Cold Open

It’s May 30th 1593, in a lodging house in London, England.

29-year-old playwright Christopher Marlowe picks up a brimming tankard of ale and lifts it unsteadily above his head, before emptying it in a few gulping mouthfuls.

His companions cheer and pound their fists on the table. Christopher has spent all day drinking with Ingram Frizier and two other friends—and the men are all very, very drunk.

At first glance, the four seem unlikely drinking buddies. Christopher is a playwright, but the others aren’t from the world of theater at all. Word on the street is they work for Queen Elizabeth I’s chief spycatcher, Sir Francis Walsingham. Today, though, it’s not drama or espionage that concerns them - it’s merely drinking. And the more ale the four friends consume, the louder and more obnoxious they become.

The lodging house's landlady leans across the table to clear their empty drinks, and Ingram orders another round. But Christopher can’t resist the opportunity to slap the woman across the backside. The landlady gives Christopher a stern look before heading back to the kitchen.

Christopher gets up as if to follow, but his head is spinning, and he doesn’t get very far before he lurches toward a nearby couch for support. A moment later, the landlady returns demanding that the four men pay what they owe before she brings another round. Ingram points angrily at Christopher, blaming his behavior for the landlady’s ultimatum. But Christopher has been drinking all day, and he’s quick to anger. After exchanging heated words with Ingram, Christopher rears up from the couch and advances with clenched fists.

Ingram responds by drawing a knife. But Christopher’s so mad that he won’t back down. He tries to grab Ingram’s wrist, and the two men struggle over the blade.

Neither man is in a state to fight properly. The two quickly lose their balance and, both still gripping the knife, fall heavily to the ground. There’s jeering laughter in the tavern at the short and clumsy brawl. But that falls suddenly silent as Ingram scrambles back to his feet, his face deathly pale. His friend Christopher isn’t breathing - and a pool of blood is spreading beneath his unmoving body.

Christopher Marlowe's death brings to an end a short but successful career as a playwright. For a time, Christopher was one of William Shakespeare’s biggest rivals in the world of English theater. But it’s not just Christopher’s plays that will be remembered. His sexuality, his true loyalties, and his covert activities away from the stage will puzzle and intrigue scholars, authors and the public long after that bar-room brawl that killed him on May 30th 1593.

Introduction

From Noiser and Airship, I’m Lindsay Graham and this is History Daily.

History is made every day. On this podcast—every day—we tell the true stories of the people and events that shaped our world.

Today is May 30th, 1593. The Killing of Shakespeare’s Rival

Act One

It’s 1585 in the town of Cambridge, England, eight years before the death of Christopher Marlowe.

A university scholar ambles across the small courtyard of Corpus Christi College. The scholar has no intention of hitting the books today. Instead, the young man walks through the college gates and heads straight across the street to the Black Bull Inn. He ducks under the low door, and into the thick fog of tobacco smoke inside to spot his friend, 21-year-old Christopher Marlowe. Christopher is with a group of other Corpus students, holding court at a long table by the window. Christopher rises to his feet with a grin as the scholar approaches, then calls to the barmaid for another drink—not just for the newly-arrived scholar, but for the entire table.

Christopher’s generosity is well-known at Corpus Christi. But it hasn’t gone unnoticed that Christopher seems to have far more money than befits his status. Christopher comes from a working-class background. His father is a shoemaker, and the only way he got into Corpus was with an academic scholarship. Because of his humble roots, Christopher’s profligate spending has become the subject of rumors—but today, the scholar is happy that he is the recipient of Christopher’s generous spending.

When the barmaid brings over the drinks, Christopher drains his tankard quickly, wiping foam off his mustache. Then, he stands and excuses himself, saying he needs to go to the outhouse. It’s not long before the scholar also feels the call of nature, so he follows Christopher out of the door a few moments later. But as the scholar wanders into the yard of the inn, he sees Christopher standing in the alleyway, speaking in a low voice to a man barely visible in the shadows.

The scholar tries to get a closer look, but he’s no spy and Christopher soon clocks him. The shadowy figure immediately melts away as Christopher comes over, looking annoyed. He tells the scholar that he’ll rejoin their group in a few minutes, and uses a tone implying it would be a very good idea if the scholar minded his own business. The scholar takes the hint and retreats apologetically. When Christopher returns to the table later, the scholar doesn’t ask who the shadowy figure was, or what Christopher had been talking to him about.

