gorgeous gin-palace is allowed to flourish. As for demolishing a slum alley, perish the thought! It would offend the aristocratic and titled owner, whose property must be protected at all costs. If I were on a Board Council, not only would I confiscate the property and quickly sweep it off the face of the earth, but would heavily fine and imprison the owners as being pests to society. Shoreditch, God help us! is an awful place. The thought that Shakespeare’s plays were first produced in this neighbourhood seems to cast a stigma on his name, and that the present state of affairs should exist after three hundred years of social progress! Something is rotten in the parish of Shoreditch. How could any modern institution or artistic building flourish in such a fetid and vicious locality, where the London County Council only permits the public-house to flaunt its vile face before the public gaze. A new terror is now added to the grand historic city of London and its outer boundaries by the glaring posters of the Cinema theatre depicting every sort of horrid crime so that a stranger must conclude that Englishmen are for the most part thieves and vicious characters, caring for little else but scenes of a most depraved nature.
Until quite recently the site of the theatre was identified with a plot of ground formerly occupied by Deane’s Mews, situated in the neighbourhood of the present King John’s Court. This site had never been questioned until the appearance of the London County Council pamphlet giving the details where the structure was erected. Halliwell-Phillipps first described the site as being on the Deane’s Mews property in his Illustrations to Shakespeare. The pamphlet mentioned above is the work of Mr. W. W. Braines, whose untiring efforts and keen critical research have succeeded in revealing the exact spot on which the first theatre was erected. For years past I had searched in vain for Deane’s Mews but without success; in fact, this place was becoming to be regarded as a myth, no one having heard of such a name. A friend of mine, Mr. Charles Edwards, a fellow member of the Stock Exchange, had presented me with a handsome folio volume, giving details of all improvements in the Metropolitan area within the last fifty years. This compilation has been enriched with a wealth of plans, exact measurements and the necessary explanatory notes reflecting the greatest credit on the accomplished editor, Mr. Percy Edwards, a brother of my friend. On referring to this book I found Deane’s Mews plainly marked, which stood about 200 ft. south of the true site. The Mews was swept away in the construction of Gt. Eastern St. in 1873–76, and its site is now covered by the latter thoroughfare.
On leaving the City at the junction between Wormwood Street and Camomile Street, where formerly stood the gate entrance to the City, called Bishopsgate, we will proceed down Bishopsgate towards Norton Folgate, thence passing into High Street, Shoreditch. From the High Street we soon reach New Inn Yard, turning up this lane, at a distance of 120 yards we arrive near the site of The Theatre, which was situated about fifty feet north of this street and within a few feet of the east side of the Curtain Road. In earlier times this district formed part of the celebrated Holywell Priory. A detailed account of this ancient abbey would be a welcome addition to the ecclesiastical and topographical history of London. I hope this little volume from which the above details are taken will be consulted by all Londoners, a perusal of which might instil into their minds a greater interest in the past history of their wonderful city. Actual experience teaches me that few people take any intelligent interest in the subject or any other which does not in some particular manner add to their commercial prosperity. Naturally, where so many neglect the pleasures of the mind, the ignorance and stupidity of the majority of the people pass unnoticed, otherwise any person totally unacquainted with the history of the City of London would be looked upon as a common lout, fitting only to herd with the base-minded.
I know from actual experience that few people take any intelligent interest in this great and all-absorbing subject. I have, alas, met several so-called educated men and women who have freely acknowledged that they are quite indifferent concerning the history of the past, although no subject of any importance can be thoroughly discussed without allusion to previous events. This attitude almost of revulsion exhibited by so many people for past history must have some deeply based reason for its existence. Many would explain this contempt for the past by the greater attraction of the wonderful world of science and mechanical transport. In my opinion, the real cause of this feeling is that the greater part of the population set up their idols to the worship of sport, which the public schools and universities ever delight to honour, and which, in my mind, is a public scandal which should be inquired into, and the authorities that encourage such wild orgies, severely reprimanded. The fascinating study of literature and art fill no void in the daily routine of their lives, a state of affairs greatly to be regretted; the welfare of the future generation rests with the teachers of the elementary schools, who should endeavour to foster in the young a genuine love for literature and all the arts that tend in elevating the mind. My enquiry why so few take any interest in these refining studies is generally met with the foolish and ill-bred answer that no immediate benefit is derived from these studies, as if the delights of the mind can be gauged by material benefits.
One more parting shaft. A governing corporation that sanctioned the demolition of Crosby Hall ought themselves to be demolished, or at least hounded out of the City by the citizens that placed them in power.
