Memorabilia

Ah, did you once see Shelley plain, And did he stop and speak to you, And did you speak to him again? How strange it seems, and new!

But you were living before that, And also you are living after; And the memory I started at-- My starting moves your laughter!

I crossed a moor, with a name of its own And a certain use in the world, no doubt, Yet a hand's-breadth of it shines alone 'Mid the blank miles round about:

For there I picked up on the heather And there I put inside my breast A moulted feather, an eagle-feather! Well, I forget the rest.

Read over any short monologue several times and satisfactorily locate and define the meaning of each of these modulations. Observe also the great variety of changes among these modulations and their necessary union for right interpretation.

Take for example "Memorabilia," one of Browning's shortest monologues, and observe in every phrase the nature and necessity of these modulations of the voice.

The reading of a volume of Shelley is said to have greatly influenced Browning when a boy, and this monologue is a tribute to that poet. Some lover of Shelley, possibly Browning himself, meets one who has seen Shelley face to face. He is agitated at the thought of facing one who had been in the presence of that marvellous man. Note the abrupt inflections, the quick movement indicating excitement, the decided touches, and animated changes of pitch.

At the seventh line a great break is indicated by a dash. The speaker seems to be going on to say: "The memory I started at must have been the greatest event of your life." But as he notes the action of the other, the contemptuous smile at his enthusiasm, perhaps a sarcastic remark about Shelley, there is a sudden, abrupt pause after "started at" which is given with a rising or suspensive inflection. "My starting" has extreme change in pitch, color, and movement. Astonishment is mingled with disappointment and grief. Then follows a still greater transition. In the last eight lines of the poem, the speaker, after a long pause, possibly turning slightly away from the other and becoming more subjective, in a slow movement and a total change of tone-color, pays a noble, poetic, and grateful tribute to the object of his admiration. He carefully weighs every word, and accentuates his thought with long pauses, and decided touches upon the words. He gives "moor" a long falling inflection, pausing after it to suggest that he meant more than a moor, possibly all modern or English literature or poetry. He adds

"... with a name of its own And a certain use in the world, no doubt,"

as a reference to English poetry or literature and to show that he was not ignorant of its beauties and glories. Still stronger emphasis should be given to "hand's-breadth," with a pause after it, subordinating the next words, for he is trying to bring his listener indirectly up to the thought of Shelley. "Miles" may also receive an accent in contrast to "hand's-breadth." Then there is great tenderness:

"For there I picked up ..."

Note the change in the resonance of the voice and the low and dignified movement. There is a long inflection, followed by a pause on the word "feather" and a still longer one on the word "eagle." Now follows another extreme transition. Thought and feeling change. He comes back to the familiarity of conversation. He shows uncertainty or hesitation by inflection and a long pause after the word "Well." He has no word of disparagement of other writers, but simply adds,

"Well, I forget the rest."

All else is forgotten in contemplating that one precious "feather" which is, of course, Shelley's poetry.

It is impossible to indicate in words all the mental and emotional actions, or the modulations of the voice necessary to express them. The more complex the imaginative conditions, the more all these modulations are combined. Notice that change of movement, of key, and also of tone-color combine to express extreme changes in situation, feeling, or direction of attention. When there is a very strong emphatic inflection, there is usually an emphatic pause after it. Wherever there is a long pause there is always a salient change of pitch or some variation in the expression to justify it. After an emphatic pause when words are closely connected, there is always a decided subordination, and thus a whole sentence, or, by a series of such changes, an entire poem, is given unity of atmosphere, coloring, and form.

No rules can be laid down for such artistic rendering; for the higher the poetry and the deeper the feeling, the less applicable is any so-called rule. Only the deepest principles can be of lasting use.

Take, for example, Browning's epilogue to "The Two Poets of Croisic," printed also by him in his book of selections under the title of "A Tale:"