Selfhood, Shakespeare, and Soliloquies
James Hirsh
¶ 1Leave a comment on paragraph 1 0 Jerrold Seigel has argued that concepts of selfhood in Western philosophy have entailed one or more of three “dimensions”: (1) a bodily dimension (one’s physical sensations, needs, desires, capacities, etc.); (2) a social dimension (interactions with family, friends, economic conditions, culture, etc.); and (3) a reflective, analytical, imaginative dimension.[1] Some people exhibit a balance among the three dimensions while others exhibit a marked imbalance. Some scholars have argued that mutability or flexibility was a prominent element of Renaissance concepts of self and have cited works by Pico della Mirandola and Montaigne.[2] But it was well-understood that some people are psychologically inflexible, as illustrated, for example, by the depiction in Ben Jonson’s plays of narrow-minded, rigid, or obsessive characters. Like real human beings, characters in Renaissance literature vary widely not only in psychological flexibility but in countless other respects as well.
¶ 2Leave a comment on paragraph 2 0 Psychological variability is famously evident among characters in Shakespeare’s plays. Major characters, most secondary characters, and in many cases even quite minor characters are individualized. In some instances this is mainly the result of a single, strikingly idiosyncratic trait. Much more often, individualization of characters is the result of psychological complexity. The more complex the implied hypothetical psychology of characters, the less likely it is that two or more characters will exhibit precisely the same combination of psychological traits, the same implied inner self. Hamlet and Cleopatra are complex in profoundly different ways.
¶ 3Leave a comment on paragraph 3 0 The study of selfhood is complicated by the fact that one person cannot directly perceive the mind or inner self of another person. Instead, we draw inferences about another person’s inner self directly or indirectly from the person’s outward appearance, speeches, and actions. This outward evidence is sometimes ambiguous, inconclusive, intentionally deceptive, or unintentionally misleading. A further complication is that a person does not have infallible access to all elements of his own inner self. Our conscious selves are fashioned in part by unconscious forces. Just as we form inferences about the minds of others on the basis of their outward behavior, we form inferences about the unconscious forces within ourselves on the basis of our conscious thoughts and feelings. Like the outward behavior of others, our conscious states are sometimes ambiguous, inconclusive, or misleading, and we are capable of self-deception.
¶ 4Leave a comment on paragraph 4 0 Although all the dramatized speeches and actions of a character provide bases for a playgoer’s inferences about the character’s hypothetical inner self, soliloquies in the plays of Shakespeare and his contemporaries provided a unique laboratory for thought experiments illuminating the phenomenon of selfhood. In no other period of theatrical history are soliloquies so prevalent in plays of all genres. A soliloquy is defined herein as a dramatic passage with the distinguishing feature that the character portrayed by the actor who speaks the words does not intend them to be heard by any other character. An aside is defined as a speech that a character guards from the hearing of at least one other character. These definitions were not devised a priori but were arrived at empirically on the basis of a systematic survey of the actual practices of late Renaissance dramatists. Soliloquies and asides were not mutually exclusive. A character could guard a soliloquy in an aside from the hearing of other characters if he was aware of the presence on stage of those other characters.[3]
¶ 5Leave a comment on paragraph 5 0 A proper understanding of soliloquies as tools for exploring the issue of selfhood has been hindered by long-standing fallacies. One is the cliché that a soliloquy represented the innermost thought, the inner self, of a character. In fact, the hypothetical self of a character in a Shakespeare play is no more directly perceptible by playgoers than is the mind or inner self of one human being by another human being. Plentiful, conspicuous, unambiguous, and varied evidence demonstrates that soliloquies his plays and in those of other late Renaissance dramatists represented the outward behavior, the spoken words of characters, as a matter of course. Only a sampling of the evidence can be presented here. According to a stage direction in the 1623 Folio text of Richard III next to soliloquy that Richard guards in an aside from all the other characters on stage, Richard “Speakes to himselfe.”