[11] Read _The Training of the Imagination_, by James Rhoades; John Lane Publishing Company.

As further material for this study there is no better choice to be made than Tennyson's great quasi-epic, _The Idylls of the King_, from which but for lack of s.p.a.ce we should have printed selections. The following suggestions for work in composition at this point are based on the _Idylls_.

Describe in your own words Camelot.

Write an imaginary scene between Gareth and his mother.

Tell the story of Elaine.

Make the Holy Grail into the form of a miracle play.

FIFTH STUDY

TO DEVELOP DRAMATIC INSTINCT

Our final study in interpretation has for its concern the development of dramatic instinct. The work just finished should have left no doubt in your mind as to the nature or value of this final step in the training, since it has antic.i.p.ated both. Development of imaginative vigor should arouse a latent dramatic instinct and release histrionic power. The choice of place in these studies for this phase of the training was made to insure c.u.mulative evolution resulting in balanced expression. As imagination needs to safeguard her freedom with sympathetic thought and intelligent emotion, so dramatic instinct needs the guidance of a vigorous but trained imagination. Dramatic instinct so directed should achieve skill in interpreting drama and lead to distinction in the art of acting. The immediate evolution should be a clarified vision of life.

Your final attainment from this theory should be distinction in the art of living.

With dramatic instinct capable of such achievement, let us proceed to exercise it in the material chosen for this study,--dramatic literature.

The natural transition from story to play, from narrative to drama, is by way of the monologue. Some discussion with suggestive a.n.a.lysis of this form is necessary in order to impress upon you the difference between suggestive impersonation and actual impersonation or characterization, leading to a clear understanding of the difference between reading a play and acting in one; but the final evolution of interpretative power must come through acted drama,--through taking part in a play.

The dictionary in defining the monologue authorizes three forms: (1) when the actor tells a continuous story in which he is the chief character, referring to the others as absent; (2) when he a.s.sumes the voice or manner of several characters successively; (3) more recently, when he implies that the others are present, leading the audience to imagine what they say by his replies. Browning created this more recent form, which is the most vital of the three. I have chosen for your study of the monologue examples from Browning alone. To interpret effectively any one of the Browning monologues will call into play every element of power in voice and expression which you have gained in your study of previous forms. You must think vividly, feel intelligently, realize and suggest an atmosphere, sustain a situation, and keep the beauty of the poetic form. And you must do all this _in the person of another_. The new demand which the monologue makes is impersonation. Let us see just what we mean by impersonation. It is the art of identifying one's self with the character to be portrayed. It is the art of losing one's self in the character and the situation the dramatist has created. This means that the spirit of the character must take possession of the impersonator, and inform his every thought and feeling, and so his every motion and tone. Remember, it is the _spirit_ of the character that must determine the nature of the tone and gesture. The great danger in entering upon the study of impersonation lies in emphasizing the outward manifestation instead of the inward spirit of the character to be portrayed. If you really sense the soul, mind, heart quality of the character you are to present, and have made your voice and body free agents for the manifestation of those qualities, your impersonation will be convincing. If the spirit of the _Patriot_ or _Andrea del Sarto_ or _Fra Lippo Lippi_ or _Pompilia_ or _Caponsacchi_ or _Guido_ obsesses you, the outward manifestation will take care of itself--always provided your instruments are responsive. Don't begin with the outward manifestation. Don't say I think this man would frown a great deal, or fold his arms over his breast, or use an eyegla.s.s, or strut, or stoop, or do any one of a hundred things which, if repeated a half-dozen times during an impersonation, may become a mannerism and get between the audience and the spirit of the character. When you are studying a character for the purpose of impersonation determine first to what type it belongs. Then study that type, wherever you are. Daily life becomes your teacher and studio. When you enter upon this art there are no longer dull moments in railroad stations or trains, in shops or in the social whirl. Everywhere and always you are the student seeking to know and understand types of people better, that you may use your knowledge in presenting to an audience an individual. When you have caught the spirit of the individual you must realize the situation out of which this particular individual speaks.

Let us make a special study of the _Tale_ (Browning's epilogue to _The Two Poets of Croisic_). It is perhaps the most exquisite of the poet's creations in this field. The situation reveals a young girl recalling to her poet lover an old Greek tale he had once told her. There is a suggestion from some critics that Browning has drawn his wife in this portrait, and through it pays his tribute to her. This immediately affords us a clue to the type of character to which the speaker belongs.

