Throughout the Shakespearean Globe plays instances of this sort can be found, not only in the arrangement of the actors but also in the writing of the scenes. An extended example of verbal symmetry occurs in As You Like It, where Rosalind vows to marry Phebe if she marries any woman (IV, ii, 90-118). Often these symmetrical arrangements are taken for granted because they seem dramatic and do not disturb the flow of narrative. Yet occasionally we can discern dramatic logic sacrificed for symmetrical arrangement. This “failing” can be more graphically observed in the buildings of the period and, therefore, I digress for a moment. A feature of the great houses built as show places during the Tudor age was the adherence to symmetrically balanced design. Usually a central structure would be flanked by more or less elaborately developed ells or wings, as at Wollaton Hall, Hatfield House, Charlton House, or Hardwick Hall. The main hall was in the center, naturally, and the quarters of the noblemen were in one wing. In the other wing the buttery, scullery, or otherwise menial part of the household was located. In both Wollaton and Hardwick Halls, the kitchen or scullery occupies the front chamber of only one wing to balance the opposite lordly wing.[2] From a functional point of view in planning, the symmetrical arrangement did not satisfy the living accommodations of the Tudor household. But from a visual point of view, it represented a dignity and order that relatively unsophisticated builders could create. Despite the obvious waste in space, the visual need determined the structural design.
This tendency can be observed on the stage. I have already cited the scene in Twelfth Night, when Malvolio “returns” Olivia’s ring to Viola. Olivia had sent him to run after the “peevish” boy to tell him that she would not take “his” ring (I, v, 318-323). We should suppose that, in order to catch the boy, Malvolio would have followed Viola on the stage. Yet the stage direction clearly specifies that they enter “severally,” that is, from opposite sides of the stage. The entrance is symmetrical but not logical.
The general thesis for symmetrical staging that I have advanced must be qualified in two respects. First, the reliance upon symmetrical arrangement was probably stronger in the earlier than in the later period. The plays themselves change from a more formal, balanced arrangement of speeches to a more colloquial, asymmetrical arrangement. The balanced dirges of the various queens in Richard III (IV, iv) and the measured laments of Blanch in King John (III, i, 326 ff.) begin to disappear. However, they do not wholly vanish during the Globe period.
Secondly, the principles of composition may not be readily perceived in scenes involving only a few characters. Therefore, in the Globe plays symmetry as an element of staging can be best studied in group scenes, for it is a simple way to arrange groups of actors. The nature of Elizabethan dramatic material made simple balance not only the most feasible but also the most meaningful method of composition.
II. STAGE GROUPING AT THE GLOBE PLAYHOUSE
In considering grouping on the Elizabethan stage, we should keep in mind the basic conditions of production. During its periods of rehearsal the Globe company was actively engaged in daily performance. Within two weeks customarily, the actors had to learn extensive parts and mount a multiscene play. In a certain proportion of these scenes many characters appeared on stage. Once presented the play was not repeated for some days. Furthermore, the stage on which the actors played had poor sightlines. The only area from which they could be seen by virtually all members of the audience was at the center of the platform in front of the pillars, at the very place where DeWitt’s Swan drawing shows a scene in progress.
Although most scenes in the Shakespearean Globe plays require five people or less on the stage at any one time, there are still quite a number of scenes or sections of scenes in which more than five people appear. In the fifteen plays of Shakespeare in the Globe repertory, I count one hundred and sixty-six such scenes or episodes, or an average of more than ten in each play. The lowest proportion is 14 per cent in Twelfth Night, the highest 61 per cent in Coriolanus. Generally 20 to 30 per cent of a play consists of what I term “group” scenes or episodes.[3]
In terms of the problems of staging, these group scenes fall into four distinct categories. More than half of the group scenes, eighty-eight, fall into category one. These are scenes in which though there are actually five or fewer speaking characters on the stage, the addition of one or more mute supernumeraries increases the size of the group to six or more Almost all of these mute supers fall into one of several distinct generic types, easily recognizable and probably conventionally portrayed. The most frequently recurring types are soldiers in thirty scenes; attendants and servants in twenty-three scenes; and noblemen of one sort or another in twenty-one scenes. A small but important type consists of the crowds in Julius Caesar and Coriolanus. The rest of the supers come from various miscellaneous classes, such as ladies, musicians, sailors, and so on. It is probable that the stock-in-trade of the hired men and gatherers was a standardized portrayal of such types. Problems in grouping must have been solved as readily. The prevailing types, soldiers, attendants, and noblemen, contain in their ranks and duties the rationale for their positions upon the stage. Implied in the relationship of servant to master or nobleman to king is an attitude of service expressed in a characteristic manner. That this pattern was representative of Globe plays as a whole is borne out by the examination of the non-Shakespearean and non-Jonsonian plays in the Globe repertory. Although in proportion there are fewer group scenes in the non-Shakespearean plays than in the Shakespearean, in the separation into types of group scenes, the same divisions are evident.
A second category consists of group scenes which require more than five actors with speaking roles on-stage at one time. This numbers twenty-two. However, though there are more than five characters on-stage, no more than five of them are active. In effect, the others become mute observers, functioning much as the nobleman, soldier, or attendant type. For example, in the debate upon Grecian policy in Troilus and Cressida, Act I, scene iii, 1-212, three people speak: Agamemnon, Nestor, and Ulysses. During the utterance of these 212 lines neither Diomedes nor Menelaus speaks, although they are present throughout. In this scene they are mere supers. Donalbain is on-stage throughout Macbeth, Act I, scenes ii and iv, but he does not speak. He, too, functions as a mute nobleman. Once Lear faces Goneril and Regan before Gloucester’s castle (II, iv, 129-298), Kent and the Fool, who have been prominent hitherto, drop into the background as mute attendants. This practice, not of subordinating characters but of reducing them to ciphers, facilitated the handling of large groups of characters. That this was the technique of the poet is evident when one considers those scenes where characters, who have every reason to be active, fail to respond to events in which they are immediately involved. When the Duke reveals to Isabella the brother whom she thought dead (Measure for Measure, V, i, 495-498), we might expect Isabella to say something, but she does not. Or when Cleopatra beats the messenger who brings the report of Antony’s marriage to Octavia (II, v), we might expect the otherwise talkative Iras or Alexas to say something, but Charmian alone intervenes. In that scene the others play mute supers.