Although this theatre was situated outside the City boundary, the distance from the Metropolis was so short that Londoners were able to reach their destination without undue discomfort and fatigue. Notwithstanding that The Theatre was surrounded by fields, this obstacle proved to be of a negligible quantity. The novelty of the building and the vigorous dramatic force of the plays appealed to a populace ever seeking for amusement, and made this playhouse a success from its inauguration until its final destruction nearly a quarter of a century later. Londoners of to-day would consider any place surrounded by fields a pretty fair distance from the Metropolis, but towards the end of the sixteenth century the country could be reached in about a quarter of an hour by sharp walking from any point in the City, which at that date constituted London proper. The reason that Burbage, the proprietor, sought a locality for his projected theatre outside the centre of the business life of the City was primarily on account of the intense puritanical hatred against all theatrical entertainments, the mark of the beast being shown by the Lord Mayor and Corporation, who threatened with ejectment all the players from the City. The crisis came in 1576, when an order was promulgated by which all places of amusement were to be closed. This order principally affected all inn-yards where plays were held, also bear and bull baiting establishments. Driven almost to desperation, the players resolved on quitting the City before the order was set in motion. James Burbage, one of the leading actors in the Earl of Leicester’s Company, was by trade a joiner, and quite appropriately the builder of the first organized theatre not only in England but in modern Europe. This momentous decision proved of untold benefit in the course of the development of the drama, besides protecting his company from molestation and persecution. This almost inspired act prepared the way for the mighty genius who holds the world in awe, who was thus able to profit by this vast improvement and decisive innovation in the dramatic world. By taking this bold step the object of the City Fathers was completely frustrated, and their deep-laid schemes, in which the poor player was to be totally annihilated, recoiled on their own heads. The new venture was an instant success, instilling into the drama fresh blood and a long lease of life, daily growing more popular and prosperous and drawing within the charmed circle every class of citizen, with the exception of the puritan brigade.
The site chosen by Burbage for his first theatre was within the precincts of the ancient Priory of Holywell, a celebrated landmark in early Tudor times. The Priory was an ancient foundation originally built in the second decade of the twelfth century. The ground on which it stood was bequeathed by a Canon of St. Paul’s to a religious body of women known as the Benedictine Nuns. The building remained in their possession until the total suppression of all monastic orders in this country by the Mandate of Henry the Eighth. The Dissolution began about the year 1538, but the total extinction of the Abbey, including the Chantries, Chapels, and Churches, was not finally accomplished until ten years later. The last notice of the Priory as a living centre can be traced to the year 1539, when Sybilla Newdigate, the prioress, delivered up her house to the King. The suppression of the Monasteries was one of those drastic acts by which means the King defied the spiritual and temporal power of Rome, and proclaimed to the English people that he alone was supreme head of the Church in England.
The origin of the name Holywell is traceable to a well which existed in the parish of St. Leonard’s, Shoreditch, early in the twelfth century. The exact site of this well is unknown, but somewhere in close proximity to the new theatre. One authority states explicitly that it is discoverable, but now concealed from view in the present Bateman’s Row. An interesting relic of the ancient Priory can still be seen in the shape of an old stone wall about 50 ft. long, in a timber yard in High Street, Shoreditch. I must candidly admit that I have not seen this relic, but its existence is vouched by excellent authority. Immediately succeeding the Dissolution, the Priory was demolished and let out on building leases to various tenants. Stow, the London historian, writes: “Thence up to the late dissolved Priory, called Holywell, a house of Nuns. The Priory was valued at the Suppression to having lands £293 by year and was surrendered in 1539. The Church thereof being pulled down, many houses have been builded for the lodging of noblemen, of strangers and of others.” When the old Abbey was portioned into estates, one important lot fell into the hands of Henry Webb, who eventually disposed of it to Christopher Bumsted, who disposed of the same property to Giles Allen, from whom James Burbage took over a lease in 1576. All the minute particulars respecting the site of The Theatre are mostly due to a protracted lawsuit between Giles and Burbage, the records of which have been fortunately preserved, and were made public by J. O. Halliwell-Phillipps. The lease granted by Giles to Burbage contained a curious clause to the effect that Burbage was willing to accept a lease for twenty-one years provided that, at the termination of that period, the said Burbage, having expended the sum of not less than two hundred pounds on the building in the course of ten years, should have the option of taking down and removing the same to any locality he might select. A further clause also provided for an extension of the lease after the expiration of 21 years. For the present we will pass over the first 21 years and come to the critical year in the affairs of this playhouse. When the first lease was on point of expiry, James Burbage commenced negotiations for an extension of time, but unfortunately, while these particulars were being discussed, the original lessee, James Burbage died. By his will the interest of his Shoreditch property devolved upon his two sons, Richard and Cuthbert, the former being the famous actor; of the latter little is known, he may have been an actor in his brother’s company. The two sons, in an interview with Allen, the owner of the property, now demanded afresh an extension of the lease, Allen would have acceded to their request provided they paid an additional ten pounds a year and further stipulated that after five years from the signing of the new lease they must be prepared to use the property for other purposes than theatrical entertainments.
