James Shapiro, 1599: A Year in
the Life of William Shakespeare (2005) Chapter 6 The Globe Rises From Shakespeare's new lodgings near the Clink prison in the parish of St. Saviour's in Southwark, it was just a few minutes' stroll to the construction site of the
Globe. It's likely that through late winter and early spring he kept a close
eye on progress there. Whether it was the relief of working in a playhouse free of the
ghosts of the past or the sense of potential that the new theater offered, the
Globe clearly had a lot to do with the great surge of energy and creativity
at this moment in Shakespeare's career. His
surroundings could only have contributed to this vitality. Located outside the
jurisdiction of the London authorities, the Bankside had a reputation
for freewheeling independence. It was notorious for its criminality, prostitution, inns, theaters, 107 and blood sports- both bull and bearbaiting.
Puritan preachers called it a "licensed stew." Some of this
local color began finding its way into Shakespeare's plays. Everyone in the audience at Troilus
and Cressida knew what Shakespeare meant when he mentions "some galled goose of
Winchester" (5.10.54): a syphilitic Bankside prostitute. And Antonio's advice to Sebastian in Twelfth Night that it's "best to lodge" in
"the south suburbs, at the Elephant" (3.3.39)-a local brothel converted to an
inn-would also have produced a knowing smile. In his new neighborhood, Shakespeare would have found himself rubbing elbows with watermen (who made up a quarter of all workers in St. Saviour's) rather than with the
merchants and musicians of St. Helen's in upscale Bishopsgate. Southwark was a community in transition. Its population was swelling, tenements were going up all around, and the streets lining the Thames and leading from London Bridge were crammed. But a hundred yards from the
Thames, Southwark took on a more bucolic appearance, and to the south and west were fields,
farms, ponds, and scattered marshland. Because of his proximity to the Globe site and because decisions
about stage design constrained the kinds of scenes he could write,
Shakespeare was probably consulted at various points
during the theater's construction. Though its external dimensions were necessarily identical to the Theatre's, much else about it-the direction that its stage faced in
relation to the afternoon sun, trapdoors, the balcony, special machinery for
descents, the backstage, and stage doors for entrances and exits- could be customized to suit the actors' and their
resident playwright's needs. The only document to survive about the property during the spring of 1599 (dated May 16 and in Latin), speaks of a newly built house with a
garden "in the occupation of William
Shakespeare and others." Whether this house refers to the Globe, still under construction, or more likely
to another dwelling on the two-parcel site, remains unclear; but this slender piece of evidence suggests that Shakespeare played a visible role in
the new venture. By spring, with the arrival of longer thaws, it was obvious that the soggy property off Maiden Lane that had been leased so hurriedly back
in December was far from ideal for a playhouse. No wonder then that, a 108 year later, the lord admiral would justify relocating his playing
company from the adjacent Rose to the northern suburbs on the grounds that
the site of the Rose was "very noisome"-that is, unpleasant,
even noxious" for resort of people in the winter
time." As Ben Jonson later observed, the low-lying Bankside land on which the Globe also sat better suited
the defensive terrain of a "fort." The
Globe, Jonson adds, was "flanked with a ditch and forced out of a marsh."
Fortunately for the Chamberlain's Men, Elizabethan playgoers don't seem to have been particularly fussy
about muck and smells. Had Shakespeare visited the construction site in late spring, he would have stepped over the newly dug foundation trenches and found himself within a large-scale version of the shape Prospero would
later draw onstage in The Tempest,
where the stage direction reads: "All enter the circle which Prospero had made, and there stand charmed" (SD 5.1.57). The master carpenter Peter Street had carefully measured the exact dimensions of the Theatre's foundations after the timber
structure had been dismantled. Once the location and
center point of the Globe had been decided upon, Street took his surveyor's line and, probably
sprinkling lime to indicate where the exterior wall would stand, marked off a ring with a diameter of seventy-two feet.
The charmed circle stopped there. It was agreed upon that, unlike the
Rose, the stage at the Globe would be entirely in afternoon shadow.
