In the Netherlands the English players, according to Moryson, brought themselves into a singular difficulty. Here, too, was no native stage:
'For Commedians, they litle practise that Arte, and are the poorest Actours that can be imagined, as my selfe did see when the Citty of Getrudenberg being taken by them from the Spanyards, they made bonsfyers and publikely at Leyden represented that action in a play, so rudely as the poore Artizans of England would haue both penned and acted it much better. So as at the same tyme when some cast players of England came into those partes, the people not vnderstanding what they sayd, only for theere action followed them with wonderfull concourse, yea many young virgines fell in loue with some of the players, and followed them from citty to citty, till the magistrates were forced to forbid them to play any more.'[977]
Moryson's account finds confirmation in the praise lavished upon English acting by German writers, such as Erhard Cellius in 1605, Joannes Rhenanus about 1610, and Daniel von Wensin in 1613.[978] Undoubtedly the German stage, which had been slow to develop on professional lines, owed a great impetus to the invasions. Germans attached themselves to the English companies, and in course of time imitated the English methods in companies of their own. The English plays served as models for German dramatists, of whom Duke Henry Julius of Brunswick and Jacob Ayrer of Nuremberg were the best known.[979] On the other hand, the invaders themselves became denizened, at any rate to the extent of learning to give their performances in the German tongue. Moryson found Browne's company handicapped by their use of English at Frankfort in 1592. A Münster chronicler tells us that an anonymous company which visited his town in 1601 still played 'in ihrer engelschen Sprache', but that between the acts the clown amused the audience with 'bôtze und geckerie' in German.[980] In 1605 actors who petition for leave to appear at the Frankfort fair advertise their intention to give their comedies and tragedies 'in hochteutscher sprache', and there can be little doubt that, whatever may have been the case in Anglomaniac courts, theirs was the practice which ultimately prevailed in the cities.[981] Such portions of the repertories of the English actors as have been preserved are without exception in German. They are of singularly little literary value, fully bearing out Moryson's description of them as no more than 'peeces and patches' of English plays. But occasionally one of them possesses a critical interest as representing a play now lost or some earlier version of its model than that extant in an English text. In addition to actual plays, enough lists of performances are upon record to give a fair notion of the range of the travelling repertories. Both recent productions of the London stage and more old-fashioned pieces were drawn upon for adaptation. The choice was doubtless determined by the availability of prompter's copies or printed texts, as the case might be, when a company was collecting a stock-in-trade for its adventure. Sometimes variety was obtained by using the experiments of a German dramatist, or one of those scriptural comedies, Susanna and the Elders, The Prodigal Son, Dives and Lazarus, which had been the delight of the German, even more than the English, Renaissance.
The most obvious thing about the life of the English actor on the road in Germany is that it was uncommonly like his life on the road in England. Perhaps this is hardly surprising when it is borne in mind that, as already pointed out, the player away from his permanent theatre reverted to the status of the minstrel, and that throughout the ages the minstrel had been cosmopolitan. That in a land of alien speech, even more than at home, the strict arts of comedy and tragedy had to be eked out with music and buffoonery and acrobatics goes without saying. Even as late as 1614 and at the court of Berlin the terms on which actors were engaged bound them to render service 'mit Springen, Spielen und anderer Kurzweil', as their lord might require.