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So the soliloquy came into being. We moderns, however, see the absurdity of it. In real life no one thinks aloud or in an empty room. The up-to-date dramatist must certainly avoid this hallmark of the old-fashioned play.

What, then, is to be done? If it be granted, first, that the thoughts of a certain character should be known to the audience, and, secondly, that soliloquy, or the habit of thinking aloud, is in opposition to modern stage technique, how shall a soliloquy be avoided without damage to the play?

Well, there are more ways than one; and now we come to what is meant by stagecraft. Stagecraft is the art of getting over these and other difficulties, and (if possible) getting over them in a showy manner, so that people will say, “How remarkable his stagecraft is for so young a writer,” when otherwise they mightn’t have noticed it at all. Thus, in this play we have been talking about, an easy way of avoiding Hamlet’s soliloquy would be for Ophelia to speak first.

Oph. What are you thinking about, my lord?

Ham. I am wondering whether to be or not to be, whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer–

And so on, till you get to the end, when Ophelia might say, “Ah, yes,” or something non-committal of that sort. This would be an easy way of doing it, but it would not be the best way, for the reason that it is too easy to call attention to itself. What you want is to make it clear that you are conveying Hamlet’s thoughts to the audience in rather a clever manner.

That this can now be done we have to thank the well-known inventor of the telephone. (I forget his name.) The telephone has revolutionized the stage; with its aid you can convey anything you like across the footlights. In the old badly-made play it was frequently necessary for one of the characters to take the audience into his confidence. “Having disposed of my uncle’s body,” he would say to the stout lady in the third row of the stalls, “I now have leisure in which to search for the will. But first to lock the door lest I should be interrupted by Harold Wotnott.” In the modern well-constructed play he simply rings up an imaginary confederate and tells him what he is going to do. Could anything be more natural?

Let us, to give an example of how this method works, go back again to the play we have been discussing.

Enter Hamlet. He walks quickly across the room to the telephone, and takes up the receiver impatiently.

Ham. Hallo! Hallo! I want double-nine–hal-lo! I want double-nine two–hal-lo! Double-nine two three, Elsinore…. Double-nine, yes…. Hallo, is that you, Horatio? Hamlet speaking. I say, I’ve been wondering about this business. To be or not to be, that is the question; whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows–What? No, Hamlet speaking. What? Aren’t you Horatio? I want double-nine two three–sorry…. Is that you, Exchange? You gave me double-five, I want double-nine…. Hallo, is that you, Horatio? Hamlet speaking. I’ve been wondering about this business. To be or not to be, that is the–What? No, I said, To be or not to be…. No, “be”–b-e. Yes, that’s right. To be or not to be, that is the question; whether ’tis nobler–

And so on. You see how effective it is.

But there is still another way of avoiding the soliloquy, which is sometimes used with good results. It is to let Hamlet, if that happen to be the name of your character, enter with a small dog, pet falcon, mongoose, tame bear or whatever animal is most in keeping with the part, and confide in this animal such sorrows, hopes or secret history as the audience has got to know. This has the additional advantage of putting the audience immediately in sympathy with your hero. “How sweet of him,” all the ladies say, “to tell his little bantam about it!”