I had lately travelled to the city of London, and in my time there did experience going to one of the playhouses that are of such fashion and popularity amongst many in the city. This day that I crossed the river to attend those playhouses is here recounted for any who wish to walk a similar course in their own travels. 

But before I can make descriptions of those busy playhouses, it would be ill of me not to make mention of my troubles in getting to them. I was instructed by a friend before my arrival to travel by carriage where possible but, finding the roads packed with carriages at a standstill, and being told by the proprietor of my lodgings that these were stuffed with others travelling towards the playhouses, I elected to travel by water-taxi to the opposite bank of the river. This is most recommended, for to travel on foot takes one through the stink and bustle of the London Bridge, on which is a great deal of filth, and above which is an indescribable adornment, best avoided.

I first travelled to the Rose amphitheatre, having been told of a performance of Doctor Faustus was occurring that afternoon. It is the oddest building. Like the other open-air playhouses on this south bank, it seems modelled after it’s neighbours, the bearpit and other animal-baiting houses: galleries looking down as if we are to see the actors tear one another to shreds. I have even heard that it was built without a stage so that players could perform one day, and beasts fight one another the next. However, upon my late arrival, I found the actors already retreating under the weight of hisses and heckles from the crowd.

From here I travelled to the Globe Theatre, where the tragedy of King Lear was being enacted. This was a far more agreeable experience, as the placement of my seating ensured that raucous activity in the yard down below could be avoided. My cushioned chair meant my status could be projected, and showcased alongside the acting. However, the ghastly acoustics proved tiresome, as the lengthy play needed my undivided attention. I was not surprised at the vocal responses of the audience, as I too was compelled to comment on the players’ abilities to act so convincingly onstage. Benefit came from the actors delivering their speech up toward my seating and not toward the lowly crowd below. The mere cast of fifteen people proved an intimate performance, and the spectacle of bloodshed at Caesar’s death was a most enthralling yet disturbing experience. I could smell the metallic syrup in the air, as this side of the river was a dark and dangerous place. This proved to be a fanciful twist of fate for the protagonist, as the masses were particularly engrossed in his performance. Prior to this, I saw the very same player in Hamlet, and whilst being completely different in plot, his performance was almost identical. Perhaps the playwright forgot his originality. Yet the tense atmosphere dominated the whole performance, which I see as the best sign of a successful play. All in all a most thrilling evening of theatre.

By Ross, Felix, Francesca and Rebecca.