The new lease was never signed; nevertheless, for a brief period the Burbages remained in possession. No one will deny but that the tenants had a very uncomfortable and insecure tenure of the premises. The lessees must have realized the perilous position of their tenancy, which was liable to foreclosure at any moment. Being faced with this predicament they hit upon a desperate remedy. As stated above, a clause was inserted in the original lease whereby they had the right in pulling down and removing the said building. No sooner had they resolved upon this expedient than the plan was quietly carried into effect, thereby causing the lawsuit with Giles Allen, and incidentally throwing light on the early annals of the theatre. The following paragraph is an extract from Allen’s Bill of Complaints against Cuthbert Burbage, who “unlawfully combining and confederating himself with the said Richard Burbage and one Peter Street, William Smith, and divers other persons to the number of twelve, to your subject unknown, did about the eighth and twentieth day of December, in the one and fortieth year of your Highness’ reign, and since then your Highness’ last and general pardon by the confederacy aforesaid notoriously assemble themselves with divers and many unlawful and offensive weapons as namely, swords, daggers, billes, axes, and such like, and so armed did then repair unto the said Theatre, and then and there armed as aforesaid in very riotous, outrageous and forcible manner, and contrary to the laws of your Highness’ realm, attempted to pull down the said Theatre whereupon divers of your subjects, servants and farmers, then going about in peaceable manner to procure them from that their unlawful enterprise, that the said riotous persons aforesaid, notwithstanding procured then thereon with great violence, not only then and there forcible and riotously resisting your subjects, servants and farmers, and also then and there pulling down, breaking and throwing down the said Theatre in very outrageous and violent and riotous sort to the great disturbance and terrifying, not only of your subjects, said servants and farmers, but of divers others of your Majesty’s loving subjects there near inhabiting and having so done did then also in most forcible and riotous manner take and carry away from thence all the wood and timber thereof unto the Bankside in the parish of St. Overyes and there erected a new playhouse with the said timber and wood!”
All the world knows that the said new playhouse was the famous Globe Theatre, the glory of the Bankside and the scene of Shakespeare’s everlasting creations. Stow, the historian of London, in the first edition of the Survey of the City of London, mentions The Theatre by name in the following paragraph: “The church thereof being pulled downe, many houses have been builded for the lodging of noblemen of strangers borne and other. And neare thereunto are builded two publique houses for the acting and shewe of Comedies, Tragedies and Histories for recreation. Whereof the one is called the Courtein, the other the Theatre, both standing on the Southwest side towards the field.” The last few lines from “Whereof to field” were omitted in the second edition in 1603. The learned editor of the latest and best edition of this famous book, Charles Kingsford, M.A., by a slip of the pen, in a note to this passage, refers to the Curtain as having been demolished in 1600; of course, it should be the Theatre, and the date should be 1598. The field mentioned by Stow formed part of the well-known Finsbury Fields, the playground of Elizabethan Londoners; these fields abutted on Moorfields, which formed the boundary of North-East London. Many citizens took advantage of these open fields and used them as a short cut to the playhouse, generally going thither on horseback. This manner of approaching the playhouse may account for the tradition that Shakespeare on his first arrival in London held horses outside the building.
Sometime in 1576 the players were safely installed in the new building, notwithstanding the removal from the precincts of the City, persecution soon dogged their footsteps, inaugurated by a bitter attack from the puritan section of the community. The onslaught came from a clergyman in a book entitled A Treatise against Dicing, Dancing and Interludes with other idle pastimes, published in 1577. The author of this venomous tirade rebuking all kinds of amusement was John Northbroke, a preacher and procurator for the Bristol Clergy in the Synod of London. The tract is in the form of a dialogue between Youth and Age.
“Youth. Do you speak against these places also which are made up and builded for such plays and interludes as The Theatre and Curtain are and other such like places tendes.”
“Age. Yea, truly for I am persuaded that Satan hath not a more speedy way and fitter school to work and teach his desire to bring men and women into his snare than these places and plays and theatres are, and therefore necessary that these places and plays should be forbidden and dissolved and put down by authority.”
One of the earliest references to the recently built theatres was made by Thomas Wilcox, a notorious divine, on December 9th, 1576, whose life will be found in the Dictionary of National Biography. He referred to the Theatre and the Curtain as “those sumptuous theatre houses.”
The earliest references to The Theatre, by name, is mentioned in an order of the Privy Council, dated 1st August, 1577, “for the avoiding of the sickness likely to happen through the heat of the weather and assemblies of the people of London to plays,” measures should be taken that “such as are and do use to play without the Liberties of the City ... as the theater and such like, shall forbear any more to play until Mighelmas be past.”
After an interval of one year from the Rev. Northbroke’s outburst another preacher mounted the pulpit, delivering a vigorous sermon in denunciation of “The Theatre.” This divine was a schoolmaster named Stockton, headmaster of Tonbridge School, where he held indisputable sway, widely known as a severe disciplinarian, and a writer of many devotional works. The following is an extract from a sermon preached at St. Paul’s Cross: “Have we not houses of purpose built with great charges for the maintenance of them, and that without the Liberties, as who shall say ‘There let them say what they will we will play.’ I know not how I might with the godly learned especially more discommend the gorgeous playing places erected in the fields than term it as they please to have it called a Theatre. Will not a filthy play with a blast of a trumpet sooner call thither a thousand than an hour’s tolling of the bell bring to a sermon a hundred? Nay, even here in the City, without it be at this place and some other ordinary audience where you shall find a rehearsal of company, whereas if you visit to the Theatre the Curtain and other places of players in the City you shall on the Lord’s Day have their places with many other that I cannot reckon so full as possible they can throng.”
