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CO 


HANDBOUND 
AT  THE 


UNIVERSITY  OF 


IAMLET,  AN  IDEAL  PRINCE 

AND  OTHER  ESSAYS  IN 

SHAKESPEAREAN 


INTERPRETATION 

Hamlet;  Merchant  of  Venice;  Othello;  King  Lear 


BY  A\ 

ALEXANDER  W.   CRAWFORD, 

M.A.  (TORONTO),  PH.D.  (CORNELL). 

PROFESSOR  OF  ENGLISH  IN  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  MANITOBA, 
AUTHOR  OF  "  THE  PHILOSOPHY  OF  F.  H.  JACOBI." 


BOSTON:  RICHARD  G.  BADGER 

TORONTO:  THECOPP  CLARK  CO.,  LIMITED 


COPYRIGHT,  1916,  BY  RICHARD  G.  BADGER 
All  Rights  Reserved 


PR 


13 

Cop, 


Made  in  the  United  States  of  America 
The  Gorham  Press,  Boston.  U.  S.  A. 


TO  THE  MEMORY   OF 
THE   LATE 

PROFESSOR  HIRAM  CORSON,  M.A.,  LL.D.,  Lrrr.D. 

OF   CORNELL  UNIVERSITY, 
WHO  FIRST  TAUGHT  ME  THAT  THERE  ARE 

MORE  THINGS  IN — SHAKESPEARE 
THAN  ARE  DREAMT  OF  IN  OUR  PHILOSOPHY. 


PREFACE 

THE  three  hundredth  year  of  Shakespeare's  death 
seems  an  appropriate  time  to  offer  to  the  public 
new  interpretations  of  some  of  the  great  dram- 
atist's greatest  plays.  The  earnest  study  of  the 
past  three  centuries  has  by  no  means  exhausted  tlie 
wealth  of  meaning  contained  in  these  master-pieces. 
The  present  Shakespeare  revival  not  only  discloses  an 
increasing  interest  in  the  dramas  as  plays,  but  reveals 
a  recognition  beyond  that  of  any  preceding  age  of  their 
inestimable  educational  value  as  an  unequalled  part 
of  the  world's  great  literature.  It  is  clear  that  both  as 
plays  and  as  literature  the  dramas  of  Shakespeare  are 
assuming  greater  importance  in  the  intellectual  and 
spiritual  life  of  the  world. 

It  is  therefore  highly  desirable  that  the  plays  should 
be  studied  anew  in  the  light  of  our  present  knowledge 
of  his  times,  and  of  our  present  attitude  toward  them 
as  works  of  literature  and  dramatic  art.  Dramas  that 
have  so  many  of  the  qualities  of  great  literature  are 
likely  to  meet  with  more  adequate  comprehension  by 
later  ages  than  by  their  own  contemporaries,  for  as 
Ben  Jonson  said,  they  are  for  all  time. 

No  further  excuse,  then,  is  needed  for  another  at- 
tempt to  interpret  some  of  the  plays  than  the  fact  that 
we  do  not  feel  satisfied  with  existing  interpretations. 
There  is  doubtless  more  in  Shakespeare  than  critics  have 
as  yet  succeeded  in  bringing  out,  and  we  shall  not  rest 
satisfied  until  we  understand  him.  ^Shakespeare  is  not 
misty  or  obscure,  but  he  is  profound,  and  it  will  take 

5 


6  Preface 

many  more  generations  of  scholars  to  exhaust  his  great 
wealth  of  meaning. 

Like  all  students  of  any  literature  I  am  indebted  to 
the  many  scholars  and  critics  who  have  worked  in  the 
field  before  me,  but  like  every  student  of  Shakespeare 
I  am  under  a  special  obligation  to  Dr.  Furness's  Vario- 
rum editions  of  the  plays.  These  scholarly  editions 
contain  most  of  the  materials  necessary  for  a  careful 
study  of  both  the  text  and  the  criticism  of  the 
plays.  But  for  the  attitude  I  have  taken  toward  the 
plays  as  works  of  dramatic  art  and  interpretations  of 
human  life  I  am  indebted  more  than  to  any  other  to  my 
former  teacher,  the  late  Professor  Hiram  Corson  of 
Cornell  University. 

The  view  of  Hamlet  herein  presented  was  first  pub- 
lished in  the  University  Magazine  (Montreal),  April, 
1910,  but  the  essay  has  been  entirely  re-written  and 
expanded  beyond  what  was  possible  within  the  narrow 
limits  of  a  magazine  article.  The  other  essays  have 
not  previously  been  published,  though  their  substance 
has  been  given  to  several  generations  of  students  in  my 
classes. 

All  quotations  of  Shakespeare's  texts  occurring  in  the 
essays  are  taken  from  Furness's  Variorum  editions, 
though  modern  spellings  have  been  adopted. 

A.  W.  CRAWFORD. 
University  of  Manitoba, 
June,  1916. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  I.  PAGE 

INTRODUCTORY — The  Interpretation  of  Shakespeare 11 

/  CHAPTER  II. 

Camlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 21 

CHAPTER  III. 
The  Merchant  of  Venice,  or  Shakespeare's  Christian  and  Jew     .     .     129 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Othello:  The  Tragedy  of  a  Moor  in  Venice 173 


eSyLf 

King  Lear:  A  Tragedy  of  Despotism 


NOTES. 

NOTE  A.    The  Staging  of  the  First  Scene  of  Hamlet     .     .     .     .  291 

NOTE  B.    Horatio,  and  his  Part  in  the  Play 293 

NOTE  C.    Hamlet,  III.  iv.  122-130 295 

NOTE  D.    Othello's  Color,  and  its  Dramatic  Significance  .     .     .  298 

INDEX  .  303 


INTRODUCTORY 

THE     INTERPRETATION     OF     SHAKESPEARE 


HAMLET,   AN  IDEAL  PRINCE 

CHAPTER  I 
INTRODUCTORY 

THE     INTERPRETATION     OF     SHAKESPEARE 


EACH   age   since   Shakespeare   has   had  its   own 
method  of  approach  to  his  plays,  and  has  con- 
sequently   had    its    own    interpretations.       The 
chief   characteristic   of   the   present   study   of   Shake- 
speare is  that  it  is  endeavoring  to  look  at  his  plays  as 
dramas   and  as   Elizabethan  productions.     There  are 
still,  however,  some  writers  of  the  present  day  who  do 
neither  of  these  things. 

There  have  been  since  the  early  days  of  the  drama 
two  types  of  dramatic  construction.  In  the  first  of 
these  the  story  has  been  the  point  of  greatest  interest; 
and  in  the  other  the  characters  have  assumed  the  great- 
est importance  and  the  story  has  become  but  a  place  for 
the  characters  to  exhibit  themselves.  The  Miracle 
Plays  were  constructed  for  the  one  purpose  of  teaching 
the  people  the  Bible  stories,  and  the  narrative  was, 
therefore,  all-important.  The  Morality  Plays,  on  the 
other  hand,  contained  only  a  very  slender  and  often 
poorly  constructed  narrative,  and  their  purpose  was  to 
set  before  the  people  the  nature  of  the  various  vir- 

11 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

tues  and  vices.  Both  types  of  plays  necessarily  con- 
sisted of  both  character  and  plot,  but  in  the  one 
the  story  was  emphasized,  and  in  the  other  the 
characters. 

This  distinction  may  be  observed  throughout  the  en- 
tire history  of  the  drama.  Some  of  the  dramatists 
make  everything  of  the  story,  while  others  make  every- 
thing of  the  characters.  Marlowe,  the  first  of  the  great 
dramatists,  places  the  dramatic  emphasis  upon  the 
story,  which  he  takes  either  from  history  or  from  some 
well-known  legend,  though  he  does  not  by  any  means 
neglect  the  elucidation  of  his  characters.  Ben  Jon- 
son's  plays,  on  the  other  hand,  are  slim  narratives, 
usually  of  his  own  invention,  upon  which  he  suspends  his 
characters.  His  plays  are  full  of  episodes  which  do  not 
help  forward  the  plot,  but  are  intended  only  as  exhibi- 
tions of  character.  Shakespeare,  in  the  construction 
of  his  plays,  and  under  the  inspiration  of  his  own 
genius,  followed  the  line  laid  out  by  Marlowe,  and  chose 
his  narratives  from  the  historians,  or  from  the  earlier 
dramatists  and  novelists.  He  seldom  invented  his  own 
stories,  as  did  Jonson,  but  utilized  the  familiar  stories, 
and  breathed  into  them  a  new  life  and  depth  of  mean* 
ing  that  made  them  the  vehicles  of  his  own  conceptions 
of  life  and  conduct. 

In  the  hand  of  Shakespeare,  then,  the  drama  is 
primarily  a  fictitious  narrative,  and  belongs  to  the 
literature  of  stories.  It  does  not  follow,  however,  that 
he  has  in  any  way  neglected  his  characters.  He  is  in- 
deed the  one  supreme  dramatist  who  develops  both  char- 
acter and  story,  but  who  develops  his  characters  always 
entirely  within  his  narratives.  Unlike  Jonson,  who  ap- 
parently first  conceived  his  characters  and  then  invented 
hls~stories"to  suit  them,  Shakespeare  seems  first  to  hav? 


Interpretation  of  Shakespeare  13 

Delected  his  narratives,  and  then  with  consummate  skill 
to  have  developed  his  characters. 

n 

Shakespeare's  dramas  are,  therefore,  first  of  all 
stories,  but  stories  in  which  the  characters  are  real 
persons  whom  we  come  to  know  only  as  we  see  their 
exits  and  their  entrances.  Forgetting  this,  critics  have 
spent  much  energy  upon  quite  useless  character  studies, 
as  if  the  dramas  were  sets  of  character  poses,  or 
studies  in  still  life.  Even  in  such  dramatists  as  Jonson 
we  know  the  characters  only  by  what  they  do/  for  they 
have  no  existence  outside  the  dramas,  and  cannot  be 
considered  apart  from  the  narratives.  But  in  Shake- 
speare's drama  the  narrative  is  the  thing.  It  is  there- 
fore fatal  to  a  proper  interpretation  of  his  works  to 
disregard,  as  some  critics  have  done,  and  to  discard,  as 
others  have  done,  certain  elements  of  the  stories  as 
having  no  significance  for  an  understanding  of  his 
plays. 

The  simple  truth  is  that  it  is  in  the  stories  rather 
than  in  the  characters  of  his  dramas  that  Shakespeare 
reveals  the  creative  imagination  and  intelligence  of 
the  true  dramatist.  The  very  fact  that  he  invented 
de  novo  very  few  of  his  stories,  but  took  them  from 
earlier  literature,  indicates  that  to  him  the  narrative 
was  the  first  requisite  for  a  drama.  In  the  case  of 
those  he  borrowed  he  frequently  changed  the  stoi'3r  to 
make  it  serve  better  the  genius  of  his  thought,  and  in 
every  instance  improved  both  the  story  and  the  char- 
acters. As  the  one  incomparable  genius,  he  under- 
stood the  true  relations  of  all  the  dramatic  elements, 
and  stamped  his  mind  and  his  view  of  life  quite  as 


14  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

much  upon  his  narratives  as  upon  his  characters. ^In 
fact,  it Js_j3ie4)L:)t_th^  of 

aa.  not  the  ID 


thexlrama,  not  the  persons  to  tEe  plot.  There  i 
ably^no  turn  oF^plot  or  developm&rftTof  narrative  that 
has  not  been  thought  out  in  a  manner  that  will  best 
develop  his  own  independent  dramatic  purpose.  He 
was  the  perfect  master  of  narrative,  and  moulded  it 
thoroughly  into  the  form  that  would  completely  ex- 
press his  thoughts  and  his  view  of  human  life. 

In  the  case  of  a  dramatist  who  gives  so  much  atten- 
tion to  the  construction  of  his  plots  and  the  develop- 
ment of  his  narratives  as  Shakespeare,  it  is  especially 
important  to  study  carefully  the  conclusions  and  issues 
of  the  dramas.  As  with  the  entire  course  of  the 
dramatic  narrative,  there  is  every  reason  for  thinking 
that  he  framed  them  in  every  case  after  his  own  ideas 
of  dramatic  appropriateness.  To  assume  with  Dr. 
Johnson  and  many  later  critics  that  Shakespeare  spent 
no  thought  on  his  conclusions  is  only  to  show  that 
thought  is  not  easily  recognized  when  expended  upon 
the  construction  of  a  drama.  There  is  no  evidence  of 
carelessness,  whatever,  and  the  only  proper  attitude  for 
the  critic  is  to  assume  that  in  every  particular  the 
conclusions  are  as  Shakespeare  wished  them.  The  des- 
tinies assigned  to  the  various  persons  of  the  drama 
probably  conform  exactly  to  his  conceptions  of  poetic 
justice.  In  Shakespeare,  character  makes  destiny,  and 
the  destiny  assigned  to  any  person  of  the  drama  is 
likely  to  be  the  dramatist's  verdict  upon  that  person's 
character.  > 


in 


It  is  high  time  for  us  to  permit  Shakespeare  to  be 
the  author  of  his  own  dramas,  and  to  regard  him  as 

S 


Interpretation  of  Shakespeare  15 

at  least  as  good  an  interpreter  of  life  as  the  critics. 
We  have  not  yet  entirely  outlived  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury notion  that  Shakespeare  is  sadly  in  need  of 
critical  revision,  though  nothing  profitable  has  ever 
come  out  of  that  conception.  Let  us  conclude  that 
Shakespeare,  like  other  great  authors,  probably  said 
what  lie  meant  and  meant  what  he  said,  and  grant  him 
the  privilege  of  saying,  "What  I  have  written  I  have 
written."  1 

But  Shakespeare  is  an  Elizabethan  dramatist.  Of 
late  there  has  arisen  a  fantastic  and  imaginative  type 
of  criticism  that  endeavors  to  make  Shakespeare  thor- 
oughly modern,  and  refuses  to  admit  Elizabethan 
notions  at  all.  There  is  no  doubt  an  absolute  value  in 
such  great  works  of  art  as  the  Shakespearean  dramas, 
but  the  best  can  be  got  from  them  only  if  they  are 
regarded  as  sixteenth  century  productions.  Shake- 
speare's ideas  have  not  been  outgrown,  but  they  are  best 
seen  in  their  original  setting.  We  have  not  advanced  so 
much  that  the  greatest  thoughts  of  the  greatest  Eng- 
lishman on  matters  of  human  life  have  been  outgrown 
in  the  process  of  time  since  Elizabeth's  day.  At  any 
rate  there  need  be  no  hesitation  in  letting  Shakespeare 
shoulder  his  own  responsibility  without  undue  solicitude 
on  the  part  of  after  generations. 

Another  phase  of  the  modernizing  spirit  is  seen  in 
the  disposition  of  some  critics  to  reject  any  plain 
interpretation  of  Shakespeare,  seemingly  on  the  as- 
sumption that  only  what  is  hazy  is  great,  and  only 

1  This  is  not  meant,  of  course,  to  disparage  that  sort  of  textual 
criticism  and  revision  whose  aim  is  to  recover  for  us  as  far  as 
possible  the  exact  words  of  the  dramatist.  It  is  only  because 
this  has  been  done  so  well  that  we  are  now  able  to  enter  with 
confidence  upon  the  larger  interpretation  of  the  real  dramatic 
import  of  the  plays. 


16  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

what  is  mystical  or  mysterious  is  profound,  and  only 
what  is  incomprehensible  is  truly  artistic.  Because 
Shakespeare  is  the  greatest  of  dramatists,  it  would 
seem  that  he  is  to  be  understood  as  not  understandable, 
and  must  be  conceived  as  inconceivably  deep.  He  is 
not  permitted  to  think  clearly,  for  this  would  not  show 
greatness;  and  he  must  not  state  his  meanings  point- 
edly, for  this  would  not  be  artistic.  No  interpretation 
can  be  allowed  which  is  obvious,  and  especially  none 
that  would  have  any  meaning  for  Elizabethans.  These 
apparent  friends  of  Shakespeare  would  make  the  in- 
terpretation of  the  dramas  as  mystical  as  the 
Baconians  would  make  the  authorship. 

IV 

Holding,  then,  that  Shakespeare's  plays  must  be 
studied  as  Elizabethan  dramas,  I  have  tried  to 
approach  them  in  the  historical  spirit,  and  have  tried 
to  understand  them  as  they  are,  without  assuming 
them  to  be  unintelligible,  and  without  devising  plans 
for  their  improvement.  Few  of  the  vexatious  questions 
of  Shakespearean  scholarship  have  any  direct  bearing 
on  problems  of  narrative,  on  which  alone  interpretation 
depends.  The  approximately  correct  text  with  which 
scholars  have  at  last  furnished  us  is  a  valuable  aid  to 
true  interpretation,  but  not  invaluable.  The  dis- 
covery of  the  sources  for  so  many  of  the  plays  is 
always  very  interesting,  and  in  many  cases  suggestive, 
for  frequently  the  most  significant  turns  of  narrative 
are  found  to  be  of  Shakespeare's  own  invention.  The 
historical  investigations  that  have  been  carried  on  have 
also  enabled  us  in  some  measure  to  see  the  plays  as  did 
the  audiences  for  whom  they  were  written,  and  this  has 


Interpretation  of  Shakespeare  17 

given  us  our  method  of  approach.  I  But  the  plays 
themselves  as  finished  works  of  art,  perfect  and  entire, 
are  after  all  the  only  works  that  come  to  us  directly 
from  the  master's  hand.  And  the  secrets  of  Shake- 
speare are  for  him  that  neither  taketh  from  nor  addeth 
to  his  wordsj 


HAMLET: 

AN    IDEAL    PEINCE 


CHAPTER    H 
HAMLET: 

AN    IDEAL    PRINCE 


Interpretation  of  the  Play. 

After  three  centuries  of  acting  and  more  than  a 
century  of  critical  study  we  are  still  wondering  what 
Shakespeare  meant  by  his  play  of  Hamlet.  More  has 
been  written  about  the  play  and  the  character  than 
about  any  historical  person,  with  a  single  exception, 
and  yet  no  satisfactory  explanation  has  been  reached, 
and  we  are  still  trying  to  solve  the  riddle  of  the  drama. 
The  acknowledged  difficulties  in  all  the  theories  have 
led  some  critics  to  the  conclusion  that  the  trouble  is 
with  the  play  itself,  and  that  no  theory  can  hope  to 
reach  a  complete  and  satisfactory  explanation.  Pro- 
fessor Lewis  has  recently  said  that  "The  difficulties  that 
confront  any  theory  about  Hamlet  induce  at  last  a 
belief  that  no  single  theory  is  admissible — that  neither 
the  play  nor  the  character  is  a  consistent  whole." 

The  usual  interpretations  of  Hamlet  make  it  a  very 
curious  and  mysterious  but  not  a  great  play,  and  the 
Prince   a  very   interesting   psychological   phenomenon 
but  noFa  great  character.      Critics  have  said  that  it  is   C 
an  inconsistent  and  rambling  play,  and  the  Prince  a  J 

1  The  Genesis  of  Hamlet,  by  Charlton  M.  Lewis,  p.  20.  New 
York,  Henry  Holt  &  Co.,  1907. 

21 


\ 


££  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

weak  and  irresolute  character.  The  intelligence  of  the 
world,  however,  has  not  been  content  to  regard  either 
the  play  or  the  character  as  an  enigma  or  as  a  common- 
place. The  persistent  conviction  of  the  play-going 
public,  which  in  the  case  of  Hamlet  means  the  intelli- 
gent and  scholarly  public,  is  that  it  is  a  great  play  and 
a  noble  character,  the  greatest  play  and  the  greatest 
character  in  all  dramatic  literature.  No  theory  can 
satisfy  the  public,  therefore,  which  does  not  see  in  the 
play  something  majestic  and  in  the  character  some- 
thing noble  and  grand. 

Whatever  may  be  our  present  difficulties  with  the 
play  or  the  character,  .there  is  no  evidence  that  either 
presented  any  great  problems  to  the  play-goers  in  the 
days  of  Elizabeth.  There  is  abundant  evidence  that 
Hamlet  was  o»e  of  the  most  popular  of  Shakespeare's 
plays  in  ffie"  dramatist's  own  day,  as  in  ours,  and  it  is 
fair  to  assume  that  it  was  not  a  puzzle  to  them,  but 
presented  some  rather  definite  meaning  about  which 
there  was  general  agreement.  It  is  altogether  unlikely 
that  it  could  attract  so  much  attention  in  such  a  prac- 
tical age  if  the  play  was  to  them  the  riddle  it  has  become 
to  us.  The  men  of  the  adventurous  and  stirring  times 
of  Elizabeth  were  not  much  given  to  speculation,  after 
the  supposed  manner  of  Hamlet,  but  were  interested 
chiefly  in  the  practical  affairs  of  the  individual  and  of 
the  nation.  The  literature  that  was  popular  in  those 
days  had  to  do  mostly  with  the  exciting  events  of  the 
time  in  church  or  state,  and  the  great  popularity  of 
Hamlet  suggests  that  the  play  may  have  had  some 
such  significance.  Great  works  of  literature  generally 
have  a  deep  meaning  for  the  age  for  which  they  are 
produced,  and  seldom  fail  entirely  of  comprehension. 
They  become  mysterious  only  to  after  generations, 


Hamlet  23 

when  the  local  and  temporal  conditions  have  changed, 
or  when  some  phase  of  their  content  has  been  over- 
looked. The  clue  must  then  be  found  in  a  reconsidera- 
tion of  the  work  and  of  the  conditions  of  its  original 
production. 

Theories  of  Hamlet. 

It  has  become  apparent  to  most  students  of  Hamlet 
that  no  existing  theory  of  the  play  is  entirely  satis- 
factory. The  usual  interpretations  all  alike  fail  to 
account  for  the  unequalled  interest  always  shown  by 
the  public  in  both  play  and  character.  The  two  out- 
standing theories  doubtless  contain  much  that  is 
valuable,  though  they  have  also  much  that  is  valueless. 
The  Goethe-Coleridge  theory,  especially,  has  done  in- 
justice to  the  character  of  Hamlet,  and  has  even  become 
a  great  obstacle  to  a  proper  interpretation  of  the 
play.  As  Professor  Corson  says:  "I  am  disposed  to 
think  that  Coleridge  and  Goethe,  by  the  substantially 
similar  theories  they  advanced,  in  regard  to  the  man, 
Hamlet,  contributed  more,  especially  Goethe  (as  he 
exercised  a  wider  authority  than  Coleridge),  toward 
shutting  off  a  sound  criticism  of  the  play,  than  any 
other  critics  or  any  other  cause." 

The  Goethe-Coleridge  theory  is  the  chief  source  of\ 
the  notion  that  Hamlet  is  a  victim  of  procrastination.      J 
These  two  greaT^critics  have  made  much  of  MamlePs'   / 
delay   in   carrying   out  the  injunctions   of   the  ghost,  C 
and  have  attributed  it  to  a  certain  irresoluteness   of  f 
character.     They  have  said  that  the  difficulties  were  all    \ 
internal^and  claim  that  HamleJt Lis,,, top. deficient  of  will     \ 
or  too  overbalanced  of  mind  to  carry  any  plans  into       I 

1  Introduction  to  Shakespeare,  by  Hiram  Corson,  p.  213.    Boston, 
D.  C.  Heath  &  Co. 


24  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

execution. 

Ulrici    was    probably    the    first    to    repudiate    such 
inherent  deficiencies  in  the  character  of  the  Prince.1 
Present-day  readers  are  ready  to  endorse  Ulrici,  and 
to  assert  that  on  the  contrary  Hamlet  is  "a  power- 
fully and  healthily  endowed  nature,  with  the  most  bril- 
liant gifts  of  mind  and  heart."  2     Professor  Bradley 
says  he  is  "a  heroic,  terrible  figure.     He  would  have 
been  formidable  to  Othello  or  Macbeth."  3     Professor 
Lewis  tells  us  that  "In  Kyd's  play  Hamlet  was  not 
guilty  of  procrastination,"  and  he  says  he  "cannot  be- 
.    lieve  Hamlet  is  to  blame  for  any  irresoluteness."     It  is 
^\   also  true,  as  he  further  says,  that  "audiences  do  not 
j    condemn  Hamlet  as  a  weakling;  they  are  with  him  all 
U  the  time."  4 

The  attempts  to  make  it  appear  that  Hamlet  is  in- 
capable, that  he  is  guilty  of  indecision  and  procrastina- 
tion, have  not  satisfied  the  public  any  better  than  the 
critics.     Jn  the  early  part  of  the  play  he  seems  to  them 
exceedingly  forceful^ and~capable  &T  almost  anything. 
The  play  impresses  audiences  with  the  idea  that  he  is 
/  laboring  under  some  sort  of  restraint.     Hamlet  does 
j  not  have  to  urge  himself  forward,  but  to  hold  himself 
V^back.     His    words   after   his   first  interview  with   the 
players,   that  have  been  taken  as   an  excuse  for  his 
inability  to  act,  are  rather  a  bitter  self-reproach  for 
not  acting  without  further  evidence  of  the  king's  guilt, 
an  upbraiding  of  himself  for  permitting  himself  to  be 
restrained.     In  the  next  moment,  however,  he  sees  the 
folly  of  this,  and  satisfies  himself  that  it  is  much  better 

1  Cf.  Furness,  Variorum  Hamlet,  Vol.  II,  pp.  392-3. 

2  Oechelhauser,  English  trans,  in  Furness,  II.,  p.  341. 

8  Shakespearean    Tragedy,    pp.    102-3.    London,    2nd    edition, 
1905. 
4  The  Genesis  of  Hamlet,  pp.  88,  92,  96. 


Hamlet  25 

to  wait  for  further  evidence.     The  spirit  he  has  seen 
may  be  the  devil,  but  the  play  will  reveal  beyond  doubt 
the  king's  guilt  or  innocence.     It  is  the  part  of  wis-£ 
dom,  then,  to  wait  for  the  evidence. 

These  elements  of  the  situation  have  been  much  better 
understood  by  the  TQein-'yVpr^pr  Ihenry.  (This  theory 
definitely  repudiates  the  view  of  Hamlet's"  character 
that  regards  him  as  incapable,  and  as  a  weakling.)  It 
views  the  difficulties  of  the  prince  as  external  rather 
than  internal,  and  explains  the  delay  as  necessary  in 
order  to  procure  adequate  corroboration  of  the  revela- 
tions of  the  ghost.  Hamlet  has  had  suspicions  which 
are  verified  only  by  the  ghost,  though  by  nothing  that 
would  convince  any  one  but  himself,  and  not  sufficient 
to  warrant  even  him  in  taking  the  life  of  his  uncle. 
The  ghost,  too,  had  told  him  not  to  harm  his  mother, 
and  this  very  greatly  hampers  him  in  the  execution  of 
his  task.  To  strike  the  king  without  at  the  same 
time  striking  the  queen  requires  the  highest  wisdom  and 
the  most  dexterous  skill. 

Werder  does  not  regard  Hamlet's  task  as  the_Jnere 
killing  of  the  king,  but  the  execution  of  justice  upon 
the  king.  He  says,  "His  task  is  justly  to  punish  the 
murderer  of  his  father  .  .  .  and  to  satisfy  the  Danes 
of  the  righteousness  of  his  action."  1  Hamlet  is  called 
upon  to  "revenge"  his  father,  not  merely  to  kill  the 
murderer  of  his  father.  The  process  of  vengeance  is 
very  different  from  the  act  of  slaying.  To  kill  the 
king  at  any  time  he  chanced  to  meet  him  might  be 
comparatively  easy,  but  it  would  be  only  "hire  and 
salary,  not  revenge"  (III.  iii.  79),  and  would  only  com- 
plicate and  not  fulfil  his  true  mission.  Hamlet's  task  is 

lThe  Heart  of  Hamlet's  Mystery,  English  trans,  by  Wilder, 
p.  54.  New  York,  1907. 


26  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

s- 

N  more  than  to  take  the  life  of  the  king.     H_ 
*jj?  him  to  justice  and  if  possible  to  confession^  that  he  may 
hiinsejfjffipej^  justified  before  the_j)eople?  and  before 

\^   his  own_conscieja^e. 

This  theory,  then,  gives  a  better  explanation  of 
Hamlet's  conception  of  his  duty  than  any  other,  and 
fails  only  because  it  comes  short  of  the  full  explana- 
tion. AVerder  does  not  seem  to  understand  the  larger 

Nj^social   and   political    aims    of   Hamlet,    and   therefore 

'  ^cannot  assign  a  motive  sufficient  to  account  for  his 
course  throughout  the  play.  On  the  Werder  theory, 
the  play  must  be  called  a  tragedy  of  failure,  for  Hamlet 
never  did  succeed  in  publicly  convicting  the  king  of  his 
crime  and  of  justifying  his  execution.  The  theory  has 
made  a  notable  advance  upon  the  Goethe-Coleridge 
theory,  but  cannot  be  said  to  have  plucked  out  the 
heart  of  Hamlet's  mystery.  Both  of  these  classic 
theories  fail,  as  all  others  fail,  because  they  persistently 
ignore  certain  parts  of  the  play  as  written  by  Shake- 
speare. Some  of  these  elements  are  in  the  original 
sources  of  the  drama,  and  some  of  them  have  been  added 
by  Shakespeare  himself.  It  is  these  overlooked  fea- 
tures of  his  play  that  distinguish  Shakespeare  from 
all  other  dramatists,  and  raise  his  play  above  the  many 
others  of  personal  revenge,  and  place  it  in  a  class 
entirely  by  itself.  And  it  is  these  parts  that  alone  can 
furnish  the  key  to  the  entire  mystery. 

The  Mystery  of  Life. 

With  the  failure  of  all  theories  to  explain  Hamlet, 
some  recent  critics  are  disposed  to  give  up  the  pur- 
suit and  are  trying  to  content  themselves  with  the 
thought  that  perhaps  after  all  the  dramatist  was  only 
endeavoring  to  present  the  mystery  of  life  and  to  por- 


Hamlet  27 

tray  only  its  deep  inscrutability.  Professor  Dowden 
has  said  that  Hamlet  is  not  an  enigma  or  a  puzzle, 
but  "a  mystery."  He  says,  "Shakspere  created  it  a 
mystery,  and  therefore  it  is  forever  suggestive;  for- 
ever suggestive  and  never  wholly  explicable." 

In  reference  to  King  Lear •  ITie  same  writer  expounds 
his  conception  of  Shakespeare's  art  in  these  words :  "IO 
life  proposes  inexplicable  riddles,  Shakspere's  art  must! 
propose  them  also."  2    If  life  is  a  mystery,  such  critics  * 
would   say,   we   must   be   content   to  let   Shakespeare 
present  it  as  such.     We  do  not  understand  our  own 
life,  these  critics  imply,  and  we  need  not  wonder  that 
we  cannot  understand  Hamlet's  problem.     To  us  as  to 
Hamlet,  the  mystery  is   complete,   and  both  problem 
and  solution  are  hidden  from  us,  the  one  as  inscrutable 
as  the  other. 

This  kind  of  criticism,  however,  returns  upon  itself. 
We  are  much  worse  off  if  it  is  life  rather  than  the  play 
that  is  the  great  mystery.  The  desire  to  solve  the 
riddle  of  the  play  is  only  that  it  may  throw  some  light 
upon  the  problem  of  existence.  But  if  the  purpose  of 
the  play  is  only  to  confirm  the  mystery  of  life,  then  the 
darkness  is  only  deepened,  and  the  confusion  is  worse 
confounded.  This  view  would  forget  that  Shakespeare 
was  a  man  writing  for  men,  about  problems  of  human 
existence,  and  not  a  Creator  endowing  his  work  with 
life.  All  human  thought  about  life,  whether  in  art  or 
literature  or  philosophy  is  an  attempt  to  understand 
man  and  his  life,  not  to  draw  a  veil  of  mystery  over  it 
and  declare  it  inscrutable.  It  would  be  an  entirely 
false  view  of  art  that  would  regard  it  as  its  business  to 

1  Shakspere — His   Mind    and   Art,   by   Edward    Dowden,    13th 
ed.,  London,  1906,  p.  126. 
*Ibid.,  p.  258. 


28  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

\ 

declare  its  subject-matter  mysterious.  A  drama  that 
would  attempt  to  portray  only  the  mystery  of  life 
would  really  mean  nothing,  and  would  have  no  reason 
for  its  existence.  A  criticism  that  sees  nothing  in 
Hamlet  but  the  inscrutability  of  life  thereby  admits  its 
own  failure  and  its  own  inscrutability.  An  interpreta- 
tion that  neither  explains  the  play  nor  the  life  that  the 
play  attempts  to  depict  has  little  right  to  exist.  Life 
may  be  a  mystery,  but  human  thought  and  art  stub- 
bornly refuse  to  admit  it,  and  their  very  stubbornness 
constitutes  their  right  to  speak  to  us.  Hamlet  may 
be  to  us  a  mystery,  but  it  is  only  because  we  have  failed 
to  understand  it,  and  not  because  it  is  inscrutable.  In 
a  play  so  universally  lauded  we  suspect  there  is  em- 
bodied a  view  of  life  that  it  will  be  worth  our  while  to 
understand.  And  the  fact  that  criticism  has  not  yet 
solved  the  mystery  only  serves  to  invite  us  to  renewed 
efforts  to  interpret  its  view  of  life. 

The  Play  and  the  Sources. 

The  chief  material  for  the  interpretation  of  a 
Shakespearean  play  is  always  the  dramatist's  own 
words,  so  far  as  textual  criticism  can  furnish  them. 
In  the  case  of  Hamlet,  as  of  the  other  plays,  we  doubt- 
less have  inherited  a  fairly  correct  copy  of  the  acting 
version,  and  the  slight  discrepancies  and  inconsistencies 
within  the  text  itself  are  likely  of  quite  minor  impor- 
tance, and  do  not  affect  the  general  meaning  of  the 
play.1  With  the  text  before  us,  then,  there  seems  no 
good  reason  why  we  cannot  understand  the  play,  and 
get  from  it  the  meaning  the  dramatist  intended.  If  we 
hit  upon  the  right  method  of  interpretation,  a  careful 
study  of  the  text,  the  whole  text,  and  nothing  but  the 
*Cf.  Tolman.  Views  About  Hamlet,  pp.  33  if.  Boston,  1906. 


Hamlet  29 

text,    should    disclose    to    us    the    heart    of    Hamlet's 
mystery. 

There  are  many  other  things,  however,  that  might 
help  us  in  understanding  the  play.  Great  assistance 
might  come  from  a  knowledge  of  the  production  of 
the  play  under  the  direct  supervision  of  the  drama- 
tist himself,  but  the  records  are  too  meagre  to  be  of  any 
real  value.  Researches  into  the  literature  and  history 
of  Elizabethan  England  have  added  much  to  our 
knowledge  of  the  period,  and  have  enabled  us  to  see  the 
play  in  connection  with  the  general  and  theatrical 
conditions  of  the  times,  but  these  have  not  unravelled 
the  secret  of  the  play  for  us.  The  comparisons  of  the 
play  with  other  plays  of  the  type,  the  revenge  plays, 
have  not  brought  us  much  nearer  to  the  heart  of 
Hamlet.  Shakespeare  always  seems  to  write  above  tlh 
level  of  thought  and  passion  of  all  other  dramatists. 
And  the  search  for  the  "sources"  of  Shakespeare's 
plays  in  the  works  of  earlier  dramatists  and  authors 
has  so  far  yielded  nothing  of  very  great  value.  What 
we  may  lack  through  the  loss  of  Kyd's  Hamlet  it  is 
impossible  to  say,  but  the  meagre  results  of  the  com- 
parisons of  other  plays  with  their  known  sources  leads 
inevitably  to  the  conviction  that  Kyd's  play  could  not 
furnish  the  key  to  Shakespeare's  Hamlet.  Shake- 
speare seems  to  make  quite  independent  use  of  all  the 
material  he  finds  in  earlier  stories  or  plays.  These, 
however,  may  give  us  a  point  of  view  for  the  story  and 
serve  as  a  valuable  introduction  to  the  dramatist's 
own  work. 

Though  we  cannot  unravel  the  mystery  of  Hamlet 
by  studies  outside  the  play  itself,  it  is  nevertheless  true 
that  sometimes  very  valuable  hints  or  suggestions  can 
be  found  in  the  sources  from  which  plays  have  been 


30  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

made.  Shakespeare  does  not  often  change  the  inner 
character  of  a  story,  bat  rather  deepens  and  broadens 
its  meaning,  and  gives  it  a  larger  significance.  Some- 
times, as  in  the  case  of  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  he 
brushes  aside  the  more  recent  renderings  of  a  story, 
and  goes  back  and  gives  a  new  interpretation  of  its 
original  meaning.  He  sees  a  truth  hidden  in  an  old 
story  that  has  not  been  fully  developed,  and  he  puts 
it  through  the  crucible  of  his  own  imagination,  and 
brings  out  its  hidden  wealth.  This,  apparently,  is  what 
he  has  done  in  the  case  of  Hamlet.  The  original  story, 
however,  is  to  him  only  a  hint,  and  the  more  vital 
parts  of  the  drama  are  his  own  contribution. 

Of  the  probable  sources  of  the  story  of  Hamlet,  only 
two  are  accessible,  the  original  story  as  told  in  the 
Historia  Danica  of  Saxo  Grammaticus  and  the  Hys- 
torie  of  Hamblet,  by  Francis  de  Belleforest.  Kyd's 
play  of  Hamlet  has  been  lost,  and  the  German  play, 
Fratricide  Punished,  very  probably  has  either  a  com- 
mon source  with  Hamlet  or  is  a  later  version  of  the 
story.  We  must  look  for  the  "sources"  of  Shake- 
speare's play,  then,  only  to  the  Historia  of  Saxo,  and 
the  Hystorie  of  Belleforest.  It  is  quite  remarkable 
that  Saxo,  Belleforest,  and  Shakespeare  contain  fea- 
tures not  to  be  found  in  the  German  play,  and  these 
will  be  seen  to  be  of  great  value  in  our  interpretation. 

Even  in  Saxo  the  revenge  of  the  murder  of  his  father 
is  much  more  than  an  individual  and  personal  matter 
with  Hamlet.  The  killing  of  the  king  not  only  accom- 
plishes an  act  of  individual  justice,  but  is  at  the  same 
time  a  deliverance  of  the  country  from  the  rule  of  a 
king  who  is  both  a  murderer  and  a  corrupting  influence 
in  the  life  and  politics  of  Denmark.  Claudius,  or 
Fengo  as  he  is  called  in  Saxo,  is  an  evil  influence  in  the 


Hamlet  31 

country,  and  his  rule  is  in  very  great  contrast  with  that 
of  the  elder  Hamlet  who  preceded  and  with  that  of  the 
younger  Hamlet  who  follows  him,  for  in  Saxo  the  prince 
lives  to  become  the  next  king.     As  Latham  says,  "The} 
Hamlet  of  the  fourth  book  is  no  weakling  in  any  sensei 
of  the  word,  neither  is  he  either  fool  or  idiot,  natural  orV 
pretending.     On  the  contrary,  he  is  a  warrior  of  the  f 
true  Norse  type,  and  a  politician  and  strategist  of  un- 
rivalled cunning."  *      He  seems,  indeed,  to  be  the  type  I 

-^ 


of  the  National  Hero,  and  was  in  character  and 
duct  a  sort  of  Danish  Prince  Arthur. 

In  Belief  orest,  however,  this  conception  is  still  more 
clearly  in  the  mind  of  the  writer.  Here  Hamlet  defi- 
nitely poses  as  the  deliverer  of  the  people  in  his  revenge 
upon  the  king.  After  he  has  killed  the  king  he  ad- 
dresses the  people,  speaking  of  himself  as  "the  author 
of  your  deliverance,"  and  telling  them  "they  should 
be  thankfull  for  such  and  so  great  a  benefit  as  the  de- 
struction of  a  tyrant,  and  the  overthrow  of  the  place 
that  was  the  storehouse  of  his  villainies,  and  the  true 
receptacle  of  all  the  theeves  and  traytors  in  this  king- 
dome."  He  proceeds  to  tell  them  that  in  killing  the  king 
he  had  two  motives  ;  first,  "vengeance  for  the  violence 
done  unto  my  lord  and  father,"  and,  secondly,  "for  the 
subjection  and  servitude  that  I  perceived  in  this  coun- 
try." He  then  explains  to  them  that  he  did  the  deed 
himself  out  of  a  desire  to  spare  the  people.  "But  it 
liked  me  best  to  do  it  myself  alone,  thinking  it  a  good 
thing  to  punish  the  wicked  without  hazarding  the  lives 
of  my  friends  and  loyall  subjects,  not  desiring  to  bur- 
then other  mens  shoulders  with  this  weight;  for  that  I 
made  account  to  effect  it  well  inough  without  exposing 

1  Two  Dissertations  on  the  Hamlet  of  Saxo  Grammaticus  and 
of  Shakespeare,  by  R.  G.  Latham,  p.  49,  London,  1872. 


32  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

any  man  into  danger,  und  by  publishing  the  same  should 
clean  have  overthrowne  the  device,  which  at  this  present 
I  have  so  happily  brought  to  passe."  1  Then,  after 
further  reviewing  the  career  and  character  of  his 
murderous  uncle,  he  says,  "It  is  I  that  have  taken  away 
the  infamy  of  my  contry,  and  extinguished  the  fire 
that  imbraced  your  fortunes.  ...  I  was  grieved  at 
the  injurie  committed  both  to  my  father  and  my  native 
country.  ...  I  am  the  author  of  your  preserva- 
tion." 2 

f     It  appears,  then,  that  in  these  two  earliest  known 
/  forms  of  the  old  Danish  legend,  Hamlet  is  portrayed 
;    as  a  national  hero,  and  the  deliverer  of  his  country  from 
^the  corruption  and  servitude  of  the  wicked  king,  his 
uncle,  and  that  he  accomplished  this  end  by  his  own 
valor  and  without  hazarding  the  lives  of  the  people  of 
Denmark.     No  wonder,  then,  as  the  story  proceeds  to 
tell,  he  "wan  the  affections  of  the  nobility,  that  some 
wept  for  pity,  other  for  joy,  to  see  the  wisdome  and 
gallant  spirit  of  Hamlet."        These  noble  deeds  make 
Hamlet  a  real  national  hero,  and  it  is  this  spirit  Shake- 
speare has  apparently  incorporated  into  his  play,  and 
that  up  to  this  time  has  not  been  appreciated  by  critics 
and  readers. 

The  Play  and  the  Prince. 

With  this  conception  of  the  story,  it  becomes  im- 
portant to  study  very  closely  the  situation  as  de- 
veloped in  the  early  scenes  of  Hamlet*  The  dramatic 
exposition  will  prove  to  give  us  the  right  point  of  view 

1The  Hystorie  of  Hamblet,  English  version  of  1608,  reprinted 
in  Furness's  Variorum  Hamlet,  II.,  p.  111. 
*Op.  cit.f  II.,  pp.  112-3. 
•  Op.  cit.,  II.,  p.  113. 
4C/.  Note  A,  pp.  291-3,  infra. 


Hamlet  33 

for  a  proper  understanding  of  the  play.  A  good  deal 
of  the  trouble  comes  from  the  fact  that  the  play  has 
not  been  approached  in  the  right  manner.  With  few 
exceptions  the  existing  interpretations  of  the  play 
attempt  to  understand  the  drama  by  first  trying  to 
understand  the  character.  The  critics  seem  to  forget 

j          i    — *  — .  f> 

that  the  play  is}  notj  [the  history  of  a  certain  Prince  of 
Denmark,  but  a  work  of  imagination,  based  as  we  see 
upon  legends,  but  constructed  or  reconstructed  accord- 
ing to  the  dramatist's  views  of  human  life.  Hamlet* 
like  all  other  dramas,  is  "an  arranged  spectacle"  in 
which  there  are  many  persons,  but  one  .chief  person. 
The  Prince,  Hamlet,  cannot  be  said  to  be__jJig  play? 
though  heiiTthe  one  person  upon  whom  the  action  of 
the  play" turns":  "We  should  try,  then,  first,  to  untie r- 
stand  the  drama ;  and  then"we  may  hope  to  understand 
tfie  man  "Hamlet:  The  Prince  is  "not  the  play,  though 
lie  is  the  chief  character  of  the  play. 

If  Shakespeare  in  this  play  has  adhered  to  his  usual 
practice  in  striking  the  key-note  in  the  first  scene,1 
then  we  must  believe  that  the  initial  situation  of  the 
play  has  developed  before  the  Prince  makes  his  ap- 
pearance. Hamlet  comes  upon  the  stage  for  the  first 
time  in  the  second  scene,  after  many  of  the  dramatic 
elemen£js~have  already  been  introduced  into  the  situa- 
tion. [  The  condition  of  affairs  in  Denmark,  the  rela- 
tion  of  Denmark  to  Norway,  and  the  ambitions 
young  Prince  Fortinbras,  are  all  carefully  outlined  by 
the  dramatist  before  Hamlet  comes  upon  the  staged 
Furthermore,  the  ghost  appears  to  others  on  three 
several  nights  before  it  appears  to  him,  and  he  receives 
his  commission  only  in  the  fourth  scene.  The  dramatic 
1  Of.  "Shakespeare's  Opening  Scenes  as  Striking  the  Key-note  of 
Dramatic  Action  and  Motive,"  by  C.  W.  Hodell,  in  Poet  Lore, 
Vol.  VI.,  1894,  pp.  169,  337,  and  452. 


34  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

situation  is  therefore  developed  in  large  part  before  he 
appears,  and  his  interview  with  the  ghost  seems  only 
the  completing  factor.  ;  It  would  seem,  then,  that  Ham- 
let is  not  the  play  in  himself,  but  only  a  factor  in  the 
solution  of  the  problem,  though  a  factor  so  large  that 
he  soon  dominates  everything  and  becomes  the  dra- 
matic hero. 


n 

Hamlet's  Silence. 

A  great  many  students  of  the  play  have  expressed 
surprise  that  nowhere  does  Hamlet  give  distinct  utter- 
ance to  his  conception  of  the  nature  of  the  task 
assigned  him  by  the  ghost.  He  nowhere  explains  clear- 
ly his  own  motives,  not  even  in  his  private  talks  with  his 
friend,  Horatio,  nor  yet  in  his  soliloquies.  This  may  be 
due  in  part  to  the  fact"  that  Hamlet  is  not  the  play. 
As  we  have  seen,  the  problem  of  the  play  cannot  be 
solved  by  reference  only  to  the  prince.  The  situation 
of  the  play  is  developed  before  he  comes  on  the  stage, 
and  as  we  shall  see  later  the  full  solution  is  reached 
only  after  his  death.  Moreover,  the  character  of  his 
troubles  and  his  task  of  revenge  are  of  such  a  personal 
nature  that  he  cannot  reveal  them  even  to  Horatio. 
The  fact  that  his  troubles  are  only  suspicions,  that 
cannot  be  verified  at  present,  forbids  a  declaration  even 
to  his  bosom  friend. 

Hamlet  very  properly  has  the  habit  of  silence.  There 
is  about  him,  as  has  been  said  "an  habitual  secrecy" 
that  resists  all  our  prying  inquisitiveness.  He  scarcely 
deigns  even  to  mention  his  suspicions  to  himself,  ai.a 
his  soliloquies  do  not  disclose  fully  his  inner  thoughts. 


/  Hamlet  35 

In  his  first  soliloquy,  which  occurs  in  his  first  appear- 
ance   on    the    stage,    Hamlet   denounces    his    mother's 
"o'erhasty  marriage,"  as  if  this  were  all  that  troubled 
\  himT Efts'  great  grief  almost'  breaks  his  heart,  yet  he 
I  concludes  by  reminding  himself  that  he  must  not  speak 
out,  saying, 


i 


"But  break  my  heart,  for  I  must  hold  my  tongue!" 

(I.  ii.  159.) 

In  all  his  associations  with  his  friends,  moreover, 
he  enjoins  them  to  the  strictest  secrecy  regarding  any 
revelations  made  to  them.  When  Horatio  and  the 
others  tell  Hamlet  of  the  appearance  of  the  ghost,  he 
draws  from  them  all  the  information  he  can,  and  then 
pledges  them  to  the  utmost  secrecy,  saying,  "Give  it 
an  understanding,  but  no  tongue."  (I.  ii.  £49.)  After 
he  has  himself  seen  the  ghost  they  ask  him,  "What 
news,  my  lord?"  But  he  denies  them,  saying,  "No ;  you 
will  reveal  it."  He  then  seems  to  think  of  telling 
them,  first  pledging  them  to  secrecy,  and  begins  by 
saying,  "There's  ne'er  a  villain  dwelling  in  all  Den- 
mark," and  then  changing  his  mind  for  fear  they  will 
disclose  it,  he  adds  indifferently,  "But  he's  an  arrant 
knave."  A  few  moments  later,  after  assuring  them, 
"It  is  an  honest  ghost,"  he  makes  them  swear  solemnly 
upon  the  cross  of  his  sword,  "Never  make  known  what 
you  have  seen  to-night."  * 

Hamlet  finds  it  impossible  even  to  make  a  confidant  of 
Horatio,  for  not  only  is  his  trouble  only  a  suspicion,  but 
it  is  of  the  most  intimate  personal  kind,  involving  as  it 
does  the  honor  of  his  mother.  Fortunately,  the  friend- 
ship between  the  two  is  so  genuine  and  strong  that  Ho- 
riitio  remains  his  trusty  friend  without  a  knowledge  of 
1 1.  v.  117-8,  123-4,  136,  143. 


3fi  JId-inlt'i\   an   Ideal   Prince 

all  that  is  in  Hamlet's  mind  and  heart.  It  is  clear,  how- 
ever, that  Horatio  knows  much  more  than  the  others, 
and  more  than  Hamlet  is  reported  as  telling  him.  At 
the  end  of  the  play,  when  he  is  dying,  Hamlet  solemnly 
charges  Horatio  after  his  death  to 

"report  me  and  my  cause  aright 
To  the  unsatisfied."  (V.  ii.  326-7.) 

/  Then  after  giving  his  voice  for  the  election  of  Fortin- 
y  bras  as  the  next  king  of  Denmark,  he  dies  with  these 
\^  words  on  his  lips,  "the  rest  is  silence."  (V.  ii.  345. )l 
No  words  of  Hamlet,  then,  fully  disclose  his  thoughts 
and  his  motives,  nor  is  it  necessary  that  they  should. 
All  his  words  are  naturally  spoken  with  the  closest 
reference  to  the  entire  situation  and  the  conditions 
about  him.  These  conditions  must,  therefore,  interpret 
for  us  his  words  and  his  motives,  and  if  properly  under- 
stood will  make  his  words  clear.  Shakespeare  does  not 
find  it  necessary  to  have  Hamlet  openly  and  explicitly 
declare  his  thoughts.  But  he  does  take  particular 
pains  to  explain  very  fully  the  dramatic  situation  and 
all  the  surroundings  of  Hamlet,  and  these  give  the 
requisite  meaning  to  his  words.  Itjisjthe..  supreme  art 
of  Shakespeare  to  delineate  his  characters  in  the  most 
intimate  relation  to  the  situation  and  movement  of  his 
dramas,  and  never  in  isolation  or  apart  from  the  action 
of  his  plays.  In  the  case  of  Hamlet,  there  are  fewer 
explicit  words  than  usual  in  his  plays,  and  probably  for 
the  reason  that  he  has  more  carefully  elaborated  the 
situation  that  should  give  the  words  and  actions  the 
meaning  required.  It  is  only  in  these  dramatic  sur- 
roundings that  we  can  find  the  clue  to  the  character 
and  motive  of  Hamlet,  and  these  the  critics  have  not 
been  able  to  understand. 
1  Of.  Quotation  from  Edward  Gans,  in  Furness,  Vol.  II.,  p.  292. 


Hamlet  37 

The  "External  Relations  of  the  Persons." 

Largely  from  the  influence  and  example  of  Goethe, 
nearly  all  criticism  of  Hamlet  has  overlooked  and 
ignored  the  dramatist's  careful  exposition  of  the  situa- 
tion as  given  in  the  first  scene  of  the  play.  Goethe 
declared  the  initial  situation  of  the  play  to  be  a  useless 
and  inartistic  encumbrance  to  the  story,  and  led  the 
way  in  disregarding  it  in  the  interpretation.  This  first 
scene,  however,  contains  the  dramatist's  own  exposition 
of  his  play,  and  outlines  for  us  the  environment  in  which 
Hamlet  is  to  perform  his  part.  The  fallacy  has  un- 
fortunately been  passing  current  among  scholars  that 
Shakespeare  was  very  careless  in  reconstructing  the  old 
plays  upon  which  he  worked,  and  they  have  therefore 
felt  no  necessity  of  paying  the  strictest  attention  to 
all  the  elements  that  he  works  into  his  dramatic  expo- 
sitions. But  it  is  now  high  time  to  cease  ignoring 
whatever  he  has  written,  especially  what  he  has  himself 
added  to  the  material  that  came  to  his  hand.  The 
criticism  that  attempts  to  find  all  of  Shakespeare's 
thought  without  studying  carefully  all  his  words  has 
utterly  failed,  as  was  inevitable,  and  should  now  be 
abandoned. 

As  a  consequence  of  this  misconception,  no  adequate 
explanation  has  ever  been  offered  of  many  elements 
that  the  dramatist  has  with  seemingly  great  care  out- 
lined in  the  first  scene  of  the  play.  The  relations  of 
the  two  kingdoms  of  Denmark  and  Norway,  which  the 
play  explains  very  fully,  have  never  been  s££n  to  have 
any  significance  for  the  play  as  a  whole.  (l?he  part  of\ 
young  Fortinbras  has  in  the  same  manner  never  beeivv 
made  clear,  and  he  is  usually  treated  as  a  very  unim- 
portant incident.  This  is  surely  a  great  mistake,  for 
almost  the  entire  first  scene  is  given  over  to  these 


f 


38  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

topics,  and  they  constantly  recur  to  the  very  end  of 
the  play,  wj^re_^allv_the^crown  of  Denmark  passes 
to  ^JPrin^ceJFortmJbtrjis.  This  fiery  young  warrior^seems 
always  to  be  h^ve^rin^_pver  Djenmark,  like  an  eagle  over 
its  intended  prey.  He  appears  directly  in  the  fourth 
&nd  fifth  acts,  and  is  a  factor  in  every  act  but  the  third, 
in  which  the  ghost  comes  to  whet  Hamlet's  "almost 

dramatist  lTalTHone~e~ver^hing 


possible  to  indicate  that  great  significance  attaches  to 
the  relations  of  the  two  kingdoms,  and  of  the  two 
princes. 

Goethe  spoke  of  these  circumstances  surrounding 
Hamlet  as  the  "external  relations  of  the  persons,"  and 
declared  that  Shakespeare  had  managed  them  very 
badly,  and  to  no  dramatic  purpose.  He  made  bold  to 
say  that  "All  these  circumstances  and  events  would 
be  very  fit  for  expanding  and  lengthening  a  novel;  but 
here  they  injure  exceedingly  the  unity  of  the  piece, 
particularly  as  the  hero  has  no  plan,  and  are,  in  conse- 
quence, entirely  out  of  place."  He  proposes  concern- 
ing "these  external,  single,  dissipated,  and  dissipating 
motives,  to  cast  them  all  at  once  away,  and  substitute 
a  solitary  one  instead  of  them."  He  then  elaborates 
his  plan,  which  is,  briefly,  to  eliminate  all  reference  to 
Wittenberg  and  the  university  and  to  connect  Horatio 
directly  with  Norway  by  making  him  the  son  of  the 
viceroy,  and  "When  Hamlet  tells  Horatio  of  his  uncle's 
crime,  Horatio  counsels  him  to  go  to  Norway  in  his 
company,  to  secure  the  affections  of  the  army,  and 
return  in  warlike  force."  l  Goethe  scarcely  even  takes 
the  trouble  to  consider  all  the  references  to  the  rela- 
tions of  Denmark  and  Norway,  but  brushes  them  aside 
as  entirely  out  of  place. 
1  Wilhekn  Meister.  Book  V.  chapt.  IV.  Carlyle's  translation. 


Hamlet  39 

The  changes  which  Goethe  proposed  to  make  might 
conceivably  produce  an  excellent  play,  for  Goethe's 
genius  may  have  been  equal  to  the  task.  But  the  re- 
sulting drama  would  no  longer  be  Shakespeare's,  and  it 
would  have  no  more  relation  to  his  play  than  his 
Hamlet  has  to  Kyd's.  It  might  still  be  called  Hamlet, 
but  the  motive  and  the  character  of  the  prince  would 
be  changed  and  would  have  no  relation  to  the  one  we 
know.  The  futility  of  these  suggestions  upon  the  part 
of  Goethe  serves  only  to  make  clear  the  difficulties 
critics  have  experienced  in  interpreting  these  "external 
relations  of  the  persons."  It  is,  therefore,  of  the  high- 
est importance  to  scrutinize  these  elements  of  the  play 
with  the  utmost  care,  to  see  if  after  all  they  do  not 
constitute  a  very  significant  part  of  the  dramatic 
situation.  If  they  do,  then  we  may  expect  them  to 
contain  the  true  motive  of  the  play  and  offer  the  key 
to  the  solution  of  its  mystery. 

It  should  be  observed  at  the  outset  that  these 
troublesome  "external  relations"  are  Shakespeare's  own 
contribution  to  the  story,  for  there  is  no  reference  to 
young  Fortinbras  in  any  of  the  extant  possible  sources 
of  the  drama,  and  no  such  exposition  of  the  existing 
relations  of  the  two  kingdoms.  The  Hystorie  of 
Hamblet  alone  refers  to  Norway,  but  only  to  tell  how 
Hamlet's  father  had  overcome  the  king  of  Norway 
before  the  opening  of  the  story.  No  hint  is  given  of 
the  present  strained  relations  of  the  two  kingdoms.  If 
Shakespeare  had  found  such  relations  in  the  story  he 
adopted,  it  is  conceivable  that  he  might  have  left  them 
standing  in  little  or  no  connection  with  the  motive  of 
the  play,  as  he  may  have  done  with  certain  other  minor 
features  of  the  story.  But  when  he  added  them  himself, 
they  must  certainly  be  considered  as  having  a  very  vital 


40  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

relation  to  the  meaning  of  the  play.  The  reference  to 
Norway  in  the  earlier  story  seems  to  have  furnished 
him  with  a  hint,  and  he  wove  carefully  into  his  play  the 
relations  of  the  two  kingdoms. 

These  new  elements  of  the  story  Shakespeare  utilized 
from  the  first,  for  they  appear  in  the  First  Quarto 
substantially  as  in  the  First  Folio.  These  deliberate 
additions  to  the  story  furnished  an  encompassing  situa- 
tion to  the  play,  and  supplied  the  elements  that  lifted 
Hamlet's  motive  from  the  low  level  of  personal  revenge 
to  the  high  plane  of  national  purpose.  This  enables 
Shakespeare  to  endow  his  hero  with  a  much  loftier  and 
nobler  passion,  and  to  connect  the  action  of  the  play 
with  a  more  truly  dramatic  situation.  The  dramatist 
had  previously  done  a  similar  thing  in  Romeo  and 
Juliet,  where  he  made  love  serve  the  purpose  of  recon- 
ciling two  rival  houses,  and  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice, 
where  he  made  the  love  of  Portia  and  Bassanio  the 
means  of  frustrating  the  cruel  revenge  of  Shylock. 
Shakespeare  was  never  satisfied  with  being  a  mere 
psychologist  of  human  passion,  but  contented  himself 
only  when  he  could  portray  also  its  moral  and  spiritual 
meaning. 

The  Dramatic  Situation. 

The  greetings  in  the  opening  lines  of  the  first  act 
seem  to  indicate  an  unusual  watchfulness  and  nervous- 
ness on  the  part  of  the  guards,  due,  as  later  conversa- 
tion discloses,  to  the  previous  appearances  of  the 
ghost,  and  to  the  warlike  state  of  the  kingdom.  Den- 
mark, it  seems,  is  threatened  with  the  revolt  of  Norway, 
which  had  become  a  tributary  kingdom  under  the  late 
king  Hamlet.  This  old  king  was  a  great  patriot,  it 
would  appear,  and  now  his  ghost  shows  itself  among 


Hainlet  41 

the  guards  of  the  palace,  as  if  to  inspire  or  to  take 
part  in  the  defence  of  the  kingdom.  With  the  change 
of  guards,  the  conversation  turned  to  "this  thing," 
"this  dreaded  sight,"  "this  apparition,"  which  they 
"two  nights  have  seen;"  and  which  as  they  spoke 
appeared  for  the  third  time,  in  "warlike  form"  as 
before. 

Horatio,  the  wise  and  faithful  friend  of  Hamlet,  re- 
gards this  as  a  matter  of  grave  national  import,  and 
fears  that  it  "bodes  some  strange  eruption  to  our 
state."  As  his  next  speech  indicates,  Horatio  is  well 
acquainted  with  the  past  history  and  with  the  present 
affairs  of  the  kingdom.  Through  him  the  dramatist 
lays  before  us  the  general  situation  of  the  play.1 

Marcellus  then  asks  for  an  explanation  of  the  warlike 
preparations  he  sees  going  on  all  around.  This  inquiry 
reveals  the  fact  that  there  are  four  distinct  forms  of 
military  and  naval  activity  on  the  part  of  the  Danes, 
all  of  which  are  quite  unusual.  He  speaks  first  of  the 
extraordinary  watchfulness  of  the  guard,  which  he 
calls,  "this  same  strict  and  most  observant  watch." 
This  would  seem  to  indicate  that  they  expect  war, 
and  fear  they  may  be  suddenly  attacked.  Then  he 
discloses  the  fact  that  workmen  are  kept  busy  by  night 
as  well  as  by  day  in  rushing  preparations :  "So  nightly 
toils  the  subject  of  the  land."  Added  to  this  is  the 
active  manufacture  of  cannon  and  purchase  of  imple- 
ments of  war  from  foreign  marts,  indicating  their  fear 
of  a  sudden  attack  that  may  possibly  find  them  unpre- 
pared. And  finally,  he  speaks  of  the  feverish  haste 
in  building  ships,  and  the  fact  that  they  are  impressing 
men  into  the  work,  and  keeping  them  busy  even  on 
Sundays.  When  this  fact  is  considered  in  connection 

1  Cf.  Note  B,  pp.  293-5,  infra. 


42  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

with  the  strict  watch,  it  seems  plain  that  they  fear  a 
sudden  attack  from  the  sea.  Marcellus  notices  that 
all  these  preparations  are  being  pushed  with  "sweaty 
haste"  and  wants  to  know  the  reason,  saving,  "Who  is 
it  that  can  inform  me?"  (I.  i.  70-79.) 

In  reply  to  the  inquiry  of  Marcellus,  Horatio  under- 
takes to  explain,  and  says  that  these  preparations  are 
intended  as  a  defence  against  the  threatened  attack 
of  young  Fortinbras  of  Norway.  To  make  the  matter 
clear,  he  goes  on  to  explain  how  the  trouble  arose 
between  the  two  countries.  It  seems  that  the  elder 
Hamlet  wa&jg^Jjrave  but jea^eaMeinan,and"'^a.t  he 
was  ~^rjck^d_on^  by a  most  emulate  pride,  dared  to 
the  combat,"by  the  elder  FortinbrasT  TFe  "valiant 
Hamlet"  did  not  pick  the  quarrel;  but  when  he  was 
attacked  would  not  permit  another  to  take  advantage 
of  him,  and  boldly  stood  up  for  his  own.  In  the 
ensuing  war  Fortinbras  was  slain,  and  part  of  his 
dominion  passed  under  the  sovereignty  of  Denmark. 

Now  the  young  Prince  of  Norway  has  come  into 
power,  and  wants  to  recover  "those  foresaid  lands," 
and  for  this  purpose  is  gathering  an  army  and  making 
other  warlike  preparations.  Denmark  is  therefore 
compelled  to  make  ready  to  resist  the  attack,  and  the 
coming  in  armor  of  the  ghost  of  the  late  king  is  taken 
at  once  as  having  something  to  do  with  "his  country's 
fate."  The  king  appears  to  be  ready  once  more,  even 
in  spirit,  to  combat  "the  ambitious  Norway,"  and  to 

;  defend  his  country,  f  Horatio  does  not  hesitate  to 
connect  the  coming  o$  the  ghostly  apparition  with 
\  this  apparent  crisis  in  the  affairs  of  Denmark,  and 
likens  it  to  the  portents  in  Rome  before  the  fall  of 
"the  mightiest  Julius,"  and  regards  this  as  evidence  of 
the  interest  of  heaven  in  the  forthcoming  struggle. 


Hamlet  43 

This  interpretation  of  the  situation  seems  to  satisfy 
Marcellus,   and  may  be   regarded  as   the  true  _.exi)la.- . 
nation.     It  is  borne  out  By  Bernardo,  too,  who  connects 
the  coming  of  the  ghost  of  the  former  king  with  the 
impending  war. 

Hamlet  and  the  Ghost. 

The  ghost  in  Hamlet  no  doubt  performs  an  im- 
portant dramatic  function.  Whatever  may  have 
been  Shakespeare's  belief  about  ghosts,  he  utilizes  the 
popular  conception  to  render  objective  what  is  in  the 
minds  of  his  characters.  The  ghosts  or  witches  that 
appeared  to  Macbeth  spoke  out  only  what  was  in  his 
mind,  and  revealed  his  inner  thoughts  to  the  audience 
better  than  any  words  of  his  could  do.  In  the  same 
way,  the  jyhost  in  Hamlet  discloses  to  us  the  suspicions 
already  in  the  minds  of  Hamlet  and  his  friends.  When 
Hamlet  sees  the  ghost  and  hears  its  revelations,  he 
voices  this  thought  by  saying,  "Oh  my  prophetic  soul !" 
(I.  v.  40.)  And  the  fact  that  it  first  appears  to  the 
friends  of  Hamlet  suggests  that  they  shared  his  sus- 
picions and  perhaps  even  anticipated  them,  though 
no  word  had  been  spoken.  The  inquiry  of  Marcellus 
about  the  cause  of  the  warlike  activity  and  his  later 
remark  about  the  rotten  condition  of  Denmark  seem 
to  imply  a  suspicion  that  he  is  endeavoring  to  verify 
or  to  disprove. 

The  scepticism  that  all  at  first  show  concerning  the 
ghost  seems  to  indicate  their  unwillingness  to  put  faith 
in  their  suspicions.  They  do  not  willingly  think  evil  of 
the  king,  and  they  all  want  some  undoubted  proof, 
not  only  of  the  fact  of  the  ghost's-  appearance,  but  of 
the  truth  of  his  words.  Hoxatio  hesitates  to  take 
the  word  of  Bernardo  and  Francisco,  and  is  convinced 


44  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  P.  nee 

only  by  the  actual  sight  of  the  ghost.  Hamlet,  appar- 
ently the  least  suspicious  of  all,  for  he  is  the  last  to 
see  the  ghost,  seems  .reluctant  to  believe  that  Horatio 
and  the  others  have  seen  it.  To  convince  him, 
Horatio  assures  him  with  an  oath  of  the  truth  of  his 
report,  saying, 

"As  I  do  live,  my  honor'd  lord,  'tis  true." 

(I.  ii.  221.) 

.His  doubts  are  not  finally  removed  until  the  fourth 
scene  when  he  sees  the  ghost  for  himself.  At  last,  the 
evidence  overcomes  his  moral  reluctance  to  believe  such 
foul  suspicions, jmdLJELamlet  is  convinced  of  the  guilt  of 
the  king. 

The  Ghost  in  Armor. 

So  much  is  said  in  the  play  about  the  ghost's  war- 
like form  that  great  significance  must  be  attached  to 
that  fact.  On  its  appearance  on  the  stage  Horatio 
speaks  of  it  as  having  on, 

"that  fair  and  warlike  form 
In  which  the  majesty  of  buried  Denmark 
Did  sometimes  march." 

(I.  i.  47-49.) 

And  when  Marcellus  asks, 

"Is  it  not  like  the  king?" 
Horatio  replies : 

"As  thou  art  to  thyself; 
Such  was  the  very  armor  he  had  on 
When  he  the  ambitious  Norway  "combated." 

(I.  i.  58-61.) 

When  Marcellus  further  observes  its  "martial  stalk," 
Horatio  suggests  that, 

"This   bodes   some   strange   eruption   to   our   state." 

(I.  i.  69.) 


Hamlet  45 

Then  after  Horatio  has  explained  to  Marcellus  and  the 
others  the  reason  for  the  warlike  preparations  and  the 
impending  danger  from  Norway,  Bernardo  remarks: 

"Well  may  it  sort,  that  this  portentous  figure 
Comes  armed  through  our  watch,  so  like  the  king 
That  was  and  is  the  question  of  these  wars." 

(I.  i.  109-111.) 

It  is  quite  clepr,  then,  that  they  regard  the  king's 
appearance  in  arms  as  a  portent  of  grave  danger  to 
the  state  from  the  ambitions  of  young  Fortinbras  of 
Norway. 

When  they  inform  Hamlet  of  the  apparition,  one 
of  the  points  they  specially  mention  is  that  he  was 
"arm'd."  Horatio  describes  the  ghost  as, 

"A  figure  like  your  father, 
Armed  at  point  exactly,  cap-a-pe." 

(I.  ii.  199-200.)  f 

Hamlet  seems  not  more  impressed  with  the  appearance 
of  the  ghost  than  with  the  fact  that  he  was  "arm'd." 
After  being  apparently  convinced  that  the  ghost  had 
actually  appeared,  in  great  excitement  he  questions 
his  friends  until  all  three  assert  that  the  ghost  was 
"arm'd."  Then  he  cross-questions  them,  and,  when 
convinced  of  the  truth  of  their  statement,  he  begs 
them  to  keep  the  matter  secret,  and 

"Give  it  an  understanding,  but  no  tongue." 

(I.  ii.  249.) 
When  alone,  he  observes, 

"My  father's  spirit  in  arms!  all  is  not  well; 
I  doubt  some  foul  play." 

(I.  ii.  254-5.) 

It  is  the  general  opinion,  then,  that  great  significance 
is  to  be  attached  to  the  fact  that  the  king  appeared 
in  armor.  When  we  take  this  in  connection  with  the 


46  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

fact  that  he  appeared  to  the  guards,  as  they  said, 
"upon  the  platform  where  we  watch'd,"  it  is  impos- 
sible not  to  infer  that  the  king  came  upon  a  patriotic 
mission,  and  that  his  appearance  was  intended  to  have 
a  relation  to  the  defence  of  Denmark. 