Over the next few months, though, the scholar hears whispers that might explain Christopher’s odd behavior and his bulging purse. Several other young men at Corpus think Christopher is a secret Catholic spy who’s being bankrolled by foreign powers.

Fifty years ago, King Henry VIII broke off relations with the Pope in Rome and declared himself the head of a new Church of England. Ever since then, religion has been a source of bitter conflict in the country. Both Protestants and Catholics have been persecuted as power in London has changed hands between different rulers and religions. Now, Henry’s daughter Elizabeth is Queen. She’s a Protestant although religiously more moderate than some hardliners would wish. Under her rule, fines are still levied on anyone who doesn’t attend Church of England services. But despite these restrictions, it’s common knowledge that there are many secret Catholics in England. And there is widespread paranoia about plots to depose Elizabeth and restore England to the authority of the Pope.

To combat any treasonous plans, Queen Elizabeth’s spymaster Sir Francis Walsingham has created a network of informants. Their job is to keep their ears to the ground and report any plots against the queen—and Walsingham’s  favorite recruiting grounds for agents are the university towns of Cambridge and Oxford.

So, the gossip in Cambridge is excited - but contradictory. Either Christoper Marlowe is a crypto-Catholic in secret training to become a priest - or he is in fact in the pay of Sir Francis Walsingham to protect the Protestant queen.

The rumors about Christopher reach a head in 1587 when he completes his studies at Corpus Christi. Christopher expects to graduate with his peers, but the university leaders have other ideas. They’ve also heard the rumors that Christopher is a closet Catholic—and they suspect that after he graduates, Christopher plans to move to France to become a priest. In response, the university bars Christopher from receiving his degree. But in an unexpected turn of events, the university then receives a letter from the Privy Council—an influential body of advisors that serves Queen Elizabeth. The letter praises Christopher for his “faithful dealing” and “good service to the Queen.” It’s scant on details about exactly what he has done, but it’s enough to persuade the university’s leaders to back down and allow Christopher to graduate.

But after he leaves Cambridge, Christopher will use his education in a way no one predicted. He won’t go to France to become a priest, or start working full time for Sir Francis Walsingham. Instead, Christopher will become a playwright. But even in the theater world, he will remain a magnet for gossip, and soon he’ll find himself waging a battle with the most famous writer of the age: William Shakespeare.

Act Two

It’s 1587 at the Rose Theater in London, England, a few months after Christopher Marlowe graduated from Corpus Christi College, Cambridge.

The now 23-year-old Christopher lurks in the shadows as paying customers file into the theater. The audience pays Christopher no attention as they rush inside, jostling to get the best seats. Christopher is happy as the floor quickly fills up until the last few patrons have to push their way in. They’re all here today to see a play that Christopher hopes will be his breakthrough in one of England’s fastest growing industries: theater.

Eleven years ago, the first permanent playhouse opened in London. It was named simply “The Theater”, and it was a spectacular success. Since then, a number of other playhouses have been built, and several theatrical companies have been established to perform in them. The Rose Theater is the newest venue in town holding over two thousand people, and today a capacity crowd has squeezed in to watch the premiere of Tamburlaine The Great, Christopher’s tale of the rise and fall of a fourteenth-century Asian emperor.

A hush descends over the crowd as the actors take the stage—and as the first scene goes ahead without any hitches, Christopher feels himself relax. Usually, the actors have to battle to be heard over noisy chatter coming from the auditorium. But today, everyone is riveted by the action on the stage. Even the vendors have stopped hawking drinks and snacks to watch the play unfold. The audience is transfixed for every one of the five acts, and when the last line is uttered, they erupt into applause. Christopher allows himself a smile as the actors take a bow. 

It’s the first of many sold-out performances of Tamburlaine the Great. Audiences at The Rose are enraptured not just by the plot, but by Christopher’s unusual writing style. Most plays in Elizabethan London are delivered in rhyme. But Christopher uses a little-used, unrhyming technique known as blank verse. He thinks it makes his writing more powerful and direct—and judging by the response of his audience, he’s right.

But Christopher has little time to bask in his success. The theater company wants another play from him as quickly as possible. So for his next work, Christopher chooses to continue where he left off. Tamburlaine Part Two proves just as popular as the original. Christopher knows that part of its success is down to its leading man though. So, after Edward Alleyn captured the hearts of audiences with his portrayal of Tamburlaine, Christopher asks Edward to take the title role in his next two plays as well: first The Jew of Malta and then Doctor Faustus. Edward’s performances and Christopher’s captivating writing combine to make them the most popular shows in London.

