“…but as for fame, it’s just a name…”

Blackfriars Playhouse interior. Photo by Lauren D. Rogers.

What was it like to see a play in the 1590s? The good folks at the Blackfriars Playhouse in Staunton, Virginia, answer that question at least five nights a week, as unflagging actors stage the work of Shakespeare and his contemporaries in a cozy recreation of Shakespeare’s first theater in London. The Blackfriars is now in the throes of its Actors’ Renaissance Season, the annual late-winter whirlwind where a dozen actors direct themselves and play all of the roles in five plays at once, with only a few days to prepare and rehearse. (There’s a prompter nearby, but it’s a sign of the actors’ immersion in their work that they rarely need to “prithee” him.)

This weekend, we drove down to Staunton for two shows: Aphra Behn’s “The Rover,” which taught me a useful new 17th-century exclamation—‘sheartlikins!—and John Webster’s “The White Devil,” a lurid, over-the-top revenge tragedy packed with vivid metaphors and similes about death and the cruel indifference of nature. “But keep the wolf far thence, that’s foe to men, / For with his nails he’ll dig them up again”—T.S. Eliot parodied those lines, and I was startled to hear the originals spoken by a grieving mother; it’s rare to spot a footnote from “The Waste Land” running loose in the wild.

Because I’ve written so much about Charlemagne, I was also surprised to hear a character name-check the Carolingians during one of Webster’s most frantic scenes: Two women think they’re tricking a scoundrel named Flamineo into a complex, three-way suicide pact, but he’s actually tricking them into revealing their falseness by giving them pistols loaded with blanks. As he feigns preparation for death, he muses on his afterlife—so the Blackfriars actor said something like this:

Whither shall I go now? O Lucian, thy ridiculous purgatory! To find Alexander the Great cobbling shoes, and Julius Caesar making hair buttons, and King Pippin crying apples in a cart.

A reference to one of the Pippins, but not Charlemagne? That surprised me, so I looked up the full text of the play, and sure enough, the Big C is right where I thought he would be:

Whither shall I go now? O Lucian thy ridiculous purgatory! To find Alexander the Great cobbling shoes, Pompey tagging points, and Julius Caesar making hair buttons, Hannibal selling blacking, and Augustus crying garlic, Charlemagne selling lists by the dozen, and King Pippin crying apples in a cart drawn with one horse.
Whether I resolve to fire, earth, water, air,
Or all the elements by scruples, I know not
Nor greatly care—Shoot, shoot,
Of all deaths the violent death is best,
Far from ourselves it steals ourselves so fast
The pain once apprehended is quite past.

What intrigued me here is that either the actor, overwhelmed by having to learn five plays at once, skipped over several of the mighty men who are reduced to menial labor in purgatory—or, more likely, he and his castmates cut the play for time, paring down this overwrought passage to the three names an early 21st-century audience might know: Alexander, Julius Caesar, and…Pippin?

Although they all had the same name, Charlemagne’s disfavored hunchback son who inspired the 1972 jazz-hands musical wasn’t the same guy as Charlemagne’s other son Pippin, who ruled Italy, or Charlemagne’s father Pippin, the first Carolingian king. The fact that a Pippin made the cut but Charlemagne didn’t hints at the priorities of theater people, who know the musical but not necessarily the history behind it—but that’s not a complaint. The Blackfriars’ productions are engrossing and smart, historical figures are doomed to whirl ’round Fortune’s wheel, and Webster knew that drawing sustenance from the mouldering past is part of the natural and necessary gloom of life:

Or, like the black and melancholic yew-tree,
Dost think to root thyself in dead men’s graves,
And yet to prosper?

4 thoughts on ““…but as for fame, it’s just a name…”

  1. I had not heard of the Blackfriar’s Playhouse, but now I will definitely check it out (a great excuse for a road trip!). Based on the photograph and your description, the venue seems charming. I am a huge fan of Chesapeake Shakespeare Company whose new digs are a renovated historical bank building in Baltimore, but I love that the Blackfriar’s is a recreation of the Bard’s first London theater.

    I had read The Rover in a Brit-lit class about ten years ago, but it seemed rather obscure and I would not have expected to find a live production of it nearby – how neat!

    I also love how you identified the original source of one of Eliot’s allusions in The Waste Land. I’ll have to dig it out and see for myself.

    Thanks so much for sharing your experiences, observations, and literary insights (both in this post and generally). This is my first time commenting, but I always enjoy your engaging and informative blog posts.

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  2. Thanks for stopping by, Andrea! And thanks for your kind words.

    I think you’d like the Blackfriars. What’s great about it is that you really have three opportunities: to see Shakespeare’s major works stripped down to their basics; to see rarely staged works by Shakespeare; or to see lesser-known plays by his contemporaries and successors that almost no one ever stages. Sometimes you learn that there are very good reasons why the lesser-known plays haven’t been staged, but the actors are always impressive, the mood is cheerful, and it’s just a fun time overall. (And their current production of “The Rover” is quite good.)

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  3. I had not heard of this theatre either. The Tyroleans seem more enthusiastic about the music of the Baroque and later than about early drama and poetry, and I wonder when secular plays came into fashion in the Germanies. Where I grew up Shakespeare was a playwright for the outdoors in the summer, but that would certainly not work in Virginia in February!

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  4. Hi, Sean—yeah, the Blackfriars is a remarkable place, but thank goodness the place is not open to the elements! There are quite a few outdoor summer Shakespeare performances in the U.S., but I’m not generally a fan; not enough shade.

    So far we’ve seen productions of plays by Heywood, Jonson, Beaumont, Fletcher, Webster, and Behn; the Blackfriars does a remarkable job of filling in gaps in the literary-theatrical knowledge of someone like me while also entertaining more casual theater-goers.

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