In most ages, even the present one, the clergy have persistently set their faces against play acting without sufficiently analysing the reasons for their embittered attacks, therefore their testimony must be accepted as prejudiced partisans, which neither voice the view of the populace nor of the cultured classes. Contemporary records afford ample proof that the stage was frequented by all sorts and conditions of people, the rowdy section seeming to predominate, only the puritanical section, chiefly composed of the middle classes, kept aloof. The popularity of the drama, acclaimed by the upper classes, saved it from complete annihilation, otherwise the authorities would have banished every player beyond the City walls. The sole cause of hatred against the players can only be accounted for by the strong puritanical feeling existing in the breasts of the City Fathers, which expressed itself in denouncing with unseemly rage and bitterness any kind of entertainment in which the citizens evinced the slightest pleasure. Any pretext, however flimsy, was seized upon with avidity, thereby exhibiting their petty spite against the players. When the plague raged the theatres were closed. If any act of disturbance occurred the theatres were closed. On Saints’ days, Holydays and Festivals the theatres were closed. Orders were frequently issued permitting stage plays only on certain days in the week. Every device was instituted in their endeavour to persecute the poor player, but, in spite of all these tyrannical enactments, the drama continued to flourish exceedingly, attracting hundreds of people who found employment in connexion with the stage.
Another early reference to the Theatre is found in a volume of a contemporary author. John Florio, an Italian refugee, who instructed the English aristocracy in the niceties of the Italian language, in a book entitled Dialogues and Proverbs First Frutes, published in 1578, is the following passage: “We will go into the Fields. Let us go to the Theatre to see a comedie. What pastimes are they in England on holidays? Of all sortes of pastyme, as Comedies, Tragedies, leaping, dancing, playes of defence, Baiting of Beasts, etc.” The above paragraph is in the form of a dialogue. This reference is rarely met with, I believe Mrs. Carmichael Stopes was the first to point it out. “In the year 1580, Burbage was summoned before the Middlesex Court on a charge of bringing together unlawful assemblies of people to hear and see certain colloquies or interludes called plays, exercised by James Burbage and divers other persons unknown, at a certain place called The Theatre, in Halliwell, in the aforesaid county. By reason of which unlawful assembly of the people great affrays, assaults and tumults and quasi-insurrections and divers other misdeeds and enormities have been then and there done and perpetrated by very many ill-disposed persons to the great disturbance of the peace.” This statement is a gross exaggeration, but its very overstatement suffices in explaining the attitude the authorities assumed in the extreme measures adopted by them in suppressing play-acting. How unfair and unjust appear the means by which a body of English magistrates endeavoured to abolish theatrical institutions. No statement was too false, no lie uttered was deemed sinful; the airiest motive was seized upon with eagerness if by such means any discredit was cast upon the acting fraternity. For years they were harassed, tormented and bandied about from place to place, and this persecution lasted even whilst the greatest dramatic literature of all time was daily being represented before an ever increasing and admiring public.
For this drastic treatment we may seek some condonement and extenuating circumstances in the religious belief of the country, the people being chiefly guided by the clergy, who instilled in them the belief that all things connected with the stage were injurious and harmful to the community. Imbued with these ideas the clergy considered themselves justified by using every means in their power in overthrowing and abolishing the stage out of the kingdom. Many of these reverend fanatics were admitted on the Council of Administration, who continually persisted in their endeavours to oust the players, at any rate, out of the City; in furtherance of their plans they preached the sinfulness of the drama in order to drive away the people from the playhouses. Their pleadings were partially successful; by continual exhortations they succeeded in poisoning the minds of the middle classes, who accordingly absented themselves from all places of amusement. The chief patrons of the drama were drawn from the upper and lower classes much in the same way as the Turf to-day exercises on the same classes, the middle class in this instance displaying great good sense and morality by staying away from such an unhealthy and discreditable amusement.
Although the Corporation were powerful enough in forcing the players from places under their control, they were powerless in suppressing play-acting during the entire reigns of Elizabeth and James. The year 1584 was memorable on account of a disturbance which occurred outside the Theatre, thereby causing the assembly of a great crowd. Quickly seizing this event as an excuse, the authorities petitioned that this building and the Curtain should be pulled down. The Court considered the punishment too drastic; nevertheless, the Corporation persisted, eventually obtaining letters ordering the demolition of both theatres: “Upon Sunday my Lord sent 2 Aldermen to the Court for the suppressing and pulling down of the Theatre and Curtain for all the Lords agreed thereunto, saving my Lord Chamberlain and Mr. Viech, but we obtained a letter to suppress them all. Upon the same night I sent for the Queen’s players and my Lord Arundel his players, and they all well nigh obeyed the Lords’ letters. The chiefest of her Highness’ players advised me to send for the owner of the Theatre, who was a stubborn fellow, and to bind him. I did so. He sent me word that he was my Lord Hunsdon’s man, and that he would not come to me, but he would in the morning ride to my Lord. Then I sent the under Sheriff for him, and he brought him to me, and at his coming he shouted me out very Justice, and in the end I showed him my Lord his master’s hand, and then he was more quiet, but to die for it he would not be bound. And then I, minding to send him to prison, he made suit that he might be bound to appear at the Oyer and determined the which is to-morrow, where he said he was sure the Court would not bind him, being a counselor’s man, and so I have granted his request, where he shall be sure to be bound or else is like to do worse.”
