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Some Remarks on the Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, Written by Mr. William Shakespeare (1736) by Anonymous - Some Remarks on the Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, Written by Mr. William Shakespeare (1736)

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Some Remarks on the Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, Written by Mr. William Shakespeare (1736)

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Title: Some Remarks on the Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, Written by Mr. William Shakespeare (1736)

Author: Anonymous

Release Date: February 4, 2005 [EBook #14899]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOME REMARKS ON THE TRAGEDY OF HAMLET ***

Produced by David Starner, Graeme Mackreth, David King, and the PG Online Distributed Proofreading Team

Series Three:

_Essays on the Stage_

No. 3

Anonymous [attributed to Thomas Hanmer], _Some Remarks on the Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, Written by Mr. William Shakespeare_ (1736).

With an Introduction by Clarence D. Thorpe

and

a Bibliographical Note

The Augustan Reprint Society September, 1947 _Price_: 75c

_GENERAL EDITORS_ RICHARD C. BOYS, _University of Michigan_ EDWARD NILES HOOKER, _University of California, Los Angeles_ H.T. SWEDENBERG, JR., _University of California, Los Angeles_

_ADVISORY EDITORS_ EMMETT L. AVERY, _State College of Washington_ LOUIS I. BREDVOLD, _University of Michigan_ BENJAMIN BOYCE, _University of Nebraska_ CLEANTH BROOKS, _Louisiana State University_ JAMES L. CLIFFORD, _Columbia University_ ARTHUR FRIEDMAN, _University of Chicago_ SAMUEL H. MONK, _University of Minnesota_ JAMES SUTHERLAND, _Queen Mary College, London_

Lithoprinted from copy supplied by author by Edwards Brothers, Inc. Ann Arbor, Michigan, U.S.A. 1947

INTRODUCTION

The identity of the “Anonymous” of _Some Remarks on Hamlet Prince of Denmark_ has never been established. The tradition that Hanmer wrote the essay had its highly dubious origin in a single unsupported statement by Sir Henry Bunbury, made over one hundred years after the work was written, in his _Correspondence of Sir Thomas Hanmer, with a Memoir of His Life_ (London, 1838), to the effect that he had reason to believe that Hanmer was the author. The evidence against this bare surmise is such, however, as to compel assent to Professor Lounsbury's judgment that Hanmer's authorship “is so improbable that it may be called impossible” (_Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist_, 60). I have elsewhere set down reasons for my own belief that Hanmer could have had nothing to do with the composition of the essay, arguing on grounds of ideas, attitudes, style, and other internal evidence (“Thomas Hanmer and the Anonymous Essay on _Hamlet_,” _MLN_61 [1934], 493-498). Without going over the case again, I wish here merely to reaffirm my conviction that Hanmer was not the author, and to say that it would seem that the difference in styles and the attitude of Anonymous toward Pope and Theobald are alone convincing proof that Hanmer had no part in the _Remarks_. Hanmer's style is stiff, formal, pedantic; the style of the essay is free, easy, direct, more in the Addison manner. Hanmer was a disciple of Pope's, and in his Preface to his Shakespeare and in his edition as a whole shows allegiance to Pope. Anonymous, on the contrary, decisively, though urbanely, rejects Pope's edition in favor of Theobald's text and notes. The fact that Theobald was at that time still the king of dunces in the _Dunciad_, adds to the improbability that an admirer of Pope's, as Hanmer certainly was, would pay Theobald such honor.

Most careful scholars of our day go no further on the question of authorship than to note that the essay has been “attributed” to Hanmer; some, like Professor Stoll, seem to have dropped the idea that Hanmer was in any way connected with it and safely speak of “the author” or “the anonymous author”; I recall only one case in recent years of an all-out, incautious assignment of the authorship to Hanmer (“Hamlet among the Mechanists,” _Shakespeare Association Bulletin_ 17 [July, 1942], 138). It would seem advisable to follow Stoll's lead and ignore Hanmer entirely.

The anonymous essay has been of continued interest to students of Shakespeare. Echoes of its ideas if not its words appear in such later critics of the eighteenth century as Gentleman, Steevens, Richardson, and Morgann; in 1790 Malone copied out some two pages of the best of it for publication; and in 1864 the whole was reprinted, a not too usual thing for an obscure eighteenth century pamphlet. Present-day students of Shakespeare, among them D.N. Smith, Lounsbury, Babcock, Lawrence, and Stoll have treated the essay with unvarying respect. Remarking that it anticipates some of Johnson's arguments, Smith calls it in general a “well-written, interesting book” greatly superior to the anonymous essay on Hamlet of 1752 (_Eighteenth Century Essays on Shakespeare_, xxn). Lawrence has recently praised a selected passage for its “wise words ... which may be pondered with profit” (Hamlet and Fortinbras, _PMLA_61 [1946], 697). And Stoll, who has obviously read the book with care, has found in one of its statements the very “beginning of historical criticism” (PQ 24 [1945], 291; _Shakespeare Studies_, 212n.), and has elsewhere seen much to commend in it.

Reasons for such attention are not difficult to find; for the _Remarks_ is both intrinsically and historically an important piece of criticism. It is still worth reading for more than one passage of discerning analysis and apt comment on scene, speech, or character, and for certain not unfruitful excursions into the field of general aesthetics; while historically it is a sort of landmark in Shakespearian literature. Standing chronologically almost midway between Dryden and Johnson, Kames, and Richardson, the _Remarks_ shows decisively the direction in which criticism, under the steadily mounting pressure of liberal, empirical thought, is traveling. This little unpretentious book gathers into itself, either in faint adumbration or in fairly advanced form, the tendencies in method and ideas that are to remake criticism in the eighteenth century. There are reflected here the growing distrust of the “Rules” and the deepening faith in mind as the measure and in imagination as the instrument. There is also added recognition of the integrity of effects as a factor in judging literature.

Anonymous is an earlier member of the School of Taste. He is none-the-less concerned with firm principles by which to justify his acceptances and rejections. His announced over-all rule is conformity to “Reason and Nature”--old words that he uses in the newer way. But he is also handily equipped with a stock of stubbornly conservative principles, reaching at times the status of bias, that serve to hold his taste in balance and effectively check unrestrained admiration.

This conservative side of Anonymous must not pass unnoticed, for it is the part of him that most closely identifies him with his forebears and so throws his more original, independent side into stronger relief. Our author is, not unexpectedly, an invariable moralist; is throughout a stickler for dignity; is sensitive to absurdities, improprieties, and slips in decorum; will have no truck with tragi-comedy in any of its forms. He hates puns and bombast, demands refinement in speech and restraint in manners. He regards Hamlet's speeches to Ophelia in the Player scene as a violation of propriety, is shocked by the lack of decency in the representation of Ophelia's madness, finds Hamlet's frequent levity and the buffoonery of Polonius alike regrettable --Shakespeare's favorite foible, he feels, is “that of raising a laugh.” The introduction of Fortinbras and his army on the stage is “an Absurdity”; the grave-diggers' scene is “very unbecoming to tragedy”; the satire on the “Children of the Chapel” is not allowable in this kind of piece.

