The struggle for an idea must be frankly disclosed. An interruption, a thought broken on account of a sudden leap of the mind, must be interpreted faithfully by the eyes, the face, the walk, or the body, in union with vocal expression.
In the soliloquy of the “Spanish Cloister” (p. [58]), for example, notice how the whole face, head, and body of the speaker recoil at the very start on discovering Brother Lawrence in the garden. Notice, too, the fiendish delight as he sees the accident, “There his lily snaps!” How sarcastic is his reference to the actions of Brother Lawrence, who, unconscious that any one is looking at him, seems to stop and shake his head in a way that leads the speaker to infer that a “myrtle-bush wants trimming:” but instantly, with a sneer he adds, “Oh, that rose has prior claims.” Such sarcastic variations occur all through the monologue. “How go on your flowers?” is given with gleeful expectancy, and he notes with cruel joy the disappointment of Brother Lawrence when looking to find one “double,” and chuckles to himself
“Strange!—And I, too, at such trouble,
Keep them close-nipped on the sly!”
Note, too, the difference in facial action when the speaker is observing Brother Lawrence and when conjuring up schemes to send this good man “Off to hell, a Manichee.”
Another point to be noted in the study of the monologue is the giving of quotations. These, of course, are an echo of what the hearer has said, and must be rendered with care.
Look again at Browning’s “A Tale,” and note “cicada,” which is quoted. This is followed by an interrogation, and refers to the listener’s humorously sarcastic question regarding the scientific aspects of her subject. She echoes it, of course, with her own feeling of surprise, and the exclamation “Pooh!” silences him so that she may go on with her story. Notice how necessary action is here to enable the reader to interpret the meaning of this to the audience.
Quotations especially call for action as they reflect the opposition of the character of the listener to that of the speaker; they are always given with decided changes. The words only, however, and at times the ideas only, are quoted; the feeling, the impression, are all the speaker’s own. Quotations are merely the conversational echo of the words of another such as are frequently heard in every-day life, and demand both action and vocal expression for their true interpretation.
The subject of quotations requires special attention in the monologue. They must be given, not only with decided pauses, inflections, changes of movement and variations in accentuation, and in all the modulations of the voice, but with suggestive action, changes in the direction of the eye, head, and body. In short, there must be a complete change in all the expression from what preceded, because the impression produced by an idea in the speaker’s own mind is not so forcible as the effect of a word from a listener; at any rate, the impression is different. In telling our story to him, his attitude of mind, in demurring or assenting, will cause a sudden change or recoil on our part. The difference in the impressions made upon the speaker by his own ideas and by what his listener says must be indicated, and this can only be indicated by uniting the language of action and vocal expression with words. A change of idea or some remembrance awakened in our own mind comes naturally, but a sudden remark or interruption produces a more decided and definite impression upon us. The surprised look and abrupt turn of the head are necessary to show the sense of imaginative reality.
Observe the definite and extreme, even sudden, transitions which are made in conversation. These abrupt leaps of the mind from one subject to another are indicated by a simple turn, it may be, of the head, with sudden changes in the face, and, of course, with changes of pitch and movement. The monologue gives the best interpretation of these actions of the mind to be found in literature.
As an example, note Riley’s “Knee-deep in June.” The more decided and sudden the transitions in this poem, the better. The abrupt arrival of an idea, the subtle start it gives to face or head or body, should be naturally suggested.