Chapter XI: Act III: , scene i, when Malvolio courts Olivia. The full merging of (7)

The last verb may be deceptive. In _The Devil’s Charter_ the stage direction “they vanish” describes the departure of the ghosts through an outer door. In _Jeronimo_ a ghost is said to have vanished though he still delivers another five lines before he exits through the stage door. Altogether the evidence indicates that the ghost scenes were staged with a minimum use of stage properties or machinery, with great simplicity and with standard methods.

In Shakespeare’s Globe plays there are forty-one farewell or greeting scenes of different degrees of elaboration. These amenities do not seem to have been perfunctory affairs, casually staged, but were ceremonious in manner, much more so than modern productions reveal. Embracing, particularly in farewells, handshaking, and kneeling all played a part in the ritual of greeting and bidding farewell. Whenever one person meets or leaves a group, he does so formally, witness _Troilus and Cressida_, Act IV, scene v, which contains greetings to both Cressida and Hector. Perhaps the hails of the witches to Macbeth were in imitation of courtly greetings. The manner of greeting can be glimpsed through the jaundiced eyes of Apemantus as he watches Timon welcome Alcibiades, obviously with bows and genuflections.

So, so there!
Aches contract and starve your supple joints!
[I, i, 256-257]

To a superior figure, whether King (_All’s Well_, I, ii), Protector (_Pericles_, I, iv), or mother (_Coriolanus_, II, i), kneeling was the accepted manner of greeting or being greeted. Although doffing the hat was the accepted sign of greeting a superior, among equals bowing or shaking hands was usual.

Embracing of men appears quite clearly in farewell scenes. Antony and Caesar embrace at parting (III, ii, 61-64), as do Flavius, Timon’s steward, and his fellows in _Timon of Athens_, (IV, ii, 29 f.). The farewell without ceremony, which Helen receives from Bertram (_All’s Well_, II, v, 59-97) is particularly offensive. In the same way as in greeting, the departing character, when he leaves a group, formalizes his farewells by making the rounds (_Coriolanus_, IV, i). Tears usually flow at such a farewell. Every group farewell scene in Shakespeare where a woman is present is bathed in tears (Virgilia in _Coriolanus_, IV, i; Octavia in _Antony and Cleopatra_, III, ii; Lychorida in _Pericles_, III, iii; Cordelia in _Lear_, I, i, 271). Natural patterns of decorum as well as inclinations toward uniformity characterize these scenes as a whole. Although standard external means of greeting and bidding farewell exist throughout the plays, they are observed with ceremony and rendered with deliberation.

Most of the scenes or devices considered heretofore are relatively uniform in manner and frequency throughout the Globe plays, Shakespearean and non-Shakespearean alike. The messenger, however, is a unique figure peculiar to Shakespeare. On the average, about five messengers appear in each of Shakespeare’s Globe plays, compared to an average of about one in each of the non-Shakespearean plays. Shakespeare’s messengers may be divided into two classes. Fairly often a character in a play will assume the function of the messenger in order to deliver a report. Essentially, this is what Gertrude does when she describes the death of Ophelia (_Hamlet_, IV, vii). Characters as messengers generally do not assume a special manner but continue to maintain their own identities.

The other type of messenger is the formal messenger. There are forty-three of these as compared to thirty-one character messengers in Shakespeare’s Globe plays. The generic messenger usually has no identity. His manner is often theatrical rather than natural. This is particularly evident when he does not inform but directs the superior characters (_Julius Caesar_, V, i, 12-15; _Coriolanus_, II, i, 276-284). Occasionally the situation demands some veil of characterization (_Antony and Cleopatra_, II, v; _Julius Caesar_, III, i). In those instances the messenger takes on the qualities of a servant.

The dramatic function of the messenger was to change the course of the scene, to bring some outside force to bear upon the characters on stage, and, by doing so, to provoke some alteration in the passions or actions of the characters. The salutation accorded the messenger is usually brief, yet attention is clearly focused upon him. The usual respect of servant to master does not seem to be present, but instead it is replaced by an imperious manner. A curious feature of the staging is that no exit is marked for the formal messenger after he delivers his message. Sometimes he is dismissed by the one who receives the message, sometimes he is held back to answer questions, but it is not clear where he goes or how he joins the rest of the actors. I am inclined to believe that he usually exits immediately after delivering his message. There are several scenes in which a series of messengers enter to report a changing situation (_Coriolanus_, IV, vi, 37-79; _Troilus and Cressida_, V, v). The effect of mounting pressure depends upon the repeated entrance and exit of the messengers. The intensification such scenes require could be effectively produced by the entrance of the messenger at one door, and after his report, by his exit at another. If this were regular practice at the Globe, the playwright did not need to mark an exit for him.