Again, for fear of riots, official notices were distributed that the Theatre be closed. “There shall be no plays at the Theatre or other usual place where the same are commonly used.” These orders were frequently circulated; whether they were put into execution is doubtful. Considering the restrictions that hemmed around the poor player, Shakespeare’s lament that through ill-fortune he became a player need cause no surprise, considering the persecution that was directed against the theatrical profession.
A passage in Dante’s “Inferno” might, with slight alterations, exactly fit the actions of our own civic authorities during the reign of Elizabeth. “As in the Venetian Arsenal, the pitch boils in the winter time wherewith to caulk their rotten ships. But, looking down into the chasm, I could see nothing except the bubbles that its boiling raised. And as I looked at it fixedly and wondered, my guide drew me back hastily, saying, ‘Look! look!’ And when I turned I saw behind us a black devil come running along the rocks. Oh, how wild his face, oh, how bitter his action, as he came with his wings wide, light upon his feet, on his shoulder he bore a sinner grasped by both haunches, and when he came to the bridge foot he cried down the pit: ‘Here’s an Alderman from the City of London; put him under that I may fetch more for the land is full of such.’”
Before the total destruction of The Theatre there is a reference to the “unfrequented Theatre” in Skialetheia, a series of satires entered in the Stationers’ Register on the 15th September, 1598.
The literature of the day barely mentions the name of The Theatre, yet this building had flourished for over a period of twenty years. Stow mentions the Theatre once, only to be withdrawn from his second edition, possibly the sour old Puritan, condemned in his heart all play acting, and fervently desired the expulsion of all actors, plays, and their authors from the domain of the City. The antiquary, Stow, may well represent a type of the better class citizen utterly unsympathetic with the new drama, and entirely adverse to all kinds of amusement. This prejudiced feeling may account for the complete silence in any of his works of theatrical life, which during his time was daily growing into importance and significance. We have explained the silence of the old topographer, but how can we interpret the passing over of this side of London life by all literary coteries. The Metropolis swarmed with writers of books and pamphlets dealing with contemporary events, most of the authors were connected with the theatrical world, yet you may search in vain thousands of books in the expectation of finding any critical or explanatory notices of the stage. The conspiracy of silence is so well maintained that we are left almost unacquainted with theatrical conditions which governed the Elizabethan stage, whilst of the Greek stage which flourished over two thousand years previously we have minute particulars in all its branches. Why such a great novelty, as an enclosed theatre should not have been freely discussed, written about, and above all, criticised, remains one of the mysteries of the age? Fortunately, a few foreigners from among the throng who visited these shores jotted down their experiences of London, including therein the amusements of the town, not forgetting to describe briefly a list of theatres.
No drawing, print, or any kind of illustration depicting the first theatre erected in London has been handed down to us. Under these circumstances conjectural reconstruction of its walls is quite permissible, although extreme caution is necessary when guided by imaginary probabilities. The information we possess regarding the later theatres may in some measure help us in forming a fairly accurate account of the early theatres. A period of over twenty years had elapsed between the building of The Theatre and that of the Fortune; concerning the latter, interesting details are forthcoming. Between these dates the type may have altered and improvements been introduced, which is only natural considering the long interval. We obtain our first glimpse of the early theatre buildings from quite a most unexpected quarter.
Samuel Kiechel, a foreigner, visited England in 1585. On his arrival in London he patronised several places of amusement, recording in his Diary the impressions and facts of his journey. The following extract is taken from his published journal; the notice about the stage only concerns us. “There are some peculiar houses in which are so constructed that they have about three galleries one above the other. It may indeed happen that the players take from £10 to £12 at a time, particularly if they act anything new, when people have to pay double. And that they perform nearly every day in the week, notwithstanding that plays are forbidden on Friday and Saturday; this prohibition is not observed.”
Contemporary literature informs us that the exterior of The Theatre was round, either hexagonal or octagonal, differing little from the illustrations as shown in maps of the period. Nash, in the Unfortunate Traveller, writes: “I saw a banquetting house belonging to a merchant that was the marvel of the world. It was built round, of green marble like a Theatre without.”
As will be seen above, only scraps of evidence are available in piecing together the reconstruction of The Theatre; as regards the interior absolutely nothing definitely is known beyond the important statement that three galleries surrounded the building. The first theatre was not solely devoted to dramatic entertainments, as records exist of fencing matches and other exhibitions of skill taking place there. Stow, the historian, notes that “activities were produced within its walls.” The word “activities” denotes tumbling, rope dancing, vaulting and other acrobatic feats. Halliwell-Phillipps publishes a letter dated July 1st, 1582, from the Earl of Warwick to the Lord Mayor and Aldermen, requesting them to allow his servant, John David, to play at “The Bull” in Bishopsgate Street, or in some other convenient place. On the 23rd of the same month the Earl again wrote to the Lord Mayor complaining of the treatment and disgrace put upon his servant in not being allowed to play for prizes after the publication of his bills. The following day the Earl received a reply from the Lord Mayor saying he had not refused permission for his servant to play for prizes, but had granted him a licence, only restraining him from playing in an inn for fear of the infection, and had appointed him to play in an open space at the Leaden Hall. Not having availed himself of the permission for fourteen days, and the infection increasing, it became necessary to prohibit the assembly of the people to his play within the City, but permission had been granted him to perform in the open fields. “I have herein yet further done for your servant what I may, that is that if he may obtain lawfully to play at The Theatre or other open place out of the City, he hath and shall have my permission with his company, drums and show, to pass only through the City, being not upon the Sunday, which is as much as I may justify in this season, and for that cause I have with his own consent appointed him Monday next.”
