William Shakespeare, The Tragedie of Anthonie, and Cleopatra, Appendix
Horace Howard Furness, Ed.

Godwin

“ In the tragedy before us we have no less than thirty-six scenes. Of these, twenty-five are architectural, including the one on board Pompey's galley, which belongs to naval architecture. The other twenty-four are divided between Alexandria, Rome, Messina, and Athens, or the respective residences of Kleopatra, Cæsar, Pompeius, and Antonius, but by far the most important of these are those which belong to the City of the Ptolemies. It is next to impossible to reduce this play to set scenes, for the unities of time and place are quite disregarded by the author. In the first and last Acts a very slight change would enable us to bring these into two scenes, if the fourth Scene of the first Act were carried on to the second Act and the first Scene of the fifth Act omitted, but the second Act carries us in seven Scenes from Pompey's house at Messina to the house of Lepidus at Rome, thence into Cæsar's palace, thence into the streets of Rome, thence to the palace at Alexandria, thence to Misenum, and finally leaves us floating on the sea. In the third Act (eleven Scenes) we are in Alexandria, Rome, and Athens; now on the plains of Syria, and now on the promontory of Actium. In the fourth Act of thirteen Scenes we are certainly confined to Alexandria and its neighbourhood, but we are perpetually moved about from the inside of the palace to the outside, from within to without the walls, from one camp to the other, until we are brought to rest in that remarkable Scene— ‘the Monument.’ I see no reason why the Scene in the house of Lepidus (Act ii., Scene 2) should not be laid in a lesche or under a colonnade before Cæsar's house, and thus serve also for the two Scenes which follow it. Indeed, by the exercise of some little thought and care, the whole number of the architectural Scenes may be fairly reduced, and it is possible without serious mutilation to prevent some of the abrupt changes, as for example that brought about by the introduction of Alexandria in the fifth Scene of the second Act; for there does not exist, as it seems to me, any great obstacle to this Scene forming part of the third in the third Act. I cannot at present see that we can do with less architectural scenery than that set down in the following list, unless the Scenes at Athens and Messina are omitted altogether:

1. 1. The palace at Alexandria—interior.
2. 2. A Monument at Alexandria.
3. 3. Cæsar's house at Rome—a lesche or colonnade.
4. 4. Antony's house at Athens—interior.
5. 5. Pompey's house at Messina—interior.

Of the interior of Kleopatra's palace the play presents us with no less than twelve Scenes, and with one laid outside or before the palace (Act IV, Sc. iii), but all thirteen could reasonably pass in one hall if attention were given to the planning of it. The remains of the temples at Philæ, Dendera, and Kalabsche, the relic of the palace at Medinet Habou, and the representations of domestic architecture in the fragments of wall paintings in our museums, are the only authorities available for this important Scene. The temples and palace, however, that I have just mentioned must be held to be far inferior to the temples and palaces of the royal city. . . .

The evidence of material wealth—a splendour lavish as daylight—would be there [Alexandria]. Whatever marble and basalt, porphyry and serpentine, bronze or silver, or gold or any other precious material could do, we may be quite sure was not lacking. Mechanics would shine like the sun, in construction; multitudes of pillars, and miles of avenue, and corridor, and labyrinth would speak of the mighty mass of labour in the service of Egypt. . . .

The ‘Monument’ of the play is evidently nothing more than the raised stage at the back of the main stage, so common in the theatres of Shakespeare's time. An Egyptian monument or tomb was constructed on principles which could not possibly admit the poet's idea. But the Greek monument was altogether different. In the one case we find a tomb, an architectural grave, a sepulchre; in the other we have a house, a shrine, a temple. The little memorial of Lysicrates at Athens, and the temple-like Lycian monument discovered at Xanthus, and now in our National Museum, are extreme illustrations of one principle of design. In both the structure consists of two storeys: the ground storey solid and comparatively plain, the upper storey open and enriched with columns, figure sculpture, and other ornamental accessories. Now, although acting on a higher platform than the stage is always made to look more or less ridiculous by modern scenic arrangements, in proof of which assertion I may cite Juliet's balcony as a flagrant example, and although I know of no instance where this division of stage level has been well carried out, yet even in the Veronese and Venetian plays there is no room for reasonable excuse if the Scene results in failure; still less in the play under consideration should the acting suffer, inasmuch as the area of the Monument of Egypt's Queen may be of almost any size.

Antony's house at Athens might be one of the old Greek houses or palaces, with its double arrangement of Andronitis and Gynæconitis, or the men's and women's quarters. The fourth and fifth Scenes of the third Act introduce us to two rooms in this house, but there is no reason why one interior should not suffice for both Scenes, if the proper room be selected, which I take it should be the pillared hall (ἀυλή) of the Andronitis, which in a Greek house occupies the place of the Roman Atrium. The floor might be of mosaic, whilst both the ceiling and walls might be painted. Pompey's house at Messina might be either Roman or Greek, or half and half. . . . In Antony and Cleopatra there is not one word about architecture or building, but then we have a description of the Queen's barge.

”

Godwin has the following (op. cit. 26th June, 1875)