[982] Away from court, in Germany as in England, they were mainly dependent upon the goodwill of the civic magistrates, to whom on approaching each town they addressed elaborate petitions, of which many are preserved, in which they recited their own merits, and made play with the names of any princes whose servants they were entitled to call themselves, or whose recommendation some successful display had enabled them to gain. There was always the chance that, on the strength of plague or some other pretext, they might be refused admission altogether. At the best, they must expect to have the length of their stay, the days and hours of their performances, the sums they might charge for standing-room and seats, most thoughtfully and minutely regulated for them. And when all the preliminaries were gone through, and the Rathaus or an inn-yard put at their disposal, and the creaking boards set up, and the tattered frippery extracted from the hamper, it might perhaps after all, as at Brunswick in 1614, be a case of 'kein Volk' and the Council might give them a thaler out of charity and send them on their way.[983] In Germany too, as in England, they had to make their account with the wise, to whom their performances were folly, and the 'unco' guid', to whom they were an offence.[984] Evidently they were not always discreet in their choice of themes. At Elbing in 1605 a company received a gratification of twenty thalers for a performance before the Council; and the record continues, '... daneben aber auch ihnen zu untersagen, dass sie nunmehr zu agiren aufhören sollen in Anmerkung, dass sie gestern in der Comödie schandbare Sachen fürgebracht'.[985] Even princes sometimes got into trouble by encouraging these foreigners of doubtful respectability. There was glee in Cassel when Landgrave Maurice decided to disband the 'verfluchten' English in 1602. Possibly in this case it was the taxpayer rather than the Puritan who felt relief; but when the Duke of Pommern-Wolgast and his mother allowed the Schlosskirche at Lötz to be used for a performance in 1606 they brought upon themselves a shower of letters from Hofprediger Gregorius Hagius, which precisely re-echo the familiar English diatribes of Stephen Gosson and John Rainolds.[986] Presumably the whole business paid its way, or Browne would not have gone over four or five times or Spencer spent fifteen years in the country. A recent investigator, who has made a far more elaborate analysis of all the financial material than I have room for, calculates that, what with court salaries, and what with admission fees to public performances at the rate of about three kreuzers or less than a penny a head, an actor might hope to make on the average about £60 a year.[987] This was enough to live upon, even if, as was sometimes the case, wife and children accompanied the expedition. It seemed attractive enough to poor Richard Jones, who was making at home 'some tymes a shillinge a day and some tymes nothinge'. But it hardly bears out the statement of Erhard Cellius that the English returned home 'auro et argento onusti'. And in fact those who essayed a career in Germany were the failures of London. 'Some of our cast dispised stage players', Moryson calls them, and many years later, in 1625, the same tale is told by the words put into the mouths of actors in The Run-away's Answer: 'We can be bankrupts on this side and gentlemen of a company beyond the sea: we burst at London, and are pieced up at Rotterdam.'[988] There were, indeed, those who made their fortunes abroad, but they were those who, like Thomas Sackville, forsook the stage and devoted their energies to an honest trade.
XI
THE ACTOR'S ECONOMICS
[Bibliographical Note.—The material for this chapter is mainly to be found in Book III (Companies) and Book IV (Theatres) and the works there cited. My account of Henslowe is practically all based on W. W. Greg, Henslowe's Diary (1904-8) and Henslowe Papers (1907). W. Rendle made a useful contribution in Philip Henslowe (Genealogist, n. s. iv). Since I completed this chapter, useful studies in theatrical finance have been contributed by A. Thaler, Shakespeare's Income (1918, S. P. xv. 82), Playwright's Benefits and Interior Gathering in the Elizabethan Theatre (1919, S. P. xvi. 187), The Elizabethan Dramatic Companies (1920, M. L. R. xxxv. 123).]