[4] This obviously refers to the character not to the actor, who speaks to be heard by playgoers. Richard does not merely think the words. Alone with the corpse of Caesar, Antony declares that the wounds of his friend “like dumb mouths do ope their ruby lips / To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue” (Julius Caesar, 3.1.259-61). In 2 Henry IV, 4.5, Hal soliloquizes by the bedside of his sleeping father and later in the scene describes what he did, “I spake unto this crown as having sense” (157). In the midst of a soliloquy, Hamlet chastises himself, “This is most brave, / That I . . . / Must like a whore unpack my heart with words, And fall a-cursing like a very drab” (2.2.582-86). In a soliloquy Autolycus congratulates himself on his knavery and only then notices the presence of other characters: “If they have heard me, why hanging” (Winter’s Tale, 4.4.626). The only reason that Claudio, Florizel, and Perdita did not overhear him is that they were engaged in a conversation of their own. In Shakespeare’s plays whenever a character is unaware of the presence of another character, the second character overhears the first character’s soliloquy unless the second character is asleep or there is some other obvious impediment. Soliloquies (including soliloquies inadequately guarded in asides) that are explicitly or implicitly overheard on stage or reports of soliloquies overheard off stage occur with remarkable frequency in Shakespeare’s plays. Such episodes occur in Love’s Labor’s Lost (4.3), The Comedy of Errors (2.2), 3 Henry VI (2.5), 1 Henry VI (5.3), Richard III (3.1), Titus Andronicus (5.1), Romeo and Juliet (1.5, 2.2, 5.3), A Midsummer Night’s Dream (3.1), 1 Henry IV (2.3, 5.4), Julius Caesar (2.2, 2.4), As You Like It (2.1, 2.3), Twelfth Night (2.5), Troilus and Cressida (5.2), All’s Well That Ends Well (1.3, 4.1), King Lear (4.1), Macbeth (2.2, 5.1), Antony and Cleopatra (4.9), Cymbeline (4.2), The Winter’s Tale (4.3), and The Tempest (2.2). The Steward’s account of Helena’s offstage behavior also happens to be a description of the theatrical convention of the soliloquy: “She did communicate to herself her own words to her own ears: she thought . . . they touch’d not any stranger sense” (All’s Well, 1.3.107-10).
¶ 6Leave a comment on paragraph 6 0 The convention whereby soliloquies represented the speech of characters as a matter of course, a convention that Shakespeare adhered to with utmost rigor throughout his career and exploited to the fullest, was a key feature in his dramatization of the issue of selfhood. Othello commands Iago, “Show me thy thought” (3.3.116), but the play illustrates the fundamental feature of the human condition that one person can never perceive directly the inner self of a fellow human being. The ability to read minds would be a godlike power. Shakespeare did not provide playgoers with the fantasy experience of possessing such a power by giving them direct access to the inner selves of his characters. Just as each of us forms inferences about the inner selves of our fellow human beings on the basis of their outward behavior, playgoers must make inferences about the hypothetical inner lives of characters based on their outward behavior, which includes their soliloquies.[5]
¶ 7Leave a comment on paragraph 7 2 A second long-standing fallacy about soliloquies in Shakespeare’s plays is that they typically were designed to represent audience address by the character. According to John Barton, “it’s right ninety-nine times out of a hundred to share a soliloquy with the audience. I’m convinced it’s a grave distortion of Shakespeare’s intention to do it to oneself.”[6] In fact, plentiful, conspicuous, varied, and unambiguous evidence in Shakespeare’s plays demonstrates that soliloquies by characters engaged in the action were meant to represent self-address as a matter of course. Only a tiny sampling of the vast evidence can be presented here.
¶ 8Leave a comment on paragraph 8 0 (1) Stage directions. Richard “Speakes to himselfe” not to playgoers. “Bassanio comments on the caskets to himself” (Merchant of Venice, 3.2.62sd).
¶ 9Leave a comment on paragraph 9 0 (2) Declarations by the speaker. In Cymbeline, Cloten comments on something he has just said in a soliloquy: “I dare speak it to myself” (4.1.7), not “I dare speak it to you auditors.”
¶ 10Leave a comment on paragraph 10 0 (3) Descriptions by other characters. In The Comedy of Errors, Luciana asks Dromio (of Syracusa), “Why prat’st thou to thyself?” (2.2.193), not “Why prat’st thou to these auditors?”
¶ 11Leave a comment on paragraph 11 0 (4) Self-address by name, title, epithet, or alias. “Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret” (Richard III, 4.4.8); Romeo: “Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out” (2.1.2); “O poor Orlando! thou art overthrown” (As You Like It, 1.2.259); “If this should be thee, Malvolio?” (Twelfth Night, 2.5.101-02); “Now, banish’d Kent” (Lear, 1.4.4); Edgar: “Tom, away” (Lear, 3.6.110).
¶ 12Leave a comment on paragraph 12 0 (5) Self-address by a second-person pronoun Thersites: “What, lost in the labyrinth of thy fury?” (Troilus and Cressida, 2.3.1-2); “There’s a hole made in your best coat, Master Ford” (Merry Wives of Windsor, 3.5.140-42).