In all these things Anonymous is an upholder of the tradition of true, restrained wit. But unlike some of his contemporaries, he has a formula for discounting faults. “But we should be very cautious in finding Fault with Men of such exalted Genius as our Author certainly was, lest we should blame them when in reality the Fault lies in our own slow Conceptions ...” This is the language of tolerance, a tolerance that can overlook faults for the sake of greater beauties--one of the distinct marks of the new criticism to which the _Remarks_ belongs.

The essay starts out in a boldly challenging tone. Criticism, says the author, has been badly abused: it has been regarded as an excuse for the ill-natured to find fault or for the better-natured to eulogize. But true criticism has for its end “to set in the best light all Beauties, and to touch upon Defects no more than is necessary.” Beyond this it seeks to set up a right taste for the age. His own purpose is to examine a great tragedy “according to the Rules of Reason and Nature, without having any regard to those Rules established by arbitrary Dogmatizing Critics ...” More specifically, he proposes to show the why of our pleasure in this piece: “And as to those things which charm by a certain secret Force, and strike us we know not how, or why; I believe it will not be disagreeable, if I shew to everyone the Reason why they are pleas'd ...” This, it need hardly be observed, is all pretty much in the vein of Addison, whom the author extols and whose papers on _Paradise Lost_, he tells us, have furnished a model for the present undertaking. Throughout his criticism Addison had deprecated mere fault-finding and had urged the positive approach of emphasis on beauties. In the last twelve essays on Milton's poem he had shown a new way in critical writing, the way of particular as opposed to general criticism, with the selection of specific details for praise and explication; in his essay on the Imagination he had sought to find a rationale for that kind of criticism: in which a man of true taste, going beyond the mechanical rules, “would enter into the very Spirit and Soul of Fine Writing, and shew us the several Sources of that Pleasure which rises in the Mind upon the Perusal of a Noble Work.” With such ideas in mind, Anonymous proceeds to study _Hamlet_, in what is probably the first act-by-act, scene-by-scene analysis of a play in English, according to his understanding of the principles of the “new criticism” as he finds them illustrated in Addison's theory and practice.

Having brushed aside the “fantastick Rules” of the conventional critics, he proceeds to apply his laws of “Reason and Nature” as criteria by which to test the validity of Shakespeare's effects and to discover the cause of these effects. The results he achieves are in part conditioned by his interpretation of his basic terms. Reason and Nature had been invoked by many previous critics; but to Anonymous these words are not what they were to Boileau and Pope. They particularly have nothing, or next to nothing, to do with the Deistic concept of a universal nature of external diversity but of an internal rational and universal order, which art reveals and to which art at its best conforms. To Anonymous, who in this is following the lead of the Hobbian school, the nature that is the norm by which Shakespeare is to be judged is merely human nature, used as Whately, Richardson, and Morgann are to use it later, and as Johnson uses it when he argues that there is an appeal open from custom to nature. Anonymous' interest is in the way the mind works and the way people customarily act. So also when he talks about reason, he is thinking only of what is acceptable to a logical, healthy mind. He has no thought of identifying nature or reason with the traditional Rules or with Homer. On the contrary, he is willing to set both of them quite apart from, or even in opposition to the Rules (with a qualifying concession that they may sometimes meet), and he definitely renounces obligation to show that Shakespeare bears any relation to the ancients whatever, denying at the same time the value of the customary shows of learning in discussing his work. For Shakespeare apparently drew little from the authors of antiquity: “Nature was our great Poet's Mistress; her alone has he followed as his Conductress.”

Such a view is emancipatory. Free the critic from the idea that nature and the ancients are the same and that reason and the laws ascribed to the ancients are identical, and he is ready to look at modern literature with an independent judgment and to see what it is like and what it is worth in and by itself. Release the critic from the necessity of regarding nature as universal order and reason as the directive of this order, and, whatever the loss in philosophic concept, he is ready for a more specific and particular investigation that turns its attention to basic human behavior and the basic ways of the mind as the criterion by which to judge artistic representation. No need now for quaint parallels with the ancients to justify modern practice, nor for scholarly arguments to prove learning; all that is required is to prove adherence to common nature and common rationality. This is the ground upon which Anonymous stands, and it is the ground upon which Morgann is to stand when he gives us the “Falstaff of Nature,” and Johnson when he presents Shakespeare as the dramatist who is “above all modern writers the poet of nature,” whose “persons act and speak by the influence of those general passions by which all minds are agitated,” whose “drama is the mirror of life,” in which his readers may find “human sentiments in human language,” whose practices are to be judged not by appeal to the rules of criticism, but by reference to the author's design and the great law of nature and reason.

This position opens the way for further advances. Thus, beginning with the assumption that the mind of the spectator or the reader is the chief arbiter in such matters, Anonymous gives us what is perhaps the most enlightened comment on probability and illusion to be found in the period between Dryden and Coleridge. His test for probability is what the imagination will readily accept; and the imagination, he says, will bear a “strong Imposition.” Reason, to be sure, demands that actions and speeches shall be “natural”--but natural within the framework of the situation and character as established by the dramatist on the imaginative level. The author's words on illusion recall the passage in Dryden about reason's suffering itself to be “hoodwinked” by imaginative presentation, foreshadow Coleridge's “willing suspension of disbelief,” and directly suggest Johnson's passages on the subject. Experience will show, he says, “that no Dramatick Piece can affect us but by the Delusion of our Imagination; which, to taste true and real Pleasures at such Representations, must undergo a very great Imposition.” For example, on our stage all nations speak English, and shock no one; also the actors are recognized as actors and not as the persons represented, and the stage as a stage and not Rome, or Denmark. Without such imposition “farewell all Dramatick Performances.”

And then, in continuation of this pre-Johnsonian (and pre-Coleridgean) argument he goes on to say that delusion must be accepted, never, however, in defiance of our reason but with the approval of our reason. That Shakespeare's plays create delusion with the assistance of reason is proved by the success they have so long enjoyed. Sublimity of sentiments, exalted diction, and “in short all the Charms of his Poetry, far outweigh any little absurdities in his Plots.” He knew how to work up “great and moving Circumstances in such a Way as to affect our Passions strongly.” The word used here throughout is _delusion_, but the sense, just as is largely the case with Johnson, is _illusion_--not a demand for such a verisimilitude as will deceive, but for such representation as will lead the imagination to voluntary, pleasurable acceptance.