WITHAL the actors, or the more discreet of them, prospered. This fact peeps out from the diatribes of their critics, and is indeed part of the case against them. The theatres are thronged, while the churches are empty. The drones suck the honey stored up by London's laborious citizens. Already, in 1578, John Stockwood estimates the aggregate gain of eight play-houses, open but once in the week, at £2,000 by the year. The players began to ruffle it, in garments fit only for their betters. 'The very hyrelings', says Gosson in 1579, 'which stand at reuersion of viˢ by the weeke, iet under gentlemen's noses in sutes of silke, exercising themselues too prating on the stage, and common scoffing when they come abrode, where they looke askance ouer the shoulder at euery man, of whom the Sunday before they begged an almes'; and in like vein Walsingham's correspondent of 1587 bewails to him the 'wofull sight to see two hundred proude players jett in their silkes, wheare five hundred pore people sterve in the streets'. It is, however, possible to lay undue stress upon the public finery as an evidence of prosperity, for this was apt to be borrowed from the tiring-house wardrobe, and in time it was found that the advertisement earned hardly justified the detriment to the common stock of apparel. The articles signed by those joining the Lady Elizabeth's men about 1614 bound them amongst other things not to go out of the theatre with any of the apparel on their bodies. The surest economic sign of a growing industry is the capacity to spend money on building, and it was a true instinct that led Stockwood to discommend the gorgeous playing-places erected at 'great charges' in the fields, and William Harrison to note it as 'an evident token of a wicked time when plaiers wexe so riche that they can build suche houses'. And when Robert Greene wanted to paint a picture of a typical successful actor in 1592, he made him describe himself as one who had once travelled on foot and carried his properties on his back, but now his very share in playing apparel would not be sold for £200, and he was reputed by his neighbours able 'at his proper cost to build a windmill'.[989] James Burbadge was 'the first builder of playhowses', and thereby laid the foundations of the prosperity of his family. He had been a joiner, before he became a player, and perhaps this suggested the enterprise of the Theatre, which he put up in 1576 upon borrowed capital. When his son Richard died in 1619 he was reckoned worth £300 a year in land. Even more fortunate was Edward Alleyn, who was in a position to retire from the stage before he was forty, to purchase the manor of Dulwich for £10,000, to build the College of God's Gift, and thereafter to spend upon the maintenance of his household and his foundation at the rate of some £1,700 a year. Other actors, mainly of the King's company, can be shown to have made their more modest piles. Thomas Pope, Augustine Phillips, Henry Condell, all appear from their wills to have been substantial men when they died. John Heminge is described in 1614 as 'of greate lyveinge wealth and power'. The Restoration story that Shakespeare spent £1,000 a year at Stratford is probably apocryphal, in view of the fact that his known investments only amount to a little over £1,000; but at least he returned as a moneyed man to the scene of his father's bankruptcy, and enjoyed consideration as the owner of the best house in his native town. Aubrey's statement that he left property worth about £200 or £300 a year, which gives him a fortune about equal to Richard Burbadge's, seems not unreasonable.[990] Like true Englishmen, the successful players sought after less material proof of their worth than was afforded by their lands and houses. Alleyn, having long been lord of a manor, and having connected himself by marriage with the Dean of St. Paul's, was desirous in 1624 of 'sum further dignetie', probably a knighthood. Others were content with acquiring or assuming a claim to armorial bearings, which would entitle them to rank as 'gentlemen'. Shakespeare in 1596 obtained a confirmation of a grant of arms made to his father as bailiff of Stratford nearly thirty years before; and in 1599 sought additional authority to impale the coat of his mother's family, the Ardens.[991] Heminges obtained a confirmation of arms in 1629. Such grants did not go altogether unstrictured by heraldic purists, and the cases of Shakespeare and of his fellow Richard Cowley formed part of the material for a charge of making grants to 'base and ignoble persons' brought by a rival against the responsible king-of-arms. Augustine Phillips and Thomas Pope did not trouble the heralds, but went to an heraldic painter, and bought, the one the arms of Sir William Phillips, Lord Bardolph, and the other those of Sir Thomas Pope, Chancellor of the Augmentations.[992] These ambitions of the players, no less than their investments, yielded stuff both for moralizing and for satire. Henry Crosse, in his Vertues Common-wealth (1603), rebukes the pride of the 'copper-lace gentlemen' who 'purchase lands by adulterous playes'.[993] And in the tract of Ratseis Ghost (1605), already cited, Gamaliel Ratsey speaks of those 'whom Fortune hath so well favored that, what by penny-sparing and long practise of playing, are growne so wealthy that they have expected to be knighted, or at least to be conjunct in authority and to sit with men of great worship on the bench of justice'; and he advises the country player, with whom he has fallen in, to get him to London, 'and when thou feelest thy purse well lined, buy thee some place or lordship in the country, that, growing weary of playing, thy mony may there bring thee to dignitie and reputation'. The player too heard 'of some that have gone to London very meanly, and have come in time to be exceeding wealthy'. Ratsey then knights him 'Sir Simon Two Shares and a Halfe', and tells him he is 'the first knight that ever was player in England'.[994]