All  that  Hamlet's  friends  had  told  him  was  soon 
confirmed  by  the  appearance  of  the  ghost  to  him  in  the 
same  guise.  As  if  to  confirm  the  words  of  his  friends, 
he  notices  that  the  "dead  corse"  of  his  father  is  again., 
clad  "in  complete  steel."  (I.  iv.  52.)  The  appari-r 
tion  will  say  nothing,  however,  in  the  presence  of  all, 
though  he  makes  it  clear  by  beckoning  Hamlet  that  he 
has  something  for  his  ear  alone,  if  As  the  ghost  and 
Hamlet  withdraw  for  their  private  interview,  Marcellus 
feels  that  it  is  upon  the  business  of  the  state  that  the 
ffhost  appears,  and  remarks : 

'  "Something  is  rotten  in  the  state  of  Denmark."     (I.  iv.  90.) 

'o  this  Horatio  replies,  "Heaven  will  direct  it."  The 
inference  they  all  appear  to  draw  is  that  the  visit  of 
the  late  king's  spirit  is  in  connection  with  the  impend- 
ing danger  to  the  state  of  Denmark.  |This  seems  to 
imply  that  the  task  that  is  falling  to  Hamlet  is  not 
merely  a  personal  matter  between  him  and  his  father, 
V/  but  a  momentous  undertaking  of  great  national  import. 

The  Character  of  the  Elder  Hamlet. 

Though  we  see  nothing  of  the  elder  Hamlet  on  the 
stage,  except  his  ghost,  it  is  really  he_wJia-i^the  main- 
spring of  all  the  action  of  the  play.  It  was  tEe  desire 
to  gain  hiscrown  that  had  impelled  Claudius  to  the 
murder,  and  it  is  the  filial  duty  of  Hamlet  to  his  father 
that  urges  him  to  his  revenge  upon  the  king.  This 
conflict,  then,  of  the  murderer  and  the  avenger  of  the 


Hamlet  47 

elder  Hamlet  constitutes  the  main  plot  of  the  play,  and 
from  this   grows  the  entire  narrative. 

SM^Tfi-AE6  many  evidences  in  the  play  that  the  elder 
Hamlet  -was  a  very  different  man  from  his  brother 
Claudius.  Not  only  was  one  the  innocent  victim  and 
the  other  the  cold-blooded  fratricide/but  the  rule  of 
the  two  kings  was  as  different  as  possible.  Under  the 
elder  Hamlet  the  kingdom  of  Denmark  had  been  hon- 
orable at  home  and  respected  abroad.  It  seems  to 
have  been  a  kingdom  which  both  citizen  and  alien  rec- 
ognized as  strong  and  good.  But  under  Claudius 
good  name  of  Denmark  had  been  lost,  and  the  whole- 
some fear  of  her  just  power  had  passed  away.  Cor- 
ruption and  debauchery  now  stalk  through  the  land, 
and  foreign  powers  think  it  weak  and  debased.  On 
the  confession  of  Claudius  himself  it  appears  that 
young  Fortinbras  thinks  its  weakness  affords  him  a 
good  opportunity  to  make  war  upon  Denmark,  and 
a  fitting  time  to  seize  the  lands  that  his  father  had 
lost  to  the  elder  Hamlet.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  he 
is  now  threatening  Denmark,  and  if  we  can  judge  from 
the  condition  of  the  land,  he  might  reasonably  look 
for  a  complete  triumph. 

The  change  that  has  come  over  the  country  is  but 
an  index  of  and  the  effect  of  the  difference  of  the 
two  kings.  The  younger  Hamlet  has  made  most  strik- 
ing contrasts  between  his  father  and  his  uncle.  In 
the  interview  with  his  mother,  when  he  tries  to  dis- 
suade her  from  continuing  her  guilty  relations  with 
the  king,  he  calls  her  attention  to  the  portraits  of, 
the  two,  saying: 

"Look  here,  upon  this  picture,  and  on  this, 
The  counterfeit  presentment  of  two  brothers. 
See  what  a  grace  was  seated  on  this  brow; 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

A  combination  and  a  form  indeed, 

Where  every  god  did  seem  to  set  his  seal 

To  give  the  world  assurance  of  a  man; 

This  was  your  husband.    Look  you  now,  what  follows; 

Here  is  your  husband;  like  a  mildew'd  ear 

Blasting  his  wholesome  brother." 

(III.  iv.  53-65.) 

The  character  of  the  elder  Hamlet  is  further  strik- 
ingly depicted  in  Horatio's  explanation  of  the  war 
/  preparations  to  Marcellus  and  the  others.  It  is  evi- 
dent from  this  speech  that  he  was  a  most  noble  king, 
Awho  ruled  solely  in  the  interests  of  his  kingdom,  and 
not  in  his  personal  interests.  He  had  no  ambitions, 
and  in  no  way  molested  any  of  his  neighbors,  but  kept 
his  land  in  prosperity  and  peace.  He  was  not,  how- 
ever, a  weak  but  a  very  valiant  king,  "For  so  this  side 
of  our  known  world  esteem'd  him"  (I.  i.  85),  as  Horatio 
goes  on  to  say.  IJe  madejicj  wars^  but...did  not  hesi- 
tate to  go  to  war  to~deTend  his  own.  He  would  not 
attempt  to  plunder  any  other  kingdom,  nor  would  he 
permit  any  other  to  plunder  him.  He  was  a  peace- 
able king,  but  not  a  peace-at-any-price  king. 

Therefore,  when  Fortinbras  of  Norway  challenged 
him  to  war,  he  valiantly  took  up  the  challenge,  and 
if  we  are  to  judge  by  the  brevity  of  Shakespeare's  ac- 
count of  the  war,  he  very  speedily  overcame  and  slew 
Fortinbras.  By  his  victory  the  lands  that  were  in  dis- 
pute fell  to  Denmark,  and  so  .long  as  he  lived  they 
remained  his  without  question.  fenlv_.when  he  was  dead 

did  Norway o_nce  more  think  itself  able  to  challenge 

Denmark  and  dare  it  to  the  combat.  The  weakness  of 
Claudius,  the  young  prince  Fortinbras  thought,  af- 
.  forded  him  his  opportunity. 

It  is  this  sort  of  strength  and  virtue  that  makes  the 
elder  Hamlet  a  real  national  hero.  He  was  not  the 


Hamlet  49 

type  of  the  aggressive  and  conquering  hero,  who  made 
war  for  the  sake  of  war  and  conquest.  With  that  kind 
of  hero  Shakespeare  has  no  sympathy.  He  was,  how- 
ever, the  dramatist's  ideal  king,  who  loved  peace,  and 
would  never  make  war,  but  who  would  not  hesitate  to 
go  to  war  in  defence  of  his  right  and  of  his  nation.  He 
would  not  wage  an  aggressive  war,  but  was  valiant 
enough  to  defend  his  kingdom  when  attacked.  This 
is  the  only  kind  of  hero  Shakespeare  recognizes,  and 
for  this  kind  he  had  the  most  profound  admiration. 
Few  of  the  critics  have  appreciated  this  character 
of  the  elder  Hamlet,  or  have  seen  in  the  account  any 
significance  for  the  play.  Werder  alone  seems  to  get 
a  glimpse  of  it  when  he  speaks  of  him  as  the  "hero 
king,  Hamlet's  father."  l 

In  considering  the  younger  Hamlet  it  is  worth  while 
to  observe  that  previous  to  Shakespeare's  version  of 
the  story,  in  both  Saxo  and  Belleforest,  the  names  of 
father  and  son  were  different.  The  name  of  the  father 
in  both  earlier  versions  was  Horvendil,  and  only  the 
son  was  Hamlet.  But  Shakespeare  has  given  the  name 
also  to  the  father,  thus  making  the  son  the  namesake 
of  the  father.  This  fact,  taken  together  with  the  son's 
wonderful  devotion  to  the  father,  make  it  evident  that 
Shakespeare  desired  to  have  them  conceived  as  of  simi- 
lar character.  Certain  it  is  that  he  has  left  the  im- 
pression that  the  son  is  but  a  second  Hamlet,  of  the 
same  character,  and  of  the  same  self-sacrificing  yet 
heroic  type.  I  As  the  father  was  an  ideal  king,  so  is 
the  son  an  icteal  prince,  and  Fortinbras  in  the  last 
speech  of  the  play  says  that  if  Hamlet  had  been  put 
on  the  throne,  tfetre  is  no  doubt  he  would  "have  prov'd 
most  royally."  ^ 
1  The  Heart  of  Hamlet's  Mystery,  p.  68. 


50  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 


J° 

audius  and  the^jCbnaitfon  of  Denmark. 
(The  second  scetLeP^f  the  play  makes  it  clear  that  it 

-IT  «/ 

is  the  weak  and  corrupt  condition  of  Denmark  under 
Claudius  that  affords  occasion  for  the  warlike  activi- 
ties of  Fortinbras.  From  the  beginning  of  the  play 
Hamlet  has  had  suspicions,  which  are  gradually  con- 
firmed as  the  plot  develops,  that  Claudius  has  ex- 
erted a  very  evil  influence  upon  the  country.  The 
later  development  shows  that  Hamlet  has  rightly  di- 
vined the  true  inwardness  of  the  situation.  Claudius 
himself  is  fully  *tj^foffioiftrgtf  the  state  of  affairs,  and 
from  his  lips  we  get  the  true  explanation.  He  dis- 
closes the  fact  that  young  Fortinbras  has  no  such 
wholesome  fear  and  respect  for  him  as  he  had  for 
the  late  king,  and  makes  the  damaging  admission  that  : 

"young  Fortinbras, 

Holding  a  weak  supposal  of  our  wortja,  ...  • 
.  .  .  hath  not  f  ail'd  to  pester  us  with  message,) 
Importing  the  surrender  of  those  lands  » 

Lost  by  his  father."  .  / 

(I.  ii.  17-24.)    V 

Claudius    further   remarks   that   he   has   written   to 
Norway,  uncle  of  young  Fortinbras,  imploring  him  to 
..restrain  the  fiery  temper  of  his  nephew,  and  now  dis- 
patches  two  courtiers  to  the  same  end.    Only  by  weakly 
Norway  is  Claudius  able  to  keep  peace 


with  his  neighbor  and  prevent  an  invasion.  This  weak- 
ness is  in  great  contrast  to  the  days  of  the  elder  Ham- 
let, when  the  Danish  royal  power  was  feared  and  re- 
spected, both  at  home  and  abroad. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  Claudius  was  a  thoroughly 
bad  man.     If  like  Hamlet  we  cannot  prove  it  at  the 


Hamlet  61 

opening  of  the  play,  we  need  only  wait  for  the  later 
developments  and  for  his  villainous  attempts  on  Ham- 
let's life.  Claudius  is  indeed  as  much  a  villain  as  Mac- 
beth, and  with  little  or  nothing  of  Macbeth's  great 
ability.  J  The  ghost  speaks  of  him  as  one  "whose  natu- 
ral gifts  were  poor  to  those  of  mine!"  (I.  v.  51-52.) 
And  Hamlet,  comparing  him  to  his  father  in  his  later 
interview  with  his  mother,  calls  him : 

"A  murderer  and  a  villain; 
A  slave  that  is  not  twentieth  part  the  tithe 
Of  your  precedent  lord;  a  vice  of  kmgs." 

(III.  iv. 


of  quick 

anH  effective  action.     He^  was  clever  enough  to  leave 
no  traces  of  his  crime  when  he_ killed _his_  brother,  and 
he  showed  dispatch  and  skill  in  quickly  bringing  about, 
the  election  of  himself  as  the  next  king  before^Ham^ 
let  could  return  from  the  university.     This  same  power 
of  speedy  action  is  his  greatest  strength,  and  enables 
him  to  make  Hamlet's  task  at  once  exceedingly  diffi- 
cult  and  dangerous. 

Gradually  there  is  disclosed  in  the  play  considerable 
evidence  of  a  general  corruption  and  weakening  of  the 
Wstate   under   the    example   and   influence   of   Claudius. 
^Y  Hamlet  is  conscious  of  it  on  his  return 

ersity,  and  the  king  readily  admits  hfe  diaoipationa. 
o  dutrbfe*  Hamlet's  sad  words  about  the^geWition  ef 
e  world  in  his  first  soliloquy  are  spoken  more  with 
reference  to  Denmark:       <S~ 

/'          \ 

"Fie  on't!     O  fie!  'tis  an  unweeded  garden 
That  grows  to  seed;  things  rank  and  gross  in  nature 
Possess  it  merely." 

(     ii. 


52  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince       i^ 

The  king  had  led  the  way  in  dissipation  and 
Jaa^cfrery^  and  in  his  first  interview  with  Hamlet  prom- 
ises elaborate  festivities  (I.  ii.  121-g)/  In  the  same 
scene  Hamlet  refers  to  these  habits,  and  satirically  tells 
his  friend  Horatio:  "We'll  teach  you  to  drink  deep  ere 
you  depart"  (I.  ii.  175 ).y  In  his  next  conversation 
with  Horatio,  Hamlet  again  speaks  of  the  king's  drink- 
ing habits,  and  says : 

"The  king  doth  wake  to-night  and  takes  his  rouse, 
Keeps  wassail,  and  the  swaggering  up-spring  reels ; 
And  as  he  drains  his  draughts  of  Rhenish  down, 
The  kettle-drum  and  trumpet  thus  bray  out 
Ttte  triumph  of  his  pledge." 

(I.  iv.  8-12.)  ^ 

When  Horatio  asks  if  this  is  a  Danish  custom,  Hamlet 
replies  that  "it  is  a  custom  More  honor'd  in  the  breach 
than  the  observance."  At  a  later  time  when  Hamlet 
tries  to  show  to  his  mother  the  baseness  of  his  uncle 
he  speaks  of  him  as  "the  bloat  king"  (III.  iv.  18j). 

To  the  virtuous  mind  of  Hamlet  one  of  the  worst 
features  of  thfe&iebaudi^nfc  is  that  it  has  destroyed 
their  reputation  among  nations,  and  the  fair  name  of 
Denmark  has  suffered  irreparable  loss : 

"This  heavy-headed  revel  east  and  west 
Makes  us  traduced  and  tax'd  of  other  nations; 
They  clepe  us   drunkards,   and  with  swinish   phrase 
Soil  our  addition."  / 

(I.  iv.  17-20.)  >/ 

ThenSie  moralizes  upon  the  baneful  influence  of  "some 
vicious  mbie^of  nature"  that  corrupts  the  whole  being, 
until  such  men 


'Shall  in  the  generaT>e»&u£e^take  corruption 
From  that  particular  fault. 

(I.  iv. 


Hamlet  53 

The  inevitable  implication  of  course  is  that  the  whole 
state  of  Denmark  has  been  corrupted  by  the  king's  bad 

habits  and  vicious  nature,  until 

"the  dram  of  eale, 

Doth  all  the  noble  substance  of  a  doubt 
To  his  own  scandal." 

(I.  iv.  36-8.) 

This  condition  of  corruption  impresses  both  Hamlet 
and  his  friends  almost  from  the  outset.  When  the 
ghost  has  vanished  after  his  appearance  to  Hamlet 
and  others,  Marcellus  at  once  recognizes  its  relation 
to  the  country,  and  says,  "Something  is  rotten  in  the 
state  of  Denmark"  (I.  iv.  90  )r  It  is  Hamlet,  however, 
with  his  deep  moral  nature,  who  most  fully  recognizes 
th^king's  corrupting  influence  upon  Denmark.^  After 
the  ghost  has  revealed  to  him  the  matter  and  the  man- 
ner of  his  murdeif,  Hamlet  at  once  sees  that  the  crime 
is  not  a  mere  matterbetween  him  and  Claudius,  but 
that  it  has  Gft^noeree  a  bad  «9§9GB^.of  affairs  in 

£  &4tf  O  I  Tl  A  A.  J 

the  state  and  that  it  is  mipcratrre-trpon  him-to-s^ 


"The  time  is  out  of  joint; — O  cursed  spite, 
That  ever  I  was  born  to  set  it  ri 


mlct*s  m-md  when 
Rosencrarl^and  Guildenstern  "Wjfm  him  the  on|y  news 
-own  honest."  To  this  he  quickly 
replies  that  "your  new^-4§not  true,"  and  goes  on  to 
say  that  "Denmark's  a  prisonVvand  "one  o'  the  worst," 
and  a^£y^pW"to  me  it  is  a  prisb^  (II.  ii.  233-246). 
A  little  later  in  his  great  soliloquyTS^erring  to  his 
grievous  troubles  and  sufferings,  he  callsNjiem  "The 
slings  and  arrows  of  outrageous  fortune"  (Irt>4^  58). 
No  doubt  he  is  thinking  not  only  of  the  foul  murder 


54  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

of  his  father,  but  of  the  times  that  are  out  of  joint 
and  that  he  must  try  to  set  right. 

There  has  been  a  feeling  from  the  first  that  the 
coming  of  the  ghost  has  had  to  do  with  affairs  of  state. 
Horatio,  who  has  just  come  from  Wittenberg  when 
Marcellus  and  others  report  to  him  of  seeing  the  ghost, 
volunteers  the  idea  that  "This  bodes  some  strange 
eruption  to  our  state"  (I.  i.  69).  Horatio  knows  noth- 
ing of  the  murder  and  yet  he  thinks  the  ghost  has 
to  do  with  affairs  of  state.  When  he  sees  the  ghost, 
he  thinks  of  three  possible  reasons  for  his  appearance. 
He  may  want  something  done;  or  may  want  to  tell 
where  he  has  hoarded  some  treasure;  or  he  may  be 
privy  to  his  country's  fate.  Taken  in  connection  with 
what  he  has  just  said  of  the  impending  danger  from 
young  Fortinbras,  it  seems  to  indicate  a  feeling  that 
all  is  not  well  with  Denmark.  Hamlet,  however,  is 
the  only  one  who  fully  comprehends  the  actual  truth. 

Hamlet  and  His  Father. 

Hamlet's  scepticism  about  the  ghost  vanishes  only 
when  he  sees  it  for  himself.  At  first  sight  he  wonders 
for  a  moment  whether  or  not  it  is  some  evil  spirit  sent 
to  do  harm.  But  these  doubts  soon  vanish  as  he  sees 
the  semblance  of  his  father  before  him.  When  he  first 
heard  of  its  appearance  from  his  friends,  he  had  re- 
solved to  speak  to  it  at  any  hazard  if  it  looked  like 
his  father: 

"If  it  assume  my  noble  father's  person, 
I'll  speak  to  it,  though  hell  itself  should   gape 
And  bid  me  hold  my  peace." 

(I.  ii.  243-5.) 

This  pictures  Hamlet  as  a  most  dutiful  and  devoted 
son,  with  a  perfect  faith  in  his  father,  and  a  willing- 


Hamlet  55 

ness  to  undertake  anything  in  his  behalf. 

As  soon,  therefore,  as  he  has  dispelled  his  first  fears 
at  the  sight  of  the  ghost,  he  addresses  himself  to  him, 
calling  him,  "Hamlet,  King,  father,"  and  begs  him  to 
tell  him  why  he  leaves  his  tomb  and  revisits  "the 
glimpses  of  the  moon"  (I.  iv.  53).  He  implores  him, 
"Say,  why  is  this?  wherefore?  what  should  we  do?" 
(57).  He  apparently  expects  some  task  to  be  assigned 
him,  and  is  ready  to  listen  and  obey_J  He  says  he  does 
not  set  his  life  at  a  pin's  fee,  and  intimates  his  re- 
solve at  any  cost  to  follow  it.  [He  feels  that  when 
the  ghost  beckons  him  it  is  fate  crying  out,  and  he 
feels  strong  for  any  task: 

"My  fate  cries  out, 

And  makes  each  petty  artery  in  this  body 
As  hardy  as  the  Nemean  lion's  nerve." 


When  his  friends  try  to  restrain  him  from  following 
the  ghost,  he  breaks  loose  and  says : 

"Unhand  me,  gentlemen; 

By  heaven,  I'll  make  a  ghost  of  him  that  lets  me; 
I  say,  away ! — Go  on ;  I'll  follow  thee."  j  (/  *2 

(i.  iv.  81-6.)  pry 

In  the  private  interview  with  the  ghost  that  follows, 
Hamlet  hears  the  story  of  his  father's  "foul  and  most 
unnatural  murder,"  confirming  all  his  worst  suspi- 
cions. His  devotion  to  his  father  is  shown  in  his  eager 
attention  to  the  sordid  story  of  his  uncle's  villainy  and 
his  mother's  weakness,  and  in  the  declaration  of  his 
willingness  to  give  himself  up  to  the  duty  of  revenge. 
He  is  impatient  of  the  slow  rehearsal  bf  the  murder, 
and  cries  out: 

"Haste  me  to  know't,  that  I,  with  wings  as  swift 
As  meditation  or  the  thoughts  of  love, 
May  sweep  to  my  revenge."  w  /// 

(I.  v.  29-31.)    T 


56  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

When  he  has  heard  the  whole  story,  he  promises  the 
ghost  that  he  will  give  up  every  other  ambition  to  ac- 
complish this  filial  duty,  and  bursts  out  into  a  frantic 
passion  of  devotion  and  vengeance,  saying: 

"from  the  table  of  my  memory 
I'll   wipe   away   all   trivial   fond    records,    .  .  . 
And  thy  commandment  all  alone  shall  live 
Within  the  book  and  volume  of  my  brain, 
Unmix'd  with  baser  matter ;  yes,  by  heaven !"  ^  \ 

(I.  v.  98-104.  W  A  i 

Hamlet's  first  thought  is  that  it  is  his  mother  who  is 
primarily  responsible  for  the  crime,  and  he  cries  out, 
"O  most  pernicious  woman!"  But  this  thought  his 
father's  ghost  does  not  encourage,  and  has  already  told 

[  him  not  to  contrive  against  his  motherj 

The  injunction  of  the  ghost  to  revenge  his  murder 
was  subject  to  two  restraints.  The  ghost  first  en- 
joined him,  "Taint  not  thy  mind."  This  Hamlet  ap- 
parently understood  as  meaning  that  in  revenging  his 
father's  murder  he  was  to  regard  his  task  as  moral, 
and  was  to  keep  his  own  moral  nature  uncontaminated. 
^kHis-~-*dred^n-~wu^ 

''  and  not  to  maJj£_iQatters  worse Jpy  committing  crimes 
jSmself:  TKen  theghost  said  Turther"  "Nor 'let  ?Ey 
soul  contrive  against  thy  mother  aught."  Ha«ilet 
had  beei*4eth^?e«ui^i£^ 

influence,  and  now :.  the^ghost  a4mcinish_e& .JugL-ihat  he 
is  to  strike  Claudius  down  without  striJdngJiis~-mother. 
He  is  charged  to  work  vengeance  on  the  king  without 
harming  the  queen.  He  is  to  be  an  avenger  of  his  fa- 
ther, and  not  a  destroyer  of  his  mother.  This  re- 
straint not  to  harm  his  mother  greatly  complicated 
his  task,  for  the  king  and  queen  were  so  bound  to- 
gether that  it  was  all  but  impossible  to  separate  their 
fates.  C»*tOA  I  A* 


So 


Hamlet  57 

These  restraints  laid  upon  Hamlet  in  the  accom- 
plishment of  his  great  task  were  in  fact  but  the  re- 
straints which  his  own  moral  nature  and  his  great 
reverence  for  his  father's  character  would  impose  upon 
him.  ]His  great  devotion  to  his  father,  as  Werder  sug- 
gests, was  probably  due  in  part  to  the  fact  that  he 
turned  to  him  when  he  found  his  mother  so  ignoble. 
This  love  for  his  father  and  his  own  moral  convic- 

jions  now  found  expression  in  the  words  of  the  ghost. 

^He   was   determined   then   to   preserve  his   own   honor 
and   to  spare  his   mother,  leaving  her  to  heaven  and 
to  her  own  conscience.^  His   task,  therefore,  was  ex- 
tremely difficult  in  itself,  and  was  made  still  more  ardu-  i 
ous   by  the   highly   complicated   circumstances   of 
case.      These   restraints,   however,   Hamlet    freely   im-  (vt't$ 
posed   upon   himself,   for  he   could   not   bring  himselfyvj(ucvj2 
to  sacrifice  his   own  moral  nature   or   to   do   violejice^^^ 
to  his  mother_eyen_in  so  great  a  cause  as  the  aveng-  \#  \\0 
ing  of  his  father's  murder.     In  Hamlet,  then,  the  dram- 
attst  has  portrayed  not  only  a  most  intellectual  b 
also  a  most  moral  character.       Z  \     \ 

~<c*tv»* 

Hamlet's.  Task  of  Revenge.  „  £ue>^ 

The  task  of  Hamlet,  then,  can  only  be  appreciated 
when  considered  in  reference  to  all  the  attendant  cir- 
cumstances. The  situation  that  the  dramatist  has  so 
carefully  developed  is  most  portentous,  and  the  moral 
restraints  that  Hamlet  has  imposed  upon  himself  very 
greatly  -circumscribe  him  in  the  accomplishment  of  his 
task.  -The  disordered  internal  conditions  of  the  king- 
dom niust  be  seen  as  the  occasion  if  not  the  cause  of 
the  incipient  revolt  of  the  young  Prin«^  of  Norway, 
and  the  threatened  invasion  of  Denmark.)  As  the  son 
of  the  late  king,  and  as  a  possible  future  king  him- 


A  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

* 

self,  Hamletjamst  look  upon  these  conditions  and  this 


\imj>eriding   invasion rSIK^j^eat   alarnT      HrS   dearest 
friend,   Horatio,   thoroughly   unoTersTand?1  the   threat- 
ening danger,  and  it  must  be  assumed   that  Hamlet 
,  knows  it  equally  well.  rThe  circumstances  are  so  com- 
plicated and  the  conditions  so  disheartening  that  no 
.CiLwonder  Hamlet  curses  the  fate  that  assigns  him  the 

task  of  setting  it  right  (I.  v.  189-190). 
A       It  is  into  this  troubled  state  that  Shakespeare  ushers 
"this  young  and  noble-minded  Prince  of  Denmark.    Crit- 
ics have  seen  little  or  no  significance  in  this  condition 
of  affairs,  and  have  not  appreciated  the  magnitude  of 
%     «~  JETamlet's  task.     They  fail  to  understand  his  motive  be- 
j*  J  A  cause  they  have  overlooked  the  dramatic  situation.    Yet 
V  It  is  these  conditions  that  furnish  the  element  in  his 
motive  that  has  baffled  inquiry,  and  that  explains  the 
whole  course  of  his  conduct  throughout  the  play.     To 
understand  these  fully  will  furnish  the  necessary  setting 
for  his  great  burden  of  sorrow  over  the  untimely  death 
of   his    father   and   the    "o'erhasty   marriage"    of   his 
mother. 

/•All  these  attendant  circumstances  and  the  suspicion 
^      of  foul  play  in  the  death  of  his  father  have  induced 
\Y  U  *n  Kamle^  a  condition  of  sadness  that  is  noticed  by 
\   I/  everybody  about  the  court.     The  king,  not  knowing 
Hamlet's  suspicions,  and  the  queen,  not  being  a  party 
to  the  crime,  endeavor  to  arouse  him  from  his  melan- 
choly by  reminding  him  that  his  father's  death  was  not 
exceptional,  for  death  is  common,  and  "all  that  lives 
must  die,  Passing  through  nature  to  eternity."     To 
this  Hamlet  replies,  "Ay,  madam,  it  is  common."     He 
spurns  the  suggestion  to  put  off  his  mourning  robes, 
and  intimates  that  something  still  more  grievous  than 
the  death  of  his  father  is  preying  upon  his  mind : 


Hamlet  59 

"But  I  have  that  within  which  passeth  show; 
These,  but  the  trappings  and  the  suits  of  woe." 

(I.  ii.  85-6.) 

When  the  king  and  queen  have  gone  out,  leaving  him 
to  his  sorrow,  his  first  soliloquy  reveals  his  great  bur- 
den of  spirit.  He  feels  the  load  of  grief  so  great  that 
he  would  almost  rather  die  than  live.  ( He  would  like  to 
relieve  his  heart  by  telling  his  suspicions  to  some  one, 
but  they  are  as  yet  only  suspicions,  and  he  must  hold 
his  tongue. 

All  of  Hamlet's  suspicions  are  confirmed  in  the  pri- 
vate interview  with  the  ghost,  in  the  course  of  which 
he  is  called  upon  to  "Revenge  his  foul  and  most  unnat- 
ural murder."  The  story  given  out  that  his  father  was 
killed  by  the  sting  of  a  serpent  the  ghost  first  charac- 
terizes as  false.  Then  he  proceeds  to  reveal  the  truth 
that, 

"The  serpent  that  did  sting  thy  father's  life 
Now  wears  the  crown." 

(I.  v.  39-40.) 

At  once  Hamlet  bursts  out  with  "O  my  prophetic  soul," 
revealing  for  the  first  time  in  the  play  that  he  has  sus- 
pected the  real  truth.  Then  follows  the  true  story  of 
the  crime.  As  the  king  was  sleeping  in  his  orchard 
(garden)  he  was  poisoned  by  his  brother,  Claudius,  who 
at  once  became  possessed  of  his  crown,  and,  in  less  than 
two  months,  of  his  queen : 

"Thus  was  I,  sleeping,  by  a  brother's  hand 
Of  life,  of  crown,  of  queen,  at  jonce  dispatch'd." 

(I.  v.  74-5.) 

This  revelation  and  injunction  assign  to  Hamlet  his 
task.  In  a  word,  he  is  to  revenge  his  father's  murder, 
committed  by  his  uncle  who  now  wears  the  crown  of 


60  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

Denmark.  Up  to  this  point,  there  is  little  difference- 
between  Hamlet  and  contemporary  revenge  plays  of 
which  Professor  Thorndike  has  made  such  an  exhaustive 
and  excellent  study.1  Even  the  earlier  stories  of  Ham- 
let have  but  little  of  the  more  tragic  character  that 
Shakespeare  has  put  into  his  play.  Neither  murder  nor 
revenge  are  in  themselves  true  tragic  material.  It  is 
only  when  great  human  and  moral  issues  are  involved 
in  them  that  they  become  tragic.  These  Shakespeare 
reads  into  the  stories  he  borrows,  or  he  cannot  use  them 
at  all.  Sometimes  he  finds  hints  of  this  character  in 
his  stories,  and  his  genius  gives  them  the  tragic  expres- 
sion. To  most  readers  "The  Hamlet  of  Belleforest  was 
a  crude,  coarse,  revengeful,  unmeditative,  and  blood- 
thirsty murderer." 2  But  Shakespeare  grasped  the 
tragic  possibilities  of  the  story,  which  other  dramatists 
had  missed,  and  which  many  critics  have  overlooked. 

Shakespeare's  Hamlet  is  a  play  of  a  different  sort 
from  the  old  revenge  plays.  He  has  raised  his  play 
above  the  low  level  of  blood  vengeance  by  the  compli- 
cations he  has  introduced  into  the  problem,  and  by  the 
larger  and  more  patriotic  intentions  depicted  in  his 
hero.  With  Hamlet  it  is  not  a  matter  of  private  ven- 
geance for  personal  wrong,  but  of  public  revenge  for  a 
national  treason.  Hamlet  has  constantly  in  mind  the 
national  rather  than  the  personal  bearings  of  his  task, 
and  is  always  solicitous  that  his  act  when  committed 
shall  be  seen  to  be  an  act  for  the  public  good.  When 
dying  he  still  keeps  this  thought  in  mind,  and  begs 
Horatio  to  "report  me  and  my  cause  aright  To  the 

J"The  Relations  of  Hamlet  to  Contemporary  Revenge  Plays," 
by  A.  H.  Thorndike,  Publications  of  the  Modern  Language  Asso- 
ciation of  America,  1902,  pp.  125-220;  New  Series,  Vol.  X., 
No.  2. 

8  Frank,  The  Tragedy  of  Hamlet,  p.  132.    Boston,  1910. 


Hamlet  61 

unsatisfied."  (V.  ii.  326-7.)  He  suggests  that  he  will 
bear  "a  wounded  name"  unless  Horatio  shall  be  at 
pains  to  tell  his  story. 

The  Werder  theory  is  no  doubt  correct  in  maintain- 
ing that  Hamlet  not  only  wishes  to  be  able  to  justify 
himself  to  his  own  conscience,  but  likewise  before  the 
people  at  large.)  He  must  so  carry  out  his  revenge  that 
he  will  appear  not  as  a  vulgar  regicide,  but  as  a  moral 
and  patriotic  avenger.  He  wishes,  Werder  says,  to 
convince  the  people  before  the  deed,  and  have  the  king 
brought  to  public  confession  and  justice.  Shakespeare 
had  just  shown  in  Julius  Ccesar,  written  shortly  before 
Hamlet,  that  a  deed  of  killing  even  for  public  reasons 
cannot  well  be  justified  after  it  is  committed.  Better 
far  to  justify  such  an  act  and  show  its  moral  necessity,  * 
before  it  is  undertaken.  ^ 

Hamlet  must,  therefore,   act  not  rashly  or  vindic- 
tively,  but  with  due  deliberation,  and  with  the  larger  in- 
terests  always  in  mind.     To  ^revenge"   the  death  of 
his    father,   in   the   complicated   conditions   of   Shake-   * 
speare's  play,  is  not  the  simple  matter  the  older  theories    < 
of  Hamlet  seemed  to  think.     It  is  a  sufficiently  difficult    .  \^ 
and  delicate  task  to  execute  vengeance  upon  a  king  in  ° 
any  case,  but  as  Shakespeare  has  conceived  his  plot,  it 
will  require  all  the  wisdom  of  his  young  scholar  from 
the  university.     It  will  be  necessary,  moreover,  to  pro- 
ceed with  very  great  caution  and  absolute  secrecy  for 
a  time.     He  therefore  keeps  the  matter  of  the  ghost's 
revelations  strictly  to  himself  and  binds  his  friends  who 
had  seen  the  ghost  to  "never  make  known  what  you  have 
seen  to-night."     (I.  v.  143.)     He  must  quietly  gather 
whatever   further  evidence   is   available,   and  he   must 
have  time  to  mature  and  perfect  his  plan  of  revenge. 
He  must  at  the  same  time  dispossess  his  uncle's  mind  of 


\ 


62  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

all  suspicion,  if  possible,  and  for  this  end  he  resolves 
"to  put  an  antic  disposition  on." 

The  easiest  way  for  Hamlet  to  get  revenge  on  Clau- 
dius would  be  to  stir  up  a  civil  war,  as  Laertes  after- 
ward attempted,  and  with  his  popularity  it  would  cer- 
tainly be  successful.  This,  however,  would  be  at  the 
bloody  cost  of  many  of  his  innocent  countrymen,  and 
would  at  the  same  time  invite  the  threatened  attack 
from  Fortinbras.  Both  of  these  eventualities  he  strives 
to  avoid.  Like  the  Hamlet  of  Belleforest,  he  will  not 
involve  his  countrymen  in  his  undertaking.  He  wants 
to  strike  the  king  without  striking  his  native  land.  His 
task,  therefore,  is  enormous,  and  it  must  be  executed 
single-handed.  He  must  strike  the  king,  and  at  the 
same  time  prevent  civil  war,  and  a  condition  that  would 
lay  the  country  open  to  foreign  attack.  He  must, 
therefore,  be  very  cautious,  and  when  he  acts  must  ap- 
pear like  the  ghost  in  armor — a  defender  and  not  a 
desttoyer  of  his  country. 

Hamlet  does  not  like  the  task  of  revenge,  and  frankly 
says  so.     But  as  a  dutiful  son  and  patriotic  prince  he 
I    is  willing  to  go  through  with  it  even  at  the  cost  of  his 
\  own  life.     It  is  no  easy  matter  to  attack  one  who  is 
^surrounded  with  all  the  power  and  prerogatives  of  roy- 
alty.    Claudius  flatters  himself  that  he  is  safe,  hedged 
in  as  he  says  by  divinity  and  surrounded  by  so  many 
hirelings.    The  task  is  therefore  a  gigantic  undertaking 
for  a  young  and  inexperienced  prince,  and,  as  Shake- 
speare has  pictured  it,  worthy  of  the  noblest  and  most 
intellectual  character  in  his  entire  drama. 

Hamlet9 s  "Antic  Disposition.19 

There  is  much  evidence  in  the  play  that  Hamlet  de- 
liberately feigned  fits  of  madness  in  order  to  confuse 


Hamlet  63 

and  disconcert  the  king-  and  his  attendants.  His 
avowed  intention  to  act  "strange  or  odd"  and  to  "put 
an  antic  disposition  on"  1  (I.  v.  170,  172)  is  not  the 
only  indication.  The  latter  phrase,  which  is  of  doubt- 
ful interpretation,  should  be  taken  in  its  context  and  in 
connection  with  his  other  remarks  that  bear  on  the 
same  question.  To  his  old  friend,  Guildenstern,  he  in- 
timates that  "his  uncle-father  and  aunt-mother  are  de- 
ceived," and  that  he  is  only  "mad  north-north-west." 
(II.  ii.  360.)  But  the  intimation  seems  to  mean  noth- 
ing to  the  dull  ears  of  his  old  school-fellow.  His  only 
comment  is  given  later  when  he  advises  that  Hamlet's 
is  "a  crafty  madness."  (III.  i.  8.) 

When  completing  with  Horatio  the  arrangements  for 
the  play,  and  just  before  the  entrance  of  the  court 
party,  Hamlet  says,  "I  must  be  idle."  (III.  ii.  85.) 
This  evidently  is  a  declaration  of  his  intention  to  be 
"foolish,"  as  Schmidt  has  explained  the  word.2  Then 
to  his  mother  in  the  Closet  Scene,  he  distinctly  refers 
to  the  belief  held  by  some  about  the  court  that  he  is 
mad,  and  assures  her  that  he  is  intentionally  acting 
the  part  of  madness  in  order  to  attain  his  object: 

"I   essentially   am  not   in   madness, 

But  mad  in  craft."  w 

(IILJv^lST-S.)-* 

This  pretense  of  madness  Shakespeare  borrowed  from 
the  earlier  versions  of  the  story.  The  fact  that  he  has 
made  it  appear  like  real  madness  to  many  critics  to-day 
only  goes  to  show  the  wideness  of  his  knowledge  and 
the  greatness  of  his  dramatic  skill. 

1C/r.  Romeo  and  Juliet  (I.  v.  54),  where  "antic  face"  means  a 
mask,  and  also  Richard  II  (III.  ii.  162)  and  Henry  VI  (IV. 
vii.  18). 

*Cf.  Shakespeare-Lexicon,  by  Alexander  Schmidt,  3rd  edition, 
Berlin,  1902. 


I 


64  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

In  the  play  the  only  persons  who  regard  Hamlet  as 
really  mad  are  the  king  and  his  henchmen,  and  even 
these  are  troubled  with  many  doubts.  Polonius  is  the 
first  to  declare  him  mad,  and  he  thinks  it  is  because 
Ophelia  has  repelled  his  love.  He  therefore  reports  to 
the  king  that  "Your  noble  son  is  mad"  (II.  ii.  92),  and 
records  the  various  stages  leading  to  his  so-called  mad- 
ness (II.  ii.  145-150).  No  sooner,  however,  has  he 
reached  this  conviction  than  Hamlet's  clever  toying 
with  the  old  gentleman  leads  him  to  admit  that  "Though 
this  be  madness,  yet  there  is  method  in't."  (II.  ii. 
203-4.) 

Though  it  suits  the  king's  purpose  to  accept  this 
pronouncement  of  Polonius,  he  is  never  quite  convinced 
of  its  truth.  His  instructions  to  his  henchmen,  "Get 
from  him  why  he  puts  on  this  confusion"  (III.  i.  2), 
imply  that  he  understands  it  as  pretence  and  not  real 
lunacy.  He  soon  admits  that  Hamlet's  actions  and 
words  do  not  indicate  madness  but  melancholy : 

^         "What  he  spake,  though  it  lack'd  form  a  little, 
Was  not  like  madness." 

(III.  i.  163-4.) 

But  it  serves  his  wicked  purpose  to  declare  him  a  mad- 
man, and  to  make  this  the  excuse  for  getting  rid  of  him 
by  sending  him  to  England.  In  this  as  in  everything 
the  king  is  insincere,  and  seeks  not  the  truth  but  his 
own  personal  ends. 

Ophelia's  view  that  Hamlet  has  gone  mad  for  love 
of  her  is  of  no  value  on  the  point.  She  is  herself,  rather 
than  Hamlet,  "Like  sweet  bells  jangled  out  of  tune,  and 
harsh."  (III.  i.  158.)  The  poor  distracted  girl  is  no 
judge  of  lunacy,  and  knows  little  of  real  sanity.  She 
cannot  enter  into  the  depth  of  his  mind,  and  cannot 


Hamlet  65 

understand  that  it  is  her  own  conduct  that  is  strange 
and  incoherent. 

W*  There  need  be  no  doubt,  then,  that  Hamlet's  mad-  V" 
ness  was  really  feigned.  He  saw  much  to  be  gained  by 
it,  and  to  this  end  he  did  many  things  that  the  persons 
of  the  drama  must  construe  as  madness.  His  avowed 
intention  was  to  throw  them  off  the  track.  To  under- 
stand the  madness  as  real  is  to  make  of  the  play  a  mad-  / 
house  tragedy  that  could  have  no  meaning  for  the  very 
sane  Englishmen  for  whom  Shakespeare  wrote.  There 
is  dramatic  value  in  such  madness  as  Lear's,  for  the 
play  traces  the  causes  of  his  madness,  and  the  influences 
that  restore  him.  Lear's  madness  had  its  roots  in  his 
moral  and  spiritual  defects,  and  the  cure  was  his  moral 
regeneration.  But  no  such  dramatic  value  can  be  as- 
signed to  Hamlet's  madness.  Shakespeare  never  makes  i 
of  his  dramas  mere  exhibitions  of  human  experience, 
wise  or  otherwise,  but  they  are  all  studies  in  the  spir- 
itual life  of  man.  His  dramas  are  always  elaborate 
attempts  to  get  a  meaning  out  of  life,  not  attempts  to 
show  either  its  mystery,  or  its  inconsequence,  or  its 
madness.  If  Hamlet  were  thought  of  as  truly  mad, 
then  his  entrances  and  his  exits  could  convey  no  mean- 
ing to  sane  persons,  except  the  lesson  to  avoid  insan- 
ity. But  it  needs  no  drama  to  teach  that.1 

Hamlet's  Humor, 

One  of  the  most  outstanding  characteristics  of  Ham- 
let is  his  subtle  and  persistent  humor.     It  crops  out 
at  every  turn,   and   indicates   the  essential  soundness 
of  his  mind.     Madness  does  not  lie  this  way.     Though    '' 
his  troubles  were  sufficient  and  his  task  difficult  enough 

1  Of.  Snider,  Shakespeare  Commentaries,  Tragedies,  chapters  on 
Hamlet,  pp.  286  ff.     St.  Louis,  188T. 


66  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

to  unbalance  almost  any  mind,  yet  Hamlet  retains  from 
first  to  last  a  calm  and  firm  grasp  of  the  situation  in 
both  its  complexity  and  its  incongruity.  No  charac- 

1  ter  in  all  Shakespeare  is  more  evenly  balanced,  and  no 
mind  more  capable  of  seeing  things  in  all  their  bear- 
ings. 

f  If  Hamlet  does  not  really  go  mad  under  his  unparal- 
leled griefs  and  burdens  it  is  because  under  all  cir- 
cumstances his  grim  and  tragic  humor  holds  evenly 
the  balance  of  his  mind.  In  some  of  the  most  tragic 
moments  of  his  career  he  has  the  sanity,  to  play  with 
his  tormentors  and  with  the  sad  conditions  of  his^ffe. 
As~~Sif  Herbert  Tree  has  recently  said:  "But  for 
humor  he  should  go  mad.  Sanity  is  humor." 

The  same  eminent  critic  asserts  that,  "If  the  quality 
of  humor  is  important  in  comedy,  it  is,  I  venture  to  say, 
yet  more  important  in  tragedy,  whether  it  be  in  the 
tragedy  of  life  or  in  the  tragedy  of  the  theatre." 
With  reference  to  this  element  of  humor  in  the  play  of 
Hamlet  Sir  Herbert  Tree  says:  "In  Hamlet,  for  in- 
stance, the  firmament  of  tragedy  is  made  blacker  by 
the  jewels  of  humor  with  which  it  is  bestarred.  .  .  . 
The  first  words  Hamlet  sighs  forth  are  in  the  nature 
of  a  pun: 

"  'A  little  more  than  kin,  and  less  than  kind.' 

"The  king  proceeds :  'How  is  it  that  the  clouds  still 
hang  on  you?'  'Not  so,  my  lord;  I  am  too  much  in 
the  sun,'  says  Hamlet,  toying  with  grief.  Again,  after 
the  ghost  leaves,  Hamlet  in  a  tornado  of  passionate 

1  "Humor  in  Tragedy,"  by  Sir  Herbert  Tree.  Article  in  The 
English  Review,  November,  1915.  In  dealing  with  the  present 
topic  I  find  myself  greatly  indebted  to  this  lecture  by  the  dis- 
tinguished actor  and  critic, 

zlbid.,  p.  352. 


Hamlet  67 

verbiage,  gives  way  to  humor.  Then  he  proceeds  to 
think  too  precisely  on  the  event.  But  for  his  humor 
Hamlet  would  have  killed  the  king  in  the  first  act."  l 
In  nearly  all  his  references  to  the  condition  of  af- 
fairs in  Denmark,  Hamlet  indulges  in  a  grim,  satirical 
humor.  His  first  meeting  with  Horatio  furnishes  op- 
portunity. Directly  after  the  warm  greetings  between 
the  friends  the  following  conversation  takes  place: 

Hamlet.     But  what  is  your  affair  in  Elsinore?  .  .  . 
Horatio.    My  lord,  I  came  to  see  your  father's  funeral. 
Hamlet.     I  pray  thee,  do  not  mock  me,  fellow-student; 

I  think  it  was  to  see  my  mother's  wedding. 
Horatio.     Indeed,  my  lord,  it  follow'd  hard  upon. 
Hamlet.     Thrift,    thrift,    Horatio!    the    funeral   baked-meats 

Did  coldly  furnish  forth  the  marriage  tables. 

(I.  ii.  174-180.) 

Again,  when  Hamlet  is  swearing  his  friends  to  secrecy 
concerning  the  ghost,  they  hear  the  voice  of  the  ghost 
beneath,  saying,  "Swear,"  and  Hamlet  remarks : 

"Ah,  ha,  boy!  say'st  thou  so?  art  there,  true-penny — 
Come  on;  you  hear  this  fellow  in  the  cellarage; 
Consent  to  swear." 

When,  after  shifting  their  ground,  the  ghost's  voice  is 
a^gain  heard,  saying,  "Swear,"  Hamlet  says : 

«.       "Well  said,  old  mole !  canst  work  i'  the  earth  so  fast? 
A  worthy  pioner!" 

(I.  v.  148-163) 

After  his  play,  The  Mouse-trap,  Hamlet  feels  so 
elated  at  the  turn  of  events  and  his  success  in  getting 
evidence  of  the  king's  guilt  that  he  playfully  suggests 
to  Horatio  that  if  all  else  failed  him  he  might  make  a 
sujcess  of  playing  and  get  a  share  in  a  company : 

ilet.     Would  not  this,  sir,  and  a  forest  of  feathers, — if  the 
res|  of  my    fortunes   turn   Turk   with   me, — with  two   Provincial 

[umor  in  Tragedy,"  p.  366. 


;8  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prmce 

,es  on  my  razed  shoes,  get  me  a  fellowship  in  a  cry  of  players, 


Horatio.     Half  a  share. 


This  realm  dismantled  was 
Of  Jove  himself;  and  now  reigns  here 

A  very,  very— pajock. 
Horatio.    You  might  have  rhym  d.  ^   ..   263.273). 

,  in  his  conversation  with  Ophelia  there  is  a 
touch  of  Hamlet's  ironical  humor.  He  slanders  him- 
self saving:  "I  could  accuse  me  of  such  things  tm 

t  were'befter  my  mother  had  not  borne  me_»     Then 
after  Ophelia's  false  declaration  that  her  father  is 
home,  my  lord,"  he  falls  to  railing  on  women  and  mar- 

riage,  and  says  to  her: 


,  heard  of  your 


shall  live;  the  rest 


shall  keep  as  they  are.    To  a  nunnery,  go.      ^    . 

In  talking  with  the  various  spies  that  the  king  send,s 


Hamlet  69 

they  have  a  plentiful  lack  of  wit,  together  with  most 
weak  hams.  .  .  ."  (II.  ii.  173-199). 

Again,  on  the  occasion  when  Polonius  comes  to  sum- 
mon him  to  the  queen's  presence,  Hamlet  pokes  fun  at 
the  old  fellow,  making  him  say  that  "yonder  cloud," 
first,  is  "like  a  camel,"  then,  "like  a  weasel,"  and, 
finally,  "like  a  whale."  (III.  ii.  359-365.)  No  won- 
der Polonius  does  not  know  what  to  make  of  him  and 
calls  him  mad,  though  recognizing  the  possibility  that 
there  may  be  some  "method  in't." 

Another  aspect  of  Hamlet's  humor  glints  forth  in 
his  dealings  with  his  old  school-fellows,  Rosencrantz 
and  Guildenstern.  When  these  unconscionable  spies 
come  to  him  to  inquire  what  he  had  done  with  the 
dead  body  of  Polonius,  he  first  answers :  "Compounded 
it  with  dust,  whereto  't  is  kin."  Then  he  suggests  that 
Rosencrantz  is  only  "a  sponge  .  .  .  that  soaks  up 
the  king's  countenance,  his  rewards,  his  authorities. 
.  .  .  When  he  needs  what  you  have  gleaned,  it  is  but 
squeezing  you,  and,  sponge,  you  shall  be  dry  again." 
(IV.  ii.) 

With  Osric  he  gives  way  to  a  bantering  and  jeering 
humor  very  similar  to  that  with  Polonius.  He  first 
calls  him  a  "water-fly,"  then  "a  chough  .  .  .  spacious 
in  the  possession  of  dirt."  When  Osric  says,  as  an  ex- 
cuse for  not  keeping  his  hat  on  his  head,  that  "  'tis 
very  hot,"  Hamlet  makes  him  say  that  on  the  contrary, 
"It  is  indifferent  cold,  my  lord,  indeed,"  and  the  next 
moment  again  that  "it  is  very  sultry  and  hot." 
(V.  ii.  83-99.) 

In  the  graveyard  scene  with  the  clowns  Hamlet  in- 
dulges freely  in  a  grim  and  melancholy  humor.  On 
the  first  skull  he  says :  "It  might  be  the  pate  of  a  poli- 
tician .  .  .  one  that  would  circumvent  God,  might  it 


70  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prmce 

not?"  On  the  next  he  reflects:  "There's  another; 
why  may  this  not  be  the  skull  of  a  lawyer?  Where  be 
his  quiddits  now,  his  quillets,  his  cases,  his  tenures, 
and  his  tricks?  Why  does  he  suffer  this  rude  knave 
now  to  knock  him  about  the  sconce  with  a  dirty  shovel, 
and  will  not  tell  him  of  his  action  of  battery?"  Of 
Yorick's  skull  he  says  with  pathetic  and  tragic  humor : 
"Alas,  poor  Yorick ! — I  knew  him,  Horatio ;  a  fellow 
of  infinite  jest,  of  most  excellent  fancy."  Then  to  the 
skull  he  says:  "Where  be  your  gibes  now?  your  gam- 
bols? your  songs?  your  flashes  of  merriment,  that  were 
wont  to  set  the  table  on  a  roar?  Not  one  now,  to 
mock  your  grinning?  quite  chop-fallen?"  (V.  i.) 

"Even  in  dying,"  as  Sir  Herbert  Tree  says,  "he 
breaks  into  a  sweet  irony  of  humor,  in  meeting  the  'fell 
Serjeant  death.'  'The  rest  is  silence.'  Hamlet  ends 
as  he  began,  in  humor's  minor  key.  Here  is  the  humor 
of  tragedy  with  a  vengeance.  Poor  Hamlet,  too  much 
humor  had'st  thou  for  this  harsh  world !"  x 

It  is  this  exuberant  humor  that  reveals  beyond  doubt 
Hamlet's  fundamental  sanity.  Shakespeare  was  too 
good  a  judge  of  character  and  of  human  nature  to 
mingle  such  humor  with  madness.  He  has  given  Ham- 
let nearly  all  varieties  of  humor,  from  the  playful  to 
the  sardonic.  Speaking  of  the  king,  Hamlet's  humor 
is  caustic  and  satirical.  To  Polonius  and  the  other 
spies  he  is  playful  and  contemptuous.  In  the  grave- 
yard over  the  skulls  he  is  sardonic  and  pathetic,  and 
over  Yorick's  he  is  melancholy.  In  all  alike  he  is  sane 
and  thoughtful.  This  unfailing  humor  that  toys  with 
life's  comedies  an^trageHTes  alike  cToes  not  come  from 
madness,  but  from  sanity  and  self-possession.  This 
should  make  certain  the  real  soundness  as  well  as  the 

1  "Humor  in  Tragedy,"  p.  367. 


Hamlet  71 

great  fertility  of  Hamlet's  mind.     Humor   and  mad- 
ness do  not  travel  the  same  road. 

"Hamlet's  Transformation." 

The  Hamlet  that  appears  in  the  drama  is  not  the 
Hamlet  with  whom  the  other  characters  of  the  play  are 
familiar.  Up  to  the  opening  of  the  play  there  had 
been  apparently  nothing  about  him  to  mark  him  off 
from  his  friends  and  companions.  He  had  grown  up 
with  no  noticeable  qualities  or  peculiarities,  and  had 
had  no  other  plan  of  life  than  that  which  young  princes 
generally  pursue.  He  had  been  at  college,  acquiring 
the  education  and  culture  proper  to  his  place  in  life. 
He  appears  to  have  grown  up  to  the  strength  of  a 
noble  young  manhood  as  the  leader  of  a  group  of 
friends,  all  of  whom  esteemed  him  highly.  He  was  a 
good  friend,  a  devoted  son,  a  most  popular  prince,  and 
was  not  moved  by  any  great  ambitions,  nor  by  any 
designs  against  any  one. 

But  when  he  first  appears  on  the  stage  in  the  royal 
presence  (I.  ii),  he  is  marked  as  a  melancholy  man. 
His  mother  remonstrates  with  him  for  going  about  with 
his  eyes  downcast,  and  for  being  morose  and  sad.  His 
mother  even  requests  him  to  leave  off  his  mourning  gar- 
ments, his  "inky  cloak"  as  he  calls  it,  and  accuses  him 
of  mourning  over-much  for  his  father.  The  king,  too, 
tries  to  draw  him  away  from  his  sorrows,  by  remind- 
ing him  that  he  is  not  the  first  to  lose  a  father,  saying, 
"your  father  lost  a  father."  Then  he  thinks  to  console 
him  by  suggesting  that  he  will  himself  be  a  father  to 
him,  and  that  he  is  next  heir  to  the  throne.  The  king 
denies  his  request,  however,  to  return  to  the  university, 
and  says  that  instead  they  will  have  plentiful  festivities 
in  Denmark.  At  a  later  time  he  speaks  of  the  great 


78  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prmce 

change  in  him  as  "Hamlet's  transformation,"  and  in- 
structs his  courtiers  "To  draw  him  on  to  pleasures." 
(II.  ii.  15.)  At  the  same  time  the  king  begins  to  won- 
der if  there  is  anything  afflicting  Hamlet  besides  the 
death  of  his  father. 

Hamlet's  melancholy,  as  we  know,  was  due  not  so 
much  to  the  suddenness  and  unexpectedness  of  his 
father's  death,  as  to  the  suspicious  circumstances.  He 
knew  that  the  king  had  stolen  his  "precious  diadem," 
when  he  secured  his  own  immediate  election  to  the  crown 
of  Denmark,  but  he  seemed  to  grieve  very  little  over  his 
loss.  He  knew  also  that  there  was  an  unseemly  haste 
in  the  marriage  of  the  king  and  his  mother  that  re- 
flected somewhat  upon  her  honor.  Then  he  had  suspi- 
cions that  the  death  of  his  father  was  not  as  it  was 
given  out,  but  that  there  was  some  foul  play  on  his 
uncle's  part.  The  interview  with  the  ghost  had  made 
this  more  than  a  suspicion. 

The  revelations  of  the  ghost  wrought  a  great  change 
in  the  mind  and  habits  of  Hamlet.  In  an  instant  he 
experienced  another  transformation  that  was  to  change 
him  into  an  active  participant  in  passing  events.  This 
change  was  chiefly  a  subjective  and  moral  transforma- 
tion, which  he  tried  to  conceal,  especially  from  the 
king.  The  ghost  had  called  upon  him  to  revenge  the 
murder,  and  he  had  definitely  dedicated  himself  to  that 
great  task.  He  had  promised  the  ghost  that  he  would 
wipe  from  the  table  of  his  memory  "all  trivial  fond 
records" : 

"And  thy  commandment  all   alone  shall  live 
Within  the  book  and  volume  of  my  brain." 

(I.  v.  102-3) 

This  change,  however,  he  could  not  conceal  entirely, 
for  it  manifested  itself  in  his  outer  behavior.  Ophelia 


Hamlet  73 

noticed  it  when  he  next  visited  her  and  spoke  of  it  to 
her  father.  He  had  been  accustomed  to  such  a  scrupu- 
lous neatness  in  dress  and  courtliness  of  manner  that 
she  later  spoke  of  him  as  "The  glass  of  fashion,  and 
the  mould  of  form."  (III.  i.  153.)  But  now  all  this 
had  disappeared,  and  he  grew  careless  about  his  ap- 
parel, and  even  came  to  her  in  loose  attire,  and  pain- 
fully nervous : 

"Pale   as  his   shirt;   his   knees   knocking  each  other; 
And  with  a  look  so  piteous  in  purport 
As  if  he  had  been  loosed  out  of  hell 
To  speak  of  horrors." 

(II.  i.  81-84.) 

To  this  offence  he  added  the  apparent  rudeness  of 
staring  her  in  the  face  for  some  time,  and  then  went 
out  of  the  door  keeping  his  eye  upon  her  to  the  last. 
Hamlet  was  evidently  testing  her  to  see  if  she  was  likely 
to  be  true  to  him  in  the  new  task  the  ghost  had  assigned 
him. 

This  visit  of  the  ghost,  then,  marked  the  adoption  of 
his  new  purpose,  and  changed  the  whole  trend  of  his 
life.  Henceforth,  the  revenge  becomes  his  one  all-ab- 
sorbing aim.  His  conception  of  duty  hereafter  rules, 
and  he  makes  everything  else  subservient.  His  whole 
life  is  now  to  be  devoted  to  his  filial  duty.  This  great 
change  in  his  life  the  dramatist  has  portrayed  fully  for 
his  audience  that  they  may  be  impressed  with  the  effect 
of  the  ghost's  visit  upon  the  mind  of  Hamlet,  and  that 
they  may  realize  its  importance  in  the  development  of 
both  plot  and  character. 

Hamlet9 s  Melancholy. 

From  the  opening  of  the  play  Hamlet  has  been 
marked  as  a  melancholy  man.  Apparently  this  had  not 


74  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

been  his  previous  character,  for  the  king  has  spoken  of 
it  as  "Hamlet's  transformation."     This  change  in  him 
was  brought  about  by  brooding  on  the  events  that  had 
just  happened,   and  had  been  not   only  a  mental  but* 
especially  a  moral  reaction. 

Hamlet  is  portrayed  as  having  a  very  sensitive  and 
\  a  very  moral  nature.     He  had  been  greatly  shocked  by 
\  tteTKings  tEat  had  happened,  and  the  suspicions  he 
harbored  constituted  a  direct  challenge   to  his  moral 
faith.     If  the  truth  was  as  he  feared,  then  there  was 
occasion  to  question  the  righteousness  and  justice  of 
the  world,  and  to  wonder  if  life  were  worth  living.    This, 
apparently,  was   Hamlet's   first  encounter   with   great 
trouble,  with  the  slings  and  arrows  of  outrageous  for- 
tune, and  it  proved  a  great  trial  to  his  moral  nature. 

When  the  first  of  these  disturbing  events  occurred, 
Hamlet  was  at  the  university,  and  apparently  he  did 
not  arrive  in  Denmark  until  they  had  all  come  to  pass. 
The  first  of  these  was  the  sudden  death  of  his  father; 
caused  as  it  was  given  out  by  a  serpent's  sting.  The 
circumstances  were  suspicious  and  pointed  to  his  uncle, 
Claudius,  but  there  was  no  certain  evidence. 

Then  followed  immediately  the  election  of  Claudius 
as  the  new  king,  apparently  before  Hamlet  could  reach 
Denmark.  The  great  popularity  of  Hamlet  and  the 
great  love  the  people  bore  him,  were  doubtless  known 
by  him,  and  would  cause  him  to  think  his  uncle  had 
tricked  him  in  the  matter  of  the  election. 

Within  two  months  followed  his  mother's  marriage 
to  his  uncle  Claudius,  which  she  herself  afterward  spoke 
of  as  their  "o'erhasty  marriage."  To  Hamlet  this 
seemed  so  improper,  and  followed  so  hard  upon  the 
funeral  of  his  father  that  he  sarcastically  spoke  of  it 
as  due  to 


Hamlet  75 

"Thrift,  thrift,  Horatio!  the  funeral  baked-meats 
Did  coldly  furnish  forth  the  marriage  tables." 

(I.  ii.  180-1.) 

These  events  had  all  occurred  before  the  opening  of 
the  play,  for  when  his  uncle  and  mother  appear  on  the 
stage  for  the  first  time  (I.  ii.)  they  are  already  king 
and  queen.  Hamlet,  then,  confronts  these  as  accom- 
plished facts,  and  his  mind  is  troubled.  The  suspected 
villainy  of  his  father's  sudden  death  caused  him  great 
worry.  He  was  not  much  concerned  about  losing  the 
crown.  But  he  was  stirred  to  the  depths  of  his  moral 
nature  by  what  he  regarded  as  his  mother's  incestuous 
and  o'erhasty  marriage. 

'Added  to  these  was  the  further  fact  that  under  the 
rule  of  Claudius  his  beloved  Denmark  was  degenerating 
and  being  given  over  to  corruption  and  to  pleasure. 
Everything  seemed  to  him  to  have  gone  wrong.  His 
father  is  dead,  his  mother  dishonored,  and  his  country 
disgraced  and  weakened. 

-  Under  these  conditions  it  is  little  wonder  that  he  be- 
came melancholy,  and  was  in  doubt  whether  or  not  it 
was  worth  while  to  live.  All  he  was  chiefly  interested 
in  had  failed.  The  men  who  were  left  did  not  interest 
him  nor  the  women  either.  He  was  thrown  cruelly 
back  upon  himself,  and  obliged  to  weigh  everything 
anew.  His  confidence  in  the  moral  government  of  the 
world  was  shaken,  and  his  moral  faith  was  shattered. 
Everything  that  was  most  dear  to  him  had  apparently 
been  forsaken  of  heaven,  and  he  was  left  to  struggle  on 
alone.  Under  these  adverse  circumstances  he  wishes 
he  were  dead,  and  exclaims  against  the  world : 

"How  weary,  stale,  flat  and  unprofitable 
Seem  to  me  all  the  uses  of  this  world!" 
(I.  ii.  133-4.) 


76  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prmce 

This,  theiij  is  Hamlet's  melancholy.  It  is  the  melan- 
choly of  the  philosophical  mind,  and  is  induced  by  the 
evils  into  the  midst  of  which  his  young  life  is  suddenly 
plunged.  '  The  course  of  the  play  discloses  his  efforts  to 
overcome  his  doubts  and  to  regain  his  native  faith  in 
God  and  in  goodness  and  to  right  the  wrongs  about  him. 
The  greatness  of  his  mind  and  character  is  seen  in 
the  fact  that  he  soon  recovers  from  the  first  rude  shock, 
and  holding  his  faith  in  the  ultimate  victory  of  truth 
and  right,  he  concludes  that  "It  is  not,  nor  it  cannot 
come  to  good."  (I.  ii.  158.)  Never  again  does  he  allow 
himself  to  fall  into  the  slough  of  despond,  but  through 
darkness  and  light  he  holds  to  his  faith  in  right. 

Hamlet  a  National  Hero. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  Hamlet  from  the  first  under- 
stood his  task  as  more  than  taking  the  life  of  the  king. 
With  the  rebellion  of  Fortinbras  threatening,  and  on 
the  "background  of  general  corruption"  which  the  rule 
of  Claudius  had  induced,  he  saw  his  task  to  be  a  gigan- 
tic national  undertaking.  He  was  not  called  merely 
to  the  physical  labor  of  the  hangman,  but  to  the  moral 
task  of  the  restorer  of  righteousness.  To  take  the  life 
of  the  murderer  needed  only  the  nerve  of  the  common 
assassin,  but  to  "revenge"  the  death  of  the  late  king 
called  for  wisdom  and  tact  of  the  highest  order.  He 
well  knew  that  he  could  not  purge  his  country  with  an 
ssassin's  dagger,  nor  purify  it  by  the  king's  blood. 
Unlike  Fortinbras  and  Laertes,  his  passion  was  not  vin- 
dictiveness,  |ind  could  not  be  satisfied  by  a Ve'riglng"* a 
guilty  king  on  an  innocent  nation. 

An  immediate  attack  upon  the  king,  then,  might  have 
been  courageous,  but  it  would  have  been  foolhardy,  and 
would  have  frustrated  Hamlet's  larger  designs.  The 


JH_- 

Hamlet  77 

king  was  beginning  to  have  a  wholesome  fear  of  Ham- 
let, and  seemed  to  live  in  dread  lest  he  should  raise  up 
an  open  rebellion  against  him.  He  thought  himself 
of  bringing  the  issue  with  Hamlet  to  public  accounting, 
but  he  was  afraid  of  Hamlet's  popularity,  as  he  later 
admits  to  Laertes, 

"Why  to  a  public  count  I  might  not  go, 
Is  the  great  love  the  general  gender  bear  him." 

(IV.  vii.  17-18.) 

Nothing  would  have  been  easier  than  for  Hamlet  to 
make  it  a  public  issue.  If  it  was  easy  for  Laertes  at  a 
later  time  to  raise  up  a  band  against  the  king  whom  he 
thought  had  killed  his  father,  it  would  have  been  doubly 
easy  now  for  Hamlet,  who  according  to  Claudius  him- 
self was  "loved  of  the  distracted  multitude."  But  this 
was  the  very  thing  Hamlet  wished  to  avoid.  He  sees 
his  nation  already  preparing  to  resist  the  threatened 
attack  from  Norway,  and  with  heroic  self-restraint  and 
true  patriotism  he  refrains  from  anything  that  might 
encourage  the  enemy.  He  is  commissioned  rather  to 
save  his  country,  as  well  from  foreign  aggression,  as 
from  the  internal  corruption  that  threatens  its  very  ex- 
istence. The  case  is  desperate  and  the  task  difficult, 
and  he  would  gladly  pursue  a  more  tranquil  career. 
But  he  rises  to  the  necessity,  howsoever  reluctantly,  and  . 
st^toJJll1  pnrsiiea  h^  appointed  task.  OK  Ca«v»<r  e*v  . 

In  all'lihis  Hamlet  remembers  the  warning  of  the 
ghost  not  to  taint  his  mind.  He  obeys  the  injunction 
to  keep  a  clear  conscience,  and  not  make  himself  a 
worse  criminal  in  revenging  the  crime  of  his  uncle. 
This  marks  the  higher  purpose  and  superior  nobleness 
of  character  that  Shakespeare  has  put  into  his  Hamlet, 
thereby  raising  the  tone  of  his  play  above  all  other 
versions  of  the  story.  The  spirit  of  some  other  versions 


78  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

of  the  Hamlet  story  is  very  different,  as  may  be  gath- 
ered from  the  German  play,  Fratricide  Punished,  where 
we  find  in  the  Prologue  the  following  injunction  to  the 
prince:  "Therefore  be  ready  to  sow  the  seeds  of  dis- 
union, mingle  passion  with  their  marriage,  and  put 
jealousy  in  their  hearts.  Kindle  a  fire  of  revenge,  let 
the  sparks  fly  over  the  whole  realm;  entangle  kinsmen 
in  the  net  of  crime,  and  give  joy  to  hell,  so  that  those 
who  swim  in  the  sea  of  murder  may  soon  drown." 

This,  however,  was  the  very  thing  that  Hamlet  made 
every  effort  to  avoid.  As  in  the  version  of  Belleforest, 
Hamlet  was  a  deliverer  of  his  people.  He  tried  to  save 
his  beloved  country  from  the  unjust  and  corrupt  rule 
of  the  king,  and,  as  Shakespeare  has  added  to  his  story, 
he  had  also  to  ward  off  the  threatened  attack  of  Fortin- 
lA'.*s."\Shakespeare  has,  therefore,  made  his  task  doubly 
difficult.  He  must  revenge  his  father,  which  means  he 
must  deliver  Denmark  from  the  corrupting  rule  of 
Claudius.  And  he  must  do  this  without  laying  the 
country  open  to  an  attack  from  Fortinbras.  The 
dramatist  has  made  his  task  more  complicated  and 
hence  more  difficult  than  in  any  other  version  of  the 
story.  But  in  carrying  him  through  without  complete 
failure  in  either  of  his  purposes,  he  has  depicted  in  him 
a  true  national  hero. 

Hr::det  a  Man  of  Peace. 

In  Hamlet,  then,  Shakespeare  has  portrayed  a  kind 
of  national  hero  that  was  new  to  his  age.  As  the  elder 
Hamlet  would  not  make  war  except  to  save  his  country 
from  attack,  the  younger  Hamlet  would  do  nothing 
that  would  bring  abouLa  civil  war  in  Denmark,  or  that 
would  invite  an  invasion  from  Fortinbras.  This  young 
1  Furness's  translation,  Variorum  Hamlet,  II.  p.  122. 


Hamlet  79 

prince  was  of  a  different  stripe,  and  waged  wars  for 
ambition.  As  his  captain  expressed  it: 

"We  go  to  gain  a  little  patch  of  ground 
That  hath  in  it  no  profit  but  the  name." 
(IV.  iv.  18-19.) 

