REMARKS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS ON SHAKSPEARE'S 'HAMLE 'HAMLET is the only son of the King of Denmark, at a p when Denmark is a powerful military state, showing its stre against England by sea, Poland by land, and Norway doub by both; and when the kings, though usually chosen accor to their claim by birth, are yet elected; and when therefor presumptive heir has special need and spur to distinguish hi and prove his qualifications in the eyes of the nation. these qualifications are not merely military, for the nati not a horde of barbarian warriors, but a state which main its superiority as much by its policy as its arms. Indee advanced is it in civilisation, that though it has a pow national Christian Church, the priests of which, though yielding, half maintain their canons against the will of crown, still the councillors of state and ambassadors are men, though not soldiers as far as appears. In a wordwars and treaties, the state councils and embassies, the pla the coroner's inquests and Christian burials, the awakened of the peasants, the refinements of the courtiers, and the ed tion of the young nobles finished at the German universi the French capital, all mark a state of advanced and vig national life, much like that which existed in Shakspe own day in England. Whether such a state of society ever been actually found in Denmark is not the question it is one of the most undoubted rights of the Romantic Dr that it shall be free from the laws of time and place, th ect ever to the no less real and binding, though very difnt, laws of the imagination.'-STRACHEY's Methodical Anaof Hamlet. Shakspeare's high notion of his calling, that it was scrupuly to hold the mirror up to nature, prevented him from ming, like less consummate artists, his own interpreter ugh the mouths of his characters. His dramatis personæ k nothing which they might not be supposed to say under actual circumstances in which they are placed; and if the tator is unable so far to identify himself with their mood feelings as to follow the workings of their minds, Shakre, with a proud faithfulness to his own genius, preferred his meaning should be lost rather than deviate a hair's dth from truth. A vast deal that is most admirable in has for this reason been overlooked, or misconceived and sured, and is only by slow degrees dragged forth to light. .. Every word that drops from the lips of Shakspeare's onages is the appropriate expression of their inward feel; and owing to that characteristic we have mentioned of mighty master-that he will not stoop to be his own extor in violation of nature-we miss the spirit in which they k, unless we note accurately their particular position at the e. It is from the neglect of this precaution that the openof Hamlet, which is alive with excitement, striking conts, and the most delicate touches of nature, seems to have a taken by the editors, old and new, for nothing more than unimpassioned conversation between two sentinels.' *arterly Review, vol. lxxix. (1847). This soliloquy ["O, that this too too solid flesh," &c.], the full expression we have of Hamlet's actual feelings, deserves icular consideration from those who feel any interest in the stion of his real state of mind throughout the play. It ns distinctly to reveal both his mental constitution and the All Shakspeare's opening scenes are important in relation to the play. An rable analysis of the opening scene of 'Hamlet' is given in the excellent de from which the above extract is made. already existing disturbance in his feelings, amounting predisposition to actual unsoundness. His mind is morb and constantly occupied with one set of thoughts: the in corous marriage of his uncle with his mother had usurped his attention. He is even at this time far advanced into miserable condition which he describes much later: he has all his mirth; he is weary of all the uses of the world; h weary of life. Of his father's ghost he has at this time heard thing; of his father's murder no suspicion has ever been drea of by him. No thought of feigning melancholy can have tered his mind; but he is even now most heavily skaken discomposed indeed so violently, that his reason, although dethroned, is certainly wellnigh deranged. The explana would seem only to be found in his original constitution: h accomplished, but inactive; he meditates much, he does thing; events agitate, but do not move him. The cour assuming its ordinary aspect, he regards it not; the stat threatened with imminent dangers, he is not stirred to acti his own wrongs excite him to no resolve, to no rem strance, and only drive him to passionate declamation and thoughts of getting rid of life by self-murder. Hamlet read and thought much, has passed happy hours v Ophelia, has lived for the most part in a charmed worl imagination and sentiment; he is constitutionally deficien that quality of a healthy brain or mind which may be ter its elasticity, in virtue of which the changes and chances of mutable world should be sustained without damage, and various trials stedfastness and trust still preserved.'CONOLLY'S Study of Hamlet. 