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The Folger Spotlight

Louis Butelli: Finding A Former Feste

Illustration of Feste by Charlotte Bakewell.

Illustration of Feste by Charlotte Bakewell.

Hello again from your pal Louis Butelli, soon to be rehearsing to play Feste in Robert Richmond’s production of Twelfth Night, beginning April 30th at the Folger Theatre. Tickets are on sale here.

As I mentioned last time (click here), I’m in the process of using the Folger Library’s world-class collection of materials related to Shakespeare and the early modern era in the West to prepare for Twelfth Night. With some help from my Library Sherpa, Folger Circulation Specialist Alan Katz, I’ve been visiting the Library and gently dipping my toes into the river of information that runs through the building.

If you’re a Library lay-person, like myself, the sheer volume of material can be a little bit daunting. As such, Alan graciously took the time to hold my hand as I began. At his suggestion, we started with a “search theory” which, in this case, we’ve been referring to as “Finding Former Festes” – in other words, scouring the records for evidence of other actors who have played the role.

For my first visit, I checked my coat and bag in the cloakroom (no bags, pens, or sharp objects allowed inside), signed in with Eric Castillo, the friendly attendant in the antechamber – which I have come to think of as the “air lock” – and passed through the Gail Kern Paster Reading Room. There are so many things to say about this room, some of which I’ve already said here, but that’s for another entry.

The Reading Room at the Folger Shakespeare Library.

The Reading Room at the Folger Shakespeare Library.

I headed downstairs to the circulation desk where Alan was waiting for me. To avoid any kind of panic attack on my part, we decided to start small. We opened a web browser and called up HAMNET, the Folger’s complete online catalogue, (you can follow along at home, if you like!) and entered just one search term…the word “Feste.” This was enough to get us started. The search returned 86 results, inclusive of art works, music, and, of course, books.

Keeping things simple, we decided to start with just a few titles to get me going. Armed with call numbers – Folger is organized using the Library of Congress system – Alan took me down into the stacks where the “Modern” collection is housed.

We pulled three books:

“The Fools of Shakespeare” by Frederick Warde, McBride, Nast & Co., New York, 1913

“Wise Fools in Shakespeare” by Robert Hillis Goldsmith, Michigan State University Press, Michigan, 1955

“Shakespeare’s Great Stage of Fools” by Robert H. Bell, Palgrave Macmillan, New York, 2011

Library Sherpa Alan Katz (left), with Louis Butelli, brushing up on some fools.

Library Sherpa Alan Katz (left), with Louis Butelli, brushing up on some fools.

As I suspected, these books did a phenomenal job of unpacking “Feste” the character, his relationship to the play itself, and the impact the Fools and clowns have on all of Shakespeare’s plays.

All three books hit on Feste’s scene with Viola in III,i of Twelfth Night, wherein the two discuss what it is to be a fool. Weird sidenote:  Feste is only ever referred to by name once in the play, by Curio in II,iv. The rest of the time he is referred to as “Fool,” and in the stage directions, he is listed as “Clown.”

VIOLA: I warrant thou art a merry fellow and carest for nothing.

Clown: Not so, sir, I do care for something; but in my
conscience, sir, I do not care for you: if that be
to care for nothing, sir, I would it would make you invisible.

VIOLA: Art not thou the Lady Olivia’s fool?

Clown: No, indeed, sir; the Lady Olivia has no folly: she
will keep no fool, sir, till she be married; and
fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to
herrings; the husband’s the bigger: I am indeed not
her fool, but her corrupter of words.

VIOLA: I saw thee late at the Count Orsino’s.

Clown: Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun,
it shines every where.

And then this from Viola, upon Feste’s exit:

VIOLA: This fellow is wise enough to play the fool;
And to do that well craves a kind of wit:
He must observe their mood on whom he jests,
The quality of persons, and the time,
And, like the haggard, cheque at every feather
That comes before his eye. This is a practise
As full of labour as a wise man’s art
For folly that he wisely shows is fit;
But wise men, folly-fall’n, quite taint their wit.

Louis Butelli's private reading shelf. Talk about clout!

Louis Butelli’s private reading shelf. Talk about clout!

Great stuff in these books, all three of which I can recommend highly to fans and/or aficionados of Shakespeare’s comic characters. Still, in terms of “Finding Former Festes,” we were just a little bit out of luck…with one very notable exception.