But Christopher isn’t the only playwright battling for the attention of theatergoers. Around four years after Tamburlaine the Great premieres at the Rose Theater, a newcomer breaks into the competitive world of theater. William Shakespeare announces his arrival with Henry VI which adopts the same non-rhyming blank verse that Christopher found success with. But Shakespeare is a prolific writer and soon begins churning out scripts at a far quicker rate than Christopher can manage who recently has been increasingly distracted with run-ins with the law. Old rumors spread that Christopher is not a true believer in the Church of England, and is therefore not loyal to Queen Elizabeth I. There are also claims that Christopher has had affairs with men, which is against the law. And he’s even implicated in a murder investigation.

Christopher doesn’t always help himself either. In early 1593, Christopher and his theater company are asked to perform for Queen Elizabeth and the Archbishop of Canterbury. Christopher wants to pull out all the stops for this royal performance. But his showmanship stretches the bounds of decency. One scene involves a corpse, and Christopher decides to use an actual dead body as a prop. 

This stunt misfires spectacularly. The Archbishop of Canterbury walks out in disgust, and Queen Elizabeth orders the play to end prematurely. Christopher and his theater company leave the palace embarrassed, all of them convinced that they’ve just ended their career on the stage.

But Christopher will soon have even bigger worries than offending the queen. More questions will emerge over his loyalty to the English church and the throne—and in a new investigation, Christopher won’t just risk losing his career as a playwright. He’ll risk losing his head as well.

Act Three

It’s May 18th, 1593, in London, four months after a royal performance of a Christopher Marlowe play was brought to a sudden halt by Queen Elizabeth I.

29-year-old Christopher lounges in the home of his friend Thomas Walsingham, cousin to the Queen’s spymaster, Sir Francis Walsingham. Christopher is relaxed as Thomas has a roaring fire and a copious supply of good ale.

But Christopher’s serene mood is shattered when there’s a hammering on the door. Thomas disappears to see who it is, and when he returns, he is pale-faced and accompanied by several armed guards. Thomas announces that these men have arrived with orders from his cousin Sir Francis to arrest Christopher.

When Christopher is questioned, he finds out the charge against him is atheism. Incriminating documents have been found in the house of a fellow playwright, and that man has claimed that the papers belong to Christopher. If the charges against him are proven, Christopher is at risk of being executed.

Christopher is taken to the Palace of Whitehall to face an immediate trial in front of the Privy Council—but when he gets there, Christopher finds that the Council is not convening today. So, Christopher is granted bail on condition that he reports daily to an officer of the court.

Christopher does as he’s told. But for days there’s no indication that he is going to be summoned to answer the charges. Hoping that the matter has been swept under the rug, Christopher cautiously resumes the routine of his normal life.

But Christopher will not live long enough to see his name officially cleared. Only twelve days after his arrest, Christopher spends the day drinking with three friends and rumored spies when the day takes a violent turn. To some observers, Christopher’s death at the hands of suspected government agents is a convenient way to be rid of a troublesome celebrity whose loyalty to the queen has never been completely trusted. To others though, a bar-room brawl seems a somehow suitable end for a man who has become as famous for his carousing as he has for his writing.

Thanks in part to his premature death, Christopher’s achievements as a playwright will be overshadowed by those of his contemporary, William Shakespeare. But Christopher will continue to be the subject of rumor and speculation for centuries to come. Historians still debate whether he helped Shakespeare write some of his plays, whether he was a Catholic or a spy, and whether in fact Queen Elizabeth’s spymaster Sir Francis Walsingham ordered Christopher Marlowe's death before he was killed in a tavern brawl on May 30th, 1593.

Outro

Next on History Daily. May 31st, 1921. A Black teenager is accused of assaulting a white woman, sparking racial violence in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

From Noiser and Airship, this is History Daily, hosted, edited, and executive produced by me, Lindsay Graham.

Audio editing by Muhammad Shahzaib.

Sound design by Mollie Baack.

Music by Thrumm.

This episode is written and researched by Rob Scragg.

Edited by Scott Reeves.

Managing producer, Emily Burke.

Executive Producers are William Simpson for Airship, and Pascal Hughes for Noiser.