Playgoers rather than the actors would have the sun in their eyes; they'd have to squint at times, but they'd feel warmer. The Chamberlain's Men probably hoped to be able to move to the Globe by June, since Peter Street wouldn't have to build the frame
from scratch. They were still paying rent at the
Curtain through late April (Simon Forman writes of going to the Curtain three times that month). Because its foundations could not have been dug much before April, it was increasingly clear that the Globe
couldn't open before late July. The reason for the delay was an extended cold
spell. March, April, and May had been dry-which ordinarily would have accelerated the construction schedule-but,John Stow records, they had
also been unseasonably cold, mocking the almanac's forecast of the arrival of "goodly
pleasant weather" by the first new moon in
April. 109 Raising the Globe's frame could take place only after the foundation work was completed. The late cold spell
brought frost, and frost was the bane of laborers who had to break through the foot or so of frozen
ground to excavate the foundation and prevent frost heave before sinking elm piles and filling the shallow trenches with limestone and pebbles for drainage. It was also the enemy of the
bricklayers who then took over, constructing out of bricks and mortar the foundation plinth, a short, squat wall rising a foot above the ground level of each of the two
roughly concentric rings of the multisided
structure. The plinth was needed to keep the groundsills or bottom-most layer of
timber from rotting. Because frost compromised the bond holding bricks and mortar together, it would have been foolhardy-and unsound Tudor building practice-to begin laying the brick foundation until the risk of freezing weather
was safely past. Twenty-first-century builders
faced with such conditions might pour antifreeze into the mix to prevent the bond holding the bricks together from disintegrating.
Elizabethan builders simply had to wait for warmer temperatures if they wanted to ensure, in the words
of a contemporary theater contract, that there be a "good sure and
strong foundation of piles, brick, lime, and sand." Londoners learned firsthand of the dangers of shoddy construction in overcrowded playing spaces in August 1599.
Thirty to forty people were injured and five killed-including, John Chamberlain reports,
"two ... good handsome whores"- when a crammed house on St. John Street
in London's northwest suburbs collapsed while a "puppet play"
was being performed. There had been an earlier
disaster in 1583 at the Paris Garden bearbaiting ring in Southwark, when too
many spectators packed the amphitheater: the gallery that "compassed the yard round about
was so shaken at the foundation that it fell as it were in a moment flat to
the ground." Eight people were crushed to
death and many others injured. As far as those involved in raising the Globe were concerned, it was
better to wait until the risk of frost was past, and the foundations of
their future playhouse and prosperity could be secure. William Shepherd, who was probably brought in by Street to lay the foundations of the Globe, couldn't have waited too long to finish
the work. While the weather so far had remained
unseasonably dry, spring 110 would bring rains and flooding-as it did in late May, when, John Stow reports, on Whitsunday, London was inundated with "great rain,
and high waters, the like of long time had not
been seen." When the Thames overflowed its banks, it ran downhill
toward the building site. Even thirty years later, when the Globe site was drained by ditches along its northern and southern boundaries, the land was still
subject to flooding at spring tides. The window
between frost and flood in which the Globe foundations could be built that spring was a narrow one. SHAKESPEARE AND HIS FELLOW SHARERS FACED OTHER PROBLEMS THIS spring, including the ongoing legal battle with Giles Allen over the
dismantling of the Theatre. One can only imagine how
furious Allen must have been when he returned to where the Theatre had stood and found
it gone, the grass trampled, his field littered with mounds of plaster
and shattered tile. The first legal action had
taken place at Westminster on January 20, when Allen, pursuing his case with "rigor and
extremity," sued Peter Street in the King's Bench for
trespassing and damages. Street didn't need this kind of trouble, and it would have fallen to the Burbages and their partners to pay for the builder's
defense. And so began what both sides understood was a complicated
game. Allen may have guessed that the Burbages would counter with a
lawsuit in the Court of Requests, even as they may have anticipated that Allen would then respond with another lawsuit at the King's Bench. Both
sides knew that if all else failed, Allen could always cry foul and take things to the Star Chamber
(which in fact he would). The last thing that the
Chamberlain's Men needed was for Allen to delay or halt Street's
progress. And even if they were to triumph sooner or later, legal costs were mounting. The growing number of rival playing companies was another worry. The Admiral's Men continued to play at the Rose. And there was no guarantee that the Swan would remain offlimits
to a permanent playing company. It wouldn't be easy selling out the
Globe with three active theaters (plus bearbaiting) on the Bankside. Meanwhile,
the owners of the Boar's Head Inn, just outside London's western boundary, had invested heavily in transforming their playing space into a full-scale
theatrical 111 venue by summer. And as soon as the
Chamberlain's Men vacated the Curtain, some hungry itinerant company was sure to move in. More troubling still was word that after a decade's hiatus, the boys of St. Paul's would shortly resume playing for public audiences at
the cathedral. And ifhe
had not done so already, Henry Evans would soon approach the Burbage brothers to see if he could rent their indoors Blackfriars Theatre for another boys'
company. It had sat unused since adult playing had been banned there in 1596.
Within a year the deal was done: the benefits of the steady rent for the heavily indebted Burbages outweighed the risk of losing customers to
this second children's company. Shakespeare's subsequent complaint-in lines later added to Hamlet, that "children ... are now the fashion" and that
boy players so "carry it away" that they threaten the Globe,
"Hercules and his load too"-suggests that Shakespeare himself was considerably less
enthusiastic about this arrangement (2.2.341-62). As
theaters popped up like mushrooms, new entrepreneurs tried to cash in on what must have been seen as a lucrative business.