Likewise, when Anonymous considers unity his emphasis, like Johnson's and Hurd's, is no longer on the mechanical unities but on unity of design. “When Shakespeare's plan is understood most of the criticisms of Rymer and Voltaire vanish away,” Johnson was to write some thirty years later. Anonymous holds steadily for the integrity of Shakespeare's plan in Hamlet. Of Act I, iii he says, “Concerning the Design of this scene, we shall find it is necessary towards the whole plot of the Play”; he speaks of I, iv as an “important Scene, on which turns the Whole Play”; the killing of Polonious, he explains, “was in Conformity to the Plan _Shakespeare_ built his Play upon”; and finally, of the piece as a whole, he asserts that “there is not one Scene but what some way or other conduces toward the _Denoument_ of the Whole; and thus the Unity of Action is indisputably kept up by everything tending to what we may call the main Design, and it all hangs by Consequence so close together, that no Scene can be omitted, without Prejudice to the Whole.” When one recalls that the idea of unity of design as evolved in Thomas Warton, Hurd, and Johnson was the intermediate step on the way to a full theory of organic unity we see the importance of such passages in the forward march of criticism.

There is in the _Remarks_ a closer examination of event and character than is usual in the period, again in the light of what it reasonable and natural. The includes some “psychologizing” of persons in the play, specifically in partial analyses of Laertes, Polonious, and Hamlet, enough to foreshadow the later vogue but none of it very remarkable. More worthy of notice is the author's use of a psychological method that is to reappear in developed form in Coleridge: that is, a study of successive scenes leading to a climactic moment--in this case Hamlet's meeting with the ghost--for evidence of a skillful working up through right preparatory touches to a point where the audience, in the words of Anonymous, “are forced ... entirely to suspend their most fixed Opinions and believe ...” This may have been done before in criticism; but if so I do not myself recall it.

I should like, also, to risk the suggestion that to the author of _Some Remarks_ should go the honor of the earliest adumbration of the “Hamlet problem.” For here, before Francis Gentleman or Steevens or Richardson, Anonymous has raised the tantalising question of the why of Hamlet's conduct, the problem of his delay in effecting his revenge, and has glanced at an answer. Anonymous in no wise approves of Hamlet's madness: it was, he thinks, the best possible way to thwart his design of revenge and it was carried on with unseemly lack of dignity. Shakespeare has followed his sources too closely, with bad results. There appears “no Reason at all in Nature, why the young prince did not put the Usurper to Death as soon as possible.” To be sure this would have ended the play; the poet must therefore delay the hero's revenge. But, insists Anonymous, “then he should have contrived some good Reason for it.” This is clearly recognition of the vexing problem that has since occupied the attention of unnumbered critics--if not in full statement, at least in its essentials.

Such examples suggest the seminal quality of the best of this little book. The writer was obviously a man who read closely and reflected to good effect on what he read, with the result that he saw new things and helped open new problems and point the way to a generally more fruitful study of his author. Because of this and its prevailing sound critical qualities the anonymous essay ranks with the more important Shakespearian documents of the century. The editors of the _Augustan_ Reprints are to be commended for their decision to give it a place in their valuable series. A critical work which is so viable, which has so many points of contact with other good Shakespearian criticism, and which is in itself so stimulating in approach and specific idea deserves the added accessibility which such publication permits.

University of Michigan Clarence D. Thorpe

Reprinted from the British Museum copy by permission of The Trustees of the British Museum.

_There is hardly any Thing which has been more abus'd than the Art of Criticism; it has been turned to so many bad Purposes among us, that the very Word it self has almost totally lost its genuine and natural Signification; for People generally understand by Criticism, finding fault with a Work; and from thence, when we call a Man a Critick, we usually mean, one disposed to blame, and seldom to commend. Whereas in Truth, a real Critick, in the proper Sense of that Word, is one whose constant Endeavour it is to set in the best Light all Beauties, and to touch upon Defects no more than is necessary; to point out how such may be avoided for the future, and to settle, if possible, a right Taste among those of the Age in which he lives.

Ill-nature, and a Propensity to set any Work in a ridiculous and false Light, are so far from being the Characteristicks of a true Critick, that they are the certain Marks whereby we may know that a Man has not the true Spirit of Criticism in him.

There is a Weakness opposite to this, which indeed is better natur'd, but is, however, vicious; and that is, the being bigotted to an Author; insomuch that Men of this Stamp, when they undertake to explain or comment upon any Writer, they will not allow him to have any Defects; nay, so far from that, they find out Beauties in him which can be so to none but themselves, and give Turns to his Expressions, and lend him Thoughts which were never his Design, or never enter'd into his Brain.

Of all our Countrymen, Mr._ Addison _is the best in Criticism, the most exempt from the Faults I mention; for his Papers upon_ Milton's Paradise Lost, _I look upon as the true Model for all Criticks to follow. In those we see the Beauties and Faults of that great Poet weigh'd in the most exact and impartial Scales.

Those excellent Papers first gave me an Idea of publishing the following Sheets. Happy! if I can but any ways follow such a Guide, though at ever so great a Distance; since I am well persuaded, that by this Means I can never be totally in Error, tho' I may sometimes deviate for want of proper Abilities!

Criticism in general, is what few of our Countrymen have succeeded in: In that respect, our Neighbours have got the better of us; altho' we can justly boast of the compleatest Essay on that Subject that has been publish'd in any Language, in which almost every Line, and every Word, convey such Images, and such Beauties, as were never before found in so small a Compass, and of whose Author it may properly be said, in that respect,_

He is himself that great Sublime he draws.

_I would not have the Reader imagine, that I believe I have pointed out all the Excellencies in this Tragedy; I am not so vain as to think so. Besides, these Papers are too few to contain them; and I have so little of Presumption in me, that I did not think it reasonable to put my Readers to a greater Expence, by enlarging on the Subject, until I find that they themselves are not averse to it._

_This is all I have to say at present; whatever else is necessary to premise, will be found in the Introduction to the Remarks, to which I refer._

* * * * *

SOME REMARKS ON THE TRAGEDY OF

_Hamlet_ Prince of _Denmark_.

I am going to do what to some may appear extravagant, but by those of a true Taste in Works of Genius will be approv'd of. I intend to examine one of the Pieces of the greatest Tragick Writer that ever liv'd, (except _Sophocles_ and _Euripides_,) according to the Rules of Reason and Nature, without having any regard to those Rules established by Arbitrary Dogmatising Criticks, only as they can be brought to bear that Test.

Among the many Parts of this great Poet's Character, so often given by some of our best Writers, I shall particularly dwell upon those which they have the least insisted on, which will, however, put every Thing he has produc'd in its true and proper Light.

He had (beyond Dispute) a most unbounded Genius, very little regulated by Art.

His particular Excellency consists in the Variety and Singularity of his Characters, and in the constant Conformity of each Character to it self from its very first setting out in the Play, quite to the End. And still further, no Poet ever came up to him, in the Nobleness and Sublimity of Thought, so frequent in his Tragedies, and all express'd with the most Energick Comprehensiveness of Diction.

