guage of Hamlet to Ophelia in this scene are both repulsive: it is not enough to blame the coarseness of the times for such blemishes in the works of one who, in general, was pureminded. I think some explanation of Hamlet's revolting language may be found, if we presume that my interpretation. of the former scene (Act III, Sc. 1) was a correct one. Hamlet has ceased to respect Ophelia after detecting her in a deliberate lie; he may exaggerate the disrespect which mortification induced him to show towards her, for the purpose of impressing the King and Queen, and still more the courtiers, with the idea that he was scarcely responsible for his actions; at any rate this short dialogue serves to enhance the sweet purity and innocence of Ophelia's character; and as all the offensive portion of it can be omitted from representation without any injury to the interest of the play, we need not dwell any further upon it. The course of the play represented before the Court is interrupted by a few short and striking sentences between Hamlet and the King and Queen. The King begins to suspect the gist of the play. Is there no offence in't? he asks of Hamlet, to which he answers No, no, they do but jest, poison in jest. By a great effort of self-restraint Hamlet preserves the same quiet tone of bitter irony throughout, while his eyes cannot be diverted, even by the beautiful face of Ophelia, from their fixed watchfulness of the King. The poisoner in the play represented is the nephew of the king; this, I think, is no accident; by making the relation the same as between himself and Claudius, Hamlet adds one more to the many strokes of irony directed against his uncle. While the mimic poisoner is in the very act of pouring the poison into the sleeping king's ear on the stage, Hamlet half rises from his recumbent attitude and thus explains the incident: He poisons him i' the garden for his estate. His name's Gonzago; the story is extant, and written in very choice Italian: you shall see anon how the murderer gets the love of Gonzago's wife. At this point most of the actors, that I have seen in the part of Hamlet, are wont to execute what I must venture to call the most vulgar piece of melodramatic absurdity which can be conceived. They crawl on their hands and knees from the feet of Ophelia to the King, whilst the poisoner is speaking his short speech on the stage; they then scream, or rant, in * the King's ear these words, in such a manner as to justify any respectable and sane member of the Court of Denmark in conducting Hamlet to the nearest dungeon. Tradition, deriving itself from Edmund Kean, is said to justify this astonishing piece of business (technically so called); but not every actor, much less every man, is an Edmund Kean, and what may have appeared natural and effective in him, certainly appears quite the contrary in his imitators. To me it seems an error from the actor's point of view, for surely it would be much more effective, as well as natural, that Hamlet should not abandon himself to the intensity of his excitement until he is alone with Horatio, which he is a few moments afterwards, when he bursts into that wild song of triumph Why, let the stricken deer go weep, The hart ungalled play; For some must watch, while some must sleep : Any licence may be allowed to the actor now; exulting in the success of his scheme, Hamlet gives way to an excitement almost hysterical. His satirical humour shows itself in the midst of this exultation, in fact he uses it here, as in many other instances, partly as a veil to conceal the depth of his feelings; he calls for music because the tension of his nerves is becoming too great to bear; but before the recorders, or small flutes, can be brought, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern re-enter, and Hamlet speedily regains his self-possession in the presence of the two courtiers, whose demeanour is so much changed as to verge almost on insolence. The dignified sarcasm which Hamlet displays in this scene shows that, when he chose, his self-command was as complete as that of the sanest person; although he tells them that his wit is diseased, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern must have felt that the rebuke the prince administers to their disrespectful familiarity proves the disease had not affected its vigour. Plausible as are their professions of love, Hamlet's keen insight into character, a quality which we often find coupled with the eccentricity of intellectual natures, at once divines that they are in reality playing him false. The entry of Polonius gives him an opportunity of indulging in mischievous banter of the unfortunate Lord Chamberlain; his expression— They fool me to the top of my bent, shows how he enjoys the joke. Directly he is alone, he is again serious, proving that, amidst all the wild humour in which he indulges his overburdened mind, he never entirely * See Appendix G. forgets that great purpose which he has in view; he braces up his nerves for the interview with his mother, and once more he seems on the point of that decisive action which would fulfil the solemn duty that his father's spirit has imposed on him. We come now to a scene rarely, if ever, represented on the stage, but which forms a foundation for the most plausible attacks that have been made on the character of Hamlet. The King informs Rosencrantz and Guildenstern that they must prepare for immediate departure to England in company with Hamlet The terms of our estate may not endure They answer in a most becoming spirit of obedience: to them, who ever wore the crown and kingly robes, let them