This  was  the  old  type  of  hero,  who  like  the  Roman  gen- 
erals laid  other  nations  under  tribute  and  brought 
many  captives  home  to  Rome.  This  old  nationalism 
was  aggressive  and  ruthless,  and  gloried  in  subjugating 
other  peoples  to  its  rule.  G>*^  ^orV  { 

But  Shakespeare  had  a  vision  of  a  new  type  of  hero 
and  of  j^jnew nationalism  of  peace.  In  the  elder  and 
younger  Hamlet  ~'he~has  depicted  heroes  who  would  not 
force  war  upon  others,  and  who  would  consent  to  war 
only  to  hold  the  possessions  they  had  from  the  de- 
spoiler.  The  older  wars  had  been  the  quarrels  of  ambi- 
tious and  greedy  kings  who  had  not  hesitated  like  the 
elder  Fortinbras  to  dare  his  neighbors  to  combat  in  the 
hope  of  gaining  territory  or  tribute.  With  these  wars 
Shakespeare  was  entirely  out  of  sympathy,  as  so  many 
of  his  plays  give  evidence.  His  Henry  the  Fifth  will 
not  go  to  war  to  steal  from  France,  but  only  to  rescue 
those  provinces  which  are  assuredly  his  by  right. 

Shakespeare's  Hamlet,  then,  is  a  patriot  and  hero  of 
a  new  type,  who  aims  only  to  do  what  is  for  the  good 
of  his  country.    Werder,  therefore,  is  surely  right  when 
he  says  his  purpose  is  not  so  much  to  punish  Claudius 
as  to  bring  him  to  justice, — to  "revenge"  his  father's       rf 
murder.     His  very  inaction,  wrongly  called  procrasti-|p 
nation,   assumes   the  character  of  the  highest   self-re-l 
straint  and  patriotism.    His  one  fault  is  that  he  cannoi** 
always  completely  restrain  himself  in  the  face  of  such 
terrible  provocation,  and  he  occasionally  suffers  him- 
self to  act  rashly  and  without  due  deliberation. 


80       *  *  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

^        Man;     writers   have   answered  the  old   error   of  the 
\      Goethe-  Coleridge  theory  that  Hamlet  is  incapable  of 
action.  (On  the  contrary,  he  is  quite  capable  of  instant 
and  swm  action.^  fee  very  quickly  avails  himself  of 
the  services  of  the  players  brought  to  court  to  amuse 
and  turns  them  to  good  accountA   When  he  dis- 
covers some  one  behind  the  arras  in  his  interview  with 
his  mother,  he  makes  a  sudden  and  daring  pass  that 
shows  him  not  only^caDable  of  action  but  of  impetuous 
r^  t^l  and  instant   action.    /Again,   on  shipboard  he  proves 
Of  I  himself  gallant  in  beaming  the  pirate  ship.    And  in  the 
™  p.    last  encounter  of  the  play,  when  treachery  and  villainy 
^*J*»-are  manifest,  he  quickly  dispatches  not   only  fcaertes 
but  also  the  _kingT*"pa  UJ***  **k\§bf  f*££   -b  He»U  Kio,^ 
with  Hamlet  is  not  inability  to  act,  but 


an  occasional  inability  to  restrain  himself  in  the^midst 
-     ^  1S  oiul     his  determined  inten- 


tion  to  follow  the  ways  of  peace  that  holds  him  back  at 
all.  In  the  main  he  has  most  admirable  self-control, 
and  acts  only  as  he  has  deliberately  planned.  In  so 
great  an  undertaking  as  the  revenge  of  his  father 
amidst  the  troubled  conditions  of  the  times  he  needs 
to  lay  his  plans  well  and  be  sure  before  he  strikes,  in 
order  not  to  fail  in  his  purpose  or  to  give  occasion  for 
further  trouble.  It  is  only  his  occasional  failure  to 
restrain  himself  that  is  the  immediate  cause  of  the  fa- 
tality of  the  drama. 

IV 

1  The  King  and  Hamlet. 

i  I  From  the  beginning  of  the  play  Hamlet  has  been  a 
\  Igreat  problem  and  perplexity  to  the  king.  As  the  one 
\4iying  person  most  grievously  injured  by  the  murder  of 


Hamlet  81 

the  late  king,  the  guilty  conscience  of  Claudius  compels 
him  to  keep  an  eye  on  Hamlet.     He  has   shown  such  «* 
diabolical  cleverness  in  the  murder  of  his  brother  that  y\ 
at  first  he  has  little  fear  that  Hamlet  will  discover  the 
truth.     He  is  alarmed  at  his  melancholy,  and  the  first 
words  he  addresses  to  him  in  the  play  disclose  his  anx- 
iety : 

"But  now,  my  cousin  Hamlet,  and  my  son,  .  .  . 
How  is  it  that  the  clouds  still  hang  on  you?" 

(I.  ii.  64,  66.) 

Assuming  that  his  sadness  all  comes  from  the  death  of 
his  father,  the  king  tries  to  reconcile  Hamlet  to  the 
death  by  reminding  him  that  "all  that  lives  must  die, 
Passing  through  nature  to  eternity."  (72-3.)  Seeing 
he  cannot  divert  Hamlet's  mind  by  chiding  him,  he  then 
commends  him  for  mourning  for  his  father,  and  tries 
to  turn  his  mind  to  his  own  affairs  by  saying  to  him, 
"You  are  the  most  immediate  to  our  throne,"  and  de- 
nies his  request  to  return  to  Wittenberg,  begging  him, 

"to  remain 

Here,  in  the  cheer  and  comfort  of  our  eye, 
Our  chiefest  courtier,  cousin,  and  our  son." 

(I.  ii.  115-7.) 

This  feigned  solicitude  on  behalf  of  Hamlet,  the  king 
carries  out  very  adroitly,  and  succeeds  in  impressing  it 
upon  his  henchmen.  Rosencrantz  has  learned  it,  and 
at  a  later  time  gives  it  utterance.  When  he  tries  to 
draw  out  of  him  the  cause  of  his  distemper,  Hamlet 
replies :  "Sir,  I  lack  advancement."  Then  Rosen- 
crantz quickly  responds:  "How  can  that  be,  when 
you  have  the  voice  of  the  king  himself  for  your  succes- 
sion in  Denmark?"  (III.  ii.  325-326.) 

All  this,  of  course,  fails  to  deceive  Hamlet,  who  is 
only  made  the  sadder  by  the  assurance  of  the  king's 


82  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

dissimulation.  In  the  great  soliloquy  in  which  he  un- 
burdens his  heart,  he  sees  no  way  out  of  his  sorrows, 
and  wishes  that  he  might  die.  With  no  jot  of  any  ob- 
jective evidence,  and  with  his  suspicions  plaguing  him, 
Hamlet  finds  it  necessary  to  conduct  himself  circum- 
spectly in  all  his  dealings  with  the  king.  Morally  cer- 
tain of  the  king's  guilt,  and  assured  of  his  depraved 
character,  he  breaks  out  into  a  flood  of  inquiries  when 
first  he  sees  his  father's  ghost.  He  begs  piteously  of 
the  ghost, 

"Let  me  not  burst  in  ignorance;  but  tell 
Why  thy  canoniz'd  bones,  hearsed  in  death, 
Have  burst  their  cerements;  .  .  . 
Say,  why  is  this?  wherefore?  what  should  we  do?" 

(I.  iv.  46-5T.) 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  after  the  disclosures  of 
the  ghost  Hamlet  wanted  to  kill  the  king.  He  evi- 
dently had  this  as  part  of  his  plan,  and  was  awaiting 
only  the  proper  time.  He  not  only  conceived  it  as  no 
wrong,  but  even  as  a  moral  duty.  He  later  said  to 
Horatio, 

"is't  not  perfect  conscience 

To  quit  him  with  this  arm?  and  is't  not  to  be  damn'd, 
To  let  this  canker  of  our  nature  come 
In  further  evil?" 

(V.  ii.  67-70.) 

He  wanted  to  kill  the  king,  and,  doubtless,  as  Bradley 
says,  "without  sacrificing  his  own  life  or  freedom."  He 
did  not  want  to  leave  "a  wounded  name,"  but  as  Werder 
thinks  he  hoped  to  make  it  appear  to  the  people  as  a 
right  and  proper  revenge  for  the  king's  crime.  And 
he  therefore  waited  only  for  such  objective  evidence  as 
would  confirm  his  suspicions  and  as  could  be  presented 
to  the  people.  Hamlet  had  no  desire  to  play  the  part 


Hamlet  83 

of  an  assassin,  but  his  conception  of  duty  made  him 
willing  to  take  up  the  task  of  moral  avenger.  / 

The  first  step  in  the  confirmation  of  Hamlet's  sus- 
picions was  the  disclosures  of  the  ghost.  This,  how- 
ever, did  not  fully  and  finally  convince  him,  for  he 
thought  he  might  be  deceived  and  the  spirit  he  had 
seen  might  be  an  evil  spirit  that  was  trying  to  lead  him 
to  destruction: 

"The  spirit  that  I  have  seen 
May  be  the  devil;  and  the  devil  hath  power 
To  assume  a  pleasing  shape;  yea,  and  perhaps 
Out  of  my  weakness  and  my  melancholy, 
As  he  is  very  potent  with  such  spirits, 
Abuses  me  to  damn  me." 

(II.  ii.  574-579.) 

He  therefore  resolves  not  to  act  without  further  evi- 
dence, and  to  await,  as  he  says,  "grounds  More  rela- 
tive." (U.  579-80.) 

For  some  time  no  means  of  obtaining  the  required 
evidence  was  at  hand.  Hamlet  therefore  had  nothing 
to  do  but  wait.  The  wished-for  opportunity  came  only 
with  the  advent  of  the  players.  He  had  failed  entirely 
to  obtain  any  objective  evidence  of  the  suspected  mur- 
der, but  he  at  once  saw  in  the  play  the  chance  to  secure 
some  real  evidence.  His  quick  wit  seized  upon  the  idea 
of  having  the  players  enact  a  scene  like  the  reported 
murder  of  his  father,  and  the  response  of  the  king  to 
this  play  would  reveal  beyond  doubt  his  guilt  or  inno- 
cence : 

"I'll  have  these  players 

Play   something  like  the  murder   of  my   father 
Before  mine  uncle;  I'll  observe  his  looks; 
I'll  tent  him  to  the  quick;  if  he  but  blench, 
I  know  my  course." 

(II.  ii.  570-4.) 


84  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

Before  the  enactment  of  the  play  he  took  Horatio  into 
his  confidence,  telling  him  that  one  scene  of  the  play 
would  "come  near  the  circumstance,  Which  I  have  told 
thee,  of  my  father's  death."  (III.  ii.  71-2.)  Then  he 
asked  him  to  observe  his  uncle,  and  afterwards  they 
would  consult  together  and  judge  "his  seeming." 

The  Polonius  Family. 

In  all  his  treacherous  and  nefarious  undertakings  the 
king  found  willing  accomplices  and  tools.  The  chief 
of  these  was  his  crafty  and  unscrupulous  old  steward, 
Polonius.  From  the  beginning  there  is  evidence  that 
the  king  had  had  assistance  from  him  in  the  murder  of 
his  brother.  When  Laertes  asked  permission  to  return 
to  Paris  the  king  showed  evidence  of  his  obligation  to 
Polonius  by  assuring  Laertes  that  he  would  do  what- 
ever Polonius  desired  in  the  matter: 

"The  head  is  not  more  native  to  the  heart, 
The  hand  more  instrumental  to  the  mouth, 
Than  is  the  throne  of  Denmark  to  thy  father. 
What  wouldst  thou  have,  Laertes?" 

(I.  ii.  47-50.) 

When  Polonius  requests  it,  the  king  immediately  gives 
his  permission  for  Laertes  to  return  to  Paris. 

On  his  part,  Polonius  is  at  the  king's  service,  and  is 
prepared  to  go  any  length  to  please  him : 

"I  hold  my  duty,  as  I  hold  my  soul, 
Both  to  my  God  and  to  my  gracious  king." 

(II.  ii.  44.5.) 

Just  what  assistance  he  had  rendered  the  king  in  dis- 
posing of  his  brother  and  securing  the  crown  the  play 
does  not  make  clear.  But  the  deep  debt  the  king  ac- 
knowledges to  Polonius  suggests  some  very  important 
and  valuable  service.  Hamlet  from  the  first  knows  he 


Hamlet  85 

is  dishonest  and  untrustworthy.  When  Polonius  re- 
sents being  called  a  "fishmonger,"  Hamlet  says :  "Then 
I  would  you  were  so  honest  a  man."  (II.  ii.  175.) 

The  parting  scene  with  Laertes  discloses  the  subtle 
and  crafty  character  of  the  entire  Polonius  family,  and 
reveals  further  their  close  relation  to  the  royal  house- 
hold. Even  Laertes  appears  as  a  suspicious  and  not 
over-honorable  young  man.  His  parting  advice  to  his 
sister  shows  him  to  have  an  evil  mind,  and  exhibits  him 
as  crafty  and  "wise,"  but  not  generous  or  noble-minded. 
Ophelia  on  her  part  suspects  that  her  brother,  while 
exhorting  her  to  virtue,  himself  follows  pleasure : 

"But,  good  my  brother, 
Do  not,  as  some  ungracious  pastors  do, 
Show  me  the  steep   and  thorny  way  to  heaven, 
Whiles,  like  a  puff' d  and  reckless  libertine, 
Himself  the  primrose  path  of  dalliance  treads 
And  recks  not  his  own  rede." 

(I.  iii.  46-51.) 

Polonius  himself  appears  exceedingly  sagacious  and 
cunning,  and  entirely  lacking  in  moral  principles.  He 
is  perfectly  willing  to  do  any  bidding  of  the  king,  and 
is  only  a  crafty  old  time-server.  His  advice  to  his 
daughter  shows  him  very  politic  and  very  indelicate, 
but  entirely  lacking  in  the  larger  wisdom.  Ophelia 
herself  is  a  tender-hearted  maiden,  but  her  rearing 
under  the  tuition  of  her  subtle  father  has  made  her 
weak  and  tractable.  This  scene  depicts  the  entire 
family  in  a  very  unfavorable  light,  that  is  not  sub- 
stantially changed  throughout  the  rest  of  the  play. 

Polonius  is  so  naturally  suspicious  and  crafty  that 
he  even  spies  upon  Laertes  in  Paris.  On  sending  Rey- 
naldo  to  him  with  money,  he  instructs  him  before  he 
visits  Laertes  "to  make  inquiry  Of  his  behavior."  (II. 


86  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

i.  4-5.)  The  methods  he  instructs  Reynaldo  to  employ 
are  in  themselves  low  and  dishonorable. 

It  is  in  connection  with  Ophelia,  however,  that  the 
base,  unscrupulous  character  of  Polonius  is  most  in 
evidence.  He  induces  this  poor,  foolish  girl  to  give 
up  her  letters  from  Hamlet  that  he  may  look  them 
over  and  read  them  to  the  king  in  order  to  see  if  they 
can  find  anything  to  trap  Hamlet.  He  is  completely 
at  the  king's  service,  and  when  he  inquires  of  the  king, 
"What  do  you  think  of  me?"  the  king  replies,  "As  of 
a  man  faithful  and  honorable."  (II.  ii.  128-129.) 
Polonius  is  so  well  satisfied  with  his  own  ability  as  a 
spy  that  he  assures  the  king  he  will  find  out  the  mys- 
tery of  Hamlet  without  doubt,  for  he  can  find  truth 
even  when  hid  in  the  centre  of  the  earth.  (II.  ii.  157-8.) 

The  master-piece  of  the  old  man's  villainy,  however, 
is  his  use  of  his  daughter  as  a  decoy  to  entrap  Hamlet. 
In  his  zeal  to  serve  the  king  he  does  not  hesitate  to 
sacrifice  his  daughter,  for  which  Hamlet  calls  him 
"Jephthah."  He  arranges  with  the  king  that  some 
time  when  Hamlet  is  walking  in  the  lobby,  as  he  fre- 
quently does,  then 

"At  such  a  time  I'll  loose  my  daughter  to  him; 
Be  you  and  I  behind  an  arras  then." 

(II.  ii.  161-2.) 

This  suits  the  king  admirably,  and  he  explains  it  to  the 
queen,  requesting  her  withdrawal: 

"For  we  have  closely  sent  for  Hamlet  hither, 
That  he,  as  'twere  by  accident,  may  here 
Affront  Ophelia. 

Her  father  and  myself,  lawful  espials, 
Will  so  bestow  ourselves  that,  seeing  unseen, 
We  may  of  their  encounter  frankly  judge." 

(III.  i.  29-34.) 


Hamlet  87 

In  the  interview  Hamlet  treats  Ophelia  most  hon- 
orably until  he  discovers  that  he  is  speaking  as  well 
to  ears  behind  the  arras.  Most  students,  and  especially 
the  actors,  are  conscious  of  deficient  stage  directions 
for  this  scene,  and  recognize  the  need  of  some  visible 
or  audible  move  upon  the  part  of  Polonius  or  the  king 
that  reveals  their  presence  to  Hamlet.1  At  once  the 
tone  of  Hamlet  changes,  and  he  turns  harshly  upon 
Ophelia,  and  takes  back  all  words  of  affection.  Then, 
apparently  thinking  she  may  not  realize  the  baseness 
of  her  treachery  and  thinking  to  give  her  one  more 
chance  to  disavow  her  part  in  it,  he  inquires,  "Where's 
your  father?"  When  she  replies,  "At  home,  my  lord," 
he  is  sure  not  only  that  she  is  a  party  to  the  spying 
but  that  she  is  also  untruthful.  Then  with  a  few 
harsh  words  he  leaves  her,  never  to  trust  her  again. 

It  is  Hamlet's  fate  to  be  concerned  in  the  death  of 


all  the  Polonius  family.  Oj3heJ^aJ_jlkcj^ 
over  her^misfprtune,  and  aTlast  goes  distracted.  No 
~doubt  the  sadness  and  disappointment  of  her  relations 
with  Hamlet  had  something  to  do  with  her  madness  and 
her  death.  Polonius  himself  pays  for  his  treachery 
with  his  life  the  next  time  he  attempts  to  spy  upon 
Hamlet  in  the  interview  with  the  queen.  Laertes  sur- 
vives until  induced  by  the  king  to  accept  the  duel  with 
Hamlet,  when  he  is  killed  with  the  poisoned  rapier 
he  had  treacherously  prepared  for  the  prince.  He 
lived  to  discover  the  insidious  designs  of  the  king  in 
arranging  the  duel,  and  to  repent  his  part  in  it.  He 
acknowledged  his  own  wrong-doing,  saying,  "I  am 
justly  kill'd  with  mine  own  treachery"  (V.  ii.  294),  and 
with  his  dying  words  absolved  Hamlet  from  all  blame 

1Cf.     Some  Thoughts  on  Hamlet,  by  H.  B.  Irving,  pp.  21-22, 
Sydney,  Australia,  1911. 


88  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

either  for  his  father's  or  his  own  death,  and  begged 
his  forgiveness: 

"Exchange  forgiveness  with  me,  noble  Hamlet; 
Mine  and  my  father's  death  come  not  upon  thee, 
Nor  mine  on  me!" 

(V.  ii.  316-8.) 

Hamlet's  School-Fellows. 

The  king  had  also  other  willing  but  less  capable  spies 
in  his  service.  We  find  him  using  two  of  Hamlet's  play- 
mates (II.  ii.  11)  and  school- fellows,  Rosencrantz  and 
Guildenstern  (III.  iv.  202),  pretending  to  be  anxious  to 
remedy  Hamlet's  trouble.  He  instructs  these  young 
men, 

"To  draw  him  on  to  pleasures,  and  to  gather  .  .  . 
Whether  aught  to  us  unknown  afflicts  him  thus." 

(II.  ii.  15-17.) 

The  king  seems  to  hope  and  to  fear  against  hope  that 
his  nephew  has  no  suspicions  of  the  murder,  though 
he  thinks  it  best  to  watch  him  very  carefully.  At  first 
these  old  friends  of  Hamlet's  may  not  have  known  the 
treachery  of  the  king,  and  may  not  have  intended  to  be 
used  against  him,  but  later  they  prove  themselves  the 
willing  tools  of  any  baseness  the  king  can  devise.  They 
continued  to  do  the  king's  bidding  after  Hamlet  had 
made  it  very  apparent  that  he  regarded  them  as  trai- 
tors to  his  own  interests. 

With  the  resourcefulness  that  so  often  characterizes 
the  desperate  man,  the  king  utilizes  these  henchmen 
to  try  to  discover  the  mystery  of  Hamlet.  But  Hamlet 
is  easily  more  than  a  match  for  them,  as  he  was  for 
Polonius,  and  they  very  soon  find  out  that  he  is  not 
open  for  inspection.  They  approach  Hamlet  just  as 
Polonius  is  leaving,  without  having  gained  any  informa- 


Hamlet  89 

tion,  but  not  in  time  to  hear  Hamlet's  remark,  "These 
tedious  old  fools."  They  are  received  very  cordially 
by  Hamlet,  and  greeted  by  him  as  "My  excellent  good 
friends,"  in  a  way  to  shame  them  of  their  mission,  if 
they  had  any  shame  in  them. 

The  fact  that  they  were  handed  on  to  him  by  Polo- 
nius  seems  to  put  Hamlet  on  his  guard.  Almost  at 
once  he  asks  them  what  brought  them  hither,  and 
when  they  cannot  answer  clearly  he  puts  it  to  them 
more  pointedly,  "what  make  you  at  Elsinore?"  Their 
evasive  answer  leads  him  to  ask  directly,  "Were  you 
not  sent  for?"  and  they  confess  they  were.  This  ex- 
ceeding smallness  of  their  characters  leads  him  to  try 
to  shame  them  by  his  eloquent  words  on  the  greatness 
of  man :  "What  a  piece  of  work  is  man !  how  noble  in 
reason!  how  infinite  in  faculty!  in  form  and  moving, 
how  express  and  admirable !  in  action  how  like  an  angel ! 
in  apprehension,  how  like  a  god!  the  beauty  of  the 
world !  the  paragon  of  animals !"  (II.  ii.  295-9.)  They 
are  not  shamed  and  not  warned,  however,  but  like  the 
simple  pass  on  and  are  punished. 

These  intimations  that  Hamlet  is  not  unconscious 
of  their  mission  do  not  dissuade  them  from  further 
attempts.  After  the  play,  they  try  him  once  more, 
and  again  fail,  this  time  ignominiously.  They  are  not 
so  wise  and  clever  at  dissembling  as  Polonius,  and  it 
does  not  take  Hamlet  long  to  turn  the  tables  on  them. 
Very  stupidly  they  ask  him  directly,  "What  is  the  cause 
of  your  distemper?"  When  they  admit  they  cannot 
play  upon  the  pipe  he  offers  them,  he  turns  sharply  on 
them,  saying,  "You  would  play  upon  me,"  and  ends  up 
by  telling  them,  "Call  me  what  instrument  you  will, 
though  you  can  fret  me,  you  cannot  play  upon  me." 
(III.  ii.  354-5.) 


90  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

In  spite  of  this  complete  exposure,  they  continue  to 
act  the  part  of  traitors.  Their  last  treachery  is  to 
assist  in  Hamlet's  banishment  to  England,  and  but  for 
his  adroitness  they  would  have  been  participants  in 
his  execution.  They  were  such 'willing  and  unscrupu- 
lous agents  of  the  king  that  Hamlet  has  no  compunc- 
tions in  turning  their  treachery  upon  themselves  and 
contriving  that  they  be  "hoist  with  their  own  petar." 

There  is  no  need  to  shed  tears  over  these  traitors. 
Though  Hamlet  was  a  very  unwilling  "scourge  and 
minister"  of  heaven  in  the  death  of  Polonius,  he  has  no 
hesitation  in  preparing  revenge  upon  these  school-fel- 
lows. He  wept  bitter  tears  for  killing  Polonius,  even 
though  he  recognized  the  justice  of  his  death,  but  he 
did  not  weep  over  the  fate  of  Rosencrantz  and  Guilden- 
stern.  In  view  of  the  baseness  of  their  act  and  the 
great  issues  at  stake  for  himself  and  his  country,  he 
recognizes  the  moral  retribution  of  the  end  that  over- 
takes them: 

"They  are  not  near  my  conscience;  their  defeat 
Does   by  their   own  insinuation   grow." 

(V.  ii.  58-59.) 

The  baseness  of  these  spies,  Rosencrantz  and  Guild- 
enstern,  as  well  as  Polonius,  serves  to  reveal  further 
the  desperate  character  of  the  king.  He  was  ready  to 
use  every  treachery  against  Hamlet,  and  would  not  stop 
before  putting  him  to  death.  No  doubt  it  was  only  the 
great  popularity  of  Hamlet  in  Denmark  and  the  fear 
that  any  treachery  might  be  discovered  that  prevented 
him  from  committing  another  murder.  His  dealings 
with  Hamlet,  apart  from  the  ghost's  words  and  his  own 
confession,  make  clear  to  us  that  he  was  quite  capable 
of  the  murder  of  his  brother.  But  his  adroitness  in 
covering  up  the  traces  of  his  villainy  make  Hamlet's 


Hamlet  91 

task  very  difficult.  And  the  retribution  that  finally 
overtakes  him  is  not  more  for  the  foul  murder  of  his 
brother  than  for  the  new  treachery  of  the  duel. 

Hamlet  and  Ophelia. 

The  relations  of  Hamlet  and  Ophelia,  and  the  ap- 
parent cruelty  of  her  casting-off,  have  been  the  subject 
of  much  discussion.     Hamlet  himself  appears  to  have, 
found   it   almost   heartbreaking    to    discard   her,    and  v>»ko 
finally  did  so  only  when  convinced  that  she  was  treach^fe.  ..   } 
erous  and  untruthful!     Any  condemnation  or  justilica-^P*      * 
tion   of  Hamlet^s   conduct   in   this   sad   affair   can 
reached  only  by  a  very  careful  consideration  of  all  the 
circumstances,    fct*  -  *V*«*1  C*  <  «  *fc  *  4V  *  tff* 
There   is   much  evidence   in   the   play   that   Hamlet 
once  loved  Ophelia  sincerely.     The  parting  words  of 
Laertes  to  his  sister  as  he  is  about  to  return  to  Paris 
make  it   clear  that  Hamlet  had  long  been  known  as 
her  lover.      (I.   iii.)      Hamlet's  letter  assured  her  of 
his  unalterable  love,  and  vowed  that  he  loved  her  best. 
(II.  ii.)     In  the  scene  in  which  Polonius  and  the  king 
are  concealed  behind  the  arras,  he  told  her  "I  did  love 
you  once."     (III.  i.  114-15.)     And  in  the  burial  scene, 
over  her  dead  body,  he  uttered  the  words,   "I  loved 
Ophelia,"  and  went  on  to  say  that  his  love  was  more 
than  that  of  forty  thousand  brothers.     (V.  i.  257-9.) 
Ophelia  herself  thought  he  loved  her,  and  reported  to 
her  father  that,  "He  hath,  my  lord,  of  late  made  many 
tenders  of  his  affection  to  me."     (I.  iii.  99-100.) 

Other  persons  of  the  play  also  thought  he  loved  her. 
/^fne  queen  said  mournfully  at  the  funeral,  "I  hopeoy 
I  thou  shouldst  have  been  my  Hamlet's  wife."      (V.   i. 
l£S2.)     Laertes  was   at  first  doubtful  of  his  love  for* 
her  but  later  admits,  "Perhaps  he  loves   you  now. 


92  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

(I.  iii.  14.)  Polonius,  too,  had  his  doubts,  and  was 
convinced  only  by  Hamlet's  visit  to  Ophelia  in  which 
he  appeared  ungroomed  and  troubled  in  mind.  (II.  i.) 
h^  kin  seemed  satisfied  that  Hamlet's  love  for 


Ophelia  waj^geayjne  and  honorable. 
C  &J*S~'  At  firstj^aerte|>and  BaUuiius^were  unwilling  to  be- 
g^»    t  lieve    that  Hamlet   had    honorable    intentions    toward 
I  vdiVyQph6^'      Laertes    was    the    first    to    warn    his    sister 
i    ^  7  against  Hamlet,  and  to  suggest  to  her  that     Hamlet 
•^     '^wished  only  to  take  advantage  of  her.     And  Polonius 
0i%tv     likewise  warns  her  against  him,  saying  that  his  vows 
are  "But  mere  implorators  of  unholy  suits."     (I.  iii. 
129.)     He  therefore  instructs  her  to  repel  his  letters 
and  to  deny  him  access  to  her.     (II.  i.  108-110.) 

The  reason  for  this  scepticism  was  that  neither 
Laertes  nor  Polonius  thought  Hamlet,  as  a  Prince, 
could  marry  the  daughter  of  a  chamberlain^  Laertes 
assured  ms  sister  that  Hamjet,  would  rm|  HP  _frp.p  to 
choose  a  wife  for  himself^but  would  be  "subject  to 
his  ""birth,"  and  that  his  choice  would  be  settled  by  the 
necessities  of  the  state.  (I.  iii.  17-24.)  (  Polonius  at 
first  did  not  deign  to  make  this  explanation  to  her 
when  he  warned  her  against  Hamlet,  but  seems  later 
to  have  reminded  her  that  "Lord  Hamlet  is  a  prince, 
out  of  thy  star."  (II.  ii.  140.)  At  first,  then, 
Polonius  said,  "I  fear'd  he  did  but  trifle"  (II.  i.  112), 
though  later  he  appears  to  be  convinced  of  the  reality 
jjL  ^  of  Hamlet's  love. 

^*~\SS*\TL  view  of  his  love  for  her,  Hamlet  did  not  find  it 
^  V?  easy  to  give  up  Ophelia.     Even  to  the  last  he  loved 
< 


*•  &      n<^r5  though  he  found  it  impossible  to  marry  her.     For 
r*  *        this,  there  appear  to  be  two  reasons.    In  the  first  place, 
he  found  love  and  marriage  incompatible  with  his  task 
of  revenging  his  father.     As  soon  as  he  received  the 


Hamlet          .        t>f'^r>. 


revelations  of  the  ghost  he  realized  that  his  task  would 
require  the  renunciation  of  every  other  plan  of  life, 
and  the  abandonment  of  every  other  .hope ,and  ambition. 
He  promised  the  ghost  to  "wipe  away  all  trivial  fond 
records,"  and  assured  the  ghost  that 

"thy   commandment  all  alone  shall  live 
Within  the  book  and  volume  of  my  brain, 
Unmix'd  with  baser  matter." 

(I.  v.  102-4.) 

Hamlet  may  have  thought  that  his  great  task  would 
absorb  all  his  energies,  and  tax  all  his  powers,  not 
leaving  any  opportunity  for  love  and  marriage;  or  he 
may  have  thought  that  in  his  hazardous  adventure  ht 
would  likely  lose  his  life.  In  either  case,  love  and  mar- 
riage were  not  for  him. 

It  is  quite  likely,  however,  that  there  was  also  an- 
other reason  as  well.  Hamlet  seems  to  have  been  con- 
vince^! that  Ophelia  did  "not  now  love  him,_  whatever 
mign't  naVe  teHTTlW  case  in  the  past.  vVh^n  Ophelia 
remarked  about  the  prologue  to  his  play  of  The  Mouse- 
trap that  "  'Tis  brief,  my  lord,"  he  instantly  retorted,' 
doubtless  thinking  both  of  his  mother  and  of  her,  "As 
woman's  love."  (III.  ii.  143-4.)  Whether  the  cause  oJ: 
her  ceasing  to  love  him  was  fickleness  or  an  inability  t( 
appreciate  the  noble  qualities  of  his  nature,  the  f ac  ; 
seems  to  be  that  Hamlet  felt  she  no  longer  loved 
Ij^was  a  great  grief  to  him,  and  he  did  not  part  with 
herwitnout  ^^^tiiiSQrrpy. 

Hamlet,  however,  did  not  discard  her  until  he 
her  treacherous  and  untruthful.  yHad  Ophelia  not 
given  herself  to  her  father's  schemes  against  hin 
might  have  continued  his  affections,  but  when  he 
obliged  to  doubt  her  fidelity,  there  wa^  nothing  left  for 
him  but  to  cast  heroff.  When  he  visited  her,  Dishevelled 


W.4      fr*  .W-   - 


and  nervous,  hjs^purpose  apparently  was  to  pry  into 
hej^very  soul,  ano^sec  if  he  could  trust  her.     The  doubts 
that  came  to  him  then  were  confirmed  later  when  he 
found  her  playing  the  part  of  decoy  for  her  father, 
his  was  the  final  and  convincing  evidence  of  her  un- 
[   worthiness,  and  he  never  trusted  her  after. 

nlet's  behavior  toward  Ophelia  was  no  doubt 
cruel,  as  all  such  affairs  are  cruel;  but  as  with Jiis 
mother  later  he  was  cruel  only  to  be  kind.  It  should 
be  recalled  that  at  tne  time  of  his ""parting  interview 
with  her  Hamlet  was  very  greatly  burdened  in  spirit. 
He  had  just  spoken  his  great  soliloquy,  and  had  de- 
bated with  himself  the  question  of  pursuing  his  revenge 
even  at  the  cost  of  his  life.  With  this  load  upon  his 
spirit  he  must  have  felt  her  treachery  very  keenly. 
Her  assumption  of  the  part  of  injured  innocence  while 
all  the  time  she  knew  that  her  father  and  the  king  were 
listening  to  every  word  of  Hamlet,  and  then  her  false- 
hood when  asked  about  her  father,  surely  revealed  her 
unworthy  of  the  np,b1p  Tfafnlp*  -  It  was  only  then  that 
he  suggested  she  should  never  marry  by  saying,  "Get 
ithee  to  a  nunnery." 

£V\p^V      There  is  no  evidence  in  the  play  that  Ophelia  her- 
self actively  took  part  against  Hamlet,  but  only  that 
she  accepted  the  position  of  decoy  for  her  father's  craft 
and  cunning.     Her  very  weaknesj^hpweverj  was  itself 
enemy  to  HamleTs  welfareT  and  he  had  tor leave  her. 
Bi^Ti^t8ltTi^r"TiwH3es'sness  very  keenly.     It  was  not, 
however,  the  fault  of  Hamlet  that  Ophelia's  mind  be- 
distracted.    ^The  prime  cause  of  her  misfortune 
^     was  rather  the  suspicions   and   the   treachery   of  her 
»    wf  fatliar  and  the  king,  whose  innocent  victim  she  was.} 
£  v      //But   Hamlet   never    forgot   his    love    for   "the    fair 
'   Ophelia."    At  the  play,  when  his  mother  asked  him  to 


Hamlet  95 

sit  by  her,  he  lay  down  at  Ophelia's  feet  instead,  say- 
ing, "No,  good  mother,  here's  metal  more  attractive.". 
(III.  ii.  103.)  Ophelia  still  had  some  power  over  him, 
and  he  continued  near  her  throughout  the  play.  Then 
when  he  found  himself  at  last  unwittingly  at  her  funer- 
al, his,  old  love  returned  and  led  him  to  y 
tes  in  the  expression  of  grief  and  he  says.: 

Hi* 

"I  loved  Ophelia;  forty  thousand  brothers 
Could  not,  with  all  their  quantity  of  love, 
Make  up  my  sum." 

(V 


/It  is  apparent,  then,  that  though  he  had  cast  her  off, 
Oie  never  ceased  to  love  her.    In  her  death  he  pitied  her, 
but  he  could  never  scorn  her. 


The  Opportunity  of  the  Players. 

In  spite  of  all  his  efforts  and  his  "antic  disposition," 
Hainlet  had  not  secured  any  objective  ;  evidence  ^  that 
the  king  'was  guilty  of  his  fathers  mju^ 

to  execut(Tthe  ?  I^ 


first  'event  that~afrorded  him  a  real  opportunity^  hojw-     „ 
ever,  was  trie"  bringing  of  the  players  ^to  court,  pre-"  1 
surfiKbl}'  -ttrtiivml  him  ft'o1ii"1his  melancHoTy"     His 
wit  instantly  seized  upon  the  occasion  given  him  to  turn 
them  to  his  own  account.    He  welcomes  the  actors,  and 
recognizes  the  first  player  as  an  old  friend,  and  expects 
that  he  will  lend  himself  to  his  ends.    Then  he  tries  out 
the  first  player,  and  after  satisfying  himself  of  their 
ability,  he  arranges  for  them  to  enact  a  play  that  he 
calls  The  Murder  of  Gonzago.    He  wants  them  to  have 
it  ready,  as  he  says,  by  "to-morrow  night." 

Hamlet  seems  greatly  pleased  at  this  opportunity. 
It  furnishes  him  with  just  the  kind  of  opening  he  has 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

a\d  Hamlet  the  inactive  becomes  henceforth 
valiant.  His  refraining  from  killing  the 
king  at  sight  is  now  seen,  for  the  first  time  clearly,  to 
be  part  of  a  more  comprehensive  and  far-reaching 
scheme.  He  instantly  grasps  the  possibilities  of  this 
opportunity,  and  his  evident  delight  is  observed  by 
those  about  him.  In  reporting  the  incident  to  the 
queen  later,  Rosencrantz  said,  "there  did  seem  in  him 
a  kind  of  joy  To  hear  of  it."  (III.  i.  18-19.) 

At  first  Hamlet  does  not  report  his  plans  even  to 
Horatio,  and  we  learn  them  only  from  his  soliloquy : 

"I'll  have  these  players 

Play  something  like  the  murder  of  my  father 
Before  mine  uncle;  I'll  observe  his  looks; 
I'll  tent  him  to  the  quick;  if  he  but  blench, 
I  know  my  course." 

(II.  ii.  570-4.) 

In  this  soliloquy  he  discloses  his  mind  for  the  first  time. 
He  has  hesitated  to  kill  the  king  on  the  sole  evidence 
of  the  ghost,  for  "the  spirit  that  I  have  seen  May  be 
the  devil."  He  has,  therefore,  waited  for  additional 
evidence : 

"I'll  have  grounds 

More  relative  than  this.     The  play's  the  thing 
Wherein  I'll  catch  the  conscience  of  the  king." 

(II.  ii.  579-581.) 

Hamlet's  Advice  to  the  Players. 

In  order  that  his  schemes  may  not  miscarry,  Hamlet 
coaches  the  players  very  carefully  until  he  gets  them 
in  condition  to  render  his  play  in  a  fitting  manner  be- 
fore the  king.  He  first  instructs  them  in  enunciation, 
telling  them  to  "Speak  the  speech,  I  pray  you,  as 
I  pronounced  it  to  you,  trippingly  on  the  tongue." 


Hamlet  97 

(III.  ii.  1-2.)  Then  he  warns  them  against  violent  ges- 
ticulations, saying,  "Nor  do  not  saw  the  air  too  much 
with  your  hands,  thus;  but  use  all  gently."  (4-5.)  He 
exhorts  them  to  temperance  in  the  expression  of  pas- 
sion, without,  however,  falling  short  of  due  intensity, 
urging,  "Be  not  too  tame  neither,  but  .  .  .  suit  the 
action  to  the  word,  the  word  to  the  action;  with  this 
special  observance:  that  you  o'erstep  not  the  modesty 
of  nature."  (15-18.)  He  reminds  them  that  the  one 
rule  of  acting  is  "to  hold,  as  'twere,  the  mirror  up  to 
nature."  (20-1.)  The  purpose  of  it  all  is,  he  says, 
"to  show  virtue  her  own  feature,  scorn  her  own  image, 
and  the  very  age  and  body  of  the  time  his  form  and 
pressure."  (21-3).  He  closes  his  advice  by  words 
meant  to  restrain  the  activities  of  the  clowns,  and  keep 
them  in  their  proper  places. 

This  advice  to  the  players  shows  the  high  artistic, 
ideals  Hamlet,  and  Shakespeare,  entertained  for  the 
drama.  It  is  to  retain  its  previous  high  character,  and 
is  not  to  be  a  mere  form  of  amusement  either  for  the 
groundlings  or  the  better  class.  It  is  to  keep,  too,  a 
very  distinct  ethical  function,  and  to  serve  as  a  means 
of  instructing  the  people  in  morals.  Acting  is  to  be 
sincere,  and  the  methods  of  the  drama  at  once  realistic 
and  idealistic.  The  times  should  be  mirrored  on  the 
stage,  and  yet  the  whole  spirit  should  be  that  of  high 
moral  idealism.  No  reference  is  made  to  the  dramatic 
controversies  of  the  day,  but  the  entire  purport  of  the 
advice  implies  that  the  dramatist  has  in  mind  the 
romantic  drama,  with  its  union  of  comedy  and  tragedy, 
and  with  its-indifference  to  all  "unities"  except  that 
of  action.  Kjhe  liable  words  of  the  advice  indicate 
further  the  dramatist's  intention  to  endow  Hamlet  with 
the  highest  intellectual  and  moral  character. 


98  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

The  Play— "The  Mouse-trap" 

The  success  of  Hamlet's  little  play  before  the  king 
exceeded  his  wildest  expectations.  Horatio  and  Ham- 
let carefully  watched  the  king,  while  seemingly  pre- 
occupied in  conversation  with  the  queen  and  Ophelia. 
The  sight  of  the  dumb-show  and  of  the  two  chief  actors 
as  king  and  queen  makes  the  king  uneasy,  lest  there 
should  be  some  offence  in  it.  But  Hamlet  assures  him, 
ironically,  that  "they  do  but  jest,  poison  in  jest;  no 
offence  i'  the  world."  When  asked  the  name  of  his 
play,  he  says  it  is  called,  figuratively,  The  Mouse-trap, 
and  then  gives  an  outline  of  the  argument.  The  play, 
however,  proves  the  undoing  of  the  king,  for  when  he 
witnesses  the  poisoning  he  can  endure  it  no  longer  and 
rises  and  goes  out.  His  guilt  is  now  manifest,  as  well 
as  the  innocence  of  the  queen.  She  sees  no  significance 
in  the  performance,  beyond  the  play  itself,  but  the  king 
is  caught  in  Hamlet's  mouse-trap. 

During  the  performance  of  the  play  Hamlet  reveals 
)y  his  excitement  the  great  strain  under  which  he  has 
been  living.  His  anxiety  to  entrap  the  king  and  to 
observe  the  least  trace  of  guilt  in  him  as  the  player 
king  is  poisoned  leads  him  beyond  the  bounds  of  tact 
Lj?jL&AQEfiii0n. His'  eagerness  to  explain  the  play, 
and  to  assure  the  king  that  there  is  no  offence  in  it, 
together  with  his  comments  as  the  play  proceeds,  and 
especially  during  the  poisoning  scene,  must  have  con- 
vinced the  king  that  Hamlet  was  consciously  trying  to.^ 

»i>ni»n       i        -•— -• Minja  ••Umiim.rr yyr— I--— .-..-^a^.,- i   imlmM  I     <f<     ^' —*^  >^/ 

entrap,him.     But  so  excited  was  Hamlet  thatiLfpr  once^ 
he  failed^  ^Jffi.ctfulness.     From  this  time  the  king  was 
convinced  that  Hamlet  was  dangerous,  and  made  all 
haste  to  despatch  him  to  England. 

With  the  complete  and  unmistakable  proof  of  the 


Hamlet  99 


king's  guilt  afforded  by.  the  play,  Hamlet's  delight 
comes  uncontrollable.  ^Ie  breaks  into  popular  diltiesj)  * 
as  soon  as  he  is  alone  with  Horatio,  and  is  so  well 
satisfied  that  he  exclaims  jubilantly,  "I'll  take  the 
ghost's  word  for  a  thousand  pound."  (III.  ii.  274-5.) 
All  doubt  is  now  removed,  and  he  is  prepared  to  enter 
actively  upon  his  task  of  revenge.  This  marks  another 
Hamlet  "transformation,"  and  from  this  time  he  shows 
a  more  merry  spirit,  as  Ophelia  observes  at  the  play. 
But  the  king  is  now  equally  alive  to  the  issue,  and 
IjLamlet  has  to  encounter  equally  active  opposition. 
Almost  smgfe-handed  ne  nas  to  challenge  the  king  with 
his  host  oi  Hirelings,  ana  with  ail  the  power  and  pre~ 
rogajjjves  of  a  ruler  at  his  command. 

There  has  been  a  good  deal  of  discussion  about  Ham- 
let's little  play.  It  is  apparent  from  Hamlet's  inten- 
tion of  adding  to  the  play  "a  speech  of  some  dozen 
or  sixteen  lines"  that  it  did  not  altogether  suffice  as  it 
stood.  Diligent  search  has  been  made  for  these  addi- 
tional lines  in  his  play  of  Gonzago,  but  they  have  not 
been  identified.  It  has  been  recently  suggested  that 
these  lines  cannot  be  identified,  because,  instead  of 
adding  to  the  play  he  had,  Hamlet  found  it  necessary 
to  write  an  entire  new  play  that  would  come  closer 
to  the  circumstances  of  his  father's  murder.  By  this 
means  he  was  able  to  depict  accurately  what  the  ghpst 
had  told,  and  make  a  certain  test  of  its  truth.  fThe 
entire  success  of  his  play  proved  beyond  doubt  that  the 
ghost  had  been  a  good  spirit  and  had  told  him  the 
truth.1 

*Cf.  Trench,  Shakespeare's  Hamlet,  a  New  Commentary,  pp. 
108-9,  117-124,  155-160,  and  Appendix  C,  pp.  260-6.  London: 
Smith,  Elder  &  Co.,  1913. 


100  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 


The  King  at  Prayer. 

Hamlet  has  now  obtained  corroboration  of  the 
ghost's  accusation  of  the  king.  He  is  no  longer  in 
any  doubt  about  it  himself.  His  reluctance  to  kill  the 
king  should  now  all  vanish,  if  he  were  waiting  only  for 
confirmation  of  the  king's  guilt.  The  Werder  theory, 
then,  finds  support  in  its  contention  that  he  has  still 
not  gained  all  the  evidence  he  requires,  for  even  this 
is  not  objective  evidence  and  would  not  satisfy  public 
opinion.  The  evidence  he  has  obtained  serves  to  con- 
vince him  and  Horatio,  but  would  not  be  accepted  as 
conclusive  in  a  court  of  law  or  before  the  public.  Ham- 
let, however,  has  lost  all  his  moral  reluctance,  and 
henceforth  is  ready  to  revenge  his  father  when  the  op- 
portunity comes. 

The  play  has  served  to  prick  the  king's  conscience, 
and  in  his  soliloquy  now  for  the  first  time  he  acknowl- 
edges his  guilt,  and  displays  considerable  remorse: 

"Oh,  my^offence  is  rank,  it  smells  to  heaven; 
It  hath  the""p*inial  eldest  curse  upon  't, 
A   brother's   murctetj" 

(III.  iii.  36-38.) 

A     .    . 

But  he  cannot  pray,  for  he  is  noF  willing  to  acknowl- 
edge his  crime :  "May  one  be  pardon'd  and  retain  the 
offence?"  .  Yet  he  is  constrained  to  kneel,  thinking 
there  may  be  some  virtue  in  that  act,  hoping  he  may 
be  led  to  repentance  and  confession.  This  is  the  point 
to  which  Hamlet  apparently  wanted  to  lead  him,  but 
he  does  not  repent  and  cannot  pray.  Never  again 
does  he  come  so  near  to  the  throne  of  grace,  but  he 
passes  on  unforgiven. 


Hamlet  101 

To  find  the  king  thus  alone  seemed  also  to  be  Ham- 
let's long-looked-for  opportunity.  But  once  more  he 
withholds  his  dagger,  and  instead  falls  into  his  habit  of 
philosophy.  He  recognizes  that  he  has  his  chance, 
saying : 

"Now  might  I  do  it  pat,  now  he  is  praying; 
And  now  I'll  do't;  and  so  he  goes  to  heaven; 
And  so  am  I  revenged." 

(III.  iii.  73-5.) 

But  for  some  reason  the  conditions  do  not  suit  him,  and 
he  refrains,  saying,  "this  is  hire  and  salary,  not  re- 
venge." He  thinks  the  king  would  go  to  heaven  from 
his  prayers,  and  so  he  prefers  to  kill  him  some  time 
when  he  finds  him  drunk  or  in  some  other  sin,  "that  his 
soul  may  be  as  damn'd  and  black  As  hell,  whereto  it 
goes.'^ 

This,  however,  has  seemed  to  most  critics  entirely 
out  of  accord  with  the  acknowledged  moral  character 
of  Hamlet.  It  seems  brutal  and  barbaric,  not  human 
or  Christian.  It  has,  therefore,  been  suggested  that 
this  passage  is  not  Shakespeare's,  but  a  relic  of  the 
old  play  that  Shakespeare  has  failed  to  work  out  of 
his  play,  or  has  for  some  unaccountable  reason  over- 
looked. Others  suggest  that  it  is  only  another  excuse 
Hamlet  makes  to  himself  for  further  procrastination, 
and  is  intended  to  deceive  no  one  but  himself.  Richard- 
son suggests  that  he  merely  offers  this  motive  as  "one 
better  suited  to  the  opinions  of  the  multitude,"  and 
that  he  was  withheld  "by  the  scruples,  and  perhaps 
weakness,  of  extreme  sensibility."  But  none  of  these 
seem  adequate  explanations,  for  they  are  too  con- 
jectural, and  have  too  little  basis  in  the  play  itself. 

The  words  of  the  play  leave  it  by  no  means  certain 

1  Essays   on  Some  of  Shakespeare's   Dramatic  Characters,   5th 
edition,  1798,  p.  133. 


102  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

that  Hamlet,  wants  to  see  the  king  consigned  to  eternal 
damnation  for  the  murder.  It  needs  to  be  recalled 
that  in  the  teachings  of  the  church  and  in  the  popular 
thought  hell  was  but  the  place  of  the  dead,  and  might 
mean  either  perdition  or  purgatory.  It  is  more  than 
likely,  therefore,  that  Hamlet  desired  only  that  the 
king's  soul  might  go  to  purgatory  and  not  to  heaven. 
He  wanted  him  not  to  go  to  perdition,  but  to  the  place 
of  purification,  for  he  was  altogether  unfit  for  heaven. 
This  conception  is  borne  out  by  the  German  play, 
where  "hell"  undoubtedly  means  only  purgatory. 
Hamlet  there  says  when  he  kills  the  king:  "But  this 
tyrant,  I  hope  he  may  wash  off  his  black  sins  in  hell."  l 
It  may  be  an  expression  of  the  same  idea  in  Marlowe's 
Faustus,  where  Benvolio  says  as  he  stabs  Faustus: 
"Hell  take  thy  soul."  2 

There  is  a  further  reason  for  Hamlet's  self-restraint. 
It  is  likely  that  Hamlet  regarded  the  king's  prayer  as 
giving  him  the  right  of  "sanctuary,"  which  Hamlet 
as  a  pious  man  would  not  violate.  The  stage  directions 
in  Shakespeare  are  very  meagre,  and  say  only  that  the 
king  "Retires  and  kneels."  There  is  no  reference  to 
any  altar  or  chapel,  as  if  the  king  had  entered  the 
temple  to  pray.  But  the  German  play  has  fuller 
stage  directions,  and  under  Act  III.,  Scene  L,  in  which 
the  account  of  this  incident  is  given,  there  are  the  direc- 
tions :  "Here  is  presented  an  Altar  in  a  Temple."  At 
the  close  of  his  self-accusation  the  directions  are :  "The 
King  kneels  before  the  altar."  3 

Here,  then,  is  probably  the  true  explanation.  Ham- 
let does  not  want  to  violate  the  sanctuary  in  killing  the 

*Eng.  trans,  in  Furness,  II,  p.  142. 

a  Marlowe's  Doctor  Faustus,  Temple  edition,  Scene  XIII,  41. 

*  Eng.  trans,  in  Furness,  II,  p.  132. 


Hamlet  103 

king,  and  thus  bring  sin  upon  himself.  And  he  does 
not  want  the  king  to  go  straight  to  heaven,  as  he  might 
if  killed  at  his  prayers.  Hamlet  wants  to  make  sure 
that  ne  will  go  to  purgatory,  where  he  will  be  punished 
for  his  crime,  but  where  also,  as  the  German  play  says, 
"he  may  wash  off  his  black  sins  in  hell." 

This  desire  not  to  desecrate  the  holy  altar  is  in 
perfect  keeping  with  the  moral  and  pious  spirit  of 
Hamlet.  To  revenge  his  father's  murder  is  a  filial 
duty  to  which  he  is  ready  to  sacrifice  his  own  life.  But 
he  is  not  to  taint  his  own  mind  by  doing  a  greater 
wrong.  He  will,  therefore,  not  commit  an  impiety  even 
in  the  discharge  of  so  solemn  a  duty. 

In  contrast  with  this  nobleness,  however,  stand  the 
king  and  Laertes.  When  the  king  has  incited  Laertes 

; against  Hamlet,  he  feels  so  vengeful  that  he  says  he 
is  even  ready  "To  cut  his  throat  i'  the  church."  The 
king  instantly  agrees  with  this  infamy,  by  saying: 

"No  place  indeed  should  murder  sanctuarize; 
Revenge  should  have  no  bounds." 

(IV.  vii.  128-9.) 

Hamlet  and  His  Mother. 

Before  sending  Hamlet  to  England  one  more  attempt 
is  made  to  solve  the  mystery  of  his  strange  behavior. 
He  is  now  recognized  as  a  troublesome  and  dangerous 
character,  and  the  king  sees  in  him  a  direct  challenge 
to  his  own  position.  With  the  failure  of  the  king  and 
his  spies  to  bring  Hamlet  to  time,  Polonius  arranges 
that  he  shall  be  interviewed  by  his  mother.  The  old 
steward  tells  the  queen  to  use  her  influence  with,  him, 
and  advises  her  to  "lay  home  to  him,"  and  to  "Tell 
him  his  pranks  have  been  too  broad  to  bear  with."  (III. 
iv.  1-2.) 


104  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prmce 

IFrom  the  beginning,  however,  it  is  the  queen  who  is 
interviewed  by  Hamlet.  His  finer  moral  sense  has  been 
shocked  by  his  mother's  conduct,  and  he  takes  her  to 
task  with  as  much  severity  as  becomes  a  son.  In  his 
remonstrance  against  her  marriage  with  the  king  he 
"speaks  daggers  but  uses  none."  His  powerful 
spirit  upbraids  and  convicts  her  of  her  sins,  and  she 
tries  to  escape  from  him.  But  his  strong  will  compels 
her  to  listen,  and  he  says : 

"Come,  come,  and  sit  you  down;  you  shall  not  budge; 
You  go  not  till  I  set  you  up  a  glass 
Where  you  may  see  the  inmost  part  of  you."  [ 

(III.  iv.  ri-20) 

In  the  heat  of  the  conference  he  discovers  some  one 
eavesdropping,  and  thinking  it  the  king,  makes  a  pass 
through  the  arras,  only  to  find  he  has  killed  old  Polo- 
nius.  The  old  man  has  at  last  suffered  the  penalty  of 
his  intrigue  and  of  his  devotion  to  the  king's  nefarious 
schemes.  It  was  no  part  of  Hamlet's  plan,  however, 
and  he  afterwards  grieved  bitterly  at  the  fatal  mistake 
of  his  impetuosity.  But  the  provocation  was  very 
great,  and  for  the  moment  his  hand  got  the  better  of 
his  judgment.  It  would  have  been  equally  a  mistake, 
however,  had  it  been  as  he  thought  the  king.  The  time 
was  not  yet  ripe  for  the  execution  of  the  king,  as  he 
had  not  yet  secured  the  objective  evidence.  But  he  was 
morally  certain  of  the  king's  guilt  and  could  not  stay 
his  hand. 

During  his  interview  with  his  mother  the  ghost  ap- 
pears to  Hamlet  for  the  last  time.  He  has  been  delay- 
ing, and,  it  seems  to  the  ghost,  neglecting  his  task  of 
revenge.  He  comes,  therefore,  as  he  says,  "to  whet 
thy  almost  blunted  purpose."  Though  tardy,  Hamlet 
has  not  forgotten  his  duty.  He  has  only  held  back 


Hamlet  105 

for  the  time  to  be  ripe,  and  to  gain  the  necessary  evi- 
dence. He  has  been  trying  to  obey  all  the  injunctions 
of  the  ghost,  and  has  been  endeavoring  to  carry  out 
the  revenge  without  tainting  his  own  mind  or  harming 
his  mother.  There  is  now  some  evidence  that  his 
mother's  interests  and  his  consideration  for  her  have 
done  much  to  restrain  him. 

The  ghost  is  manifestly  invisible  to  the  queen,  and 
she  regards  Hamlet  as  mad  when  he  addresses  the 
apparition.  She  sees  him  bend  his  "eye  on  vacancy," 
and  thinks  him  in  some  grave  distemper.  Bewildered 
to  see  him  looking  into  what  is  to  her  only  empty  space, 
and  yet  apparently  seeing  some  object,  she  asks  him, 
"Whereon^o  you  look?"  and  Hamlet  replies,  "On  him, 
on  him."  /  Looking  upon  the  pitiful  ghost  of  his  father 
deeply  stirs  the  spirit  of  Hamlet,  and  makes  him  equal 
to  the  great  revenge.  But  turning  once  more  to  his 
mother  he  finds  her  looking  piteously  on  him  instead 
of  the  ghost,  and  apparently  thinking  him  distracted. 
The  sight  of  the  distressed  look  of  his  mother,  and 
the  thought  of  the  ghost's  command  not  to  harm  her, 
once  more  take  from  him  his  strong  resolve,  and  he 
feels  more  like  weeping  for  his  mother  than  revenging 
his  father.  His  love  for  his  mother  and  his  desire  to 
save  her  take  the  sternness  out  of  his  resolve,  and  he 
is  more  disposed  to  shed  tears  than  blood.  He,  there- 
fore, begs  her: 

"Do  not  look  upon  me, 
Lest  with  this  piteous  action  you  convert 
My  stern  effects;  then  what  I  have  to  do 
Will  want  true  color !  tears  perchance  for  blood."  * 

(III.  iv.  127-130.) 

It  is  important,  therefore,  to  notice  that  Hamlet's  love 
for  his  mother  and  concern  for  her  honor,  together  with 
1  Cf.  Note  C,  pp.  295-8,  infra. 


106  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

the  injunction  of  the  ghost,  acted  as  a  great  restraint 
upon  his  pursuit  of  revenge.  There  was  great  danger 
that  in  striking  the  king  he  should  also  strike  his 
mother.  And  his  hand  was  therefore  stayed  till  he 
could  find  an  opportunity  to  strike  without  harming 
her.  ( 

In  respect  to  his  mother,  Hamlet's  desire  was  that 
she  should  cut  herself  loose  from  the  king.  His  moral 
nature  is  shown  in  his  desire  to  have  her  quit  the  dis- 
honorable relationship  with  the  king,  and  live  a  virtuous 
life.  The  whole  purport  of  his  interview  with  her  was 
to  rouse  her  to  a  recognition  of  the  immorality  of  her 
present  life.  The  visit  of  the  ghost  offers  the  occa- 
sion for  speaking  even  more  plainly  to  her,  and  he 
beseeches  her: 

"Confess  yourself  to  heaven; 
Repent  what's  past,  avoid  what  is  to  come." 
(III.  iv.  149-150.) 

• 
But  the  queen  was  obdurate.     She  could  be  made  to 

see  "black  and  grained  spots"  upon  her  soul,  but  she 
would  not  relinquish  her  evil  life.  Hamlet's  words  might 
cleave  her  heart  in  twain,  but  she  would  not  take  his 
advice  to 

"throw  away  the  worser  part  of  it, 
And  live  the  purer  with  the  other  half." 
(III.  iv.  157-8.) 


All  he  could  do,  then,  was  to  warn  his  mother,  on  peril 
of  breaking  her  own  neck,  not  to  tell  the  king  that  he 
is  only  "mad  in  craft." 

Then  he  recalls  to  her  that  he  is  to  be  sent  to  Eng- 
land, in  charge  of  his  old  school- fellows,  Rosencrantz 


Hamlet  107 

and  Guildenstern,  and  he  ventures  the  prophecy  that 
these  false  friends  will  be  "hoist  by  their  own  petar." 
Hamlet  seems  fully  aware  of  his  own  superior  ability 
of  mind,  and  believes  that  even  with  adverse  circum- 
stances he  can  still  manage  to  turn  the  course  of  events 
to  his  own  advantage.  It  is  only  by  the  rapid  com- 
bination of  untoward  conditions  after  the  killing  of 
Polonius  that  he  is  finally  overthrown,  though  even 
then  he  wins  the  moral  victory. 

Though  Hamlet  has  not  been  able  to  persuade  his 
mother  to  give  up  her  sinful  life,  she,  nevertheless,  re- 
tains her  love  for  her  son.  A  side  glimpse  of  her  is 
given  in  the  next  scene  in  which  she  displays  consider- 
able excellence  of  character,  and  love  for  Hamlet.  The 
king  finds  her  where  Hamlet  had  just  left  her  after 
the  interview,  and  he  asks,  "Where  is  your  son?"  She 
is  obliged  to  make  known  the  death  of  Polonius,  but 
she  tries  to  shield  Hamlet  from  her  husband  by  urging 
that  he  is  "mad  as  the  sea  and  wind,"  and  that  he  had 
killed  Polonius  by  mistaking  him  for  a  rat  behind  the 
arras.  Guarding  the  secret  of  his  feigned  madness, 
she  further  pleads  for  him  by  saying  that  now  "He 
weeps  for  what  is  done."  (IV.  i.  27.)  Her  evasions, 
however,  do  not  save  her  son  from  the  ever-deepening 
suspicions  of  the  king,  who  now  calls  him  "dangerous," 
and  finds  a  better  excuse  to  banish  him. 

Hamlet's  Banishment. 

Very  gladly  would  the  king  dispatch  Hamlet  by  less 
subtle  means  than  he  had  used  to  dispatch  his  father. 
But  Hamlet's  great  popularity  forbids  the  king  at- 
tempting any  outer  violence.  He  is  forced  to  acknowl- 
edge that  the  people  love  Hamlet,  though  the  thought 
is  very  distasteful  to  him: 


108  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

"Yet  must  not  we  put  the  strong  law  on  him; 
He's  loved  of  the  distracted  multitude, 
Who  like  not  in  their  judgment,  but  their  eyes." 

(IV.  iii.  3-5.) 

The  king  now  sees  that  something  desperate  must 
be  done  with  Hamlet  or  he  will  fall  victim  to  him.  It 
is  very  apparent  that  he  at  any  rate  does  not  labor 
under  the  idea  that  Hamlet  is  incapable  of  action.  He 
is,  on  the  contrary,  so  fearful  of  his  ability  to  act  and 
to  act  quickly,  that  he  prepares  to  send  him  to  Eng- 
land at  once.  He  makes  the  excuse  that  it  is  for 
Hamlet's  own  safety,  and  announces  to  him: 

"Hamlet,  this  deed,  for  thine  especial  safety, 
.     .     .     .     .     .     must    send   thee   hence 

With  fiery  quickness." 

(IV.  iii.  39-42.) 

Hamlet  is,  therefore,  sent  at  once  to  England,  then 
a  tributary  country  to  Denmark.  Claudius  gives  orders 
to  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern  not  to  wait  till  the 
next  day,  but  to  take  him  at  once :  ^'Delay  it  not ;  I'll 
have  him  hence  to-night."  (IV.  iii.  54.)  The  king 
likewise  sends  orders  for  the  death  of  Hamlet,  and 
he  thinks  that  the  recollection  of  recent  chastisement 
by  Denmark  will  induce  the  king  of  England  to  execute 
his  orders.  Claudius  is  now  thoroughly  alarmed  at 
the  possible  danger  from  Hamlet,  and  therefore  orders 
the  king  of  England  to  put  him  to  immediate  death: 

"Do  it,  England; 

For  like  the  hectic  in  my  blood  he  rages, 
And  thou  must  cure  me;  till  I  know  'tis  done, 
Howe'er  my  haps,  my  joys  were  ne'er  begun." 

(IV.  iii.  64-67.) 

Fortinbras  Once  More. 

Just  before  the  embarkation,  the  presence  of  Fortin- 
bras hovers  once  more  over  the  stage,  apparently  as  a 


Hamlet  109 

temptation  and  suggestion  to  Hamlet.  On  this  occa- 
sion he  is  using  his  license  from  Claudius  to  march 
across  Denmark  on  his  way  to  Poland.  He  had  sent 
this  message  to  Claudius,  by  one  of  his  captains : 

"Go,  captain,  from  me  greet  the  Danish  king; 
Tell  him  that  by  his  license  Fortinbras 
Claims  the  conveyance  of  a  promised  march 
Over  his  kingdom." 

(IV.  iv.  1-4.) 

The  king  had  succeeded  in  warding  off  the  imminent 
attack  of  Fortinbras  upon  Denmark  at  the  opening 
of  the  play  by  a  direct,  but  humiliating,  appeal  to  the 
old  uncle  of  the  prince.  At  that  time  the  ambassadors 
from  Claudius  to  the  old  king  of  Norway  brought  back 
the  very  welcome  word  that  Fortinbras  had  been 
restrained  from  his  intended  revolt  and  invasion  of 
Denmark.  The  interpretation  of  the  matter  offered 
by  Horatio  in  the  first  scene  of  the  play  was  confirmed 
by  the  report  of  the  ambassadors.  The  old  king 
had  been  led  to  believe  that  Fortinbras  intended  his 
army  for  a  campaign  "against  the  Polack,"  but  was 
grieved  to  find  that  it  was  really  against  Denmark. 
Wherefore,  he  had  suppressed  his  nephew's  levies,  and 
rebuked  the  young  man,  who  now 

"Makes  vow  before  his  uncle  never  more 
To   give  the  assay  of  arms   against  your  majesty." 

(II.  ii.  70-1.) 

At  this  the  king  of  Norway  was  much  pleased,  and  gave 
Fortinbras 

"commission  to  employ  those  soldiers, 
So  levied  as  before,  against  the  Polack;" 

(II.  ii.  74-5.) 


110  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

and  requests  Claudius, 

"That  it  might  please  you  to  give  quiet  pass 
Through  your  dominions  for  this  enterprise." 

(II.  ii.  7T-8.) 

Fortinbras,  therefore,  in  prosecuting  his  march  through 
Danish  territory  against  the  Polack  is  only  availing 
himself  of  a  privilege  previously  granted  by  Claudius. 

The  juncture  of  Fortinbras's  march  across  Denmark 
with  Hamlet's  banishment  to  England  was  no  doubt 
intended  by  the  dramatist  as  an  opportunity  for 
Hamlet,  had  he  been  so  minded.  It  is  very  likely  that 
had  Hamlet  seized  the  occasion  he  could  have  enlisted 
Fortinbras  in  a  common  attack  on  Claudius.  The 
ease  with  which  Laertes  later  raised  a  rebellion  against 
the  king  would  suggest  that  one  with  Hamlet's  popu- 
larity and  the  prestige  of  his  princely  character  could 
very  readily  have  raised  an  army  to  join  with  Fortin- 
bras. Hamlet  could  well  afford  to  promise  Fortinbras 
the  return  of  his  forfeited  lands  when  they  had  jointly 
deposed  Claudius.  But  all  this  temptation  Hamlet 
steadfastly  resists. 

Instead  of  making  common  cause  with  Fortinbras, 
Hamlet  steadfastly  maintains  his  way  of  peace.  The 
readiness  of  Fortinbras  for  war  stands  in  very  striking 
contrast  to  the  peaceable  ways  of  Hamlet,  and  is  doubt- 
less intended  by  the  dramatist  to  bring  out  Hamlet's 
character.  Shakespeare  was  a  hater  of  war  and  a 
lover  of  peace,  and  he  therefore  portrays  in  his  great- 
est character  the  heroism  of  peace.  But  the  coming 
of  Fortinbras  was  surely  meant  as  Hamlet's  tempta- 
tion. He  declines,  however,  to  bring  about  a  civil  war, 
that  would  mean  the  sacrifice  of  many  innocent  persons 
and  the  rending  of  the  kingdom,  though  he  does  not  set 


Hamlet  111 

his  own  life  at  a  pin's  fee.  Hamlet,  however,  only  takes 
the  coming  as  an  inspiration  to  follow  up  more 
earnestly  his  own  appointed  task  of  revenging  his 
father's  murder.  If  Fortinbras,  for  so  trifling  a  cause, 
and  with  so  little  provocation,  could  lead  an  army  to 
Poland,  surely  he  in  his  own  great  and  just  cause, 
should  be  more  active: 

"Oh,  from  this  time  forth, 

My  thoughts  be  bloody,  or  be  nothing  worth!" 

(IV.  iv.  65-6.) 

His  cause,  however,  is  peace,  not  war,  and  he  must 
revenge  the  murder  and  put  in  joint  the  broken  times 
without  doing  more  harm  than  he  is  charged  to  remedy. 
His  task  is  to  save  his  people,  not  to  destroy  them. 

Laertes  and  the  Kmg. 

Upon  his  return  from  Paris,  Laertes  learns  of  the 
death  of  his  father,  and  charging  it  against  the  king, 
raises  a  small  revolt  against  him,  and  enters  his  pres- 
ence to  work  his  revenge.  He  has  succeeded  in  gather- 
ing a  considerable  following  and  they  evince  their  faith 
in  him  by  asking  that  he  be  made  king.  The  attend- 
ant reports  to  Claudius  that  the  people  cry: 

"'Laertes  shall  be  king!' 

Caps,  hands,  and  tongues  applaud  it  to  the  clouds, 
'Laertes  shall  be  king,  Laertes  king!'" 

(IV.  v.  102-4.) 

The  king  has  some  trouble  in  pacifying  him,  and  ex- 
plains that  it  was  not  he  that  had  killed  his  father, 
saying,  "I  am  guiltless  of  your  father's  death." 
Laertes  is  finally  pacified  by  the  king's  avowal 
of  his  innocence,  and  by  his  suggestion  to  arbitrate 
their  differences. 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

Before  Laertes  can  fully  adjust  his  suspicions  of 
the  king,  he  is  all  but  distracted  at  seeing  his  sister 
enter,  singing  incoherent  songs  in  her  madness,  and  not 
even  recognizing  him.  The  sorrow  of  Ophelia's  disap- 
pointment has  borne  very  heavily  upon  her,  and  her 
mind  has  become  distracted.  The  poor,  weak,  inno- 
cent girl,  in  trying  to  be  a  dutiful  daughter  had  become 
an  untrustworthy  lover,  and  now  she  is  out  of  her  mind. 
Hamlet's  behavior  toward  her  was  doubtless  severe, 
but  anything  else  would  have  been  unjust.  Though 
disappointed  and  distracted,  her  suffering  is  lessened 
by  the  thought  that  it  is  her  lover  who  is  "Like  sweet 
bells  jangled  out  of  tune  and  harsh." 

Hamlet  and  Laertes. 