And it must moreover be observed, as to his Characters, that although there are some entirely of his own Invention, and such as none but so great a Genius could invent; yet he is so remarkably happy in following of Nature, that (if I may so express it) he does it even in Characters which are not in Nature. To clear up this Paradox, my Meaning is, that if we can but once suppose such Characters to exist, then we must allow they must think and act exactly as he has described them.

This is but a short Sketch of the main Part of _Shakespeare's_ particular Excellencies; the others will be taken Notice of in the Progress of my Remarks. And if I am so happy as to point out some Beauties not yet discovered, or at least not put in the Light they ought to be, I hope I shall deserve my Reader's Thanks, who will thereby, I imagine, receive that Pleasure which I have always done upon any new Discovery of this sort, whether made by my own Labour, or by the Penetration of others: And as to those Things which charm by a certain secret Force, and strike us we know not how, or why; I believe it will not be disagreeable, if I shew to every one the Reason why they are pleas'd, and by that Confederation they will be capacitated to discover still more and more Charms in the Works of this great Poet, and thereby increase their Pleasure without End.

I do not pretend, in Publishing these Remarks of mine, to arrogate any Superiority of Genius; but I think every one should contribute to the Improvement of some Branch or other of Literature in this Country of ours, and thus furnish out his Share towards the Bettering of the Minds of his Countrymen, by affording some Honest Amusements, which can entertain a Man, and help to refine his Taste, and improve his Understanding, and no Ways at the Expence of his Honesty and Virtue. In the Course of these Remarks, I shall make use of the Edition of this Poet, given us by Mr. _Theobalds_, because he is generally thought to have understood our Author best, and certainly deserves the Applause of all his Countrymen for the great Pains he has been at to give us the best Edition of this Poet, which has yet appear'd. I would not have Mr. _Pope_ offended at what I say, for I look upon him as the greatest Genius in Poetry that has ever appear'd in _England_: But the Province of an Editor and a Commentator is quite foreign to that of a Poet. The former endeavours to give us an Author as he is; the latter, by the Correctness and Excellency of his own Genius, is often tempted to give us an Author as he thinks he ought to be.

Before I proceed to the particular Parts of this Tragedy, I must premise, that the great Admirers of our Poet cannot be offended, if I point out some of his Imperfections, since they will find that they are very few in Proportion to his Beauties. Amongst the former, we may reckon some _Anachronisms_, and also the inordinate Length of Time supposed to be employ'd in several of his Pieces; add to all this, that the Plots of his Plays in general, are charged with some little Absurdity or other. But then, how easily may we forgive this, when we reflect upon his many Excellencies! The Tragedy that is now coming under our Examination, is one of the best of his Pieces, and strikes us with a certain Awe and Seriousness of Mind, far beyond those Plays whose Whole Plot turns upon vehement and uncontroulable Love, such as are most of our modern Tragedies. These certainly have not the great Effect that others have, which turn either upon Ambition, the Love of one's Country, or Paternal or Filial Tenderness. Accordingly we find, that few among the Ancients, and hardly any of our Author's Plays, are built upon the Passion of Love in a direct Manner; by which I mean, that they have not the mutual Attachment of a Lover and his Mistress for their chief Basis. Love will always make a great Figure in Tragedy, if only its chief Branches be made use of; as for instance, Jealousy (as in _Othello_) or the beautiful Distress of Man and Wife (as in _Romeo_ and _Juliet_) but never when the whole Play is founded upon two Lovers desiring to possess each other: And one of the Reasons for this seems to be, that this last Species of that Passion is more commonly met with than the former, and so consequently strikes us less. Add to this, that there may a Suspicion arise, that the Passion of Love in a direct Manner may be more sensual than in those Branches which I have mention'd; which Suspicion is sufficient to take from its Dignity, and lessen our Veneration for it. Of all _Shakespeare's_ Tragedies, none can surpass this, as to the noble Passions which it naturally raises in us. That the Reader may see what our Poet had to work upon, I shall insert the Plan of it as abridged from _Saxo-Grammaticus's_ _Danish_ History by Mr. _Theobalds_. “The Historian calls our Poets Hero _Amlethus_, his Father _Horwendillus_, his Uncle _Fengo_, and his Mother _Gerutha_. The old King in single Combat, slew _Collerus_ King of _Norway_; _Fengo_ makes away with his Brother _Horwendillus_, and marries his Widow _Gerutha_. _Amlethus_, to avoid being suspected by his Uncle of Designs, assumes a Form of utter Madness. A fine Woman is planted upon him, to try if he would yield to the Impressions of Love. _Fengo_ contrives, that _Amlethus_, in order to sound him, should be closetted by his Mother. A Man is conceal'd in the Rushes to overhear their Discourse; whom _Amlethus_ discovers and kills. When the Queen is frighted at this Behaviour of his; he tasks her about her criminal Course of Life, and incestuous Conversation with her former Husband's Murtherer; confesses his Madness is but counterfeited, to protect himself, and secure his Revenge for his Father; to which he injoins the Queen's Silence. _Fengo_ sends _Amlethus_ to _Britain_: Two of the King's Servants attend him with Letters to the _British_ King, stricyly pressing the Death of _Amlethus_, who, in the Night Time, coming at their Commission, overreads it, forms a new One, and turns the Destruction designed towards himself on the Bearers of the Letters. _Amlethus_ returning Home, by a Wile surprizes and kills his Uncle.” I shall have Occasion to remark in the Sequel, that in one Particular he has follow'd the Plan so closely as to produce an Absurdity in his Plot. And I must premise also this, that in my Examination of the whole Conduct of the Play, the Reader must not be surprised, if I censure any Part of it, although it be entirely in Conformity to the Plan the Author has chosen; because it is easy to conceive, that a Poet's Judgment is particularly shewn in chusing the proper Circumstances, and rejecting the improper Ones of the Ground-work which he raises his Play upon. In general we are to take Notice, that as History ran very low in his Days, most of his Plays are founded upon some old wretched Chronicler, or some empty _Italian_ Novelist; but the more base and mean were his Materials, so much more ought we to admire His Skill, Who has been able to work up his Pieces to such Sublimity from such low Originals. Had he had the Advantages of many of his Successors, ought not we to believe, that he would have made the greatest Use of them? I shall not insist upon the Merit of those who first break through the thick Mist of _Barbarism_ in Poetry, which was so strong about the Time our Poet writ, because this must be easily sensible to every Reader who has the least Tincture of Letters; but thus much we must observe, that before his Time there were very few (if any) Dramatick Performances of any Tragick Writer, which deserve to be remembred; so much were all the noble Originals of Antiquity buried in Oblivion. One would think that the Works of _Sophocles_, _Euripides_, &c. were Discoveries of the last Age only; and not that they had existed for so many Centuries. There is something very astonishing in the general Ignorance and Dullness of Taste, which for so long a Time over-spread the World, after it had been so gloriously enlighten'd by _Athens_ and _Rome_; especially as so many of their excellent Master-pieces were still remaining, which one would have thought should have excited even the Brutes of those barbarous Ages to have examined them, and form'd themselves according to such Models.