adorn what villany they might, wore the same title to respect and implicit obedienee which the dignity of virtue alone should command. When the King is by himself, he gives expression to that remorse which was secretly preying on his heart. The distinction between repentance and remorse is most clearly and beautifully drawn But O, what form of prayer Of those effects for which I did the murder, My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen. O limed soul, that struggling to be free Art more engaged! Help, angels! make assay ! All may be well." While he is kneeling in the agony of prayer which is stifled by the consciousness of its insincerity, Hamlet enters unseen by the King; he then speaks the lines which certainly betray a spirit of diabolical revenge. No doubt commentators have not ransacked contemporary literature of that day in vain for instances of similar ferocity; the desire had been expressed by more than one vindictive nature to kill the soul as well as the body. I need not point out to you how impotent such malice is; man may slay his fellow-man unprepared, or even, as in some instances quoted, with a blasphemous denial of God on his lips, extorted from him through fear of death; but the ultimate fate of the soul is in the hands of God alone. The very extravagance of the idea may have struck Shakespeare, and he may have purposely put these horrible words into Hamlet's mouth to show the excess of vindictiveness to which his thoughts would go, out of defiance, as it were, of the timid inertness of his action. Violence of language is not uncommonly found in highly sensitive natures; but very rarely in such natures, except in the moment of extreme passion, is it supplemented by violent deeds. Complete as his conviction of the King's guilt now must be, in face of the opportunity, in sight of the man himself tortured with the agonies of a guilty conscience, Hamlet shrinks from striking the fatal blow. He knows himself, that deliberate murder-murder committed, not in the heat and fury of passion, but with sufficient leisure to allow of reflection, though justified, ever so strongly, by what we may call the natural laws of vengeance-is an act of which he is incapable. The ghost's solemn exhortation to revenge may be ringing in his ears; in thought he is more than capable, in deed he is incapable of executing it; and so he indulges in this discussion with himself, in which, affecting a bloody-mindedness that he could not really feel, he excuses himself for once more putting off the time of action. The reason which he alleges at the end of his speech probably weighed more strongly with him than he was inclined to allow; he had yet to try and wake his mother's conscience; that was a task much more congenial to his nature, much more within his capacity. I do not go so far as to deny that this speech of Hamlet's is revolting to our feelings; it savours of an age when bloodshed and violence were unhappily familiar; it is consistent with the state of rude and imperfect civilisation which existed in the time of which this play treats; it must be admitted as one of the blemishes inseparable from all human work; but I do venture to assert that Shakespeare did not intend us to believe that these horrid sentiments were entertained with any seriousness by the mind of Hamlet.* We come now to the scene known as the "closet scene," which concludes the third act, and is, perhaps, for more reasons * See Appendix H. than one, the most important in the play. The death of Polonius at the hands of Hamlet leads not only to the madness and suicide of Ophelia, but to the final catastrophe of the tragedy. There are three questions involved in this scene which have occasioned much controversy-first, the conduct of Hamlet to his mother; secondly, the amount of guilt with which he is chargeable for the accidental murder of Polonius; and thirdly, how far the Queen was accessory to the murder of her first husband. On all the questions, I hope, by careful examination of the text itself, to throw some light. We must imagine the Queen in her closet, or oratory; behind the arras which covers the walls Polonius is concealed, ready to hear how Hamlet answers his mother when she takes him roundly to task for his conduct towards his uncle-father. Polonius, by the way, had probably no suspicion of foul play in the case of the elder Hamlet's death; while, as to Gertrude's speedy marriage with her brother-in-law, the political reasons alleged for it would have been quite sufficient excuse, in the old courtier's eyes, for the indecent haste, or the disregard of consanguinity manifested in such a marriage; even supposing that, in his eyes, the King could do any wrong. When, therefore, the Lord Chamberlain counsels the Queen thus Look you lay home to him: Tell him his pranks have been too broad to bear with, he thinks that he is giving very excellent and highly moral advice; nor does it occur to him, for one moment, that the eccentric prince, at whose pranks he is so scandalised, may turn the tables upon his august mother. In fact, we may take it for granted that the conduct of Polonius is open to no graver imputations than those of servility and meddlesomeness, faults for which he is too severely punished. The time is night, and the hour very near that in which his father's ghost first appeared to Hamlet. His first words are those of assumed indifference→→→ HAM. Now, mother, what's the matter? Qu. Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended. He at once shows her that he has not come to be rebuked, but to rebuke. HAM. Mother, you have my father much offended. * |