Meanwhile  Horatio  has  had  a  letter,  and  the  king 
a  note,  from  Hamlet,  saying  that  he  has  returned  to 
Denmark.  It  is  only  in  the  last  act  of  the  play, 
however,  that  we  learn  the  whole  story,  when  Hamlet 
finds  time  and  occasion  to  narrate  it  carefully  to  Hora- 
tio. It  seems  that  the  ship  conveying  him  to  England 
was  attacked  by  pirates,  and  that  in  the  fight  he 
boarded  them,  and  later  induced  them  to  set  him  ashore 
in  Denmark,  leaving  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern  to 
continue  their  voyage  to  England.  He  expects  that 
the  report  of  what  happened  to  them  will  soon  reach 
Denmark  and  cause  him  further  trouble  with  the  king; 
and  he  therefore  feels  the  necessity  of  great  haste  if 
he  is  to  forestall  the  king  and  carry  out  his  plans. 

With  the  return  of  Hamlet  to  Denmark,  Laertes 
soon  learns  that  it  was  Hamlet  and  not  the  king  who 
had  killed  his  father.  The  king  eagerly  seizes  the  op- 
portunity to  transfer  the  quarrel  to  Hamlet,  and  very 
skillfully  arranges  a  duel  between  the  two  to  settle  their 


Hamlet  113 

grievances.  If  it  be  the  duty  of  Hamlet  to  avenge  the 
death  of  his  father,  it  is  scarcely  less  the  duty  of 
Laertes  to  avenge  the  death  of  Polonius.  The  king 
whets  the  wrath  of  Laertes  by  telling  him  that  Hamlet 
is  very  dangerous,  for 

"he  which  hath  your  noble  father  slain 
Pursued  my  life." 

(IV.  vii.  4-5.) 

This  incenses  Laertes  the  more,  and  makes  him  very 
willing  to  attack  Hamlet.  He  accepts  with  eagerness 
the  king's  suggestion  of  a  duel  with  Hamlet,  and  like 
his  father  he  is  not  unwilling  to  use  foul  means.  The 
entire  Polonius  family  seem  not  to  be  above  treachery 
and  deceit. 


VI 

Hamlet's  Return. 

Hamlet's  return  at  the  time  of  Laertes's  little  revolt 
leaves  the  impression  that  Denmark  was  now  ripe  for  a 
rebellion.  If  we  are  to  take  the  words  of  the  king,  no 
one  in  the  kingdom  was  so  well  beloved  as  Hamlet,  and 
hence  no  one  so  likely  to  be  successful  in  rebellion.  But 
casting  aside  this  temptation,  he  presents  himself  first 
in  the  churchyard,  where  he  discourses  wisdom  to  Ho- 
ratio and  the  grave-diggers.  Possibly  he  went  there 
to  mourn  over  his  father's  grave,  and  to  sorrow  over 
that  of  Polonius,  for  he  is  in  the  vicinity  of  the  latter 
when  the  burial  party  arrives.  Hamlet  is  shocked  to 
find  himself  present  at  the  funeral  of  "the  fair  Ophelia," 
and  to  notice  that  they  are  burying  her  with  "maimed 
rites,"  because,  as  he  hears  the  priest  say,  "Her 
death  was  doubtful."  These  things  had  been  told  him 
by  the  grave-digger,  but  he  had  not  suspected  they 


114  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

referred  to  Ophelia.  When  the  body  is  lowered  into  the 
grave,  Laertes  in  the  ecstasy  of  his  grief  leaps  in  to 
express  his  lasting  love  for  his  sister.  Then  Hamlet, 
feeling  that  his  love  for  her  is  greater  than  that  of 
forty  thousand  brothers,  also  leaps  into  the  grave  to 
show  his  affection.  Laertes,  however,  has  been  in- 
censed against  Hamlet  by  the  king,  and,  not  taking  his 
act  as  friendly,  grapples  with  him.  The  quick  passion 
of  the  prince  responds,  and  the  two  have  to  be  sep- 
arated by  attendants.  For  this  impetuosity  Hamlet 
suffered  deeply,  as  he  afterwards  explains  to  Horatio, 
saying : 

"I  am  very  sorry,  good  Horatio, 

That  to  Laertes  I  forgot  myself;  .  .  . 

But,  sure,  the  bravery  of  his  grief  did  put  me 

Into  a  towering  passion." 

(V.  ii.  75-80.) 

He  evidently  bore  no  ill-will  to  Laertes,  and  still  loved 
Ophelia.  But  the  incident  shows  his  tremendous  capa- 
bilities of  instant  action,  and  goes  to  disprove  any 
theory  that  assumes  in  him  any  weakness,  mental  or 
volitional. 

The  Duel — Hamlet  and  Laertes. 

When  they  met  for  the  duel,  Hamlet  made  haste  to 
assure  Laertes  of  his  love  and  good-will  by  offering 
ample  apology  for  his  impetuosity  at  the  grave  of 
Ophelia.  His  first  words  were  an  apology,  probably 
not  only  for  his  behavior  at  Ophelia's  grave,  but  also 
for  his  part  in  her  death  and  in  that  of  Polonius: 

"Give  me  your  pardon,  sir;  I've  done  you  wrong; 
But  pardon't,  as  you  are  a  gentleman." 

(V.  ii.  213-4.) 

Then  he  explains  that  he  was  suffering  from  much  dis- 
traction, and  that  if  he  had  wronged  Laertes  he  could 


Hamlet  115 

not  have  been  in  his  proper  senses,  and  disclaims  any 
purposed  evil.  He  then  begs  him  in  the  most  cordial 
manner  to 

"Free  me  so  far  in  your  most  generous  thoughts, 
That  I  have  shot  mine  arrow  o'er  the  house, 
And  hurt  my  brother." 

(V.  ii.  229-231.) 

Laertes,  however,  refuses  all  reconcilement,  and  the 
incident  but  adds  fuel  to  his  burning  wrath.  He  has 
been  so  misled  and  incited  by  the  king  whose  perfidy 
had  suggested  the  duel  that  he  will  accept  no  explana- 
tion. He  gives  further  evidence  of  baseness  and  treach- 
ery in  his  willingness  to  accept  the  king's  suggestion  of 
poisoning  his  sword.  (IV.  vii.  135-140.)  But  the 
fates  are  against  Hamlet.  His  "towering  passion," 
growing  out  of  the  very  intensity  of  his  purpose,  has 
twice  led  him  into  mistakes,  and  both  times  with  the 
Polonius  family, — first  with  the  father,  and  next  with 
the  son. 

Though  morally  justified  in  both  cases,  Hamlet 
scarcely  excused  himself,  for  he  had  no  will  to  perform 
the  part  of  the  "scourge  and  minister"  of  heaven. 
Hamlet,  however,  does  not  have  to  wait  long  for  his 
vindication.  When  in  the  duel  both  contestants  are 
mortally  wounded  by  the  poisoned  rapiers,  Laertes  at 
once  admits  his  guilt,  and  cries  out:  "I  am  justly 
kilPd  with  mine  own  treachery."  (V.  ii.  294.)  Then, 
with  his  dying  breath  he  reveals  the  king's  part  in  the 
treacherous  deed,  and  begs  piteously, 

"Exchange   forgiveness  with  me,  noble  Hamlet." 

(V.  ii.  316.) 

In  these  last  words  he  bears  full  testimony  to  the  purity 
and  unselfishness  of  Hamlet's  life,  and  absolves  him 
from  all  blame: 


116  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

"Mine  and  my  father's  death  come  not  upon  thee, 
Nor  thine  on  me!" 

(V.  ii.  317-8.) 

The  Unmasking  of  the  King. 

It  wflj^nrily  in  fh^  ^w]  *k*t,  tbj^^1f>^pr>  and  perfidious 
character  of  the  king. was  revealed,  and  his  diabolical 
stfrTemelf  fully  unmasked.  Laertes  was  the  first  after 
Hamlet  and  Horatio  to  recognize  the  real  character  of 
Claudius.  As  soon  as  he  is  wounded  by  Hamlet  with 
his  own  exchanged  rapier,  there  is  at  once  disclosed 
before  him  the  entire  course  of  events.  At  first  he 
blames  himself  for  his  part,  and  for  his  treachery,,  say- 
ing that  he  has  only  been  caught  in  his  own  trap,  and 
that  he  is  "justly  kill'd."  Then  as  soon  as  it  is  appar- 
ent by  the  death  of  the  queen  from  drinking  the  wine, 
he  is  doubly  sure  of  the  king's  guilt  for  the  whole  affair, 
and  says  boldly,  "the  king's  to  blame."  When  the 
king  dies,  Laertes  realizes  it  as  a  just  punishment 

and  says: 

"He  is  justly  served; 
It  is  a  poison  temper'd  by  himself." 
(V.  ii.  314-5.) 

The  cry  of  treason  raised  by  the  attendants  when 
Hamlet  stabs  the  king  is  at  once  silenced  by  the  words 
of  Laertes  justifying  Hamlet's  course.  Not  another 
word  is  uttered  in  the  remainder  of  the  play  in  the 
king's  behalf.  It  took  only  a  word  from  Laertes  to 
unmask  the  character  of  Claudius,  and  to  put  his  at- 
tendants and  followers  to  complete  silence.  There 
seems  to  be  no  one  left  who  has  a  good  word  to  say  on 
his  behalf,  and  the  treachery  and  perfidy  of  his  life 
are  fully  accepted. 

Nevertheless,  there  has  been  revealed  no  objective 
proof  of  the  king's  guilt  for  the  murder  of  his  brother. 


Hamlet  117 

Hamlet  has  long  been  convinced  of  the  truth  of  the 
ghost's  words,  though  he  has  not  secured  any  evidence 
except  that  from  the  ghost  and  from  the  undoubted 
certainty  of  the  moral  baseness  of  Claudius  as  revealed 
chiefly  in  his  arrangement  and  management  of  the 
duel  with  Laertes.  The  cups  of  poisoned  wine,  intended 
for  Hamlet,  one  of  which  caused  the  death  of  the  queen, 
were  evidence  enough  of  his  unscrupulous  nature.  His 
corrupt  and  immoral  character  was  proven  beyond  any 
doubt,  though  with  his  death  he  carried  away  all  traces 
of  the  objective  evidence  that  Hamlet  had  wanted  for 
the  murder  of  his  father.  The  death  that  seized  him 
was  accepted  as  a  just  retribution  for  his  crimes,  and 
for  the  baseness  of  his  character,  and  he  died  under 
the  unanimous  condemnation  of  all  the  persons  of  the 
drama. 

Hamlet's  Purposes — Horatio. 

The  life  task  of  Hamlet,  imposed  on  him  by  the  ghost, 
is  fulfilled  even  in  his  death.  The  death  of  the  king 
leaves  him  with  only  one  dying  wish,  that  his  purposes 
may  be  explained  to  the  people,  lest  he  should  be  left 

with 

"a  wounded  name, 
Things  standing  thus  unknown." 

(V.  ii.  331-2.) 

This  dying  request,  then,  he  leaves  with  his  one  tried 
and  true  friend,  Horatio,  begging  him  to  show  the  peo- 
ple the  reason  of  his  conduct: 

1  "report  me  and  my  cause  aright 
To  the  unsatisfied." 

(V.  ii.  326-7.) 

Horatio,  however,  is  unwilling  to  live  after  Hamlet 
has  died,  and,  saying  he  is  more  like  an  antique  Roman 


118  Hamlet ,  an  Ideal  Prince 

than  a  Dane,  he  tries  to  drink  the  poisoned  wine.  His 
friendship  for  Hamlet  is  so  strong  that  he  wants  to 
die  with  him.  But  Hamlet  seizes  the  cup,  and  restrains 
him,  begging  him  to  live  and  devote  his  life  to  a  vindi- 
cation of  Hamlet's  course.  With  the  earnestness  born 
of  a  conviction  that  his  cause  was  just,  and  his  devotion 
to  his  task  unselfish,  he  beseeches  Horatio: 

"If  thou  didst  ever  hold  me  in  thy  heart, 
Absent  thee  from  felicity  awhile, 
And  in  this  harsh  world  draw  thy  breath  in  pain, 
To  tell  my  story." 

(V.  ii.  333-6.) 

The  friendship  of  Hamlet  and  Horatio  is  one  of  the 
finest  in  literature.  Without  fully  understanding  his 
plans  until  afterward,  Horatio  trusted  Hamlet  and  was 
true  to  him.  He  seemed  to  understand  him  when  no 
one  else  did.  He  was  his  true  friend  in  life  and  in 
death,  and  after  he  is  gone  he  speaks  on  behalf  of  his 
fair  name.  Horatio  had  the  fine  moral  character  to 
appreciate  the  noble  purposes  and  splendid  life  of 
Hamlet,  devoted  as  it  was  to  his  filial  and  patriotic 
duty,  and  whose  life  purposes  needed  only  to  be  known 
to  be  approved.  Horatio  accepts  the  task  of  reporting 
him  aright,  and  disclosing  the  secrets  that  could  only 
be  revealed  after  his  death.  As  Hamlet  breathes  his 
last,  he  corroborates  his  words,  and  bears  eloquent  tes- 
timony to  the  uprightness  and  nobility  of  his  friend: 

"Now  cracks  a  noble  heart. — Good  night,  sweet  prince, 
And  flights  of  angels  sing  thee  to  thy  rest!" 

(V.  ii.  346-7.) 

Fortmbras  as  Next  King. 

Hamlet  lived  and  died  solely  for  Denmark.  He  did 
not  regard  his  own  life,  but  always  thought  of  the 


Hamlet  119 

good  of  his  country.  As  he  is  pleading  with  Horatio 
to  explain  his  cause  to  the  people,  the  announcement 
is  made  of  the  approach  of  young  Fortinbras  on  his 
return  from  Poland.  Once  more,  then,  and  as  the  last 
actor  in  the  drama,  this  young  warrior  is  brought  upon 
the  stage.  He  is  very  different  in  character  from  his 
cousin  Hamlet,  and  is  the  type  of  self-regarding  ambi- 
tion, who  is  willing  to  make  war  and  lose  thousands  of 
men  in  order  to  gain  territory  that  adds  to  him  nothing 
but  a  name.  He  is  not,  however,  of  the  criminal  type 
of  Claudius,  but  possesses  many  barbaric  virtues.  As  a 
cousin  of  Hamlet's,  though  much  less  excellent,  he  is 
now  the  nearest  to  the  throne  and  recognizes  some 
rights  in  the  kingdom. 

With  his  dying  words,  then,  Hamlet  speaks  on  behalf 
of  Fortinbras.  Apparently  he  wants  the  succession 
settled  that  the  country  may  go  forward  in  peace.  In 
order  to  secure  this,  then,  he  gives  his  voice  for  the 
election,  saying,  "I  do  prophesy  the  election  lights  On 
Fortinbras."  (V.  ii.  342-3.)  On  his  part  Fortinbras 
accepts  the  advantage  his  kinship  and  the  voice  of  Ham- 
let give  him,  saying,  "with  sorrow  I  embrace  my  for- 
tune." Horatio,  sharing  in  the  peaceable  spirit  of 
Hamlet,  and  fearing  a  possible  disturbance,  urges  the 
immediate  accession,  "lest  more  mischance,  On  plots 
and  errors  happen."  Fortinbras  then  accepts  the  king- 
dom, and  closes  the  play  by  pronouncing  a  brief  but 
noble  panegyric  over  the  body  of  Hamlet : 

"Let  four  captains 

Bear  Hamlet,  like  a  soldier,  to  the  stage; 
For  he  was  likely,  had  he  been  put  on, 
To  have  proved  most  royally;  and,  for  his  passage, 
The  soldiers'  music  and  the  rites  of  war 
Speak  loudly  for  him. — " 

(V.  ii.  382-7.) 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 


vn 

Hamlet,  a  Deliverer. 

The  success  that  has  attended  Hamlet's  efforts 
proves  him  to  be  a  deliverer  of  his  country,  as  in  the 
earlier  versions  of  Saxo  and  Belleforest.  He  has  rid 
his  country  of  the  corruption  and  criminality  of 
Claudius  without  instigating  a  civil  war,  or  causing 
the  death  of  any  innocent  person  but  himself.  He  has 
refrained  from  the  course  of  the  vindictive  Laertes 
of  stirring  up  an  internal  insurrection,  and  has  sacri- 
ficed only  himself  to  his  country's  welfare.  The  coun- 
try has  not  been  put  into  such  turmoil  and  revolution 
as  to  invite  an  attack  from  the  ambitious  Fortinbras. 
The  crown  of  Denmark  has  passed  peaceably  to  his 
royal  kinsman,  Fortinbras,  and  Denmark  goes  on  to- 
ward her  national  destiny. 

Hamlet  has^ triumphed,  therefore,  even  in  his  death. 
He  has  revenged  the  murder  of  hiis~father,  but  several 
other  persons  have  also  lost  their  lives.  This  he  very 
much  regretted,  for  he  tried  to  strike  only  the  king. 
He  has,  however,  accomplished  his  task  without  caus- 
ing war,  and  has  discharged  his  duty  both  to  his  parent 
and  to  his  country.  All  his  plans  have  been  realized, 
except  his  indifferent  desire  to  become  king,  which  he 
readily  sacrificed  to  his  larger  duty.  If  any  justifica- 
tion of  his  course  of  conduct  is  necessary,  this  will 
be  undertaken  by  Horatio.  Knowing  Hamlet's  con- 
cern for  his  good  name,  Horatio  says  he  will 

"speak  to  the  yet  unknowing  world 
How  these  things  came  about;  so  shall  you  hear 
Of  carnal,  bloody,  and  unnatural  acts, 
Of  accidental  judgments,  casual  slaughters, 
Of  deaths  put  on  by  cunning,  and  forced  cause, 


Hamlet 

And,  in  this  upshot,  purposes  mistook 

Fall'n  on  the  inventors'  heads.     All  this  can  I 

Truly  deliver." 

(V.  ii.  366-373.) 

The  death  of  Hamlet  marks  the  extinction  of  the 
direct  royal  line  of  Denmark.  Ulrici  suggests  that  this 
is  due  to  the  wrong  done  by  them  as  a  line.  Rather  is 
it  due  solely  to  the  crimes  of  Claudius,  and  but  for 
Hamlet  the  punishment  would  have  fallen  also  on  the 
state.  By  his  devotion  he  saved  the  state  from  being 
wrecked  by  his  uncle's  crimes,  but  in  the  very  nature 
of  things  he  could  not  save  either  himself  or  the  wrong- 
doer. The  over-ruling  Providence,  that  is  felt  every- 
where in  the  play,  is  manifest  not  in  the  extinction  of 
the  line  of  kings,  but  in  the  deliverance  from  one  great 
wrong-doer,  and  in  the  continuance  of  the  state  in 
peace,  though  in  the  hands  of  another  but  related 
king. 

The  Character  of  Hamlet. 

There  is  practical  unanimity  among  students  of  the 
play  that  Hamlet  is  the  most  intellectual  character  in 
the  entire  Shakespearean  drama.  Of  the  play  Rapp 
has  said  that  "Of  all  the  poet's  works,  and  indeed  of 
all  works  in  the  world,  Hamlet  appears  to  me  to  be  the 
richest  in  thought  and  the  profoundest."  1  Stedefeld 
says  of  the  prince  that  he  is  "an  intellectual  hero,  a 
Titan,  who  is  far  above  his  whole  surroundings,  rising 
thus  above  them  by  insight,  learning,  culture,  wisdom, 
and  knowledge  of  men  and  the  world."  2  No  other 
character  brings  such  a  wealth  of  intellect,  such  a  well- 
trained  mind,  such  profundity  of  thought  to  the  solu- 

1  Eng.  trans,  in  Furness,  II.,  p.  295. 

2  Ibid.,  p.  343. 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

tion  of  the  problem  which  the  course  of  life  and  of  the 
world  present  to  him.  He  is  in  every  way  a  deep 
scholar  and  a  philosopher;  and  the  unschooled  Shake- 
speare shows  his  abiding  respect  for  learning  in  making 
this  scholar  from  Wittenberg  the  brightest  mind 
among  all  the  brilliant  wits  of  his  stage. 

The  persons  of  the  drama  and  the  readers  of  the  play 
unite  in  proclaiming  Hamlet  also  a  most  noble  char- 
acter. The  difficulties  that  appear  in  the  interpreta- 
tion of  the  play  are  intellectual,  not  moral.  There  is 
difficulty  in  understanding  the  problem  presented  to 
his  mind,  but  there  is  practical  agreement  on  the  ex- 
cellence of  his  character.  Critics  have  vied  with  one 
another  to  praise  his  noble  personality.  Goethe  calls 
him  "a  beautiful,  pure,  and  most  moral  nature." 
Campbell  speaks  of  him  as  "so  ideal,  and  yet  so  real 
an  existence."  Stedefeld  says,  "Hamlet  is,  according 
to  the  intention  of  the  poet,  in  his  whole  bearing  a 
noble,  manly,  chivalrous  presence,  with  moral  and  re- 
ligious feeling."  Professor  Dowden  says  that  "One 
of  the  deepest  characteristics  of  Hamlet's  nature  is  a 
longing  for  sincerity,  for  truth  in  mind  and  manners, 
an  aversion  for  all  that  is  false,  affected,  or  exagger- 
ated." For  this  reason  the  play  is  sometimes  spoken 
of  as  "a  tragedy  of  moral  idealism."  But  it  Jsjajtrag- 
edy  that  is  at  the  same^time  a  triumpK7"~ 

HaniIeF~is"  Distinguished  among  the  characters  of 
Shakespeare  as  the  one  pre-eminent  for  taking  always 
the  moral  point  of  view.  To  all  the  other  characters 
of  the  play  he  appears  as  a  sort  of  moral-sense.  Look- 
ing into  his  noble  countenance  they  all  became  con- 
scious of  their  wrong-doings.  The  king  is  convicted 
of  his  crimes  by  the  very  presence  of  Hamlet.  Polonius 
sees  himself  as  a  crafty  trickster  and  moral  idiot.  The 


Hamlet 

queen  is  conscience-stricken  when  her  son  speaks  to 
her  and  exclaims : 

"Thou  turn'st  mine  eyes  into  my  very  soul, 
And  there  I  see  such  black  and  grained  spots 
As  will  not  leave  their  tinct.  J 

(III.  iv.  89-81.) 

There  are  no  persons  of  the  drama  but  realize  his 
excellence,  and  in  his  presence  are  conscious  of  his 
goodness.  It  is  he  that  brings  the  king  to  confess  in 
his  soliloquy  the  blackness  of  his  deed,  though  he  stifles 
his  conscience,  and  does  not  declare  his  crime.  And  at 
the  close  of  the  play,  all  who  survive  unite  in  praise 

of  his  nobility.    paftiTAfl/  bfrorfC  ><^ 

Justice  cannot  be  done  to  Hamlet  without  the  mention 
of  his  religious  spirit^  The  very  fact  that  he  has  an 
apparition  of  his  father's  spirit  reveals  a  belief  in  an- 
other world.  Hamlet  is^anjde^list,  and  explains  every- 
thing to  hims'eT?  in  terms  of  spirit.  It  is  by  a  visita- 
tion of  a  spirit  from  the  other  world  that  he  gets  his 
life  task,  according  to  which  he  governs  all  his  conduct. 
And  he  is  not  the  fatalist  Professor  Bradley  thinks 
he  is,  for  his  life  is  not  the  self-abandonment  that  ap- 
pears  in  his  theory.  He  is  quite  capable  of  taking 
"armsagainst  a  sea  of  troubles,"  and  still  thinks  that 
Providence  over-rules  our  plans  for  the  larger  good. 
It  Was  after  he  had  exerted  himself  most  strenuously 
in  the  direction  of  his  own  affairs  and  had  turned  his 
banishment  to  England  against  his  persecutors,  that 
he  says, 

"There's   a    divinity   that   shapes   our  ends, 
Rough-hew  them  how  we  will." 

(V.  ii.  10-11.) 

Hamlet  lived  his  entire  life  in  this  moral  and  reli- 
gious spirit.  All  the  qualities  he  admired  and  sought 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

were  qualities  of  mind  and  soul.  He  did  not  care  for 
place  or  distinction,  and  would  not  allow  his  com- 
panions to  call  themselves  his  servants,  but  insisted  on 
calling  them  friends.  He  hated  shams  and  pretences, 
and  loved  sincerity  and  honesty  of  character.  He  had 
no  false  notions  of  royal  dignity,  and  did  not  hesitate 
to  love  the  daughter  of  the  royal  steward.  He  did 
not  care  for  position,  and  had  no  laments  for  himself 
that  he  did  not  attain  to  the  crown.  He  revered  only 
moral  and  spiritual  qualities  in  men,  and  worshipped 
God  as  the  father  of  his  spirit.  He  made  the  best  of 
this  life,  and  believed  there  was  a  better  one  to  come. 
No  character  in  all  Shakespeare  is  so  much  an  idealist. 
In  the  sordid  conditions  of  his  times,  he  lived  entirely 
in  the  ideal  world,  and  at  the  last  sacrificed  his  life 
to  gain  an  ideal  end.  ^He  is  at  once  the  most  intel- 
lectual, the  most  moral,  the  most  truly  religious,  and 
at  the  same  time  the  most  heroic  character  in  Shake- 
speare. 


Ak» 


amlet,  an  Ideal  Prince. 

here  can  be  little  doubt  -that  Shakespeare  intended 
/    Hamlet  to  embody  his  ideal  of  the  noble  and  patriotic 
( — prince.     He  had  previously  depicted  from  English  his- 
^      tory  all  sorts  of  princes  and  kings,  and  had  found  a 
$  *    >noble  prince  in  Henry ^  the  Fj.ftb-     Both  Hamlet  and 
•V0  ^  /  "EfcBiTy-.  P-T  rlifitinffuished  by  their  lofty  and  intelligent 
^4  palrip.tism,  though  Hamlej  is  much  thejjmer  and  nobler 
V  Vcharjy^ex.  ^Henry  was  conscientious,  but  not  so  self- 
&    ..sacrificing.  \  He   was   noble,   but  not  distinguished   by 
h     ^  great   intelligence.     He   lacked   Hamlet'sl  intensity   of 
H^      moral  conviction  i  nd  his  profundity  of  mought.     The 
dramatist  could  fi  id  his  perfect  ideal  only  in  a  legen- 
|k  *      dary  character,  w  icre  his  own  imagination  could  work 

Sfe  „ 

\fr      fj4  , .  U- 


Hamlet  125 

upon  his  hero.  This  he  might  have  found  in  Arthur, 
but  he  preferred  to  take  a  story  already  dramatized 
and  picked  out  Hamlet,  Prince  of  Denmark. 

In  the  English  historical  plays  he  had  just  written 
the  dramatist  found  in  all,  with  one  exception,  the 
stories  of  base  ambition  and  vulgar  lust  for  power. 
He  had  just  concluded  his  studies  of  the  long  and 
bloody  struggle  between  Lancaster  and  York,  culmi- 
nating in  the  brutal  reign  of  Richard  the  Third,  his 
one  ideal  villain.  With  the  exception  of  Henry  the 
Fifth  these  rulers  were  ever  ready  at  any  time  to 
plunge  their  country  into  war,  and  to  keep  it  strug- 
gling for  generations  in  the  hope  of  realizing  their 
own  personal  ambitions.  They  had  never  considered 
their  country,  but  were  always  ready  for  civil  war 
or  foreign  war  if  there  was  any  chance  to  achieve 
their  own  glory. 

But  Hamlet  is  a  prince  of  another  sort.  As  in 
Saxo  and  Belleforest,  and  as  well  in  the  German  play, 
his  chief  thought  was  for  his  country.  He  would 
rather  ensure  the  ills  he  had  than  involve  his  country 
in  bloody  civil  strife,  or  invite  the  armed  intervention 
of  a  foreign  prince.  Though  his  uncle  Claudius  was 
izm  Tnfluericp 


corruptand  ^  demoralizmg  nfluericp  jn  t.hp  , 

seemed^t^jEnin^:  it'  would.  only  make  matters  worse  tol 

try  to  deThrone'  Kimnby  armed^JgJceT    He   therefore' 
" 


^ 

seeks  other""  means  "of  accomplishing  his  moraj  task, 
and  trusts  to  the  moral  character  of  fate  to  find  a 
way  to  avenge  his  father  and  deliver  his  country.  His 
moral  faith  did  not  in  the  end  miscarry,  and  he  lived 
to  see  the  murderer  and  tyrant  punished  and  his  own 
course  vindicated.  As  a  true  patriot  he  did  not  count 
his  own  life  at  a  pin's  fee  when  the  moral  fate  of  his 
country  was  at  stake.  He  was  satisfied  to  see  the 


126  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

xirown    pass    peaceably    to    the   head    of    one    no    less 

/worthy    than    his    kinsman    Fortinbras    of    Norway. 

/    Under  him  the  two  rival  nations  could  unite,  and  peace 

(      would  be  maintained. 

Vj     ^  - 

4*  d».   U. 


THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE: 

OR  SHAKESPEARE'S  CHRISTIAN  AND  JEW 


CHAPTER    III 
THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE: 


IT  is  becoming  quite  obvious  to  students  that  we 
have  been  in  danger  of  losing  Shakespeare  as  an 
Elizabethan  dramatist,  and  have  not  entirely  suc- 
ceeded in  making  him  a  modern  dramatist.  There  can 
be  no  doubt  that  succeeding  ages  have  developed  mean- 
ings for  many  of  the  plays  that  would  have  been  incon- 
ceivable for  an  Elizabethan  dramatist  and  unacceptable 
to  an  Elizabethan  audience.  The  interest  of  the  theatre 
has  tended  to  make  them  into  modern  plays,  and  scholar- 
ship has  been  unable  to  interpret  them  for  us  as  Eliza- 
bethan. But  one  benefit  of  the  Shakespeare  revival 
and  of  modern  scholarship  has  doubtless  been  a  more- 
adequate  conception  of  Elizabethan  conditions,  and 
hence  a  better  understanding  of  Shakespeare  as  a 
dramatist  of  his  own  age.  Shakespeare  no  doubt 
addressed  himself  to  his  own  times  and  presented  a 
message  to  his  contemporaries,  but  that  message  has  in 
many  cases  been  lost  to  our  age.  To  rediscover  that 
message  and  to  determine  its  value  for  us  is  a  worthy 
task  for  modern  scholarship. 

No  play,  perhaps,  more  than  The  Merchant  of 
Venice  has  been  subject  to  this  modernizing  spirit, 
for  its  dramatic  excellence  has  kept  it  almost  continu- 

129 


130  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

ously  on  the  stage.  Though  a  valuable  play  in  its 
modern  form,  it  is  important  that  we  should  not  lose 
its  original  significance.  In  its  present  rendering  the 
play  has  ceased  almost  completely  to  be  a  story  of 
Antonio,  the  Merchant  of  Venice,  and  has  become  the 
story  of  Shylock,  the  Jew  of  Venice,  and  the  misfor- 
tunes that  befell  him.  "In  this  way,"  as  Mr.  Poel  has 
said,  Shylock  "becomes  tragic,  and,  contrary  to  the 
dramatist's  intention,  is  made  the  leading  part." 
The  play  is,  then,  sadly  in  need  of  a  new  study,  and  of 
a  reconstruction  in  the  light  of  what  we  now  know  of 
the  Elizabethan  mind  and  conditions. 

The  criticism  of  the  play  has  from  the  first  re- 
volved about  the  person  and  character  of  Shylock, 
and  has  in  large  measure  been  determined  by  the  atti- 
tude of  each  age  toward  the  Jews.  Racial  and  re- 
ligious prejudices  have  taken  the  place  of  candid  study 
of  the  play,  and  Shakespeare  has  become  to  one  gen- 
eration  a  Jew-baiter  and  to  the  next  a  Jew-apologist. 
For  the  first  two  centuries  after  Shakespeare,  Shy- 
lock  was  universally  condemned  and  execrated,  and 
the  play  was  considered  a  keen  arraignment  of  the 
character  and  practices  of  the  Jewish  race.  With  the 
lapse  of  time,  however,  and  with  a  more  enlightened 
opinion  of  the  Jews,  people  began  to  see  in  the  play 
a  great  plea  for  the  persecuted  Jew,  and  a  condem- 
nation of  Christian  prejudice  and  malice.  Christians 
now  have  come  to  sympathize  with  Shylock,  and  Jews 
repudiate  him  as  a  representative  of  their  race. 
These  two  types  of  interpretation  now  exist  side  by 
side,  and  no  one  can  assure  us  of  the  real  meaning 
of  the  play.  May  it  not  be,  therefore,  that  there  is 
truth  in  both  views,  and  that  the  present  task  of  the 

1  Shakespeare  in  the  Theatre,  by  W.  Poel,  p.  70.    London,  1913. 


The  Merchant  of  Venice  131 

critic  is  to  extract  that  truth,  and  to  assign  to  each 
view  its  value  and  its  limitations? 


ii 

There  can  be  little  doubt  that  to  Elizabethan  audi- 
ences generally  Shylock  was  an  object  of  condemna- 
tion and  execration.  It  was  the  fashion  of  the  times 
to  despise  the  Jews,  and  to  hold  them  up  to  scorn, 
as  Marlowe  did  in  The  Jew  of  Malta.  Audiences 
were  filled  with  prejudices  against  them,  and  greatly 
enjoyed  the  spectacle  of  a  Jew  abused  on  the  stage. 
It  is  pretty  generally  admitted  now  by  scholars  that 
Jews  on  the  stage  were  looked  upon  as  comic  person- 
ages, and  that  they  would  be  greeted  with  laughter 
and  scorn.1  The  element  of  tragedy  in  such  plays 
seems  to  have  escaped  the  audiences  entirely. 

Shakespeare's  play,  therefore,  at  once  suggests  it- 
self to  us  as  an  attempt  to  better  and  perhaps  to 
correct  the  interpretation  of  Jewish  character  pre- 
sented by  Marlowe  in  his  play.  Marlowe  at  this  time 
was  Shakespeare's  greatest  dramatic  rival,  though  he 
had  died  probably  four  or  five  years  before  Shakespeare 
produced  The  Merchant  of  Venice.  His  work,  how- 
ever, had  surpassed  that  of  all  other  dramatists,  and 
now  Shakespeare  was  challenging  his  supremacy. 
Shakespeare's  Merchant  of  Venice,  then,  was  sure  to 
invite  comparison  with  Marlowe's  Jew  of  Malta,  and 
with  the  interpretation  of  Jewish  character  there 
presented. 

At  this  time  the  law  did  not  permit  Jews  to  reside 
in  England,  though  a  few  of  them  were  actually  there. 

1  Cf.    Brandes,    William    Shakespeare,    English    trans.,    p.    164, 
London,   1902. 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

It  might  be  supposed,  therefore,  that  neither  of  the 
dramatists  really  had  a  chance  to  understand  the 
Jewish  character,  and  that  whatever  they  had  to  say 
would  be  largely  a  matter  of  hearsay  and  prejudice. 
The  Jews  of  the  present  day  certainly  resent  having 
Shylock  regarded  as  a  typical  Jew,  and  insist  that 
he  is  but  a  caricature  of  the  real  Jew.  However  it 
may  be  in  the  matter  of  individual  character,  there  is 
less  reason  to  resent  Shakespeare's  interpretation  of 
the  Jewish  system  of  thought,  as  seen  in  Shylock. 

Some  recent  writers  have  felt  convinced  that  Shake- 
speare fully  shared  with  his  audience  this  prejudice 
against  the  Jews,  and  that  in  his  play  he  meant  to 
ridicule  and  execrate  Shylock.  These  convictions  have 
been  voiced  by  Professor  Stoll  in  a  recent  paper  in 
which  he  sums  up  the  matter  in  these  words :  "By 
all  the  devices  of  Shakespeare's  dramaturgy,  then, 
Shylock  is  proclaimed,  as  by  the  triple  repetition  of 
a  crier,  to  be  the  villain,  a  comic  villain,  though,  or 
butt.  ...  A  miser,  a  money-lender,  a  Jew, — all  these 
three  had  from  time  immemorial  been  objects  of  popu- 
lar detestation  and  ridicule,  whether  in  life  or  on  the 
stage."  l 

There  is  no  doubt  that  this  is  the  light  in  which 
Shakespeare  makes  Shylock  appear  to  the  other  per- 
sons of  the  drama,  particularly  to  Antonio  and  his 
friends.  But  how  far  this  reflects  the  prejudices  of 
the  age,  and  how  far  the  dramatist  himself  shared  in 
these  prejudices  must  be  sought  outside  the  matter 
of  the  play.  On  the  strength  of  the  play  alone  Shake- 
speare cannot  be  charged  with  the  blind  and  passionate 
bigotry  all  but  universal  in  his  day.  He  really  had 

1  "Shylock,"   article  in  Journal  of  English  and  Germanic  Phi- 
lology, X.  2.     1911,  p.  244. 


The  Merchant  of  Venice  133 

no  share  in  this  Jewish  hatred,  and  rose  far  above 
the  common  level  of  such  vulgar  prejudice.  A  com- 
parison of  his  Shylock  with  Marlowe's  Barabas,  or 
with  any  other  Jew  of  the  earlier  drama,  reveals  an 
absence  of  any  bigotry,  and  discloses  a  new  and 
better  attitude  toward  the  Jews.  All  critics  have 
noticed  that  his  Jew  is  a  man  and  not  a  monster,  a 
human  being  and  not  a  fiend.  His  play  may  be  in 
some  measure  a  protest  against  such  caricatures  of 
the  Jews. 

During  the  two  centuries  following  Shakespeare  the 
same  racial  and  religious  antipathies  continued,  and 
are  reflected  in  the  attitude  of  the  public  and  of  the 
critics  toward  Shakespeare's  play.  It  was  all  but 
universally  thought  that  the  dramatist  was  endeavoring 
merely  to  "hold  the  Jew  up  to  detestation,"  glorying 
in  the  discomfiture  of  Shylock,  and  rejoicing  in  his 
enforced  conversion  to  Christianity.  It  was  conceded, 
however,  that  as  usual  Shakespeare  took  higher  ground 
than  that  of  the  traditional  Jew-baiter,  and  raised 
his  victim  quite  above  the  current  notion  of  Jewish 
depravity. 

The  beginning  of  an  entirely  new  attitude  toward 
the  play  may  be  noticed  near  the  end  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  Reversing  all  former  opinion,  actors  and 
critics  began  to  think  that  instead  of  a  Jew-baiter, 
Shakespeare  was  in  reality  a  Jew-apologist.  They 
maintained  that  he  intended  to  portray  in  Shylock  a 
great  representative  of  his  race,  one  who  appeared  as 
its  advocate,  avenger,  and  martyr,  only  bettering  the 
Christian  example,  and  exposing  the  shamelessness  of 
the  Christians  by  turning  their  practices  upon  them- 
selves. 

This  view  appears   to  have  been  set  forth  first  in 


134  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

the  last  decade  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Furness 
says :  "Chronologically,  the  earliest  voice,  as  far  as  I 
know,  which  was  raised  in  defence  of  Shylock  and  in 
denunciation  of  the  illegality  of  his  defeat  is  that  of 
an  Anonymous  Contributor  to  a  volume  of  Essays  by 
a  Society  of  Gentlemen  at  Exeter,  printed  in  1792. 
The  Essay  is  called  'An  Apology  for  the  Character 
and  Conduct  of  Shylock,'  and  is  signed  <T.  O.' "  The 
Essayist  admits  that  Shylock  is  cruel,  but  pleads 
that  he  was  made  so  by  ill-treatment,  and  goes  on  to 
deplore  "the  lax  state  of  morality"  that  has  always 
accepted  the  verdict  of  the  unjust  trial  without  an 
instance  of  censure  or  of  unfavorable  sentiment.1 

Public  sentiment  began  to  turn  in  Shylock's  favor, 
however,  as  Furness  says,  only  "when  Edmund  Kean, 
in  1814,  revealed  a  Jew  almost  more  sinned  against 
than  sinning,  and  one  who  simply  bettered  the  instruc- 
tion of  Christian  example."  2  It  appears  further  that 
"Campbell  in  1833,  was  the  first  among  Editors  to 
maintain  openly  that  Shylock  was  an  ill-used  man,  with 
nothing  unnatural  in  his  character,  and  that  he  was 
overcome  'only  by  a  legal  quibble.'  "  3  In  the  two  cen- 
turies since  Elizabeth,  human  sympathies  had  broad- 
ened, and  as  Brandes  puts  it,  "In  the  humaner  view  of 
a  later  age  Shylock  appears  as  a  half-pathetic  creation, 
a  scapegoat,  a  victim."  4 

The  most  recent  advocate  of  this  very  modern  view 
says  that  The  Merchant  of  Venice  is  an  "example  of 
a  masked  design,  of  a  subtly  disguised  purpose. 
There  was  one  drama  which  jibed  at  the  Jew — and 
defended  him;  one  which  exposed  his  inhumanity — 

1  Furness,  Variorum  Merchant  of  Venice,  pp.  403-4. 

*Ibid.,  p.  403. 

*Ibid.,  p.  405. 

4  William  Shakespeare,  p.  164. 


The  Merchant  of  Venice  135 

and  his  human  feeling;  one  which  revealed  him  as 
pitiless — and  an  object  of  pity;  one  which  showed  the 
iniquity  he  dealt  out  to  others — and  the  iniquity 
dealt  out  to  him."  This  interpretation  of  the  play 
makes  it  Shakespeare's  grand  plea  for  tolerance,  and 
"the  most  stupendous,  the  most  remorseless  satire 
.  .  .  against  the  extremes  and  follies  of  his  age." 

While  it  may  be  admitted  that  this  modern  attitude 
displays  a  commendable  advance  in  human  sympathy, 
it  cannot  pass  as  an  interpretation  of  the  play.  There 
is  nothing  convincing  about  any  of  these  views  that 
make  the  dramatist  a  preacher  of  tolerance  or  an  advo- 
cate of  any  sect  or  creed.  Nothing  has  appeared  in 
any  of  the  recent  discussions  of  the  play  to  make  it 
necessary  to  differ  from  the  opinion  of  Professor 
Ward,  uttered  now  over  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago: 
"It  is,  I  am  convinced,  only  modern  readers  and  modern 
actors  who  suppose  that  Shakespeare  consciously  in- 
tended to  arouse  the  sympathy  of  his  audience  on  be- 
half of  the  Jew."  2 

These  widely  divergent  views  appear  to  be  reflections 
of  the  spirit  of  the  Elizabethan  and  Victorian  ages 
respectively,  rather  than  interpretations  of  the  play 
itself.  On  the  strength  of  the  play  it  is  not  necessary 
to  accuse  Shakespeare  of  all  the  anti- Jewish  prejudices 
of  his  age,  such  as  were  in  evidence  in  the  trial  and 
condemnation  of  Dr.  Lopez  in  1594,  only  a  few  years 
before  he  wrote  his  play.  Nor  is  it  possible,  on  the 
strength  of  the  play  alone,  to  maintain  that  Shake- 
speare was  an  apologist  of  Shylock  the  Jew,  and  a 
satirist  of  Antonio  the  Christian.  The  dramatist  no- 

*J.   Cuming  Walters,   "The    Jew   that    Shakespeare   Drew,"   in 
Shakespearean  Addresses,  pp.  269-270,  274.    London,  1912. 
2  History  of  English  Dramatic  Literature,  I.  189.    London,  1875. 


136  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

where  else  has  played  the  role  of  accuser  or  advocate 
of  any  special  creed  or  religion  or  politics,  or  of  any 
particular  sect  or  race  or  party,  and  it  is  too  much 
to  ask  us  to  admit  it  in  connection  with  this  play. 
No  successful  attempt  has  ever  been  made  to  enlist 
him  in  any  school  or  church  or  party.  He  every- 
where plays  a  much  larger  role  than  either  accuser  or 
defender,  prosecutor  or  advocate.  He  seems  to  be 
above  all  such  dissensions  and  divisions  that  separate 
men,  like  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth, 

"holding  no  form  of  creed, 
But  contemplating  all." 

If  Shakespeare  is  as  great  and  original  in  power 
of  thought  as  admittedly  he  is  in  dramatic  skill,  we 
must  learn  to  interpret  him  not  by  his  age,  nor  by  our 
age,  but  by  himself.  So  little  do  we  know  of  his  life, 
and  so  meagre  are  the  accounts  by  his  friends  and 
contemporaries  of  what  manner  of  man  he  was,  that 
there  is  little  certain  reflection  of  his  thought  in  any- 
thing but  his  written  work.  It  is  in  his  poems  and 
plays  alone  that  we  can,  at  this  day,  find  any  evidence 
that  Shakespeare  unlocked  either  his  heart  or  his  mind. 
Our  first  duty,  then,  toward  this  play  is  to  discard  as 
far  as  we  may  our  own  opinions  of  Shylock  as  a  man 
and  a  Jew,  and  of  Antonio  as  a  man  and  a  Christian, 
and  let  the  words  of  the  play  creep  into  our  ears 
and  see  if  the  dramatist  does  not  make  harmony  out 
of  the  many  discordant  notes  of  the  various  stories 
that  he  incorporated  into  this  great  drama. 

in 

Hints,  but  only  hints,  of  the  dramatist's  meaning 
may  be  derived  from  a  study  of  the  material  with 


The  Merchant  of  Venice  137 

which  he  worked,  and  of  the  process  by  which  he  con- 
structed his  play.  His  method  of  handling  his  ma- 
terial, and  the  result  of  his  art  in  the  finished  drama, 
are  the  only  sources  of  our  knowledge  of  the  mind 
of  Shakespeare.  Unfortunately,  the  old  play  men- 
tioned by  Gosson,  which  it  is  agreed  by  all  is  the  most 
likely  immediate  source  of  Shakespeare's  play,  has 
been  lost,  but  we  possess  all  the  other  known  earlier 
versions  of  the  narratives  that  the  dramatist  may 
have  used.  We  know  enough,  however,  about  the  play 
mentioned  by  Gosson  to  make  it  clear  that  not  one  of 
all  these  earlier  versions  affords  any  real  help  for  the 
interpretation  of  Shakespeare's  play.  The  conviction 
is  inevitable  with  all  critics  that  none,  of  these  versions 
have  the  same  theme  or  possess  any  of  the  great 
qualities  of  The  Merchant  of  Venice.  Gosson's  ref- 
erence to  the  lost  play  as  "The  Jew  .  .  .  representing 
the  greediness  of  worldly  chusers,  and  the  bloody  minds 
of  Usurers"  lets  us  see  that  already  before  Shake- 
speare worked  upon  this  material  the  two  stories  of  the 
Caskets  and  the  Pound  of  Flesh  had  been  combined 
into  a  single  drama.  Of  direct  importance,  however, 
in  our  understanding  of  Shakespeare,  the  words  of 
Gosson  let  us  see  that  the  old  play  was  primarily  the 
story  of  Shylock,  and  that  in  it  the  Jew  was  held  up 
to  execration  after  the  manner  of  all  plays  and  stories 
of  the  times  dealing  with  Jewish  characters.  It  may- 
be concluded,  therefore,  that  the  old  play  did  not  con- 
tain anything  of  the  wonderful,  pulsating  life,  or  depth 
of  meaning  to  be  found  in  Shakespeare's  play. 

All  we  know,  then,  of  the  older  stories,  or  plays, 
leaves  it  clear  that  it  was  Shakespeare  who  changed  it 
from  the  "Jew"  to  the  "Merchant"  of  Venice,  com- 
pletely transforming  its  inner  meaning.  After  Shake- 


138  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

speare,  as  we  know,  Lansdowne  once  more  changed  it 
back  into  the  "Jew"  of  Venice,  thereby  losing  the  great 
value  of  the  work  of  Shakespeare.  The  change  made 
by  Shakespeare  is  significant  of  the  alteration  in  the 
point  of  view  and  of  the  consequent  meaning  of  the 
story.  Shakespeare's  play  is  no  longer  the  narrative 
of  a  usurious  and  relentless  Jew,  but  the  story  of  the 
danger  and  subsequent  escape  of  a  Christian  merchant 
from  the  clutches  of  a  Jewish  money-lender.  It  is 
therefore  not  primarily  anti-Jewish,  as  were  the  old 
forms  of  the  story,  for  the  conflict  of  Christian  and 
Jew  issues  only  in  connection  with  Bassanio's  pursuit 
of  love,  which  is  the  main  story  of  the  play.  The  old 
racial  and  religious  quarrel,  by  being  related  to  the 
love  story,  receives  a  new  vital  and  moral  significance. 
Its  solution,  moreover,  affected  as  it  is  by  Bassanio's 
success  in  love,  is  worked  out  on  the  plane  of  ordinary 
human  and  moral  relationships. 

Shakespeare  everywhere  has  the  habit  of  encasing 
great  and  elementary  human  passions  in  some  of  the 
quite  ordinary  affairs  or  transactions  of  life,  thus  ex- 
hibiting their  essential  relations  to  life  and  its  tasks 
and  problems.  He  has  accordingly  enclosed  the  con- 
flict of  Antonio  and  Shylock  in  the  more  usual  but 
romantic  story  of  Bassanio's  love  for  Portia,  and  has 
made  the  latter  both  the  occasion  and  the  solution  of 
the  racial  conflict.  It  is  the  conflict  of  the  Christian 
and  the  Jew,  however,  that  is  the  one  all-absorbing 
topic  of  the  play,  and  it  is  Shylock  who  is  the  one 
great  commanding  personality.  Even  Portia  herself, 
though  so  much  more  excellent,  and  so  charming  as 
a  woman,  can  scarcely  rival  Shylock  in  dramatic  or 
in  popular  interest.  It  is  Shylock's  loan  that  makes 
possible  the  Caskets  Scene ;  for  Bassanio  could  not  have 


The  Merchant  of  Venice  139 

made  the  venture  without  his  money.  Shylock,  too,  is 
the  center  of  the  Trial  Scene;  for  he  is  the  plaintiff 
who  asks  the  Court  to  decide  the  matter  of  his  bond. 
When  Shylock  finally  leaves  the  stage  in  the  fourth  act 
the  main  interest  has  departed,  and  the  fifth  act  has 
seemed  to  many  to  be  an  unimportant  though  pretty 
addition  to  the  story. 

The  opening  scenes  of  Shakespeare,  it  has  been 
maintained,  strike  the  key-note  of  the  actions  and 
motives  of  the  plays.  To  overlook  these  or  to  mis- 
understand them  is  to  fail  in  grasping  the  meaning  of 
the  entire  play.  With  the  exception  of  Hamlet,  no 
play  has  suffered  more  from  this  than  The  Merchant 
of  Venice.  Shakespeare  seldom,  if  ever,  mis-names  his 
plays,  and  to  call  this  play  the  "Merchant"  rather 
than  the  "Jew"  of  Venice  means  that  Antonio  and  not 
Shylock  is  to  be  the  subject  of  the  story.  That  Shy- 
lock  at  a  later  time  and  for  a  few  scenes  becomes 
the  center  of  interest  does  not  mean  that  the  play 
ceases  to  be  chieflj  the  story  of  Antonio. 

It  is  therefore  of  prime  importance  to  notice  that 
the  chief  actors  in  the  earlier  scenes  are  Antonio  and 
Bassanio,  on  the  one  hand,  and  Portia  and  Nerissa  on 
the  other.  In  these  two  scenes  the  motive  of  the  entire 
play  is  laid  before  us,  and  Shylock  has  not  yet  put  in 
an  appearance,  nor  has  his  name  once  been  mentioned. 
The  Jew  appears  for  the  first  time  in  the  third  scene, 
and  finally  disappears  entirely,  as  everybody  has 
noticed,  before  the  close  of  the  fourth  act.  This  leaves 
the  beautiful  fifth  act  to  complete  the  action  begun 
in  the  first  two  scenes. 

Shylock,  then,  is  not  the  play,  but  only  an  important 
incident  of  the  play.  He  appears  only  as  a  compli- 
cation of  the  initial  plot,  which  apart  from  him  would 


140  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

reach  its  solution  when  Bassanio  chooses  the  right 
casket.  This  would  complete  the  Caskets  Story,  which 
Shakespeare  thus  makes  the  main  plot  but  not  the 
entire  plot  of  his  drama.  With  this  he  complicates 
the  Story  of  the  Pound  of  Flesh,  which  introduces 
the  character  of  Shylock.  The  third  story,  that  of 
Jessica,  is  a  link  between  the  two,  and  helps  to  solve 
the  complication  caused  by  Shylock's  hatred  of  the 
Christians. 

At  the  opening  of  the  play,  Antonio  is  presented  as 
"sad,"  and  Portia  as  "weary."  Antonio's  first  words 
are: 

"In  sooth  I  know  not  why  I  am  so  sad, 
It  wearies  me:  you  say  it  wearies  you." 

(I.  i.  1-2.) 

Not  much  better  is  the  condition  of  Portia,  as  her 
words  indicate: 

"By  my  troth  Nerissa,  my  little  body  is  aweary  of  this   great 
world." 

(I.  ii.  1-2.) 

Antonio's  melancholy  1  and  Portia's  weariness  both  seem 
constitutional,  and  both  foreshadow  some  of  the  diffi- 
culties and  impending  disasters  that  later  develop  in 
the  play.  Antonio  always  forebodes  the  worst,  as  in 
the  Trial  Scene  when  he  is  ready  to  give  up  and  let 
Shylock  claim  his  pound  of  flesh.  Portia,  though  not 
so  apprehensive,  is  equally  disposed  to  take  things  se- 
riously and  to  let  them  weigh  upon  her  mind.  The 
"sadness"  of  the  one  may  be  taken  as  helping  to  pro- 
duce the  situation  of  the  Bond  Story,  and  the  "weari- 
ness" of  the  other  as  magnifying  the  uncertainty  and 
hence  anxiety  of  the  Caskets  Story.  Both  moods 
1Cf.  Furness,  p.  2. 


The  Merchant  of  Venice  141 

taken  together  forecast  the  serious  and  tragic  nature 
of  the  two  issues  of  the  drama.  All  the  elements  of 
tragedy  seem  to  be  present,  and  are  averted  only  by 
the  inherent  moral  character  of  Fate. 

The  situation  of  the  play,  outlined  in  the  first  two 
scenes,  is  taken,  then,  entirely  from  the  story  of  the 
Caskets.  These  two  scenes  present  all  the  original 
persons  of  the  drama.  The  action  consists  of  Antonio's 
equipment,  or  the  arrangements  for  the  equipment,  of 
Bassanio  with  the  means  to  pursue  his  love  for  Portia. 
Because  of  his  spendthrift  habits  Bassanio  finds  himself 
unable  for  want  of  money  to  furnish  an  expedition 
worthy  of  a  pilgrimage  to  Belmont,  to  hazard  his 
fortunes  for  the  hand  of  the  heiress.  He  therefore 
appeals  to  his  wealthy  friend,  Antonio  the  merchant, 
for  the  necessary  amount.  His  friend,  however,  does 
not  have  the  ready  money  for  the  purpose,  but  as  he  is 
rich  in  ships  and  merchandise  he  offers  to  use  his 
credit  to  borrow  the  money: 

"Try  what  my  credit  can  in  Venice  do, 
That  shall  be  rackt  even  to  the  uttermost, 
To  furnish  thee  to  Belmont  to  fair  Portia." 
(I.  i.  190-2.) 

Bassanio  has  been  called  a  mere  adventurer,  and 
not  a  true  lover,  because  in  soliciting  aid  from  Antonio 
he  does  not  plead  his  love  for  Portia,  but  proposes  the 
matter  only  as  a  means  "to  get  clear  of  all  the  debts 
I  owe."  His  every  word  about  the  lady,  however,  lets 
us  see  that  he  is  deeply  in  love  with  her,  and  his  con- 
fidence of  success  bespeaks  the  assurance  of  a  lover. 
Moreover,  the  entire  course  of  the  play  certifies  to  his 
true  love,  especially  his  manly  self-renunciation  in  the 
choice  of  the  leaden  casket.  It  would  also  be  quite  out 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

of  the  spirit  of  Shakespeare  to  make  so  much  turn 
on  the  success  of  a  fickle  and  adventurous  love.  The 
creator  of  Romeo  and  Juliet  knew  as  few  have  ever 
known  that  it  is  only  true  love  that  can  snatch  victory 
from  the  most  adverse  conditions  in  life. 

Portia,  meanwhile,  is  languishing  in  the  uncertainty 
connected  with  the  choice  of  the  caskets.  This  esti- 
mable young  lady  is  the  surviving  daughter  of  a 
wealthy  but  eccentric  old  father  whose  will  decrees 
that  her  hand  shall  be  given  in  marriage  only  to  him 
who  shall  choose  the  right  one  among  three  caskets 
arranged  in  accordance  with  his  plan.  She  is  very  ill 
at  ease  under  this  necessity  which  seems  to  her  only 
a  strange  form  of  chance.  Suitors  have  come  and 
have  gone,  some  refusing  to  take  the  risk  of  loss,  and 
leaving  without  making  any  choice ;  others  have  chosen 
wrong,  and  have  accordingly  been  condemned  to  bitter 
disappointment  and  perpetual  celibacy.  Bassanio, 
however,  who  had  previously  come  to  Belmont  in  the 
company  of  another,  had  already  made  a  very  favor- 
able impression  on  both  Nerissa  and  Portia,  who  "re- 
members him  worthy  of  praise."  Thus  Bassanio,  even 
before  the  splendid  expedition  equipped  by  Antonio,  is 
an  acceptable  suitor  for  the  hand  of  Portia. 

The  theme  of  the  drama,  then,  is  derived  in  the  first 
instance  from  the  Caskets  Story,  and  consists  in 
Bassanio's  pursuit  of  the  love  of  Portia,  equipped  as 
he  is  by  the  generosity  of  his  friend,  Antonio.  The 
love  of  Antonio  for  Bassanio  supplies  the  situation 
that  inaugurates  the  first  conflict  of  the  drama.  This 
same  friendliness,  however,  gets  the  merchant  into 
conflict  with  the  Jew.  Then  in  turn,  the  happy  cul- 
mination of  Bassanio's  love  affair  supplies  Antonio 
with  the  legal  skill  of  his  friend's  wife,  by  which  he 


The  Merchant  of  Venice  143 

eludes  the  clutches  of  Shylock.  In  the  last  act,  then, 
there  is  a  return  to  the  original  theme  of  the  play, 
and  Bassanio  is  enabled  through  his  wife's  riches  to 
repay  the  debt  to  his  faithful  friend,  Antonio.  The 
Caskets  Story  thus  furnishes  the  original  theme  of  the 
drama,  and  in  turn  also  the  frame-work  for  the  still 
more  absorbing  conflict  of  Christian  and  Jew,  con- 
tained in  the  story  of  the  Pound  of  Flesh. 


IV 

Antonio's  lack  of  ready  money  to  equip  his  friend 
properly  to  undertake  the  expedition  for  the  hand  of 
fair  Portia  leads  him  to  try  his  credit  among  the 
money-lenders  of  Venice,  who  of  course  are  Jews. 
While  potentially  very  rich,  Antonio's  wealth  is  all 
at  sea  in  his  many  ships,  and  his  bond  is  all  that  he 
can  give  for  the  ready  money.  This  he  is  willing  to 
give  to  show  his  friendship  for  the  excellent  Bassanio. 
The  greatest  and  most  absorbing  conflict  of  the  drama 
begins  with  the  attempt  of  the  Christians  and  Jew  to 
arrange  satisfactory  terms  for  the  loan  of  the  money. 

Now  for  the  first  time  the  venerable  figure  of  Shy- 
lock  appears  upon  the  stage.  It  is  to  him  that  the 
Christians  appeal  for  the  necessary  money;  but  he  is 
very  unwilling  to  lend  to  them  until  he  hits  upon  the 
device  of  the  pound  of  flesh  as  his  security.  The  two 
are  hostile  parties  from  the  outset,  and  the  Christians 
expecting  no  kindness  are  prepared  to  give  Shylock 
the  most  favorable  terms.  Differing  as  they  do  on 
all  other  matters  they  expect  this  to  be  a  hard  bargain. 
In  their  differences  there  are  many  elements  of  bitter- 
ness and  resentment,  but  all  alike  grow  out  of  the 
fact  that  the  two  parties  belong  to  different  races 


144  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

and  religions  which  have  different  standards  and  prac- 
tices of  business.  The  play,  then,  becomes  Shake- 
speare's dramatic  study  of  these  two  types. 

The  encounter  of  Antonio  and  Shylock,  and  the 
terms  of  the  loan,  the  dramatist  is  careful  to  set  before 
us  clearly  and  fully.  Bassanio  has  met  Shylock  on  the 
Rialto,  and  has  secured  the  promise  of  the  money  on 
the  bond  of  Antonio.  This  at  once  introduces  into 
the  play  the  conflict  of  greatest  interest,  that  between 
the  Christian  and  the  Jew.  Even  in  the  arrange- 
ments for  the  loan  of  the  money  we  see  the  shadow 
of  the  great  impending  conflict  between  Antonio  and 
Shylock.  The  attempt  of  these  old  enemies,  the  mer- 
chant and  the  money-lender,  to  strike  a  bargain 
arouses  all  their  mutual  prejudices  and  antipathies. 
Shylock,  however,  in  his  eagerness  to  strike  a  bargain 
endeavors  to  conceal  his  burning  hatred.  He  foresees 
his  long-looked-for  chance  to  revenge  himself  for  in- 
juries done  by  Antonio.  While  outwardly  professing 
friendship,  to  himself  he  says :  "I  hate  him  for  he  is 
a  Christian."  This  hypocritical  friendship  is  in 
strange  contrast  to  the  acknowledged  unfriendliness 
of  Antonio,  who  admits  the  indignities  he  has  heaped 
upon  the  Jew,  and  professes  he  is  as  like  to  do  the 
same  again.  If  Shylock  lends  him  the  money  it  is  not 
to  be  on  the  plea  of  friendship,  but  "rather  to  thine 
enemy."  Antonio  has  nothing  to  conceal,  and  wishes 
to  deal  entirely  in  the  open.  He  detests  Shylock's 
methods  and  principles  of  business,  but  in  the  present 
emergency  he  is  willing  to  come  to  his  terms. 

There  is  no  doubt  some  truth  in  the  accusation  that 
Shakespeare's  portrayal  of  Shylock  is  nothing  but  a 
caricature  of  the  Jewish  character.  A  similar  criti- 
cism, however,  might  be  made  concerning  the  character 


The  Merchant  of  Venice  145 

of  Antonio  as  a  Christian.  In  his  Jew  of  Malta 
Marlowe  is  thought  to  caricature  not  only  the  Jew 
but  also  the  Christian,  for  he  makes  them  both  rather 
despicable.  In  his  play,  however,  Shakespeare  has 
changed  both  for  the  better,  and  if  he  has  not  re- 
moved the  caricature  entirely  from  the  Jew,  neither 
has  he  removed  it  entirely  from  the  Christian.  If  Shy- 
lock  is  a  mediaeval  and  not  a  modern  Jew,  Antonio  is  no 
less  a  mediaeval  and  not  a  modern  Christian.  In  this 
respect  one  portrait  has  but  little  advantage  over  the 
other,  for  both  alike  fall  short  of  the  many  excellences 
of  the  Jewish  and  Christian  characters  with  which  we 
are  now-a-days  familiar.1 

Excellent  as  he  is  in  many  particulars,  Antonio, 
to  us,  is  far  from  an  admirable  character.  To  his 
friends  and  fellow-Christians  he  may  be  magnanimous 
and  generous,  and  Salanio  calls  him  "the  good  Antonio, 
the  honest  Antonio."  But  to  Jews  he  acknowledges  no 
obligations,  regarding  them  as  dogs  rather  than  men ; 
while  to  Shylock  in  particular  he  is  a  contemptuous 
and  implacable  foe.  He  conceived  no  obligation  of 
love  to  any  but  his  friends,  and  made  no  apology  for 
a  bitter  hatred  and  contempt  towards  his  enemies. 
His  circle  of  duty  took  in  only  those  of  his  own  creed 
and  excluded  those  of  other  nations  and  creeds.  His 
Christianity  was  essentially  mediaeval  in  its  narrow- 
ness, both  in  doctrine  and  in  practice. 

Antonio  is  nevertheless  the  representative  Christian 
of  the  play.  He  is  not,  however,  a  modern  Christian, 
but  was,  no  doubt,  a  good  type  of  the  Christian  of  his 
day.  He  embodies  the  narrow,  mediaeval  conception 

1  Cf.  "Shakespeare's  Jew  and  Marlowe's  Christians,"  by  William 
Poel,  in  his  Shakespeare  in  the  Theatre,  pp.  69-84. 


146  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

of  Christianity,  and,  therefore,  he  is  not  to  us  an 
ideal  character.1  His  conception  of  Christianity  is 
restricted  and  exclusive,  but  he  conscientiously  lives  up 
to  his  notion  of  duty,  and  in  every  emergency  makes 
his  appeal  to  Christian  principles  and  practices.  In 
the  conflict  with  the  Jew,  all  the  Christians  become 
very  conscious  of  their  religious  difference  from  Shy- 
lock,  and  side  with  Antonio  as  the  representative  of 
their  religion.  Between  Shylock  and  Antonio,  then, 
the  conflict  appears  much  less  a  personal  matter  than 
an  antagonism  of  religion  and  ethics. 

Shylock  is  portrayed  as  personally  less  excellent 
than  Antonio,  though  a  much  more  manly  Jew  than  the 
English  drama  had  ever  presented  before.  No  one, 
however,  who  knows  anything  of  the  Elizabethan  frame 
of  mind  can  fairly  think  the  dramatist  intended  him  as 
a  hero  and  a  martyr,  or  can  imagine  an  audience  re- 
garding him  as  such.  It  is  too  great  a  stretch  of 
imagination  to  maintain  that  Shakespeare  intended 
the  Jew  for  the  very  opposite  of  what  his  audience 
would  undoubtedly  understand  him  to  be.  Shylock's 
cruelty  and  vindictiveness  make  it  impossible  for  us  to 
think  that  Shakespeare  intended  him  to  be  .regarded 
as  a  noble  but  much  abused  Jew,  whose  only  misdeeds 
were  his  acrimonious  defences  of  himself  and  his  race 
from  the  persecutions  of  the  Christians.  His  char- 
acteristics are  too  strong  and  positive  to  admit  of 
such  a  lenient  view.  Shakespeare  could  not  fail  to 
know  that  some  of  the  qualities  portrayed  in  him  were 
among  those  that  an  Elizabethan  audience  would  in- 
evitably regard  as  most  detestable.  As  Professor  Stoll 
says,  "Shylock  was  both  money-lender  and  Jew.  In 
1  Of.  "The  Merchant  of  Venice  as  an  Exponent  of  Industrial 
Ethics,"  by  J.  Clark  Murray,  International  Journal  of  Ethics, 
Vol.  IX,  1898-9;  pp.  331-349. 


The  Merchant  of  Venice  147 

him  are  combined  two  of  the  deepest  and  most  preva- 
lent social  antipathies  of  two  thousand  years,  still 
sanctioned,  in  Shakespeare's  day,  by  the  teachings  of 
religion."  l 

No  doubt  Shakespeare  was  in  this  as  in  all  other 
matters  more  humane  than  his  age,  how  much  more 
humane  may  be  measured  by  the  difference  between  his 
Shylock  and  Marlowe's  Barabas.  The  fact  that  he 
had  to  reckon  on  the  antipathy  of  his  audience  toward 
the  Jew  would  lead  him  to  eliminate  from  Shylock  all 
objectionable  moral  characteristics  if  he  wished  him  to 
obtain  their  sympathy  in  the  end.  But  this  he  has 
not  done.  He  has  left  him  with  such  personal  char- 
acteristics as,  in  either  Jew  or  Christian,  would  elicit 
the  condemnation  of  his  audience.  It  is  only  a  modern 
actor  before  a  modern  audience  that  could  make  Shy- 
lock  appear  as  more  sinned  against  than  sinning. 

In  his  personal  character,  moreover,  Shylock  is 
portrayed  as  less  excellent  than  Antonio.  The  mer- 
chant has  many  good  and  true  friends,  whose  words 
and  deeds  testify  to  his  generosity  and  to  his  many 
excellent  qualities.  But  Shylock  has  scarcely  any 
friends.  Tubal  seems  to  be  the  only  one  in  whom  he 
can  confide,  or  in  whom  he  can  trust.  His  conduct  has 
robbed  him  of  any  love  in  his  own  home.  In  all  his 
dealings  Shylock  is  portrayed  as  greedy,  as  miserly, 
and  as  tyrannical.  If  this  were  manifest  only  in  his 
dealings  with  Christians,  it  might  be  considered  an 
expression  of  religious  ill-will  and  intolerance,  but  it  is 
also  shown  in  his  treatment  of  his  own  household.  His 
servant,  Launcelot,  leaves  him  for  the  service  of  the 
Christian,  Bassanio,  in  hopes  of  better  treatment, 
giving  as  his  reason,  "I  am  famished  in  his  service." 
1Op.  dt.  p.  266. 


148  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

His  own  daughter,  Jessica,  when  she  marries,  prefers 
a  Christian,  hoping  for  better  home  conditions,  for 
she  says,  "Our  house  is  hell."  Shylock's  sorrow  at  her 
elopement  is  not  so  much  at  the  loss  of  his  daughter 
as  of  his  ducats,  and  he  would  gladly  see  her  brought 
home  dead  if  only  his  ducats  would  also  be  brought 
in  the  coffin  with  her.  "Jessica  my  girl,"  spoken 
by  him  as  he  leaves  his  home  in  her  care,  as  Booth  has 
remarked,  "are  the  only  words  that  Shylock  speaks, 
which  in  the  least  degree  approach  gentleness,  and 
they  mean  nothing."  Even  his  grief  over  the  tur- 
quoise ring  given  him  by  his  wife  is  more  for  its  value 
than  for  its  sentiment. 

How  far  Shakespeare  intends  to  imply  that  these 
are  the  characteristics  of  the  universal  Jew  it  would 
be  difficult  to  say.  But  they  are  the  characteristics 
of  the  universal  money-lender,  and  Shylock  was  a 
Jewish  money-lender.  If  not  in  his  personal  character, 
at  least  in  his  religion  Shylock  is  undoubtedly  pre- 
sented as  the  typical  Jew.  In  every  particular  he 
exhibits  the  mind  and  habits  of  the  mediaeval  Jew,  and 
in  every  extremity  he  puts  forward  the  examples  and 
principles  of  the  Jewish  religion,  making  them  excuses 
for  his  greed  and  avarice  and  cruelty.  He  takes  the 
Jewish  Jacob  as  his  example,  and  invokes  the  blessing 
of  "father  Abram,"  and  looks  to  the  Old  Testament 
for  all  his  moral  precepts.  It  is  therefore  his  religion 
quite  as  much  as  his  personal  character  that  is  on  trial 
in  the  play,  just  as  in  the  case  of  Antonio.  In  every 
emergency  both  fall  back  upon  the  peculiar  principles 
and  practices  of  their  religions,  and  it  is  these  as  much 
as  the  men  that  are  tested  in  the  final  trial. 

