The Rose

Step down from the street and the air changes. It is cooler here, and slightly damp, with the faint mineral smell of wet earth. In the half-light, a line of red light traces a curving shape across the dark ground below you. That shape is the outline of a theatre. More than four hundred years ago, crowds pressed into this space to watch plays by some of the greatest writers in the English language. Today you stand above its bones.

This is the Rose, on Bankside in Southwark, just a short walk from the south bank of the Thames. It opened in 1587, and it was the first purpose-built playhouse in this part of London. That matters. Before the Rose, Bankside was known for bear-baiting arenas, taverns and pleasure gardens. After it, the district became the theatre quarter of Elizabethan London. The famous Globe came later, and it was built only a few streets away.

Why here, on the south side of the river? The answer is about rules. The City of London, across the water, was governed by authorities who disliked theatres. They worried about crowds, disorder and the spread of plague. Southwark sat outside their direct control. So entertainers, gamblers and playhouse owners gathered on this bank. Londoners crossed the Thames by boat or by London Bridge to reach them, and the riverside filled with noise on performance days.

The man behind the Rose was Philip Henslowe, a businessman with interests in property, lending and entertainment. Henslowe was not a writer or an actor. He was an investor, and a careful one. And here is the first surprise. His account book survives. It is usually called Henslowe's Diary, and it is kept today at Dulwich College in south London. It records payments to writers, loans to actors, costume purchases and takings from performances. Historians treat it as one of the most important documents of the Elizabethan stage.

That diary gives us a picture of daily theatre life that we simply do not have for most playhouses of the time. It lists play titles, and it shows how often they were performed. It notes money spent on costumes and props. It even records small loans to struggling writers. For a historian, it is like finding the receipts behind a whole industry. Much of what we know about how Elizabethan theatre worked as a business comes from the pages of this one man's book.

The stage of the Rose saw some extraordinary work. The plays of Christopher Marlowe were performed here, including Tamburlaine, Doctor Faustus and The Jew of Malta. Marlowe was the great dramatic voice of the late 1580s, bold and dangerous, and he died young in 1593. The leading actor of the company was Edward Alleyn, a tall performer famous for powerful roles. Alleyn married Henslowe's stepdaughter, which tied the stage and the money closely together.

And Shakespeare? Records suggest that some of his early plays were staged at the Rose. Henslowe's diary mentions performances of titles that scholars connect with his early history plays and with Titus Andronicus. So it is very likely that Shakespeare's work was heard in this space before the Globe was built. We cannot be certain he stood here himself. But the words of the young playwright almost certainly reached an audience on this very patch of ground.

Look again at that glowing outline. The Rose was a many-sided building, close to a circle, with timber galleries around an open yard. Ordinary playgoers stood in the yard, close to the stage, while wealthier visitors paid more to sit in the galleries. In 1592, Henslowe enlarged the theatre, and the stage was moved back to make room for more people. Archaeologists found evidence of both phases, so the remains show the building before and after that change.

Now for the second surprise. The excavation turned up large numbers of hazelnut shells in the yard. Elizabethan playgoers snacked as they watched, and they dropped the shells at their feet. Pressed into the ground, those shells helped form a kind of floor. Archaeologists also found pieces of pottery money boxes. These boxes were used to collect entrance money, and they were smashed open to get the coins out. Small objects like these bring the audience back more clearly than any portrait could.

The Rose did not last long. After the Globe opened nearby in 1599, competition grew fierce. Henslowe and Alleyn later moved much of their business to a new playhouse north of the river. By the early seventeenth century, the Rose was no longer in use, and it was eventually demolished. The site was built over again and again. For centuries, most Londoners walking down these streets had no idea that a theatre lay beneath their feet.

That changed in 1989. Builders were clearing the site for a new office development, and archaeologists were given time to investigate. They found the foundations of the Rose, remarkably well preserved. News spread quickly. Actors, writers and members of the public gathered here to demand that the remains be protected. Famous names from the British stage joined the campaign. The protests made national headlines, and the building plans were changed so that the remains could survive underneath.

What you see today is a careful compromise. The office building stands above, and the theatre remains lie in the basement below. Much of the archaeology is covered and kept in damp conditions, because drying out could damage it. That is why the space feels cool and why the remains are not fully exposed. The red lights mark where walls and the stage once stood. A charity looks after the site, and it hosts talks, tours and small performances in this unusual setting.

Take a moment before you leave. Listen to how quiet it is down here, and compare that with the noise this ground once held. Hawkers, actors, shouting crowds and the crack of hazelnut shells underfoot. When you climb back up to the street, look around you. The lanes nearby still carry names linked to this old pleasure district. Walk toward the river, past the rebuilt Globe, and you are following the same route that Elizabethan playgoers took home.