All this dramatic action, however, must be secondary to the conception of the character of the monk-painter. Almost immediately, in the very midst of the excitement, possibly with reference to the very fellow who had grasped his throat, the artist, with the true spirit of a painter, exclaims,
"He's Judas to a tittle, that man is! Just such a face!"
and as the chief of the squad of police sends his watchmen away, the painter's heart once more awakes and discovers a picture, and he says, almost to himself:
"I'd like his face-- His, elbowing on his comrade in the door With the pike and lantern,--for the slave that holds John Baptist's head a-dangle by the hair With one hand ('Look you, now,' as who should say) And his weapon in the other, yet unwiped! It's not your chance to have a bit of chalk, A wood-coal or the like? or you should see! Yes, I'm the painter, since you style me so. What, brother Lippo's doings, up and down, You know them, and they take you? like enough! I saw the proper twinkle in your eye-- 'Tell you, I liked your looks at very first. Let's sit and set things straight now, hip to haunch."
Thus the monologue is introduced, and with a captain of a night-watch in Florence as listener, this great painter, who tried to paint things truly, pours out his critical reflections,--
"A fine way to paint soul, by painting body So ill, the eye can't stop there, must go further And can't fare worse!"
This great reformer in art is made by Browning to declare why men should paint
"God's works--paint anyone, and count it crime To let a truth slip by,"
for according to this man, who initiated a new movement in art,
"Art was given for that; God uses us to help each other so, Lending our minds out.... This world's no blot for us Nor blank; it means intensely, and means good: To find its meaning is my meat and drink."
This monologue, while only a fragment of simple conversation, touches those profound moments which only an artist can realize, and unfolds the real essence of a character.
Abrupt beginnings are very common in monologues, but the student will find that these are often the easiest to master. They can be easily interpreted by dramatic instinct. There is always a situation, dramatic in proportion to the abruptness of the beginning, and a few glances will fasten attention upon the real theme. The monologue will never stir one who desires long preliminary chapters of descriptions before the real story is opened, but one with true dramatic imagination can easily make a sudden plunge into the very midst of life and action.