¶ 13Leave a comment on paragraph 13 0 (6) Self-addressed commands. “Then Aaron, arm thy heart” (Titus Andronicus, 2.1.181); Puck: “Goblin, lead them up and down” (Midsummer Night’s Dream, 3.2.399); Hamlet: “O heart, lose not thy nature” (3.2.393); Cordelia: “Love, and be silent” (Lear, 1.1.62). Banquo: “But, hush, no more” (Macbeth, 3.1.10).
¶ 14Leave a comment on paragraph 14 0 (7) Questions that might have provoked comically unwelcome responses if performed as audience address. Romeo: “Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?” (2.2.37). “Hear more!” “Speak!” Macbeth: “Is this a dagger which I see before me [?]” (2.1.33). “No!”
¶ 15Leave a comment on paragraph 15 0 (8) Erroneous assertions by sympathetic characters. If a sympathetic character had acknowledged the presence of playgoers, they would have groaned or shouted out corrections when the character made an erroneous assertion. If a character could see playgoers, it follows that he could also hear them. And yet, after Othello says, “This honest creature, doubtless, / Sees and hears more, much more, than he unfolds” (3.3.242-43), he shows no sign of having heard protests of playgoers.
¶ 16Leave a comment on paragraph 16 0 (9) Apostrophes. Apostrophes (in the sense of “addresses to purely imaginary audiences”) are understandably rare in speeches directed at other characters because it is incongruous to address an imaginary audience if one is addressing actual listeners other than oneself. If soliloquies had commonly represented audience address, then apostrophes would have been as rare in soliloquies as in dialogue directed by a character to the hearing of onstage listeners. It is thus noteworthy that apostrophes pervade soliloquies in Shakespeare’s plays. Among the hundreds of addresses to imaginary audiences in soliloquies are some of the most memorable passages in Shakespeare’s plays. Richard: “Simple plain Clarence, I do love thee so” (1.1.18). Romeo: Arise, fair sun” (2.1.4). Juliet: “O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?” (2.1.33). Hal: “For worms, brave Percy”; “Embowell’d will I see thee by and by” (1 Henry IV, 5.4.87, 109). Falstaff: “Embowell’d! If thou embowel me to-day” (111). Beatrice: “Benedick, love on” (Much Ado About Nothing, 3.1.111). Antony: “Mischief, thou art afoot” (Julius Caesar, 3.2.260). Viola: “O time, thou must entangle this” (Twelfth Night, 2.2.40). Hamlet: “Frailty, thy name is woman!” (1.2.146); “Remember thee!” (1.5.95). Claudius: “Bow, stubborn knees” (3.3.7). Iago: “Not poppy, nor mandragora . . . / Shall ever medicine thee” (3.3.330-33). Othello: “O, I see that nose of yours, but not that dog I shall throw it to”; “you chaste stars”; “thou flaming minister”; Thou cunning’st pattern of excelling nature” (4.1.141-43, 5.2.2, 8, 11). Edmund: “Thou, Nature, art my goddess” (1.2.1). Cordelia: “O dear father, / It is thy business that I go about” (4.4.23-24). Macbeth: “Stars, hide your fires”; “Come, let me clutch thee” (1.4.50, 2.1.34). Lady Macbeth: “Glamis, thou art” (1.5.15).
¶ 17Leave a comment on paragraph 17 0 (10) The operation of a dominant convention. Confronted with plentiful and conspicuous evidence that soliloquies by characters engaged in the action represented self-address, experienced Renaissance playgoers would have assumed that, unless this convention were overridden by an explicit signal, any particular soliloquy represented self-address as a matter of course. Experienced Renaissance playgoers knew that, when a character used a form of the words “thou” or “you” in a soliloquy without an explicit antecedent, the character was addressing either himself or a purely imaginary listener. When Hamlet says in a soliloquy guarded in an aside, “Nay then, I have an eye of you” (2.2.290) without specifying an antecedent for the pronoun “you,” Renaissance playgoers would not have wondered if he were telling them he could see them. They would have been in no doubt that he was apostrophizing Rosencrantz and Guildenstern and that he was saying that he sees them for what they are (agents of his enemy).
¶ 18Leave a comment on paragraph 18 0 (11) Conspicuous absence of evidence of audience address. None of the Shakespearean characters most famous for their soliloquies (Richard III, Hamlet, Iago, Othello, Macbeth) ever explicitly acknowledges the presence of playgoers. Soliloquies by these characters do, on the other hand, contain numerous unambiguous markers of self-address of the kinds catalogued here.