VOL. the 7th of Mr. _Theobald's Shakespeare_.

Page 225.

SCENE I

_Bernardo_ and _Francisco_, two Centinels.

Bernardo. _Who's there?_ &c.

Nothing can be more conformable to Reason, than that the Beginning of all Dramatick Performances (and indeed of every other kind of Poesie) should be with the greatest Simplicity, that so our Passions maybe work'd upon by Degrees. This Rule is very happily observ'd in this Play; and it has this Advantage over many others, that it has Majesty and Simplicity joined together. For this whole preparatory Discourse to the Ghost's coming in, at the same Time that it is necessary towards laying open the Scheme of the Play, creates an Awe and Attention in the Spectators, such as very well fits them to receive the Appearance of a Messenger from the other World, with all the Terror and Seriousness necessary on the Occasion. And surely the Poet has manag'd the Whole in such a Manner, that it is all entirely Natural: And tho' most Men are well enough arm'd against all Belief of the Appearances of Ghosts, yet they are forced, during the Representation of this Piece, entirely to suspend their most fixed Opinions, and believe that they do actually see a Phantom, and that the whole Plot of the Play is justly and naturally founded upon the Appearance of this Spectre.

Page 227.

Marcell. HORATIO _says 'tis but our Phantasie, And will not let Belief take hold of Him, Touching this dreaded Sight twice seen of Us; Therefore I have intreated him along With us to watch the Minutes of this Night; That if again this Apparition come, He may approve our Eyes, and speak to it._

HORATIO, _Tush, Tush, 'twill not appear!_

These Speeches help greatly to deceive us; for they shew one of the principal Persons of the Drama to be as incredulous, in Relation to the Appearance of Phantoms, as we can be; but that he is at last convinc'd of his Error by the Help of his Eyes. For it is a Maxim entirely agreeable to Truth, if we consider human Nature, that whatever is supernatural or improbable, is much more likely to gain Credit with us, if it be introduced as such, and talk'd of as such by the Persons of the Drama, but at last prov'd to be true, tho' an extraordinary Thing, than if it were brought in as a Thing highly probable, and no one were made to boggle at the Belief of it. The Reason of this seems to be, that we can for once, upon a very great Occasion, allow such an Incident as this to have happen'd, if it be brought in as a Thing of great Rarity; but we can by no means so suspend our Judgement and Knowledge, or deceive Our Understandings, as to grant That to be common and usual which we know to be entirely Supernatural and Improbable.

Page 227.

_Enter the Ghost._

Here it is certain, nothing could be better tim'd than the Entrance of this Spectre; for he comes in and convinces _Horatio_, to save _Marcellos_ the Trouble of repeating the whole Story, which would have been tiresome to the Spectators, as these Gentlemen were obliged soon after to relate the Whole to Prince _Hamlet_.

Horatio's Speeches to the Apparition are exceeding Natural, Aweful, and Great, and well suited to the Occasion and his own Character.

_What art Thou, that usurpest this Time of Night, Together with that fair and warlike Form, In which the Majesty of buried_ Denmark _Did some Time march? By Heaven, I charge thee speak_. Page 227.

The other is Page 130.

---- _Stay Illusion! If thou hast any Sound, or Use of Voice, Speak to me! If there be any good Thing to be done, That may to thee do Ease, and Grace to me, Speak to me. If thou art privy to thy Country's Fate, Which, happily, Fore-knowing may avoid, Oh Speak! Or if thou hast uphoarded in thy Life Extorted Treasure in the Womb of Earth, For which, they say, you Spirits oft' walk in Death, Speak of it,--Stay and speak!--Stop it_ Marcellus.

His desiring _Marcellus_ to stop it, is also much in Nature, because it shews a Perturbation of Mind, very much to be expected at such an Incident. For he must know, being a Scholar, (as they term him) that Spirits could not be stopp'd as Corporeal Substances can.

But to return to Page 228.

Bernardo, _How now_ Horatio! _you tremble and look pale_, &c.

This is entirely in Nature, for it cannot be supposed, that any Man, tho' never so much endu'd with Fortitude, could see so strange a Sight, so shocking to human Nature, without some Commotion of his Frame, although the Bravery of his Mind makes him get the better of it.

Page 228.

Horatio, _Before my God, I might not this believe, Without the sensible and trite Avouch Of mine own Eyes_.

This Speech still helps on our Deception, for the Reasons I have already given.

Page 228.

Horatio, _Such was the very Armour he had on_, &c.

I have heard many Persons wonder why the Poet should bring in this Ghost in complete Armour. It does, I own, at first seem hard to be accounted for; but I think these Reasons may be given for it, viz. We are to consider, that he could introduce him in these Dresses only; in his Regal Dress, in a Habit of Interment, in a common Habit, or in some Phantastick one of his own Invention. Now let us examine which was most likely to affect the Spectators with Passions proper to the Occasion, and which could most probably furnish out great Sentiments and fine Expressions.

The Regal Habit has nothing uncommon in it, nor surprising; nor could it give rise to any fine Images. The Habit of Interment was something too horrible; for Terror, not Horror, is to be raised in the Spectators. The common Habit (or _Habit de Ville_, as the _French_ call it) was by no Means proper for the Occasion.

It remains then, that the Poet should chuse some Habit from his own Brain: But this certainly could not be proper, because Invention in such a Case, would be so much in Danger of falling into the Grotesque, that it was not to be hazarded.

Now as to the Armour, it was very suitable to a King, who is described as a great Warrior, and is very particular, and consequently affects the Spectators, without being phantastick. Besides, if there were no other Reason, the fine Image which arises from thence, in these Lines, is Reason enough.

_Such was the very Armour he had on, When He th' ambitious_ Norway _combated, So frown'd He once, when in angry Parle, He smote the sleaded_ Polack _on the Ice. 'Tis Strange!_

There is a Stroke of Nature in _Horatio's_ breaking off, from the Description of the King, and falling into the Exclamation. _'Tis Strange!_ which is inimitably Beautiful.

Page 228.

Marcellus. _Good now sit down_, &c.

The whole Discourse concerning the great Preparations making in _Denmark_ is very Poetical, and necessary also towards the introducing of _Fortinbrass_ in this Play, whose Appearance gives Rise to one Scene, which adds a Beauty to the Whole; I mean, That wherein _Hamlet_ makes those noble Reflections upon seeing That Prince's Army. Besides, this Discourse is necessary also to give the Ghost Time to appear again, in order to affect the Spectators still more; and from this Conversation the Interlocutors draw one Reason, why the Spirit appears in Arms, which appears rational to the Audience. It gives also _Horatio_ an Opportunity of addressing the Ghost in that beautiful Manner he does.

