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weakest and most cowardly: at one time, impressed with a feeling of melancholy. devout and rational, at another, a fierce Indeed, the lighter parts of the play, and profane babbler: now an ardent consisting more of wit than of humour, lover, and now a heartless insulter of excite rather wonder at the sharp turns, the woman he had professed to love: lively sallies, and fierce retorts of a stung now prompt in action to rashness, and spirit, than any broad and genial laughter. now slow to indolence and fatuity: now He says, that "some scenes neither fora counterfeit of madness, and now really ward nor retard the action." This we insane: now the most cunning, and now may grant; but are not these in fine the most careless of men: now a rogue, keeping with the "slow, reluctant" delay now a fool, now a wise man, and now a of the hero? Shakspere must linger, in heterogeneous compound of all three. sympathy with Hamlet. Nay, this was Twenty theories have been propounded of sometimes, as we have seen, the manner him; all have been plausibly based on par- of the poet. An inspired loiterer, he ticular points in his character; and yet no now and then leans over some beautiful theory hitherto is entirely, or even approxi- stream, or pauses at some fine point of mately, complete: each is serviceable chiefly prospect, or strikes into some brief byin blowing out the one immediately be- way of humour, or character, or pathos, fore itself: and still Hamlet seems, as he even when his day's journey, and the stands, shrouded and shifting to every day itself, are both drawing to a close. breath, to say to his critics, as he said For why? He was a man, not a railto Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, "You way machine; and, besides, as his soul would play upon me; you would seem to had its habitual dwelling in summer, his know my stops; you would pluck out days were all long. the heart of my mystery; you would He says, that "Hamlet was an instrusound me from the lowest note to the ment rather than an agent," but suggests top of my compass; and there is much no reason why Shakspere has made him music, excellent voice, in this little organ, so. He charges, finally, the play with yet cannot you make it speak." a lack of poetical justice and poetical We happen at present to have beside probability. The apparition left the reus only two of those twenty "soundings," gions of the dead to little purpose. The and beg leave to say something of them, revenge which he demands is not obtained ere propounding our own view. The but by the death of him who is required first is that of Dr Johnson. It comes, to take it; and the gratification which as Hamlet would say, "trippingly off the would arise from the destruction of a tongue," and is written with more than usurper and a murderer is abated by the his usual careless rotundity and lazy death of Ophelia, the young and beautielaboration of style. It commences by ful, the harmless and the pious." But, praising, very properly, the "variety" of first, the apparition's object was gained the play. But what does the doctor-the ghost did not leave the grave in mean by the "merriment" it excites? vain-the murderer was detected, and Surely it is "very tragical mirth." Even died; and, secondly, Shakspere probably in the laughter of this drama its heart consulted something higher than our is sad. Hamlet and a gravedigger are "gratification." He sought, probably, the two jesters! And while the wit of the broad moral purpose we have already the one is wild, reckless, turbulent, like expressed; and, if questioned as to poetithe glee of the damned, that of the other cal justice, might have replied in words has a death-rattle in its throat, and, re- similar to those of Scott-perhaps the turned to us on the echoes of the grave, noblest passage, in a moral point of view, produces an unspeakably dreary effect. in all that writer's works-"A character Dr Johnson adds, "the pretended mad- of a lofty stamp is degraded, rather than ness of Hamlet causes much mirth." This exalted, by an attempt to reward virtue we question. At least us it has always with temporal prosperity. Such is not

