The fact that one end of the conversation is omitted, or only echoed, concentrates our attention upon the workings of Mrs. Caudle’s mind. The interpreter must vividly portray the arrival of every idea, the horrors with which she contemplates every successive conjecture.
The reader must express Mrs. Caudle’s astonishment after she has found out Mr. Caudle’s offence. “‘What were you to do?’” is no doubt an echo of the question made by Mr. Caudle. Sarcastic surprise possesses her at the very thought of his asking such a question. “Let him go home in the rain, to be sure,” is given with positiveness, as if it settled the whole matter. “Take cold, indeed!” is also, no doubt, a sarcastic echo of Mr. Caudle’s words. The abrupt explosion and extreme change from the preceding indicates clearly her repetition of Mr. Caudle’s words. The pun: “He’d have better taken cold than taken our umbrella,” may sound like a jest, but with Mrs. Caudle it is too sarcastic for a smile.
Mrs. Caudle must “hear the rain” and appear startled. The thought of the following day causes sudden and extreme change of feeling, face, and voice. Her wrath is aroused to a high pitch when Caudle snores or gives some evidence that he is asleep, and she is most abrupt and bitter in: “Nonsense; you don’t impose upon me; you can’t be asleep with such a shower as that.” She repeats her question with emphasis. Then there must have been some groan or assent from poor Caudle, which is shown by a change of pitch and a sarcastic acceptance of his answer, “Oh, you do hear it!” Presently, Mr. Caudle causes another explosion by evidently suggesting that the borrower would return the umbrella, “as if anybody ever did return an umbrella!”
A dramatic imagination can easily realize the continuity of thought in Mrs. Caudle’s mind, her expression of profound grief over the poor children, the sudden thought of “poor mother” that awakens in her the reason for his doing the terrible deed, and her self-pity. Every change must be expressed decidedly, to show the working of her mind.
Such a monologue is decidedly dramatic, and to interpret it requires vivid imagination, quick perceptions, a realization of the relation of a specific type of character to a distinct situation and the interaction of situation and character upon each other. The interpreter must have a very flexible voice and responsive body. He must have command of the technique of expression and be able to suggest depth of meaning.
It is easy enough to study a monologue superficially, and find its meaning for ourselves in a vague way, sufficient to satisfy us for the moment, but there is necessity for more study when we attempt to make the monologue clear and forcible to others.
The interpreter will discover, when he tries to read the monologue aloud, that his subjective studies were crude and inconclusive. He will find difficulties in most unexpected places; but as he contemplates the work with dramatic instinct, or imaginative and sympathetic attention to each point, new light will dawn upon him. There is need always for great power of accentuation. Discoveries should be sudden, and the connections vigorously sustained. The modulations of the voice must often be extreme, while yet suggesting the utmost naturalness.
The length and abruptness of the inflections must change very suddenly. There must be breaks in the thought, with a startled discovery of many points, and extreme changes in pitch to show these. Some parts should go very slowly, while others should have great quickness of movement.
Any serious monologue will serve to illustrate the necessity of vocal expression for its interpretation. Take, for example, Browning’s “Tray,” and express the strong contrasts by the voice.
TRAY