Shakespeare may have heard around this time that the printer John Wolfe had plans-as Middlesex court records for the following April indicate-"to erect and build a
playhouse in Nightingale Lane near East Smithfield," not far from the
Tower of London. In the face of all this unexpected competition, Shakespeare and his fellow investors must have wondered what had happened to the Privy Council's year-old decree that only they and the Admiral's Men would
be allowed to perform in London. Like the
council's earlier threat to tear down London's theaters, it looked to be more honored in the breach
than the observance. The decision to invest in
the Globe must have depended, in some measure, on this promise of a duopoly, and, as a result, the
explosion in the number of competing playhouses must have been especially demoralizing. There simply weren't enough
spectators to go around. And now competition for new plays to supplement Shakespeare's
offerings would be even stiffer. Expansion also meant
the potential dilution of quality in the fare offered. Innovation-from
all-boy companies to aristocrats dabbling at playwriting-was a dangerous thing for a veteran,
protected company like the Chamberlain's Men. The
sooner the Globe was 112 up, the sooner Shakespeare could offer plays there that set a new
standard and attracted a regular, charmed clientele. There was greater pressure than ever, then, to distinguish the Chamberlain's Men from their rivals. No other company could match their experience-so it's not surprising that Shakespeare committed
himself to writing plays that showcased his
company's depth. Julius Caesar is exemplary in this regard, requiring strong performances by four adult actors playing the parts of Brutus, Caesar,
Cassius, and Antony. Throughout 1599, Shakespeare also seems to have gone out of his way
to showcase a pair of leading boy actors in his company (whose names are unfortunately unknown). One of them seems to
have specialized in playing romantic leads, the other both younger and
older women. Consider the extraordinary pairs of roles Shakespeare wrote for them in a
little over a year, beginning with Beatrice and Hero in Much Ado and Katharine of France and Alice in Henry
the Fifth. In Julius Caesar
Shakespeare created for them another pair of sterling
roles, Portia and Calpurnia. Most audiences remember Portia's famous lines about showing proof of her constancy to Brutus, when she reveals how she gave herself
"a voluntary wound / Here, in the thigh"
(2.1.301-2). But it is her first and longer speech that reveals how much confidence Shakespeare must have had in one young actor in particular, and how this speech, whose
difficult rhythms, wit, gestures, and shifts in tone, captures both Portia's
character and the story of her marriage: You've ungently, Brutus, Stole from my
bed. And yesternight, at supper, You suddenly
arose, and walked about, Musing and
Sighing, with your arms across, And when I
asked you what the matter was, You stared upon
me with ungentle looks. I urged you
further; then you scratched your head And too
impatiently stamped with your foot. Yet I insisted,
yet you answered not, But with an
angry wafture of your hand Gave sign for
me to leave you. So I did, 113 Fearing to
strengthen that impatience Which seemed
too much enkindled, and withal Hoping it was
but an effect of humor, Which sometime hath his hour with every man. It will not let
you eat, nor talk, nor sleep, And could it
work so much upon your shape As it hath much
prevailed on your condition, I should not
know you, Brutus. Dear my lord, Make me
acquainted with your cause of grief (2.1.238-57) Shakespeare may have realized, watching the pair of boys handle such challenging roles, that they were capable of handling even more
taxing ones, for he would next reward them with the extraordinary parts ofRosalind and Celia in As You Like It
followed by those of Ophelia and Gertrude in Hamlet. By early May the Globe was finally rising. Once the foundation work was finished, Street's carpenters and sawyers took over the
construction site for ten weeks or so. Shakespeare and
his fellow investors had to reach deeper into their pockets, for these expensive laborers had to be
paid weekly and fresh supplies were constantly
required. Even as unused sand, bricks, and lime were hauled away, horse-drawn carts maneuvered down Maiden Lane or along paths leading down from docks along the nearby Thames, loaded with seasoned lumber for the rafters, joists, rakes, and floorboards as well as with fir
poles for scaffolding. Sawyers would have already picked a convenient spot to set up a sawpit to cut these pieces to the carpenters'
specifications. And if any of the main oak pieces of the Theatre frame had been damaged when being dismantled and moved, now was the time for teams of sawyers to cut their
replacements and finish them off with side ax and adze. What followed would be by far the most challenging stage of
construction. The pressure now was on the master carpenter, Peter Street, who, in determining how the parts of the reassembled frame would fit
together, somehow had to keep in mind the relationship of the floor sills (which rested on the foundations) to the wall plates (the topmost
part of 114 the frame on which the roofing sat) thirty
feet above. Measurements were especially tricky because no two pieces of hand-cut timber were alike, and yet each one had to dovetail perfectly with all those
connected to it. Each one of the towering back posts,
for example, was fitted to twenty-six other timbers on three of its
four sides. Getting the sequence right-and all the workers in place to execute it-required the skill
of a chess master who could play out in his mind
dozens of moves ahead. It helped that Street had been responsible for dismantling the
Theatre. And it's likely that the dozen or so carpenters who had worked under his direction at that time were now
employed at the Globe. Street may also have brought down from Windsor the same crew of carpenters that he employed a year later at this stage
at the Fortune. "Erecting," as this stage of construction was called in the trade, was not to be
left to inexperienced hands. Even illiterate carpenters could
easily identify the familiar set oflong and ornate slashes that were
gouged in the wood, still to be found on Tudor frame buildings (and even on timber frame buildings raised in North America by their descendants), marks that all of them had learned early on in their apprenticeship indicating where
sections were to be joined. Sections of the extremely heavy preassembled outer wall frames were hoisted into place first, and then, as they were held in place, cross
frames and curved braces added for stability. Once
the inner wall frames and floor frames were slotted into position, joined just as they had been
at the Theatre, the carpenters were able to move the scaffolding and repeat
the procedure at each of the twenty or so bays.