'Hamlet mentions to his friends a deliberate purpos "putting an antic disposition on," and he is seen fulfilling intention; and hence it is inferred that all his insanity] feigned. On the other hand, there is observed a wildnes demeanour which cannot thus be accounted for; and henc is inferred that it is real insanity. Now, the human min not such a simple machine as this, and Shakspeare knew it well to treat it so. The truth, as well as I can state a ma abstruse, seems to be this: that, from combination of inences, the mind of Hamlet was in a state of undue susceptiity of both unnatural excitement and depression; and then ther agitated by a supernatural visitation, by which, in his n words, he felt his "disposition horridly shaken with oughts beyond the reaches of our souls." This visible and dible communion with the dead has so convulsed all the ritual elements of his nature, that he becomes conscious at the sovereignty of his reason was in jeopardy; and it is at very consciousness-the apprehension of insanity--which ggests to an intellect so active the thought of feigning madss—the device of assuming an antic disposition, which would we them an unwonted freedom, and which might always be ntrolled by his habitual intellectual strength. It comes then this-that there was disorder in the mind-a disturbance of intellect, something more than that which he was feigning; t, if this question of insanity involve the question whether mind ceased to be under the mastery of his will, assuredly ere was no such aberration.'-REED's Lectures on Tragic etry. 'Conceive a prince such as is here painted, and that his her suddenly dies. Ambition and the love of rule are not e passions that inspire him. As a king's son he would have en contented; but now he is first constrained to consider the ference which separates a sovereign from a subject. The own was not hereditary; yet a longer possession of it by his her would have strengthened the pretensions of an only son, d secured his hopes of the succession. In place of this, he w beholds himself excluded by his uncle, in spite of specious omises, most probably for ever. He is now poor in goods and our, and a stranger in the scene which from youth he had ked upon as his inheritance. His temper here assumes its t mournful tinge. He feels that now he is not more—that is less-than a private nobleman; he offers himself as the vant of everyone; he is not courteous and condescending, he needy and degraded. His past condition he remembers as a vanished dream. It is in vain his uncle strives to cheer him to present his situa in another point of view. The feeling of his nothingness not leave him. 'The second stroke that came upon him wounded de bowed still more. It was the marriage of his mother. faithful tender son had yet a mother, when his father pa away. He hoped, in the company of his surviving no minded parent, to reverence the heroic form of the depar but his mother too he loses, and it is something worse death that robs him of her. The trustful image, which a g child loves to form of its parents, is gone. With the there is no help; on the living no hold. She also is a wor and her name is Frailty, like that of all her sex. 'Now first does he feel himself completely bent and orphan and no happiness of life can repay what he has lost. reflective or sorrowful by nature, reflection and sorrow become for him a heavy obligation. It is thus that we see first enter on the scene. Figure to yourselves this youth, son of princes; conceive him vividly, bring his state be your eyes, and then observe him when he learns that his fath spirit walks; stand by him in the terrors of the night, when venerable ghost itself appears before him. A horrid shu passes over him; he speaks to the mysterious form; he se beckon him; he follows it and hears. The fearful accusa of his uncle rings in his ears; the summons to revenge, and piercing, oft-repeated prayer, "Remember me!" 'And when the ghost has vanished, who is it that sta before us? A young hero panting for vengeance? A pr by birth, rejoicing to be called to punish the usurper of crown? No trouble and astonishment take hold of solitary young man: he grows bitter against smiling villa swears that he will not forget the spirit, and concludes v the significant ejaculation The time is out of joint: O cursed spite! In these words, I imagine, will be found the key to Haml whole procedure. To me it is clear that Shakspeare mean the present case to represent the effects of a great action b |