Page 229

_Stay Illusion! &c_.

The Description of the Prefages which happen'd to _Rome_, and the drawing a like Inference from this supernatural Appearance, is very nervous and Poetical.

Page 230, 231.

Bernardo. _It was about to speak when the Cock crew &c_.

The Speeches in consequence of this Observation are truly beautiful, and are properly Marks of a great Genius; as also these Lines which describe the Morning, are in the true Spirit of Poetry.

Page 31. _But, look, the Morn, in Russet Mantle clad, Walks oe'r the Dew of yon high Eastern Hill_.

And as to _Shakespeare's_ complying with the vulgar Notions of Spirits amongst the _English_ at that Time, so far from being low, it adds a Grace and a _Naïveté_ to the whole Passage, which one can much easier be sensible of than know how to make others so.

SCENE. _The Palace_, (p. 231.) And Sequel.

_Enter the_ King, Queen, Hamlet, &c.

It is very natural and apropos, that the King should bring some plausible Excuse for marrying his Brother's Wife so soon after the Decease of his Brother, which he does in his first Speech in this Scene: It would else have too soon revolted the Spectators against such an unusual Proceeding. All the Speeches of the King in this Scene to his Ambassadors _Cornelius_ and _Voltimand_, and to _Laertes_, and to Prince _Hamlet_, are entirely Fawning, and full of Dissimulation, and makes him well deserve the Character which the Prince afterwards gives him, of _smiling, damn'd Villain, &c._ when he is informed of his Crime.

The King's and Queen's Questions to _Hamlet_ are very proper, to give the Audience a true Idea of the Filial Piety of the young Prince, and of his virtuous Character; for we are hereby informed of his fixed and strong Grief for the Loss of his Father: For it does not appear, that the Usurpation of the Crown from him, sits heavy on his Soul, at least, it is not seen by any Part of his Behaviour.

How his Uncle came to be preferred to him, we are left entirely in the dark, but may suppose it to have been done in the same Manner, as several things of the like Nature have been effected, viz. by Corruption and Violence, and perhaps upon the Pretence of the Prince's being too young.

I can by no Means agree with Mr. _Theobalds_, (p. 235.) who thinks, that it is necessary to suppose a considerable Number of Years spent in this Tragedy; because Prince _Hamlet_ is said to desire to return to _Wittenberg_ again, and is supposed to be just come from it; and that afterwards, the Grave-Digger lets us know that the Prince is Thirty Years old; my Reasons are, that as _Wittenberg_ was an University, and _Hamlet_ is represented as a Prince of great Accomplishments, it is no wonder that he should like to spend his Time there, in going on in his Improvements, rather than to remain inactive at _Elsinoor_, or be immers'd in Sottishness, with which he seems to tax his Countrymen; as will appear in the Sequel. Besides, he might well desire to return there, when he found his Throne usurped, and his Mother acting so abominable a Part. And as to the Term of going to School, &c. That does not at all imply literally a School for Boys, but is poetically used for Studying at any Age.

Another Reason may be given why there cannot be supposed to be a great Length of Time in this Play; which is this, That we see in the First Act, Ambassadors dispatch'd to old _Norway_, concerning his Nephew _Fortinbras's_ Army, which was then ready to march; and in the Fourth Act, we see this Prince at the Head of that Army, which immediately, upon the Embassy from the _Danish_ King to his Uncle, we are naturally to suppose he leads to that other Enterprize which is mentioned in that Scene. Now it is no ways likely, that between the Embassy and the marching of an Army already assembled before that Embassy, there should be a Number of Years. These Reasons and the whole Conduct of the Piece convince me, that this is one of _Shakespeare's_ Plays, in which the least Time is employ'd; how much there is, I cannot pretend to say.

As to the _Prolepsis_, or in other Words, the mentioning the University of _Wittenberg_, long before its Establishment, thus antedating its Time, I shall not justify _Shakespeare_; I think it is a fault in him; but I cannot be of Opinion, that it has any bad Effect in this Tragedy. _See Mr_. Theobald's _Note_, (p. 235.)

As to _Hamlet's_ Soliloquy, I shall set down the whole Passage, and shall subjoin the Remarks of a very eminent Author which are in the Spirit of true Criticism.

_Oh that this too, too solid Flesh would melt, Thaw, and resolve it self into a Dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd His Cannon 'gainst Self-slaughter! Oh God! Oh God! How weary, stale, and unprofitable, Seem to me all the Uses of this World! Fie on't! Oh fie! 'tis an unweeded Garden, That grows to Seed; Things rank and gross in Nature, Possess it merely. That it should come to this, But two Months dead! Nay, not so much, not Two! So Excellent a King, that was to this_, Hyperion _to a Satyr: So Loving to my Mother, That he would not let e'en the Winds of Heav'n Visit her Face too roughly. Heav'n and Earth! Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him, As if Increase of Appetite had grown By what it fed on; yet within a Month! Let me not think. Frailty! Thy Name is Woman. A little Month; e'er yet those Shoes were old, With which she follow'd my poor Father's Body, Like_ Niobe, _all Tears; Why she, even she, (Oh Heav'n, a Beast that wants Discourse of Reason, Would have mourn'd longer) married with mine Uncle, My Father's Brother; but no more like my Father, Than I to_ Hercules. _Within a Month, E'er yet the Salt of most unrighteous Tears Had left the flushing in her gaul'd Eyes, She married. Oh! most wicked Speed, to post With such Dexterity to incestuous Sheets!_

_It is not, nor it cannot come to Good. But, break my Heart, for I must hold my Tongue._

“The young Prince, (says this Author in the _Tatler_,) was not yet acquainted with all the Guilt of his Mother; but turns his Thoughts on her sudden Forgetfulness of his Father, and the Indecency of her hasty Marriage. The several Emotions of Mind, and Breaks of Passion in this Speech, are admirable. He has touch'd every Circumstance that aggravated the Fact, and seem'd capable of hurrying the Thoughts of a Son into Distraction. His Father's Tenderness for his Mother, express'd in so delicate a Particular; his Mother's Fondness for his Father, no less exquisitely described; the great and amiable Figure of his dead Parent, drawn by a true Filial Piety; his Disdain of so unworthy a Successor to his Bed: But above all, the Shortness of the Time between his Father's Death, and his Mother's Second Marriage, brought together with so much Disorder, make up as noble a Part as any in that celebrated Tragedy. The Circumstance of Time I never could enough admire. The Widow-hood had lasted two Months. This is his first Reflection: But as his Indignation rises, he sinks to scarce two Months; afterwards into a Month; and at last, into a _little_ Month. But all this so naturally, that the Reader accompanies him in the Violence of his Passion, and finds the Time lessen insensibly, according to the different Workings of his Disdain. I have not mentioned the Incest of her Marriage, which is so obvious a Provocation; but can't forbear taking Notice, that when his Fury is at its Height, he cries, _Frailty, thy Name is Woman!_ as Railing at the Sex in general, rather than giving himself leave to think his Mother worse than Others.”