Thus  the  two  men  are  led  to  exhibit  the  limitations 
1  Furness,  p.  88. 


The  Merchant  of  Venice  149 

of  their  principles  by  putting  them  consistently  into 
practice.  As  Professor  Moulton  has  well  said,  "Fic- 
tion is  the  experimental  side  of  human  science."  * 
Shylock  does  not  represent  the  best  of  his  religion, 
and  Antonio  displays  very  little  Christian  charity. 
Both  develop  the  irony  of  their  positions  by  holding 
firmly  to  the  letter  that  killeth  and  neglecting  the 
spirit  that  giveth  life.  To  this  extent,  then,  the  play 
is  a  battle  of  creeds,  and  not  only  "Portia's  eloquent 
contrast  between  justice  and  mercy,"  as  Dr.  Brandes 
says,  but  also  the  issue  of  the  play  would  no  doubt  be 
understood  by  the  public  "as  an  assertion  of  the  su- 
periority of  Christian  ethics  to  the  Jewish  insistence  on 
the  letter  of  the  law."2 

That  the  antagonism  between  the  two  men  takes  the 
forms  both  of  religious  creed  and  business  methods  may 
be  seen  in  connection  with  the  loan  of  money.  Shy- 
lock  then  freely  admitted  that  "Antonio  is  a  good 
man,"  meaning  that  his  bond  was  sufficient  security, 
even  though  all  his  ships  were  at  sea.  He  is  reluctant, 
however,  to  lend  to  him,  for  as  he  says,  "I  hate  him 
for  he  is  a  Christian."  Then  he  adds  the  still  deeper 
reason  by  saying  that  he  hates  him, 

"more,  for  that  in  low  simplicity, 
He  lends  out  money  gratis,  and  brings  down 
The  rate  of  usance  here  with  us  in  Venice." 

(I.  iii.  43-45.)    . 

This  is  a  conflict  of  methods  of  business,  but  it  grows 
out  of  the  differences  in  religion.  The  Christians, 
thinking  money  was  barren,  would  not  take  increase 
or  interest  for  its  use.  They  did  not  know  that  it 

1  Four   Years   of   Novel  Reading,  p.   4;   Boston,   D.   C.    Heath 
&  Co. 
•  William  Shakespeare,  English  trans.,  pp.  157-8. 


150  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

was  not  money,  but  ewes  and  rams  that  really  were 
borrowed,  and  that  these  have  a  natural  increase. 
The  Jews,  having  few  other  ways  of  living,  had  no 
scruples  about  lending  money  on  interest.  When, 
therefore,  Shylock  finally  insists  on  lending  the  money 
without  interest,  as  the  Christians  did,  Antonio  sug- 
gests, "This  Hebrew  will  turn  Christian,  he  grows 
kind."  (I.  iii.  183-4.) 

The  loan,  however,  is  not  arranged  until  Shylock 
has  taken  his  opportunity  to  express  the  deep  hatred, 
"a  certain  loathing,"  which  he  bears  toward  Antonio 
personally.  He  reminds  him  of  the  many  indignities 
and  insults  he  has  endured  from  him,  and  of  the 
patience  with  which  he  has  borne  it  all.  Then  in  a 
conciliatory  manner  he  adds, 

"I  would  be  friends  with  you,  and  have  your  love, 
Forget  the  shames  that  you  have  stained  me  with, 
Supply  your  present  wants,  and  take  no  doit 
Of  usance  for  my  moneys,  and  you'll  not  hear  me, 
This  is  kind  I  offer." 

(I.  iii.  142-146.) 

The  Christians  had  not,  however,  expected  anything 
but  a  hard  bargain  from  their  old  enemy,  and  are 
greatly  surprised  at  his  apparently  easy  terms.  He 
will  not  merely  take  no  interest,  but  as  security  for 
the  money  he  will  take  only  Antonio's  bond,  which  shall 
be  signed  "in  a  merry  sport,"  that  if  the  sum  of  money 
is  not  paid  on  such  a  day  the  forfeit  shall  be 

"an   equal   pound 

Of  your  fair  flesh,  to  be  cut  off  and  taken 
In  what  part  of  your  body  it  pleaseth  me." 

(I.  iii.  154-6.) 

Antonio  is  quite  willing  to  give  this  bond,  as  he  feels 
secure  in  his  many  ships;  but  Bassanio  protests 
strongly, 


The  Merchant  of  Venice  151 

"You  shall  not  seal  to  such  a  bond  for  me, 
I'll  rather  dwell  in  my  necessity." 

(I.  iii.  159-160.) 

Antonio,  having  no  suspicions,  had  no  idea  of  the  deep 
revenge  that  lay  behind  that  apparently  innocent 
bond.  But  Shylock  knew: 

"If  I  can  catch  him  once  upon  the  hip, 
I  will  feed  fat  the  ancient  grudge  I  bear  him." 

(I.  iii.  46-47.) 

In  spite  of  the  further  protest  of  Bassanio,  who  likes 
not  "fair  terms  and  a  villain's  mind,"  the  bond  is 
agreed  to,  the  money  passed  over,  and  Bassanio  betakes 
himself  to  Belmont. 


The  object  of  Bassanio's  quest,  the  beautiful  and 
wealthy  Portia,  exhibits  considerable  concern  as  one 
after  another  of  her  would-be  husbands  chooses  among 
the  caskets.  She  and  Nerissa  have  a  good  deal  of 
serious  merriment  as  they  discuss  the  virtues  of  these 
suitors,  and  of  apprehension  as  they  lead  them  to  the 
caskets  to  choose.  Portia  thinks  it  rather  an  unfair 
ordeal  to  subject  her  to  such  a  chance,  and  considers  it 
unwonted  caprice  on  her  father's  part: 

"I  may  neither  choose  whom  I  would,  nor  refuse  whom  I  dislike, 
so  is  the  will  of  a  living  daughter  curb'd  by  the  will  of  a  dead 
father." 

(I.  ii.  23-25.) 

It  all  looked  as  though  she  would  be  subject  to  the 
humiliation  and  danger  of  being  won  by  chance.  But 
such  was  not  the  case.  What  it  did  was  to  replace 
her  right  of  free  choice  by  an  arrangement  providing 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

for  the  higher  necessity  of  her  moral  nature  in  securing 
as  her  husband  a  worthy  and  honorable  man.  The 
inscriptions  on  the  caskets  were  so  ingeniously  devised 
that  no  one  but  a  worthy  man  would  ever  choose  the 
leaden  casket— one  who  would  truly  love  Portia,  and 
whose  character  was  guaranteed  by  the  purity  and  un- 
selfishness of  his  love.  This  faith  the  dramatist  puts 
into  the  words  of  Nerissa: 

"The  lottery  .  .  .  will,  no  doubt,  never  be  chosen  by  any  rightly, 
but  one  who  you  shall  rightly  love." 

(I.  ii.  28-32.) 

When  the  Prince  of  Morocco  came  to  choose  he  was 
caught  by  the  inscription  on  the  golden  casket :  "Who 
chooseth  me  shall  gain  what  many  men  desire."  In  his 
argument  before  choosing,  he  showed  clearly  that  what 
he  desired  was  the  great  wealth  of  Portia,  as  typified 
in  the  golden  casket.  Instead  of  what  he  expected,  he 
found  only  "a  carrion  death,"  and  a  written  scroll  that 
reminded  him  that  he  had  been  guided  by  avarice  to 
choose  for  gain. 

Little  better,  if  any,  was  the  choice  of  the  Prince  of 
Arragon,  who  was  taken  by  the  inscription  on  the 
silver  casket:  "Who  chooseth  me  shall  get  as  much  as 
he  deserves."  Then  in  his  arrogant  self-conceit  and 
pride  he  felt  sure  that  it  was  he  who  deserved  the  noble 
Portia :  "I  will  assume  my  desert."  And  he  opened  the 
silver  casket  only  to  find  "the  portrait  of  a  blinking 
idiot,"  to  suggest  to  him  his  true  worth,  and  to  assure 
him  that  only  fools  boast  of  their  deserts. 

Bassanio,  however,  who  had  already  won  the  love 
of  Portia,  came  with  a  different  motive,  and  chose  the 
leaden  casket  with  the  inscription:  "Who  chooseth  me 
must  give  and  hazard  all  he  hath."  His  love  for  Portia 
was  so  genuine  and  so  intense  that  he  was  willing  to 


The  Merchant  of  Venice  153 

risk  all  to  win  her.  The  pure  love  he  bore  her  made 
him  the  only  one  worthy  of  her.  He  could  not  lose 
on  these  conditions,  for  the  inscriptions  were  of  such 
a  character  that  the  false  must  lose  and  the  true 
must  win.  There  was  no  accident  about  the  choice, 
but  it  was  the  outcome  of  a  moral  necessity.  The 
ingenious  scheme  of  her  father  was,  therefore,  vin- 
dicated, and  Bassanio  became  the  happy  husband  of 
the  lovely  Portia.  No  wonder  the  daughter  of  a  father 
so  clever  should  herself  prove  ingenious  in  the  subse- 
quent defence  of  her  husband's  friend. 

While  to  all  outward  appearance  the  two  contending 
parties  to  the  loan  are  now  at  peace,  these  relation- 
ships are  presently  again  disturbed.  The  conflict, 
however,  is  deep  but  not  irreconcilable.  The  mar- 
riage of  Jessica  and  Lorenzo,  which  soon  follows,  not 
only  re-awakens  strife,  but  also  points  out  the  manner 
of  the  ultimate  reconciliation.  By  this  marriage  of 
Jew  and  Christian  the  dramatist  announces  his  belief 
in  the  fundamental  oneness  of  the  two  races,  and  sug- 
gests that  love  can  reconcile  all  their  conflicts.  Love 
leaps  all  barriers.  Even  the  conflict  of  Christian  and 
Jew  is  not  due  to  any  primary  antagonism  in  human 
nature,  but  to  prejudices  and  accidental  differences. 
Shylock  and  Antonio  are  not  natural  enemies,  and 
need  only  the  gift  of  love  to  overcome  their  differences. 
The  dramatist,  as  in  the  case  of  Romeo  and  Juliet,  sets 
out  to  reconcile  the  apparently  irreconcilable.  Know- 
ing the  heart  of  man  as  no  other  writer  of  all  time 
he  is  the  one  that  has  most  faith  in  human  nature. 

Shylock's  pretence  of  reconciliation  appears  in  its 
true  light  when  the  time  draws  near  for  Antonio  to 
pay  the  loan.  The  reported  loss  of  all  Antonio's  ships 
gives  Shylock  an  excuse  to  clamor  for  his  money. 


154  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

When  he  finds  the  merchant  cannot  pay,  denying  all 
pleas  for  an  extension  of  time,  he  causes  him  to  be 
arrested,  and  appeals  to  the  Court  for  permission  to 
collect  the  forfeit  of  his  bond,  "a  pound  of  flesh." 
With  this  his  real  purpose  of  taking  the  life  of  some 
of  his  enemies  is  revealed.  The  Christians  had  never 
really  trusted  Shylock,  in  spite  of  his  apparent  readi- 
ness to  forget  the  past  and  be  friends.  But  they  had 
felt  secure  in  the  many  ships  Antonio  had  upon  the 
seas,  for  if  even  one  came  home  in  time  they  could 
discharge  the  loan,  and,  as  Antonio  assured  Bassanio, 
they  were  all  due  "a  month  before  the  day."  In  the 
calamitous  failure  of  all  the  ships,  however,  Shylock 
found  his  opportunity  to  revenge  his  "ancient  grudge" 
upon  Antonio. 

In  the  failure  of  all  Antonio's  ships  and  in  his 
consequent  inability  to  meet  the  bond,  Shylock  findfc 
his  opportunity.  After  the  arrest,  he  pushes  his  suit 
with  all  haste  and  as  speedily  as  possible  brings  the 
matter  before  the  law.  He  feels  perfect  confidence  in 
the  validity  of  his  bond,  and  awaits  only  the  verdict  of 
the  court  to  cut  off  his  pound  of  flesh  and  take  the 
life  of  the  hated  Antonio.  But  as  an  alien  he  did  not 
thoroughly  understand  the  law  of  the  dramatist's 
Venice,  and  did  not  comprehend  its  moral  principles. 

VI 

The  Trial  Scene,  deservedly  one  of  the  most  popu- 
lar in  Shakespeare,  is  also  one  of  the  deepest  and  fullest 
in  meaning.  Into  this  scene  the  dramatist  has  con- 
densed all  his  thought  on  the  great  contest  of  Chris- 
tianity and  Judaism,  which  through  all  the  centuries 
has  remained  unsettled.  It  is  needless  to  say  that 


The  Merchant  of  Venice  155 

Shakespeare  does  not  treat  these  religions  as  dogmatic 
systems  of  theology — with  which  a  dramatist  has  noth- 
ing to  do — but  as  practical  systems  or  codes  of  moral 
principles.  His  interest  is  in  their  moral  and  spiritual 
values,  and  it  is  only  as  such  that  they  are  on  trial  in 
the  Court  Scene. 

In  the  Trial  which  Shylock  has  invoked  we  begin  to 
feel  sure  that  the  conflict  between  the  two  men  is  no 
longer  a  mere  personal  matter,  but  has  become  a 
conflict  of  their  religions  and  of  the  methods  of  business 
that  have  grown  out  of  their  religions.  Shylock  would 
seem  now  to  regard  himself  as  the  representative  and 
avenger  of  his  people,  and  takes  upon  himself  the 
burden  of  avenging  the  centuries  of  cruelty  and  scorn 
that  had  been  heaped  upon  his  people.  He  very  gladly 
assumes  this  role  of  representative,  and  gloats  over  the 
opportunity  of  "bettering  the  instruction"  of  the 
Christians.  As  Antonio  likewise  considered  himself  the 
representative  of  the  Christians  in  the  dealings  with 
the  Jew,  both  men  are  representative  of  their  races, 
of  their  religions,  and  of  their  mutual  animosities. 
They  represent,  then,  not  only  the  personal  attitudes 
of  two  men  of  different  religions,  but  the  religions 
themselves.  By  appealing  to  the  Court  Shylock  has 
made  real  the  conflict  of  the  two  religions,  and  has 
made  comparison  inevitable.  But  with  that  insight 
which  is  always  his  chief  characteristic,  Shakespeare 
has  contrived  a  situation  in  which  it  is  not  the  dog- 
matic theologies  of  the  two  religions  that  come  to  trial, 
but  their  practical  systems  and  codes  of  moral  prin- 
ciples. It  is  only  the  moral  and  spiritual  values  of 
the  two  religions  that  are  brought  to  trial  in  the  Court 
Scene. 

Shylock's  refusal  to  accept  the  full  amount  of  the 


156  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

bond  when  proffered  him  in  Court  reveals  a  thirst  for 
revenge  and  not  a  mere  desire  for  justice,  as  he  pre- 
tends. The  unworthiness  of  his  motive  is  further  dis- 
closed when  he  declines  twice  the  amount,  and  then 
thrice,  with  the  same  unhesitating  scornfulness.  He 
steadfastly  declines  all  but  the  forfeiture,  the  pound  of 
flesh,  to  be  cut  off,  as  he  says,  "nearest  the  merchant's 
heart."  He  is  bent  on  having  the  penalty  and  forfeit 
of  his  bond,  for  with  that  must  go  the  life  of  Antonio, 
for  whom  he  acknowledges  "a  lodged  hate  and  a  certain 
loathing." 

Every  conceivable  inducement  was  brought  to  bear 
upon  Shylock  to  extend  mercy  to  Antonio,  and  not  to 
push  his  bond  to  the  point  of  claiming  the  forfeiture. 
The  first  speech  of  the  Duke  after  Shylock  entered  the 
Court  was  a  plea  for  him  to  show  "human  gentleness 
and  love."  Portia  likewise,  whom  the  successful  cul- 
mination of  the  love  story  of  the  caskets  had  provided 
as  a  champion  for  Antonio,  begs  him  to  "be  merci- 
ful." In  her  fine  speech  on  "the  quality  of  mercy"  she 
vainly  urges  upon  the  Jew  the  necessity  of  mercy 
between  man  and  man,  as  between  God  and  man.  She 
discloses  the  limitations  of  justice  as  a  rule  of  life  by 
citing  the  fact  that  it  cannot  be  universally  adopted. 
We  all  need  to  receive  mercy,  she  nobly  says,  for  "in 
the  course  of  justice,  none  of  us  should  see  salva- 
tion." She  further  presses  upon  him  the  petitions  of 
the  Christian  prayer  which  teaches  us  when  we  pray 
for  mercy  to  render  also  the  deeds  of  mercy.  All 
these  admonitions  Shylock  impatiently  repudiates,  ex- 
rlaiming : 

"My  deeds  upon  my  head,  I  crave  the  law, 
The  penalty  and  forfeit  of  my  bond." 

(IV.  i.  216-7.) 


The  Merchant  of  Venice  157 

He  stands  firm  upon  the  law  of  justice,  thinking  him- 
self on  safe  ground,  for  as  he  had  earlier  said,  "What 
judgment  shall  I  fear,  doing  no  wrong?"  The  drama 
becomes  now  a  study  of  the  adequacy  of  Justice  and 
Mercy  as  rival  principles  for  the  government  of  human 
relations.  These  two  principles,  then,  are  brought  to 
trial  in  the  play,  the  former  as  the  moral  principle  of 
Judaism,  and  the  latter  as  the  moral  principle  of 
Christianity. 

These  two  religions  had  been  similarly  interpreted 
by  Christ  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount :  "Ye  have  heard 
that  it  hath  been  said,  An  eye  for  an  eye,  and  «.  tooth 
for  a  tooth:  But  I  say  unto  you,  That  ye  resist  not 
evil :  but  whosoever  shall  smite  thee  on  thy  right  cheek, 
turn  to  him  the  other  also."  Justice,  or  the  principle 
of  "an  eye  for  an  eye,"  is  denounced  as  a  principle  of 
life ;  and  Mercy,  or  giving  more  than  you  must,  is 
substituted.  Life  is  larger  than  law,  and  morality 
than  legality.  This  has  long  been  recognized,  as  in  the 
old  expression,  summun  jus,  summa  injuria. 

The  two  contestants  are  not  to  be  understood  as 
personal  embodiments  of  the  principles  they  represent. 
Shylock  had  not  been  throughout  his  life  all  for  justice 
nor  Antonio  all  for  mercy.  The  Jew  had  been  better 
than  his  law  and  the  Christian  worse  than  his.  But 
they  have  professed  these  principles,  and  have  in  ex- 
tremities made  their  appeals  to  them.  Hence,  it  is  the 
principles  as  well  as  the  men  that  are  on  trial.  The 
play,  then,  develops  from  a  conflict  of  persons  to  a 
contest  of  representative  individuals,  each  standing  for 
the  ideal  of  the  religion  he  professes.  Portia's  elo- 
quent contrast  of  Justice  and  Mercy,  and  the  final  de- 
feat of  Shylock,  can  only  be  understood  as  the  drama- 
tist's declaration  in  favor  of  the  principle  of  Mercy, 


158  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

or  a  verdict  for  the  Christian  ethics. 

The  persistent  refusal  of  Shylock  to  yield  to  these 
strong  entreaties  serves  to  draw  out  the  many  re- 
sources of  Portia  in  her  effort  to  save  her  husband's 
friend.  The  Court  cannot  compel  mercy,  for  it  is  a 
principle  of  conduct,  not  of  law.  Herein  is  shown  the 
limitation  of  "law"  as  an  expression  of  ethical  prin- 
ciples. The  decision  of  the  Court  must  be  strictly 
legal,  and  judgment  is  pronounced  in  favor  of  Shylock. 
He  is  at  once  reminded,  however,  by  Portia  that  his 
bond  calls  for  only  "flesh";  and  he  is  informed  that  if 
he  shed  "one  drop  of  Christian  blood"  his  lands  and 
goods  will  be  "confiscate  unto  the  State  of  Venice." 
Again,  he  is  told  that  if  he  takes  more  than  just  a 
pound  of  flesh,  he  must  himself  die,  since  his  bond  calls 
for  "a  just  pound,"  no  more  and  no  less.  Further,  he 
is  told  that  because  he  has  contrived  against  the  life 
of  a  citizen  he  has  forfeited  his  own  life,  which  lies 
now  at  the  mercy  of  the  Duke  only. 

At  this  juncture  the  Christian  principle  of  mercy 
that  Shylock  has  scornfully  rejected  as  a  guide  to  his 
own  conduct  comes  to  his  rescue  and  intervenes  to  save 
his  life.  His  extreme  predicament  instantly  humbles 
his  proud  spirit,  and  the  Duke  at  once  seizes  the 
opportunity  to  say, 

"That  thou  shalt  see  the  difference  of  our  spirit, 
I  pardon  thee  thy  life  before  thou  ask  it." 

(IV.  i.  385-6.) 

Shylock  as  quickly  avails  himself  of  the  interposition 
of  the  principle  he  had  so  recently  scorned,  and  his 
life  is  saved.  But  in  accepting  the  mercy  of  the  Duke, 
the  Jew  tacitly  acknowledges  the  complete  defeat  of  his 
own  principle  as  a  moral  code.  He  was  conscientious, 
however,  in  holding  to  his  code  until  he  saw  it  de- 


The  Merchant  of  Venice  159 

stroyed.  His  principle  had  had  a  most  severe  test, 
and  its  failure  disclosed  its  defects  and  the  superiority 
of  its  rival. 


vn 

Much  criticism  has  been  offered  upon  Shakespeare's 
conduct  of  the  Court  Scene,  as  it  seems  entirely  out  of 
accord  with  English  practice  and  English  legal  pro- 
cedure. Neither  judge,  nor  plaintiff,  nor  defendant, 
nor  counsel,  seem  to  conduct  themselves  as  in  an  Eng- 
lish court,  and  the  verdict  seems  a  travesty  of  justice. 
The  judge  seems  to  be  counsel  for  the  defense,  the 
plaintiff  seems  to  be  his  own  counsel,  and  the  counsel 
for  the  defendant  seems  to  pass  the  judgment  of  the 
Court.  This  seeming  irregularity  continued  to  be  con- 
fusing and  at  times  disconcerting  to  critics,  until  1886, 
when,  in  a  letter  to  The  Overland  Monthly,  Mr.  John 
T.  Doyle  made  it  known  that  the  procedure  of  the 
Court  of  Venice  was  the  same  as  had  survived  to  that 
day  in  some  of  the  Latin  Republics  of  South  America. 
Mr.  Doyle  relates  at  some  length  his  experience  in 
the  law  courts  of  Nicaragua,  and  then  says:  "With 
this  experience,  I  read  the  case  of  Shylock  over  again, 
and  understood  it  better.  It  was  plain  that  the  sort 
of  procedure  Shakespeare  had  in  view,  and  attributed 
to  the  Venetian  court,  was  exactly  that  of  my  recent 
experience.  The  Trial  Scene  opens  on  the  day  ap- 
pointed for  hearing  judgment;  the  facts  had  been 
ascertained  at  a  previous  session,  and  Bellario  had  been 
selected  as  the  jurist  to  determine  the  law  applicable 
to  them.  The  case  had  been  submitted  to  him  in  writ- 
ing, and  the  Court  was  awaiting  his  decision.  The 
defendant,  when  the  case  is  called,  answers  as  is  done 


160  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

daily  in  our  own  courts:  'Ready,  so  please  your 
Grace.'  '  Continuing,  Mr.  Doyle  draws  the  parallel 
still  further  between  the  two  cases,  in  the  matter  of 
procedure,  making  it  quite  clear  that  Shakespeare  was 
following  a  well-known  and  established  form  of  pro- 
cedure, and  not  devising  one  of  his  own.  It  is  the 
usual  thing  to  find  at  last  that  Shakespeare  does  not 
need  to  be  rewritten,  but  only  to  be  understood.1 

A  much  more  serious  charge  is  made  against  the 
dramatist,  however,  when  it  is  asserted  that  in  the 
Trial  Scene  the  law  is  perverted  in  favor  of  Antonio 
and  to  the  discomfiture  of  Shylock.  It  has  been  held 
by  Campbell  and  others  that  Portia's  interpretation  of 
the  law  is  nothing  but  a  legal  quibble,  and  that  Shy- 
lock  is  condemned  only  on  a  perverted  construction  of 
a  plain  contract.  Any  court,  it  is  said,  would  grant 
whatever  is  necessarily  and  inseparably  connected  with 
a  main  judgment  rendered.  If  blood  is  unavoidably 
shed  in  cutting  out  a  pound  of  flesh,  then  any  court 
that  would  permit  flesh  to  be  taken  would  also  allow 
blood  to  be  shed.  If,  for  instance,  a  man  buys  a 
number  of  loads  of  gravel  from  his  neighbor,  he  is 
allowed  to  leave  a  hole  in  his  neighbor's  field,  even  if 
that  neighbor  should  some  day  kill  himself  by  falling 
into  it.  The  English  law  of  Shakespeare's  day,  and 
for  a  long  time  afterwards,  permitted  debtors  to  be 
put  to  death  for  non-payment.  Shylock,  then,  it  is 
said,  should  have  been  allowed  to  claim  the  penalty 
of  his  bond,  with  all  that  pertained  thereto.  To  deny 
him  this  was  to  wrest  the  law  from  its  course,  and  to 

1For  Mr.  Doyle's  article,  entitled  "Shakespeare's  Law — The 
Case  of  Shylock,"  cf.  The  Overland  Monthly,  for  July,  1886. 
For  a  summary  of  the  article,  cf.  Furness's  Variorum  Edition  of 
The  Merchant  of  Venice,  pp.  417-420. 


The  Merchant  of  Venice  161 

bend  it  to  the  peril  of   Shylock — and  all  because  he 
was  a  Jew.1 

This  phase  of  the  case  has  been  most  ably  and  fully 
treated  by  Judge  Nathaniel  Holmes,  in  The  Western 
Galaxy  for  April,  1888,  a  paper  that  has  escaped  not 
only  the  keen  eye  of  Dr.  Furness,  but  most  of  the  other 
critics  of  Shakespeare  as  well.  By  ample  quotations 
Judge  Holmes  shows  that  Shakespeare  conducted  the 
legal  phase  of  the  Trial  Scene  in  strict  accordance  with 
the  theory  and  practice  of  English  law,  which  always 
considered  the  equity  as  well  as  the  strict  law  in  a 
case.  In  a  case  of  the  year  1615,  about  twenty  years 
after  Shakespeare's  play,  cited  by  Judge  Holmes,  the 
King's  speech,  prepared  by  the  Attorney  General,  Sir 
Francis  Bacon,  expressly  declares  in  a  comparison  of 
the  English  with  other  courts  of  law,  that  "it  [the 
English]  exceeds  the  other  courts,  mixing  mercy  with 
justice,  where  the  other  courts  proceed  only  according 
to  strict  rules  of  law;  and  where  the  rigour  of  the 
law  in  many  cases  will  undo  a  subject,  then  the  Chan- 
cery tempers  the  law  with  equity,  and  so  mixeth  mercy 
with  justice  as  it  preserves  men  from  destruction," — 
the  very  legal  doctrine  enunciated  by  Portia  in  her 
great  speech  on  "the  quality  of  mercy."  It  becomes 
clear  from  this  that  while  the  dramatist  followed  the 
Latin  form  of  procedure  as  would  be  expected  in  a 
Venetian  court,  he  nevertheless  intended  to  settle  the 
case  of  "Shylock  versus  Antonio"  in  strict  accordance 
with  the  theory  of  English  law  and  with  the  spirit 

1  Cf.  Campbell,  quoted  by  Furness,  p.  405.  By  way  of  answer 
to  this  criticism  Professor  Moulton  remarks  that  "the  suitor  who 
rests  his  cause  on  a  whim  cannot  complain  if  it  is  upset  by  a 
quibble."  (Shakespeare  as  a  Dramatic  Artist.)  But  this  does 
not  meet  the  issue,  for  Shylock  did  not  rest  his  cause  on  a  whim, 
and  Portia  did  not  upset  it  on  a  quibble. 


162  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

of  English  practice,  by  tempering  justice  with  mercy. 
The  poet  apparently  conceived  his  Christian  and  moral 
principle  of  "mercy"  to  be  nothing  but  the  English 
legal  principle  of  "equity"  in  another  form.1 

It  cannot,  therefore,  be  claimed  that  the  verdict  of 
the  court  was  technically  unsound,  but  only  that  it 
introduced  the  principle  of  equity,  apparently  unknown 
in  Venetian  law,  but  with  which  Shakespeare  was  quite 
familiar  in  English  law.  This  worked  no  injustice  to 
Shylock,  and  in  no  way  injured  his  case,  for  if  it  was 
invoked  in  the  first  instance  to  save  the  life  of  Antonio, 
it  was  also  later  invoked  to  save  his  own.  The  appli- 
cation cannot  be  claimed  as  wholly  in  favor  of  Antonio, 
for  in  both  instances  alike  the  law  was  set  aside  by  the 
law,  in  the  larger  interests  of  equity.  Shakespeare, 
in  accordance  with  English  legal  theory,  recognizes 
that  the  law  is  always  in  danger  from  itself,  and  that 
the  law  must  ideally  be  made  to  work  out  the  Right, 
even  if  in  so  doing  it  discredits  itself.  In  his  dramatic 
world,  at  least,  Shakespeare  is  free  to  show  that  mercy 
is  of  more  moment  than  legality,  for  it  is  an  ethical 
demand. 

Shylock,  therefore,  in  the  play  suffers  no  injustice, 
for  he  had  been  offered  his  principal,  together  with 
twice  the  amount  for  any  damage  he  might  have  sus- 
tained from  the  delay.  In  the  face  of  his  refusal  to 
accept  this  proffered  payment  of  his  bond,  together 
with  twice  the  amount  as  penalty,  no  further  or  no 
other  penalty  could  be  legally  or  justly  demanded. 
The  pound  of  flesh  was  only  a  penalty  for  non-pay- 
ment, and  could  not  be  demanded  in  place  of  the  prof- 

luShylock's  Case,"  by  Judge  Nathaniel  Holmes,  in  The  West- 
ern Galaxy,  published  in  Salt  Lake  City,  Vol.  I,  No.  2,  pp.  209- 
217,  April,  1888. 


The  Merchant  of  Venice  163 

fered  money.  As  Judge  Holmes  remarks,  "By  the 
strict  rule  of  common  law,  the  day  of  payment  having 
passed,  the  bond  was  forfeited,  and  the  penalty  was 
due ;  but  by  English  equity  the  penalty  was  regarded 
as  a  security,  and  when  the  party  was  ready  to  pay 
the  principal,  with  interest  by  way  of  compensation 
for  the  delay,  the  plaintiff  was  bound  to  take  it,  or 
have  nothing:  the  defendant  was  relieved  against  the 
penalty  only." 

By  this  law,  if  this  were  all,  Shylock  might  yet  have 
his  principal,  and  end  the  case.  He  therefore  says, 
"Give  me  my  principal  and  let  me  go."  But  that  was 
not  all  the  law.  Having  invoked  justice  and  the  law, 
he  must  abide  by  the  law  to  the  end.  He  cannot  re- 
ject the  instrument  he  has  invoked,  as  soon  as  he  finds 
it  reacting  against  him.  It  is  the  privilege  of  the 
defendant  to  hold  to  the  umpire  chosen,  and  Portia 
proceeds  to  call  up  other  laws  of  which  Shylock  seems 
to  have  been  ignorant.  She  shows  that  by  the  law 
Shylock's  attempts  on  Antonio's  life  have  made  his  own 
life  forfeit.  She  does  not,  however,  press  this  law  to 
his  undoing,  but  immediately  invokes  in  Shylock's  be- 
half the  same  principle  of  equity,  or  mercy,  by  which 
she  had  previously  saved  Antonio.  According  to  the 
law,  the  matter  now  lies  with  the  Duke,  and  he  at  once 
pardons  Shylock's  life  before  he  asks  it,  thereby  show- 
ing, as  he  says,  "the  difference  of  our  spirit."  By  this 
he  means  that  he  will  show  the  Christian  spirit  in 
dealing  with  the  Jew. 

It  is  Antonio,  however,  who  exacts  what  has  seemed 
to  many  the  hardest  conditions.  The  same  law  that 
made  Shylock's  life  forfeit  also  gives  to  Antonio  half 
of  Shylock's  goods.  Part  of  these  Antonio  at  once 

^'Shylock's  Case,"  p.  211. 


164  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

restores  to  him  on  condition  that  he,  immediately  be- 
come  a  Christian, — the  hardest  of  all  things  for  Shy- 
lock.  It  means  that  he  must  renounce  not  only  his 
Jewish  faith,  but  also  his  methods  of  business,  for 
usury  was  forbidden  by  both  Christian  belief  and 
practice.  This  condition,  it  should  be  remembered, 
was  not  in  the  original  story,  but  was  added  by  Shake- 
speare himself.  It  was  the  dramatist  who  demanded 
that  "He  presently  become  a  Christian."  This  has 
been  considered  very  unjust,  and  as  Ten  Brink  says, 
"It  is  only  against  his  being  forced  to  become  a  con- 
vert that  our  feelings  justly  rebel."  *  Yet  it  was  a 
common  enough  occurrence  in  those  days  to  compel 
Jews  to  become  Christians,  and  by  adopting  it  the 
dramatist  indicates  that  under  the  conditions  Shylock 
might  fairly  be  called  upon  to  accept  baptism.  To 
this  the  Jew  feebly  consents,  and  at  once  requests 
permission  to  leave  the  court,  alleging  only,  "I  am  not 
well."  The  illness  was,  of  course,  in  his  spirit,  and 
was  caused  by  his  complete  discomfiture  in  his  suit 
against  Antonio.  The  demand  to  become  a  Christian 
had  been  the  last  straw  to  break  his  spirit,  and  he  left 
the  court  in  humble  submission.  This  has  been  con- 
sidered the  crowning  injustice  of  a  very  unjust  trial, 
but  as  Shylock  preferred  it  to  the  law  he  had  invoked 
and  to  the  loss  of  his  life,  it  need  not  be  regarded  as 
completely  intolerable. 

A  great  deal  of  sympathy  has  been  wasted  upon 
Shylock  by  two  classes  of  people.  One  of  these  always 
sympathizes  with  the  vanquished,  whether  victim  or 
criminal,  and  the  other  class  has  overlooked  some  of 

*Five   Lectures   on   Shakespeare,  by   Ten    Brink;   Eng.   trans, 
by  Julia  Franklin,  p.  190;  New  York,  Holt,  1895. 


The  Merchant  of  Venice  165 

the  elements  in  the  situation.1  It  should  be  kept  in 
mind  that  the  Christians  were  face  to  face  with  a  very 
difficult  problem.  One  of  their  number  had  been  in 
danger  from  a  Jew  who  had  tried  as  a  penalty  for  a 
loan  to  take  the  Christian's  life.  It  was  now  fully  real- 
ized that  Shylock  was  trying  to  "feed  fat  the  ancient 
grudge"  he  bore  Antonio.  The  reason  of  this  grudge 
was  also  now  seen  to  be  chiefly  the  fact  that  in  lending 
out  money  gratis,  according  to  the  Christian  principle 
and  practice  in  the  matter,  Antonio  had  incurred  the 
implacable  hatred  of  Shylock,  the  money-lender.  The 
Court  had  turned  the  tables  on  the  Jew,  who  had  saved 
his  life  only  by  accepting  from  the  Christians  the  very 
mercy  that  he  had  been  so  unwilling  to  give. 

It  was  but  natural,  then,  that  the  Christians  should 
demand  some  guarantee  from  Shylock  that  the  next 
time  he  got  Antonio  or  any  other  Christian  in  his 
danger  he  would  show  the  same  mercy  that  was  now 
saving  his  own  life.  It  was  simply  a  measure  of  self- 
defence.  If  mercy  is  a  good  thing  to  get,  it  is  an  equally 
good  thing  to  give.  It  is  not  fair  to  run  with  the 
hare  and  hunt  with  the  hounds.  If  Shylock  is  now  to 
benefit  by  the  Christian  principle  of  mercy,  it  must 
be  on  the  condition  that  in  future  cases  he  will  also 
give  the  same  benefit  to  others.  There  is  a  golden 
rule  even  for  Jews.  If  he  repudiates  the  justice  of 
Judaism  and  accepts  the  mercy  of  Christianity,  in 
order  to  save  his  own  life,  he  must  give  assurance 
that  he  will  remain  a  Christian,  and  in  all  future  con- 
flicts will  bestow  the  "mercy"  of  Christianity.  He 
cannot  be  a  Christian  in  accepting  mercy,  and  turn 
round  and  be  a  Jew  in  demanding  justice.  He  must  be 
either  all  Jew  or  all  Christian,  and  he  must  now  take 

*Cf.  Brandes,  op.  cit.  p.  165. 


166  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

his  choice  once  and  for  all. 

The  only  way  that  mediaeval  Christians  could  see 
to  accomplish  this  purpose  was  to  demand  of  Shylock 
that  he  formally  accept  baptism.  It  is  very  true  that 
to  us  there  might  be  other  ways  of  drawing  the  fangs 
of  Shylock  and  of  guaranteeing  consistency,  but  to 
them  there  was  no  other  way.  They  knew  of  only 
two  creeds,  two  religions,  and  two  moral  codes, — 
the  Jewish  and  the  Christian.  They  did  not  dis- 
tinguish between  the  creed  and  the  ethics  of  Christian- 
ity, and  to  assure  themselves  that  Shylock  should 
adopt  the  practice  of  Christianity,  they  compelled  him 
to  accept  its  creeds  and  its  forms.  As  a  guarantee 
that  henceforth  Shylock  should  live  according  to  their 
principles,  they  obliged  him  to  be  baptized.  Antonio 
was  certainly  justified  in  putting  Shylock  under  bonds 
to  be  more  merciful  the  next  time  he  had  a  Christian 
in  his  power;  and  the  only  way  he  knew  to  accomplish 
this  was  to  require  him  formally  to  become  a  Christian. 
And  this  is  also  sufficient  justification  for  the  dramatist. 

The  closing  words  of  Judge  Holmes,  in  the  article 
previously  cited,  seem  appropriate  at  this  point :  "And, 
on  the  whole,  we  have  a  strong  conviction  that  the 
imaginary  Jew  of  the  Middle  Ages  (as  the  mythical 
type  of  him  had  become  fixed  in  the  popular  mind  of 
that  age),  not  merely  as  Jew,  but  as  another  name  for 
the  unconscionable  usurer  and  soulless  money-getter  of 
all  sects  and  ages,  really  got  his  deserts  from  first  to 
last  at  the  hands  of  both  judge  and  poet,  and  that 
the  ideal  judge  intended  to  teach  the  ideal  Jew  that 
there  was  in  the  poet's  Venice  both  law  and  equity, 
that  strict  law  was  not  always  justice,  and  that  it 
was  better  for  all  men  to  season  justice  with  mercy 
than  to  contrive  a  wicked  fraud,  in  a  relentless  spirit 


The  Merchant  of  Venice  167 

of  revenge,  against  an  unsuspecting  debtor,  under  pre- 
tence of  kindness  and  under  cover  of  getting  a  security, 
but  really  intending  to  take  his  life  under  color  of 
law,  but  contrary  to  law,  justice  and  mercy — as  the 
Duke  said — 

'A  stony  adversary,  an  inhuman  wretch, 
Uncapable  of  pity,  void,  and  empty 
From  any  dram  of  mercy. ' >: 

(IV.  i.  6-8.) 


vm 

The  fifth  act  of  the  play  has  been  generally  mis- 
understood. These  words  from  Brandes  fairly  ex- 
press the  common  mistake:  "Shylock  disappears  with 
the  end  of  the  fourth  act  in  order  that  no  discord  may 
mar  the  harmony  of  the  concluding  scenes.  By  means 
of  his  fifth  act,  Shakespeare  dissipates  any  preponder- 
ance of  pain  and  gloom  in  the  general  impression  of 
the  play."  1  Rather,  as  The  Merchant  of  Venice  is 
primarily  the  story  of  Antonio  and  his  friends, 
it  was  necessary  for  the  dramatist  to  present  clearly 
the  completed  love  of  Bassanio  and  Portia  that  had 
been  the  means  of  the  triumph  of  Antonio  in  the  Trial 
Scene.  In  blending  the  two  stories  of  the  Caskets  and 
the  Bond  the  dramatist  had  undertaken  to  work  out 
a  better  and  larger  purpose  for  love  than  was  con- 
tained in  the  old  story.  In  the  fourth  act  love  had 
triumphed  in  Portia's  deliverance  of  Antonio,  and  with 
the  close  of  this  act  the  play  passes  beyond  the  point 
of  highest  passion.  But  the  beautiful  and  harmonious 
fifth  act  is  necessary  to  complete  the  meaning  of  the 
play  as  a  whole,  by  depicting  the  culmination  of  all 
the  love  stories  of  the  earlier  part. 

*Op.  cit.  p.  167. 


168  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

The  success  of  Bassanio's  quest  for  Portia's  love 
had  provided  a  champion  for  his  sorely  pressed  friend 
and  bondsman,  Antonio,  and  had  become  the  means 
whereby  he  was  released  from  impending  death  through 
the  forfeiture  of  his  bond.  The  legal  skill  of  Bassa- 
nio's wife  has  repaid  many  times  the  value  of  the  money 
Antonio  had  expended  on  fitting  out  the  expedition 
to  Belmont.  Portia's  love  for  her  husband  had  urged 
her  to  come  to  the  rescue  of  his  friend  and  had  inspired 
her  to  use  her  best  endeavors  on  his  behalf. 

Shakespeare,  therefore,  was  not  content  to  close  the 
story  of  Bassanio  and  Portia  without  depicting  their 
completed  love  after  the  trying  time  of  the  Trial  Scene. 
To  him  love  exists  not  for  its  enjoyment  or  its  beauty, 
but  for  its  moral  and  spiritual  value  and  for  its  social 
uses.  After  portraying,  then,  with  exquisite  taste 
the  beautiful  Caskets  Scene  and  showing  the  self-aban- 
doning love  of  Bassanio  for  the  fair  Portia,  he  left  the 
love  story  until  he  had  depicted  the  triumph  of  love 
in  Portia's  efforts  in  behalf  of  her  husband's  friend 
in  his  danger  from  Shylock. 

But  now  that  love  has  discharged  its  function  in  the 
rescue  of  Antonio  and  even  in  the  sparing  of  the  life 
of  Shylock,  the  dramatist  once  more  returns  to  the  love 
story  and  gives  us  pictures  of  the  happiness  of  the  lov- 
ers themselves.  The  exquisite  moonlight  scene  depicts 
the  perfect  love  and  happiness  of  Lorenzo  and  his 
lovely  Jessica,  and  the  beautiful  comedy  of  the  rings 
reveals  in  a  most  striking  manner  the  noble  part  of 
Portia  in  the  release  of  Antonio.  Nothing  could  have 
served  more  admirably  to  enhance  Bassanio's  love  for 
Portia,  or  to  assure  him  that  his  love  was  fully  recip- 
rocated. The  element  of  romance  in  their  love  has  been 
absorbed  into  the  great  reality  of  complete  devotion 


The  Merchant  of  Venice  169 

in  a  very  great  emergency.  Their  love  has  now  been 
tried  and  been  found  true.  These  delightful  scenes  of 
the  fifth  act,  then,  are  not  only  welcome  distractions, 
as  Professor  Raleigh  says,  but  are  necessary  to  the 
completion  of  the  love  stories  of  the  earlier  part  of 
the  play. 

This  happy  culmination  of  all  the  stories  of  the  play 
seems  to  be  an  attempt  of  the  dramatist  to  depict  his 
conception  that  love  is  the  true  and  indeed  the  only 
reconciler  of  all  our  human  conflicts.  Love  has  solved 
all  the  conflicts  of  the  play.  The  love  of  Bassanio  and 
Portia  and  their  united  love  for  Antonio,  on  the  one 
hand,  and  the  love  of  Lorenzo  and  Jessica,  on  the  other, 
suggest  that  all  such  conflicts  may  be  reconciled  un- 
der the  sweet  and  holy  influences  of  love.  Many  of  the 
differences  among  men  are  due  to  misunderstandings, 
not  to  inherent  antagonisms,  and  may  be  overcome  by 
love.  This  conclusion  of  the  play,  then,  presents  as  do 
all  the  closing  scenes  of  Shakespeare's  plays  a  full  and 
final  solution  of  the  conflict  of  the  drama. 


OTHELLO: 

THE  TRAGEDY  OF  A  MOOR  IN  VENICE 


CHAPTER  IV 
OTHELLO: 

THE    TRAGEDY    OF    A    MOOR    IN    VENICE 


FEW  of  the  plays  of  Shakespeare  have  from  the 
first  excited  more  intense  interest  among  both 
theatre-goers  and  readers  than  the  sad  story  of 
Othello  and  his  life  in  Venice.  The  •  nature  of  the 
Moor's  difficulties  and  the  deep  pathos  of  his  catastro- 
phe have  brought  the  play  closer  to  the  lives  and  bos- 
oms of  men  than  any  other  of  the  great  tragedies.  The 
general  excellence  of  the  character  of  Othello,  the  noble 
Moor,  and  of  Desdemona,  the  fair  maid  of  Venice,  to- 
gether with  the  distressing  nature  of  their  marital  con- 
flict have  made  Othello  the  most  heart-rending  and  the 
most  moving  of  all  the  tragedies  of  Shakespeare.  Many 
persons  who  can  observe  with  comparative  calmness  the 
awful  conflict  of  aged  father  and  ungrateful,  ambi- 
tious daughters  in  King  Lear  are  almost  overcome  by 
the  appalling  sadness  of  Othello's  mistrust  and  murder 
of  his  young  and  beautiful  wife.  The  passion  of  Othel- 
ta  seems  more  titanic,  and  the  conflict  more  vital  and] 
elemental  than  that  of  King  Lear.  The  ruin  of  filial 
relationships  seems  less  a  tragedy  than  the  overthrow 
and  failure  of  the  marital  relationship,  and  the  fate 
that  befalls  Desdemona  even  less  deserved  than  that 
which  befalls  Cordelia.  Professor  Bradley  has  truly 

173 


174  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

said,  "There  is  no  subject  more  exciting  than  sexual 
jealousy  rising  to  the  pitch  of  passion;  and  there  can 
hardly  be  any  spectacle  at  once  so  engrossing  and  so 
painful  as  that  of  a  great  nature  suffering  the  torment 
of  this  passion,  and  driven  by  it  to  a  crime  which  is 
also  a  hideous  blunder."  1 

While  all  have  been  impressed  by  the  deep  and  ab- 
sorbing passion  of  the  play,  it  has  not  always  been  for 
the  same  reason.  Shocked  as  all  have  been  by  the  awful 
catastrophe,  the  real  nature  of  the  conflict  and  of  the 
outcome  has  been  variously  interpreted.  The  very 
intensity  of  the  passion  has  doubtless  confused  our 
notions,  and  sympathy  and  horror  have  often  taken  the 
place  of  careful  study  and  clear  thinking.  Admiration 
for  the  "noble  Moor,"  compassion  for  the  "divine  Des- 
demona,"  and  scorn  for  the  intriguing  lago,  have  mis- 
guided our  judgments,  have  obscured  the  story  of  the 
play  and  the  very  words  that  should  reveal  the  true 
character  and  actual  deeds  of  the  persons.  In  some 
cases  both  artistic  sensibility  and  moral  judgment  have 
been  paralyzed,  until  Othello  has  become  a  perfect 
hero,  Desdemona  a  spotless  saint,  and  poor  lago  a 
fiend  incarnate.  Instead  of  appreciating  the  play  as 
it  is  written,  and  perceiving  the  informing  thought  of 
the  dramatist,  this  emotional  criticism  has  made  the 
injurer  noble,  his  chief  victim  a  saint,  the  injured  a 
devil,  and  Shakespeare — foolish. 

Othello  has  doubtless  been  very  difficult  of  interpre- 
tation. More  than  half  a  century  ago  the  Edinburgh 
Review  (1850)  expressed  only  the  truth  when  it  said 
that  "all  critics  of  name  have  been  perplexed  by  the 
moral  enigma  which  lies  under  this  tragic  tale."  Since 

1  Shakespearean  Tragedy,  pp.  177-8.    London,  2nd  edition,  1905. 


Othello  175 

these  words  were  written  the  opinion  has  become  all  but 
universal  that  it  is  the  moral  aspects  of  the  play  that 
have  made  it  difficult  to  understand.  The  passing 
years,  moreover,  have  forced  the  conviction  upon  many 
students  that  as  the  enigma  of  this  play,  and  of  many 
others,  is  "moral,"  so  the  true  interpretation  must  like- 
wise be  "moral."  The  solution  of  a  play  that  is  a 
"moral  enigma"  must  come  if  it  comes  at  all  from  a  so- 
lution of  the  moral  aspects  of  the  play,  which  can  be 
reached  only  by  a  due  consideration  of  all  the  moral 
relations  of  the  various  persons  of  the  drama.  And 
while  it  must  be  admitted  that  no  expositions  thus  far 
have  proven  entirely  satisfactory,  the  many  earnest 
attempts  to  unravel  the  "moral  enigma"  mark  the  only 
successes  up  to  the  present  time  that  criticism  has 
made  with  this  most  fascinating  drama. 

There  is  no  external  source  from  which  we  can  learn 
Shakespeare's  dramatic  purpose,  and  we  can  only  infer 
it  as  we  see  it  unfolded  in  his  plays.  Like  all  the 
dramatists  up  to  his  time  he  let  his  plays  speak  for 
themselves,  and  unlike  many  later  dramatists  he  left 
no  word  of  comment  or  explanation.  The  dedications 
of  Jonson,  and  the  prefaces  of  Dryden  and  others  have 
served  to  disclose  their  dramatic  purposes  and  even  to 
interpret  their  dramas.  But  Shakespeare  has  left  us 
no  dedications  and  no  prefaces.  If  he  has  revealed 
anywhere  his  conception  of  the  function  of  the  drama 
it  is  in  Hamlet's  directions  to  the  players,  and  these  do 
not  help  us  in  the  interpretation  of  any  particular 
play.  Whether  Shakespeare  shared  the  opinion  of 
most  other  English  dramatists  and  critics  of  his  time 
that  the  drama  should  not  only  please  but  profit  the 
audience  we  cannot  know  directly.  Three  centuries 
of  study  have  not  yet  made  clear  his  attitude  toward 


176  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

the  principle  of  "poetic  justice,"  as  the  moral  aspects 
of  the  drama  came  later  to  be  called.  To  this  day  the 
discussion  has  gone  on,  and  many  students  are  inclined 
to  think  that  in  Othello  and  other  plays  he  has  ignored 
this  principle  altogether.1 

In  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries  when 
criticism  was  almost  entirely  didactic,  it  was  all  but 
unanimously  agreed  that  Shakespeare  paid  no  atten- 
tion to  moral  subjects  or  to  ethical  forces.  The  bur- 
den of  the  critics  from  Rymer  to  Johnson  was  that 
Shakespeare  had  violated  all  our  fundamental  notions 
of  "poetic  justice,"  or  in  other  words  had  paid  no 
attention  whatsoever  to  moral  considerations.  In  his 
discussion  of  this  subject  Rymer  chose  Othello,  as  Pro- 
fessor Alden  has  recently  said,  "to  show  the  extreme 
results  of  neglecting  this  principle,  on  the  part  of  the 
more  or  less  barbarous  Elizabethans.  What  unnatural 
crime  had  Desdemona  committed  to  bring  such  judg- 
ment upon  her?"  Rymer's  own  words  are  very  strong: 
"What  instruction  can  be  made  out  of  this  catastro- 
phe? .  .  .  How  can  it  work,  unless  to  delude  our 
senses,  disorder  our  thought,  addle  our  brain,  pervert 
our  affections,  corrupt  our  appetite,  and  fill  our  head 
with  vanity,  confusion,  tintamarre,  and  jingle- jan- 
gle?" 2  The  same  opinion  was  still  held  in  the  time  of 
Dr.  Johnson,  nearly  a  century  later.  In  the  preface 
to  his  edition  of  Shakespeare  Johnson  says :  "His  first 
defect  is  that  ...  he  sacrifices  virtue  to  convenience, 
is  so  much  more  careful  to  please  than  to  instruct, 
hat  he  seems  to  write  without  any  moral  purpose  .  .  . 

*Cf.  Quinlan,  Poetic  Justice  in  the  Drama:  The  History  of 
an  EtJtfcal  Principle  in  Literary  Criticism,  University  Press, 
Notre  Bame,  Indiana,  U.  S.  A.,  1912. 

2  Of.  Professor  R.  M.  Alden,  "The  Decline  of  Poetic  Jus- 
tice," Atlantic  Monthly,  February,  1910,  pp.  260-7. 


Othello  177 

he  makes  no  just  distribution  of  good  and  evil,  nor  is 
always  careful  to  show  in  the  virtuous  a  disapproba- 
tion of  the  wicked.  .  .  ." 

These  critics  are  in  substantial  agreement  with  all 
other  English  criticism,  whether  applied  directly  to 
Shakespeare  or  not,  in  their  demand  that  the  drama 
should  not  violate  our  fundamental  moral  notions.  The 
history  of  the  principle  of  "poetic  justice"  in  English 
criticism  shows  that  English  thought  has  always  ap- 
plied itself  to  the  more  ethical  phases  of  the  drama, 
but  we  shall  find  that  the  classical  and  formal  concep- 
tions of  the  principle  held  in  the  seventeenth  and  eight- 
eenth centuries  were  hopelessly  inadequate  for  the  liv- 
ing and  romantic  Elizabethan  drama.  The  criticism  as 
well  as  the  drama  of  that  period  falls  far  short  of 
dealing  adequately  with  large  and  living  conceptions, 
and  when  they  attempted  to  interpret  Shakespeare 
their  limitations  became  very  apparent.  The  classical! 
period  was  utterly  unable  to  deal  with  any  dramatist  at  1 
once  so  large  and  so  vital  as  Shakespeare. 

In  the  nineteenth  century  there  arose  a  generation 
of  romantic  critics  who  knew  not  the  classicists  of  the 
ages  of  Rymer  and  Johnson.  These  equally  with  the 
earlier  critics  demanded  that  Shakespeare  should 
square  himself  with  our  moral  conceptions,  but  they 
had  outlived  the  formalism  of  their  predecessors  and 
had  learned  to  look  in  other  places  for  Shakespeare's 
"poetic  justice."  Actuated  with  the  stubborn  notion 
that  his  moral  conceptions  were  not  to  be  found  in  ex- 
plicit utterance,  or  in  didactic  phrase,  they  began  to 
look  for  an  implicit  morality  in  the  construction  and 
conduct  of  the  narratives  of  the  plays,  and  in  so  doing 
opened  up  the  most  fruitful  of  all  eras  of  Shakespeare 
study. 


178  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

The  first,  of  this  long  line  of  able  critics  was  Cole- 
ridge, with  whom  as  a  recent  writer  has  said,  "Rational 
appreciation  may  be  said  to  begin  in  England."  x  It 
was  a  vast  step  forward  in  criticism  when  this  great 
man,  poet  and  critic  in  one,  laid  aside  the  idea  that 
Shakespeare  was  in  need  either  of  revision  or  criticism, 
and  inaugurated  the  modern  attempt  at  interpretation. 
Though  succeeding  ages  have  found  plenty  of  reason 
for  dissenting  from  many  of  his  opinions  we  have  never 
really  departed  from  his  method  of  interpretation. 

In  his  study  of  Othello,  as  of  other  plays,  Coleridge 
made  a  diligent  search  for  the  dramatic  motive,  and 
tried  to  find  out  the  underlying  reason  for  the  catastro- 
phe that  had  puzzled  earlier  critics.  Instead  of  trying 
to  show  defects  in  Shakespeare's  notions  of  poetic  jus- 
tice, he  attempted  to  find  the  reason  if  not  the  justifi- 
cation for  the  catastrophe.  Carefully  surveying  the 
play,  he  reached  the  conviction  that  in  Othello  Shake- 
speare was  portraying  a  man  whose  misfortunes  were 
due  to  the  intrigue  of  another,  and  were  not  intended 
by  the  dramatist  to  appear  as  retribution  for  any  of 
his  own  misdeeds.  In  lago  and  his  evil  mind  Coleridge 
found  the  sole  cause  of  Othello's  tragic  end.  To  lago's 
"motiveless  malignity"  must  be  ascribed,  he  says,  the 
entire  catastrophe.  This  man  is  "a  being  next  to  devil, 
and  only  not  quite  devil."  2  It  is  his  evil  and  jealous 
mind  that  works  all  the  harm  done  to  Othello  and  his 
wife. 

From  this  it  is  clear  at  any  rate  that  Coleridge  saw 
the  importance  of  a  right  understanding  of  the  rela- 
tions of  Othello  and  lago  for  a  proper  comprehension 

1  Johnson,  Shakespeare  and  His  Critics,  p.  18 ;  Houghton,  Mifflin 
&  Co.,  1909. 
2 Lectures  on  Shakespeare  (Bonn's  Library),  p.  388. 


Othello  179 

and  interpretation  of  the  play.  It  will  appear,  how- 
ever, as  we  proceed  that  Coleridge  overlooked  some  of 
the  most  important  factors  in  the  relations  of  these 
two,  and  that  he  had  not  shaken  off  entirely  the  eight- 
eenth century  habit  of  trying  to  form  our  own  opinion 
of  Shakespeare's  characters,  instead  of  ascertaining 
the  dramatist's  opinion.  It  is  of  course  permissible 
for  any  one  to  differ  from  the  dramatist  about  any  of 
his  characters,  but  it  is  not  permissible  to  substitute 
this  opinion  for  the  dramatist's,  and  then  on  this  basis 
charge  the  dramatist  with  being  inartistic  or  with  a 
violation  of  our  moral  principles.  Even  less  satisfac- 
tory, however,  is  Coleridge's  treatment  of  the  relations 
of  Othello  and  Desdemona,  a  proper  understanding  of 
which  is  all  but  as  important  as  that  of  Othello  and 
lago.  This  also  will  call  for  the  most  careful  study. 
But,  though  Coleridge's  treatment  of  these  two  topics 
has  not  settled  the  interpretation  of  the  play,  it  can 
be  freely  maintained  that  the  method  he  adopted  is  the 
only  hopeful  method  for  the  interpretation  of  the 
drama. 


ii 

In  the  matter  of  Othello  and  lago,  it  cannot  fairly\ 
be   maintained    that   lago   was   the    sole   cause   of   thej 
calamities  that  befell  Othello.     In  general  it  must  be    /  ^ 
said  that  there  is  no  Shakespearean  tragedy  in  which  ^ 
the  responsibility  for  the  deed  of  the  hero  and  the  sub- 
sequent  tragedy  can  be   shifted  from  him  to  another 
person  of  the  play.     Shakespeare  no  doubt  did  not  have 
the   conception   of  the  influence  of  social  forces   that 
some  modern  dramatists  display,  for  that  is  a  concep- 
tion belonging  to  the  nineteenth  century.      Professor 


180  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prmce 

Stoll  may  be  correct  when  he  says  that  "In  no  case 
does  Shakespeare  represent  men  as  overwhelmed  by 
anything  so  vague  and  neutral  as  social  forces,"  but  he 
is  surely  incorrect  when  he  adds,  "or  as  devoured  by 
their  own  passions  alone."  x  It  is  this  very  conception 

(r  of  the  consuming  and  destructive  power  of  passion  that 
marks    the    superiority    of    Shakespeare's    conceptions 
over   that  of  his   contemporaries.      This   "fatalism   of 
overmastering  passion,"  as  it  has  been  called  by  Pro- 
fessor Corson,2  is  the  distinguishing  feature  of  Shake- 
speare's conception  of  man's  relation  to  the  world,  and 
marks  the  culmination  of  the  Elizabethan  drama,  and 
its  superiority  to  the  classical  drama  where  men  are 
overcome  by  external  fate.     In  the  case  of  Othello,  as 
,of  all  the  other  tragedies,  it  is  the  passion  of  the  hero 
|that  is  the  mainspring  of  all  the  action  of  the  play  that 
•  finally  and  certainly  destroys  the  hero.     There  are  two 
or  three  types  of  such  passion  in  Shakespeare,  accord- 
ing to  their  moral  character,  but  all  alike  give  rise  to 
the  action  of  the  play  and  lead  the  hero  to  his  fate. 

Beginning,  then,  with  this  passion,  it  is  the  art  of 
Shakespeare  to  place  his  characters  under  those  con- 
ditions that  will  show  the  true  nature  of  their  passion 
and  develop  it  to  its  fullness  and  to  its  fated  end.     It 
is   one   of   Shakespeare's   supreme   excellences   that  he 
Realized  that  "every  man  is  tempted  when  he  is  drawn 
Xaway  of  his   own  lusts  and  enticed,"    and  that  every 
\    man's   condemnation   comes    from   the   development   of 
\  his  own  passions.     It  was  under  the  sway  of  this  con- 
ception that  Shakespeare  brought  Othello  into  his  fatal 
jy  conflict  with  lago,  for  this  drew  from  him  all  the  hid- 

1  Cf.    "Criminals    in    Shakespeare    and    in    Science,"    by    E.    E. 
Stoll,  in  Modern  Philology,  Vol.  X,  p.  59. 

2  Of.  Corson,  Introduction  to  Shakespeare,  Preface. 


Othello  181 

den  passion  of  his  nature.  To  make  lago  the  sole  cause 
of  the  tragedy  that  befell  Othello  is  to  seek  outside  the 
human  heart  for  the  causes  of  human  failure.  The 
wonder  is  that  Coleridge,  philosopher  and  genius  that 
he  was,  could  content  himself  with  an  explanation  that 
does  such  violence  to  a  true  moral  psychology.  But 
Coleridge  may  have  had  a  personal  interest  in  laying 
the  blame  outside  the  soul  of  the  one  who  is  overcome 
by  weakness  or  by  fate.  Othello,  like  all  of  Shake- 
speare's plays,  is  a  drama  of  character,  not  a  drama  of 
intrigue.  But  only  a  very  careful  study  of  the  leading 
topics  of  the  play  will  make  this  clear. 

The  attempt  to  solve  the  moral  difficulties  of  Othello 
has  never  been  given  up  entirely,  though  quite  recently 
two  distinguished  critics  have  taken  "the  moralists"  to 
task,  and  have  appeared  to  think  that  the  chief  excel- 
lence of  the  drama  is  in  its  "moral  enigma."  Professor 
(Sir)  Walter  Raleigh  has  made  a  vigorous  attack,  and 
says  that  "The  moralists  have  been  eager  to  lay  the 
blame  of  these  events  on  Othello,  or  Desdemona,  or 
both ;  but  the  whole  meaning  of  the  play  would  vanish 
if  they  were  successful."  1  Professor  Bradley,  in  a 
somewhat  similar  strain,  rejects  all  the  more  obvious 
interpretations  of  the  play,  because,  as  he  says,  they 
"reduce  Shakespeare  to  common-place."  2  Both  alike 
refuse  to  give  credence  to  any  view  that  does  not  make 
Shakespeare  subtle  and  far-fetched  and  mystical.  They 
seem  ready  to  reject  alike  what  is  common-place  and 
common-sense.3 

1  Shakespeare,  "English  Men  of  Letters,"   Eversley  edition,  p. 
269.    London,  1909. 

2  Shakespearean  Tragedy,  p.  208. 

'Professor  Stoll  has  characterized  the  Shakespearean  criticism 
of  Professors  Raleigh  and  Bradley  as  "the  most  bewildering 
thing  in  the  world  to  read,  whether  taken  as  a  whole  or  piece 
by  piece.  Truth  is  tangled  with  error,  fact  with  fancy,  criticism, 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

The  names  of  these  two  eminent  critics  have  carried 
more  weight  in  some  quarters  than  their  theories  have 
deserved,  and  some  students  have  been  too  willing  to 
give  up  the  search  for  a  true  moral  interpretation  of 
the  plays.  Others,  however,  dissatisfied  with  this  com- 
plete moral  scepticism  of  Shakespeare,  and  with  this 
substitution  of  the  critic's  fancy  for  the  poet's  vision, 
have  made  attempts  to  find  a  larger  moral  meaning  for 
the  plays,  and  have  tried  to  assign  some  kind  of  large 
spiritual  principles  in  place  of  the  plain  moral  prin- 
ciples it  was  thought  necessary  to  abandon.  The  sug- 
gestion has  been  made  that  in  cases  like  that  of  Des- 
'demona  there  is  only  an  apparent  defeat  and  nemesis, 
but  that  in  reality  there  is  a  much  higher  spiritual  vin- 
dication, and  that  the  close  of  the  play  marks  a  com- 
plete spiritual  triumph  in  which  the  human  spirit  re- 
mains "essentially  unconquered."  Professor  Alden,  as 
the  latest  spokesman  of  this  view,  says,  "If  the  love  of 
Desdemona  had  perished  in  the  face  of  injustice  and 
falsehood,  then  we  should  have  had  indeed  a  chaos  of 
spiritual  wreckage,  a  poetical  injustice  for  which  no 
mere  beauty  of  form  could  easily  atone.  But  on  the 
contrary  there  remains  in  each  case,  amid  the  very 
crash  and  vanishing  of  all  earthly  hope,  a  spirit  that 
transcends  common  humanity  as  far  as  its  suffering  has 
transcended  common  experience,  proving  anew  through 
poetry  that  the  world  of  the  senses  is  'inferior  to  the 

in  short,  with  poetry,  and  there  is  no  test  at  hand  to  tell  one 
from  the  other."  He  goes  on  to  say  that  their  confusion  is  due 
to  the  lack  of  "the  historical  spirit."  "Everybody  has  his  own 
Shakespeare,  in  his  own  image  and  after  his  own  heart.  A  senti- 
ment transforms  a  feature  ...  or  a  sentiment  exaggerates  the 
beauty  and  significance  of  features  already  there!"  E.  E.  Stoll, 
article  on  "Anachronism  in  Shakespeare  Criticism,"  pp.  557-575, 
Modern  Philology,  Vol.  VII,  No.  4,  April,  1910. 


Othello  183 

soul.' "  ! 

This,  as  criticism,  seems  somewhat  better,  for  it 
grants  our  inexorable  conviction  that  Shakespeare  is 
after  all  a  moral  dramatist,  and  tries  to  square  himself 
with  our  moral  principles.  But,  unfortunately,  this 
kind  of  criticism  makes  a  demand  of  us  that  no  gen- 
eration of  theatre-goers  or  readers  has  ever  been  able 
to  meet.  To  picture  Othello  and  Desdemona  as  in  the! 
end  not  failing  but  actually  triumphing,  as  Professor! 
Alden  finds  himself  obliged  to  maintain,  is  to  think  of/ 
them  as  in  the  same  class  as  the  suffering  Job,  and  as/ 
Romeo  and  Juliet.  He  says,  "If  the  individual  expe- 
rience often  seems  to  be  at  odds  with  everything  but 
itself ;  if  Job  suffer  for  no  reason  such  as  can  be  stated 
in  general  terms ;  if  Juliet  and  Romeo  are  the  victims 
of  the  animosities  of  their  parents  ...  ;  if  Desdemona 
dies  because  her  pitiful  life  has  found  a  number  of 
malignantly  potent  trifles  looming  so  big  for  the  mo- 
ment as  to  shut  from  view  any  source  of  active  jus- 
tice .  .  ."2 

This,  however,  it  is  impossible  to  admit.  The  writer 
of  "Job"  explicitly  declares  that  Job  was  a  righteous 
man,  and  that  his  misfortunes  were  entirely  due  to  the 
malignity  of  the  evil  one.  Neither  were  his  misfortunes 
of  the  nature  of  moral  catastrophes,  as  were  those  of 
Othello  and  Desdemona.  In  Shakespeare,  as  in  thei 
Bible,  the  misfortunes  that  are  objective  in  their  source \ 
are  never  moral  in  character.  Romeo  and  Juliet  were 
undoubtedly  "the  victims  of  the  animosities  of  their 
parents,"  or  in  other  words  were  the  victims  of  social 
conditions  for  which  they  were  personally  in  no  way  re- 
sponsible. About  their  misfortunes,  however,  there  is 

1  Alden,  op.  tit.,  Atlantic  Monthly,  February,  1910,  p.  267. 
9  Ibid.,  p.  267. 


184  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

not  the  slightest  suggestion  of  retribution,  and  as  Car- 
Jlyle  long  ago  observed,  their  apparent  defeat  is  really  a 
'moral  victory.     But  it  is  very  different  with  Othello 
|  and  Desdemona,  for  there  is  an  element  of  retribution 
*  in    their    misfortunes.       The    play    explicitly    depicts 
them  as  the  authors  of  all  the  elements  of  their  social 
conditions  that  give  rise  to  their  conflicts  and  subse- 
quent misfortunes. 

It  should  be  remembered  that  Othello  was  not  a 
son  of  Venice,  but  a  foreigner,  and  moreover  a  for- 
eigner of  a  different  race  and  color,  with  all  that 
that  means  of  divergence  of  mind  and  character.  More- 
over, there  was  no  conflict  between  Romeo  and  Juliet, 
for  their  love  was  perfect,  but  the  conflict  was  between 
their  united  and  unwavering  love  and  the  hostility  of 
their  families.  In  the  case  of  Othello  and  Desdemona 
|he  conflict  becomes  acute  and  finally  fatal  between 
husband  and  wife,  and  from  this  the  play  takes  its 
character  of  a  hapless  mismarriage. 