Another reference occurs in the following year, in which the Lord Mayor writes to the Justice of the Peace, praying for the assistance of the Corporation in preventing a breach of the peace by refusing the people permission to congregate about “The Theatre.” Gosson, in both his prose works, The School of Abuse and Plays Confuted in two Actions, mentions two plays usually produced at the Theatre, namely, “The Blacksmith’s Daughter” and “Cataline’s Conspiracy”; the former is mentioned in Plays Confuted and the latter in The School of Abuse, 1579.
The most interesting notice in connexion with plays acted at The Theatre will be found in a paragraph from Thomas Lodge’s book entitled Wit’s Miserie or the World’s Madness, 1596, in which a reference is made to the old play of “Hamlet,” whose authorship is generally assigned to Thomas Kyd, the writer of the famous “Spanish Tragedy,” the most popular drama of the Elizabethan period. Shakespeare himself refers to this play more than once. Although the old “Hamlet” is lost there are excellent grounds for presuming that this play is the main source of Shakespeare’s supreme masterpiece of “Hamlet,” the greatest achievement in the dramatic literature of the world. The paragraph in reference to the Theatre reads as follows: “He looks as pale as the vizard of the ghost which cries so miserably at the Theatre like an oysterwife Hamlet revenge.” The Theatre is again referred to by Middleton in the Black Book, 1604: “He had a head of hair like one of the devils in Dr. Faustes when the old Theatre cracked and frightened the audience.”
A foreign prince visited these shores in 1596, and wrote a poem in commemoration of the event, dated the same year as his visit. He writes that London possesses four theatres, which are utilized not only for dramatic purposes but for baiting of bulls, besides cock fighting. Another early reference to The Theatre occurs in a rare pamphlet called “Tarlton’s Newes out of Purgatory,” published without date, but definitely known to be printed either in 1590 or earlier. The passage is as follows: “And forsooth upon Whitsun Monday last I would needs to the Theatre to a play when I came I found such a concourse of unrulye people that I thought it better solitary to walk in the fields. Feeding my humour with this fancy, I stept by Dame Anne of Cleares well where after I had rested awhile I fell asleep.” Nash, the dramatist, mentions Tarlton as playing at the Theatre in a pamphlet named “Pierce Penilesse,” 1592. Stow, in his survey of London, mentions this well; the origin of the name is founded on a sordid story of old London. A rich London widow, named Annis Cleare, who, matching herself with a riotous courtier in the time of Edward II, who vainly consumed all her wealth and leaving her in much poverty, there she drowned herself, being then but a shallow ditch or running water. Mr. Kingsford, in his learned edition of the Survey, notes “that this well was near Paul’s St., Finsbury, in the neighbourhood of which there still is a St. Agnes Terrace. The name of St. Agness Clare Fields continued till a hundred years ago.” I wandered all over this district in the hope of finding St. Agnes Terrace, but my search was fruitless. On my return I consulted the London County Council’s directory of the Streets of London, and after looking through that ponderous volume for over one hour, I found that the terrace was formerly a part of what is now Tabernacle Street, the old name being abolished in 1884.
During the early years of the theatres the stage was merely a platform, which could be easily removed when necessary; as before mentioned, the theatres were used for other than dramatic performances. The stage platform jutted out far into the yard, the technical name for the space allotted to the audience. The spectators who occupied this part of the building were called the groundlings. The yard surrounded the platform on three sides, the stage buildings occupying the fourth, the audience reaching up as far as the barrier, which divided the stage from the auditorium. The roof was open to the sky, the actors protecting themselves from the elements by erecting a kind of lean-to or pent-house, sloping down from the tiring house; this contrivance was technically called the “Heavens” or “shadow,” either thatched or tiled. At the rear of the stage was the tiring-house, sometimes used as an inner-stage, when not required by the actors, and was concealed by a curtain. Above the inner stage stood a balcony, flanked on both sides by rooms for noblemen or gentry. These special places were known as the Lords’ rooms. Over the second story rose a turret, from which commanding view a flag fluttered announcing the immediate performance of a play. Only two doors of entry were considered necessary, one in front of the house admitting the audience to the yard and galleries, and a second situated at the back of the building, used by the actors and better class of spectators who occupied the expensive seats. The reason for the limited number of doors can be explained by the terms of agreement between the lessee and the actors. Burbage did not lease his theatre to a company of actors, but shared the risk of the undertaking with them, receiving for his share the money taken for the galleries, the players dividing among themselves the rest of the proceeds. This arrangement, in course of time, was subject to alterations. The same system, with slight variations, was adopted in all theatres during the Shakespearean era.