The formal messenger is an example of a purely conventional figure who is not symbolic. Whether he had a prototype in Elizabethan life or he was a creation of dramatic technique, he still emerged as a conventional figure, changing little from Caesar’s Rome to Macbeth’s Scotland. Attention was concentrated on his function--not his character. Therefore, he was granted a forthrightness of expression not found in other stage servants.

Excluded from the study of staging have been many scenes which depend primarily upon acting. In these scenes, which make up large segments of the plays, the qualities of clear speech and passionate action play the major part. A discussion of their staging would be fruitless because the method of staging them has little influence upon the final effect. Most numerous among these scenes are those devoted to plotting, singing, word-play, commentary upon character or situation, railing against another, and pleading. Scenes of mocking and loving follow closely behind these.

Among these scenes are some of the greatest expressions of Shakespeare’s dramatic powers. For example, there are twenty pleading episodes in Shakespeare’s Globe plays. This score includes Portia’s plea to Brutus for confidence (_Julius Caesar_, II, i), Isabella’s plea to Angelo for Claudio’s life (_Measure for Measure_, II, ii), and perhaps the finest example of all, Volumnia’s plea to Coriolanus for Rome’s salvation (V, iii). But few of these derive their powers from elements of staging. Where they are located on-stage does not matter much, for they create an environment of their own. Yet scenes such as these need dimension. If the actors kneel and plead, they need scope to do so. That is why it is hazardous to depart from the conditions of the open platform in reconstructing the staging.

The handling of entrance and exit and the representation of the conventional devices and scenes provide the framework of the staging. Interwoven and interpolated are those scenes which rely not on formal presentation but on spontaneous action. These are the scenes which, through the intensity of their poetic conception, the penetration of their observation, or the keenness of their wit, illuminate the stage. But no sharp distinction exists between the conventional device and the spontaneous action. They both spring from the need to sustain and perfect an extended narrative.

V. THE STAGING OF THE FINALES

The art of staging in the Elizabethan theater reaches its culmination in the ritualistic finale which usually brings the narrative to a close. The dramatic nature of the finale has been fully discussed in Chapter Two. Its theatrical execution may fittingly conclude this chapter.

Most of the finales depict a sequence of action foreknown to the audience but not to the figure or figures central to the action. This fact contributes greatly to the ritualistic impression of the finale. Thematically, the finale completes the process of rendering judgment and rewarding faithfulness or love. This process is elaborately and meticulously worked out so that all possible complications of the narrative are unraveled.

Theatrically, it is accomplished in one of two ways. The final “mystery” is solved with the ranking person usually directing the process (_All’s Well_, _Twelfth Night_, _Measure for Measure_), or a final conflict takes place between a figure rendering judgment, a champion, as in _Lear_, and a figure receiving judgment. Thus, pictorially, there can be one of three centers of focus: the judge, the combat, the revealed mystery. In some cases the rendering of judgment is effected by the central character upon himself, as in _Julius Caesar_, _Antony and Cleopatra_, and _Othello_. Othello, who has been touched by Christian morality, is conscious of rendering self-judgment. Brutus and Cleopatra, instead, commit suicide in the high Roman fashion.

About two-thirds of the finales begin with only one or two characters on stage who set the conditions for the finale (_Antony and Cleopatra_, _Twelfth Night_, _The Merry Wives of Windsor_, _Othello_, and so on). Once the basic premises are assured, the essential action takes place. In _Twelfth Night_ it centers about the contradictory accusations against Viola. In _Julius Caesar_ and _Antony and Cleopatra_, Brutus and Cleopatra probe the necessity for death and direct the preparations for suicide, the latter more elaborately than the former, of course. The finales of _Measure for Measure_ and _All’s Well_ follow a similar pattern: a ruler seeks the answer to a mystery by holding a hearing.