¶ 19Leave a comment on paragraph 19 0 (12) Strict segregation of audience address. With the possible exception of a handful of episodes specifically designed to make fun of audience address in very early comedies, Shakespeare strictly limited audience address to speeches by choral characters who do not interact with characters engaged in the action and to epilogues after the conclusion of the dramatized action.
¶ 20Leave a comment on paragraph 20 0 (13) Mockery of audience address. In the dramatized rehearsals for “Pyramus and Thisbe” (Midsummer Night’s Dream, 1.2 and 3.1) and in the performance of the skit itself (5.1), Shakespeare poked gentle fun at audience address by characters engaged in the action as naïve, amateurish, and undramatic.
¶ 21Leave a comment on paragraph 21 0 (14) Characterization. Richard of Gloucester is an antisocial loner. In his soliloquies, he makes jokes for his own amusement about the gullibility and suffering of other characters. If he had addressed those speeches to playgoers, this would have turned him into a sociable fellow who exerts himself to entertain a large group of strangers. Nor would it have made psychological sense for Romeo to inform thousands of strangers about his feelings for Juliet while keeping these feelings a secret from his closest friends Benvolio and Mercutio. In his harangue to the players at the beginning of 3.2, Hamlet expresses contempt for groundlings. In an earlier soliloquy he asked, “Am I a coward?” (2.2.571). It would not have made psychological sense for him to have asked groundlings for whom he feels contempt if they thought he was a coward. Similar features of characterization demonstrate that countless other soliloquies represented self-address rather than audience address.
¶ 22Leave a comment on paragraph 22 0 (15) Private self versus public self. If soliloquies had represented orations to playgoers, they would have constituted simply further depictions of the character’s public self, like the character’s speeches directed at fellow characters. Shakespeare chose instead to adhere to the convention by which soliloquies represented self-addressed speeches because this gave him the opportunity to depict a character’s most private (though still outward) self, the self to which the character gives voice when she has only herself for her intended audience.
¶ 23Leave a comment on paragraph 23 1 (16) Overheard soliloquies. These episodes are evidence not merely that soliloquies represented the speech of the character but also that soliloquies represented self-address. In the balcony scene Romeo eavesdrops on Juliet’s most private expression of love for him not on her oration to thousands of strangers. The onstage situation when one character eavesdrops on the soliloquy of another character was analogous to the situation enacted in the theater in the case of every soliloquy. Like Romeo, playgoers were eavesdroppers on a speech that the speaker did not intend to be heard by anyone other than herself.[7]
¶ 24Leave a comment on paragraph 24 0 In the dramatization of a character’s private self in a soliloquy, Shakespeare depicts the character engaged in one or more of a variety of self-directed actions.
¶ 25Leave a comment on paragraph 25 0 (1) Characters give voice to emotions in soliloquies not to inform playgoers, not to publicize their emotions, but for one or more implied private motivations. In some cases the expression of the emotion in a soliloquy is a sign of its intensity: the character is bursting with the emotion; it forces itself out in the form of a self-addressed speech. Characters sometimes articulate painful emotions in an effort to come to terms with the pain or in a (generally futile) struggle to effect a catharsis by externalizing the pain in speech. Some characters succumb to a masochistic compulsion to relive a trauma. Conversely, a character might seek to maintain or to intensify a pleasant emotion both by expressing it and by hearing it expressed. In a complex situation a character might use a self-addressed speech to sort through and clarify a multiplicity of emotions.
¶ 26Leave a comment on paragraph 26 0 (2) Characters sometimes review their situations in soliloquies. Even though the dramatist’s purpose may be to supply information to playgoers, that is not the character’s implied motivation. A given character might review her situation in order to give coherence to raw experiences or to establish a sense of control over her situation by capturing it words. In some cases a character compulsively reviews a situation because it was traumatic, ecstatic, or mystifying. Many soliloquies in which characters review their situations contain explicit, unambiguous markers of self-address. When Richard of Gloucester reviews his situation in the opening speech of Richard III, he never shows any awareness of playgoers, and the speech contains an overt and unambiguous marker of self-address: “Dive, thoughts, down to my soul” (1.1.41). The issue is clarified by an analogy. Shakespeare’s plays contain many conversations between or among characters in which the speakers review situations already familiar to all the characters present. Horatio reviews Danish history familiar to his onstage listeners: “our last King . . . / Was, as you know . . .” (Hamlet, 1.1.81). The mere fact that a character describes to other characters a situation already known to them is not a sign that the character is knowingly addressing playgoers. Similarly, the mere fact that in a soliloquy a character reviews his situation is not a sign that the character is addressing playgoers rather than himself.