All  these  unsuccessful  attempts  to  understand  the 
drama  come  from  long-continued  but  erroneous  habits 
of  interpretation.  The  plays  have  been  treated  as  if 
they  were  historical  documents  and  not  works  of  poetic 
imagination.  Historical  documents  have  to  be  evalu- 
ated by  the  student,  and  often  parts  are  judged  to 
be  unauthentic  and  hence  of  little  or  no  value.  But 
literary  products  cannot  be  treated  in  this  manner,  for 
\every  word  of  a  great  poet  has  been  elaborated  with 
turious  care  and  is  of  value  to  the  whole,  and  cannot 
tbe  ignored.  Some  critics  who  regret  that  we  have  no  ex- 
ternal comments  of  Shakespeare  upon  his  plays  per- 
sistently ignore  the  numerous  comments  the  drama- 
tist has  made  within  the  plays.  It  must  be  claimed  that 
Shakespeare's  dramatic  methods  are  not  subtle  and 


Othello  185 

elusive,  but  pre-eminently  artistic  and  open.  They  are 
indeed  so  artistic  that  they  have  concealed  his  art,  and 
unfortunately  have  also  concealed  his  mind  from  us. 
We  have  steadfastly  overlooked  even  his  most  obvious 
attempts  to  make  his  meaning  clear,  and  have  missed 
all  his  own  comments,  which  are  the  best  keys  to  his 
plays.  We  have,  moreover,  explained  away  his  own 
very  plain  words,  we  have  ignored  his  conduct  of  the 
plot  of  the  dramas,  and  have  refused  to  accept  as  part 
of  his  plan  the  very  issues  of  the  plays  themselves  that 
he  has  elaborated  with  such  unequalled  skill.  No  won- 
der  if  we  have  begun  to  think  perhaps  after  all  the 
plays  have  no  meaning  to  be  discovered. 


in  , 

Let  us  begin,  then,  our  study  of  this  play  by  ob- 
serving very  carefully  whatever  comment  Shakespeare 
has  made  upon  it.  In  the  very  title,  Othello,  the  Moor 
of  Venice,  we  have  the  dramatist's  comment  that  the 
play  is  to  be  the  story  of  a  certain  Moor,  Othello,  who 
had  abandoned  his  native  land  and  had  taken  up  his 
residence  and  life  in  the  Italian  city  of  Venice.  In 
doing  this  Othello  had  left  his  native  Africa,  or  Spain,1 
and  undertook  to  live  his  life  in  Venice.  The  Moors  of 
both  Africa  and  Spain  were  looked  upon  by  English- 

1  "Shakespeare,  in  IV.  ii.  257,  seems  to  point  to  Mauritania  as 
the  native  country  of  Othello,  who  is  hence  to  be  regarded  as 
a  Moor  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  word,  a  native  of  the  northern 
coast  of  Africa,  toward  the  west.  .  .  .  Moor,  however,  it  may 
be  observed,  was  used  by  English  writers  very  extensively,  and 
all  the  dark  races  seem,  by  some  writers,  to  be  regarded  as  com- 
prehended under  it."  Hunter,  New  Illustrations  of  Shakespeare, 
II,  p.  280.  Quoted  by  Furness,  the  Variorum  Othello,  p.  390.  In 
all  probability  Shakespeare  thought  of  Othello  as  from  Spain, 
which  for  long  had  been  inhabited  by  and  under  the  domination 


186  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

men  and  other  Europeans  as  barbaric  or  semi-barbaric, 
while  the  Venetians  were  looked  upon  as  the  most  civ- 
ilized and  cultured  people  of  Europe.1      The  change 
/took  Othello  among  another  race  of  another  color,  one 
[  that  Shakespeare  and  most  of  his  countrymen  of  what- 
\ever  time  considered  a  much   superior   race.      Now  if 
Shakespeare  had   any   aptness   in   giving  titles   to  his 
plays,  and  did  not  add  mere  idle  words,  the  play  must 
be  considered  "primarily  a  study  of  a  noble  barbarian 
j  who  had  become  a  Christian  .   .   .  but  who  retains  be- 
j  neath  the  surface  the  savage  passions  of  his  Moorish 
/  blood  .   .   .   and   that   the  last   three   Acts   depict   the 
!  outburst   of   these   original   feelings   through   the   thin 
crust  of  Venetian  culture."  2     This  is  Professor  Brad- 
ley's  statement  of  the  view  which  has  been  held,  but 
which  he   scouts   as   impossible.      His   chief  argument 
against  it,  however,  is  that  it  is  not  like  Shakespeare, 
adding  that  "To  me  it  appears  hopelessly  un-Shake- 

of  the  Moors.  After  his  sword  had  been  taken  from  him  in  the 
last  act,  Othello  says: 

"I  have  another  weapon  in  this  chamber, 
It  is  a  sword  of  Spain,  the  ice  brook's  temper:" 

(V.  ii.  314-5.) 

In  Love's  Labour's  Lost  Shakespeare  makes  the  king  speak  "of 
many  a  knight:  from  tawny  Spain"  (I.  i.  184-5).  Here  he  is 
evidently  thinking  of  the  '"tawny  Moor."  Of.  Coleridge,  Lec- 
tures on  Shakespeare  (Bohn's  Library),  pp.  477  and  529. 

1  Hunter's   remarks   about   Venice   in   his   comments   upon    The 
Merchant  of  Venice  apply  equally  well  to  this  play:  "In  perusing 
this   play   we   should    keep   constantly  in  mind   the   ideas   which 
prevailed  in  England  in  the  time  of  Shakespeare  of  the  magnifi- 
cence of  Venice.     Now,  the  name  calls  up  ideas  only  of  glory 
departed — 'Her  long  life  hath  reached  its  final  day;'  but  in  the 
age   of  the   poet   Venice  was   gazed   on   with    admiration   by   the 
people  of  every  country,  and  by  none  with  more  devotion  than 
those  of  England."     Quoted  by  Furness  in  the  Variorum  Mer- 
chant of  Venice,  p.  3. 

2  Shakespearean  Tragedy,  pp.  186-7. 


Othello  187 

spearean."  Ever  since  Schlegel's  time,1  however,  this 
has  been  the  generally  accepted  interpretation  of  the 
play,  though  of  course  there  has  been  disagreement 
about  details.  But  this  recent  imaginative  criticism 
has  given  us  a  new  Othello,  a  new  Hamlet,  and  verily 
a  new  Shakespeare;  and  instead  of  the  vision  and  the 
faculty  divine  of  the  great  dramatist  we  have  the  fan- 
cies of  the  critics.  This  criticism  has  succeeded  in 
little,  however,  but  in  convincing  itself  that  Shake- 
speare is  mystical  and  modern,  that  he  wrote  with  a 
very  vague  notion  of  what  he  was  doing,  and  that  fre- 
quently in  his  haphazard  manner  he  misnamed  his 
plays.  It  is  now  time  for  criticism  to  reach  the  con- 
viction that  Shakespeare  wrote  with  a  very  clear  notion 
of  what  he  was  aiming  at,  and  not  by  mere  intuition  or 
chance.  Only  if  we  take  this  attitude  is  it  possible  at 
this  day  to  discern  the  true  thought  and  intent  of  his 
dramas. 

The  entire  drama  is  Othello's  story,  though  from  the  I 
outset  lago  takes  the  initiative,  and  seems  to  be  the\ 
protagonist.     The  situation,  however,  has  been  created  \ 
by  Othello  in  every  particular,  and  from  this  springs 
all  the  action  or  rather  the  reaction  of  lago.     By  his 
action,   previous   to   the  opening  of  the  play,  Othello 
furnished  the  motive  for  lago,  from  which  springs  all 
his  intrigue.     It  is  only  under  the  clever  manipulation 
of  lago  that  Othello  is  put  on  the  defence,  from  which) 
he  does  not  escape  until  near  the  close  of  the  play.   Thel 
real  conflict  of  the  play,  then,  is  between  Othello,  with  I 
whom  is  joined  Desdemona,  on  the  one  hand,  and  lago, 
his  ancient,  on  the  other.     From  the  outset,  Othello  is 
struggling  with  a  situation  which  he  inaugurated  before 

1  Of.    Schlegel's    Lectures    on    Dramatic    Art    and    Literature, 
Lecture  XXV,  Eng.  trans,  in  Bohn's  Library. 


188  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

the  opening,  of  the  play,  and  which  grows  more  complex 
as  the  movement  develops. 

The  first  scene  of  Othello  presents  a  conversation 
between  Roderigo,  the  disappointed  suitor  of  Desde- 
mona,  and  lago,  concerning  incidents  of  which  Othello 
is  the  chief  agent.  Othello  and  Desdemona  have  eloped, 
it  seems,  leaving  Roderigo  disappointed  and  distressed. 
He  complains  that  lago  had  not  forewarned  him  in 
order  that  their  marriage  might  have  been  prevented. 
'But  lago,  though  in  close  touch  with  Othello,  protests 
he  did  not  "dream  of  such  a  matter,"  implying  that  it 
was  as  much  a  surprise  to  him  as  to  any  one.  For  some 
•time  lago  had  what  he  considered  good  reason  for  hat- 
|ing  the  Moor,  though  this  latest  episode  enables  him 
]for  the  first  time  to  see  through  the  whole  affair. 
'Othello's  attachment  to  Desdemona  now  explains  why 
he  was  passed  by  and  the  new  appointment  of  lieutenant 
to  Othello  was  conferred  upon  Cassio.  lago  now  sus- 
pects that  the  post  was  given  to  Cassio  by  reason  of 
Desdemona's  friendship  for  him,  and  because  he  was  a 
go-between  in  the  courtship  of  Othello  and  Desdemona.1 
this  lago  now  declares  his  hatred  of  the  pair,  and 
Jntimates  his  willingness  to  join  Roderigo  in  an  attempt 
to  harass  Othello,  and  if  not  too  late,  to  prevent  his 
marriage.2 

*Cf.  Bodenstedt,  referred  to  in  Furness,  p.  5. 
2  Professor  Bradley  warns  us  against  believing  on  his  sole 
authority  "a  syllable  that  lago  utters  on  any  subject,  including 
himself."  (Op.  cit.,  p.  311.)  To  this  Professor  Stoll  replies: 
"lago  is  a  liar,  no  doubt,  but  it  is  to  confound  fact  with  fiction 
and  to  knock  the  props  from  under  Shakespearess  dramatic  frame- 
work to  hold  that  lago's  soliloquies  are  lies."  (Op.  cit.,  p.  561.) 
•  But  in  addition  to  his  soliloquies  lago's  explanation  to  Roderigo 
*of  his  hatred  for  Othello  must  be  taken  as  the  truth.  It  is  con- 
,ceivable  that  lago  or  any  other  character  fictitious  or  real  may 
Jnot  be  fully  conscious  of  his  own  motives,  but  it  is  scarcely  con- 
fceivable  that  a  dramatist,  much  less  the  greatest,  would  make  the 


Othello  189 

After  his  usual  manner  Shakespeare  has  made  the 
opening  conflict,  that  between  Othello  and  lago,  thej 
chief  conflict  of  the  play.1  But  this  is  a  conflict  be- 
tween two  men  who  had  up  to  this  time  been  the  near- 
est and  warmest  friends,  one  a  great  general  and  the 
other  his  most  trusted  officer.  There  is  plenty  of  evi- 
dence throughout  the  play  that  up  to  this  time  there 
had  been  the  fullest  confidence  between  the  two,  and 
both  alike  were  looked  upon  as  men  of  excellent  ability 
and  sterling  character.  Othello  was  known  as  a  noble 
Moor  and  had  attained  the  highest  military  position, 
and  therefore  must  have  had  the  fullest  confidence  of 
the  state  and  the  senate.  Every  one  regarded  lago. 
also  as  an  upright  and  noble-minded  man,  and  he  had 
earned  for  himself  the  epithet  of  "honest."  But  all  at/ 
once  the  "honest"  lago  becomes  the  mortal  enemy  of  the* 
"noble"  Moor.  We  must  then  account  for  this  change, 
as  upon  this  change  all  the  development  of  the  play 
depends.  This  is  the  play.  Shakespeare  has  appar- 
ently been  at  pains  to  show  us  what  lago's  attitude 
toward  the  Moor  was,  as  well  as  what  it  is,  and  the  ex- 
planation of  the  change  can  be  found  only  in  the  play 
itself.  We  must  explain  it  either  from  the  incidents 
of  the  play  or  from  the  words  of  the  play,  or  from 
both. 

The  incidents  that  take  place  at  the  opening  of  the 
play,  at  the  same  time  as  the  change  in  the  attitude  of 
lago,  are  two,  the  courtship  and  marriage  of 


chief  conflict  of  a  play  out  of  a  pack  of  lies  and  develop  it  into\ 
one  of  the  greatest  tragedies  of  literature.     The  great  dramatist 
has  no  plays  that  present  the  defeat  of  truth  at  every  turn,  and 
the  fincal  triumph  of  lies,  as  this   play  would  then  denote.     We 
must  believe  that  Shakespeare  is  not  just  trifling  with  great  vital 
and  moral  issues,  but  trying  to  understand  them. 
I0f.  Hodell,  op.  tit. 


190  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

and  Desdemona,  and  the  promotion  of  Cassio  to  the 

lxf)osition   of  lieutenant   under   Othello.      The  words   of 

Jago  at  the  opening  of  the  play  show  that  he  regards 

/the  latter  as  an  offence  to  himself,  and  therefore  makes 

(it  the  ground  of  his  hostility  to  Othello.     He  complains 

that  Cassio  has  "had  the  election,"  and  that, 

"He    (in  good  time)   must  his    [Othello's]    Lieutenant  be, 
And  I  (bless  the  mark)  his  Moorship's  Ancient." 

(I.  i.  34-5.) 

At  a  later  time  he  comes  to  see  some  connection  between 
^the  two  incidents,  and  believes  that  Cassio  got  the  ap- 
pointment because  of  an  old  friendship  with  Desde- 
mona, and  probably  because  he  carried  messages  be- 
tween Othello  and  Desdemona  during  their  courtship. 

When  Othello  had  occasion  to  appoint  a  lieutenant, 
"Three  great  ones  of  the  city  In  personal  suit"  ap- 
pealed to  him  on  behalf  of  lago,  only  to  find  that  he 
had  already  chosen  Cassio.     It  appeared  to  be  a  matter 
'\S/t  personal  preference  only,  for  he  could  give  no  reason 
for  the  choice  of  Cassio.     This  capricious  choice  lago 
at  once  took  as   a  very  great  slight  upon  him,   and 
rightly  so.     As  one  of  "the  usual  lunacies,"  so-called, 
in  the  interpretation  of  the  play,  however,  Professor 
Bradley    says,   "It  has   been   held,   for   example,   that 
Othello  treated  lago  abominably  in  preferring  Cassio 
to  him."  l     But  the  "lunacy"  on  this  occasion  is  to 
'i>e    charged    to    Othello    in   utterly   disregarding   and 
flouting    the    principle    of    preferment    that   holds    in 
/nilitary    circles    more    rigorously   than    perhaps    any- 
where else.     This  is  the  basis  of  the  complaint  of  lago, 
^and  arouses   at  once  his   suspicion  and  bitter  resent- 
ment,  and   soon  turns  him  into   an  abiding  but  very 
stealthy  enemy. 
1  Shakespearean  Tragedy,  p.  208. 


Othello  191 

If  Othello  can  be  capable  of  such  gross  violation  of 
all  military  rules  and  practices,  lago  sees  that  he  can 
no  longer  trust  Othello,  and  that  all  confidence  between 
them  has  virtually  ceased  to  exist,  and  no  longer  can 
he  hope  for  the  intimate  relationships  of  former  days 
to  continue.  This  rewarding  of  Cassio  with  a  military/ 
position  because  of  personal  service  to  himself  and  DesV 
demona  was  a  most  dangerous  thing  for  a  general  to 
do,  and  opened  up  all  kinds  of  possibilities  of  trouble! 
not  only  with  lago,  but  with  the  discipline  of  all  his 
forces.  Only  the  fortune  that  favors  fools  could  save 
him  from  disaster.  But  it  was  fatal  when  one  of  the^ 
disposition  of  lago  was  involved,  for  it  turned  him  at 
once  into  an  enemy,  not  only  to  himself,  but  to  all  the 
others  connected  with  the  insult,  to  Desdemona  and 
Cassio,  linking  all  three  in  his  plan  of  revenge. 

Here,  then,  is  an  outstanding  fact  that  too  few  crit-  • 
ics  have  even  observed,  and  none  have  adequately  ex- / 
plained.  At  this  point  in  the  lives  of  Othello  and  laga 
a  great  change  comes  over  their  relations.  It  cannot 
be  too  much  insisted  upon  that  up  to  this  time  theyjhad, 
been  the  warmest  and  closest  friends,  and  that  lago  had 
been  in  fact  the  confidential  officer  of  Othello.  Now 
all  at  once,  for  some  reason  that  has  not  been  under- 
stood, lago  has  been  turned  into  the  bitter  enemy  of  his 
old  friend,  Othello,  and  as  if  to  mark  the  importance  of 
this  for  the  interpretation  of  the  play,  the  dramatist 
has  chosen  this  point  in  their  relations  for  the  opening 
scene.  But  in  spite  of  all  that  has  been  observed  about 
the  importance  of  Shakespeare's  opening  scenes  for  the 
exposition  of  his  dramatic  art,  little  attention  has  been 
paid  to  this  fact  in  respect  to  Othello.  The  task  of  the 
critic  at  present,  then,  is  to  discover  the  cause  of  this 
great  change  in  the  relationships  of  these"two  men, 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

and  from  this  to  trace  the  further  development  of  the 
play. 

Ever  since  Coleridge  it  has  been  the  common  thing, 
though  by  no  means  universal,  to  attribute  the  whole 
trouble  to  the  sudden  and  unmotived  malignity  of  lago, 
or  to  forget  the  fact  that  it  has  been  sudden  and  unlike 
anything  heard  of  before  on  the  part  of  lago,  and  to 
assume  only  the  malignity.  Later  critics,  however, 
have  not  been  able  to  overlook  the  emergence  of  the 
malignity  at  this  time,  and  have  attempted  to  explain 
it  from  their  own  imaginations  rather  than  from  the 
words  of  the  play.  Professor  Bradley  may  be  taken 
as  voicing  the  best  that  can  be  said  by  those  who  would 
lay  all  the  blame  of  the  tragedy  upon  lago,  but  who 
feel  they  must  account  in  some  manner  for  this  sudden 
malignity.  Not  content  with  charging  lago  with  the 
evil  the  play  undoubtedly  lays  upon  his  shoulders, 
Professor  Bradley  suggests  that  lago  has  always  been 
in  reality  a  villain,  and  has  worn  his  "honesty"  only 
as  a  mask,  which  now  he  throws  off,  revealing  suddenly 
the  real  villain  that  he  is,  his  true  nature.  He  has 
always  been,  says  Professor  Bradley,  "a  thoroughly 
bad,  cold  man,  who  is  at  last  tempted  to  let  loose  the 
forces  within  him."  1  But  this  is  sufficiently  answered 
»for  the  present  if  we  have  succeeded  in  discovering  a 
\change  of  attitude  on  the  part  of  Othello,  due  to  his 
infatuation  with  Desdemona,  and  to  the  fact  that  he 
found  Cassio  very  serviceable  in  his  love-making.  A 
complete  criticism  of  the  assigned  motive  of  lago,  and 
an  attempt  at  the  elaboration  of  his  real  state  of  mind 
must  be  left  until  after  we  have  followed  the  conflict 
through  the  initial  stages,  when  we  shall  be  better  able 
to  judge  the  real  merits  of  the  case. 
1  Shakespearean  Tragedy,  p.  218. 


Othello  193 

Sufficient  reason  has  been  found,  however,  for  declin- 
ing to  admit  that  the  drama  is  the  story  of  the  intrigue 
of  lago,  and  as  the  name  would  intimate  it  is  the  play 
of  Othello.  There  is  also  now  justification  for  attempt- 
ing to  explain  the  play  as  in  the  main  the  tragedy  of 
the  Moor  in  his  new  home  in  Venice.  In  our  attempt  to 
find  the  explanation  of  the  tragedy  in  the  hero,  as  as- 
signed by  the  dramatist,  we  seem  forced  to  say  that 
now  at  last,  when  a  crisis  comes  upon  him,  the  great 
Moorish  general,  transplanted  from  the  wilds  of  his 
African  or  Spanish  home  into  the  cultured  and  refined 
life  of  Venice,  finds  himself  unable  to  bear  honorably 
all  the  great  responsibilities  of  his  high  position  and 
his  new  life.  It  may  be  that  the  dramatist,  who  was  a 
man  of  peace  and  had  little  admiration  for  the  Caesars 
and 'other  great  warriors,  is  here  taking  his  oppor- 
tunity to  show  how  little  of  the  higher  virtues  dwells 
in  great  military  ability.  But  the  fact  that  he  makes 
Othello  a  Moor,  and  so  designates  him  throughout  the 
play,  must  also  be  accounted  for. 

Up  to  this  time  Othello  had  borne  himself  nobly  in 
his  adopted  state,  and  had  the  full  confidence  of  the 
people  and  the  senate,  and  was  universally  acknowl- 
edged to  be  the  first  soldier  of  Venice.  But  at  this 
point  he  fails.  For  once,  and  for  the  first  time,  he 
allows  purely  personal  considerations  to  sway  him 
from  following  the  established  order  of  preferment  in 
the  army,  and  does  a  great  injustice  to  lago.  With  no 
reason  that  he  dare  give,  he  appoints  a  wholly  inex- 
perienced  man  in  preference  to  a  tried  and  proven  sol- 
dier who  had  fought  under  his  own  eyes,  "At  Rhodes, 
at  Cyprus,  and  on  other  grounds  Christen'd  and  hea- 
then." (I.  i.  81-2.)  This  wholly  unwarranted 
rightly  grieved  lago,  who  took  it  as  a  great  slight, 


194  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

for  he  believed  he  was  entitled  to  promotion.  It  also 
shook  his  confidence  in  Othello,  and  roused  in  him  all 
his  force  of  resentment  and  turned  him  into  a  bitter 
enemy  of  Othello. 

Thus  far  in  Shakespeare's  play  there  is  not  so  much 
as  a  hint  of  the  motive  assigned  to  lago  in  Cinthio's 
novel,  the  presumed  source  of  the  play.  The  dramatist 
has  almost  completely  changed  the  point  of  view  of  the 
whole  story,  by  inventing  an  entirely  new,  and  perhaps 
loftier  if  not  better,  motive  for  his  lago.  On  the  other 
hand,  he  transformed  the  one  he  found  in  the  story, 
and  invented  the  character  of  Roderigo  to  bear  that 
vulgar  part.  Then  he  invents  a  second  motive  for 
ftago,  and  makes  him  hate  Othello  also  for  his  supposed 
(relations  with  Emilia.  By  way  of  revenge  for  this 
\offence,  lago's  first  impulse  is  to  try  to  corrupt  Des- 
|demona,  and  thus  get  even  with  Othello.  But  how  little 
\this  was  his  intention  is  seen  by  the  fact  that  he  never 
seems  to  have  seriously  considered  it.  In  place  of  this, 
however,  he  has  an  alternative  that  becomes  his  ruling 
\iotive,  to  put  Othello  into  a  jealousy  of  Cassio.  This 
he  thinks  will  serve  to  revenge  himself  on  Othello  for 
\both  offences  at  one  blow: 

?And  nothing  can,  or  shall  content  my  soul 
)rill  I  am  even'd  with  him,  wife,  for  wife. 
SOr  failing  so,  yet  that  I  put  the  Moor 
/At  least  into  a  jealousy  so  strong 
(That  judgment  cannot  cure." 

(II.  i.  331-5.) 

The  two  offences  with  which  lago  charges  Othello  are 
both  matters  of  honor,  and  mark  phases  of  Othello's 
inability  to  sustain  the  new  and  exalted  life  of  his 
adopted  country.  He  was  quite  equal  to  the  task  of 
maintaining  his  military,  or  semi-barbaric,  relations 


Othello  195 

to  the  state,  and  rose  to  the  highest  command  in 
Venice.  But  in  matters  of  personal  honor  he  is  not  j 
above  reproach,  and  in  his  obtuseness  offends  lago  in  \ 
two  ways.  Some  critics  think  it  is  because  of  such 
offences  as  that  with  Emilia  that  Othello  is  unable  to 
maintain  an  undisturbed  married  relationship  with  his 
refined  and  delicate  Venetian  bride.  But  his  guilt  is 
left  very  doubtful  by  the  play,  and  therefore  this  con- 
clusion is  unwarranted.  It  is  sufficient  to  observe,  how- 
ever, that  the  clear-headed  lago  perceives  this  to  be 
his  most  vulnerable  point,  and  by  enlisting  the  dupe^ 
Roderigo,  attacks  him  where  he  is  weakest. 

lago's     dominating     personality     quickly     subjects  | 
Roderigo  to  his  schemes,  and  makes  him  a  willing  agent ! 
in  his  revenge.     The  first  thing  they  do  is  to  rouse  up 
Brabantio,  and  under  his  leadership  institute  a  search 
for  the  eloping  pair.      Shakespeare  has   here  greatly 
enlarged  and  dignified  the  meaning  of  his  play  by  mak- 
ing Roderigo,  and  not  lago,  the  disappointed  suitor  of 
Desdemona.     lago  is  thus  reserved  for  the  more  tragic 
passion,  and  Roderigo  bears  the  baser  motives,  and  at; 
the  same  time   supplies  the  needed  money,  and  helps  \ 
to  carry  out  the  intrigues  of  the  crafty  ancient.    Their 
joint  appeal  to  Brabantio  will  be  the  best  possible  plan  < 
of  attack  on  Othello,  as  it  will  show  Othello  in  opposi-/ 
tion  to  the  law  and  to  a  senator  of  the  state.     lago 
wishes  at  first  only  to  plague  Othello  with  flies,  but  the 
sick  fool,  Roderigo,  stupidly  hopes  still  to  become  the 
accepted  lover  of  Desdemona. 

lago  sees  it  is  quite  out  of  the  question  to  enter  upon  t 
a   course    of   open   hostility   and   revenge   against   his 
General,  and  the  appearance  of  friendliness  will  better 
serve  his  purpose.     His  Inferior  position  compels  him" 
to  play  the  hypocrite,  and  appear  to  continue  faithful' 


196  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

jto  Othello.  But  this  very  position  enables  him  the 
better  to  work  out  his  purpose,  which  is  not  to  destroy 
Othello,  but  only  to  disturb  his  relations  with  Desde- 
mona,  and  to  put  him  into  an  agony  of  jealousy.  lago 
does  not  fully  understand  the  fierce  nature  of  Othello, 
and  does  not  appear  at  first  to  foresee  the  terrible  ex- 
tremes to  which  his  barbaric  and  ungovernable  passion 
\vill  drive  him.  He  realizes  that  he  must  at  no  time  be 
i  found  in  a  position  "Against  the  Moor"  (I.  i.  162),  and 
I  therefore  separates  himself  from  Roderigo,  and  hastens 
to  join  himself  to  Othello,  in  order  to  appear  on  his 
side  in  the  ensuing  disturbance. 


IV 

It  is  at  this  point  that  the  second  of  the  great 
problems  of  the  play  emerges.  The  proper  under- 
standing of  the  relations  of  Othello  and  Desdemona  is 
equally  important  with  the  question  of  the  relations  of 
lago  and  Othello.  The  exposition  of  these  two  elements 
of  the  play  is  set  forth  by  the  dramatist  with  his  usual 
clearness,  and  at  considerable  length,  but  has  neverthe- 
less escaped  the  notice  of  the  critics,  or  has  been  dis- 
counted as  a  factor  in  the  interpretation.1  But  it  is 
high  time  to  learn  that  whatever  Shakespeare  put  de- 
liberately into  his  dramas  is  to  be  considered  in  the 
interpretation. 

The  meeting  of  the  two  search  parties,  each  seeking 
Othello  for  a  different  reason,  brings  the  relations  of 
Othello  and  Desdemona  into  prominence.  The  party 
of  Cassio,  with  the  Senate's  hasty  summons  to  Othello, 
serves  to  give  dramatic  importance  to  Othello's  great 
ability  as  a  commander,  and  to  emphasize  his  military 
1  Cf.  Bradley,  Shakespearean  Tragedy. 


Othello  197 

value  to  Venice.  Brabantio  and  his  troop  serve  to 
bring  out  the  private  side  of  Othello's  character,  hither- 
to unsuspected.  When  the  two  parties  meet,  Braban- 
tio is  in  a  very  quarrelsome  mood.  The  cooLwjprds  of 
Othello  prevent  a  clash  between  the  two: 

"Keep  up  your  bright  swords,  for  the  dew  will  rust  them." 

(I.  ii.  75-6.) 

The  sudden  danger  from  the  Turks  at  Cyprus  has 
made  great  dispatch  necessary,  and  the  Duke  has  or- 
dered Othello  before  him  "even  on  the  instant."  Bra- 
bantio's appeal  to  the  Senate  occurring  at  the  same 
time,  Othello  appears  before  the  magnificoes  in  the  dou- 
ble capacity  of  the  General  of  the  state  entrusted  witm 
a  great  military  exploit,  and  as  an  eloper  with  Braban-/ 
tio's  daughter. 

The  Moor  now  finds  that  his  old  friend,  the  Signior 
Brabantio,    formerly    his    admirer,    has    unexpectedly 
become  his  accuser  before  the  Senate.     Formerly  hon- 
ored as  a  friend  and  as  a  great  soldier,  and  gladly  ad- 
mitted   to   Brabantio's    house,    Othello    discovers   that 
he  is  now  considered  an  enemy,  and  execrated  as  the  J 
husband  of  Brabantio's  daughter.     For  the  first  time, 
possibly,  Othello  becomes  aware  of  the  fact  that  he  is\ 
not  accepted  on  terms  of  full  and  exact  equality  in  all  I 
particulars  with  the  Venetians.     It  is  likely,  however, 
that  Othello  had  feared  this,  and  so  took  Desdemona  L 
in  marriage  without  asking  her  father,  evidently  satis- 
fied that  as  a  black  man  he  could  not  obtain  Brabantio's 
consent. 

When  the  matter  is  brought  before  the  Senate,  Bra- 
bantio's objections  to  Othello  all  have  to  do  with  his 
difference  of  race  and  color.     He  thinks  it  utterly  un-! 
natural   for  Desdemona   to    accept  him   willingly   and ' 
knowingly.     He  cannot  conceive  how  his  daughter,  a 


198  HairHet,  cm  Ideal  Prince 

fair  maid  of  Venice,  could  consent  to  marry  a  man  of 
Othello's  color  and  nationality,  unless  in  some  way  out 
of  her  senses.  So  preposterous  does  it  appear  to  him 
i^that  he  must  suppose  Othello  has  charmed  her  with 
drugs  and  magic.  He  cries  out  in  his  desperation : 

"She   is    abus'd,   stolen    from   me,   and   corrupted 
By  spells,  and  medicines,  bought  of  mountebanks; 
For  nature,  so  preposterously  to  err, 
(Being  not  deficient,  blind,  or  lame  of  sense) 
Sans  witch-craft  could  not." 

(I.  iii.  75-9.) 

He  reiterates  his  belief  that  it  is  "against  all  rules  of 
';  nature,"  and  speaks  of  Othello's  supposed  magic  as 
"practices  of  cunning  hell."  Brabantio,  at  least,  thinks 
the  marriage  of  Moor  and  Venetian,  of  black  and  white, 
to  be  utterly  preposterous  and  unnatural,  and  doubt- 
less the  other  Senators  shared  this  conviction.  It  seems 
likely  that  this  was  also  the  opinion  of  the  dramatist, 
for  there  is  abundant  evidence  that  it  was  always  so 
regarded  on  the  Elizabethan  stage.  Only  the  develop- 
ment of  the  drama  will  show  how  far  Shakespeare  sym- 
pathizes with  this  opinion. 

Two  deeds  upon  the  part  of  Othello  have  now  brought 
him  into  active  collision  with  other  persons,  and  the  two 
are  related  to  each  other.     Because  of  his  obligations 
,to  Cassio  in  the  matter  of  his  love-making  with  Des- 
;demona  he  has  appointed  him  to  an  important  position 
/  over  lago,  thus  making  an  enemy  of  his  faithful  officer. 
He  has  also  stolen  away  Desdemona  from  her  father, 
and  secretly  married  her,  making  an  enemy  of  Braban- 
tio, who  had  been  one  of  his  greatest  admirers  among 
the  Senate.     In  both  cases  there  is  evidence  of  his  cal- 
lousness and  dullness  of  mind.    Up  to  this  point  Othello 
had  been  able  to  carry  successfully  his  exalted  respon- 


Othello  199 

sibility  in  his  adopted  state,  but  in  these  matters  he 
makes  a  complete  break-down.  Not  even  his  superior 
military  training  could  save  him.  He  could  perform 
well  the  duties  of  military  life,  but  now  it  begins  to  be 
evident  that  he  is  not  fitted  for  the  higher  and  more  \ 
exacting  arts  of  peace,  and  especially  of  love,  in  a 
civilized  state.  When  Othello  leaves  "the  tented  fields"  ^ 
for  the  streets  and  homes  of  a  refined  city  he  utterly 
goes  to  pieces,  and  whatever  sense  of  honor  he  may 
have  had  speedily  gives  place  to  a  dangerous  caprice. 
An  unsuspected  weakness,  or  deficiency,  in  his  char- 
acter is  thus  laid  bare,  upon  which  the  whole  tragedy 
will  later  be  seen  to  turn. 

This  deficiency,  it  is  now  important  to  notice,  the 
play  implies  is  due  to  his  racial  character,  and  comes 
from  the  fact  that  he  is  a  Moor.  The  h alf- civilized ; 
Othello  is  but  ill  adapted  for  life  in  civilized  and  cul-' 
tured  Venice.  Some  critics  endeavor  to  make  out  that 
nothing  whatever  of  the  happenings  of  the  play  are 
in  any  way  connected  with  the  fact  that  Othello  is  a 
Moor.  They  allege  he  is  nothing  but  a  man,  though 
he  happens  to  be  a  black  man.  His  color,  they  say, 
is  an  entirely  indifferent  matter  in  the  play,  and  can 
be  all  but  ignored  in  the  interpretation.  On  this  as- 
sumption, however,  the  many  references  to  his  color 
and  race  throughout  the  play  cannot  well  be  explained.1 
This  view  takes  for  granted  that  the  dramatist  heaps 
up  idle  words  having  no  significance,  and  refuses  to 
believe  that  there  was  a  meaning  in  all  he  wrote.  It  is 
not  necessary  to  hold,  as  Professor  Bradley  would 
have  us  believe,  that  the  dramatist  must  be  credited 
with  clear  doctrines  of  Kulturgeschichte  if  we  are  to 
maintain  that  he  made  the  problem  of  Othello  at  least 
1 C/.  jSToteJX,  pp.  298-300,  infra. 


200  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

in  part  a  problem  of  race.  Feelings  of  racial  differ- 
ences did  not  have  to  wait  for  the  Germans  of  later 
times  to  write  histories  of  culture.  In  Shakespeare's 
day  the  discovery  of  new  lands  and  new  peoples  must 
have  impressed  all  thoughtful  Europeans  with  the  con- 
\ception  of  their  own  superiority  in  all  the  arts  and 
/character  of  civilized  life.  And  the  play  makes  Othello 
quite  as  conscious  as  any  one  else  of  his  diversity  of 
irace,  though  it  is  to  other  causes  that  he  assigns  his 
/want  of  grace  and  culture. 

When  charged  before  the  Senate  with  the  abduction 
of  Desdemona,  Othello's  defence  consists  of  a  frank  and 
free  admission  that  he  had  taken  Brabantio's  daughter, 
^nd  an  apologetic  account  of  his  "whole  course  of  love." 
He  pleads  that  he  is  "little  blest  with  the  soft  phrase 
of  peace,"  for  he  has  spent  all  his  life  in  "feats  of 
broils,  and  battle."  (I.  iii.  104  ff.)  In  the  course  of 
his  apology,  his  "round  unvarnished  tale"  becomes  elo- 
quent with  a  barbaric  sincerity  and  splendor  that  al- 
most enlists  the  sympathy  of  the  Senate.  The  story  of 
"the  battle,  sieges,  fortune"  he  had  passed  is  almost 
u  as  potent  with  the  senators  as  it  had  been  with  Des- 
demona, who,  he  says, 

"lov'd  me  for  the  dangers  I  had  passed, 
And   I   lov'd   her,  that  she  did  pity  them." 

(I.  iii.  190-1.) 

He  further  says  he  is  ready  to  abide  by  the  decision  of 
'  Desdemona,  and  advises  the  senate  to  call  her  to  speak 
for  herself.     He  considers  the  marriage  to  be  a  matter 
*     for  themselves  alone,  and  implies  that  the  lady  has  a 
right  to  choose  her  husband  without  her  father's  con- 
sent. 

There  are  numerous  Shakespearean  plays  which  seem 
to  bear  out  the  idea  that  the  dramatist  thought  it  to 


Othello  201 

be  the  woman's  right  to  choose  her  own  husband,  with- 
out meeting  her  father's  wishes  in  the  matter.  But 
there  are  many  differences,  and  these  must  be  given 
consideration.  Shakespeare  undoubtedly  approves  such--' 
choice  when  it  means  a  larger  and  fuller  life.  Juliet 
disobeyed  a  tyrannical  and  hateful  father  to  find  a 
larger  life  and  a  true  spiritual  union  with  Romeo.  In 
the  same  spirit  Imogen  refused  the  coarse  and  villain- 
ous Cloten,  to  join  hands  and  hearts  with  the  virtuous 
Posthumus.  The  lovely  Jewess,  Jessica,  ran  away  from 
the  miserly  Shylock  to  marry  the  Christian,  Lorenzo, 
and  at  the  same  time  accepted  the  religion  of  her  hus- 
band. In  all  these  cases  the  maidens  found  their  true 
life  with  the  men  of  their  own  choice,  and  the  dramatist 
gives  his  verdict  in  making  their  love  happy  and  suc- 
cessful, and  in  bringing  out  of  their  marriage  a  larger 
good  to  all. 

There  are  in  these  and  other  instances,  however,  many  1 
differences  from  the  case  of  Othello  and  Desdemona.     It 
is  not  so  much  the  wilful  disrespect  to  her  father  that 
is  the  fault  of  Desdemona,  though  some  critics  make  a  . 
great  deal  of  this,1  but  the  fact  that  in  marrying  Othello  | 
she  showed  a  wilful  disregard  of  her  own  highest  in- 
1  Cf.  Bodenstedt,  who  says :  "So  long  as   family  ties  are  held 
sacred,   Desdemona  will   be   held   guilty   towards   her    father   by 
every   healthy   mind.     Without  keeping  in   mind   this   wrong,   in  i 
which    Othello    shares  .  .  .  the    drama    loses    its    sacredly    tragic ' 
character,  and  degenerates  into  a  mere  intrigue.     For  that  such  a . 
finished  villain  as  lago  should  destroy  the  happiness  of  two  such  \ 
excellent  persons  as  Othello  and  Desdemona,  without  at  the  same  / 
time,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  serving  higher  purposes,  can' 
make  an  impression  which  is  only  sorrowful,  not  tragic.     It  is 
otherwise  when  we  take  things  as  they  are  and  keep  strictly  to  the 
Poet's  own  words,  putting  nothing  into  the  play,  but  explaining 
everything  by  what  is  in  it.    Then  Desdemona's  tragic  fate  affects/ 
us  because  we  see  that  she  is  the  fate  herself  which  prepares  the/ 
soil  whereon  lago  sows  the  seed  of  his  deadly  mischief."     Eng. 
trans,  in  Furness's  Variorum  Othello,  p.  441. 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

terests.     It  can  scarcely  be  maintained  that  the  mar- 
/  riage  of  Othello  and  Desdemona  was  a  complete  spir- 
i  itual  union,  for  there  were  too  many  diverse  elements 
j  that  at  the  time  seemed  incompatible  and  in  the  end 
proved  entirely  irreconcilable.    It  is  true,  of  course,  that 
as  in  the  case  of  Juliet  the  passion  of  love  transformed 
esdemona  from  a  meek  and  blushing  maiden  into  a 
strong  and  self-reliant  woman.     There  need  be  no  at- 
tempt to  deny  the  reality  of  the  love  of  these  two,  and 
<  its  effect  upon  their  development,  but  it  was  not  strong 
enough  or  natural  enough  to  overcome  all  its  enemies, 
as  a  true  and  natural  love  like  that  of  Romeo  and  Juliet 
can   do.      Under   some   conditions    it   is   possible   that 
their  love  might  have  outlived  their  lives  and  overcome 
its  handicaps,  yet  it  is  to  miss  the  art  of  this  drama 
not  to  see  that  the  dramatist  is  here  showing  its  un- 
naturalness  by  placing  it  in  the  conditions  that  test 
it  to  the  uttermost  and  that  reveal  its  weakness  and 
bring  it  to  defeat. 

When  Desdemona  is  brought  into  court  to  speak 
for  herself  in  the  matter  of  the  marriage,  she  declares 
V  that  she  freely  and  lovingly  takes  Othello  for  her  hus- 
band, and  intimates  that  she  is  willing  to  take  all  the 
consequences  of  that  act.  She  affirms  her  love  for  the 
Moor,  and  her  desire  to  live  with  him,  and  requests  to 
be  permitted  to  accompany  him  to  Cyprus.  She  says 
she  understands  fully  what  she  is  doing,  recognizes 
Othello  as  a  Moor,  but  that  she  accepts  him  as  he  is, 
lor,  as  her  words  imply,  she  finds  compensation  for  his 
<£olor  in  the  quality  of  his  mind,  in  his  honors,  and  in 
kis  courage: 

"My  heart's  subdu'd 
Even  to  the  very  quality  of  my  lord; 
I  saw  Othello's  visage  in  his  mind, 


Othello  203 

And  to  his  honors  and  his  valiant  parts 
Did  I  my  soul  and  fortunes  consecrate." 
(I.  iii.  278-282.) 

Seeing  her  determination  and  her  willingness  to  abide 
by  her  decision,  her  father  accepts  what  seems  inevit- 
able, but  leaves  them  with  the  needless  and  cruel 
mark : 

"Look  to  her    (Moor)    if  thou  hast  eyes  to  see: 
She  has  deceiv'd  her  father,  and  may  thee." 

(I.  iii.  323-4.) 

These  words  let  us  see  where  Desdemona  got  her  wil- 
fulness,  and  relieve  us  of  the  necessity  of  grieving  muchj 
over  the  sorrows  of  her  father  in  this  most  unfortunate 
marriage. 


In  some  recent  criticism  there  has  been  an  attempt 
to  glorify  the  purity  and  beauty  of  the  love  of  Othello^ 
and  Desdemona,  and  to  place  it  among  the  most  spirit- 
ual of  the  loves  of  Shakespeare.  Professor  Bradley 
speaks  of  Desdemona's  choice  of  Othello  as  rising  "too 
far  above  our  common  level,"  and  adds:  "There  is 
perhaps  a  certain  excuse  for  our  failure  to  rise  to 
Shakespeare's  meaning,  and  to  realize  how  extraor- 
dinary and  splendid  a  thing  it  was  in  a  gentle  Venetian 
girl  to  love  Othello,  and  to  assail  fortune  with  such 
a  'downright  violence  and  storm5  as  is  expected  only  in 
a  hero."  l  But  this  is  only  another  instance  of  that 
fanciful  criticism  that  makes  a  new  Shakespeare,  and 
yet  thinks  it  is  interpreting  the  old.  If  Goethe's  sug- 
gestions for  the  re-casting  of  Hamlet  in  order  to  ex- 
press better  the  meaning  have  not  helped  but  hindered 
1  Shakespearean  Tragedy,  pp.  202-3. 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

the  understanding  of  Shakespeare's  drama,  we  should 
learn  the  lesson  of  letting  the  dramatist  have  his  way. 
Some  of  the  critics  before  Professor  Bradley  have  more 
truly  seen  the  character  of  the  love  of  Othello  and 
Desdemona.  Professor  Dowden  has  observed  that  "In 
the  love  of  each  there  was  a  romantic  element;  and 

(romance  is  not  the  highest  form  of  the  service  which 
imagination  renders  to  love.  For  romance  disguises 
certain  facts,  or  sees  them,  as  it  were,  through  a  lumi- 
nous mist."  1 

Snider  has  noticed  that  the  qualities  in  Othello  that 
attract  Desdemona  are  "his  bravery  against  external 
danger,"  that  is,  physical  rather  than  mental  or  moral 
qualities,  and  that  "no  feats  of  mind,  or  skill,  or  cun- 
ning are  recorded."  2     Her  love,  indeed,  seems  to  be  a 
I  kind  of  romantic  fascination,  a  love  of  the  sensuous 
^imagination,  what  Professor  Herford  properly  calls  "a 
perilous  ecstasy  of  the  idealizing  brain  without  secure 
root  in  the  heart."  3     The  last  mentioned  writer  shows 
i    clear  insight  when  he  contrasts  the  love  of  Othello  and 
I    Desdemona  with  that  of  Romeo  and  Juliet,  which  so 
"completely  possesses  and  occupies  their  simple  souls, 
that  they  present  no  point  of  vantage  for  distintegrat- 
ing  forces."  4      Apparently   it  needs   to   be   said   over 
again  that  no  conflict  arose  between  Romeo  and  Juliet, 
but  that   all  their  trouble  was  with  a  world  arrayed 
against  them.     But,  between  Othello  and  Desdemona, 
}  on  the  other  hand,  a  most  distressing  conflict  arose  that 
almost   completely   overshadowed  the   original  conflict 
and   ended   only   in    the    greatest    catastrophe   of   the 

1  Shakspere— His  Mind  and  Art,  p.  232,  13th  edition,  1906. 
2 Shakespeare  Commentaries:  Tragedies,  p.  95,  St.  Louis,  U.  S. 
A.,  1807. 

3  Eversley  Shakespeare,  Vol.  VIII.,  p.  290. 

4  Ibid.,  p.  290. 


Othello  205 

drama.     Instead  of  bearing  a  comparison,  the  loves  of 
the  two  plays  are  in  almost  every  way  a  contrast. 

The  marriage  of  Othello  and  Desdemona  was  a  union 
of  different  races  and  colors  that  the  sense  of  the 
world  has  never  approved.  The  marriage  of  black 
and  white  seems  always  to  have  been  repulsive  to  an 
Elizabethan,  as  to  a  modern  audience,  and  dramatists 
before  Shakespeare  had  always  presumed  that  to  be 
the  case.  Shakespeare  no  doubt  shared  this  feeling, 
for  in  the  two  plays  where  no  doubts  on  the  matter 
are  possible  he  follows  the  usual  tradition.  Assuming 
he  had  a  part  in  writing  the  play,  he  has  made  Aaron, 
the  Moor  of  Titus  Andronicus,  not  only  repulsive  but 
a  veritable  brute  and  as  cruel  as  Marlowe's  Barabas. 
And  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  about  whose  author- 
ship there  can  be  no  doubt,  and  which  is  earlier  than 
Othello,  he  had  previously  portrayed  a  Moor  as  a  suitor 
for  the  hand  of  Portia,  and  presented  him  as  unsuc- 
cessful. When  the  Prince  of  Morocco  chooses  the 
golden  casket,  only  to  find  "a  carrion  death"  awaiting 
him,  Portia  remarks: 

"A  gentle  riddance:  draw  the  curtains,  go. 
Let  all  of  his  complexion  choose  me  so."  1 
(II.  vii.  80-1.) 

His  color  is  recognized  as  a  natural  barrier  that  makes 
him  a  very  unwelcome  suitor.     Even  his  royalty  is  not 
to  Portia  a  sufficient  compensation.     Othello,  too,  feel-  \ 
ing  that  some  compensation  must  be  offered,  pleads  be-   i 
fore  the  senate  his  "royal  lineage,"  apparently  wishing    \ 
them  to  infer  that  with  this  outer  advantage  he  becomes 
the  equal  of  his  wife.     Desdemona  likewise  offers  her 

JThe  Stage-direction  of  the  First  Folio  calls  the  Prince  of 
Morocco  "a  tawnie  Moore."  Though  the  Prince  is  from  Morocco 
and  Othello  from  Mauritania,  to  Shakespeare  both  were  alike 
Moors. 


206  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

\  plea  and  says  she  has  found  the  necessary  compensa- 

\  tion  in  his  "mind"  and  in  his  "valiant  parts."    But  this 

does  not  appear   to  any  of  the   other  persons  of  the 

drama    or   to    the   dramatist    as    sufficient.      Marriage 

,  makes  a  demand  for  absolute  equality  between  the  par- 

•  ties,  and  is  likely  to  prove  fatal  in  those  cases  where 

vapologies  and  excuses  are  necessary. 

It  has  not  generally  been  observed  that  Shakespeare 
makes  more  of  this  racial  difference  than  did  Cinthio, 
the  Italian  original.  To  Cinthio  it  is  almost  entirely  a 
matter  of  a  difference  of  color,  which  in  itself  is  ex- 
ternal though  not  unimportant.  But  to  Shakespeare, 
fho  always  reads  deeper  than  others,  it  is  on  the  sur- 
ice  a  matter  of  color,  but  at  bottom  a  matter  of  racial 
ivergence  that  amounts  to  an  incompatibility  of  char- 
acter. It  is  this  difference  of  character  that  Shake- 
speare elevates  into  a  matter  of  the  greatest  dramatic 
importance,  as  it  appears  to  all  students  who  take  their 
notions  of  the  play  from  Shakespeare's  play  itself. 
Lamb,  freely  admitting  his  "Imperfect  Sympathies," 
remarks  that  in  readmg  the  play  we  like  to  see  Desde- 
mona  forget  Othello's  color  and  love  him  for  his  mind's 
sake, — see  his  visage  in  his  mind;  but  m  seeing  it  on 
the  stage  we  "find  something  extremely  revolting  in  the 
courtship  and  wedded  caresses  of  Othello  and  Desde- 
mona."  *  Professor  Wilson's  remark  of  more  than 
half  a  century  ago  in  Blackwood's  (1850)  is  still  to  the 
point :  "That  the  innate  repugnance  of  the  white  Chris- 
tian to  the  Black  Moorish  blood,  is  the  ultimate  tragic 
substratum, — the  'must'  of  all  that  follows."  2  And 
most  people  feel  the  same  unless  obsessed  with  some  a 

1Lamb,    Works,  London,   1870,   III,   102;   quoted  in   Furness's 
Variorum  Othello,  p.  410. 
'Quoted,  Furness,  392. 


Othello  207 

priori  notion  of  equality  that  they  profess  to  believe, 
but  never  care  to  put  into  practice. 

There  is  much  evidence  in  the  play  that  Shakespeare! 
associates  the  deficiencies  we  have  seen  in  Othello's  char-| 
acter  with  his  race  and  color.     It  is  not  important  for 
our  purpose  to  consider  the  truth  of  this  conception, 
but   enough   to   notice   that   Shakespeare   so   regarded 
it,  though  there  will  not  be  many  readers  who  will  dis- 
agree with  the  dramatist.     Shakespeare  has  done  all  he 
could  to  make  Othello  appear  a  great  soldier,  a  strong  j 
man,  and  a  noble  character,  but  cannot  free  him  from! 
the  defects  of  his  race  nor  from  the  difficulties  of  his/ 
unnatural  position.     There  is  a  magnanimity,  a  physic 
cal  daring,  even  an  intellectual  vigor,  about  him  thai 
is  in  every  way  excellent.     But  these  are  the  qualities 
of  a  noble  barbarian,  and  would  not  make  up  a  highl; 
civilized  European.     He  does  not  possess  the  finer  in-| 
tellectual  qualities,  nor  the  moral  sensibility  to  grapple! 
with  the  intricate  and  complex  problems  of  life  that) 
present  themselves  in  his  new  environment.1     When  be- 
fore the  council  he  admits  the  lack  of  the  softer  arts, 
but  he  charges  this  to  his  military  life,  and  not  to  his 
racial  extraction.     He  is,  in  fact,  everything  that  is\ 
noble  and  excellent  as  a  Moor;  but  lacking  in  the  finer/ 
graces  and  qualities  of  a  Venetian.     In  short,  Othello  is 
simply  of  a  lower  type.     Shakespeare  evidently  is  of 
the  same  mind  as  Tennyson:     "Better  fifty  years  of 
Europe  than  a  cycle  of  Cathay." 

The  play  gives  many  evidences  of  the  savage  nature  j 
which   cannot   be    restrained   by   his    acquired   virtues.  I 
Schlegel  has  remarked  that  "the  mere  physical  force 
of  passion  puts  to  flight  in  one  moment  all  his  acquired 
and  mere ,  habitual  virtues,  and  gives  the  upper  hand 
*Cf.  Herford,  Eversley  Shakespeare,  VIII,  289. 


^08  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

to  the  savage  over  the  moral  man."  1     Othello  lacks  the 
j  mental  poise   and  clear  vision  of  a  high  nature.     He 
possesses  sturdy  physical  qualities,  but  lacks  the  finer 
moral  powers.     What  Schlegel  calls  the  "tyranny  of 
/  the  blood"   asserts  itself  at  every  turn.     When  lago 
cworks  on  his  jealous  imagination  he  completely  collapses 
(and  falls  in  a  swoon.     When  he  sees  Cassio  talking  with 
,  lago,  about  Desdemona  as  he  thinks,  he  wants  to  tear 
|  him  in  pieces  at  once.     When  troubled  with  the  convic- 
tion of  Desdemona's  unfaithfulness,  he  gets  the  letter 
ordering  him  from  Cyprus,  and  when  Desdemona  ex- 
-  presses  her  pleasure  at  his  recall,  in  the  very  presence 
of  Lodovico  he  brutally  strikes  his  wife.     Then  after 
killing  Desdemona,  and  thinking  he  is   rid  of  Cassio, 
Othello  thinks  he  can  go  on  as  usual,  and  coolly  ap- 
points  lago  his   lieutenant.      The   strong  and  mighty 
warrior  is  but  a  child  in  the  control  of  his  passion,  and 
a   savage  in  his  lack   of  moral   sense.      How  different 
the   noble   Hamlet,   who    can   refrain   from  killing  the 
king  at  prayer,  and  whose  conscience  troubles  him  for 
unwillingly  giving  offence  to  Laertes. 

It  is  manifest  that  in  this  drama  Shakespeare  is 
working  on  a  special  case  that  comes  within  a  very 
large  general  principle.  The  province  of  dramatic 
art  of  course  excludes  that  of  generalization,  and  must 
necessarily  be  limited  to  a  particular  instance.  But 
the  larger  principle  upon  which  the  dramatist  is  work- 
ing is  that  of  maritnl  incompatibility,  and  to  make  out 
his  contention  he  chooses  a  case  that  not  only  exhibits 
vto  the  inner  sense  of  those  who  observe  but  also  exhibits 
jto  the  outer  sense  of  those  who  only  see.  Shakespeare 
has  in  this  play  first  taken  two  persons  joined  in  a  mar- 

1  Schlegel,  Lectures  on  Dramatic  Art  and  Literature,  Eng. 
trans.,  p.  402,  cf.  Furness,  p.  482. 


Othello  209 

I). 

riage  made  incompatible  in  the  first  instance  by  their 
spiritual  incongruities,  but  in  order  to  make  it  appear 
to  the  eye  as  well  as  to  the  mind  also  joined  in  a  di- 
versity of  race  and  color.     This  difference  of  color  is 
doubtless  intended  by  the  dramatist  merely  to  be  a  sym-l 
bol  of  the  mental  and  moral  inferiority  upon  which  the\ 
tragedy   turns.      Every    Elizabethan    playgoer    would 
at   once   recognize   Othello's   blackness   of  visage   as   a 
mark  of  spiritual  inferiority  to  the  delicate  whiteness 
of  the  fair  maid  of  Venice.     The  contrast  in  color  is 
only  a  sign  and  symbol  of  the  deep  and  fundamental! 
discrepancy  in  culture  and  spiritual  character  between  \ 
Othello  and  his  delicate  wife.     This  it  is  that  is  the  real 
cause  of  the  conflict  between  the  two,  and  that  aggra-? 
vates    into   tragedy   the   little    incidents    that   between! 
two  kindred  spirits  would  pass  off  with  no  more  than) 
a  ripple  on  the  surface  of  their  married  happiness. 

That  the  difference  of  color  is  a  real  and  not  merely, 
an  imaginary  source  of  trouble  in  the  case  of  Othello! 
may  be  further  seen  in  the  fact  that  in  the  same  way 
he  is  continually  getting  into  trouble  with  the  other 
persons  of  the  drama.  As  the  play  develops  there  is 
not  a  person  of  any  prominence  in  the  play  with  whom 
he  does  not  come  into  conflict.  His  color,  or  the  char- 
acter due  to  his  color,  before  the  play  closes  puts  him 
in  opposition  to  all  the  leading  persons  of  the  play. 
Othello  is  indeed  a  Moor,  a  noble  but  a  savage  nature, 
a  man  out  of  touch  with  his  surroundings,  who  is  vainly 
trying  to  live  his  life  among  another  people  of  a  differ-| 
ent  color  and  higher  ideals.1 

1  It  is  unnecessary  to  spend  time  discussing  the  question  whether 
Shakespeare  thought  of  Othello  as  a  negro.     Not  likely  he  made 
any  clear  distinction  between  the  various  black  peoples.    He  gives 
Othello  the  "thick  lips"  of  the  negro,  though  all  his  other  char-  \ 
actcristics  are  Moorish  rather  than  negro.    Cf.  quotations  in  Fur- 


210  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

The  difference  of  race,  and  hence  of  spiritual  char- 
acter, is  that  which  disturbs  the  marriage  of  Othello 
and  Desdemona,  and  leads  to  the  difficulty  with  lago. 
Professor  Bradley  has  made  little  or  nothing  of  this 
difference  in  his  interpretation  of  the  play,  but  in  the 
matter  of  the  personal  relations  of  Othello  with  Des- 
demona he  admits,  though  in  a  foot-note,  that  it  has 
not  been  sufficiently  realized.  He  says :  "The  effect 

{of  difference  in  blood  in  increasing  Othello's  bewilder- 

)  ment  regarding  his  wife  is  not  sufficiently  realized.  The 
same  effect  has  to  be  remembered  in  regard  to  Des- 
demona's  mistakes  in  dealing  with  Othello  in  his 
anger."  l  But  this  is  not  enough.  The  difference 

"  of  blood  is  a  factor  in  the  situation  erf  the  play 
and  the  course  of  the  plot.  There  may  or  may  not  be 
an  equality  of  the  races.  It  may  be  a  mistake  to 
regard  one  as  inferior  to  another.  But  there  is  at 

(least  a  difference,  and  a  difference  that  renders  them 

[in  some  matters  incompatible.  The  course  of  life  as 
well  as  of  this  play  presents  abundant  evidence  that 
there  is  not  enough  common  ground  for  a  permanent 
and  ethical  marriage  relationship  between  two  races  so 
different  from  one  another.  With  such  a  difference 

\Jfcere  cannot  be  a  sufficient  harmony  and  frankness  in 
concerns  of  the  deepest  mutual  interest  to  overcome 
the  difficulties  sure  to  arise  in  a  lifelong  marriage. 

!  Such  a  marriage  has  almost  fatal  handicaps  and  em- 
barrassments from  the  start.  lago,  easily  the  clever- 
est and  wisest  person  of  the  play,2  saw  this  and  planned 
to  take  a  hideous  advantage  of  it,  both  in  his  dealings 

ness  on  this  subject,  pp.  389-396,  especially  that  from  Hunter, 
p.  390. 

1  Shakespearean  Tragedy,  p.  193. 

a  Professor  Bradley  speaks  of  lago  as  "a  man  ten  times  as  able 
as  Cassio  or  even  Othello."  (Op.  cit.,  p.  221.) 


Othello 

directly  with  Othello,  and  in  his  suggestions  to  Cassio.  | 

The  self-assurance  of  Othello  when  he  saw  that  his 
elopement  was  discovered  shows  he  did  not  appreciate 
the  predicament  he  had  got  himself  into.  To  lago's 
suggestion  that  he  go  in  and  escape  the  officers  sent 
to  apprehend  him,  he  replies  with  a  rude  self-confidence : 

"Not  I:  I  must  be  found. 
My  parts,  my  title,  and  my  perfect  soul 
Shall  manifest  me  rightly." 

(I.  ii.  35-37.) 

He  was  bright  enough  to  foresee  opposition,  and  for  J~~ 
this  reason  married  secretly,  but  not  far-seeing  enough 
to  appreciate  the  character  of  the  resentment  he  would 
arouse.     Even  his  long  military  career  had  not  entirely 
eradicated  his  barbaric  view  of  his  relations  to  others,  1 
and,  as  we  have  seen  from  his  dealings  with  lago,  had/ 
not  implanted  a  high  sense  of  honor. 

It  is  only  after  Othello  has  his  wife  secure  and  is  k 
dispatched  to  Cyprus,  that  lago  reveals  the  second 
reason  for  his  hatred.  The  matter,  however,  is  of  a 
strictly  personal  nature,  affecting  the  honor  of  his 
wife,  and  therefore  cannot  be  made  known  to  Roderigo, 
and  moreover  cannot  be  entirely  proven.  But  it  serves 
to  whet  his  revenge : 

"I  hate  the  Moor, 

And  it  is  thought  abroad,  that  'twixt  my  sheets 
He  has  done  my  office.     I  know  not  ift  be  true, 
But  I,  for  mere  suspicion  in  that  kind, 
Will  do,  as  if  for  surety." 

(I.  iii.  410-14.) 

Many  critics  are  disposed  to  hold  Othello  innocent  * 
of  this  wrong,  because  the  words  of  the  play  do  not  put 
it  beyond  doubt.     So  far  as  Emilia  is  concerned,  how-| 
ever,  her  conversation  with  Desdemona  clearly  reveals  \ 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

per  as  not  invulnerable.     (IV.  iii.)     It  seems  somewhat 
ungracious,  inasmuch  as  there  is  no  proof  in  the  play, 
f ,but  many  see  in  Othello's  suspiciousness  of  women  the 
stain  of  his  own  previous  transgressions,  and  possibly 
with  Emilia.     It  will  not  do,  however,  to  conclude  with 
Snider  that  Othello  is  really  guilty  of  this  offence,  or 
to  regard  this  as  the  main  grievance  of  lago,  and  that 
upon  which  the  play  turns.     The  main  conflict  between 
/Othello  and  lago  undoubtedly  is  that  outlined  by  lago 
(in  the  opening  scene  of  the  play.     Though  there  is  no 
direct  proof  of  his  guilt  with  Emilia,  the  cloud  of  sus- 
picion  certainly   hangs    over   Othello   all   through   the 
play,  and  unavoidably  affects  our  estimate  of  his  char- 
acter.    It  apparently  suits  the  dramatist's  purpose  not 
to   remove   the   doubt,   for   it   is   mere   suspicion   upon 
Which  many  of  the  conflicts  of  the  play  turns, — this 
/among  others.      These  suspicions,  it  is   important   to 
(notice,  all  have  to  do  with  Othello's  character  and  his 
Jill-adjusted  relations  with  his  adopted  fellow-citizens. 
The   main   conflict   of  the   play,  that  between   Othello 
|  and  lago,  springs  from  well-founded  charges,  and  the 
others  from  mere  suspicions,  but  all  alike  have  to  do 
with  Othello's  relations  with  the  people  of  Venice,  and 
all  alike  show  his  inability  to  maintain  the  standards 
of  their  life. 

VI 

Having  now  studied  the  two  conflicts  into  which  the 

barbaric  nature  of  Othello  led  him,  it  is  necessary  to 

look  at  these  same  conflicts  from  the  side  of  the  other 

persons,  and  to  try  to  understand  especially  the  mind 

\  of  lago,   and  to   follow  the  unfolding  of  his   schemes 

1  as  they  affect  Desdemona,  and  the  development  of  the 

play.     The  condemnation  of  lago  has  been  so  nearly 


Othello 

universal  that  it  will  be  well  to  investigate  his  motives 
and  his  point  of  view  with  the  utmost  care. 

No  one  now-a-days  can  think  with  Coleridge  that 
lago  is  a  motiveless  villain.1  There  is  no  doubt  about 
his  villainy  and  as  Macaulay  long  ago  said  he  is  the 
object  of  universal  loathing.  There  is  a  sly  and,  /' 
unscrupulous  cunning  about  him  that  renders  it  im- 
possible for  us  to  sympathize  with  him  in  his  schemes, 
and  a  dastardly  and  unrelenting  furiousness  about  histf 
pursuit  of  his  end  that  makes  him  appear  to  love  evil/ 
for  its  own  sake,  and  that  goes  far  beyond  what  any 
sense  of  justice  could  warrant.  But  it  is  one  of  those 
strange  fatuities  of  that  character  study  that  neglects 
the  narrative  of  a  play  that  leads  Professor  Lewis 
Campbell  to  compare  lago  unfavorably  with  Macbeth.2 
The  murderer  of  Duncan  had  no  such  grievance  as  the 
destroyer  of  Othello.  The  grand  style  of  Macbeth's  ex- 
ecrable ambition  has  disguised  the  utter  iniquity  of  his 
deeds.  The  enormity  of  a  crime  does  not  make  it  less 
criminal. 

Various  explanations  have  been  offered  by  the  few 
writers,  and  these  quite  recent,  who  have  felt  the  neces- 
sity of  accounting  for  the  very  apparent  change  in  the/ 
attitude  of  lago  toward  Othello.  One  suggests  that 
the  malignity  of  lago  in  the  latter  part  of  the  play  is 
due  to  his  consciousness  of  personal  danger,  and  to 
save  himself  he  turns  to  extremes  of  cruelty  arid  re- 
venge.3 But  the  explanation  that  calls  for  most  care- 
ful consideration  is  that  offered  by  Professor  Bradley 
in  his  Shakespearean  Tragedy.  The  scant  justice  done 
by  Professor  Bradley  to  what  he  admits  is  the  popular 

1  Lectures  on  Shakespeare,  p.  388. 

2  Tragic  Drama,  by  Lewis  Campbell,  p.  239. 

3  W.  H.  Haclow,  in  Albany  Review,  same  Living  Age,  Sept.  12th, 
1908,  258:674-680. 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

view  of  lago  need  not  detain  us  longer  than  to  say  that 
his  very  popular  statement  of  that  view  has  by  no  means 
exhausted  the  depth  of  meaning  it  contains  any  more 
than  the  old  popular  form  of  the  stories  is  to  be  taken 
as  adequate  for  Shakespeare's  versions.  Leaving  this 
aside,  however,  for  the  present  with  Professor  Brad- 
ley's  criticisms  of  other  views,  let  us  notice  his  own 
theories  of  lago. 

Professor  Bradley's  view  seems  to  be  that  lago  is 
moved  by  envy  and  jealousy  of  others  in  better  posi- 
tions than  himself.  He  says,  "Whatever  disturbs  or 
wounds  his  sense  of  superiority  irritates  him  at  once; 
and  in  that  sense  he  is  highly  competitive.  This  is 
why  the  appointment  of  Cassio  provokes  him.  This  is 
why  Cassio's  scientific  attainments  provoke  him."  1 
Again  he  says  of  lago  that  "Othello's  eminence,  Othel- 
lo's goodness,  and  his  own  dependence  on  Othello  must 
have  been  a  perpetual  annoyance  to  him.  At  any  time 
he  would  have  enjoyed  befooling  and  tormenting  Othel- 
lo." 2  And  then  he  explains  lago's  casting  off  the 
mask  at  this  time  by  saying  that  "His  thwarted  sense  of 
superiority  wants  satisfaction."  3 

But  this  explanation  is  too  general  and  goes  too  far. 
If  lago  is  merely  envious  of  Cassio,  and  feels  that  his 
sense  of  superiority  is  wounded  by  the  promotion  of 
Cassio,  then  for  the  same  reason  he  should  have  beep 
envious  of  Othello  as  well,  for  as  Professor  Bradley 
himself  says,  he  is  "a  man  ten  times  as  able  as  Cassio 
or  even  Othello."  4  Up  to  this  time  lago  seems  never 
to  have  been  envious  of  Othello,  but  on  the  contrary 
served  him  as  his  faithful  and  willing  "ancient,"  until 
passed  over  in  the  promotion  of  Cassio.  He  did 

1  Shakespearean  Tragedy,  p.  221.     8  Op.  cit.,  p.  229. 

2  Op.  tit.,  p.  228.  *  Op.  cit.,  p.  221. 


Othello  215 

not  have  a  general  sense  of  superiority  and  seems  never 
to  have  thought  of  holding  himself  superior  to  those 
to  whom  he  was  by  nature  superior,  such  as  Othello,  but 
was  only  aggrieved  when  passed  over  for  a  promotion  * 
for  which  he  stood  in  line,  and  for  which  a  previous 
faithful  and  good  record  had  qualified  him.     To  admit 
that  it  was  this  that  caused  him  to  throw  off  the  "mask"\ 
of  his  friendship  for  Othello  is  to  admit  that  the  change  \ 
in  the  conduct  of  lago  is  due  to  a  grievance  which  he  / 
thought  real,  but  which  the  critic  thinks  unreal.     If 
that  is  granted  then  it  is  no  longer  a  matter  of  throw- 
ing off   a  mask,  but  of  working  for   revenge  because 
of  a  fancied  wrong.     The  drama  is  then  no  longer  a 
drama  of  intrigue  as  that  is  commonly  understood, 
becomes  a  drama  of  revenge,  which  is  a  very  different 
thing.     Given  the  deed  of  Othello  operating  upon  thei 
character  of  lago,  and  the  drama  becomes  as  contended 
the  development  of  the  deed  and  character  of  Othello. 
There  is  no  denying  the  fact  that  lago  was  a  very 
bad  man.     But  he  is  a  man,  not  a  monster,  as  some 
would  have  us  believe.     It  cannot  well  be  maintained 
that  he  takes  delight  in  evil  for  its  own  sake,  though! 
neither  can  it  be  denied  that  he  has  some  traces  of  the 
Machiavellian   villain   in   the   diabolical  nature   of  his 
revenge.1      To    show   that    lago   has   grievances   is    to 
show  that  he  has  motives,  and  to  have  motives  that  the 
play  recognizes  is  to  be  a  Shakespearean  rather  than  a 
Machiavellian  villain.     lago  is  undoubtedly  cruel  and 
unscrupulous  in  the  pursuit  of  his  revenge,  and  perhaps 
toward  the  end  of  the  play  comes  to  take  a  grim  delight 
in  pushing  the  punishment  of  his  enemies  beyond  the 

1  Professor  Stoll  has  recently  called  attention  to  the  Machiavel- 
lian characteristics  of  lago,  in  an  article  on  "Criminals  in  Shake- 
speare and  in  Science,"  in  Modern  Philology,  Vol.  X,  pp.  55-80, 
1912-13. 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

full   measure   of  the    offence,   but    even    this   does   not 

(make  him  a  fiend  incarnate.  lago  launches  his  poisoned 
darts  against  none  but  those  who  have  offended  him, 
and  who  have  stood  in  his  way.  His  initial  ambitions 
and  hopes  were  legitimate  and  proper,  but  his  relent- 
,fless  revenge  on  those  who  interfered  was  extreme  and 
.diabolical.  Yet  he  is  by  no  means  such  a  villain  as 
Macbeth  or  as  Richard  the  Third,  whose  ambitions  led 
them  through  the  blood  of  all  who  stood  in  their  way 
to  the  throne.  lago's  malignity  rests  upon  two  deep 
causes  of  real  offence  given  him  by  Othello.  He  is  not 
in  the  first  instance  the  aggressor,  but  the  sufferer,  and 
only  resents  and  tries  to  avenge  the  injuries  done  him. 
To  regard  lago  as  the  arch-villain  is  to  overlook  the 
fact  made  so  plain  in  the  play  that  it  was  Othello  that 
was  the  aggressor,  and  not  lago.  But  some  are  so  con- 
stituted that  they  can  never  see  the  evil  of  an  aggres- 
sive wrong,  but  are  ready  to  condemn  any  person  who 
refuses  to  be  a  victim  of  the  nefarious  practices  of 
others. 