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the recompense which Providence has actions and others seem to prove him deemed worthy of suffering merit, and it endowed with the "Nemean lion's nerve;" is a dangerous and fatal doctrine, that and, although he more than once charges rectitude of conduct and of principle are himself with cowardice, yet this occurs either naturally allied with, or adequately always in passages where he seems to be rewarded by, the gratification of our pas-beating about in search of causes for his sions, or attainment of our wishes. In a conduct, and to be lashing himself, by word, if a virtuous and self-denied cha- imaginary arguments, into rage. Nor racter is dismissed with temporal wealth, does Shakspere wish to represent him as greatness, or rank, the reader will be apt peculiarly delicate and tender. He seems to say, Verily, virtue has had its re- rather an oak than a flower-jar, though ward.' But a glance at the great picture it be an oak shaken by the wind. No of life will show that duty is seldom thus namby-pamby sentimentalist had he ever remunerated." And what is true of the been, but a brave, strong man, whose meapportionment of the gifts of Providence lancholy and exasperation bring forth, in is true also of its evils. It were degrad- tumultuous profusion, the excessive riches ing to a lofty character, not only to enrich of a prematurely thoughtful and very it with uniform good fortune, but to give powerful soul. His is manifestly no it an unnatural insulation from the great weakly elegant and graceful nature unand wide ruin which is produced by guilt. hinged; but a strong, rarely-gifted, and We pass to Goethe's far more cele- bold spirit, in anguish, uncertainty, aberbrated account of "Hamlet," of which ration, and despair. Though there were the "Edinburgh Review" declares, that no other evidence, the vigour and tact there is "nothing so good in all our own discovered in the trick passed upon Rocommentators-nothing at once so poetical, so feeling, and so just." After a beautiful picture of Hamlet's original character, and a paraphrase of his story, Goethe says, "to me it is clear that Shakspere meant to represent the effects of a great action laid upon a soul unfit for the performance of it." And then follows the well-known and exquisitely-beautiful figure:- An oak-tree is planted in a costly jar, which should have borne only pleasant flowers in its bosom: the roots expand, the jar is shivered. A lovely, pure, noble, and most moral nature, with-swayed always by intelligible motives, and out the strength of nerve which forms a hero, sinks beneath a burden which it cannot bear, and must not cast away." This is very fine, but is it true? Does it open the lock of Hamlet's character? Does it account for all, or for the most, of the mysteries connected with it?

Now, we do not find any proofs that Hamlet was peculiarly weak of nerve; nay, we find many proofs to the contrary. Did he not front his father's spirit in arms? Did he not rebuke his mother, and pink old Polonius, mistaking him for his uncle? Did he not bravely confront Laertes, and at last stab the king? These

sencrantz and Guildenstern, in sending them to be executed instead of himself, prove that he was an energetic and not a feeble character. So that, although Goethe has extracted "music" from this strange instrument, he has not "plucked out" the heart of its mystery.

Let us now come to state our own impressions, which we do not propound as dogmatically certain, but simply as highly probable.

First, then, we do not think that Shakspere ever intended Hamlet for a thoroughly consistent and regular character,

adjusted, in his actions, either according to fixed principles or to steady currents of passion. He meant to show us a mind of great general powers and warm passions, liable to every species of whim and caprice, and at last, through the force of melancholy and mingling circumstances, partially unhinged-aware, however, of this, and with astuteness enough to turn the real aberration into a means for sup plying evidence for the existence of the assumed. Such a nondescript being, hovering between the worlds of reality and insane dream, Shakspere chose, that he might survey mankind from a new and