¶ 27Leave a comment on paragraph 27 0 (3) In many soliloquies a character reasons with himself to arrive at a decision. The character tries to talk himself into or out of believing or doing something and employs argumentation and rhetoric. “Bassanio comments on the caskets to himself,” and this self-directed commentary leads him to choose the leaden casket. Not all such efforts succeed. In a soliloquy at the beginning of 1.7, Macbeth attempts to reason himself out of murdering Duncan but fails. A character engaged in self-persuasion is in a radically different dramatic situation from one who is presenting an argument to thousands of strangers.
¶ 28Leave a comment on paragraph 28 0 (4) Many soliloquies depict a character in the act of formulating a plan of action. Malvolio: “I will smile, I will do everything that thou [the offstage Olivia] wilt have me” (2.5.178-79). Hamlet: “About, my brains! . . . I’ll have these players / Play something like the murder of my father” (2.2.588). The private act of formulating a plan is different from the public act of reporting one’s plan to a large group of strangers.
¶ 29Leave a comment on paragraph 29 0 (5) An apostrophe in a self-addressed speech is an incisive way for a character to formulate, reinforce, or revise an attitude. Prince Henry: “I know you all, and will a while uphold / The unyok’d humor of your idleness” (1 Henry IV, 1.2.195-96). Beatrice: “Contempt, farewell, and maiden pride, adieu!” (Much Ado About Nothing, 3.1.109). Edmund: “Thou, Nature, art my goddess.”
¶ 30Leave a comment on paragraph 30 0 (6) Characters use self-addressed speeches not merely to express emotions or attitudes but to arouse them. Many characters, for example, give themselves pep talks to stimulate their courage, fortitude, or determination. “Now, York, or never, steel thy fearful thoughts” (2 Henry VI, 3.1.331). “Then, Aaron, arm thy heart.” Iago: “Dull not device by coldness and delay” (2.3.388).
¶ 31Leave a comment on paragraph 31 0 (7) Characters sometimes use self-addressed speeches in attempts to exert control over themselves. Portia: “O love, be moderate” (Merchant of Venice, 3.2.111). Hamlet: “O heart, lose not thy nature!” Not all such efforts succeed. Claudius passionately and eloquently urges himself to repent (3.3), but some non-speaking part of Claudius’s inner self refuses to cooperate.
¶ 32Leave a comment on paragraph 32 0 (8) Characters sometimes use self-addressed speeches to probe their own thought processes, to engage in self-analysis. Hamlet, Iago, and Macbeth do so obsessively.
¶ 33Leave a comment on paragraph 33 0 (9) In many soliloquies a character gives voice to a psychological conflict. In 3.3, Othello oscillates between extremes, sometimes from one second to the next. At line 276, he resigns himself to Desdemona’s infidelity: “This forked plague is fated to us.” When she enters one line later, he experiences a renewed confidence in her: “If she be false, O then heaven mocks itself! / I’ll not believe’t” (278-79).
¶ 34Leave a comment on paragraph 34 0 (10) Even though the speaker of a soliloquy is aware of no audience other than himself, he still plays roles. Instead of playing a role to influence another character’s impression of him, he does so in an attempt to influence his own impression of himself. Hamlet rehearses the role of single-minded avenger, “Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain!” (2.2.581), but then finds fault with his performance: “Why what an ass am I!” (582).
¶ 35Leave a comment on paragraph 35 0 (11) Some self-addressed speeches depict a characters engaged in wishful thinking or self-deception. The character attempts to talk himself into believing something he has reason to believe is false. Malvolio’s soliloquies in Twelfth Night, 2.5, which contain unambiguous markers of self-address, depict his strenuous effort to convince himself that Olivia is in love with him. In his soliloquies Iago attempts to convince himself that he has a sane motive for destroying the lives of others. Eighty-two years after Shakespeare died, John Vanbrugh propounded the dogma that “upon the Stage the person who speaks a Soliloquy is always suppos’d to deliver his real Thoughts to the Audience,”[8] and many scholars have casually applied this dogma retroactively to Shakespeare. In fact, a major function of many soliloquies in Shakespeare’s plays was specifically to depict the curious, fascinating, and disturbing phenomenon of self-deception.
¶ 36Leave a comment on paragraph 36 0 The plentiful evidence of self-directed behavior by speakers of soliloquies, only a tiny sampling of which could be catalogued here, demonstrates that Shakespeare and late Renaissance playgoers were fascinated by what a character engaged in the action might say in a speech directed only at himself and were not interested in what a character engaged in the action might say to playgoers if the character knew that he was merely a character in a play. Many of these self-directed speeches illustrate the notion that the interactions among the parts of a person’s self might be as complex and dynamic and therefore as dramatic as a person’s interactions with other persons.