All three books mentioned a gentleman called Robert Armin, who was a shareholder and company member in Shakespeare’s ensemble at the Globe. The late, great “melancholy” clowns – Touchstone, Lear’s Fool, and Feste, for example – were written for Armin to play. He’s long been a kind of pet obsession of mine, along with the great clown Will Kemp who Armin replaced. There’s lots I’d like to say about these guys…but that’s for another post.

Meanwhile, Alan and I returned to HAMNET and plugged in “Robert Armin,” and up came a virtual treasure trove. For the purposes of this entry, I’ll limit myself to just one book.

Armin himself was a writer, and we found a pretty excellent book, which is a compendium of his four major works:

“Occasional Issues of Unique and Very Rare Books,” A.B. Grosart, ed. Printed in 1880 by Charles E. Simms, Manchester, UK (62 copies only). Volume 14, “The Works of Robert Armin,” 1605-1609. Handwritten notes in text and margins by someone with the initials “BN.”

This was all pretty chilling. In addition to the works themselves, the volume contains reproductions of the original title pages, three of which originals are in the Folger collection, just waiting for me to come and take a look at the next time I’m in.

Robert Armin.

Robert Armin.

Armin’s four titles are…

Foole Upon Foole (a book of jests), Nest of Ninnies (the same book of jests with some new material, probably re-released to sell more copies), The Maids of More-clacke (a play), and The Italian Tailor and his Boy (a long verse poem).

I’ll just focus on two of these briefly to conclude the entry.

“The History of the Two Maids of More-Clacke – with the Life and Simple Maner of John in the Hospitall,” printed for Thomas Archer, London, 1609, for sale in his shop.

While this play does not contain Shakespeare’s genius, and is prone to no small number of ambiguities – some of which are related to sloppiness in the printing process, some of which are related to the mysterious and incomplete notation of character, and some of which are due to, shall we say, the lack of an editor – it is pretty fascinating to see what sort of play Armin wrote for himself to appear in.

It is theorized that Shakespeare wrote many of his characters with particular actors from his company in mind. In this way he could play to their strengths and unique skill sets. In a roundabout way, then, reading Maids of More-Clacke was a bit like reading a play written by Feste himself. As such, it is filled with a fair amount of chaos, mistaken identity, disguises, mismatched lovers, and idiocy – on the part of John in the Hospitall, a lunatic, played by Armin himself. There are long sequences, John’s particularly, that sucked me in and put a big smile on my face. Still, there were others that had me completely baffled. I look forward to returning for another read.

“Foole Upon Foole, or Six Sortes of Sottes,” printed for William Ferbrann, London, 1605. “Not so strange as true.”

This is a “book of jests,” or, a series of anecdotes about six Fools who were well known to Armin and his contemporaries. Armin was interested in the distinction between “natural fools,” people who we would probably classify as “mentally ill” in some way or another, and “artificial fools,” those who told jokes for a living, or were represented on stage. “Foole Upon Foole” has some of each. As Armin promises on the title page, the book tells tales of “a flat foole and a fatt foole, a leane foole and a cleane foole, a merry foole and a verrie foole.”

Will Sommers.

Will Sommers.

One of the fools Armin details in the text is a gentleman by the name of Will Sommers. Will was court jester to King Henry VIII and, it is said, was the only person who could make Harry laugh when he fell into one of his renowned fits of rage. I single him out for mention because, in a strange confluence of foolery, I played Will in Folger Theatre’s production of Shakespeare’s Henry VIII in 2010. Director Robert Richmond inserted Will into the story as a kind of guide, or “conduit” for the story. I absolutely loved playing him, and he holds a special place in my heart.

I’ll close the entry by quoting from a section wherein the King, being “melancholy,” calls for Will who asks him three questions. The first two failed to cheer the King, but the third seemed to do the trick. Here, then, is Robert Armin writing about the jests of Will Sommers:

Now tell me, sayes Will, if you can, what it is, that being borne without life, head, nose, lip, or eye, and yet runnes terribly roaring through ye world till it dies? This is a wonder qd the King, & no question, & I know it not. Why, quoth Will, it is a fart. At this the King laught hartily, & was exceeding merry and bids Will aske any reasonable thing, & he would grant it. Thanks, Harry, sayes he, now against I want, I know where to find, for yet I need nothing: but one day I shall: for every man sees his latter end, but knows not his beginning. The King understood his meaning, and so pleasantly departed for that season, and Will layes him downe amongst the Spaniels to sleep.