All concluding dramatic situations have a courtly or martial formality, except for the finales of _Merry Wives_, _Othello_, and _Troilus and Cressida_. The finales of _Hamlet_, _All’s Well_, _Measure for Measure_, _As You Like It_, _Twelfth Night_, and _Antony and Cleopatra_ reveal a courtly formality of one sort or another. In these scenes the subordinate figures are grouped in relation to the sovereign. This fact alone favors symmetrical balance in the design. For example, the King in _All’s Well_, after first welcoming Bertram, is prompted by seeing Helen’s ring on his finger to question the manner of her death. All action is related to the King. Probably standing at center, he receives and dismisses Bertram from one door and receives Diana from the other. In _Hamlet_, the duel is the focal action of the scene. The placement of the King and Queen, however, dictates the grouping of the court. The stage directions specify that a table with flagons of wine upon it is brought in (_Hamlet_, V, ii, 235f.). The stage direction in the Quarto of 1604 calls for “cushions” which may have been placed on the stools (Sig. N3^v). But apparently no state is introduced. Therefore, the King and Queen probably stand or possibly sit in the center, well enough downstage to be easily seen, the duelists fight before them, and the court is grouped behind them. Until the entrance of Fortinbras, the only speakers are the King, Queen, Hamlet, Laertes, Osric, and, briefly, Horatio, who speaks once when Hamlet is wounded and once when Hamlet is dying. Even this résumé does not convey any idea of the actual sequence of the speeches. No more than two or three people speak in any one part of the scene. The members of the court, placed at the sides and the rear of the stage, are called upon only once to cry “Treason, treason.” Otherwise they are virtually ignored. Earlier in this chapter I outlined the finale of _As You Like It_ in the same way, to show the division of the scene into episodes of twos and threes. To formalize the grouping, Shakespeare introduced Duke Senior into all the episodes, thus using him as a point of reference.

Where martial conditions prevail at the conclusion, the grouping is governed by the presence of the triumphant general or prince. Malcolm, hailed as King of Scotland, is ringed about by his thanes. At first Alcibiades is engaged in a parley with the Athenian Senators, but when they leave the walls, he is left completely alone. In _Julius Caesar_ the opposite happens, for the defeated leader is the center of interest. One by one, Brutus approaches the remnants of his supporters, who are ranged about him, to persuade one of them to slay him. Finally, the last man gratifies his wish. Even when the conquering generals enter, his body remains the center of attention, thanks to Antony’s eulogy.

_Merry Wives_ and _Othello_, having neither courtly nor martial finales, rely on a different kind of focal point. In the former play, the place where Falstaff, the object of ridicule, hides from the “Fairies,” determines the design of the scene. In _Othello_, the location of Desdemona’s bed initially dictates the arrangement of the scene. But when the final truth is known and Iago is arrested, Lodovico supersedes the bed as the keystone of the grouping although Othello naturally remains the figure of greatest interest. This shift of focus from one center to another during the scene and the succeeding diffusion of focus near the end, make staging the finale of _Othello_ upon the Globe stage extremely difficult. Constant reference to the bed early in the scene requires the actors to turn toward the rear of the stage, even if the bed is thrust out. The text demands that Othello, Emilia, and Gratiano, at the very least, relate themselves to the deathbed for considerable periods of time. This kind of finale is peculiar to _Othello_, lacking as it does a constant focal point and formal grouping. The explanation may be that the extant texts, Folio and Quarto, embody the version played upon a shallow stage at Blackfriars. Mounted upon such a stage rather than upon the deep stage of the Globe, the finale could be more effectively presented.

The grouping, as I have shown, usually depends upon the placement of the sovereign or triumphant figure. The progress of the finale, however, is controlled in large measure by the degree and kind of activity in which the ranking figure (or figures) engages. In _As You Like It_ Duke Senior, being passive, is more a point to which the action relates than a figure who directs the action. Orsino and Olivia in _Twelfth Night_ jointly direct the uncovering of the mystery by calling upon others to act rather than by acting themselves. The focus thus lies between them. In contrast, the Duke in _Measure for Measure_ not only serves as the center of attention but also acts as the central force in bringing the “mystery” of the action to light. _Lear_ reveals an interesting finale which shifts the centers of interest from the single combat of Edmund and Edgar, first to the display of the bodies of Goneril and Regan, and then to the entrance and death of Lear. But throughout these orderly shifts of attention the ranking figure, the Duke of Albany, functions effectively but unobtrusively. It is he who questions Edgar, orders the disposal of the bodies of the evil sisters, directs the burial of Lear, and speaks the final words.[21] Although himself never of central interest, his presence at the center of the action is necessary to the unity of the finale.