Notes
¶ 37Leave a comment on paragraph 37 0 [1] The Idea of the Self: Thought and Experience in Western Europe since the Seventeenth Century (Cambridge UP, 2005).
¶ 38Leave a comment on paragraph 38 0 [2] See, for example, Thomas Greene, “The Flexibility of the Self in Renaissance Literature,” in The Disciplines of Criticism, ed. Peter Demetz et al. (New Haven: Yale UP, 1968), 241-64.
¶ 39Leave a comment on paragraph 39 0 [3] For an account of the complex conventions governing soliloquies, asides, and eavesdropping in the period, see James Hirsh, “Guarded, Unguarded, and Unguardable Speech in Late Renaissance Drama,” in Who Hears in Shakespeare? Stage and Screen, ed. Laury Magnus and Walter Cannon (Madison, NJ: Fairleigh Dickinson UP, 2012). 17-40.
¶ 40Leave a comment on paragraph 40 0 [4] The First Folio of Shakespeare: The Norton Facsimile, ed. Charlton Hinman, 2nd ed. (New York: Norton, 1996), TLN 792 (1.3.311sd).
¶ 41Leave a comment on paragraph 41 0 [5] Edward Pechter has asserted that “Shakespeare makes us wonder whether there is or can be an interior self apart from represented public actions.” See “Julius Caesar and Sejanus: Roman politics, inner selves and the powers of the Theatre,” in Shakespeare and His Contemporaries: Essays in Comparison, ed. E.A.J. Honigmann (Manchester: Manchester UP, 2005), 64. In fact, the circumstance that something cannot be directly observed or represented does not call its existence into question as long as its effects can be observed or represented. Just as the observable behavior of a person is evidence that the person has an inner self, the represented behavior of a character is evidence that Shakespeare intended playgoers to imagine that the character has a hypothetical inner self.
¶ 42Leave a comment on paragraph 42 0 [6] Playing Shakespeare (London: Methuen, 1984), 94.
¶ 43Leave a comment on paragraph 43 0 [7] For much more evidence that soliloquies in late Renaissance drama represented self-addressed speeches, see James Hirsh, Shakespeare and the History of Soliloquies (Madison, NJ: Fairleigh Dickinson UP, 2003), chapters 4-6.
¶ 44Leave a comment on paragraph 44 0 [8] The Complete Works of Sir John Vanbrugh, ed. Bonamy Dobreé and Geoffrey Webb (London: Nonesuch, 1927), 1:214.
Thanks for this essay. Knowing that a short work on a complex topicwill of necessity leave aspects of that topic unaddressed, I am hesitant to ask for further elaboration of points that especially interest me. Since I do think that the essay is suggestive of how drama in general and Shakespeare in particular can be relevant to philosophy, however, I would like to comment on how (at least in my opinion) that relevance might be pointed out more directly.First, although it does say that soliloquies “represented the outward behavior” of characters” rather than “innermost thought” (par. 5), I think the essay might more explicitly discuss differences between real people and characters in a play. For example, the paper notes that “the study of selfhood is complicated by the fact that one person cannot directly perceive the mind of another person,” and that we instead “draw inferences about another person’s inner self directly or indirectly from the person’s outward appearance, speeches, and actions” (par. 3), but it does not consider the possibility that this description, which is based on a way of talking about real people, does not apply in its entirety to characters in a play, who cannot be said to have inner selves that have no outward expression–any more than they can be said to have biographical details that go entirely unindicated. Looking at characters rather than at people actually could be said to simplify the study, since it leaves out the possibility of complete secrecy. In other words, it’s not only that “the hypothetical self of a character in a Shakespeare play is no more directly perceptible by playgoers than is the mind or inner self of one human being by another human being” (par. 5); there is no such self unless it is in some way indicated or expressed in the play. It seems to me that a careful look at how audiences perceive and talk about characters could be revealing of how we sometimes talk about one another, and might further illuminate some lines of thinking on the issue of the self. Wittgenstein, for example, has pointed out that when we speak about something as “inner,” we are usually commenting on a perceived problem with something outer. (Many of his pertinent remarks are collected in Last Writings on the Philosophy of Psychology, vol. 2: The Inner and the Outer.)The necessity of expression in a play leads to uncertainty about the distinction between the representation of “innermost thought” and the representation of “self-address.” Perhaps even using the word “represent” for self-address is inadvisable, since it seems to suppose some silent, inner self-address that is represented by theself-address spoken aloud. I see little advantage in describing asoliloquy in this way rather than as a self-address that representsthought. It’s as if we want to get beyond words that represent thoughts, to arrive at words that represent words that representthoughts. (The philosophical objections that could be raised totalking about words as representations of thoughts might also beusefully applied here, however.) Also, if we remove words a step away from thoughts, what justification do we have for talking about soliloquies as “a unique laboratory for thought experiments illuminating the phenomenon of self-hood” (par. 4)? Why should we not more accurately say “the phenomenon of performing self-hood”? To what degree is it true that when we talk about selfhood, we’re actually talking about a performance of selfhood?In an essay that describes a stage convention in such useful detail,more explicit thought could be given to the significance of asoliloquy being a stage convention _rather than_ a representation of a real-life practice. In your response to Sara MacDonald, you comment that “Playgoers overheard the self-addressed speeches of characters just as characters often overhear the self-addressed speeches of their