Certainly all players did not grow rich, even in London. Some of them to the end, perhaps the majority, remained threadbare companions enough; in and out of debt, spongers upon their fellows, frequenters of pawnshops, acquainted with prison. Partly it was a matter of character. Those who had to do with the stage were not all such riff-raff as a hasty reading of the Puritan literature might suggest. Gosson, indeed, admits as much, allowing that some among those professing 'the qualitie' are 'sober, discreete, properly learned honest housholders and citizens well thought on amonge their neighbours at home'; while on his side Thomas Heywood is quick to maintain the harm wrought by the licentious to a calling in which many are 'of substance, of government, of sober lives and temperate carriages, house-keepers and contributory to all duties enjoyned them', and to plead that if there be a few of degenerate demeanour, his readers will not 'censure hardly of all for the misdeeds of some'.[995] Doubtless there is a certain instability of temperament, which the life of the theatre, with its ups and downs of fortune, its unreal sentiments and its artificially stimulated emotions, is well calculated to encourage; and we may perhaps find the victims of such a temperament in certain actors who, although clearly of standing in their profession, seem to have been constantly shifting from company to company, without attaining any secure position or, as one may conjecture, reaping any substantial harvest from their labour and their skill. One of these was Richard Jones, originally a fellow of Alleyn with Lord Worcester's men, presently selling to Alleyn his share of clothes and books, at one time reduced to 1s. a day or nothing, at another setting out to tour the Continent with Robert Browne, then back again with Alleyn amongst the Admiral's men, then transferring himself to the Swan and returning a few months later to the Rose, and finally allowing himself to be bought out for £50 and passing into obscurity. Another was Martin Slater, also at one time one of the Admiral's men, whom he left and went to law with, then a wanderer with Laurence Fletcher in Scotland, and afterwards successively traceable with Lord Hertford's men, with Queen Anne's, as a member of the King's Revels syndicate, and with Queen Anne's again as manager of one of the provincial companies travelling under the Queen's warrant. Perhaps it is merely another way of stating the same issue to say that the financial success of a player depended on his obtaining an interest, not merely in the day-to-day profits of a company, but also in the permanent investment represented by a theatre. This becomes readily apparent upon an analysis of the business methods employed in the organization of the dramatic industry. The basis of this organization was the banding together of players into associations or partnerships, the members of which acted together, held a common stock of garments and play-books, incurred joint expenditure, and daily or at other convenient periods divided up the profits of their enterprise. In a legal document an associate of such a company is described as 'a full adventurer, storer and sharer among them';[996] the term in ordinary use was 'sharer'. No doubt the sharing arrangement was in origin traditional; it is described in 1614 as 'accordinge to the custome of players'.[997] But it became convenient to formulate it in a legal agreement or 'composition', which provided for the co-operation of the sharers and defined their relations to each other. Thus the composition of the Duke of York's men in 1610 bound them to play together for three years, and deprived a member who left without the consent of his fellows of any interest in the common stock. Under that of Queen Anne's men about 1612 a retiring sharer was entitled to a payment at the rate of £80 for a full share. Such provisions, which were intended to obviate the breaking up of a stock, and of themselves indicate a substantial investment of capital, seem to have been usual. Alleyn had £50 on leaving the Admiral's men in 1597, Jones and Shaw £50 in 1602; under the composition of the same company, then the Prince's men, in 1613, a sharer retiring with consent was entitled to £70. Both the Queen's and the Prince's men made a similar allowance to the widow of a sharer. Each of the sharers signed a bond for the observance of the composition, which also covered certain disciplinary regulations imposed by the company on its members. Thus the articles signed by Robert Dawes, on joining the Lady Elizabeth's men in 1614, not