The last factor that influences the staging of the finale is the introduction of a resolving figure, found in many of the plays. He may be either of critical or of supplementary importance to the completion of the action. It is his presence which unravels the mystery. Sebastian is the resolving figure in _Twelfth Night_. His entrance unties all the knots at once. However, because _Twelfth Night_ contains a double plot, Fabian is needed to explain the trick played upon Malvolio, thus serving as a supplementary resolving figure. Similarly, Edgar and Lear are resolving figures for their respective plots. Further illustrations include the Duke in _Measure for Measure_ and Helen in _All’s Well_. For a spectacular effect, Shakespeare introduces Hymen as a resolving figure in _As You Like It_. His words to the assembled lovers could very well speak for all the resolving figures.

Peace ho! I bar confusion.
’Tis I must make conclusion
Of these most strange events.
[V, iv, 131-133]

It is interesting to see that instead of relying upon the enclosure curtain to effect a sudden discovery, Shakespeare introduced an allegorical figure to make the revelation of Rosalind theatrical. The revelation, therefore, had to be processional, with Hymen acting as marshal. Virtually the same pattern occurs in the finale of _All’s Well_ where the widow leads in Helen. Under special circumstances, a discovery can be made without using the stage curtain. Enveloped in his friar’s hood, the Duke in _Measure for Measure_, as his own resolving figure, can enter undetected. Lucio, by plucking off the friar’s hood, accomplishes a sudden discovery.

Ranking figures may also serve as minor resolving figures. Such characters as Fortinbras in _Hamlet_, Caesar in _Antony and Cleopatra_, and Antony in _Julius Caesar_ bring events to a close by delivering a eulogy over the fallen hero. Their entrances are processional; their departures are dead marches, in which the body or bodies of the slain are carried off. Another group of minor resolving figures are those entering with information necessary to the disentanglement of the complete narrative. Fabian, as I have shown, is one of these. So also is Fenton in _Merry Wives_ and the soldier in _Timon of Athens_.

The entryway through which the major resolving figures come is crucial to the staging. For this the plays provide no satisfactory clues. Diana’s lines which precede the revelation that Helen lives could easily imply a discovery.

He [Bertram] knows himself my bed he hath defil’d,
And at that time he got his wife with child.
Dead though she be, she feels her young one kick.
So there’s my riddle: one that’s dead is quick--
And now behold the meaning.
Enter Helen and Widow.
KING. Is there no exorcist
Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes?
[V, iii, 301-306]

Similar situations occur in _As You Like It_ and _Twelfth Night_. In _As You Like It_ the revelation is heralded by music which suggests a processional entrance. In _Twelfth Night_ Sebastian follows Toby on stage in order to justify his treatment of Toby. These scenes by analogy indicate the unlikelihood that Helen was discovered by the drawing of the curtain of the enclosure. Yet in all these scenes the resolving figures must enter prominently, for upon their entrance they occupy the center of attention. I suggest, therefore, that to achieve maximum effect and to preserve symmetry, these entrances were made through the curtain at the rear of the stage.

Throughout this chapter I have stressed dramatic factors usually ignored, and minimized factors usually stressed. The theory of staging which emerges, therefore, departs in some ways from the views generally accepted. I have emphasized that, in re-creating Globe stage practices, we must be cautious:

(1) Not to reconstruct staging only in terms of settings;

(2) Not to disregard or underestimate the vital role that the entrances and exits played in the artistic organization of the productions;

(3) Not to neglect the inclination of the Globe company towards uniformity in staging;

(4) Not to overvalue the necessity or even the desirability of novelty in staging;

(5) Not to underestimate the ability of the Elizabethan narrative to shape its own principles of staging;

(6) Not to assume that staging at the Globe occupied as crucial a role in rehearsing and performing a play as it does, aesthetically and organizationally, in the theater today.

