Soliloquies When Characters Stop Being

Soliloquies

When Characters Stop Being Polite and Start Being Real: The Importance of Soliloquies in the Works of William Shakespeare

William Shakespeare's works are among some of the most well-known texts and stories in the English language, and indeed in any language around the world. There are many reasons for the enduring popularity of Shakespeare's plays, not the least of which is the pure skill he displays with language in the their texts. The themes that his plays deal with are quite profound and almost always universal to all of humanity, and his poetic talent provides insight into these themes to a degree that few authors before or since have been able even to approximate, at least not on the wide range of topics and perspectives that Shakespeare brought to bear on the issues. But his poetic talent and the universality of the themes included in his plays are not the only reasons that Shakespeare's works have proved so enduring.

Most of the world's most well-known stories can have their importance boiled down to one specific aspect of the work: character. Very few people know the origins of Santa Claus, nor why he is also known as Saint Nick, or what the modern figure's connection to Christianity is, for that matter. Yet Santa -- and other similar figures in other cultures -- is one of the most recognizable characters in our world today. The same is true for many of Shakespeare's characters, who present strong figures in our collective consciousness even when their stories may only be partially known. Romeo and Juliet are two of the world's best known lovers, Richard III is one of Western civilization's most reviled (and enjoyed) villains, and Katherine from the Taming of the Shrew remains, whether for better or for worse, the embodiment of the feisty and demanding woman.

Yet none of these characters, nor the many others that can be counted among Shakespeare's most fully-rendered and enduring characters, is actually as simple as their image in the collective consciousness suggests. Not only do they change as their respective plays progress, as any character in a decent (let alone a great) piece of literature necessarily must, but many of these characters also purposefully present different sides of themselves to various other characters at certain points in the play. Even more, many of Shakespeare's characters have motives and perspectives that are not entirely clear throughout the play, and even seem to behave and think in ways that seem to contradict each other. These characters can be trusted to reveal their true motives and intentions in only one situation -- their soliloquies, or monologues that are addressed not to any other character or characters onstage, but rather to the audience (or the open air, depending in the interpretation).

This paper will attempt to paint a more accurate picture of some of Shakespeare's more complex, enigmatic, and misunderstood characters by examining their monologues -- and especially their soliloquies -- in the various plays in which they appear. Though these characters are assumed to be fairly well understood by many if not most people that are familiar with Shakespeare's works, there is often a great deal of ambiguity and uncertainty surrounding their image in the collective consciousness. Even the plots of the plays and the eventual outcomes of the various characters discussed herein do not necessarily accurately reveal the interior lives and motivations of these characters. It is only through a parsing and close reading of their monologues and soliloquies that these characters are truly revealed.

Romeo and Juliet

The greatest love story ever told, according to some, is Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. The two young lovers of the title, whose families are in a bitter and unexplained rivalry with each other, find happiness and togetherness only in their mutual deaths, thus tying an eternal knot that ends in what is in most interpretations an incredibly tragic yet loving moment. There is certainly a great deal of evidence that backs up this interpretation, and it is even likely that Romeo and Juliet believe, at least consciously, that this is the truth of their story. A careful examination of certain monologues in the play reveal other possibilities, however.

Though love is typically believed to be the driving force between these two youths throughout the play, Romeo's famous monologue underneath Juliet's balcony shows a much baser interpretation -- pure teenage lust. His descriptions of Juliet, though romantic sounding, are actually highly confused and inconsistent. There are only two points of real clarity, and these are when Romeo stops describing the beauty he perceives in Juliet and directly expresses his desires. From this, it is clear that Romeo certainly confuses his feelings of lust with love; when he attempts to express himself in terms of the more noble emotion his language is somewhat wandering and inconsistent, whereas when he acknowledges is true and direct desires his language is marked by a sudden and certain clarity.