Page 238.

_Enter_ Horatio, Bernardo, _and_ Marcellus, _to_ Hamlet.

The Greeting between _Hamlet, Horatio,_ and _Marcellus_, is very easy, and expresses the benign Disposition of the Prince, and first gives us an Intimation of his Friendship for _Horatio_.

Page 238.

_We'll teach you to drink deep, e'er you depart_.

This seems designed to reflect upon the sottish Disposition, then encouraged amongst the _Danes_ by the Usurper, as will appear in the Sequel; and gives us one Reason why _Elsinoor_ was disagreeable to Prince _Hamlet_; and certainly, much confirms what I before said, as to his going back to _Wittenberg_.

Page 238.

The Prince's Reflections on his Mother's hasty Marriage, are very natural, and shew That to be one of the principal Causes of the deep fix'd Concern so visible in his Behaviour; and then they serve to introduce the Relation of the Appearance of his Father's Ghost.

Page 238, to the End of the Scene.

_Hamlet_ receives the Account they give him with such a Surprize as is very natural, and particularly his breaking off from the Consequence of his Question, viz. _Hold you the Watch to Night?_ and saying _arm'd?_ that is, returning to the main Question, is exceedingly in Nature.

Their differing in the Account of the Time the Spectre staid, throws an Air of Probability on the Whole, which is much easier felt than described.

The Prince's Resolution to speak to the Phantom, let what will be the Consequence, is entirely suitable to his Heroical Disposition; and his Reflection upon his Father's Spirit appearing in Arms, is such as one would naturally expect from him; and the Moral Sentence he ends his short Speech with, suits his virtuous Temper, at the same Time that it has a good Effect upon the Audience, and answers the End of Tragedy.

Page 241, to the End of the Scene, in p. 246.

SCENE in _Polonius's_ House.

_Enter_ Laertes _and_ Ophelia, _and afterwards_ Polonius.

It is evident by the whole Tenour of _Polonius's_ Behaviour in this Play, that he is intended to represent some Buffoonish Statesman, not too much fraught with Honesty. Whether any particular Person's Character was herein aim'd at, I shall not determine, because it is not to the Purpose; for whoever reads our Author's Plays, will find that in all of them, (even the most serious ones) he has some regard for the meanest Part of his Audience, and perhaps too, for that Taste for low Jokes and Punns, which prevailed in his Time among the better Sort. This, I think, was more pardonable in him, when it was confined to Clowns, and such like Persons in his Plays; but is by no Means excusable in a Man, supposed to be in such a Station as _Polonius_ is, Nay, granting that such Ministers of State were common, (which surely they are not) it would even then be a Fault in our Author to introduce them in such Pieces as this; for every Thing that is natural is not to be made use of improperly: But when it is out of Nature, this certainly much aggravates the Poet's Mistake. And, to speak Truth, all Comick Circumstances, all Things tending to raise a Laugh, are highly offensive in Tragedies to good Judges; the Reason in my Opinion is evident, viz. that such Things degrade the Majesty and Dignity of Tragedy, and destroy the Effect of the Intention which the Spectators had in being present at such Representations; that is, to acquire that pleasing Melancholy of Mind, which is caus'd by them, and that Satisfaction which arises from the Consciousness that we are mov'd as we ought to be, and that we consequently have Sentiments suitable to the Dignity of our Nature. For these and many other Reasons, too long to mention here, I must confess myself to be an Enemy also to all ludicrous Epilogues and Farcical Pieces, at the End of Tragedies; and must think them full as ridiculous as if we were to dress a Monarch in all his Royal Robes, and then put a Fool's Cap upon him.

But to come to the Scene now under Examination. It is certain, that except it be in playing upon the Word _Tender_ p. 244. (of which too he is sensible himself,) our old Statesman behaves suitably to his Dignity, and acts fully up to his Paternal Character; so here we shall not tax him.

The Advice of _Laertes_ to his Sister contains the soundest Reasoning, express'd in the most nervous and poetical Manner, and is full of Beauties; particularly, I can never enough admire the Modesty inculcated in these Lines:

_The chariest Maid is prodigal enough, If She unmask her Beauty to the Moon_.

_Ophelia's_ modest Replies, the few Words she uses, and the virtuous Caution she gives her Brother, after his Advice to her, are inimitably charming. This I have observed in general in our Author's Plays, that almost all his young Women (who are designed as good Characters) are made to behave with a Modesty and Decency peculiar to those Times, and which are of such pleasing Simplicity as seem too ignorant and unmeaning in our well taught knowing Age; so much do we despise the virtuous Plainness of our Fore-fathers!

_Polonius_ and _Laertes_ Behaviour to each other, is exceeding natural; and I agree with Mr. _Theobalds's_ Emendation as to that Circumstance, (p. 243.) of _Polonius_ Blessing his Son; but I can by no Means be of his Sentiment, that it was a Circumstance, which, if well managed by a Comick Actor, would raise a Laugh, (See his Note, p. 243.) for I am perswaded, that _Shakespeare_ was too good a Judge of Nature, to design any Thing Comick or Buffoonish upon so solemn an Occasion, as that of a Son's taking leave of his Father in the most emphatical and serious Manner. And therefore, whatever Actor proceeds upon this Supposition (as I have seen some do in parallel Cases) does only shew his Ignorance and Presumption. This Assertion of mine will appear indisputable, if my Reader considers well the whole Tenour of this Scene, with the grave and excellent Instructions which it contains, from _Polonius_ to _Laertes_, and from both to _Ophelia_. It is impossible that any Buffoonry could be here blended, to make void and insignificant so much good Sense expressed in the true Beauties of Poetry. As to Prince _Hamlet's_ Love for _Ophelia_, I shall speak to it in another Place.

Concerning the Design of this Scene, we shall find it is necessary towards the whole Plot of the Play, and is by no Means an Episode. As to _Laertes's_ Character, I shall lay some thing of it else where.

Page 246

Scene. _The Platform before the Palace._

_Enter_ Hamlet, Horatio _and_ Marcellus.