To  attempt  to  discover  lago's  motives  is  not  to  jus- 
r  tify  him,  or  to  try  to  palliate  his  wickedness.  No  real 
apology  can  be  made  for  his  character  and  conduct, 
though  it  is  important  to  understand  his  mental  state.1 
His  motives  can  be  claimed  to  be  psychological^  ade- 
quate as  motives  without  admitting  that  they  are  mor- 
ally sufficient  or  justifiable.  If  we  are  to  continue  to 
think  of  Shakespeare  as  a  dramatic  genius  we  must  not 
first  put  one  of  his  characters  outside  the  human  race 
by  making  him  an  impossible  monster  and  then  pro- 
claim our  admiration  for  the  dramatist  by  declaring 
1  Under  the  title  of  "An  Apology  for  the  Character  and  Con- 
duct of  lago,"  an  attempt  was  made  to  set  right  our  ideas  of 
lago  in  a  volume  entitled  Essays  by  a  Society  of  Gentlemen  at 
Exeter,  as  long  ago  as  1796.  Cf.  Furness,  pp.  408-9. 


Othello  217 

lago  a  great  creation.     The  play  makes  him  a  humai 
being  with  human  but  evil  motives,  and  his  unscrupi 
lous  use  of  the  dupe,  Roderigo,  shows  his  criminal  hearl 
lessness.     Moreover,  it  must   be   freely   declared   thai 
the  punishment  he  meted  out  to  Othello  was  undoubt-j 
edly  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  offence  committed. ' 
He  could  not  forgive  the  injuries  Othello's  barbarism  ^ 
had  unwittingly  committed  against  him.     But  mercy, 
as  Portia  says  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice, 

"is  an  attribute  to  God  himself; 
And  earthly  power  doth  then  show  likest  God's 
When  mercy  seasons  justice." 

(IV.    i.  205-7.) 

For  lago  to  plague  Othello  to  the  murder  of  his  wife  and  I 
to  his  own  death  was  to  exact  more  than  the  utmost/ 
farthing  and  to  worship  the  spirit  of  vengeance.     Such 
Italian  revenge  becomes  diabolical,  and  destroys  what- / 
ever    sympathy    we    might    otherwise    have    for    lago. 
He  is  severe  and  unforgiving,  and  in  trying  to  revenge 
{He  wrong  done  him  undoubtedly   commits   a   greater 
wrong.     This    is    sufficient    condemnation    without    at- 
tempting to  take  away  his  humanity  by  denying  him 
any    real   motive.     Though    "honest"    throughout    his 
earlier  life,  yet  when  he  was  provoked  and  wronged  he 
was  as  unforgiving  and  vengeful  as  a  serpent.     This 
phase  of  his  character  was  a  great  surprise  to  those 
who  knew  him  best,  but  still  it  is  a  conceivable  dis- 
closure or  development. 

lago's  plan  of  revenge  was  so  comprehensive  as 
include  all  those  who  were   concerned  in  the   injuries 
he  suffered: 

"How?     How?     Let's  see. 

After  some  time,  to  abuse  Othello's  ears 

That  he  is  too  familiar  with  his  wife." 
(I.  iii.  418-420.) 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

I  This  would  at  once  feed  fat  his  revenge  on  Othello,  who 
was  the  direct  agent  in  both  his  inj  uries ;  would  enable 
him  to  strike  at  Desdemona  whose  interest  in  Cassio 
had  lost  him  the  lieutenancy;  and  at  the  same  time 
would  rid  him  of  Cassio,  whose  promotion  had  thwarted 
his  ambition.  His  boldness,  fearlessness,  and  deceit 
were  equal  to  the  task,  and  would  avail  to  use  the  gull, 
Roderigo,  for  his  purpose. 

The  storm  that  struck  the  Venetians  on  their  way 
to  Cyprus  also  struck  the  Turks,  and  did  more  com- 
plete   destruction    than    Othello's    forces    could    have 
accomplished.      This  furnished  lago  with  all  necessary 
freedom   and    opportunity   to   work   out   his    intrigues 
upon  the  company.     He  opened  his  attack  by  inciting 
i^Rbderigo  further  against  Cassio,  stirring  up  his  jeal- 
ousy by  saying  that  Desdemona  was  already  tiring  of 
Othello  and  was  even  now  in  love  with  Cassio.     Desde- 
[mona,  he  asserts,  cannot  much  longer  be  infatuated  with 
I  Othello,  but  must  turn  to  one  of  her  own  race.     "Her 
eye  must  be  fed."     She  must  have  a  man  of  a  favorable 
appearance,  which  to  them  meant  one  of  her  own  race. 
''"There  is  none  more  likely  than  her  old  friend,  Cassio, 
who  it  must  be  acknowledged  is  "a  very  proper  man." 
This  wise  observer  further  announces  the  very  reason- 
able view  that  for  a  happy   marriage  there   must  be 
"loveliness  in  favor,  sympathy  in  years,  manners,  and 
beauties;  all  which  the  Moor  is  defective  in."     (II.  i. 
262-3.)     And  lago  persuades  the  poor  fool  Roderigo 
that  if  Cassio  is  only  out  of  the  way,  then  he  will  un- 
doubtedly be  Desdemona's  next  choice. 

As   for   Othello,   there   is   no   doubt   that   he   dearly 

Cloved  the  gentle  Desdemona,   and  was  very  proud  of 

her.     As  Coleridge  said,  "Othello  had  no  life  but  in 

i  Desdemona: — the  belief  that  she,  his  angel,  had  fallen 


Othello  219 

from  the  heaven  of  her  native  innocence,  wrought  aj 
civil  war  in  his  heart."  *  He  ought  to  love  her ;  he 
had  got  the  better  of  the  bargain.  Had  he  not  loved^ 
her,  he  could  not  have  been  so  easily  put  into  dis- 
trust, and  would  not  have  been  so  moved  by  doubt. 
Indifference  does  not  breed  jealousy,  and  unconcern 
is  not  the  mother  of  distrust.  His  passion  was  \ 
not  so  much  jea,]pusy,.as.pxide,  for,  as  many  writers  have  \ 
remarked,  it  was  lago  who  was  essentially  the  jealous 
man.2  It  was  his  great  affection  that  caused  him 
feel  so  deeply  the  stain  of  dishonor.  He  had  not  him- 
self  sought  marriage  until  he  had  seen  Desdemona, 
and  even  then  she  was  half  the  wooer.  He  married  her 
for  the  one  good  and  sufficient  reason  that  he  had  fallen 
in  love,  and  had  rather  reluctantly  given  up  the  free 
life  of  the  bachelor  to  take  on  himself  the  duties  of 
matrimony.  But  love  conquered  his  objections: 

"For  know  lago, 

But  that  I  love  the  gentle  Desdemona, 
I  would  not  my  unhoused  free  condition 
Put  into  circumscription,  and  confine, 
For  the  sea's  worth." 

(I.  ii.  27-31.) 

To  put  such  a  love  into  distrust,  lago  rightly  con- 
ceived that  a  long  detour  must  be  made,  and  Cassio 
must  be  made  the  means.  The  first  step  was  to  incite 
Roderigo  to  "find  some  occasion  to  anger  Cassio"  (II. 
i.  298-9),  for  "he's  rash,  and  very  sudden  in  choler: 
and  happily  may  strike  at  you."  At  the  same  time 
lago  will  exert  himself  to  get  Cassio  drunk, 
then  he  is  "as  full  of  quarrel,  and  offence  As  my  young 
mistress'  dog."  (II.  ii.  66-7.)  The  result  of  this  will 

1  Lectures  on  Shakespeare,  p.  393. 

2  Of.  fleraud,  quoted  by    Furness,  pp.  88-9;  Tennyson,  Memoir, 
II.  p.  292. 


220  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

be  that  Othello  will  dismiss  Cassio  from  the  lieutenancy, 

and  the  coveted  post  will  fall  to  lago.     To  this  end  a 

holiday  is  proclaimed,  and  in  a  night  of  revelry   and 

carousing  lago  succeeds  in  making  Cassio  drunk.      The 

scheme    turns    out    better    than    he    anticipated,    for 

Cassio  not  only  gets  into  trouble  with  Roderigo,  but 

/also  with  Montano,  Othello's  predecessor  in  the  office 

!  of  Governor  of  Cyprus,  and  is  immediately  dismissed 

by  Othello. 

Until    now,    lago    had    apparently    formulated    no 

^definite    plan    by    which   to    make    Othello    jealous    of 

Cassio.     When  he  first  conceived  the  idea  he  intended, 

"After  some  time,  to  abuse  Othello's  ears, 
That  he  is  too  familiar  with  his  wife." 
(I.  iii.  419-420.) 

With  the  fortunate  turn  he  has  now  given  to  events, 
he  devises  a  scheme  for  abusing  Othello's  ear.  When 

i  Cassio  comes  to  him  in  great  distress  because  of  his 
fall,  and  wants  his  kind  offices,  he  advises  him  to  entreat 

1  Desdemona  to  intercede  for  him  with  Othello :  "Confess 
yourself  freely  to  her:  importune  her  help  to  put  you 
in  your  place  again.  .  .  .  This  broken  joint  between 
you,  and  her  husband,  entreat  her  to  splinter."  (II. 
ii.  347-352.)  His  delight  in  this  scheme  lago  voices 

ti  words  that  show  how  fully  he  realizes  the  diabolical 
haracter  of  the  plan.     At  the  same  time  he  reveals 
ow  fully   he  includes  Desdemona  in  his   revenge,   as 
the  instigator  of  his  injuries: 

"So  will  I  turn  her  virtue  into  pitch, 
And  out  of  her  own  goodness  make  the  net, 
That  shall  en-mesh  them  all." 

(II.  ii.  391-3.) 

Not  at  once,  but  after  the  failure  of  Cassio's   at- 
|  tempts  to  reinstate  himself  in  the  confidence  of  Othello, 


Othello  221 

fago  'is    appointed   to   the    coveted   lieutenancy.      But 
/so   much   has   he   given   himself    up   to   the   consuming 
/  fire   of   revenge    that   even   this   does    not  appease   his 
}  wrath.      Though    a    belated    vindication,    this    should 
have  satisfied  him,  and  the  fact  that  it  does  not  seems 
^o  mean  either  that  there  were  other  grievances  still 
in  his  mind,   or   that  he  had  learned  to  take  delight 
in  vengeance  for  its  own  sake.     The  truth  seems  to  be 
tthat  lago  did  not  yet  think  that  justice  had  been  meted 
put  to  Othello,  for  he  had  as  yet  suffered  nothing  for 
the,  alleged  wrong  with  Emilia.      The  fact  that  lago 
was  still  not  satisfied  when  he  had  obtained  the  desired 
^vindication  for  the  slight  in  the  promotion  of  Cassio 
JSeems  to  indicate  the  seriousness  with  which  he  looked 
Hipon  the  affair  concerning  his  wife.     The  alternative  of 
^a^suming  him  to  be  a  very  devil  for  vengeance  seems  less 
preferable,  for  it  robs  lago  of  his  human  nature  and  the 
dramatist  of  his  supreme  humanity  and  common  sense. 
It  has  often  been  thought  that  too  much  good  luck 
[follows  lago's  devices,  and  that  accident  and  chance 
wait  upon  him  too  faithfully.     Professor  (Sir)  Walter 
Raleigh    says,    very    curiously,    that   "In   Othello    the 
chances  were  all  against  the  extreme  issue;  at  a  dozen 
/  points  in  the  story  a  slip  or  an  accident  would  have 
I  brought   lago's   fabric   about   his   ears."  l      Professor 
Bradley,  apparently  possessed  by  the  same  thought, 
says  that  it  "confounds   us  with  a  feeling  .   .   .  that 
fate   has    taken    sides    with   villainy."  2     These    state- 
ments, however,   are   but   new   forms   of  the  mistaken 
fconception    that   intrigue  and  not   character   rules    in 
some   of   the  plays   of  Shakespeare.     Ulrici  long  ago 

1  Shakespeare,    "English    Men    of    Letters,"    Eversley    edition, 
p.  274.     London,  1909. 

a  Shakespearean  Tragedy,  p.  182. 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prmce 

stated  this  quite  clearly  concerning  Othello:  "The 
distinguishing  peculiarity  of  our  [this]  drama  consists 
in  its  being  a  tragedy  of  intrigue,  whereas  all  Shake- 
speare's other  tragedies  are  rather  tragedies  of  charac- 
ter." l  But  there  is  no  occasion  to  take  Othello  out 
from  the  main  body  of  Shakespearean  tragedy,  for  no 

Jess  than  the  others  it  is  a  tragedy  of  character,  but 
the  forces  and  factors  have  been  so  subtle  and  complex 
that  we  have  merely  failed  to  unravel  them.  To  re- 
gard Othello  as  a  drama  of  intrigue  would  be  to  put  it 

..  on  a  much  lower  plane  of  art  than  the  other  plays,  and 
would  also  involve  assigning  to  it  a  more  pessimistic 
and  hopeless  view  of  life  and  of  the  world.  For  this 
readers  and  students  are  scarcely  prepared. 

It  must  be  admitted  sooner  or  later  that  the  trouble' 
is  in  the  incongruous  marriage  of  Othello  and  Desde- 
mona.  To  try  to  suggest  other  ways  out  of  the 
trouble  than  are  to  be  found  in  the  play  itself  is 
simply  to  try  to  undo  Shakespeare.  For  Othello  to 
strike  down  lago  at  the  bare  suggestion  of  his  wife's 
unfaithfulness,  as  Professor  Raleigh  intimates  he  should 
do,  would  not  render  the  marriage  of  the  two  any  more 
ideal  or  any  less  unnatural.  It  would  merely  have 
lengthened  out  the  thread  of  Othello's  existence,  and 
have  afforded  time  other  opportunities  to  plan  his 
downfall.  The  hand  of  force  cannot  hold  back  moral 
!  necessities,  nor  can  outer  hindrances  prevent  the  work- 
ing of  inner  forces.  In  developing  Othello's  passion 
and  character  into  tragedy,  Shakespeare  was  experi- 
menting with  it,  and  seeing  how  it  would  work  out 
under  the  most  unfavorable  conditions.  But  to  place 
it  in  favorable  conditions  where,  perchance,  it  would 

1  Shakespeare's   Dramatic  Art,   1847,   Eng.   trans,   in   Furness, 
p.  484. 


Othello 

not  have  developed  into  tragedy  would  not  have  con- 
stituted a  thorough  study  of  this  passion.  The  dram- 
atist saw,  what  many  critics  do  not  see,  that  accident 
may  give  form  to  dramatic  problems,  and  may  hasten 
their  evolution.  But  dramatic  problems  are  not 
created  by  accidents,  and  are  not  solved  by  accidents.  ^ 
Tragedy  must  always  deal  with  essential  passion  and 
must  give  only  real  solutions  of  the  conflicts  developed. 
Much  wiser,  then,  is  the  view  of  Professor  Herford,  and 
much  more  in  accordance  with  the  spirit  of  the  play: 
"Even  the  trickery  of  lago,  gross  and  clumsy  as  it  is, 
and  poorly  as  it  would  figure  in  a  drama  of  intrigue,! 
completely  succeeds.  Othello's  love,  in  its  complexity,7, 
its  intensity,  and  its  blindness,  has  the  very  quality  of 
tragic  passion."  1 

The  situation,  then,  that  the  play  presents  is  full 
of  immense  possibilities  of  trouble  and  sorrow.  The 
relations  of  Othello  and  Desdemona  are  very  delicate 
and  exceedingly  unstable,  and  keep  them  always  in  a 
very  precarious  position.  The  unnatural  relationship^ 
of  their  marriage  has  not  given  Othello  a  secure  hold 
on  his  wife's  affections,  and  his  previous  relations  with 
women  have  been  such  as  to  make  him  peculiarly  sus- 
ceptible to  distrust.  The  difference  of  color  between, 
him  and  his  wife  is  a  matter  at  all  times  made  promi- 
nent in  the  play,  and  has  given  him  much  uneasiness, 
and  has  rendered  him  exceedingly  vulnerable,  especially 
when  a  white  man  is  involved  in  the  doubt  of  his 
wife's  fidelity.  It  would  be  a  rare  stroke  of  good  for- 
tune if  these  two  were  not  to  be  disturbed  in  their 
marital  relationships. 

Nobody  knew  better  than  the  clever  lago  how  fragile 
their  relations  were,  and  he  proceeds  at  once  to  make 
1  Introduction  to  Othello  in  the  Eversley  Shakespeare,  p.  289. 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

full  use  of  his  knowledge  and  his  opportunity.  He  very 
gladly  avails  himself  of  the  chance  to  use  Cassio  as  a 
bait  to  entrap  Othello,  for  it  was  he  that  had  obtained 
the  lieutenancy,  and  he  was  also  suspected  with  Emilia. 
He  therefore  plans  to  suggest  covertly  to  Othello  that 
Cassio  is  altogether  too  friendly  with  Desdemona,  and 
he  goes  so  far  as  to  say  that  she  "repeals  (recalls)  him 
for  her  body's  lust."  In  order  to  convince  Othello 

/  beyond   a  doubt   he   arranges  to   let  him   see   the  two 

f  together : 

".  .  .  myself,  a  while,  to  draw  the  Moor  apart, 
And  bring  him  jump,  when  he  may  Cassio  find 
Soliciting  his  wife." 

(II.  ii.  418-420.) 

Under  the  peculiar  conditions  of  her  marriage  Des- 
.  r  demona  was  exceedingly  unwise  to  manifest  so  much 
interest   in   Cassio.     No    matter    if   he   had   been   her 
^  friend  before  her  marriage  and  had  indeed  helped  to 
bring  the  marriage  about,  she  should  have  realized  how 
fragile  were  her  relations  with  her  husband.     It  never 
seems  to  have  entered  her  simple  mind,  however,  that 
her  relations   with  her   Moorish  husband   needed   any 
solicitous   care   on  her  part.     lago's  plot  to  destroy 
*  their  marriage  was  exceedingly  bold  and  clumsy,  and 
as  Professor  Herford  has  said,  "ill-calculated  ...  to 
wreck  a  normal  marriage;  but  it  is  launched  against  a 
relationship  so  delicately  poised  that  a  touch  suffices 
for  its  ruin."  *     Othello,  with  only  the  training  of  the 
,  "tented   field,"    and    Desdemona    with    none    but    that 
^gained  in  her  father's  home  and  under  his  tuition,  were 
ill-fitted  to  maintain  in  peace  a  marriage  that  required 
the  most  consummate  care  and  the  most  delicate  bal- 
ancing.   It  is  doubtful  if  Desdemona  was  any  more  able 
1  Op.  cit.t  p.  291. 


Othello 

for  this  difficult  task  than  Othello.  Her  interest  in 
another  man,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  he  was  an 
old  friend,  was  quite  as  dangerous  an  enemy  to  their 
peace  as  Othello's  willingness  to  listen  to  "honest  lago." 
Desdemona's  childlike  wilfulness  was  well  matched  by  **" 
Othello's  Moorish  dullness. 

Much  has  been  written  on  the  excellence  of  lago's  art 
of  suggestion.     The   subtlety,   the   cleverness,  the  vil- 
lainy of  his  schemes  are  in  strange  contrast  with  the 
tragic  perversity  of  Othello  in  being  suspicious  of  his 
wife  and  unsuspicious  of  lago  and  everybody  else.     The 
pathetic  thing  is  that  Othello  persisted  in  believing  lies, 
and  could  not  be  made  to  believe  the  truth.     The  dis-/ 
parity  between  him  and  his  wife,  that  rendered  a  com- 
plete union  of  hearts   and  minds  impossible,  was   the 
cause  of  his  suspicion  and  distrust.     This,  and  not  the/ 
mere  circumstances  of  their  lives,  was  the  real  source  - 
of  the  tragedy.     And  the  external  unlikeness  of  race 
and  color  of  the  old  story  has  been  transformed  by 
Shakespeare  into  but  the  dramatic  sign  and  symbol  of  I 
an  inner,  deeper,  and  spiritual  incompatibility. 

This  is  all  in  accordance  with  Shakespeare's  dramatic 
method  to  be  seen  in  other  plays  as  well.  He  simply 
followed  in  this  play  the  same  plan  he  adopted  in  other 
plays  when  he  transformed  the  old  romance  of  Othello 
by  making  the  external  disparity  of  the  old  story  over 
into  an  inner  incongruity  of  spirit.  It  was  the  drama- 
tist's practice  in  adapting  earlier  dramatic  material  not 
to  change  the  entire  meaning  of  the  story  or  play,  but. 
to  widen  and  deepen  it,  and  give  it  more  vital  and) 
moral  significance.  This  he  did  in  Romeo  and  Juliet, 
The  Merchant  of  Venice,  Hamlet,  and  many  other 
plays.  The  tragedies  of  life  are  not  due  primarily  to 
unlikeness  of  favor,  or  to  any  other  external  difference, 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

\but  to  irreconcilability  of  spirit  and  of  aims  and  ideals. 
In  the  case  of  Othello,  if  the  difference  had  been  one  of 
complexion  only,  and  no  deeper,  it  would  have  taken 
more  than  the  withering  taunts  of  lago  to  unsettle  its 

;  peace.  But  back  of  the  color  was  the  deeper  and  fun- 
damental conflict  of  spirit  that  was  the  real  object 

j  of  lago's  incitement.  lago  made  full  use  of  the  diver- 
sity between  the  two  when  urging  Roderigo  into  his 
service,  and  shows  that  he  recognizes  not  only  the  di- 
versity in  "favor,"  but  also  that  of  "years,  manners, 
and  beauties."  When  inciting  Othello,  however,  he 

''makes  reference  only  to  the  one  that  could  be  seen  with 
the  eye,  for  Othello  was  a  man  of  the  senses : 

"I  may  fear 

Her  will,  recoiling  to  her  better  judgment, 
May  fall  to  match  you  with  her  country  forms 
And  happily  repent." 

(III.  iii.  276-9.) 

^The  Moor's  lack  of  the  essential  elements  of  culture 
and  civilization  has  not  been  sufficiently  observed. 
Othello  is  not  a  man  of  intellect,  but  lives  his  life  almost 
wholly  in  the  senses.  When  lago  presents  to  him  indi- 
cations of  Desdemona's  wrong-doing,  he  asks  at  once 
to  be  given  "ocular, proof.'5  He  can  believe  only  what 
he  sees.  Evidence  other  than  "ocular"  means  nothing 
to  him.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  the  evidence  of  the 
handkerchief  appeals  so  strongly  to  him.  Against  this 
(evidence  of  the  senses,  all  the  fondness,  the  sweetness, 
vand  the  tenderness  of  Desdemona  pass  for  nothing. 
Perfect  frankness,  the  very  quality  Desdemona  lacked, 
might  have  overcome  his  suspicion.  But  her  manifest 
embarrassment  at  the  accusation  only  added  fuel  to  the 
fires  of  distrust,  and  he  adds:  "My  mind  misgives." 
(III.  iv.  106.)  The  two  lacked  harmony  and  com- 


Othello 

munity  of  feeling  from  the  outset,  and  the  process  of 
time  could  scarcely  fail  to  bring  about  that  rupture 
that  would  be  tragedy. 

In  order  to  deceive  Othello  it  is  only  necessary  for 
lago  to  confuse  his  senses.  His  masterpiece  of  dis- 
simulation  was  the  interview  with  Cassio  concerning 
Bianca,  in  which  lago  contrives  to  make  Othello  think 
the  conversation  is  about  Desdemona.  As  only  seeing 
is  believing  to  Othello,  the  entrance  of  Bianca  con-/ 
vinces  Othello  beyond  a  doubt  that  Cassio  is  a  man 
not  to  be  trusted.  The  pity  of  it  is  that  Othello  can- 
not believe  the  very  one  he  most  loves  and  should  most 
completely  trust.  He  is  afraid  to  expostulate  with 

J  ; -_Jt. m. 

Desdemona  lest  her  beauty  deprive  him  of  resolution. 
Like  the  half-savage  he  is,  he  cannot  let  her  speak  for 
herself,  for  he  has  concluded  she  is  guilty,  and  he 
cannot  endure  contradiction.  Naturally,  Desdemona 
cannot  give  him  "ocular  proof"  of  her  innocence,  and 
nothing  less  will  satisfy  him.  He  therefore  concludes; 
to  kill  her  at  once,  "this  night,"  and  only  at  lago'st 
suggestion  defers  instant  action,  in  order  to  carry  out 
a  more  perfect  retribution  by  strangling  her  in  the  I 
bed  she  has  polluted. 

Yet  this  is  the  man  that  on  certain  levels  of  life  and 
under  certain  conditions  had  wonderful  self-control. 
Apparently  to  all  his  old  friends  his  nobility  and  self- 
control  were  among  his  outstanding  characteristics. 
Professor  Bradley  has  remarked  that  "He  has  greater 
dignity  than  any  other  of  Shakespeare's  men,"  x  and 
it  may  be  remarked  very  much  greater  dignity  than  his 
Julius  Caesar.  But  his  recall  from  Cyprus,  leaving 
Cassio  in  his  place,  serves  as  the  occasion  of  a  com- 
plete  loss  of  self-control.  When  Desdemona  shows 
1  Shakespearean  Tragedy,  p.  190. 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

j  pleasure  at  the  prospect  of  return  to  Venice,  Othello 
/  mistakes  her  meaning,  and  the  elemental  passion  in 
j  him  is  aroused  to  storm  and  fury.  His  rage  is  un- 
•  bounded,  and  so  completely  masters  him  that  he  bursts 
\  all  self-restraint,  and  strikes  his  wife,  calling  her 
'  "Devil,"  and  roaring  at  her,  "Out  of  my  sight." 

(IV.  i.  271,274.) 

Such    barbaric    fury    had   never    been    seen    in    him 

oefore,  and  was  entirely  unsuspected  even  by  his  friends. 

Lodovico  asks  in  amazement : 

"Is  this  the  noble  Moor,  whom  our  full  senate 
Call  all  in  all  sufficient?     Is  this  the  nature 
Whom  passion  could  not  shake?    Whose  solid  virtue 
The  shot  of  accident,  nor  dart  of  chance 
Could  neither  graze,  nor  pierce?" 

(IV.  i.  295-9.) 

For  the  second  time,  then,  Othello  has  proved  himself 
deficient  in  the  high  virtue  of  self-command  required  of 
him  in  his  adopted  life  in  Venice  and  in  the  lofty  posi- 
tion he  held  in  the  state.     His  treatment  of  his  wife  on 
*'this  occasion  is   of  a  piece  with  his  treatment  of  his 
"ancient."     Both   were   brutal   and   inexcusable   viola- 
..  tions  of  the  rights  and  dignity  of  others,  but  one  only 
]  ended  in  physical  violence.     With  all  his  military  prow- 
ess and  power  of  command  over  others,  Othello  had  not 
acquired  the  more  civilized  virtues  of  self-command  and 
respect  for  others. 

U'Nothing  could  now  stop  the  fury  of  Othello's  anger. 
He  could  endure  affliction,  sores,  shames,  poverty,  and 
captivity ;  he  could  even  endure  to  be  "The  fixed  figure 
for  the  time  of  scorn,  To  point  his  slow,  and  moving 
finger  at" ;  but  he  says  he  could  not  bear  "where  I  have 
garner'd  up  my  heart  ...  to  be  discarded  thence!" 
(IV.  ii.  64-70.)  He  could  not  endure  to  be  discarded 
by  the  one  he  loved.  To  be  chosen  by  Desdemona  with 


Othello 

iher  eyes  open,  and  then  to  be  cast  off  for  another,  a 
Icountryman  of  her  own,  was  too  much  of  a  disappoint- 
Iment  for  him  to  bear.  Such  humiliation  in  Venice  he 
will  not  endure,  and  it  is  no  surprise  to  hear  lago  say 
that  Othello  plans  to  quit  Venice  for  his  own  native 
Mauritania  with  his  bride,  and  there  once  more  his  royal 
blood  will  be  acknowledged  and  honored. 

The  modern  critics  of  Shakespeare  have  not  been 
satisfied  with  calling  Othello's  passion  jealousy.  Cole- 
ridge was  one  of  the  first  to  dissent  from  the  old 
accusation.1  It  is  very  certain  his  passion  is  not  the 
same  in  kind  as  that  of  Leontes  in  The  Winter's  Tale. 
There  is  no  creeping  suspicion.  He  does  not  weave  up 
the  web  of  his  distrust  from  material  of  his  own  contriv- 
ing. It  never  dawns  upon  him  that  there  is  any  ground 
for  suspicion  until  the  suggestions  of  lago.  It  is  not 
jealousy,  then,  but  as  Professor  Bradley  says,  "It  is 
the  wreck  of  his  ¥aith  and  his  love"  that  move  him.2 
Misfortune  he  could  endure,  but  not  dishonor.  To  be 
cast  off  by  Desdemona  for  one  who  was  his  inferior, 
his  own  lieutenant,  was  an  affront  to  his  pride  that 
was  too  much  to  bear.  He  that  fetched  his"wbt>3  from 
men  of  royal  seige  could  not  endure  to  be  made  in- 
ferior to  his  own  lieutenant.  Othello  was  a  very  proud  Y 
man,  and  boasted  his  royal  lineage.  He  had  no  sus-  j 
picions  that  Desdemona  could  ever  hold  any  one  in 
higher  esteem  than  himself,  and  the  suggestion  that 
she  was  false  with  Cassio  was  an  intimation  to  him 
that  her  heart  was  not  satisfied  with  the  dignity  his 
name  had  given  her. 

The  thought  that  she  was  not  satisfied  with  him,  a 
husband  of  royal  descent,  ^s  a  new  thing  to  him.     It 

1  Lectures  on  Shakespeare,  pp.  381,  386,  393,  477,  529. 

2  Shakespearean  Tragedy,  p.  194. 


230  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prmce 

involved  the  inferiority   of  himself  and  his   race,   and 
,  this  he  could  not  endure.      No  other  person  had  ever 
dared   to    do    an   act   that   suggested   in    any   way   his 
inferiority,  and  he  would  not  take  it  even  from  his  wife, 
i  All  his  resentment  was  kindled,  and  he  sprang  to  his 
/own  defence,  and  even  in  the  presence  of  the  Venetian 
/  envoy  he  would  strike  down   such  an  insult.     It  was 
not  jealousy,  and  not  mere  wounded  honor,  that  en- 
raged Othello,  but  outraged  pride.     It  was  not  Desde- 
mona  who  had  brought  dignity  and  position  to  him  by 
the  marriage.     It  was  he  that  had  conferred  dignity 
and  royalty  upon  her.     He  could  not  endure  any  act 
that  disparaged  the  high  dignity  of  his  birth,  and  made 
him  to  be  the  inferior  of  a  common  Venetian.     For 
this  he  was  never  able  to  forgive  Cassio,  and  in  time 
promoted  lago  to  the  lost  lieutenancy,  for  he  at  least 
would  never  challenge  the  dignity  of  his  commander  by 
any  act  like  that  of  Cassio. 


VII 

And  now  for  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter. 
Shakespeare's  final  scenes  are  of  equal  importance  with 
his  first  scenes.  In  the  opening  scenes  he  sets  before 
his  audience  the  various  persons  who  enter  into  the 
conflict,  and  indicates  the  lines  of  their  collisions.  In 
;the  concluding  scenes  he  draws  the  whole  matter  to  a 
Imoral  and  dramatic  culmination  that  is  in  effect  his 
judgment  upon  the  problems  of  the  play.  *  Here  he  dis- 
entangles the  various  threads  that  he  has  woven  into 
the  complexity  of  the  plot,  -and  in  so  doing  gives  his 
verdict  upon  the  merits  ofrjjfrjg  conflict.  In  no  play  is 
it  more  important  to  observe  the  outcome  and  the  des- 
tiny assigned  to  the  persons  of  the  drama  than  in 


Othello 

Othetto. 

Even  before  the  conclusion  of  the  fourth  act  lago's 
schemes  begin  to  be  discovered.  Roderigo  is  the  first 
to  get  his  eyes  open,  and  this  makes  it  necessary  for 
lago  to  use  the  last  desperate  chance  to  get  rid  of 
both  him  and  Cassio.  Othello,  too,  must  be  kept  on 
the  rack,  and  must  be  kept  from  suspecting  the  plots 
against  him.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  turning  back 
now,  and  indeed  lago  gives  no  evidence  of  regret  at 
having  gone  so  far,  or  of  a  desire  to  retrace  his  steps. 
He  is  whole-hearted  in  his  villainy,  and  only  desires 
the  fulfilment  of  his  plans.  His  persuasive  craftiness \ 
has  kept  both  Roderigo  and  Cassio  unconsciously  serv- 
ing him,  while  they  are  led  toward  their  own  undoing.  I 
When  he  has  got  all  the  service  they  can  render  him^s 
he  adroitly  turns  them  upon  each  other.  No  tears 
need  be  shed,  however,  over  the  sick  fool,  Roderigo,  for 
this  gentleman,  when  he  could  not  get  Desdemona  for 
his  wife,  gave  himself  and  his  money  up  to  an  attempt 
to  corrupt  her  as  the  wife  of  Othello.  Cassio,  how- 
ever, has  been  the  more  or  less  innocent  victim  of  the 
friendship  of  Othello  and  the  envy  of  lago,  and  the 
dramatist  makes  him  survive  all  the  intrigues  of  his 
enemy,  and  at  last  places  him  in  the  governorship  of 
Cyprus  as  the  successor  of  Othello. 

With  the  austerity  of  a  judge  the  dramatist  has 
Othello  carry  out  the  sentence  of  destruction  on  his 
wife  and  on  himself.  The  Moor's  ferocious  passion  ^ 
arms  him  to  execute  his  vengeance  upon  Desdemona. 
With  coolness,  but  with  heavy  sorrow,  he  enters  thd 
bed-chamber  of  his  wife,  to  destroy  her  whose  supposed 
transgression  had  ruined  his  Jhappiness  and  almost  his 
life.  The  wild-beast  fury  of  his  anger  has  exhausted 
itself,  and  gives  way  to  a  calm  and  steady  purpose  to/ 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

carry  out  unflinchingly  his  "great  revenge."  Othello 
is  able  now  to  approach  his  sleeping  wife,  and  charge 
her  to  her  face  with  unfaithfulness,  and  warn  her  to 
make  preparation  for  her  death.  He  is  more  like  a 
(heathen  sacrificer  than  an  assassin,  and  has  no  more 
1  compunctions  about  his  task  than  the  priests  in  the 
sacrifices  of  the  religion  of  his  fathers.  He  is  to  purge 
Desdemona  from  her  sins,  and  perhaps  purify  her  in 
her  death.  Against  such  convictions  the  beautiful  inno- 
cence and  pitiful  pleadings  of  his  Venetian  bride  are 
\  all  in  vain,  and  this  Moorish  giant  hardens  his  heart 
for  the  sacrifice.  This  great  soldier,  who  had  once 
taken  by  the  throat  and  smitten  "a  malignant,  and  a 
turban'd  Turk"  (V.  ii.  427)  now  with  the  same  strong 
hands  and  remorseless  soul  stifles  the  wife  of  his  bosom. 
But  in  her  death  he  quite  as  surely  crushes  out  his 

hopes,  and  cannot  long  survive  the  foul  deed. 
Poor   Desdemona!     In   marrying   Othello   she   little 
thought  she  was  committing  her  all  to  a  man  who  on 
mere  suspicion  would  not  hesitate  to  take  her  life.     But 
the  girlish  creature  could  not  be  expected  to  know  the 
ways  of  other  peoples.     Having  chosen  Othello  with- 
out her  father's  consent,  she  must  now  abide  by  the 
fatal  decision.      She  is  innocent  and  lovely,  but  is  want- 
ing in  experience,  and  in  open-mindedness  and  trans- 
parent honesty.     She  had  deceived  her  father  in  marry- 
,mg  Othello ;  she  had  deceive4  Othello  himself  about  the 
jhandkerchief ;   and  now  in  her  dying  hour  she  would 
\shield  her  husband  from  his   crime  by  deceitfully  de- 
Waring  she  had  done  it  herself.     But  Othello,  with  his 
1  free  and  open  nature,  as  from  the  beginning  when  he 
was  willing  to  be  found,  will  not  have  it  so,  and  bluntly 
owns  the  deed.    £j>"tJiere  any  wonder  he  thought  her 
deceiving  him  when  she  protested  her  innocence  in  the 


Othello  233 

face  of  what  appeared  to  him  most  certain  evidence 
of  her  guilt?  What  he  knew  of  her  had  not  prepared 
him  to  believe  her  against  all  others,  or  fortified  him 
against  thinking  her  deceitful. 

Critics  have  been  loath  to  admit  any  wrong-doing  in 
Desdemona.  Though  carried  out  in  deception,  herj 
claim  that  she  was  the  cause  of  her  own  death  was! 
no  doubt  prompted  by  a  spirit  of  the  most  exalted 
and  most  devoted  self-sacrifice.  Her  self-accusation t^- 
was  the  index  of  her  devotion  to  her  husband.  Recog- 
nizing this,  and  other  good  traits,  critics  have  lauded 
her  excellences,  and  one  has  called  her  "the  most  love- 
able  of  Shakespeare's  women."  Professor  Raleigh 
pictures  her  as  all  but  perfect,  having  only  a  few 
trifling  and  insignificant  faults,  and  no  vices,  and  even 
these  are  lost  to  sight  in  her  last  triumphant,  though 
tragic  hours.  He  speaks  of  her  "as  a  saint,"  2  and 
says  that  "Desdemona  and  Othello  are  both  made  per- 
fect in  the  act  of  death."  3  Professor  Bradley  speaks 
in  equally  strong  terms  when  he  says:  "She  tends  to^ 
become  to  us  predominantly  pathetic,  the  sweetest  and 
most  pathetic  of  Shakespeare's  women,  as  innocent  as 
Miranda  and  as  loving  as  Viola,  yet  suffering  more 
deeply  than  Cordelia  or  Imogen."  4 

This,  however,  is  again  to  refuse  to  see  what  the 
play  itself  presents  directly.  It  is  to  form  our  own 
opinion  of  Desdemona  without  respect  to  what  the 
play  asserts  and  without  regard  to  the  judgment  of 
the  dramatist  as  shown  in  the  destiny  he  assigns  to  her. 
Her  faults  stand  out  in  the  play  so  clearly  that  he  whol 
runs  may  read,  but  he  who  only  fancies  may  conceiv-* 

1  Rose,  quoted  in  Furness,  p.  429. 

z  Shakespeare,  p.  271. 

8  Op.  cit.,  p.  274. 

4  Shakespearean  Tragedy,  p.  203. 


23  i  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

ably  miss  them.  Her  shortcomings  cannot  be  glossed 
over,  as  has  been  attempted  by  the  writers  mentioned; 
but  on  the  other  hand  it  is  not  necessary  to  let  them 
crowd  out  of  view  her  many  excellences.  Some  writers, 
such  as  Heraud  and  Snider,  have  probably  unduly 
magnified  her  weakness.  A  true  criticism  will  depend 
on  the  play  itself  for  the  facts  and  for  the  inferences. 
With  all  her  beauty  and  devotion,  and  with  all  the 
many  charms  of  character  she  possesses,  nevertheless, 
the  fact  cannot  be  ignored  that  her  wil  fulness*  her_in- 
discretion,  and  her  romantic  impulsiveness  were  danger- 
ous qualities,  and  in  the  peculiar  conditions  of  her 

/marriage  with  Othello  it  was  these  that  worked  out 
her  undoing.  Under  other  conditions  they  might  not 
have  developed  into  anything  serious,  but  it  was  the 
art  of  Shakespeare  to  place  her  in  conditions  that  would 
show  the  essential  character  of  her  mind  and  bring  out 
her  passion.  Her  relations  with  Othello  were  such 
conditions,  and  her  character  was  soon  shown  as  one 
that  would  not  disdain  to  use  her  influence  with  him 
to  reward  her  favorites,  and  to  upset  the  traditions 
of  military  advancement.  There  need  be  little  sur- 
jprise,  then,  that  she  loses  the  confidence  of  her  hus- 
jband.  And  with  Othello  as  her  husband,  this  was  to 
'sow  the  seeds  of  tragedy. 

It  would  be  easy  to  make  too  much  of  her  little 
"fibs,"  especially  of  that  about  the  handkerchief.  But 
\her  innocent  self-blackening  as  she  lay  on  her  death- 
ibed  was  a  kind  of  perverseness.  Her  whole  tone  was 

!>#pologetic  for  her  husband,  and  indicated  an  uncon- 
scious appreciation  of  the  fact  that  all  her  life  with  him 
was  false  and  unnatural.  It  is  only  to  show  this  trait 
of  character  as  belonging  to  her  family  to  observe  as 

|  Lloyd   has   done   that   the   punishment   falls   upon   her 


Othello 

father  as  well  as  upon  her.  Brabantio  no  doubt  was 
the  first  "to  belie  his  own  daughter's  chastity"  as 
Lloyd  remarks,1  but  he  too  was  punished.  Not 
having  been  true  to  herself  in  the  beginning,  it 
was  not  to  be  expected  that  she  should  always  be 
regarded  as  true  to  her  husband.  Her  continued 
interest  in  Cassio  betrayed  unconsciously  the  unsatis- 
fied spiritual  union  with  Othello.  She  thought  she  was 
"Subdued  even  to  the  very  quality"  of  her  lord;  but 
a  marriage  that  calls  for  either  one  to  be  "subdued" ! 
to  the  other  is  not  an  equal  marriage,  and  is  in  constant* 
danger.  There  were  so  many  obstacles  to  a  natural 
and  happy  marriage  between  Othello  and  Desdemona, 
that  it  is  very  doubtful  if  any  lago  was  really  needed1"" 
to  foment  an  internal  conflict  sooner  or  later.  It 
would  be  only  a  most  fortunate  turn  of  events  or  of 
chance  if  such  a  marriage  were  to  escape  disaster. 

The  ease  with  which  evidence  to  refute  lago  is  ob-^, 
tained   after   the   death   of   Desdemona   proclaims    the 
fatalism  that  dogged  Othello's  steps.      Emilia  has  but 
to  tell  what  she  knows  about  the  handkerchief,  and  that 
ghost  is  slain.     The  part-confession  of  lago,  and  the 
explanations   of   Cassio,    fully   dissolve    the    remaining1"* 
evidence    into   nothing    and    convince    Othello    that   he 
has  been  grievously  duped.     But  in  spite  of  his  mar-V 
riage,  Othello  had  no  real  union  with  Desdemona,  and  j 
did  not  enter  in  any  way  into  the  more  intimate  life/ 
of  her  spirit.     Othello  as  a  Moor  lived  in  real  isolation 
in  Venice,  and  nowhere  in  the  play  had  he  any  bosom  *-* 
friends.     He  had  no  companions  except  his  own  under- 1 
officers,  and  now  even  lago  appears  as  his  friend  only' 
to    serve   his    turn   upon   him.      He    was    admired    and 
honored  as  a  soldier  by  the  Venetians,  by  lago  as  well 
1  Furness,  p.  80. 


236  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

as  by  Brabantio,  but  nowhere  was  received  as  one  of 
themselves  except  by  the  ill-fated  Desdemona.  Hence 
rOthello  could  not  gain  from  others  the  evidence  to 
\refute  lago,  for  he  was  not  on  sufficiently  intimate 
terms  with  any. 

It  is  to  Othello's  credit  that  his  grief  at  his  fatal 
error  is  unbounded,  and  he  express.es  himself  in  what 
js  probably  the  most  passionate  self-reproach  in  Shake- 
^  eare.  He  nobly  accepts  the  responsibility  as  his  own, 
and  condemns  himself  for  it  all,  even  forgetting  in  his 
self-loathing  to  attach  any  blame  to  lago.  He  recog- 
/nizes  it  as  his  own  tragedy,  not  blaming  Desdemona 
[in  the  least.  She  had  joined  her  life  to  his,  and  so 
shared  his  fate,  but  the  two  were  in  no  such  manner 
co-agents  in  the  tragedy  as  were  Antony  and  Cleopatra. 
We  pity  Desdemona  and  we  pity  Othello,  scarcely  know- 
ing which  to  pity  most,  for  to  both  the  whole  thing  was 
a  mistake  rather  than  a  crime.  But  it  was  primarily 
Othello's  mistake,  as  the  naming  of  the  play  implies. 
The  greater  age  and  experience,  and  presumably  the 
greater  wisdom,  must  make  Othello  chiefly  responsible. 
'  for  the  tragedy.  As  we  think  it  all  over,  Othello's  many 
excellent  qualities  and  his  undoubted  devotion  to  the 
fair  Desdemona  come  to  our  mind,  and  we  cannot  con- 
demn him  as  bitterly  or  think  of  him  as  harshly  as  he 
thinks  of  himself: 

"O,  cursed,  cursed  slave! 
Whip  me,  ye  devils, 


[la, 


From  the  possession  of  this  heavenly  sight: 
Blow  me  about  in  winds,  roast  me  in  sulphur, 
Wash  me  in  steep-down  gulfs  of  liquid  fire. 
Oh,  Desdemon!  dead  Desdemon:  dead.    Oh,  Oh!" 

(V.  ii.  339-344.) 


When  it  was  all  over,  Othello  came  to  a  clearer  vision, 
fand  saw  the  elements  of  tragedy  that  had  entered  into 


Othello  237 

his  marriage,  and  saw  that  these  were  nothing  else 
than  his  own  personal  and  racial  character  and  his 
own  conduct.  He  begged  that  explanation  might  be 
made,  and  with  infinite  pathos  besought  his  friends  not 
to  think  unduly  hard  of  him,  for  he  had  meant  well : 

"I  pray  you  in  your  letters, 
When  you  shall  these  unlucky  deeds  relate, 
Speak  of  me,  as  I  am.     Nothing  extenuate, 
Nor  set  aught  down  in  malice. 
Then  must  you  speak, 
Of  one  that  lov'd  not  wisely,  but  too  well: 
Of  one,  not  easily  jealous,  but  being  wrought, 
Perplexed  in  the  extreme." 

(V.  ii.  413-420.) 

This  should  rid  even  the  harshest  critic  of  speaking  any 
condemnation,    and    bespeak    for    Othello    the    fullest  (* 
measure  of  sympathy  and  pity.     We  respect  him  all 
the  more,  and  are  the  more  convinced  of  the  sincerity  ; 
of  his  love  for  Desdemona,  from  the  fact  that  he  can- 
not endure  to  prolong  his  own  life  after  he  has  slain ; 
his  "sweet  love." 


VIII 

The  "moral"  of  Cinthio's  novel  cannot  be  taken  off- 
hand as  the  moral  of  Shakespeare's  play.  The  drama- 
tist had  a  way  of  infusing  his  own  dramatic  purpose  into 
stories  already  devoted  to  a  quite  different  aim.  Many 
differences  are  to  be  noticed  between  the  novel  and 
the  play.  In  the  romance,  Desdemona  meets  death  at 
the  hand  of  lago,  by  arrangement  with  Othello, — a 
more  gruesome  and  more  unlikely  fate  than  that 
assigned  by  Shakespeare.  If  Desdemona  is  to  be  killed 
at  all,  and  by  the  conventions  of  the  tragedy  of  the 
day  this  seems  inevitable,  then  it  should  be  by  the 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

one  with  whom  she  had  the  most  vital  conflict.     This 

person   was   undoubtedly   no   other  than   Othello  him- 

\  self,  for  it  is  her  marriage  with  him  that  is  the  real 

i  fatality.     In  order  to  emphasize  this,  Shakespeare  has 

greatly  changed  her  relations  with  lago,  and  has  made 

much  more  prominent  than  Cinthio  her  relations  with 

Othello.      Consistently  with  this  change  in  point  of  view, 

the  dramatist  must   change  also  her  executioner,  and 

accordingly  gives   this   horrible   task  to  her  husband. 

'/The  play   is   Othello's  play,   and  the  chief  conflict  is 

With  his  wife.      Othello  must  therefore  work  out  to  the 

bitter  end  the  collision  which  he  began. 

In  the  romance,  again,  Othello  is  banished,  and  in 
the  end  is  discovered  and  put  to  death  by  Desdemona's 
kinsmen.  But  this  improperly  regards  and  treats  him 
as  a  criminal.  jOthello  wasjnot  a  criminal,  for  he  did 
not  plan  the  harmolTliny^one,  and  wasjiot  distinctly 
conscious  of  wronging  Desdemona  in  the  marriage,  and 
even  in  her  death  he  thought  he  was  only  undoing  a 
wrong.  His  remorse  comes  from  seeing  his  mistake, 
land  is  not  a  moral  repentance  for  a  great  and  recog- 
jnized  crime.  He  had  scarcely  thought  of  marriage 
with  Desdemona  at  all,  much  less  did  he  deliberately 
plan  an  elopement,  until  her  own  words  gave  him  a 
hint.  But  as  he  was  much  older  and  more  experienced, 
Mie  virtually  took  advantage  of  her  youth  and  inno- 
cence, and,  moreover,  defied  both  her  father  and  the 
custom  of  the  state.  If  the  marriage  was  a  failure 
rLw.as.Jie.  that  made  it  such,  and  he  should  be  the  avenger 
<;  of  the  wrong  upon  himself.  The  distinctive  yet  bar- 
baric qualities  that  made  his  marriage  fail  were  the 
/very  qualities  that  also  made  it  impossible  for  him  to 
survive  the  failure. 

The  dramatist  makes  Cassio,  the  innocent  object  of 


Othello  239 


Desdemona's  concern  and  the  innocent  means  of 
to  lago,  very  properly  survive  and  succeed  to  the 
governorship.  He  had  both  good  and  bad  qualities, 
but  at  no  time  contrived  against  the  welfare  or  life 
of  any.  There  is  nothing  in  the  play  to  make  us 
think  that  he  sought  to  dispossess  lago  in  accepting 
the  position  of  lieutenant  to  Othello.  Even  by  the  ad- 
mission of  lago,  he  was  "a  very  proper  man,"  and 
though  inexperienced  in  war,  he  was  educated  for  high 
military  positions,  and  had  the  confidence  of  the  senate, 
and  was  chosen  to  succeed  Othello  once  the  pressing  ' 
danger  from  the  Turks  was  past.  Into  his  hands  as 
such  lago  was  committed  at  the  close  of  the  play  for 
torture  and  punishment  for  his  part  in  the  catastrophe. 
The  romance  of  Cinthio  represents  lago  as  put  to  death, 
but  Shakespeare  evidently  thought  his  intrigues  were 
not  without  cause,  if  not  without  justification,  and  left 
it  to  Cassio  to  determine  his  punishment. 

From  this  conclusion  of  the  play,  it  seems  impossible. 
to  escape  the  conviction  that  according  to  Shakespeare 
intrigue  was  only  the  outer  form  of  the  tragedy,  not 
its  essence.     At  bottom,  as  with  all  the  plays  of  Shake- 
speare, it  was  a^Jtragedjjaf  ^  charactex:*     Like  that  of» 
Romeo  and  Juliet  the  new  marriage  was  subject  from\ 
the  first  to  an  external  conflict,  but  unlike  Romeo  and  I 
Juliet   it   also    had    from    the    outset   a   deep   internal 
dissension  that  finally  was  the  cause  of  its  disruption. 
The  sweet  and  pure  love  of  Romeo  and  Juliet  could 
rise  above  the  rivalry  of  their  contending  houses,  and 
in  the  end  managed  to  resolve  the  age-long   conflict. 
But  the  essential  conflict  of  Othello   and  Desdemona' 
was  emphasized  by  every  difficulty  in  their  lives,  andf 
the  tragic  end  points  the  moral  of  the  danger  of  suchf 
incongruous  marriages. 


* 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prmce 

lago  is  therefore  not  the  cause  of  the  tragedy,  which 
lies  deeper  in  the  unnatural  union  of  two  such  diverse 
spirits  as  Othello  and  Desdemona.  The  theme  of  the 
play  is  not  the  manner  in  which  the  happiness  of  a 
newly-wedded  pair  can  be  destroyed  by  intrigue  and 
lies,  but  the  subject  of  the  play  is  the  vain  attempt  of 
Oloor,  noble  but  barbaric,  to  live  the  life  of  a  Venetian, 
as  the  husband  of  a  Venetian  maid.  His  marriage 
ith  Desdemona  is  the  occasion  of  difficulty  with  one  of 
is  subordinate  officers,  and  this  in  turn  reacts  upon 
his  married  relationships  and  destroys  him.  The 
trouble  with  him  was  that  he  was  essentially  uncivilized. 
Surrounded  by  all  the  forms  and  institutions  of  culture 
he  remained  barbaric.  In  the  midst  of  the  highest 
I  civilization  he  retained  the  rude  instincts  of  his  fathers. 
Possessed  of  the  highest  intellectual  training  that  the 
military  life  could  give  he  was  yet  ungoverned  by 
reason  but  by  passion.  Othello  had  enjoyed  the  ad- 
vantages of  Venice,  but  he  had  not  attained  to  its  level 
of  civilization.  He  had  acquired  the  forms  but  had  not 
achieved  the  moral  standards  of  Venetian  culture. 

Shakespeare  is  evidently  trying  to  show  that  civili- 
zation at  bottom  consists  of  moral  culture.  Othello 
had  intellectual  ability,  he  had  acquaintance  with  the 
ideals  of  civilization,  and  yet  he  remained  at  heart  a 
barbarian.  He  had  not  developed  the  high  sense  of 
honor  and  right  that  constitutes  true  culture.  He 
was  lacking  in  the  moral  sense  that  alone  distinguishes 
barbarism  and  civilization.  His  honor  had  not  kept 
pace  with  his  culture,  and  his  moral  nature  had  not 
?  been  trained  as  much  as  his  mind.  Lacking  the  civilized 
moral  nature  the  instruments  of  culture  and  the  oppor- 
tunities of  Venice  became  for  him  only  the  means  of 
his  own  destruction. 


Othello 

This  is  the  character  of  some  of  the  great  tragedies 
of  men  and  of  nations.     Intellectual  training,  even  the> 
highest  education,  does  not  make  either  a  man  or  at 
nation  civilized.     A  culture  that  has  no  moral  basis, 
but  is  built  on  intellectual  attainments,  is  not  true  civi- 
lization at  all.     An  unmoral  civilization  is  only  barbar- 
ism, and  a  culture  that  has  no  sense  of  honor  is  only 
savagery.     Not  having  moral  discernment,  it  does  not\/ 
recognize  its  own  brutality,  but  like  Othello  boasts  of 
its  superior  nature.     Othello  had  acquired  enough  Vene-j 
tian  culture  to  demand  the  highest  honor  of  those  abouti 
him,  but  had  not  attained  the  moral  character  that\ 
would  extend  the  same  honor  to  them.     Though  bap- 
tized he  had  not  acquired  the  Christian  moral  virtues, 
and   the   grace    of   giving   only   what   he   would    take. 
He  was  still  essentially  barbaric ;  he  was  not  thoroughly  ^ 
Christian. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  it  was  the  opinion  of  the 
dramatist  that  Othello's  inability  to  rise  to  a  real  moral 
character  was  due  in  large  part  to  his  inferior  nature. 
Othello  was  morally  dull  and  obtuse  because  he  was  a 
Moor.  Without  the  deep  moral  sense  of  the  civilized 
nations,  Othello  is  unable  to  bear  up  under  the  weight 
of  the  higher  requirements  of  life  in  his  adopted  city. 
He  has  brought  with  him  his  lower  Moorish  nature, 
and  it  will  not  bear  the  strain.  He  has  attained  the 
intellectual  but  has  failed  to  acquire  the  moral  ele- 
ments of  civilization,  and  his  pride  and  ambition  de- 
stroy him.  Under  the  weight  of  cultivated  life,  two 
classes  of  persons  inevitably  fail ;  those  of  a  lower  type 
who  destroy  themselves  with  the  instruments  of  culture, 
and  the  defective  of  the  same  type  who  are  the  criminal 
class.  Shakespeare  has  many  studies  of  persons  of  the 
latter  class,  but  only  one  of  the  former,  namely,  Othello. 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

There  need  be  no  quarrel  with  Shakespeare  about  his 
views  of  race  inequality.  In  the  days  of  the  opening 
up  of  the  new  world,  and  of  the  discovery  of  new 
jjeoples  in  the  old,  the  European  nowhere  found  evidence 
jof  any  race  the  equal  of  those  on  his  own  continent. 
Shakespeare  himself  probably  had  little  or  no  acquaint- 
ance with  non-European  races,  but  drew  his  conclusions 
about  race  inferiority  from  what  we  might  now  regard 
as  insufficient  evidence.  Nevertheless,  except  for  those 
who  reason  from  a  priori  grounds,  the  world  is  still 
waiting  for  evidence  of  the  equality  of  the  races.  The 
doctrine  of  equality  seems  a  splendid  and  noble  thing, 
provided  your  daughter  is  already  safely  married  to 
one  of  your  own  race.  It  is  quite  possible,  of  course, 
that  difference  does  not  mean  inequality,  but  difference 
is  almost  as  much  a  barrier  to  a  happy  marriage.  For 
the  interpretation  of  the  drama,  at  any  rate,  we  must 
v  let  Shakespeare  have  his  way,  and  permit  him  to  infer 
\  that  Othello's  fatal  shortcomings  are  due  to  his 
^  Moorish  blood.  Perhaps  with  a  dusky  bride  in  Mauri- 
tania Othello  might  have  been  not  only  a  great  general, 
but  a  happy  and  unsuspicious  husband.  But  in  Venice 
he  met  only  disaster. 

In  every  way  Shakespeare  has  greatly  enlarged  the 
meaning  of  Cinthio's  novel.  The  romance  draws  the 
lesson  that  Desdemona  is  a  warning  to  Italian  ladies 
not  to  "wed  a  man  whom  nature  and  habitude  of  life 
estrange  from  us."  l  Quite  different  is  the  dramatist's 
meaning.  Shakespeare's  larger  theme  is  not  the  ill- 
assorted  marriage  of  Othello  and  Desdemona,  but  the 
\sad  career  of  the  Moor,  Othello,  as  an  ill-adjusted 
/citizen  of  Venice,  who  because  of  his  inferior  nature 
Igets  into  fatal  difficulties  with  his  Venetian  subordinate 
1Eng.  trans,  in  Furness,  p.  384. 


Othello 

iand  with  his  Venetian  wife.  The  fatal  marriage  is  but 
one  of  his  difficulties,  though  it  is  the  most  absorbing  in 
interest  and  the  most  tragic. 

We  all  sincerely  pity  Othello,  because  of  his  inherentVx 
nobleness.  He  did  naught  in  malice,  as  he  wished  none 
would  do  to  him.  But  in  the  intricate  and  trying  rela- 
tions of  his  adopted  life  in  Venice,  and  especially  of 
his  marriage  with  the  fairest  of  Venetian  maidens,  he 
was  "perplexed  in  the  extreme,"  and  gave  way  under 
the  strain.  His  barbaric  passion  overcame  him,  and 
unable  to  recover  himself,  he  went  forward  to  his 
wife's  and  his  own  destruction.  His  primitive  spiritual 
nature  was  not  equal  to  the  life  of  the  highest  civiliza-j 
tion.  His  rude  nobleness  could  not  meet  the  demands 
of  a  finer  moral  culture,  and  he  went  down  to  defeat. 
But  we  do  not  condemn  him,  for  his  motive  was  not 
evil.  We  only  pity  him,  and  weep  over  the  fate  of  both 
Othello  and  his  Venetian  bride. 


KING  LEAR: 

A    TRAGEDY    OF    DESPOTISM 


CHAPTER    V 
KING  LEAR: 

A    TRAGEDY    OF    DESPOTISM 


THE  play  of  King  Lear  has  probably  evoked  from 
readers  and  critics  alike  more  definite  apprecia- 
tion of  the  play  as  a  whole  and  more  dissent  from 
certain  phases  of  the  development  of  the  plot  than  any 
other  of  the  great  plays  of  Shakespeare.  As  a  work  of 
dramatic  art,  and  as  a  portrayal  of  the  intensest  human 
passion,  the  play  has  been  accorded  unstinted  praise. 
The  tremendous  passions  of  the  various  persons,  and 
their  ungoverned  indulgence,  have  given  a  titanic 
strength  to  the  drama  that  all  have  readily  felt,  and 
that  critics  have  said  cannot  be  reproduced  by  any 
actors.  The  supreme  artistic  skill  displayed  by  the 
dramatist  in  the  construction  of  the  mighty  play  has 
compelled  all  to  stand  in  awe  at  his  unparalleled  genius. 
The  acknowledged  improbability  of  the  action  has  not 
detracted  from  the  full  recognition  of  the  intense 
human  probability  of  the  passion.  Perhaps  more  than 
any  other  Shakespearean  play,  the  plot  seems  framed 
for  the  portrayal  of  the  passions,  rather  than  the 
passions  for  the  plot,.  The  passions  of  both  plot  and 
underplot  are  intensely  human,  and  each  helps  to  make 
the  other  appear  more  dramatically  real. 


248  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

But  there  has  not  been  such  unanimity  concerning 
Shakespeare's  conduct  of  the  narrative.  Beginning 
with  Doctor  Johnson,  there  has  been  a  strong  inclina- 
tion, much  more  than  is  the  case  with  other  plays,  to 
doubt  the  instinct  and  judgment  of  the  dramatist  in 
the  treatment  of  the  characters  in  relation  to  the  plot. 
The  changes  made  by  Shakespeare  in  the  story,  these 
critics  think,  are  a  serious  departure  from  the  usual 
good  dramatic  judgment  of  the  author.  The  altera- 
tion he  made  in  the  story  of  Cordelia,  giving  her  a 
tragic  ending,  they  think,  is  a  lapse  from  the  justice 
and  appropriateness  that  ordinarily  mark  his  moral 
judgment.  For  almost  two  centuries,  therefore,  Shake- 
speare's conclusion  to  the  story  was  repudiated,  and 
other  versions  substituted  by  all  great  actors.  It  is 
only  quite  recently  that  in  this  and  in  other  matters 
public  opinion  has  come  round  to  the  dramatist's  ver- 
dict, and  restored  the  true  Shakespearean  versions, 
though  still  not  without  the  misgivings  of  many. 

There  has  been  little  question,  however,  about  the 
dramatic  relations  of  the  various  persons  to  one  an- 
other, though  the  theme  of  the  play,  or  the  meaning  of 
the  story  as  a  whole,  has  often  been  misconceived. 
Everybody  understands  the  relations  that  exist  between 
Lear  and  his  daughters,  but  a  mistake  is  frequently 
made  in  thinking  that  the  theme  is  the  ingratitude  of 
the  daughters,  and  the  consequent  suffering  on  the 
part  of  their  father.  We  are  only  beginning,  however, 
to  display  a  confidence  in  Shakespeare,  and  to  take  his 
statements  on  such  matters  as  all  but  final.  In  all  the 
various  editions  for  which  he  can  in  any  way  be  re- 
sponsible the  play  is  named  after  the  king  himself. 
The  story  is  primarily  the  story  of  King  Lear,  and  only 
incidentally  the  story  of  the  daughters.  The  quartos 


King  Lear  249 

of  1608  both  call  it  The  True  Chronicle  Historic  of  the 
Life  and  Death  of  King  Lear  and  his  three  Daughters; 
but  in  the  folio  of  1623  the  name  of  the  king  alone 
appears  in  the  title,  which  reads  The  Tragedie  of  King 
Lear.  The  reference  to  the  Chronicle  History  has 
disappeared,  and  the  daughters  are  no  longer  men- 
tioned in  the  title.  This  is  in  accordance  with  the  true 
theme  of  the  play,  which  portrays  primarily  King 
Lear  in  the  mental  and  moral  imbecility  that  developed 
with  his  growing  habit  of  despotism,  and  only  second- 
arily the  tragic  effects  of  this  despotism  in  the  in- 
gratitude of  his  daughters. 

The  parallel  action  of  the  Duke  of  Gloucester  and 
his  sons  helps  to  make  the  main  dramatic  action  clear, 
and  to  emphasize  the  part  of  Lear  himself.  But  it 
complicates  the  plot  to  such  an  extent  that  many  see 
in  the  play  very  grievous  faults  of  construction.  It 
may  be  said,  ^however,  that  what  tends  to  make  the 
main  theme  more  prominent,  and  to  reflect  light  upon 
it,  cannot  really  interfere  with  the  unity  of  the  whole 
or  weaken  its  general  effect. 

The  discussion  of  the  double  story  has  long  been 
carried  on,  but  no  better  defence  has  been  made  than 
by  Schlegel.  After  speaking  of  the  resemblances  and 
the  contrasts  between  the  plot  and  the  underplot,  he 
says  that  the  additional  case  of  trouble  between  father 
and  children  portrayed  in  the  Gloucester  story  adds 
imaginative  probability  to  the  Lear  story,  by  leaving 
the  impression  that  those  were  the  days  of  foolish 
parents  and  ungrateful  children.  ,  They  are  both  un- 
usual and  unnatural.  "But  two  such  unheard  of  ex- 
amples taking  place  at  the  same  time  have  the  appear- 
ance of  a  great  commotion  in  the  moral  world;  the 
picture  becomes  gigantic  and  fills  us  with  such  alarm 


250  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

as  we  should  entertain  at  the  idea  that  the  heavenly 
bodies  might  one  day  fall  from  their  appointed 
orbits."  1  It  would  seem  that  in  King  Lear  the  drama- 
tist was  not  only  working  out  his  views  of  individual 
human  life,  but  that  now  at  last  he  was  definitely 
working  on  a  world  view,  and  had  passed  from  the 
individual  to  the  universal  order. 

With  this  in  mind,  it  would  seem  to  be  a  great  mis- 
take to  resign  ourselves,  as  some  do,  to  the  conception 
that  the  play  is  an  enigma,  and  that  it  is  impossible  to 
justify  the  dramatist  in  his  modifications  of  the  origi- 
nal plot.  Many  critics  do  not  believe  the  play  is  or  is 
intended  to  be  a  solution  of  the  problem  presented, 
but  are  content,  with  Professor  Dowden,  to  speak  of 
"the  moral  mystery,  the  grand  inexplicableness  of  the 
play."  l  The  same  writer  consoles  himself  in  this  atti- 
tude of  mind  by  saying  in  the  manner  of  a  realist  that 
"If  life  proposes  inexplicable  riddles,  Shakespeare's  art 
must  propose  them  also."  3 

But  a  mere  portrayer  of  human  life  as  he  sees  it, 
Shakespeare  refuses  to-be.  His  grasp  of  life's  prob- 
lems is  too  firm,  and  his  insight  too  clear,  to  let  his 
readers  long  think  that  he  regarded  life  as  a  riddle. 
Life  did  not  seem  an  enigma  to  the  men  of  his  genera- 
tion. In  those  "spacious  times,"  with  curious  and 
wonderful  new  worlds  opening  continually  to  their 
astonished  minds,  life  may  have  been  a  task,  but  it  was 
not  a  puzzle.  In  those  days,  poets  and  philosophers 
alike  were  offering  all  sorts  of  solutions  of  life  and  its 
problems,  and  it  is  not  likely  that  Shakespeare  stood 
apart  from  his  age.  It  may  or  may  not  be  that  the 

1  Lectures    on   Dramatic   Art   and   Literature,    English   trans., 
p.  412. 

2  Shakspere— His  Mind  and  Art,  p.  265,  13th  edition. 

3  Op.  tit.  p.  258. 


King  Lear  251 

greatest  of  the  poets  was  able  to  unravel  the  tangle 
of  existence,  but  it  is  more  than  likely  that  he  tried  to 
do  so,  and  that  he  regarded  his  drama  as  more  than  a 
mere  statement  of  the  problem. 

ii 

The  play  is  clearly  Lear's  story.  It  has  been 
thought  by  some  that  the  Gloucester  story  is  the  first 
thread  of  the  drama.1  Though  Gloucester  rather 
than  Lear  participated  in  the  opening  conversation, 
it  is  Lear  that  is  the  subject,  and  it  is  Lear's  action 
out  of  which  everything  develops.  Lear's  division 
of  his  kingdom  is  the  first  act  recorded,  and  is  the 
subject  of  the  opening  words  of  Kent  and  Glouces- 
ter, as  Lear  and  his  daughters  come  upon  the  stage. 
Apparently  the  division  of  the  kingdom  has  already 
been  decided  upon,  and  all  that  remains  is  for  the 
king  to  announce  its  actual  accomplishment.  But 
Lear  has  kept  his  purpose  dark,  and  no  one,  not  even 
Kent,  can  tell  what  principle  shall  govern  in  the 
division.  It  is  suspected,  however,  by  Gloucester  that 
Lear  will  be  influenced  by  the  affection  he  bears  his 
several  daughters  and  their  husbands. 

As  soon  as  he  enters  Lear  proceeds  to  unfold  his 
"darker  purpose"  that  he  has  not  yet  made  known. 
All  three  daughters,  it  is  likely,  have  known  of  his 
intention,  and  eagerly  awaited  the  division.  Calling 
for  a  map  he  announces  that  he  has  made  the  division 
into  three  parts,  but  that  he  has  not  yet  determined 
to  which  of  his  daughters  to  give  each  part.  Appar- 
ently he  has  not  made  an  equal  division,  though  from 
his  words  to  Albany  and  Cornwall  it  may  be  inferred 

1  Snider,  op.  cit. 


252  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

that  two  of  the  parts  are  substantially  equal.  This  is 
later  made  clear  when  he  tells  Regan  her  portion  is 

"No  less  in  space,  validity,  and  pleasure, 
Than  that  conferr'd  on  Goneril." 

(I.  i.  80-1.) 

But  the  third  division  reserved  for  Cordelia  was  "more 
opulent"  than  that  given  to  her  two  sisters.  Thus 
would  he  show  his  preference  for  Cordelia.  The  other 
two  had  long  been  aware  of  his  partiality,  as  Goneril 
later  reminds  Regan,  "He  always  loved  our  sister  most." 
(I.  i.  298-9.) 