This monologue starts with some of the most famous lines in All of Shakespeare, and indeed all of English literature: "But soft, what light through yonder window break? / it is the East, and Juliet is the Sun!" (Riverside 1114, II. ii. 1-2). This metaphor is simple and straightforward enough, but from here on out the image begins to fail Romeo. He continues by telling Juliet -- the sun, that is -- to rise and do away with "the envious moon, / Who is already sick and pale with grief / That thou her maid art far more fair than she" (Riverside 1114, II. ii. 4-6). This statement, though it makes literal sense, serves to highly confuse the metaphor. The sun is not considered the moon's maid, but if anything the moon is considered subservient to the sun. There is an obvious play on the word "maid," which refers to Juliet's virginity, but the concept of femininity and chastity is actually associated with the moon, not in opposition to it, through the Roman goddess Diana -- a figure with whom Shakespeare and the Italian Romeo would both have been quite familiar (Rose 97-100).

Juliet then, a maid in the sense that she is still a virgin, is being exhorted by Romeo to kill the "envious" symbol of virginity; his referring to her as the Sun at the start of the monologue can be seen as Romeo's mind, whether consciously or not, putting her in direct opposition to virginity from the very start. The confusion of his symbolic description of Juliet continues when he begins comparing the brightness of her eyes to stars, and only degrades into even further confusion as the description continues: "What if her eyes were there, they in her head? / the brightness of her cheek would shame those stars / as daylight doth a lamp" (Riverside 1114, II. ii. 18-20). First, then, her eyes are bright enough to take the place of stars (though Juliet herself is the Sun), and then her cheeks would put those stars to shame. Romeo cannot even keep his focus on a single body part, let alone a single symbolic image.

It is also worthwhile to note that his devotion to Juliet is purely physical -- indeed, he has never had any interaction with her that would allow for a deeper appreciation or love. It could be argued, and rightfully so, that Shakespeare's plays are full of characters that fall in love at first sight, and thus Shakespeare's idea of love could be seen as based primarily on physical attraction, but these characters also go about professing their love repeatedly without immediately and forwardly making physical advances. This monologue's clearest points, however, clearly indicate the physical nature of Romeo's "love," if indeed it can be referred to as such. Amidst all of the confusion of his symbols and the conflicting images of Juliet as an object of feminine beauty and an object of male lust, two of Romeo's statements stand out with a particular clarity that reveals what his actual motivation is.

The second of these is actually the least explicit and the most tender, suggesting that he has gotten a grip in himself somewhat by the end of the monologue. After describing her cheek, Romeo notes that it is resting on her hand: "O that I were a glove upon that hand, / That I might touch that cheek!" (Riverside 1114, II. ii. 24-5). This is not an especially explicit sexual advance, but it does reveal Romeo's desire both to possess Juliet's flesh (as a glove possess the flesh of a hand), and to touch her with impunity. An even clearer example of his true desires is found nearer the beginning of the monologue, during Romeo's confusion of Juliet as a maid of the moon's: "Her vestal livery is but sick and green, / and none but fools do wear it. Cast it off" (Riverside 1114, II. ii. 8-9). Whatever the confusion of the symbol, Romeo is quite clearly (even if arguably figuratively) telling Juliet to remove her clothes.

Juliet herself, though ostensibly a virgin, is certainly not innocent in this regard; though certain strains of chauvinism have been purportedly found in this and others of his plays, Shakespeare certainly cannot be accused of granting males a monopoly on lust. In the shorter monologue that she delivers in the same scene, unaware of Romeo's presence, she famously asks, "What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot, / nor arm, nor face, nor any other part / Belonging to a man" (Riverside 1114, II. ii. 40-2). She does not mention a mind, a spirit, or any other intangible qualities that might make her protestations of a deep, emotional love somewhat more believable, but instead focuses on the physical aspects of Romeo (including the suggestive "any other part belonging to a man") -- the true root of her desires.

It is not love, then, that causes these two teenagers to be drawn to each other. They have no real knowledge or understanding of each other beyond the exoticism that is introduced by their families' feuds, and their brief meeting and kiss at the ball earlier in the evening. What exists between Romeo and Juliet is nothing other than attraction and lust. Teenagers are very prone to mistaking these feelings for some sort of deep emotional connection, and Romeo's confusion in his monologue shows how false and misleading feelings of love can become intertwined with direct and very clear thoughts of lust. Juliet's love of Romeo is equally based in physicality, as evidenced by her own monologue in the scene, and their joint sexual infatuations play into each other rendering neither one of them capable of any sort of true love or rational thought. The fact that their third face-to-face meeting is at the scene of their wedding is evidence of their foolishness.