The Beginning of this Scene is easy and natural. The King's taking his Rowse, seems introduced to fill up a necessary Space of Time, and also perhaps to blacken still more the Character of the Usurper, who had revived a sottish Custom (as appears by the Prince's Remarks upon it) omitted by several of his Predecessors; for it would have been improper to have had the Ghost appear the Minute the Prince was come on to the Platform. Some Time was requisite to prepare the Minds of the Spectators, that they might collect all their Faculties to behold this important Scene, on which turns the whole Play, with due Attention and Seriousness; although, indeed, I must think that the Prince's Speech would not be much worth preserving, but for That Reason: for expressed and amended, according to the best that can be made of it, (as Mr. _Theobalds_ has done it) it is but of very obsure Diction, and is much too long; for a very short Moral is to be drawn from it.

Page 248.

_Enter the Ghost._

We now are come to the sublimest Scene in this whole Piece, a Scene worthy of the greatest Attention; an Heroical Youth addressing the Shade of his departed Father, whom he tenderly loved, and who, we are told, was a Monarch of the greatest Worth. Surely there cannot be imagin'd any Scene more capable of stirring up our noblest Passions. Let us but observe with how much Beauty and Art the Poet has managed it. This Spectre has been once spoken to by the Friend of our young Hero, and it must be confessed, that _Horatio's_ Speech to it is truly great and beautiful: But as the like Incident was again to happen; that is, as the Ghost was again to be addressed, and with this Addition, by the Hero of the Play, and Son to the King, whose Spirit appears; it was necessary, I say, upon these Accounts, that this Incident should be treated in a sublimer Manner than the Former. Accordingly we may take Notice, that _Hamlet's_ Speech to his Father's Shade is as much superior to that of _Horatio_ upon the same Occasion, as his is to any Thing of that kind that I have ever met with in any other Dramatick Poet.

_Hamlet's_ Invocation of the heavenly Ministers, is extremely fine; and the begging their Protection upon the Appearance of a Sight so shocking to human Nature, is entirely conformable to the virtuous Character of this Prince, and gives an Air of Probability to the whole Scene. He accosts the Ghost with great Intrepidity; and his whole Speech is so full of the Marks of his Filial Piety, that we may easily observe, that his Tenderness for his Father gets the better of all Sentiments of Terror which we could suppose to arise, even in the Breast of the most undaunted Person, upon the seeing and conversing with so strange an Apparition.

His breaking from his Friends with that Vehemency of Passion in an Eagerness of Desire to hear what his Father could say to him, is another Proof of his Filial Tenderness.

The Reader of himself must easily see why the Spectre would not speak to the Prince, but a-part from those who were with him: For it was not a Secret of a Nature fit to be divulg'd. Their earnest Intreaties, and almost Force which they use to keep him from going, are much in Nature; the Reasons they give him, and the Reflections they make after he is gone, are poetically express'd, and very natural.

The Ghost's Account of the base Murther committed on him, is express'd in the strongest and most nervous Diction that Poetry can make use of; and he speaks with such Gravity and Weight of Language as well suits his Condition. The Ideas he raises in the Audience by his short Hint concerning the Secrets of his Prison-House, are such as must cause that Terror which is the natural Effect of such Appearances, and must occasion such Images as should always accompany such Incidents in Tragedy.

The Ghost's bringing out the Account of his Murder by Degrees, and the Prince's Exclamations as he becomes farther acquainted with the Affair, are great Beauties in this Scene, because it is all entirely conformable to Nature; that is, to those Ideas by which we naturally conceive, how a Thing of this sort would be managed and treated, were it really to happen.

We are to observe further, that the King spurs on his Son to revenge his foul and unnatural Murder from these two Considerations chiefly, that he was sent into the other World without having had Time to repent of his Sins, and without the necessary Sacraments, (according to the Church of _Rome_,) as Mr. _Theobalds_, (See his Note, _p._ 253.) has well explained it, and that consequently his Soul was to suffer, if not eternal Damnation, at least a long Course of Penance in Purgatory; which aggravates the Circumstances of his Brother's Barbarity. And, Secondly, That _Denmark_ might not be the Scene of Usurpation and Incest, and the Throne thus polluted and profaned. For these Reasons he prompts the young Prince to Revenge; else it would have been more becoming the Character of such a Prince as _Hamlet's_ Father is represented to have been, and more suitable to his present Condition, to have left his Brother to the Divine Punishment, and to a Possibility of Repentance for his base Crime, which by cutting him off, he must be deprived of.

His Caution to his Son concerning his Mother, is very fine, and shews great Delicacy in our Author; as has been observ'd by a great Writer of our Nation. The Ghost's Interrupting himself (_but soft, methinks, I scent the Morning Air_, &c.) has much Beauty in it, particularly, as it complys with the received Notions, that Spirits shun the Light, and continues the Attention of the Audience by so particular a Circumstance.

The Sequel of this Scene by no Means answers the Dignity of what we have hitherto been treating of. _Hamlet's_ Soliloquy, after the Ghost has disappeared, is such as it should be. The Impatience of _Horatio_, &c. to know the Result of his Conference with the Phantom, and his putting them off from knowing it, with his Caution concerning his future Conduct, and his intreating them to be silent in Relation to this whole Affair; all this, I say, is natural and right; but his light and even ludicrous Expressions to them; his making them swear by his Sword, and shift their Ground, with the Ghost's Crying under the Stage, and _Hamlet's_ Reflection thereupon, are all Circumstances certainly inferiour to the preceeding Part.

But as we should be very cautious in finding Fault with Men of such an exalted Genius as our Author certainly was, lest we should blame them when in reality the Fault lies in our own slow Conception, we should well consider what could have been our Author's View in such a Conduct. I must confess, I have turn'd this Matter on every Side, and all that can be said for it (as far as I am able to penetrate), is that he makes the Prince put on this Levity of Behaviour, that the Gentlemen who were with him, might not imagine that the Ghost had reveal'd some Matter of great Consequence to him, and that he might not therefore be suspected of any deep Designs. This appears plausible enough; but let it be as it will, the whole, I think, is too lightly managed, and such a Design as I have mention'd might, in my Opinion, have been answered by some other Method more correspondent to the Dignity and Majesty of the preceeding Part of the Scene. I must observe once more, that the Prince's Soliloquy is exquisitely beautiful.

I shall conclude what I have to say on this Scene, with observing, that I do not know any Tragedy, ancient or modern, in any Nation, where the Whole is made to turn so naturally and so justly upon such a supernatural Appearance as this is; nor do I know of any Piece whatever, where a Spectre introduced with so much Majesty, such an Air of Probability, and where such an Apparition is manag'd with so much Dignity and Art; in short, which so little revolts the Judgment and Belief of the Spectators. Nor have I ever met in all my Reading, with a Scene in any Tragedy, which creates so much Awe, and serious Attention as this does, and which raises such a Multiplicity of the most exalted Sentiments. It is certain, our Author excell'd in this kind of Writing, as has been more than once observed by several Writers, and none ever before or since his Time, could ever bring Inhabitants of another World upon the Stage, without making them ridiculous or too horrible, and the Whole too improbable and too shocking to Men's Understandings.

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