only made him a partaker in the contractual and financial liabilities of the company, but also exposed him to penalties if he missed plays or rehearsals, or came late or in a state of intoxication, or took apparel or other common property away from the theatre. As the compositions grew more detailed and the enterprises more important, it proved convenient that one of the sharers should be appointed, formally or informally, to act as trustee and manager for the rest, to receive and make payments, to hold the composition, bonds, licences, and other legal papers, and generally to look after the business interests of his fellows. Thus it is pleaded in a lawsuit concerning Queen Anne's men that Thomas Greene was 'one of the principall and cheif persons of the said companie', and did 'laie out or disburse' moneys on their behalf; and that, after his death in 1612, the company 'did put the managing of thier whole businesses and affaires belonging vnto them ioyntly as they were players in trust' unto Christopher Beeston, by whom they were 'altogether ruled'. John Heminge seems to have acted in a similar capacity for the King's men, and to have had the custody of their deeds. He regularly appears as their payee at Court, and it is probable that he gave up acting in order to devote himself to business management. The members of a company did not invariably share and share alike. It is possible that in some cases the manager or a leading actor had a preponderant interest.[998] Tucca, in The Poetaster, at the end of his interview with Histrio, bids him commend him to 'Seven Shares and a Half'. So, too, Gamaliel Ratsey knights his player as 'Sir Simon Two Shares and a Halfe'. Perhaps this is only the chaff of the satirists. In any case one hopes that there is no foundation for the further suggestion of Tucca, when he offers to take the players into his service, and 'ha' two shares for my countenance'.[999] We know what Ratsey's corresponding threat to 'share with thee againe for playing under my warrant' means, for Ratsey was a highwayman, and levied his share not by 'composition', but at the end of a pistol. An actual example of a privileged share is that held by Alleyn in the Admiral's company about 1600, which seems to have been free of any liability to contribute towards the upkeep of the stock or other current expenses.[1000] The shares were often subdivided, so that some members of the company were full sharers, others half sharers or three-quarter sharers.[1001] The number of shares varied; an ordinary London company may be taken to have consisted of about ten or twelve sharers.[1002] For travelling purposes it is probable that separate compositions were entered into, except perhaps for short summer tours, and that the numbers were smaller.[1003] It should be made clear that the companies of players, although based upon the bodies of royal or noble servants constituted under patents or other warrants of appointment, were not precisely identical with these. Each company had to get the authority of such a warrant, before it was licensed to act at all, but the legal bond of association between its members was not the warrant, but the composition. As a rule the terms of the patents give or imply a power to those named in them to associate themselves with others. New members could doubtless be sworn into the service of the lord without any need for a fresh patent. But it cannot be held that every fellow sharer was necessarily a servant of the same lord, and still less that every servant named in a warrant was necessarily a sharer of any particular company acting under that warrant. Thus there is no proof that Laurence Fletcher, who is named first amongst the King's servants of 1603, ever acted with the King's men. Similarly Martin Slater and certain other Queen's servants and Gilbert Reason, a Prince's servant, did not, during long periods, act with the corresponding London companies, but toured the provinces with companies of their own, taking out for this purpose duplicates or exemplifications of the patents, a practice which came to be regarded by the authorities as an abuse.[1004] On the other hand, the servants of two lords sometimes played as a single company.[1005] Thus Lord Oxford's men and Lord Worcester's were 'ioyned by agrement togeather in on companie' at the Boar's Head during 1602. Similarly Lord Hunsdon's men and Lord Howard's came as a single company to Court in 1586; the Queen's men and Lord Sussex's were 'togeather' at the Rose in 1594, while Rosseter's patent for the Porter's Hall theatre in 1615 contemplates its use by no less than three companies, the Lady Elizabeth's, the Prince's, and the Queen's Revels, probably as a united body. Or the servant of one lord might attach himself as an individual to the company passing under the name of another. Thus Alleyn was still an Admiral's man when he toured with Lord Strange's men in 1593, possibly as the last representative of a more complete combination between two companies. Similarly Robert Pallant remained a Queen's man while playing successively with the Lady Elizabeth's and the Duke of York's in 1614-16, and William Rowley appeared in the Prince's livery at King James's funeral in 1625, although he had probably joined the King's men some two years before.[1006]