| ORIGINAL | REVISION |
| Mrs. Erlynne. (C.) How do
you do, again, Lord Windermere?
How charming your sweet wife
looks! Quite a picture! Lord Windermere. (In a low voice.) It was terribly rash of you to come! Mrs. Erlynne. (Smiling.) The wisest thing I ever did in my life. And, by the way, you must pay me a good deal of attention this evening.[61] | Mrs. Erlynne. (C.) How do
you do, again, Lord Windermere? Lord Windermere. (In a low voice.) It was terribly rash of you to come! Mrs. Erlynne. (Smiling.) The wisest thing I ever did in How charming your sweet wife looks! Quite a picture! And, by the way, you must pay me a good deal of attention this evening. |
Often dialogue which is clear sentence by sentence is, as a whole, somewhat confusing to an audience. Frequently a careful re-ordering of the parts of the speech, or of a group of speeches, will dispose of the trouble. Occasionally a playwright allows his ordering of his ideas to obscure the cue, or important idea. Undoubtedly the important word in what follows is “christenings,” but Chasuble runs on into various other matters before Jack speaks. Consequently a hearer is a little startled when Jack takes up the idea of christenings instead of anything following it.
Chasuble. In Paris! (Shakes his head.) I fear that hardly points to any very serious state of mind at the last. You would no doubt wish me to make some slight allusion to this tragic domestic affliction next Sunday. (Jack presses his hand convulsively.) My sermon on the meaning of the manna in the wilderness can be adapted to almost any occasion, joyful, or, as in the present case, distressing. (All sigh.) I have preached it at harvest celebrations, christenings, confirmations, on days of humiliation and festal days. The last time I delivered it was in the Cathedral, as a charity sermon on behalf of the Society for the Prevention of Discontent among the Upper Orders. The Bishop, who was present, was much struck by some of the analogies I drew.
Jack. Ah! That reminds me, you mentioned christenings I think, Dr. Chasuble? I suppose you know how to christen all right? (Dr. Chasuble looks astounded.) I mean, of course, you are continually christening, aren’t you?[62]
It is true that the last part of Chasuble’s speech illustrates his volubility, and that the way in which Jack picks up the idea, “christening,” shows that he is so absorbed in his purpose as to pay no attention to anything Chasuble says after “christenings.” Here, therefore, the method is probably justified, but ordinarily the end of one speech leads into the next, and when something which breaks the sequence stands between, it must prove its right to be there, or be postponed for later treatment, or be cut out altogether. What re-ordering will do for a dialogue which is uninteresting and somewhat confused was shown in the revising of the extract from the John Brown play (pp. 309-313). There is a brilliant instance, in Miss Anglin’s version of Lady Windermere’s Fan, of re-ordering such that a climax of interest develops from groups of somewhat independent sentences.
| ORIGINAL | REVISION |
| Lady Plymdale. My dear woman your husband has been
dancing with! I should be quite jealous if I were you! Is she a
great friend of yours? Lady Windermere. No. Lady Plymdale. Really? Good night, dear. (Looks at Mr. Dumby, and exit.) Dumby. Awful manners young Cecil Graham. Ah! Hopper is one of Nature’s gentlemen, the worst type of gentleman I know. Dumby. Sensible woman, Lady Windermere. Lots of wives would have objected to Mrs. Erlynne coming. But Lady Windermere has that uncommon thing called common sense. Cecil Graham. And Windermere knows that nothing looks so like innocence as an indiscretion. Dumby. Yes; dear Windermere is becoming almost modern. Never thought he would. (Bows to Lady Windermere and exit.) Lady Jedburgh. Good night, Lady Windermere. What a fascinating woman Mrs. Erlynne is! She is coming to lunch on Thursday. Won't you come too? I expect the Bishop and dear Lady Merton. Lady Windermere. I am afraid I am engaged, Lady Jedburgh. Lady Jedburgh. So sorry. Come, dear. (Exeunt Lady Jedburgh and Miss Graham.) Enter Mrs. Erlynne and Lord Windermere. Mrs. Erlynne. Charming ball it has been! Quite reminds me of old days. (Sits on the sofa.)[63] | Dumby. Awful manners young Hopper has! Cecil Graham. Ah! Hopper is one of Nature’s gentlemen, the worst type of gentleman I know. Lady Jedburgh. What a fascinating woman Mrs. Erlynne is! She is coming to lunch on Thursday, won’t you come too? I expect the Bishop and dear Lady Merton. Lady Windermere. I am afraid I am engaged, Lady Jedburgh. Lady Jedburgh. So sorry. Good night. Come, dear. (Exeunt Lady Jedburgh and Miss Graham.) Dumby. Sensible woman, Lady Windermere. Lots of wives would have objected to Mrs. Erlynne coming. But Lady Windermere has that uncommon thing called common sense. Cecil Graham. And Windermere knows that nothing looks so like innocence as an indiscretion. Dumby. Yes; dear Windermere is becoming almost modern. Never thought he would. Lady Plymdale. Dumby! (Dumby bows to Lady Windermere and exit.) Lady Plymdale. My dear Margaret, what a fascinating woman your husband has been dancing with! I should be quite jealous if I were you! Is she a great friend of yours? Lady Windermere. No! Lady Plymdale. Really? Good night, dear. (Lady Plymdale exits.) Enter Mrs. Erlynne and Lord Windermere. Mrs. Erlynne. Charming ball it has been! Quite reminds me of old days. (Sits on the sofa.) |
Dialogue may be both clear and characterizing yet fail because it is difficult to speak. Too many writers, as has been said, do not hear their words but see them. Could any one who heard his words have penned the lines, “She says she’s sure she’ll have a shock if she sees him.” That time “apt alliteration” was so artful that, setting her trap, she caught a dramatist. Here is the amusing comment of a critic on an author’s protest that her lines have been misquoted and made to sound difficult to deliver:
In the review of the——Theatre’s opening bill there occurred a line purporting to come from Miss Blank’s psychic play, The Turtle. Miss Blank writes, “The line, which was either incorrectly spoken or heard, was not, ‘How does one know one is one’s self?’ but ‘How is one to know which is one’s real self when one feels so different with different people?’” Naturally the reviewer of a play is as open to mistakes in noting down lines as the actor is in speaking them, particularly if the author is much given to the “one-one-one” style of construction. If, however, Miss Blank prefers her own version of the sentence, she is welcome to it.
Of course each writer is perfectly sure that his own ear will keep him from errors of this kind, but even the greatest err. Did Shakespeare write the opening lines of Measure For Measure, he the master of exquisitely musical and perfectly chosen dramatic speech? Some scholars believe he did. If so, in that second speech of the Duke which wearies the jaws and tempts to every kind of slurring, Jove certainly nodded.