fellow characters and just as one real human being might overhear a self-addressed speech of a fellow real human being.” Of course, a long self-addressed speech is theoretically possible in real life, but the only place I have ever overheard one longer than one or two sentences is in a play–where such speeches are conventional. I’m not sure how useful it is to consider them as representational; and if we do, it seems just as useful to call them representations of thought as representations of self-directed speeches.The demands of a too-determined realism also lead to discussions of the motivations of characters who make soliloquies. I am not denying that such motivations are sometimes explicitly given, but I’m also not convinced it’s always useful to try to intuit the motivation of a speaker who must, according to the convention of the art, speak. Motivations are given in many cases exactly because it is not realistically credible that a person would speak that way; themotivation might be as conventional as the rest of the speech.A point that I will make the final one of an already too-long comment is that defining a self as a “combination of psychological traits,” an “implied inner self” (par. 2), forces some of the early ends to discussion that I mention above. Limiting the self to something “inner” seems to me to ignore the social dimension mentioned at the outset (par. 1). For a discussion of the self focused more on social, interpersonal concerns, I humbly offer my own Ph.D. dissertation, Knowledge, Love, and Self in Shakespeare (University of Leeds, 2006).Again, thanks for such a stimulating essay.
This essay renders undeniable its central claim that soliloquys represent self-directed speech rather than interior thought or audience address. It begins by methodically establishing the importance of critical clarity about soliloquys, in that they are an especially rich technique for exploring notions of selfhood. Paragraphs 1 and 2 define selfhood as complex but individual; that is, unified rather than multiple and incoherent. Paragraphs 3 and 6, however, focus on the unknowability of one’s own self and that of others, and the concluding paragraph 36 offers an image of a multiple self, made up of numerous personae. To me, these paragraphs and a number of the textual examples of soliloquy given in paragraphs 25-35 suggest the possibility that the soliloquy is a technique that creates the reassuring appearance of a unified self. It reveals the fragmentation, contradiction, and volatility of selfhood, but presents them in a special mode that yokes these warring elements together in a set piece spoken by a single subject. The often exquisite artistry of the soliloquy is carefully coherent in form, and entirely artificial, but is used to present a fluctuating selfhood that we recognize as psychologically realistic. The notion of soliloquy as self-directed speech already splits the self into speaker and listener, and the content of the soliloquys suggest further divisions. I wonder if this might be addressed a bit more directly. It’s a great strength of the essay that it clarifies the nature of soliloquy in such a crystalline way as to allow further penetration into the depths of these speeches and their depictions of selfhood.
Dear Charlotte, thank you for your kind and thoughtful comments. You misconstrued a few elements of the essay. You assert, for example, that “Paragraphs 1 and 2 define selfhood as complex but individual; that is, unified rather than multiple and incoherent.” You use the words “that is” as if the description you construct, “unified rather than multiple and incoherent” were the equivalent of the terms actually used in paragraph 2: “psychological variability,” “psychological complexity,” and “individualized” characters. Your substitution is actually profoundly at odds with those descriptions. A person who is psychologically complex has a mind with multiple components. A person in a love-hate relationship has a complex attitude to the other person, and this attitude is multiple and not unified. Psychological variability includes variability in organization: some people are highly organized and stable while others are less well organized and volatile, and still others have suffered wholesale mental breakdowns. That you do not fully recognize the key element of variability in the argument is partly the result of your projection of an abstract Platonism onto an empirical essay, as in the following passage: “To me, these paragraphs . . . suggest the possibility that the soliloquy is a technique that creates the reassuring appearance of a unified self” (emphasis added). There is no such thing as “the soliloquy.” There are only soliloquies. While soliloquies in late Renaissance drama share some characteristics as a matter of historical contingency (massive evidence, a sampling of which is catalogued in the essay, demonstrates, for example, that they represented self-addressed speeches), evidence presented in the essay also demonstrates that they vary quite widely in many other characteristics. Some soliloquies do convey the impression that, at least at the time the character speaks the soliloquy, she is at one with herself. Other soliloquies, however, suggest that the speaker is experiencing severe psychological disunity, an internal conflict that is tearing the character apart. This is puzzling only if you assume that “the soliloquy” is always one and only one thing in all respects and disregard evidence of variability in the particular matter of the degree of psychological organization implied by different soliloquies. In another sentence you project another all-encompassing generalization onto the essay. You assert that “the soliloquy is carefully coherent in form.” In fact, while some soliloquies are indeed coherent in form, others are disjointed, containing abrupt changes of direction, self-contradictions, or cryptic elements that Shakespeare included as outward signs of the character’s implied psychological turmoil. I am grateful that you took the trouble to comment on the essay and hope that this response is helpful.
