In Blackfriars was a theatre, the memory of which with the one or the other shore of the river at Bankside, enjoys the honour of having been used for the first representations of many of Shakspeare's plays, and where the bard himself performed in them. The whole district becomes classic, from the remembrance. The following interesting description of the theatres in London at that time, and which applies to the Blackfriars' theatre as we well as the rest, is taken from a short memoir of Shakspeare, by the Rev. Alexader Dyce, prefixed to the Aldine edition of Shakspeare's poems: "Nearly all these buildings, it is probable, were constructed of wood. Those which, for some undiscovered reason, were termed private theatres, were entirely roofed in from the weather, while the public theatres were open to the sky, except over the stage and galleries. On the outside of each was exhibited a sign indicative of its name; and on the roof, during the time of performance, was hoisted a flag. The interior arrangements resemble those of the present day. There were tiers of galleries or scaffolds; beneath these the boxes or rooms, intended for persons of the higher class, and which at the private theatres were secured with locks, the keys being given to the individuals who engaged them; and there was the centre area, (separated, it seems, from the stage by pales), at the private theatres, termed the pit, and furnished with seats; but at the public theatres, called the yard, and affording no such accommodation. Cressets, or large open lanterns, served to illuminate the body of the house; and two ample branches, of a form similar to those now hung in churches, gave light to the stage. The band of musicians, which was far from numerous, sat, it is supposed, in an upper balcony, over what is now called the stage box: the instruments chiefly used were trumpets, cornets, hautboys, lutes, recorders, viols, and organs. The amusements of the audience previous to the commencement of the play, were reading, playing at cards, smoking tobacco, drinking ale, and eating nuts and apples. Even during the performance it was customary for wits, critics, and young gallants, who were desirous of attracting attention, to station themselves on the stage, either lying on the rushes or seated on hired stools, while their pages furnished them with pipes and tobacco. At the third sounding, or flourish of trumpets, the exhibition began. The curtain, which concealed the stage from the audience, was then drawn, opening in the middle, and running upon iron rods. Other curtains, called traverses, were used as a substitute for scenes. At the back of the stage was a balcony, the platform of which was raised about eight or nine feet from the ground; it served as a window, gallery, or upper chamber. From it a portion of the dialogue was sometimes spoken, and in front of it curtains were suspended to conceal, if necessary, those who occupied it, from the audience. The internal roof of the stage, either painted blue or adorned with drapery of that colour, was termed the heavens. The stage was generally strewed with rushes, but on extraordinary occasions was matted. There is reason to believe that, when tragedies were performed, it was hung with black. Moveable painted scenery there was assuredly none. A board, containing the name of the place of action in large letters, was displayed in some conspicuous situation. Occasionally, when some change of scene was necessary, the audience was required to suppose that the performers, who had not quitted the boards, had retired to a different spot. A bed thrust forth showed that the stage was a bed-chamber; and a table, with pen and ink, indicated that it was a counting-house. Rude contrivances were employed to imitate towers, walls of towns, hell-mouths, tombs, trees, dragons, &c. Trap-doors had been early in use; but to make a celestial personage ascend to the roof of the stage was more than the machinists of the theatre could always accomplish. The price of admission appears to have varied according to the rank and estimation of the theatres. A shilling was charged for a place in the best boxes; the entrance-money to the pit and galleries was the same—sixpence, twopence, and a penny. The performance commenced at three in the afternoon."
OLD CUSTOM RELATING TO CRIMINALS.
The custom of offering doomed criminals a last earthly draught of refreshment is undoubtedly one of considerable antiquity. The right of offering wine to criminals, on their passage to the scaffold, was often a privilege granted to religious communities. In Paris, the privilege was held by the convent of Filles-Dieu, the nuns of which kept wine prepared for those who were condemned to suffer on the gibbet of Montfaucon. The gloomy procession halted before the gate of the monastery, the criminal descended from the cart, and the nuns, headed by the Lady Abbess, received him on the steps with as much, perhaps more, heartfelt ceremony than if he had been a king. The poor wretch was led to a crucifix near the church door, the feet whereof he humbly kissed. He then received, from the hands of the Superior, three pieces of bread (to remind him of the Trinity), and one glass of wine (emblem of Unity). The procession then resumed its dread way to the scaffold.