Chapter Six

THE STYLE

The conclusions which I have drawn in this essay apply only to production at the Globe playhouse from 1599 to 1609. From them it is clear that the staging of the plays was influenced less by the structure of the stage than we have hitherto thought. When William Poel undertook to demonstrate how a knowledge of the use of an Elizabethan stage is conducive to a proper appreciation of Elizabethan plays, he embarked upon a necessary and salutary crusade. Almost every recent Shakespearean production attests to its success. However, the effect of his campaign has led to an overemphasis upon the importance of Elizabethan stage structure to production. Such studies as those of V. E. Albright, J. C. Adams, G. F. Reynolds, and Ronald Watkins are based on the assumption that the stage structure and its machinery played the decisive role in the presentation of an Elizabethan drama. This premise is not supported by the evidence. Certainly the basic form of the stage affected both the structure of the plays and the manner in which they were produced. The large platform and formal façade determined the fundamental conditions of production. But the actual production of a drama relied upon specific parts of this stage much less than we have thought. Style in staging was inherent in the dramatic form, not the stage structure.

The style of acting at the Globe played as much a part in the shaping of production as the stage structure itself. But Elizabethan acting lacked both the histrionic traditions and the fertile conditions for the development of a self-perpetuating style. Instead, the actor, endowed with a keen tongue, an agile body, and most of all, a passionate heart, fitted his skills and talents to the needs of the plays. Unlike the _commedia_ actors or the naturalistic actors of the Stanislavsky school, the Elizabethan actor did not impose a mode of presentation upon the individual scripts. This fact in no way reduces his importance to the production; it merely means that his style of playing was derived from the drama. Although the actors employed the playwrights, they did not dictate the kind of roles which were to be provided.

All factors of production, of course, were modified by the exigencies of the repertory system. Simplicity and recurrence in staging were direct results of such a system. It demanded flexibility from the actors and from the stage. Because of the practice of doubling in most plays, and the daily change of bill, the system prevented the development of special “lines.” Altogether the strenuous demands it made upon the actors encouraged individual brilliance and bold strokes but discouraged intricately designed spectacle, ensemble playing, or extensive rehearsal.

Subject to the conditions of the repertory system, the script played the dominant part in shaping the style of production. Naturally the form of the script harmonized with the structure of the stage and the manner of acting. The platform stage encouraged the growth of a panoramic narrative form of drama. The actor’s rhetorical and poetical skill, and his freedom of emotional release enabled the author to provide him with speeches of swelling passion. But it was the script which united these elements into a harmonious theatrical style.

This style, within certain limits, was realistic, not because of the subject matter of the narrative but because of the many opportunities that it offered for the description and portrayal of passion and thought. True, the framework of the passion and thought was conventional, but the conventionality had its source, for the most part, in the ceremony of Elizabethan life, which was artificial only in the Elizabethan sense of having art. Within this conventional framework, which facilitated narration as well as imparted form to the acting and staging, there operated a spontaneous, lyrical, and intensely emotionalized reality. A conventional framework, however, must not be equated with a symbolic method.

Recent scholarship has looked with increasing favor upon George Reynolds’ contention that Elizabethan staging was fundamentally symbolic. Kernodle has shown how symbolism functioned in medieval art and continental staging but has been less successful in showing its presence upon the English stage. Both scholars have pointed out individual instances of symbolic staging during the Globe period, but neither of them has demonstrated the consistent use of symbolism throughout a number of plays or an entire production. Nor is there evidence that a pattern of symbolism pervaded the action of the Globe plays. It is significant that few of the properties which we know were used at that playhouse reveal a symbolic purpose. For the most part they are utilitarian. Those properties which are most readily suited to symbolism, such as trees, have no certain representatives at the Globe playhouse. Although I have pointed out several instances where symbolic staging was or may have been introduced at the Globe, its occasional appearance did not establish the over-all style.

This style is chiefly characterized by its reconciliation of the contradictory demands of convention and reality. The two forces were maintained in delicate balance through the poetic vision of the playwrights, most completely by Shakespeare, to a lesser extent by his contemporaries. To call this style realism leads us to confuse it with the realism of modern drama. To call this style symbolism, even though it avails itself of symbols to a limited extent, leads us astray. Perhaps it is necessary to reflect the dual nature of the style in a compound term. For the conventional framework, the adjective “ceremonial” is appropriate. For the passion which lies within the conventional framework and which even permeates its interstices, the adjective “romantic” is appropriate. For the scope of the theme and the elevation of the tone, the adjective “epic” is appropriate. Thus, the style of production at the Globe playhouse may be defined as at once, ceremonial, romantic, and epic.