The argument you make regarding the self-directedness of the soliloquies is interesting and persuasive. I wonder, however, if you might flesh out more fully what thus ultimately means. What does the character learn or achieve within herself by externalizing her thoughts in speech. What is the difference between thinking and speaking? What does this tell us about Shakespeare’s overall understanding of the place of speech in the development of a person’s understanding of themselves or the world around them? This might then be thought about on a larger scale, what does the speaking or acting of a play add to the audience’s “knowledge” that merely reading a text cannot achieve?
Dear Sara, I am grateful for your generous response and astute questions. I have already explored some of these intriguing questions in earlier publications, most notably in my book, Shakespeare and the History of Soliloquies. I explore others in forthcoming publications: “Dialogic Self-Address in Shakespeare’s plays” to appear in Shakespeare and “Late Renaissance Self-Address Fashioning” in Medieval and Renaissance Drama in England. As those publications and your questions indicate, the curious, intricate conventions that governed soliloquies and asides in late Renaissance drama have many important artistic and philosophical implications and ramifications. I have space here only for a brief, partial answer to one of your questions: “What is the difference between thinking and speaking?” In dramatic terms, the difference cannot be exaggerated. Interior monologues, which occur in post-Renaissance drama, provide playgoers with direct access to the hypothetical mind of a character. This makes the character radically unlike any real human being ever encountered by a playgoer because no human being ever has such direct access to the mind of another human being. In our interactions with other human beings, we always have to imagine what is going on in their minds by interpreting their outward behavior (their speeches, actions, body language, etc.) or secondhand reports of their outward behavior. An interior monologue in a play provides playgoers with the fantasy experience of having the godlike power to read minds. The massive evidence demonstrating that soliloquies in late Renaissance drama represented self-addressed speeches of characters as a matter of course rather than interior monologues indicates that dramatists in the period did not place playgoers in a position of godlike superiority to characters. Playgoers overheard the self-addressed speeches of characters just as characters often overhear the self-addressed speeches of their fellow characters and just as one real human being might overhear a self-addressed speech of a fellow real human being.
James, Thank you for your response. I look forward to reading your book on this. I think that the question is of significant philosophic interest, particularly with philosophic accounts of the mind and how individuals form understandings of themselves and what they take to be true. From a Hegelian perspective, the act of speaking, rather than merely just thinking, has the effect of making objective to the speaker what was previously only subjectively present or true. This objectifying of thought, can have the effect of giving it greater credence, particularly if what is then seen, or in this instance, heard, conforms with other objective realities. In speaking (and in further action), we somehow test what we thought was true against the objective or external world around us. In showing that the soliloquies are self-directed, as opposed a way of just giving the audience further information, you suggest that there might be a similar account of the nature and relationship of thought and action in Shakespeare’s plays.
Thank you, Sara, for your thoughtful follow-up. You are correct that “This objectifying of thought [in speech] can have the effect of giving it greater credence.” On the other hand, it sometimes has the opposite effect. In some cases, when a character gives voice to an idea or emotion, she does not like what she hears. For example, Hamlet works himself into a state of unalloyed vengeance and then expresses contempt for what he has just done: Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless villain! Why what an ass am I! This is most brave, / That I Must like a whore unpack my heart with words. (2.2.581-85)Giving expression to an emotion in a self-addressed speech sometimes has a cathartic effect; it purges the character of the emotion. I analyze soliloquies dramatizing conflicted attitudes of the speakers in “Dialogic Self-Address in Shakespearean Drama,” which will appear in a forthcoming issue of the journal Shakespeare.