This last fact is also evidence of another character's extreme foolishness, which in itself is a marked departure from the way he seems to be portrayed and perceived in the play. Friar Laurence, who is the source of the major plot in the play -- i.e. The secret marriage between Romeo and Juliet, and the potion that makes Juliet appears as dead and which leads ultimately to Romeo and then her own actual death -- is seen as a voice of wisdom and reason by most of the other characters. His monologues, too, however, reveal that he is a very different character with different motives than those that are traditionally ascribed to him. Rather than a wise and benevolent man whose primary interest is the happiness and flourishing of his young friend Romeo and his new love, Friar Laurence reveals through his soliloquy that he is actually a self-serving schemer to some degree.

This is acknowledged almost explicitly at the end of his speech regarding the duality of nature:

"Two such opposed kings encamp them still

In man as well as herbs, grace and rude will;

And where the worser is predominant,

Full soon the canker death eats up that plant"

(Riverside 1116, II. iii. 27-30)

The Friar shows a clear desire to be important in the proceedings of the play, and his constant intercessions show that the application of his wisdom stem not only from a desire to help (the "grace" of the monologue), but also from a sense of pride and importance (or "rude will").

Richard III

One cannot talk of rude will in Shakespeare without addressing his most interesting and most complete villain, Richard III. Though his account of this last King from the House of York is wildly historically inaccurate according to contemporary sources and modern scholarship, it still makes for one of the most memorable characters in the entire Shakespearean canon (Riverside 748-51). Indeed, there are few characters in all of Western literature that are as deceitful, manipulative, and greedily grasping as this severely twisted (in mind, soul, and body) royal, nor are there many that are so brazenly honest with themselves regarding either the dastardliness of their deeds or their own enjoyment of them.

Yet despite the rather obvious pure evil of Richard's character, there is still some debate regarding his precise motives and intentions, which appear in some ways to shift during the play. Most characters do have a shift in attitude as the drama of a play unfolds; it is one of the hallmarks of a well-crafted play, or a well-written piece of literature of any type, for that matter. In addition, Richard appears to have several motives at various points throughout the play, some of which may seem to mitigate his evil. Specifically, there is a great deal f accusation and, to be frank, whining on Richard's part about the wrongs that have been done to him that he uses to justify some of his actions.

These accusations, however, are not actually heartfelt, nor does Richard's arc in the play truly reflect internal changes, but rather only the external changes of his power and circumstance. He remains the same grasping, self-centered, manipulative and masochistic man throughout the action of the play, and he takes a great deal of personal and visceral enjoyment out of each step on his route to the throne. Even the more believable of the various motivations that seem to be hinted at or even directly stated at various points in the play -- avenging the wrongs done to him by others, attempting to create a strong and undisputed monarchy, and even his own far less noble and altruistic (and therefore somewhat more believable) personal political ambition -- do not truly represent Richard's character, but instead can be seen as yet more forms and methods of manipulation that he practices in order to achieve his true ultimate goal, which in reality is nothing more or less than a compulsive desire to be the center of attention, negatively or positively.

This window into Richard's true character can be clearly seen in the several soliloquies he delivers throughout the play, which also contain some of the most famous phrases in all of Richard the Third. These stand-out phrases are well-known not only because they are memorably phrased, but also because they go right to the heart of Richard's character and the overall meaning of the play. Richard's near total self-absorption almost automatically renders his dialogue -- that is, his interactions and words with other people/characters -- completely untrustworthy and essentially meaningless when it comes to truth and reality. This fact of Richard's self-absorption makes the soliloquies that the erstwhile King delivers in the play far more important than the same elements and examination in other plays in developing and understanding the play and the title character.

The play begins with what is perhaps its most famous line, "Now is the winter of our discontent," which continues less famously "Made glorious summer by this sun of York" (Riverside 752, I. i. 1-2). The opening monologue continues with the repeated use of "our," indicating a cohesion amongst the people -- and especially the nobles -- of England that had not existed for much of the preceding period known as the Wars of the Roses. In the fourteenth line of the monologue, however, Richard makes a distinct turn with the words, "But I" (Riverside 752, I. i. 14). The language itself makes the distinction between the "u" (or actually, the "me") and "them" of Richard's worldview; even without any deeper investigation, it is clear that Richard holds himself apart from everyone else for one reason or another, and that this separation is a major factor in his personality and his motivations.