We cannot hope (nor do we wish) to impersonate Mrs. Browning, but a knowledge of Mrs. Browning and her relation to her poet lover, gained through a study of her _Letters and Sonnets_, will lead us more quickly to a comprehension of the speaker and situation in the _Tale_.

Obsessed by the spirit of the character and fully realizing the situation, our next step is, _in imagination_, to set the stage. This is an important point in presenting a monologue. The impersonator must have a clear idea of his position on his imaginary stage relative to his imaginary interlocutor. But he must remember that _imaginary_ stage-setting admits of only delicately suggestive use. This is true of the handling of a monologue at every point. It must be suggestive. The actor carries to completion the action which the monologuist suggests.

The art of interpreting a monologue depends upon the discrimination of the impersonator in drawing his line between suggestion and actualization in gesture. The business of the monologuist is to make an appeal to the imagination of the audience so vivid that the imagination of the audience can actualize the suggestion. And the illusion is complete. What are the relative positions of the girl and her lover in the _Tale_? There is nothing in the lines to make our choice arbitrary.

It is only important that we determine a relation and keep it consistently throughout the reading. Here is a possible "setting." They are in the poet's study; he is working at his desk; she is sitting in a great chair before the fire, a book in her hand, which she does not read; she is gazing into the flames. She begins dreamily, more to herself than to him--"What a pretty tale you told me." At what point does her tone lose its reflective quality and become more personal?

Where does she turn to him? How do we know that he leaves his chair and comes over to sit on the arm of her chair? What calls him to her? What two qualities of feeling run through her mood and determine the color of her tone and the character of her movements. If your study of Mrs.

Browning has been intelligent, this interplay of the whimsical and serious in her nature cannot have escaped you, and it will illumine now your impersonation of this girl. It is the secret of the peculiar charm of this creation. The story she tells is an old and well-known one. It is the manner of the telling through which we come in touch with an exquisite woman's soul that holds us spellbound. Unless the interpreter catches this secret and reveals it to his audience, he will miss the distinctive feature of the monologue and reduce it to a narrative poem.

A TALE

I

What a pretty tale you told me Once upon a time --Said you found it somewhere (scold me!) Was it prose or was it rhyme, Greek or Latin? Greek, you said, While your shoulder propped my head.

II

Anyhow there's no forgetting This much if no more, That a poet (pray, no petting!) Yes, a bard, sir, famed of yore, Went where such like used to go, Singing for a prize, you know.

III

Well, he had to sing, nor merely Sing but play the lyre; Playing was important clearly Quite as singing: I desire, Sir, you keep the fact in mind For a purpose that's behind.

IV

There stood he, while deep attention Held the judges round, --Judges able, I should mention, To detect the slightest sound Sung or played amiss: such ears Had old judges, it appears!

V

None the less he sang out boldly, Played in time and tune, Till the judges, weighing coldly Each note's worth, seemed, late or soon, Sure to smile 'In vain one tries Picking faults out: take the prize!'

VI

When, a mischief! Were they seven Strings the lyre possessed?

Oh, and afterward eleven, Thank you! Well, sir--who had guessed Such ill luck in store?--it happed One of those same seven strings snapped.

VII

All was lost, then! No! a cricket (What 'cicada'? Pooh!) --Some mad thing that left its thicket For mere love of music--flew With its little heart on fire, Lighted on the crippled lyre.

VIII

So that when (Ah, joy!) our singer For his truant string Feels with disconcerted finger, What does cricket else but fling Fiery heart forth, sound the note Wanted by the throbbing throat?

IX

Ay and, ever to the ending, Cricket chirps at need, Executes the hands intending, Promptly, perfectly,--indeed Saves the singer from defeat With her chirrup low and sweet.

X

Till, at ending, all the judges Cry with one a.s.sent 'Take the prize--a prize who grudges Such a voice and instrument?

Why, we took your lyre for harp, So it shrilled us forth F sharp!'

XI

Did the conqueror spurn the creature, Once its service done?

That's no such uncommon feature In the case when Music's son Finds his Lotte's power too spent For aiding soul-development.

XII

No! This other, on returning Homeward, prize in hand, Satisfied his bosom's yearning: (Sir, I hope you understand!) --Said 'Some record there must be Of this cricket's help to me!'

XIII

So, he made himself a statue: Marble stood, life-size; On the lyre, he pointed at you, Perched his partner in the prize; Never more apart you found Her, he throned, from him, she crowned.

XIV

That's the tale: its application?

Somebody I know Hopes one day for reputation Thro' his poetry that's--oh, All so learned and so wise And deserving of a prize!