ALE TOO STRONG.
A memorial signed by nineteen inhabitants of Bayton, in Worcestershire, was sent to the Sessions in the year 1612, setting forth "that John Kempster and John Byrd do not sell their ale according to the law, but doe sell a pynte for a penny, and doe make ytt soe extraordynarye strong that itt draweth dyvers ydle p'sons into the said alehouses, by reason whereof sondrye assaults, affrayes, blodshedds, and other misdeameanors, are there daylie comytted by idle and dronken companie which doe thither resort and there contineue in their dronckenes three days and three nights together, and also divers men's sonnes and servants do often resort and contineue drinking in the said houses day and night, whereupon divers disorders and abuses are offered to the inhabitants of Bayton aforesaid, as in pulling down styles, in carrying away of yertes, in throwing men's waynes, plowes, and such like things, into pooles, wells, and other bye places, and in putting their yokes for their oxen into lakes and myery places, &c." A nice picture of young England in the seventeenth century.
A CHAPTER-HOUSE IN THE TIME OF HENRY VII.
In abbey-churches of the olden time the Chapter-house was always on the east side of the court. In establishments of secular canons it seems to have been always multisided, with a central pillar to support its groining, and a lofty, conical, lead-covered roof. In these instances it is placed in the open space eastward of the cloister, and is usually approached by a passage from the east side of the cloister court. In the houses of all the other orders the chapter-house is rectangular, even where the church is a cathedral. Usually, then, the chapter-house is a rectangular building on the east side of the cloister, and frequently its longest apsis is east and west—at Durham it has an eastern apsis. It was a large and handsome room, with a good deal of architectural ornament; often the western end of it is divided off as a vestibule or ante-room; and generally it is so large as to be divided into two or three aisles by rows of pillars. Internally, rows of stalls or benches were arranged round the walls for the convent; there was a higher seat at the east end for the abbot or prior, and a desk in the middle from which certain things were read. Every day after the service called Tierce, the convent walked in procession from the choir to the chapter-house, and took their proper places. When the abbot had taken his place, the monks descended one step and bowed; he returned their salutation, and all took their seats. A sentence of the rule of the order was read by one of the novices from the desk, and the abbot, or in his absence, the prior, delivered an explanatory or hortatory sermon upon it; then, from another portion of the book was read the names of brethren, and benefactors, and persons who had been received into fraternity, whose decease had happened on that day of the year; and the convent prayed a requiescat in pace for their souls, and the souls of all the faithful departed this life. Then members of the convent who had been guilty of slight breaches of discipline confessed them, kneeling upon a low stool in the middle, and on a bow from the abbot, intimating his remission of the breach, they resumed their seats. If any had a complaint to make against any brother, it was here made and adjudged. Convent business was also transacted. The woodcut gives an example of the kind. Henry VII. had made grants to Westminster Abbey, on condition that the convent performed certain religious services on his behalf; and in order that the services should not fall into disuse, he directed that yearly, at a certain period, the chief justice, or the king's attorney, or the recorder of London, should attend in chapter, and the abstract of the grant and agreement between the king and the convent should be read. The grant which was thus to be read still exists in the British Museum; it is written in a volume superbly bound, with the royal seals attached in silver cases; it is from the illuminated letter at the head of one of the deeds that our woodcut is taken. It rudely represents the chapter-house, with the chief-justice and a group of lawyers on one side, the abbot and convent on the other, and a monk reading the grant from the desk in the midst.
ANNE BOLEYN's GLOVES.