The second portion of the monologue, which is approximately twice as long as the first part, is just as heavy with I's, my's, and mine's as the first thirteen lines are laden with our's. This makes Richard's number-one priority very clear right form the very start of the play. He does not think about his brothers, the state of England, the throne, is lust, or even revenge except in that they relate first and foremost to him. Each of these can be useful and vaguely important to Richard of Gloucester, but only insofar as they serve to bring attention to him, forcing others to focus on him as much as he focuses on himself. His description of his own physical deformities seems to betray this obsession with himself in a macabre fashion: "I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty / to strut before a wanton ambling nymph; / I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion" (Riverside 752. I. i. 16-8).

These lines, along with the many other self-references to his shape and deformities that appear throughout the play, clearly show how obsessed Richard is with his appearance. This has been interpreted as another form of manipulation that Richard uses in order to elicit pity and sympathy from others, persuading them to ally with him or at least to forgive him (Clemens 39-40). Though he certainly uses this tactic, this monologue -- which is not delivered to any onstage characters -- shows that there is a deeper reason for these thoughts, and that this obsession, though consciously useful to Richard, is also an ingrained part of his character. Richard is a character that is entirely wrapped up in himself, and is even fascinated by his own grotesque features. His use of these features to achieve external ends is secondary to his character; his obsession with himself is primary.

This opening soliloquy of Richard's also reveals other clues about his motives, suggesting they are not really as practical or even ambitious as is often thought. He is not disrupting the nobility because he is power hungry, but rather because he is bored -- and he says so twice in this very soliloquy. The first comes after his lengthy description of his deformity, which causes him to be left out of the frivolity: "Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, / Have no delight to pass away the time" -- peace, for Richard, is simply boring (Riverside 753, I. i. 24-5). He has a plan to change things, however, stating that he is "determined to prove a villain / and hate the idle pleasures of these days" (Riverside 753, I. i. 30-1). The real reason that Richard causes so much disruption in the world around him is because without this chaos, he cannot be the center of attention -- this is his true, underlying motive.

There is no question that Richard enjoys power, both politically and in his abilities of personal persuasion and manipulation. But this power is only necessary in that it allows him to insinuate himself into many different situations, and always as a key figure. Even when he is acting falsely humble before various other characters later in the play, he cannot help but make himself seem important in giving advice or telling a secret (often an invention of his own scheming). This monologue's linguistic construction and its explicit meaning make it clear that for Richard, the only thing that really matters is Richard. It is not the crown that he is after, but the self-importance that comes with it. Even when he is facing characters that openly revile him, and say so to his face, is enjoyment of the situation is not diminished, but rather seems to be heightened -- there's no such thing as bad attention.

Kate of Kate Hall

Of course, for some of Shakespeare's characters there doesn't seem to be such a thing as good attention. In the Taming of the Shrew, Katherine does not wish to entertain even the notion of any of her suitors. He does not want attention from them or truly from anyone else, but spends most of her time wanting to be left alone to have her own way. Eventually, she is "tamed" by Petruchio, who marries her and appears to have been successful in molding her into the type of docile woman and wife that was the ideal of Elizabethan times.

Katherine does not ever deliver a true soliloquy in the play, but the longest monologue belongs to her, and it comes right at the end of the drama. According to some interpretations, this speech signifies that she has in fact been conquered in a sense; throughout the monologue, she exhorts women to exhibit a very specific brand of femininity, and praises the rightness of a system that places women in subservience to men, first their fathers and then their husbands. She details many of the qualities that women ought to possess, which are in direct opposition and contrast to her own attitudes and behaviors as seen throughout the play, and explains why these should still be considered feminine virtues, and all of it before a crowd of guests at a wedding feast. The timing and the content of her monologue make this one of the most extensive treatises on the proper gender roles in a union of marriage that appears in any of Shakespeare's plays, and has caused no small amount of controversy and uproar over the years.