The chief action of the play took place on the outer stage, no curtain of any description concealing this part of the stage either before or after or during the performance, the only curtain or tapestry in lieu of a curtain noticeable was that dividing the inner from the outer stage, and even beyond Shakespeare’s time this ever open stage existed. When the Theatre was first erected in 1576 there may have been no inner stage, and the entire change of properties may have been placed in sight of the audience. The Theatre was built entirely of wood, and only good fortune must have saved the building from being destroyed by fire. The Theatre, no doubt, stood in its own grounds, and this isolated position accounts for its withstanding the accidents which all wooden buildings are more or less subject. All performances in a public theatre were enacted during the day time, in the afternoon between the hours of two and five or three and six. The theatre, not being lighted, necessarily enforced the closing of the play before dusk. The acting of a play lasted between two to three hours; a Shakespearean drama would take nearer three than two hours to perform, sometimes even longer, even in those days the blue pencil was liberally used, many passages being cut, not on account of dramatic propriety but merely to shorten the performance. On entering an Elizabethan theatre the first object that met the eye of the spectator was a placard announcing the name of the play for the afternoon. Although theatre posters were put up in different parts of the City and on the theatre walls, informing the public of the date of a given play, unforeseen circumstances sometimes prevented the advertised play being performed. Unfortunately none of these bills has survived. How interesting would be the perusal of the play bill announcing the first performance of “Hamlet.” That these placards were affixed to posts is corroborated by the following anecdote related by Taylor, the water-poet, in one of his pamphlets. “A merchant was riding down Fleet Street at a great pace, when he was stopped by an actor, who questioned him as to the name of the play being acted. The merchant was indignant at being thus waylaid, and asked the man why he had stopped him; the answer he made was ‘I took you for the post you went so fast.’”
How a play was presented before a public audience when first produced at The Theatre cannot be satisfactorily solved, the subject dealing with all branches of theatrical customs, has never been thoroughly investigated, owing chiefly to want of the necessary literary materials; every writer on the subject may thus air his theories without much fear of contradiction, the critics themselves disagreeing how far scenic decorations had advanced during the Shakespearean era. Though the little we do know on this thorny subject would seem to militate against scenery of any description being employed, I have always held the opinion that the stage was not so bare of scenic effects as most historians of the early stage would have us believe. Stage properties of every size and description were extensively used by all companies of players of any importance. With respect to the stage, the general view maintained is that the outer stage or platform of The Theatre closely resembled the stage of a French theatre during the performance of a play of Molière’s; in that case the Elizabethan stage would be absolutely bare with the exception of a table and a couple of chairs. Experience convinces me that in the course of time this theory will be thoroughly revolutionized, and proof will be forthcoming that scenic effect with certain limitations, flourished during the Shakespearean age.
As previously stated, the title of the play was exhibited on the stage, printed or written in large text letters. Some writers affirm that the title was exposed in full view of the audience from the balcony of the stage. Exact confirmation on these minor details cannot be expected. When the play advertised on the posts differed from the one actually performed, the playgoer was entitled to have his money refunded provided he quitted the theatre.
Three blasts of a trumpet announced the beginning of a play, and a flag was displayed flying from the turret showing that a play was in progress. The spectators in the yard, being unprovided with seats, were left standing during the entire performance.
I remember years ago visiting a theatre in Vienna, where a musical comedy was acted, and where all the occupants of the parterre, or pit, viewed the play standing, as no seats of any kind were provided in this part of the theatre.
How a change of scene was notified, if indeed any change was made, nothing definitely is known. The most likely plan adopted lacking painted scenery, would be by what is technically known as locality boards, something resembling the device employed by the modern music hall artist engaged in character sketches. A board is placed in a prominent position of the stage in full view of the audience with the name of the character assumed by the performer, the board being changed on each separate occasion when a different character is assumed. Apply this method in the changing of the scene in an Elizabethan theatre and then you can better understand Shakespeare’s exhortation in his prologues of “Henry V” when he urges the audience that their imagination must fill up the void caused by want of necessary scenery. To our modern notions the number of scenes in a Shakespearean play is quite bewildering; the very number precludes the idea that the scene was changed at all. The question is such a difficult one, and of such an intricate and technical nature that further discussion at our present state of knowledge would only confuse the reader without providing him with a key for its solution.
The primitive device of locality boards was sarcastically alluded to by Sir Philip Sidney in his “Defence of Poesie”: “What childe is there that coming to a Play, and seeing Thebes written in great letters on an olde doore, doth believe that it is Thebes. You shall have Asia on the one side and Africa on the other and so many other under Kingdoms that the player when he cometh in must even begin with telling where he is or else the tale will not be conceived. Now ye shall have three ladies walk to gather flowers and then we must believe the stage to be a garden. By and by we have news of a shipwreck in the same place, and then we are to blame if we accept it not for a rock. Upon the back of that comes out a hideous monster with fire and smoke, and then the miserable beholders are bound to take it for a cave. While in the meantime two armies fly in represented with four swords and bucklers, and then what hard heart will not receive it for a pitched field.”