These words, written by the original Feste regarding one of his progenitors, help immeasurably in starting to envision the “Feste” that I’ll portray. He is brave in the face of supreme power, he is clever and crude, he is rewarded for his jesting, but prefers a life unencumbered and is most content to bed down with the dogs.

Alan and I were only able to find one “Former Feste” this time, but, I’d say, we found the best of the bunch.

OK. More Literary Spelunking to come. Until next time!

Comments

Brilliant portrait of the two of you, especially with the photobomb by “The Infant Shakespeare” and “Joy” (modeled by Emma Hamilton) over your left shoulder.

Erin Blake — March 28, 2013

Hahaha! Thanks, Erin! It’s the first time I’ve ever appeared in a pic with “The Infant Shakespeare,” and one of the very few times that “Joy” has made a surprise appearance in my life, as a photobomb or otherwise. Unless, of course, by “Joy,” you mean “Alan.” Hope to see you soon!

Louis Butelli — March 28, 2013

Be it research, direction, or your own genius, the Feste I saw Saturday afternoon was a wonder, and a fine ukulele player! It was an interesting integration of Fabian’s part, as well. Thanks for a truly outstanding production.

Jeffrey Fox — May 13, 2013

Thank you very, very much, Jeffrey! We’re having a blast – and I’m so pleased you enjoyed the show. Please recommend us to some friends! Cheers.

Louis Butelli — May 14, 2013

[…] I’ve written an article for the Folger Theatre Production Diary about some of my research for playing Feste, with some pretty juicy stuff about Fools – check it out by clicking here! […]

Playing the Fools, Part 1 | Folger SHAKESPEARE LIBRARY — May 30, 2013

Robert Armin’s A Nest of Ninnies establishes he had contemplated the nature of foolery, reaching the conclusion in Foole upon Foole (Folly) that a progression of folly was possible. Then, suddenly, we get those Great Words, I am…her corrupter of words. And with that, the pun was born. English humour, as the Europeans call it, as they couldn’t fathom it until René Goscinny unleashed Astérix on them. His rate of puns per cm has rarely been rivalled.
More to the point, this change of styles exactly corresponds with Armin’s arrival on the team. It’s not Shakespeare writing for Armin, as he had for Tarleton and Kempe, his predecessors, there was no differentiation there. This is an entirely new voice, Armin’s own. It’s doing something new, and very distinctive.
In 1619, the Lord Chancellor Sir Francis Bacon, whose role in politics was akin to that of the modern Prime Minister, sat Shakespeare’s impressario Edward Allleyn down to write a will. The guy had invested his income in land, and now owned most of the land south of the Thames: in American terms, he owned most of Brooklyn and Queens. He decided to leave his money for the foundation of Dulwich College of God’s Gift, for the education of “12 poor boys of the Parish”, which seems nonsensical, until you realise the female roles, performed by the boys, had been in print since 1594; Shakespeare himself had died in 1616, and the need was clear, they had to be able to read to learn their parts. The entire documentation of the Foundation survived and was found quite recently.

As a short diversion, in the late 19th Century, the School expanded, with the Junior School becoming Alleyn’s School. In 1955, it created the National Youth Theatre, and might have also created a National Youth Choir, had Benjamin Britten not shared his bed with a future film star, David Hemmings (who was just 11 at the time). Both swore to their dying day that was as far as it went, but safeguarding ended Britten’s involvement. Having been mentored by Sir Geraint Evans’ lady Brenda through voice break, I and two others got the choir restarted. Major performers since include Jude Law and Florence Welch (some kind of Machine operator, it seems), and from the community outreach, John Boyega.

In conclusion, what was going on was rather like a Pantomime. We know from the Stationers Register many of the songs in Shakespeare were original compositions by his performers. The was simply leaving a slot in his narrative for a performer to deliver his hit: “meanwhile, elsewhere in the Forest of Arden…” And this was no different. Why keep a wit and bark yourself?

Rahere — August 24, 2022