VOL. I.-C

strange angle, and through a medium by the whirling current of events, but which should bring out more forcibly the breaks out at last, like a furnace, at her mysterious contrasts of human life. Ham- grave. So, too, with his desire for venlet is a being all but loosened from hu- geance on his father's murderer. It has manity, whom we see bursting tie after lighted, not as Goethe has it, on a feeble, tie which had bound him to his kind, and but on a flighty nature; the oak is not in surveying them at last almost from an a tiny jar, it is planted in a broad field, ideal altitude. He is a "chartered liber- but a field where there is not much tine," with method in his madness, and "depth of earth," and where many other with madness in his method, and who, trees growing beside draw a portion of whether he rushes or pauses on his un- that depth away. It is not the want of certain path-now with the rush of the nerve: he could kill the king, in a mocataract above, and now with the pause mentary impulse, as he killed Polonius, of the deep pool below-is sure to dash a but he cannot form or pursue any strong strong and lawless light upon the sub- and steady plan for his destruction; if jects or the persons he encounters. He that plan, at least, required time for its becomes thus a quaint and mighty mask, development. Other feelings, too, interfrom behind which Shakspere speaks out fere with its accomplishment. There is sentiments which he could not else have at times in his mind a reluctance to the so freely disclosed; and-shall we say?-task, as a work of butchery-the butchery the great dramatist has used Hamlet as of an uncle and a stepfather. Regard Turpin did Black Bess-he has drenched for his mother's feelings, and the consehim with the wine of demi-derangement, quences to result on her, is no stranger and then accomplished his perilous ride. to his soul, and serves to cool his ardour Secondly, Hamlet's conduct is entirely and to excuse his delay. The desire of what might have been expected from the vengeance never, in short, becomes the construction of his mind, and the effect main and master passion of his mind, and sad circumstances have produced upon this simply, because that powerful but him. He is "everything by turns, and morbid and jangled mind is incapable of nothing long." No deep passion of any a master passion, and of the execution of kind can root itself in his mind, although a fixed purpose. One consistency only is a hundred passions pass and repass, and there in Hamlet's character, that of subtle rage and subside within his soul. He and poetic intellect. This penetrates with well speaks of himself as consisting of its searching light every nook and corner divers "parts." His very convictions are of the play, follows him through all the not profound. He at first implicitly be- windings of his course, unites in some lieves the word of the ghost as to his measure the contradictory passions which uncle's guilt, but afterwards his belief roll and fluctuate around him, inspirits falters, and he has to be reassured by the his language into eloquence, wit, and wismatter of the play. The mask of total dom, and makes him the facile princeps madness he snatches up, wears con amore of Shakspere's fools those illustrious for awhile, and then wearies of it, and personages who "never say a foolish thing, drops it, and then resumes it again. This, and never do a wise one." Such a "foretoo, explains his conduct to Ophelia. He most fool of all this world," with brilliant loves her; but his love, or its expression, powers, uncertain will, and "scattery' yields for a time to the paroxysm of the purposes and passions, is Hamlet the passions excited by the ghost; it returns, Dane, as, at least, he appears to us after like a demon who had been dismissed, in much and careful pondering of his chasevenfold force, and he rushes into her racter. Throw into the crucible strong apartment, and goes through antics, partly intellect, vivid fancy, irregular will, flucto sustain his assumed character of mad-tuating courage, impulsive and inconstant ness, but principally as the wild outcome feelings, an excitable heart, a melancholy of real love; his passion is again overlaid temperament, and add to these the da

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maging, weakening, yet infuriating influ- throughout, which must be familiar to all. ences of a father's murder, a mother's There is the picture of man, in his strange marriage, the visit of a ghost, an unsettled contrarieties of wormhood and godhood passion for Ophelia, the meddling inter- his head of gold, and his feet of mir ference of a weak father-in-law, the spec- clay-compacted out of all contradictions, tacle of a disturbed and degraded coun- and who-even as the Andes include in try, the feeling of his own incapacity for their sweep, from the ocean below to the fixed resolve or permanent energy of pas- hoary head of Chimborazo above, all clision, and from this wierd mixture there mates, seasons, and productions of earthwill come out a Hamlet, in all his strength touches, as he ascends, all conditions of and weakness, wisdom and folly, energetic being, and runs parallel to all the gradacommencements, and lame and impotent tions of the universe. Pascal, Herbert, conclusions, insane and aimless fury, and Young, and Pope, have written in emustrong, sudden gleams of resolution and lous and eloquent antithesis on the same valour, vain and sounding bombast, and theme; but they all pale before this one clear, terse, and inspired eloquence. What expression of Hamlet's (after a matchless weakness he has does not lie so much in enumeration of man's noble qualities)— any one part of his mind, as in the want "this quintessence of dust." Where in liof proper management and grasp of his terature such an anti-climax; such a jerkpowers as a whole. Partially insane he ing down of proud pretensions; such two is, but his insanity is the reverse of a worlds of description and satire condensed monomania; it arises from the confusion into two words? This, and many other and too rapid succession of moods and expressions here, and in other of Shakfeelings, which he cannot consolidate into spere's works, prove what an accusing a whole, or press into one strong, narrow spirit, what a myriad-arined and tongued current, running on to his purpose misanthrope, he might have been! But a soured Shakspere is a thought difficult to be entertained.