In reading the above paragraph the reader must bear in mind that this ironical criticism was penned many years before Shakespeare commenced his dramatic career. During the long interval several improvements may have taken place in stage effects, so that a Shakesperean play may have been produced under more promising conditions than Sidney’s statement would allow.
An interesting chapter could be written explaining the mode of payment existing at these times on entering an inn-yard or theatre when a play was in progress. On the erection of the public theatres our information, although scanty, becomes a trifle more definitive; unfortunately no light is thrown on the methods in vogue at the inn-yards, although we learn that payment was collected on entering a theatre. As we should naturally expect, the system is different in many respects from modern methods. From literary sources we gather that a man, or even a woman, was stationed at the entrance door of a theatre, in his hand he held a box into which everyone who entered dropped a penny; note well that the money was always deposited in the box and not handed over into the keeping of the boxholder, by which act we must regretfully conclude that Elizabethan doorkeepers were in no way more trusted than our ’bus and tram conductors of the present day, more’s the pity! This preliminary payment admitted the playgoer into the yard, where he could remain without further fee; if a more comfortable place was desired, the disbursement of an extra penny provided for him a seat or stool in the topmost gallery. At this stage we learn how the extra money was collected. At each separate entrance of the different parts of the house stood a doorkeeper, technically known as a “gatherer.” This system of payment was adopted on account of the lessee of the theatre sharing in the profits of the house instead of, as in modern times, leasing the building into the hands of a third party, only receiving the rent and taking no share in the proceeds of the house.
In a lawsuit respecting the different shares claimed by each shareholder, Cuthbert Burbage, the son of the original builder of The Theatre, states that his father, James Burbage, borrowed large sums of money at interest with which he built the first playhouse known as The Theatre. The players that lived in these times, 1576–1597, had only the profits arising from the doors, but now the players receive all the comings in at the doors to themselves. By the term “housekeepers” is meant the proprietors, those that are responsible for the rent and money laid out in connexion with the managing of a theatre.
The entrance fee for seats in the lowest tier of the gallery was sixpence, twelvepence was the charge for a seat in the Lords’ room; these boxes were partitioned off from the other seats in the lowermost gallery. Rooms and boxes were also provided on each side of the balcony, which formed part of the stage buildings; these seats were also expensive, but in later years they were abandoned on account of the poor view, and also for the evil repute into which they had fallen. These high-price seats equalled the price of a stall at our present West End theatres. Whether these charges ruled at all Elizabethan theatres during the last decade of the sixteenth century cannot be definitely affirmed, but considering the conservatism maintained in theatrical customs, for generations, no doubt, only slight changes were introduced. Whether seats were allowed on the stage of “The Theatre” is nowhere recorded; most probably this was a much later custom. Even at the Globe Theatre, built twenty years after the erection of the first theatre, a well known historian of the stage positively asserts that seats on the Globe stage for privileged spectators were practically unknown.
A list of plays acted at the Theatre would have been a valuable and interesting document, but unfortunately no such account exists, in place thereof we must be thankful for the known fragmentary records. Gosson, in his School of Abuse, 1579, mentions the Blacke Smith’s Daughter and Catalins Conspiracies “usually brought into the Theatre”; he likewise refers to “the history of Cæsar & Pompey and the Playe of the Fabic, at the Theatre.” The old “Hamlet” and Marlowe’s “Dr. Fauste” were also produced there.
The last order issued against The Theatre appeared in 1597 from the office of the Privy Council to certain of the Middlesex Justices to the effect that “Her Majesty being informed that there are very great disorders committed in the common playhouses both by lewd matters that are handled on the stage, and by resort and confluence of bad people, hath given direction that these playhouses that are erected and built only for such purposes, shall be plucked down, namely, The Curtain and The Theatre near to Shoreditch. They were accordingly commanded to send for the owners of the Curtain theatre or any other common playhouse and enjoin them by virtue hereof forthwith to pluck down quite the stages, galleries and rooms that are made for people to stand in, and to deface the same as they may not be employed again to such use.” This order was never enforced, but henceforth the Theatre as a playhouse was doomed, and after that year the actors quitted it for ever.
Many of the above details connected with the early theatres are derived from innumerable lawsuits caused by disputes among people engaged at the different theatres; these old cases have been unearthed and printed in extenso. Another source of information is obtained from the continual bickering, backbiting and petty annoyance emanating chiefly from the City authorities. These purse-proud, pompous and puritanical individuals endeavoured by any means and at all costs in suppressing theatres, players and playwrights with their followers. Through these jealousies, acrimonious actions, on both sides ensued, quite out of harmony with the innocent recreations of play-acting. Actions at law followed these unseemly outbursts, thanks to which we are indebted for many details concerning the early theatres. From the beginning of the history of the stage, the reader will observe that the players were always prohibited from erecting a theatre within the City boundaries. The favour of the Court saved the actors from being excluded altogether from the City; proof of this last statement will be found in the many instances of the actors setting up their stages in the yards of the City taverns and inns all through the reign of Elizabeth.