If the timber had arrived in good enough condition, and not too many new pieces had to be hewn from scratch in the sawpits, this stage of construction would have
gone very quickly. The rising skeletal frame of
the Globe was a new addition to the silhouette of the Bankside and let Londoners know that playing there would begin in the summer. Henslowe,
who had to pass the Globe every day on his walk to the aging Rose, knew that his theater's days were numbered. Time lost to frost would also have to be made up in the next and most laborious stage of construction:
"setting up." New joists, floorboards, rafters, partitions, and seating all had to
be measured, cut, and fitted. The 115 staircases, the tiring house, and the five-foot-high stage itself had
to be knocked together as well. Fresh loads of
seasoned lumber continually arrived as Street pressed his regular suppliers. The
torrential rains and flooding at the end of May were a setback, but the work must have
gone on after that at a torrid pace. The Globe was the first London theater built by actors for actors,
and Shakespeare and his fellow player-sharers would have worked with Street closely during the setting up, especially on last-minute
decisions about the tiring house and stage. Heminges was probably responsible for handling the finances, while the Burbage brothers, who had watched their father, a joiner by profession, supervise the building of the
Theatre (and more recently the indoor stage at Blackfriars),
no doubt drew on their experience to ensure that Street built exactly the kind of
stage they and their fellow investors wanted. They
brought a good deal of practical experience to the task-and they knew the strengths and weaknesses of each of London's playhouses, having performed
in all of them. Only a playwright who knew something about construction problems and cost overruns could have recently written: When we mean to
build, We first survey
the plot, then draw the model; And when we see
the figure of the house, Then must we
rate the cost of the erection, Which if we
find outweighs ability, What do we then
but draw anew the model In fewer
offices, or at least desist To build at
all? (The Second Part of Henry the Fourth 1.3-41-48) Once the setting up was completed, new teams of skilled workers began to appear on the site: glaziers (for the tiring house windows), plumbers (for a lead gutter), smiths (for doors and windows), thatchers and plasterers (for the roof and exterior),
and painters (for interior details). Specialists also had to be brought in to handle the marbling of the pair of wooden columns onstage, a skill that
took years to master. The ex- 116 terior had to be plastered with
"lathe, lime and hair"-completely covering the timber frame, so that from a distance the building looked like it was made of stone, perhaps calling to mind a Roman theater-a fitting touch for a play about Julius Caesar. And,
as unhappy as the idea might seem to us, the Chamberlain's Men may also have asked Street to fence the lower gallery (as he would at the Fortune) with "strong iron
pikes" in order to prevent those who only paid to stand from slipping over the
railing into the more expensive seating in the
galleries. As Street's workmen struggled to make up for lost time, London's fickle weather finally
cooperated: June and July were for the most part hot and dry-perfect for painting and plastering. If the
Chamberlain's Men's luck held, it now looked like playing could begin, even if all the detail work wasn't
completed, sometime in late July. As it happens, when
Street contracted with Henslowe the following January to build the Fortune, he promised to
finish the job by July 25; there's a strong chance that they agreed on this
date based on Street's recent experience at the
Globe. Shakespeare, eager to have a new play in hand to inaugurate the theater, had probably begun writing Julius Caesar
around March and may have been ready to hand the play over to the master of the Revels for
official approval by May. Julius Caesar would certainly be
among the earliest of the offerings at the Globe, if not the first. 117 |