"As the Pontick sea To the Propontick and the Hellespont." The two famous soliloquies, again, seem Is it too much to call him a sublime and "God's canon against self-slaughter" versententious, an earnest and eloquent fool? sified. They have, we doubt not, deterred Yet it is clear that Shakspere had a many a rash spirit from suicide. If they peculiar and profound sympathy with do not oppose it upon the highest ground, Hamlet. He lingers beside him long. they do it on one generally intelligible He lavishes all his wealth upon him. He and powerful. The prayer of the guilty seems to love to look out at mankind king is worth a thousand dull homilies on through the strange window of those wild the subject. It points to the everlasting eyes. Was this because Hamlet was (as distinction between a sinful and a sinner's is generally supposed) the child of his prayer. The advice of Polonius to his mature age, or was it from a certain son is full of practical wisdom; but, owing fellow-feeling? Hamlet is what Shak- to the contrast with the frozen stupidity spere would have been, had he ever been of the man from whom it comes, reminds thoroughly soured, and had that magnifi- us of a half-melted and streaming mass of cent head of his ever begun to reel and ice. The irony and quaint moral which totter. Had Shakspere, like Swift, John- gild and glare on the skull in the graveson, Byron, and Scott, a fear of "dying yard, till it seems to glare and chatter in a-top," and has he shot out that awful fear return, are in keeping with the wild story into his impersonation of the Prince of Den- and wilder characters, but are not devoid mark, and thus relieved and carried it off? of edifying instruction to those who can The general moral of the play has been surpass the first shudder of disgust. And stated above; but there are besides num- the character and fate of Ophelia convey, berless minor morals, as well as separate in the most plaintive manner, a still tenbeauties, scattered in golden sentences derer and more delicate lesson

Surely Shakspere was the greatest and ocean, Johnson's "Preface to Shakspere" most humane of all mere moralists. See- (excellent so far as it goes), Hazlitt's ing more clearly than mere man ever saw "Characters of Shakspere's Plays," Schleinto the evils of human nature and the gel's "Lectures on Dramatic Literature," corruptions of society, into the natural Mrs Jameson on Shakspere's Female weakness and the acquired vice of man, Characters, and an admirable series which he can yet lɔve, pity, forget his anger, and appeared in "Black wood," entitled "Shakclothe him in the mellow light of his spere in Germany." genius, like the sun, who, in certain days I close by claiming a high place for of peculiar balm and beauty, seems to this poet among the benefactors of shed his beams, like an amnesty, upon all his kind. With august philanthropists, beings. But we must not forget that Howard or Wilberforce, we may not class Shakspere is no pattern for us-that this him. Into that seventh heaven of invenvery generosity of heart seems, we fear, to tion, where Milton and Dante dwelt, he have blinded him to the special character came only sometimes, not for want of and adaptations of the Christian scheme power, but because his sphere was a wider -and that we, as Christians, and not and larger one-he had business to do in mere philanthropists, are bound, while the veins of the earth as well as in the pitying the guilty, to do indignant and azure depth of air. But if force of genius incessant battle against that giant Some--sympathy with every form and every thing, or Someone rather, which slew our Saviour, and which has all but ruined our

race.

I have dwelt so long on "Hamlet," that I must now hurry to a close.

With regard to Shakspere's critics and commentators, I will not say, with Hazlitt, that "if you would see the greatness of human genius, read Shakspere; if you would see the smallness of human learning, read his commentators." But I will say, that I have learned more of Shakspere from Hazlitt, than from any other quarter, except from Shakspere himself.

In preparing these cursory remarks upon Shakspere, I have studiously avoided re-reading any works upon the subject. I may, however, recommend to those who wish to sail out farther upon this great

feeling of humanity-the heart of a man united to the imagination of a poet, and wielding the Briarean hands of a demigod-if the writing of thirty-two plays which are colouring to this hour the literature of the world—if the diffusion of harmless happiness in immeasurable quantity--if the stimulation of innumerable minds-if the promotion of the spirit of charity and of universal brotherhood-it these constitute for mortal man titles to the name of benefactor, and to that praise which ceases not with the sun, but expands into immortality, the name and the praise must support the throne which Shakspere has established over the minds of the inhabitants of an earth which may be known in other parts of the universe as "Shakspere's world."

JOHN MILTON.

PERHAPS Some who were astonished at our venturing to write on Shakspere, may be still more so at the subject now selected-John Milton. Can anything new, that is true-or true, that is new, be said on such a theme? Have not the ages been gazing upon this "mighty orb of song" as at the sun? and have

not almost all its gifted admirers ut tered each his glowing panegyric, till now they seem to be ranged like planetary bodies round his central blaze? What more can be said or sung? Is it not impossible to add to, however easy to diminish, our sense of his greatness? Is not the ambition rash and presumptuous which

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