Lear's  division  of  the  kingdom  is  generally  considered 
a  mere  whim,  and  evidence  of  his  fantastic  character.1 
Such  a  policy  of  favoritism  could  result  only  in  jeal- 
ousy and  strife,  and  in  a  primitive  state  of  society 
possibly  in  civil  or  tribal  war.  Even  if  the  principle 
of  division  had  been  good,  the  scheme  itself  was  bad, 
and  with  two  such  queens  as  Goneril  and  Regan,  there 
would  surely  have  been  trouble.  But  with  his  foolish 
plan  for  the  division,  the  fiercest  kind  of  conflict  was 
altogether  likely. 

Though  Lear  would  seem  to  divide  the  realm  accord- 
ing to  the  love  his  several  daughters  had  for  him,  his 
real  intention  was  to  make  the  largest  gift  to  Cordelia, 
whom  he  thought  loved  him  most,  and  from  whom  he 
expected  the  greatest  returns  of  gratitude.  He  ex- 
pected, of  course,  that  she  would  prove  the  one  who 
loved  him  most.  There  was  but  slight  desire  on  his 
part  to  abnegate  himself,  but  he  had  instead  a  strong 
though  unconscious  desire  to  exalt  himself  in  the  act  of 
parting  with  his  kingdom.  He  kept  as  we  say  a  string 
to  his  kingdom,  and  while  seeming  to  part  with  it, 
would  make  it  more  truly  than  ever  his  own,  by  attach- 
1  Cf.  Franz  Horn,  Furness's  Variorum  King  Lear,  pp.  451-2. 


King  Lear  253 

ing  his  daughters  more  completely  to  him.  He  would 
give  his  kingdom  to  his  daughters  only  in  exchange  for 
a  more  complete  devotion  to  him,  and  would  make  them 
pledge  their  very  souls  to  him  in  the  act  of  inheriting 
his  kingdom.  Lear  would  make  his  little  world  more 
completely  ego-centric  than  ever,  and  would  give  the 
most  opulent  part  only  to  the  one  completely  devoted 
to  him.  Their  love,  not  his,  was  to  be  the  measure  of 
their  inheritance,  and  their  love  for  him  he  thought 
would  be  his  best  guarantee  of  continued  and  even 
greater  deference.1 

Lear  was  not,  however,  without  some  real  affection 
and  generosity,  and  some  desire  to  please  his  daugh- 
ters. His  wish  to  gratify  their  ambition  was  sincere, 
but  was  not  his  strongest  motive.  He  was  not,  how- 
ever, conscious  of  any  other  motive,  and  credited  him- 
self solely  with  generosity,  though  as  the  action  de- 
velops we  can  see  that  his  scheme  was  after  all  but  the 
best  way  of  serving  his  own  interests.  Instead  of  being 
king  of  Britain  he  would  become  ruler  over  the  three 
queens  of  Britain,  and  by  this  means  his  sceptre  like 
mercy  would  be  enthroned  in  the  hearts  of  kings,  and 
be  more  secure  than  any  other  form  of  power. 

The  days  of  King  Lear  were  the  days  of  absolute 
monarchs.  This  conception  taken  from  an  earlier 
age,  Shakespeare  transferred  and  applied  to  his  own, 
which  had  not  yet  entirely  settled  the  matter  of 
sovereignty  with  their  kings.  In  the  days  of  Queen 
Elizabeth,  and  still  more  in  those  of  James  the  First 
when  the  play  was  written,  the  rights  of  sovereigns  was 
a  very  live  question.  Shakespeare,  interested  in  the 
moral  and  spiritual  life  of  individuals,  had  evidently 

1C/r.  Tolstoi's  curious  conception  of  King  Lear,  in  his  essay 
on  Shakespeare. 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

studied  this  problem  of  tyranny  very  carefully.  The 
effects  of  absolutism  on  the  political  arid  even  spiritual 
life  of  the  people  were  well  known,  but  no  one  before 
had  attempted  to  depict  its  dire  influence  upon  the 
king  himself.  In  King  Lear  the  dramatist  undertakes 
to  portray  the  blighting  effects  of  absolutism  on  the 
/  spirit  of  the  monarch,  and  to  show  that  the  other 
evils  grow  from  this.  It  is  not  the  subjects  of  despots 
who  suffer  most,  but  the  despots  themselves.  No  per- 
son can  enslave  another  without  subjecting  himself  to 
a  worse  bondage.  Slaves  are  less  injured  by  slavery 
than  are  the  masters. 

Shakespeare  had  given  much  thought  to  the  question 
of  kings.  In  the  plays  based  on  English  history  he 
had  depicted  kings  good  and  bad,  and  had  shown 
something  of  his  conception  of  the  true  king  in  Henry 
the  Fifth,  the  last  of  the  series.  Then  when  he  came 
to  the  period  of  his  greatest  tragedies,  he  again  dealt 
with  the  problem  of  monarchy.  In  Julius  Ccesar  he 
had  shown  the  danger  of  ambition  for  power,  and  in 
Macbeth,  generally  considered  earlier  than  King  Lear, 
had  shown  how  utterly  debasing  an  unscrupulous  desire 
for  kingship  may  become.  Now  in  King  Lear  he  takes 
up  the  legendary  story  of  Lear  and  exhibits  what  Snider 
has  well  called  "the  disease  of  absolute  authority." 
Shakespeare  pictures  King  Lear,  under  the  fawning 
\  obedience  and  flattery  of  his  subjects  and  his  family, 
as  developing  an  almost  infinitely  exaggerated  concep- 
tion of  himself,  and  as  finally  going  to  pieces  on  this 
submerged  rock  of  egoism. 

It  is  not  sufficient  explanation  of  the  improbable  and 
exaggerated  conditions  depicted  in  King  Lear  to  say 
that  Shakespeare  refers  them  to  the  barbarous  times 
1Op.  tit.,  p.  155. 


King  Lear  255 

of  Celtic  Britain.  Though  the  names  and  incidents 
are  taken  from  that  early  period,  the  problems  and 
the  passions  belong  rather  to  the  dramatist's  own  time. 
A  mistaken  tendency  is  shown  by  some  critics  in  sup- 
posing that  because  Shakespeare  had  the  universal  habit 
of  mind,  he  therefore  did  not  have  the  particular; 
that  because  he  belongs  to  all  time  he  wrote  for  no 
special  time.  But  there  need  be  no  doubt  that  the 
man  who  never,  probably,  published  one  of  his  dramas, 
wrote  with  his  eye  particularly  on  his  own  age  and 
country.  Though  he  draws  his  stories  from  all  ages, 
Shakespeare,  not  having  the  historian's  but  the  poet's 
temper,  writes  strictly  for  his  contemporaries.1 

A  growing  tendency  among  critics,  unfortunately  not 
yet  become  universal,  is  to  study  Shakespeare  in  the 
light  of  his  own  age.  Even  if  the  dramatist  did  lack 
the  historic  sense,  there  is  no  excuse  for  students  of  our 
age  to  ignore  history,  but  all  the  more  reason  to  view 
Shakespeare  as  an  Elizabethan.  It  is  because  he 
ignored,  as  was  inevitable,  the  inner  and  even  many 
of  the  outer  differences  between  his  own  and  earlier 
ages,  that  we  must  be  especially  careful  to  remember 
that  Shakespeare  was  an  Elizabethan.  Lear  and  other 
such  plays  cannot  be  explained,  therefore,  by  referring 
them  to  the  barbarism  of  earlier  times.  Shakespeare 
was  giving  us  a  picture  of  Elizabethan  passions,  in- 
tensified for  purposes  of  study,  and  embedded  in  a 
Celtic  environment.  The  outer  forms  only  belonged 
to  a  legendary  period,  and  these  not  with  true  historical 
accuracy;  but  the  problem  of  the  play  was  modern 
in  Shakespeare's  day,  and  for  that  matter  is  still 
modern.  Absolutism  has  by  no  means  disappeared 
even  from  communities  avowedly  democratic,  and  is 

*Cf.  Snider,  op.  cit.,  p.  129. 


256  Hamlet,  cm  Ideal  Prince 

the  special  vice  of  certain  modern  institutions.  And 
no  one  was  better  able  than  Shakespeare  to  depict 
the  evils  attendant  upon  tyranny.1 

True  to  the  spirit  of  the  despot,  Lear  has  no  inten- 
tion of  laying  aside  any  real  power  in  transferring  his 
kingdom  to  his  daughters.  Coleridge  has  noticed 
"Lear's  moral  incapability  of  resigning  the  sovereign 
power  in  the  very  act  of  disposing  of  it."  2  Kreyssig 
says:  "It  is  only  the  burthen  and  duties  of  empire 
that  the  tired  old  king  wishes  to  be  rid  of.  That  his 
regal  rights  can  suffer  changes,  never  occurs  to  him."  3 
Snider  says :  "Tired  of  the  cares  of  government,  yet  not 
weary  of  its  pomp  and  outward  show,  he  proposes  to 
resign  the  reality  of  power  and  yet  retain  its  appear- 
ance— to  play  the  king  and  yet  be  freed  from  the 
troubles  of  kingship." 

With  these  opinions  about  Lear  there  can  be  little 
dispute.  The  old  king  makes  only  a  show  of  self- 
abnegation.  In  the  very  act  of  giving  away  he  makes 
new  and  greater  demands  than  ever.  He  gives  away 
only  the  burdens  and  not  the  prerogatives  of  king- 
ship, yet  wishes  his  act  to  be  thought  magnanimous. 
He  transfers  the  duties  but  not  the  rights  of  sov- 
^  ereignty,  yet  desires  to  be  considered  generous.  His 
love  for  his  daughters  has  none  of  the  marks  of  sacri- 
fice, but  demands  a  more  complete  sacrifice  and  sub- 
jection  on  their  part.5  This  it  is  important  to  notice 
if  we  are  to  understand  the  development  of  the  play, 
for  it  is  on  this  pseudo-sacrifice  that  the  plot  ulti- 
mately turns. 

*C/.  Snider,  op.  cit.  p.  152. 

2  Op.  cit.  pp.  335-6. 

3  English  trans,  in  Furness,  p.  461. 

4  Op.  cit.,  p.  153. 

5  Of.  Snider,  op.  cit.  p.  157. 


King  Lear  257 

Thus  is  seen  the  effect  of  absolutism  on  the  moral 
nature  of  Lear.  In  acquiring  unlimited  sovereignty 
over  his  dominion  and  over  his  family,  he  had  com- 
pletely lost  sovereignty  over  himself.  His  whims  and 
his  caprice  have  utterly  usurped  the  seat  of  govern- 
ment in  his  bosom,  and  he  has  become  the  servant  and 
even  the  slave  of  unreasoning  passion.  He  could  no 
longer  see  himself  as  one  among  many,  but  thought  of 
himself  as  the  absolute  ego,  forgetting  entirely  the 
rights  of  other  persons.  His  native  vanity,  so  long 
flattered,  had  grown  to  an  ungovernable  passion,  and 
had  incapacitated  him  for  considering  anyone  but  * 
himself.  Hence  even  the  apparent  renunciation  of  the 
kingship  was  but  a  disguised  attempt  to  gain  still 
greater  power.  His  daughters,  who  in  growing  into 
womanhood  and  in  marrying  had  unconsciously  passed 
partly  from  his  control,  would  by  this  act  once  more 
be  brought  within  his  power.  His  apparent  loosening 
of  his  hold  on  them  would  but  bind  them  tighter  to 
him. 


in 

Lear's  scheme  of  the  trial  by  professions  of  love  was 
considered  by  Coleridge  to  be  but  a  trick  contrived 
by  Lear  to  afford  Cordelia  an  opportunity  to  show 
herself  more  worthy  than  her  sisters,  and  thus  win 
the  most  opulent  third  of  the  kingdom.  He  calls 
attention  to  the  fact  that  Lear  had  the  division  all 
prearranged  when  he  first  appears  in  the  play,  and 
that  he  had  planned  to  give  Cordelia  the  largest  part. 
The  trial  of  love,  then,  was  to  give  Lear  an  excuse  to 
favor  Cordelia,  with  whom  he  intended  to  live,  for  he 
had  no  doubt  she  loved  him  most,  and  would  quite 


258  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

surpass  her  sisters  in  her  declaration.1  To  this  whim, 
then,  Lear  would  add  favoritism,  making  his  division 
of  the  kingdom  doubly  culpable  and  dangerous.  Ulrici 
thought  Lear's  motive  in  the  whole  affair  was  to  con- 
vince himself  by  the  daughters'  public  avowal  of  love 
that  he  could  abdicate  without  danger  to  himself.2 
Professor  Bradley,  however,  suggests  that  Lear's  plan 
was  not  so  inherently  foolish  as  has  been  thought.  He 
is  the  first,  it  seems,  to  observe  that  it  was  not  part  of 
Lear's  intention  to  live  alternately  with  his  three  daugh- 
ters, but  only  with  his  favorite,  Cordelia  : 

"I  loved  her  most,  and  thought  to  set  my  rest 
On  her  kind  nursery." 

(I.  i. 


If  this  plan  had  been  carried  out,  says  Professor 
Bradley,  "it  would  have  had  no  such  consequences  as 
followed  its  alteration."  3  But  it  was  its  inherent  bad 
qualities  that  prevented  its  success.  No  amount  of 
wisdom  on  the  part  of  Cordelia  would  have  made 
Lear's  foolish  plan  wise,  but  it  might  have  discounted 
some  of  its  folly,  and  rendered  it  less  harmful.  This 
is  her  condemnation,  that  she  did  not  prevent  her 
father's  folly,  when  it  was  plainly  her  duty  to  accom- 
modate herself  to  the  whims  of  his  old  age. 

The  fatal  error  of  Lear,  apart  from  the  inherent 
fatality  of  the  original  scheme,  was  to  make  the  declara- 
tions of  love  an  open  trial.  This  gave  a  false  advan- 
tage to  the  untrue  but  outspoken  Goneril  and  Regan, 
and  called  upon  the  true  love  of  Cordelia  to  take  the 
form  of  adulation  and  flattery  —  a  position  always  dis- 

1  Of.  Perrett,  Story  of  Lear  from  Monmouth  to  Shakespeare. 
Reviewed  in  Modern  Language  Review,  October,  1905.    Of.  p.  71. 
*Cf.  English  trans,  in  Furness,  p.  9. 
9  Shakespearean  Tragedy,  p.  250. 


King  Lear  259 

liked  by  virtue.  But  it  was  all  in  keeping  with  the  false 
character  of  Lear  which  had  learned  to  live  and  thrive 
better  on  falsehood  than  on  truth.  Flattery,  not  true 
affection,  was  that  which  his  soul  craved.  This  is 
peculiarly  the  vice  of  rulers. 

Lear  accepts  and  seems  satisfied  with  the  empty 
protestations  of  the  two  older  daughters  and  is  pleased 
with  their  empty  words.  Which  should  appear  to  love 
him  most  depended  on  which  should  speak  last.  Each 
was  ready  to  outdo  the  other  in  flattery.  Both  were 
ambitious  and  unscrupulous,  and  had  learned  the  lan- 
guage of  empty  adulation  in  maintaining  cordial  rela- 
tions with  their  father.  Neither  really  loved  him,  but 
both  were  ready  to  exhaust  the  language  of  affection 
in  order  to  gain  an  enlarged  inheritance.  No  better 
evidence  could  be  given  of  the  false  life  of  vanity  and 
flattery  that  Lear  had  cultivated  than  this  attitude  of 
his  daughters  toward  him.  Children  naturally  have  a 
true  love  for  their  parents,  but  when  fathers  eat  sour 
grapes  their  children's  teeth  are  set  on  edge. 

To  explain  the  conduct  of  the  daughters  is  not, 
however,  to  excuse  it.  It  is  always  the  privilege  of 
human  beings  to*  treat  persons  well  who  have  treated 
them  ill.  Shakespeare  never  makes  any  persons  the 
mere  creatures  of  heredity,  and  even  modern  science  now 
pays  less  deference  to  this  doctrine  than  formerly.  As 
a  dramatist  Shakespeare  probably  had  no  theories 
about  such  matters,  though  in  other  plays  he  shows 
his  belief  that  children  are  not  necessarily  of  the  same 
character  as  their  parents.  With  this  conception,  he 
holds  Goneril  and  Regan  strictly  to  account  for  their 
deeds,  and  before  the  inexorable  law  of  poetic  justice 
does  not  permit  them  to  plead  that  they  are  but  daugh- 
ters of  their  father.  Like  nature  herself,  Shakespeare 


260  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

does  not  inquire  whence  evil  comes,  but  merely  lets  it 
take  its  course  wherever  found.  The  unrelenting  hand 
of  condemnation  rests  upon  the  two  sisters  from  the 
moment  they  despise  their  father's  weakness  and  scorn 
his  senile  infirmities. 

Their  hypocrisy,  unobserved  by  Lear  in  his  vanity, 
is  immediately  noticed  by  Cordelia.  Unlike  her  sisters, 
the  youngest  daughter  is  nothing  if  not  open  and 
frank.  Lear  has  entertained  for  her  a  warmer  regard 
than  for  the  others,  and  quite  naturally  expects  this 
to  be  reciprocated.  Faithlessness  on  the  part  of  her 
sisters  increased  rather  than  lessened  her  obligation  to 
her  father.  Duties  to  others  have  some  sort  of  rela- 
tion to  their  needs,  and  Lear  was  never  so  much  in  need 
of  a  faithful  and  tactful  daughter  as  when  Goneril  and 
Regan  vied  with  each  other  in  flattery,  attempting  to 
wheedle  the  largest  inheritance  from  their  father. 

Cordelia  seems,  however,  to  have  more  scorn  for  her 
sisters  than  love  for  her  father.  Her  chief  quality  was 
haughtiness  or  pride,  and  this  was  allowed  to  crush  out 
the  virtue  of  compassion.  Poor  Lear !  The  only 
daughter  who  did  love  him  was  so  rigid  in  her  adherence 
to  truth  that  she  would  not  unbend  to  save  him.  She 
would  rather  lose  her  father's  "liking"  than  have  the 
"still-soliciting  eye,"  and  the  flattering  tongue  of  her 
sisters.  (I.  i.  230.)  She  utterly  forgot  him  in  her 
silent  contempt  for  the  perfidy  of  her  sisters,  and  was 
more  anxious  to  punish  their  hypocrisy  than  to  reward 
his  love.  It  is  an  admirable  quality  to  hate  wrong- 
doing; but  it  is  more  divine  to  have  compassion  on  the 
foolish  and  unfortunate.  Cordelia  in  her  pride  was  un- 
willing to  speak  her  true  love  for  her  father  lest  she 
should  be  thought  also  to  be  a  flatterer.  So  she  con- 
cluded to  "love  and  be  silent,"  and  leave  her  father  a 


King  Lear  261 

victim  to  the  treachery  of  her  sisters. 

In  taking  this  self-righteous  attitude,  Cordelia  lost 
the  opportunity  to  rescue  her   father  from  the  cruel 
hands   of  her  sisters, — an  opportunity  she  later  paid 
her  life  in  the  attempt  to  regain.     She  knew  the  treach- 
erous characters  of  her  sisters,  if  any  one  did,  and  un- 
doubtedly should  have  exerted  herself  to  the  fullest  to 
save  her   father   from   their   power.      Her    subsequent 
course  shows  a  recognition  of  the  mistake  she  now  made, 
but  not  until  her  obstinacy  had  gone  so  far  that  its") 
effects  could  not  be  stayed.     But  she  was  the  daughtei^ 
of  her  father,  and  at  bottom  thought  chiefly  of  herself..; 
She  had  not  been  taught  to  make  sacrifices  for  othersA 
and  in  the  critical  moment  for  Lear  her  haughtiness  s 
played  her  false.     Her  disposition  proved  to  have   a 
j^tal_weakness,  and  in  its  outcome  both  she  and  her 
father  were  brought  to  destruction.     That  she  later 
endeavors  to  undo  her  error  shows,  as  Snider  says,  "an 
indestructible   element   of   goodness   in   her   nature." 1 
But  she  was  unable  to  evade  the  consequences  of  the 
original  impulse  that  caused  the  trouble. 

Lear  was  quite  unprepared  for  such  a  display  of 
"pride  and  sullenness"  2  from  his  favorite  daughter, 
and  was  forced  at  the  last  moment  to  change  his  plans 
and  give  her  larger  third  to  her  sisters.  It  was  no 
part  of  his  plan  to  live  with  Goneril  and  Regan,  as 
Professor  Bradley  has  pointed  out,  but  the  sudden 
and  unexpected  perverseness  of  Cordelia  compelled 
him,  to  his  very  great  humiliation,  to  arrange  to  live 
with  them  by  turns.  Her  hard  and  uncompromising 
love  of  truth  placed  her  father  in  a  false  position,  and 
threw  him  upon  those  who  had  no  truth  in  them. 

1  Op.  cit.  p.  162. 

2  Coleridge,  op.  cit.  p.  335. 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

It  is  the  fashion  in  certain  quarters  to  laud  Cordelia 
as  the  embodiment  of  all  that  is  excellent.  Mrs.  Jamie- 
son  speaks  of  her  as  "governed  by  the  purest  and  holiest 
of  impulses  and  motives,"  and  as  approaching  "near 
to  perfection."  Others  speak  of  her  as  the  loveliest  of 
all  Shakespeare's  women.  But  care  must  be  taken  not 
to  praise  too  much  those  whom  the  course  of  the  play 
condemns.  Sweet  and  beautiful  she  is,  but  obstinate  and 
well.  If  she  appear  as  a  goddess,  it  is  as 


a  goddess  in  the  pouts,  a  little  less  than  divine,  and  very 
human  after  all.  We  cannot  but  sympathize  with  her 
righteous  indignation  at  the  wickedness  of  her  sisters, 
but  neither  can  we  forget  that  her  neglect  of  her  father 
subjected  him  to  the  slings  and  arrows  of  outrageous 
fortune,  for  as  Lloyd  says,  "her  disinheriting  was  a 
greater  misfortune  to  her  father  than  to  herself." 
A  goddess  should  be  not  less,  but  more  compassionate 
than  mortals,  and  should  be  willing  to  do  a  great  right, 
do  a  little  wrong,  and  curb  the  cruel  devil  of  her  sis- 
ters' will. 

Shakespeare  apparently  had  very  exalted  notions  of 
the  duties  of  children  to  parents,  and  expected  them  to 
accommodate  themselves  to  the  weaknesses  of  their  par- 
ents. We  cannot  rid  ourselves  of  our  filial  relationships, 
and  some  things  that  cannot  be  mended  must  be  en- 
dured. If  Cordelia  had  been  thoroughly  well-disposed 
to  her  father,  had  had  aj^ure  unselfish  affection,  there 
is  no  doubt  she  would  haveTlDeen  ^illing~nr~such  an 
emergency  to  subjugate  at  least  some  of  her  pride  to 
the  necessities  of  the  case.  It  cannot  well  be  claimed 
that  the  display  of  hypocrisy  on  the  part  of  her  sis- 
ters deceived  her  as  it  did  her  father.  Her  plain  duty, 
then,  recognizing  their  deceit,  was  to  state  her  affec- 
1  Furness,  p.  16. 


King  Lear 

tion  for  her  father  in  a  manner  that  would  at  least  save 
him  from  being  completely  their  victim,  even  though 
such  a  declaration  were  distasteful  to  her.  Her  indig- 
nation was  not  against  her  father,  but  against  her  sis- 
ters, and  her  love  for  him,  as  was  true  also  of  Kent, 
was  evidently  not  impaired  by  Lear's  silly  scheme  of  the 
trial.  To  state  her  love  at  this  time  would  have  been 
the  acme  of  tact,  and  would  have  saved  her  from  ^ 
harder  things  in  the  future. 

Cordelia's  stiibbornness  irritated  and  angered  her 
father  who  was  not  accustomed  to  such  rebuffs.  Ex- 
pecting a  hearty  acquiescence  he  could  not  endure  her 
sharp  defiance.  As  he  had  accepted  the  hypocrisy  of 
the  elder  two  for  a  true  love,  so  he  misunderstood  Cor- 
delia's silence  as  a  challenge  to  him  rather  than  a  re- 
buke to  her  sisters,  as  it  was  intended.  Kent  was  willing 
-toJncur  Lear's  wrath  to  try  to  save  him  from  his  folly, 
but  Cordelia  was  unwilling  to  speak  her  love.  Lear  was 
therefore  forced  to  give  her  "more  opulent  third"  to 
her  sisters,  and  his  whole  ungovernable  nature  burst 
into  a  violent  rage.  His  chagrin  at  his  disappointment 
was  unbearable,  and  he  immediately  stripped  Cordelia 
of  the  intended  inheritance  and  repudiated  his  father- 
hood: 

"Here   I   disclaim   all   my   paternal  care, 
Propinquity,  and  property  of  blood, 
And  as  a  stranger  to  my  heart  and  me 
Hold  thee  from  this  forever." 

(I.  i.  112-5.) 

A  hard  curse  that  later  causes  him  a  "sovereign  shame." 
Lear's  motive  is  condemned  as  selfish  by  the  anger  he 
showed  at  Cordelia's  refusal  to  flatter.     To  a  sincere  ^ 
and   truth-loving  mind   Cordelia   would   not  have   ap- 
peared loveless,  but  to  one  who  desired  only  flattery 


264  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

her  answer  was  intolerable.  Lear  could  brook  no  defi- 
ance, and  least  of  all  from  the  daughter  he  deemed  the 
most  obsequious. 

Cordelia,  nevertheless,  is  a  lady  of  very  great  excel- 
lence. No  doubt  France  speaks  with  a  lover's  fondness, 
but  the  play  bears  out  all  the  good  qualities  he  sees 
in  her.  (I.  i.  249,  ff.)  The  very  fact  that  he  as  will- 
ingly takes  her  dowerless,  as  when  he  thought  her  a 
queen,  speaks  as  well  for  his  own  worth  as  for  hers. 
But  Shakespeare  has  made  her  less  excellent  than  in 
the  old  play  of  King  Lear,  where  she  was 

"so  nice  and  so  demure: 
So  sober,  courteous,  modest,  and  precise,"  * 

that  she  is  the  envy  of  her  less  virtuous  sisters.  In 
Shakespeare  she  is  still  the  favorite  of  her  father,  but 
not  quite  the  angel  of  the  old  play.  The  change  in  her 
character  is  no  doubt, made  to  emphasize  the  tragic 
aspects  which  Shakespeare  saw  in  her  from  the  first,  and 
which  he  later  makes  explicit,  though  he  leaves  her  suf- 
ficient virtue  to  win  our  love  and  pity. 

The  disinheritance  and  banishment  of  Cordelia  are 
an  extreme  penalty,  and  unworthy  of  Lear.  Because 
she  could  not  give  him  more  empty  adulation  than  her 
sisters  she  has  to  suffer  the  loss  of  everything.  The 
unworthy  are  rewarded  because  they  are  base  enough 
for  flattery,  and  the  worthy  is  cast  out  because  too 
honest  for  flattery  and  too  noble  for  intrigue.  Goneril 
and  Regan  had  professed  love  in  accordance  with  their 
ambitions  rather  than  their  affections,  and  were  re- 
warded with  all.  But  to  an  understanding  heart  there 
was  more  love  in  Cordelia's  silence  than  in  all  the  fine 
phrases  of  her  designing  sisters.  Lear  was  the  only 
one  who  did  not  know  this,  and  he  did  not  see  it  be- 

1  Furness,  p.  393. 


King  Lear  265 

cause  he   had  become  morally  blind  through  lifelong 
indulgence.     Vanity  had   seized  hold  upon  his   heart, 
and  his  better  nature  had  decayed.     The  sisters  rec~ 
ognized  his  folly,  and  Goneril  afterward  remarked  to 
Regan  that  "He  always  loved  our  sister  most ;  and  with 
what  poor  judgment  he  hath  now  cast  her  off  appears 
too  grossly."     (I.  i.  288-290.)     As  the  late  Professor N 
Caird  says :    "It  is  wilfulness,  exaggerated  to  the  point  / 
of  putting  evil  for  good,  and  good  for  evil,  that  makes  \^ 
Lear  banish  his  one  dutiful  daughter,  and  raise  up  the    / 
cold-blooded  Goneril  and  the  bitter  selfishness  of  Regan 
to  be  his  tormentors."  1 

None  know  better  than  the  sisters  that  Lear  has 
committed  an  act  of  grievous  folly.  To  each  other 
they  speak  of  it,  Regan  attributing  it  to  "the  infirmity 
of  his  age,"  and  Goneril  saying  that  "The  best  and 
soundest  of  his  time  hath  been  but  rash,"  and  blaming 
his  act  on  "the  unruly  waywardness  that  infirm  and 
choleric  years  bring  with  them."  (I.  i.  291-297.)  This 
recognition  of  the  imbecility  of  his  old  age  instead  of 
making  them  more  indulgent  toward  him  but  leads  them 
doubly  to  despise  his  weakness.  The  further  banish- 
ment of  Kent  is  but  additional  evidence  to  them  that 
their  father  is  now  subject  to  "unconstant  starts,"  and 
puts  them  in  fear  that  such  outbreaks  may  occur  at 
any  time.  With  no  feeling  of  tenderness  toward  him, 
they  are  only  apprehensive  that  they  will  have  trouble 
with  him  in  the  future. 

The  underplot  differs  from  the  Lear  story  in  that 
the  faithless  son,  Edmund,  is  first  humiliated  by  his 
father's  brazen  acknowledgment  of  his  illegitimacy  be- 
fore he  began  to  conspire  against  the  faithful  son,  Ed- 
gar. In  the  plot  the  primary  conflict  is  between  the 
1  Contemporary  Review,  Vol.  LXX.  p.  825. 


266  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

father  and  the  faithful  daughter,  until  it  is  transferred 
to  the  faithless.  In  the  underplot  it  is  between  the 
faithless  and  the  faithful  son,  until  the  father  is  de- 
:d  into  joining  the  faithless  son.  Both  stories,  as 
has  been  said,  present  the  father's  tragedy,  and  the 
that  in  one  case  the  conflict  is  with  daughters  and 
in  the  other  with  sons  precludes  the  view  that  the 
dramatist  lays  the  blame  for  such  conflicts  on  either  sex. 
The  desire  to  prevent  such  an  interpretation  may  be 
one  reason  for  Shakespeare's  combination  of  the 
Gloucester  story  with  the  tragedy  of  Lear. 

J 

IV 

As  was  to  be  expected,  Lear's  retention  of  "The 
name  and  all  th'  addition  to  a  King"  (I.  i.  135)  im- 
mediately made  trouble  in  the  household  of  Goneril. 
The  course  of  education  he  had  given  his  daughters, 
and  the  example  he  had  set  them,  were  not  conducive  to 
soft  compliance  when  once  the  power  and  authority 
were  in  their  hands.  "Till  now,"  says  Gervinus,  "they 
had  flattered  him  like  dogs,  they  had  said  ay  and  no  to 
everything  he  said."  1  They  had  obeyed  complacently 
as  long  as  they  must.  But  when  obedience  was  no 
longer  compulsory,  they  at  once  assumed  to  command, 
and  after  the  manner  of  their  father.  They  had  obeyed 
so  long  as  he  was  in  command,  but  now  that  they  are 
in  control  they  expect  obedience  from  him.  The  law 
of  service  he  had  inaugurated  was  still  kept  in  force 
after  he  retired,  but  was  less  acceptable  to  him  when 
their  relations  to  it  were  reversed.  Lear  soon  found 
himself  unable  to  tolerate  the  treatment  he  received, 
and  rebelled  against  the  domination  of  his  daughters, 
1  Shakespeare  Commentaries,  Eng.  trans,  by  Bunnett,  p.  624. 


King  Lear  267 

thus  bringing  the  conflict  to  an  acute  stage.    He  could 
not  see  the  defects  in  his  own  law  of  life  until  he  and     *s 
his   daughters   had   exchanged   places.      He   could  not 
tolerate  in  them  the  same  kind  of  sovereignty  that  he 
had  himself  exercised  in  the  day  of  his  power. 

Lear  and  Goneril  were  incompatible  from  the  outset. 
Trouble  began  about  Lear's  censorious  manner  and  the 
disorderly  conduct  of  his  hundred  retainers.  Goneril's 
statement  of  the  conduct  of  Lear's  knights  must  be 
taken  as  true,  as  it  is  not  the  manner  of  Shakespeare  to 
build  dramatic  actions  on  falsehoods.  All  such  state- 
ments by  persons  of  the  drama  must  be  taken  as  cor- 
rect when  there  is  nothing  in  the  play  to  the  contrary. 
There  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  Lear's  attend- 
ants feeling  their  importance  did  conduct  themselves 
more  like  rowdies  than  gentlemen.  Not  one  of  the 
charges  Goneril  makes  against  them  is  refuted  by  Lear  S 
or  by  any  one  else.  Lear  furthermore  makes  himself 
objectionable  by  his  fault-finding  and  complaining,  un- 
til Goneril  exclaims  he  "upbraids  us  On  every  trifle." 
(I.  iii.  6-7.)  The  trouble  is  that  Lear  cannot  under- 
stand he  has  given  away  his  authority  with  his  king- 
dom; and  even  the  retention  of  the  title  of  king  does 
not  secure  him  the  subservience  of  his  daughters  and 
their  households.  He  really  intended  to  give  nothing 
away,  and  is  discomfited  when  he  finds  his  authority 
gone: 

"Idle  old  man, 

That  still  would  manage  those  authorities 
That  he  hath  given  away!" 

(I.  iii.  17-19.) 

Kent's  devotion  to  Lear  under  all  conditions  seems 

/  to  brighten  up  the  general  darkness,  and  to  show  that 

Lear  was  not  altogether  unlovable.    Kent's  recollection 


268  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  "Prince 

of  Lear  before  the  evil  days  had  come  keeps  him  faith- 
ful in  the  folly  of  the  king's  old  age.  The  Fool's  un- 
shaken allegiance  when  he  knows  full  well  that  Lear 
has  made  an  uncommon  fool  of  himself  points  back  to 
the  days  when  Lear  was  wise.  Lear's  folly  is  not  a 
lifelong  failing,  for  men  of  the  age  of  Kent 1  and 
Gloucester  remember  better  days,  though  Goneril 
thinks  that  "The  best  and  soundest  of  his  time  hath  been 
but  rash."  (I.  i.  293-4.)  Old  age  has  brought  fool- 
ishness, and  despotism  has  bred  imbecility.  Lear  is 
not  the  man  he  was.  Absolute  power  for  so  many  years 
has  debased  his  moral  and  spiritual  nature.  The  price 
of  tyranny,  of  despotic  power  over  others,  is  to  lose 
control  of  one's  self.  Lear  still  wishes  to  manage  oth- 
ers when  he  has  no  power  left  to  manage  himself.  He 
has  so  long  been  absolute  that  he  cannot  endure  re- 
straint, and  cannot  restrain  himself.  To  be  under 
the  sway  of  Goneril  is  more  than  he  can  bear.  Lear 
therefore  gets  into  a  bitter  conflict  with  Goneril  that 
leads  from  bad  to  worse  until  both  are  undone. 

Lear's  residence  with  Goneril  is  in  every  way  disas- 
trous. As  Goneril  says,  he  sets  them  all  to  odds  (I.  iii. 
6).  The  dependents  at  once  realize  the  change  in  au- 
thority, and  before  he  has  completed  the  arrangements 
connected  with  the  division  of  the  kingdom  their  obe- 
dience is  less  instant  ("Who  stirs?"  I.  i.  125).  There 
is  an  immediate  abatement  of  kindness  and  deference 
from  all  alike,  the  dependants  as  well  as  the  daughters. 
Confusion  reigns  in  the  royal  household,  and  Goneril 
informs  her  servants  that  they  need  pay  little  attention 
to  Lear,  and  that  "what  grows  of  it,  no  matter."  (I. 
iii.  24.)  When  Lear  first  notices  the  neglect,  he  hopes 
it  is  not  meant  for  unkindness  (I.  iv.  66-7).  But  his 

1  Kent  was  48  years  old.    Cf.  I.  iv.  38,  and  II.  ii.  58. 


King  Lear  269 

worst  fears  are  realized  when  Goneril  herself  breaks  out 
at  him  and  complains  of  his  "insolent  retinue,"  and  re- 
quests him  "A  little  to  disquantity  your  train"  (I.  iv. 
242),  and  to  see  that  the  remainder  conduct  themselves 
more  orderly. 

The  effect  of  this  upon  Lear  reveals  his  character 
better  than  almost  any  other  incident  of  the  play.  For 
the  first  time  he  recognizes  the  wrong  done  Cordelia:  4E 

"O  most  small  fault, 

How  ugly  didst  thou  in  Cordelia  show!" 
(I.  iv.  260-1.) 

Intolerance  and  tyranny  had  become  a  habit  with  Lear, 
but  when  he  could  be  made  to  see  his  wrong,  he  gladly 
acknowledged  it.  This  characteristic  will  in  the  end 
prove  a  saving  grace.  But  his  moral  vision  has  been 
dimmed,  and  he  cannot  think  for  a  moment  that  he  is 
in  the  wrong  in  his  difficulty  with  Goneril.  He  roundly 
curses  Goneril,  disavowing  his  fatherhood,  and  begging  ^ 
heaven  that  her  children  may  also  be  thankless.  Not 
for  a  moment  does  he  see  that  his  own  conduct  has  been  x 
at  fault,  but  with  burning  fury  and  fiery  indignation 
he  refuses  to  stay  longer  with  her,  not  dreaming  he  will 
be  equally  unwelcome  with  Regan.  The  arbitrary  fea- 
tures that  marked  his  rule  when  he  was  in  authority 
are  intolerable  to  Lear  now  they  are  exercised  by  his 
daughters.  It  is  such  reversed  relationships  as  this 
that  reveal  to  men  the  character  of  their  own  acts. 

Lear's  mind  had  undoubtedly  become  weakened  by  y 
the  long  course  of  his  arbitrary  and  uncharitable  use 
of  power.  In  the  bitter  despair  of  his  disappointment 
at  Goneril  he  fears  his  mind  may  give  way.  He  has 
not  been  accustomed  to  the  necessity  of  self-control, 
and  he  now  finds  it  quite  impossible.  He  long  ago  lost 
his  moral  balance  and  now  is  in  danger  of  losing  his 


270  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

mental  balance.  His  prayer  to  heaven  to  keep  him 
from  madness  is  very  pathetic,  but  could  come  only 
from  one  who  had  long  indulged  a  wild-horse  temper, 
and  who  was  beginning  to  be  conscious  of  his  weakness. 
In  no  way  blaming  himself,  but  charging  all  his 
troubles  against  Goneril's  hatefulness,  Lear  sweeps  out 
of  her  house  in  a  perfect  storm  of  rage,  and  betakes 
himself  to  Regan,  saying: 

"I  have  another  daughter, 
Who,  I  am  sure,  is  kind  and  comfortable." 
(I.  iv.  299-300.) 

Regan's  absence  from  home  at  the  Duke  of  Gloucester's 
causes  him  little  discomfiture.  But  when  she  and  her 
husband  refuse  to  respond  to  his  call  to  come  out  to 
him  his  rage  bursts  into  a  perfect  fury.  His  pride  and 

/  haughtiness  are  wounded,  and  the  later  interview  con- 
firms the  belief  that  Regan  is  as  ungrateful  as  her  sis- 
ter. 

Now,  at  last,  the  old  king  has  estranged  all  his 
daughters,  and  begins  to  see  the  real  situation.  He  is 
soon  entirely  disillusioned  when  both  join  in  the  attempt 
to  curtail  his  dignity,  and  to  deprive  him  of  his  royal 
state,  and  show  that  they  would  even  gladly  be  rid  of 
him  altogether.  With  awful  suddenness  he  is  brought 
to  realize  he  is  houseless  and  homeless,  and,  but  for  the 
faithful  Kent  and  the  Fool,  entirely  friendless.  Having 
cursed  and  banished  the  one  daughter  that  truly  loved 
him,  what  inducement  can  he  offer  for  the  unloving  to 
be  faithful?  They  have  now  the  authority,  and  they 

*  exercise  it  in  the  same  arbitrary  and  heartless  manner 
that  he  had  done.  They  have  but  bettered  the  instruc- 
tion he  gave  them,  and  what  more  can  he  expect  ? 

Cursing  his  daughters,  and  calling  them  "unnatural 
hags,"  Lear  bursts  out  into  the  night,  which  the  drama- 


King  Lear  271 

tist  to  mark  the  sympathy  of  nature  and  man  makes  ^ 
wild  and  tempestuous.  But  the  storm  in  nature  is 
nothing  compared  with  the  tempest  in  Lear's  breast. 
The  worst  storms  are  caused  by  spiritual  upheavals, 
not  by  natural  disturbances.  With  a  desperate  effort 
at  self-control  Lear  says,  "No,  I'll  not  weep.  I  have 
full  cause  of  weeping."  (II.  iv.  280-281.)  His  re- 
straint of  tears,  however,  is  at  the  expense  of  an  over- 
thrown mind,  which  Lear  himself  foresees,  "O  fool,  I 
shall  go  mad."  Now  is  seen  the  spectacle  so  well  de- 
scribed by  Schlegel:  "The  threefold  dignity  of  a  king, 
an  old  man,  and  a  father,  is  dishonored  by  the  cruel 
ingratitude  of  his  unnatural  daughters :  the  old  Lear, 
who  out  of  a  foolish  tenderness  has  given  away  every- 
thing, is  driven  out  to  the  world  a  wandering  beggar."1 
Lear  is  now  in  a  condition  the  very  opposite  of  what 
he  expected  from  the  division  of  his  kingdom.  Instead 
of  added  power,  he  is  stripped  of  all  power ;  instead  of  / 
increased  reverence  and  devotion,  he  has  only  scorn 
and  contempt ;  instead  of  the  enlarged  love  and  attach- 
ment of  all  three  daughters,  he  has  the  hatred  of  two, 
and  separation  from  the  third ;  in  place  of  a  more  com- 
fortable home  for  his  old  age,  and  the  devoted  attend- 
ance of  his  favorite,  Cordelia,  he  has  no  home  at  all, 
and  is  forced  out  into  the  storm  and  tempest  of  the 
night,  and  glad  to  take  refuge  in  the  hovel  of  a  bed- 
lamite, and  rest  on  his  pallet  of  straw. 

The  bitter  disappointment  of  Lear  confirms  the  belief 
that  the  division  of  the  kingdom  was  not  meant  to  be  a 
sacrifice,  but  a  purchase  of  the  complete  devotion  of  v 
his  daughters  at  the  expense  of  a  partial  relinquish- 
ment  of  his  kingdom.  While  seeming  to  give  every- 
thing to  his  daughters,  and  to  leave  himself  dependent 
1  Op.  tit.  p.  411. 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

on  their  bounty,  he  really  intended  to  give  them  noth- 
ing substantial,  but  to  collect  from  them  a  devotion 
that  would  be  the  best  assurance  of  a  dignified  and  royal 
old  age.  He  was  acting,  indeed,  more  from  selfishness 
and  vanity  than  from  generosity  and  kindness. 


The  first  glimpse  of  Lear  in  the  storm  and  tempest 
of  the  night  reveals  the  fact  that  his  mind  has  turned. 
Some  have  regarded  him  as  insane  from  the  start, 
among  whom  are  many  of  the  medical  writers.1  Others, 
with  much  better  reason  say  he  became  insane  early  in 
the  play.2  These  differ  about  the  exact  point  at  which 
Lear's  mind  gives  way,  varying  between  his  abdication, 
the  cursing  of  Cordelia,  the  mock-trial  of  his  daugh- 
ters, and  certain  other  scenes.  There  is  about  as  much 
difference  of  opinion  among  experts  as  in  a  modern 
crime  of  a  wealthy  young  fool.  In  both  cases  alike 
an  impartial  jury  finds  it  necessary  to  dismiss  all  spe- 
cialists, and  to  fall  back  upon  common  sense.  In  or- 
der, then,  to  reach  a  proper  conclusion,  we  must  con- 
sider not  only  the  evidence  of  the  text  of  the  play, 
but  its  relation  to  the  larger  theme  of  the  play,  and  to 
the  Shakespearean  drama  in  general. 

With  the  theme  of  the  play  in  mind,  it  cannot  well  be 
maintained  that  Lear  was  insane  from  the  first.  If  he 
were,  the  play  would  be  but  a  mad-house  tragedy,  and 
of  no  value  to  supposedly  sane  persons.  Shakespeare's 
tragedies  all  turn  on  moral  not  mental  maladies,  and 

1  Furness  says  that  Mrs.  Lennox  was  the  earliest  to  say  Lear 
was  mad^  from  the  outset,  in  her  Shakespeare  Illustrated,  1753-4. 
(Furness,  412.)  Of  the  same  opinion  are  Brigham  (Furness, 
412-3)  and  Bucknill  (Furness,  415-6). 

a  E.  g.,  Ray,  cf.  Furness,  413-14. 


King  Lear  273 

are  tragedies  of  the  moral  life.  The  so-called  early 
marks  of  madness  are  evidences  of  perverseness  and 
folly  rather  than  of  insanity,  unless  this  term  is  to  be 
made  wide  enough  to  cover  all  foolish  and  criminal 
aberrations.  The  dramatist  who  would  consider  Lear 
mad  from  the  start,  and  yet  make  a  tragedy  out  of  his 
career  would  himself  be  the  really  mad  person.  Lear's 
early  conduct  is  certainly  very  erratic,  but  it  is  folly 
not  madness,  though  that  kind  of  criminal  folly  which 
leads  to  madness.  It  is  this  that  is  the  theme  of  the 
drama — how  a  man  because  of  indulging  his  vanity 
and  selfishness  lands  at  last  in  madness. 

Any  other  interpretation  would  tear  the  heart  out 
of  the  drama.  The  play  depicts  the  growth,  fulness, 
and  relief  of  Lear's  madness,  with  the  various  influences 
affecting  these.  Lear  goes  mad  only  because  he  first 
goes  wrong;  and  loses  control  of  himself  because  he 
was  too  busy  trying  to  manage  others,  and  to  subject 
them  to  the  arbitrariness  of  his  own  perverse  will. 
Shakespeare  may  or  may  not  have  known  accurately 
all  the  marks  of  insanity,  but  he  did  know  that  a  pam- 
pered and  perverse  egoism  is  one  of  the  most  prolific 
causes  of  madness.  Absolutism  always  induces  a  kind 
of  insanity,  in  monarchs  as  well  as  in  men.  Nobody 
knew  better  than  Shakespeare  the  thinness  of  the  veil 
that  separates  a  deranged  will  and  an  unbalanced  mind. 
Shakespeare  would  say  to  us  that  it  is  Lear's  moral 
shortcomings  that  are  responsible  for  his  mental  wan- 
derings. There  may  be  plenty  of  cases  where  the  mind 
is  overthrown  by  physical  conditions,  but  Lear's  was 
unbalanced  by  a  long  course  of  moral  perversity  and  v 
egoism.  His  disease  is  spiritual  rather  than  physical. 
Shakespeare  at  any  rate  treats  it  as  such,  and  this 
must  be  his  justification  for  holding  Lear  strictly  to 


274  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

account. 

No  doubt  the  ingratitude  of  the  two  faithless  daugh- 
ters was  the  last  straw  to  break  the  already  over- 
strained mind  of  Lear.  Somewhere,  then,  between 
Lear's  departure  from  Gloucester's  castle  and  his  ap- 
pearance in  the  storm,  the  old  king's  wits  actually  fail 
altogether.  Shakespeare's  practice  of  reflecting  the 
disturbed  condition  of  the  moral  world  in  the  storm  and 
tempest  of  nature  will  help  us  to  see  that  the  breaking 
of  the  storm  as  he  leaves  Gloucester's  castle  marks  the 
dramatic  collapse  of  Lear's  mind.  Lear  takes  the  rag- 
ing of  the  elements  as  a  mark  of  nature's  hostility,  and 
tries  to  excite  their  pity  by  -calling  himself  "a  poor, 
infirm,  weak,  and  despised  old  man."  Then  he  re- 
proaches the  elements  for  joining  with  his  "two  perni- 
cious daughters"  and  engaging  in 

"Your  high  engender'd  battles  'gainst  a  head 
So  old  and  white  as  this.    Oh!    Oh! 'tis  foul!" 

(III.  ii.  23-4.) 

When  Gloucester  next  sees  him  he  pities  Lear's  dire  dis- 
tress, not  knowing  he  will  soon  lose  his  own  eyes  as  Lear 
his  wits.  It  was  Lear's  mind  and  Gloucester's  eyes  thai 
led  them  astray,  and  in  losing  wits  and  eyes  "the  whee 
is  come  full  circle." 

Lear's  mind  is  quite  distracted  by  the  time  he  meets 
*  Edgar  as  "Poor  Torn,"  but  with  the  culmination  there 
are  also  signs  of  a  spiritual  purging  that  is  to  bring 
his  restoration.  The  turning-point"  is  reached  in  the 
arraignment  and  trial  of  his  daughters,  in  which  he 
demands  justice  upon  them,  not  knowing  that  in  the 
course  of  justice  neither  he  nor  they  should  see  salva- 
tion. In  the  uncontrolled  fury  of  his  passion  he  soon 
completely  exhausts  himself,  and  collapses  into  a  sooth- 
ing and  healing  sleep  from  which  he  wakes  to  a  re- 


King  Lear  275 

newed  life.  His  passion  has  run  its  course,  and  has 
worn  itself  out.  With  his  sleep  the  tide  of  passion  has 
turned,  and  events  have  happened  that  open  the  way 
for  his  restoration. 

In  the  great  tragedies  of  Shakespeare  wrong-doing 
reacts  upon  the  social  order  as  well  .as  upon  the  indi- 
vidual, and  creates  widespread  confusion  and  disaster. 
The  crime  of  Claudius  puts  all  Denmark  In  trouble,  and 
even  endangers  its  peace  with  Norway.  The  crime  of 
Macbeth  makes  civil  war  in  Scotland  and  invites  inva-.  t 
sion  from  England.  The  wrong  of  Lear  creates  trouble 
in  his  family,  and  disorder  in  the  kingdom,  and  even 
brings  about  an  attack  from  France.  Shakespeare 
saw  clearly  the  social  disintegration  of  evil,  and  he  pic- 
tured it  so  that  he  who  runs  may  read. 


VI 


I 
J 


Cordelia  at  no  time  drops  out  of  the  play  entirely. 
Her  letter  to  Kent  (II.  ii.  161-2)  shows  that  she  has 
not  lost  interest  in  her  father,  and  in  Kent's  "ob- 
scured course."  Being  cut  off  from  Lear  by  her  ban- 
ishment, she  keeps  in  touch  with  him  by  a  correspond- 
ence with  Kent,  and  maintains  spies  in  the  country  to 
inform  her  of  the  affairs  of  state.  She  had  evidently, 
too,  thought  better  of  her  haughtiness,  and  is  now 
willing  to  accommodate  herself  to  the  conditions  she 
cannot  mend.  Her  life  in  France,  in  happy  marriage 
with  the  King,  has  given  her  time  for  reflection,  and  she 
now  seems  to  be  awaiting  an  opportunity  to  undo  the 
harm  caused  by  her  pride.  The  occasion  comes  with 
the  division  "  'twixt  Albany  and  Cornwall,"  and  now 
she  is  ready  to  send  a  French  force  to  succor  the  old 
king. 


276  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

Cordelia's  difference  with  her  father  had  quickly 
given  way  to  her  love,  and  she  began  cautiously  and 
slowly  to  try  to  ingratiate  herself  once  more  into  his 
favor.  When  she  found  the  occasion  for  intervention 
she  quickly  dispatched  a  force  to  his  aid.  At  the  same 
V  time  Lear  is  going  through  a  process  of  moral  purging, 
and  his  mind  and  heart  are  getting  ready  for  the  recon- 
ciliation. Kent  understands  the  moral  process  going 
on  in  Lear's  soul,  and  discerns  a  consciousness  of  the 
wrong  done  to  Cordelia  that  makes  Lear  ashamed  to 
see  her : 

"A  sovereign  shame   so  elbows  him;  his  own  unkindness 
That  stripp'd  her  from  his  benediction,  turn'd  her 
To  foreign  casualties,  gave  her  dear  rights 
To  his  dog-hearted  daughters;  these  things  sting 
His  mind  so  venomously  that  burning  shame 
Detains  him  from  Cordelia." 

(IV.  iii.  42-7.) 

But  Cordelia,  too,  has  now  a  different  and  a  humbler 
spirit,  and  is  willing  even  to  give  all  her  "outward 
worth"  to  him  that  will  help  restore  her  father's  "be- 
reaved sense."  It  has  been  a  fearful  trial,  but  the  fires 
have  subdued  and  refined  the  spirits  of  both  father  and 
daughter. 

The  tenderness  with  which  Cordelia  nurses  her  father 
back  to  sanity  almost  obliterates  our  memory  of  her 
'  first  intolerance.  The  spirits  of  both  have  undergone 
a  great  transformation.  Both  have  experienced  a  spir- 
itual earthquake  that  has  shaken  their  being  to  the 
very  foundations.  Perhaps  nowhere  else  has  the 
dramatist  penetrated  so  deeply  into  the  very  springs  of 
life,  and  nowhere  else  has  he  better  depicted  two  souls 
in  the  remaking.  Their  attitudes  to  each  other  have 
entirely  changed.  Lear  now  humbles  himself  before 
Cordelia,  thinking  her  still  hostile,  and  is  willing  to  sub- 


King  Lear  277 

mit  to  taking  poison  from  her.  Cordelia  on  her  part  begs 
h;s  fatherly  blessing,  assuring  him  of  her  goodwill,  and 
pressing  upon  him  her  kind  offices.  These  he  accepts 
when  convinced  of  her  kindness  and  requests  her  to  , 
"forget  and  forgive;  I  am  old  and  foolish."  (IV.  vii. 
84-85.)  But  it  is  the  dramatist's  opinion  that  such 
wrongs  cannot  be  settled  merely  by  the  reconciliation 
of  the  parties.  The  social  order  must  be  propitiated, 
and  that  is  inexorable  in  its  claims.  The  wrong  must 
be  adjusted,  and  if  need  be  the  parties  must  sacrifice 
themselves  to  this  end. 

Most  of  the  earlier  forms  of  the  Lear  story  present 
the  old  king  as  going  over  to  Cordelia  in  France  when 
turned  out  by  his  elder  daughters.  This  is  the  case 
in  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  Holinshed,  The  Mirror  for 
Magistrates,  in  the  old  play,  in  Spenser,  and  in  the 
ballad,  which  may,  however,  be  later  than  Shakespeare. 
The  King  Lear  of  Shakespeare  is  the  only  version  of 
any  importance  in  which  Lear  does  not  go  over  to 
France.  Shakespeare  must  have  had  some  good  reason 
for  so  noticeable  a  departure  from  the  earlier  forms  of 
the  story.  The  change  could  not  have  been  in  the  in- 
terest of  unity  of  place,  as  this  was  a  dramatic  prin- 
ciple he  frequently  ignored.  The  more  probable  ex- 
planation is  that  he  considered  that  for  Lear  to  go  to 
France  would  be  a  temporary  escape  from  the  conse- 
quences of  his  act,  and  this  he  could  not  allow.  Shake- 
speare is  as  inexorable  as  nature  in  making  a  man  stay 
by  his  act,  and  see  it  through  to  its  bitterest  extreme. 
Only  in  this  way  does  its  working  effect  that  purging 
of  the  soul  in  which  the  dramatist  showed  so  great  an 
interest. 

The  favorite  explanation  of  Shakespeare's  refusal 
to  allow  Cordelia's  French  forces  to  be  successful 


278  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

against  England  is  that  his  patriotism  would  not  per- 
mit otherwise,  and  neither  would  that  of  the  patrons  of 
the  theatre.  No  doubt  this  is  true,  but  it  is  only  a 
small  part  of  the  truth.  While  not  indifferent  to  popu- 
lar and  patriotic  feeling,  Shakespeare  was  generally 
governed  by  larger  conceptions.  The  true  explanation 
is  probably  to  be  found  in  the  moral  nature  of  the  con- 
flict in  which  from  the  start  Cordelia  had  forfeited  any 
right  to  outward  success.  It  was  still  possible  for  her, 
however,  to  wrest  from  the  defeat  a  moral  victory,  and 
this  the  dramatist  depicts  her  as  winning. 

Nothing  is  more  indicative  of  the  change  in  father 
and  daughter  than  the  resignation  with  which  they  ac- 
cept defeat,  and  their  composure  when  they  find  them- 

V  selves  captives.  They  both  have  now  mastered  them- 
selves, and  prison  bars  cannot  make  them  slaves.  The 
once  haughty  monarch  readily  accepts  imprisonment 
so  long  as  he  has  his  beloved  Cordelia  with  him.  The 

v  absolute  king  assumes  bondage  with  an  equanimity  that 
is  the  very  antithesis  of  his  original  frame  of  mind. 

"""The  man  of  authority  is  now  deprived  of  all  power, 
and  under  the  surveillance  of  a  petty  official.  The  un- 
limited king  submits  to  be  deprived  of  all  liberty,  and 
confined  within  the  walls  of  a  prison  cell,  with  a  com- 
posure as  unlike  as  possible  the  arrogance  and  egoism 
of  his  kingly  mind.  All  he  now  wants  is  that  Cordelia, 
whose  mind  is  now  as  humble  as  his  own,  shall  be  his 
prison-mate  and  attendant: 

"Come,  let's  away  to  prison; 
We  two  alone  will  sing  like  birds  i'  the  cage. 

So  we'll  live, 

And  pray,  and  sing,  and  tell  old  tales  and  laugh 
At  gilded  butterflies,  and  hear  poor  rogues 
Talk  of  court  news." 

(V.  iii.  8-14.) 


King  Lear  279 

Lear  has  learned  his  lesson,  and  Cordelia  has  learned 
hers.  He  has  found  out  that  love  is  the  greatest  thing 
in  the  world,  and  he  now  cares  not  how  little  else  he 
has,  provided  he  has  love.  All  his  assumed  absolutism 
and  ajitpcjjicy  have  given  place  to  ,m£ejiii£ss  and  docil- 
ity He  is  willing  now  to  exchange  love  (equality) 
with  Cordelia,  recognizing  it  as  better  than  power  (su- 
periority). Probably  no  character  in  Shakespeare  ex- 
hibits such  a  "process  of  purification"  before  he  learns 
the  lesson  of  life  that  love  is  best.  Professor  Bradley 
very  appropriately  suggests  that  the  play  might  well 
be  called  "The  Redemption  of  King  Lear."  x  But 
Lear's  recovery  is  not  to  his  former  self,  for  his 
body  and  mind  are  greatly  enfeebled.  The  process  of 
his  sorrow  and  its  purging  has  brought  a  moral  and  , 
spiritual  recovery,  but  it  has  worn  out  his  body  and 
his  mind.  Lear  is  a  new  man  spiritually,  but  physically 
he  is  now  an  old  man  and  ready  for  the  grave. 

Though  acknowledging  his  wrong  to  Cordelia,  Lear 
at  no  time  came  to  admit  any  responsibility  for  the  con- 
flict with  Goneril  and  Regan,  and  did  not  see  the  wrong 
of  his  original  scheme  of  division.  It  is  very  true  that 
it  was  Cordelia  rather  than  her  sisters  whose  conduct 
brought  into  operation  the  hidden  forces  of  evil  that 
lay  in  the  scheme.  No  responsibility  placed  on  Cor- 
delia, however,  can  excuse  the  ungrateful  behavior  of 
the  other  two.  Their  schemes  and  counter-schemes,  and 
the  illicit  love  of  both  for  Edmund,  are  but  develop- 
ments of  the  same  character  that  did  violence  to  Lear. 
Shakespeare  was  of  course  unfamiliar  with  the  many 
modern  devices  for  shifting  moral  responsibility  to  the 
broad  shoulders  of  heredity  and  environment,  but  he 
was  intimately  acquainted  with  similar  attempted  eva- 
1  Shakespearean  Tragedy,  p.  285. 


280  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

sions  under  other  names.  To  all  of  these  he  gives  the 
answer  of  the  universal  moral  sense  that  no  such  vicari- 
ous responsibility  is  possible.  Though  he  traces  care- 
fully the  moral  descent  of  Goneril  and  Regan  and  of 
Edmund,  joined  as  they  are  in  vice,  he  brings  them  all 
strictly  to  account,  though  he  makes  the  two  sisters 
suffer  at  their  own  hands.  He  does  not  let  them  fall 
into  the  hands  of  Cordelia,  apparently  thinking  she  had 
forfeited  any  right  to  be  the  nemesis  of  the  play.  Ed- 
gar, however,  plays  this  part  to  Edmund. 

vn 

Shakespeare  has  been  censured  for  changing  the 
original  story,  and  letting  Lear  and  Cordelia  be  brought 
to  death.  Dr.  Johnson  long  ago  gave  voice  to  the  pro- 
test, and  little  in  addition  has  been  said.  "Shake- 
speare," he  says,  "has  suffered  the  virtue  of  Cordelia 
to  perish  in  a  just  cause,  contrary  to  the  natural  ideas 
of  justice,  to  the  hope  of  the  reader,  and,  what  is  yet 
more  strange,  to  the  faith  of  the  chronicles.  A  play 
in  which  the  wicked  prosper,  and  the  virtuous  mis- 
carry, may  doubtless  be  good,  because  it  is  a  just  rep- 
resentation of  the  common  events  of  human  life ;  but, 
since  all  reasonable  beings  naturally  love  justice,  I 
cannot  easily  be  persuaded  that  the  observation  of  jus- 
tice makes  a  play  worse;  or  that,  if  other  excellences 
are  equal,  the  audience  will  not  always  rise  better 
pleased  from  the  final  triumph  of  persecuted  virtue." 
That  is,  Dr.  Johnson  excuses  what  he  considers  the 
lack  of  idealism  only  on  the  plea  of  realism.  It  is  al- 
lowable, he  says,  for  a  dramatist  to  violate  justice  be- 
cause in  actual  life  such  violation  often  takes  place; 

1  "Introduction  to  Shakespeare," 


King  Lear  281 

but  even  then  he  thinks  it  would  be  better  for  the 
dramatist  to  adhere  strictly  to  justice. 

When  Shakespeare  took  up  the  old  story  of  King 
Lear  he  saw  the  characters  of  Lear  and  Cordelia  in  a 
very  different  light  from  all  previous  writers.  The 
older  writers  make  the  issue  of  the  conflict  with  the  sis- 
ters a  complete  triumph  for  Lear  and  Cordelia.  The 
old  ballad  alone  makes  the  story  tragic,  Cordelia  being 
slain  in  the  battle  and  Lear  dying  upon  her  breast. 
It  is  thought,  however,  that  the  ballad  is  later,  not 
earlier,  than  Shakespeare,  leaving  the  dramatist  as  the 
first  to  turn  the  old  comedy  into  tragedy.  As  he  later 
did  the  reverse  of  this  in  The  Winter's  Tale,  it  must 
be  conceded  that  he  had  some  deliberate  intention  in 
such  matters.  The  opinion  is  growing  among  stu- 
dents that  Shakespeare  showed  a  deeper  insight  into 
conduct  and  character  than  the  old  chroniclers  and 
dramatists,  and  that  whatever  changes  he  made  were 
in  the  interests  of  a  higher  justice.  But  Shakespeare's 
conception  of  poetic  justice  differed  very  greatly  from 
that  of  lesser  dramatists  of  his  own  and  especially  of 
succeeding  periods. 

Criticism,  however,  is  learning  very  slowly  to  have 
confidence  in  Shakespeare's  moral  judgment.  With  a 
few  notable  and  eminent  exceptions  like  Lamb,  the 
dramatist's  fellow  countrymen  have  not  endorsed  his 
version  of  the  story.  Among  recent  critics  Professor 
Herford  is  the  most  pronounced  in  saying  that  "  'Poetic 
justice'  is  sublimely  defied  in  the  doom  of  Lear  and  Cor- 
delia." l  It  remains  for  Professor  Raleigh,  however, 
to  suggest  that  Shakespeare's  imagination  ran  away 
with  him.  He  says  Shakespeare  "had  wound  the 
tragedy  up  to  such  a  pitch  that  a  happy  ending,  as 
1  Eversley  Shakespeare,  Vol.  IX.  p.  14. 


282  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

it  is  called,  was  unthinkable."  *  Many  of  the  older 
English  and  German  critics,  however,  have  defended 
the  dramatist.  They  have  recognized  in  Shakespeare 
a  great  constructive  thinker,  whose  imagination, 
though  great,  was  never  master  of  his  thought.  They 
have  seen  that  it  is  in  power  of  philosophic  thought 
that  he  excelled,  and  not  in  imagination,  if  the  fact 
that  he  invented  few  stories  can  be  taken  as  of  any 
significance.  His  work  consisted  rather  in  broaden- 
ing and  deepening  popular  stories  and  chronicles,  and 
making  them  the  expression  of  "the  very  life  of 
things."  2 

Shakespeare  was  himself  fully  aware  of  the  signifi- 
cance of  the  change  he  introduced  into  the  story,  and 
has  anticipated  the  criticism  that  has  arisen.  When 
Lear  enters  with  the  dead  Cordelia  in  his  arms,  howl- 
ing in  the  anguish  of  his  grief,  Kent  exclaims,  "Is  this 
the  promised  end?"  (V.  iii.  264.)  But  in  the  course 
of  events  Kent  becomes  reconciled  to  the  death  of  both 
Cordelia  and  Lear.  When  others  would  prolong  the 
life  of  the  suffering  king,  he  says : 

"Vex  not  his  ghost.     Oh,  let  him  pass!  he  hates  him 
That  would  upon  the  rack  of  this  tough  world 
Stretch  him  out  longer." 

(V.  iii.  314-6.) 

1  Shakespeare,  p.  92. 

2  Professor   Bradley   is   quite  hopeless,  however,   and   says   that 
"there  never  was  vainer  labour   than  that  of  critics  who  try  to 
make  out   that  the  persons   in  these   dramas   meet  with   'justice' 
or  their  'deserts'"  (p.  279).     He  thinks  that  the  way  a  play  turns 
out  depends  on  the  period  of  Shakespeare's  life  in  which  it  was 
written.     "I  believe,"  he  says,  "Shakespeare  would  have  ended  his 
play  thus  [letting  Lear  and  Cordelia  live]  had  he  taken  the  sub- 
ject in  hand   a   few  years   later,  in  the  days   of  Cymbeline   and 
The  Winter's  Tale"  (p.  252).     A  deeper  study,  however,  will  re- 
veal great  differences  between  these  plays  and  King  Lear. 


King  Lear 

All  explanations  of  Shakespeare  that  overlook  moral 
considerations  are  utterly  futile.  The  conviction  is 
growing  in  many  quarters  that  Shakespeare's  dealings 
with  the  characters  are  governed  by  the  principles  of 
the  moral  life.  It  is  Shakespeare's  greatness  that  in 
his  drama  as  in  the  world  "Moral  causes  govern  the 
standing  and  the  falling  of  men  and  nations.  They 
save  or  destroy  them  by  a  silent,  inexorable  fatality.",. 

The  death  of  Cordelia  is  not,  however,  a  simple,  but  a 
very  complex,  matter.  She  is  first  manifestly  a  victim 
of  her  own  obstinacy.  She  saw  clearly  that  her  sisters 
were  deceiving  her  father,  and  if  she  knew  nothing 
worse  about  them  than  this,  should  have  taken  steps 
to  save  her  father  from  them.  Lear  was  predisposed 
to  her,  and  nothing  but  her  haughtiness  prevented  him 
from  giving  her  "a  third  more  opulent,"  and  from  find- 
ing the  home  of  his  old  age  with  her.  In  the  end,  when 
she  tried  to  undo  the  wrong  she  had  done,  she  found 
her  sisters  so  fully  in  control  of  affairs  that  she  was 
compelled  to  sacrifice  herself  to  her  father's  cause.  We 
admire  the  whole-hearted  devotion  by  which  she  at- 
tempted to  atone  for  her  fault,  and  almost  forgive  her 
for  her  pride.  But  no  love  however  devoted  can  call 
back  the  stream  of  effects  from  her  original  act,  or 
muzzle  the  tiger  in  her  sisters.  By  her  sacrifice  she 
has  purged  her  fault  and  has  been  purified  in  the  proc- 
ess of  time.  But  it  must  be  said  that  her  death  was  in- 
evitable, though  we  cannot  but  think  that  in  the  end, 
though  in  the  end  only,  she  is  a  saint  and  a  martyr. 
The  development  of  this  character  in  her  is  one  of  the 
main  themes  of  the  play. 

There  is  but  little  trouble  in  accepting  the  drama- 

1  Matthew  Arnold,  quoted  by  Vida  D.  Scudder,  Atlantic  Monthly, 
June,  1910,  p.  838. 


Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

tist's  verdict  on  Lear.  He  had  long  outlived  his  self- 
control,  and  it  was  only  a  matter  of  time  and  occasion 
until  he  should  commit  some  act  of  folly  that  would  be 
his  ruin  and  the  probable  ruin  of  his  kingdom.  That 
the  kingdom  was  not  destroyed  is  due  rather  to  Provi- 
dence than  to  any  saving  grace  in  Lear  or  his  daugh- 
ters. Lear's  vanity  had  in  it  elements  of  tragedy.  Yet, 
though  Shakespeare  could  not  save  Lear's  life,  such  is 
his  moral  faith  that  this  meanest  and  most  selfish  of 
vices  is  subjugated  even  in  a  king,  and  gives  place  to 
the  virtue  and  grace  of  humility.  A  more  difficult  spir- 
itual task  can  scarcely  be  conceived.  Yet  Shakespeare 
depicts  the  whole  matter  with  consummate  artistic  skill, 
and  presents  it  with  an  unwavering  faith  in  the  possi- 
bility of  its  eradication. 

Gloucester,  meanwhile,  is  saved  from  himself  by  the 
skillful  deception  of  Edgar  in  the  famous  Cliff  Scene. 
By  very  careful  manipulation  of  the  blind  old  man 
Edgar  brings  him  to  his  senses,  and,  as  soon  as  he  can, 
reveals  himself  to  him.  His  devotion  to  his  father  has 
been  truer  than  Cordelia's  to  Lear,  for  at  no  time  does 
he  get  into  an  attitude  of  opposition  or  defiance,  but 
patiently  resigns  himself  to  the  injustice  done  him  at 
the  instigation  of  Edmund.  For  this  heroic  faithful- 
ness Shakespeare  spares  him  to  the  end  and  brings 
him  to  a  triumphant  vindication.  Nothing  extraordi- 
nary happens  to  bring  it  about,  but  only  the  plain 
course  of  events.  Shakespeare  again  shows  a  sublime 
faith  in  the  moral  order,  and  in  its  certainty  to  bring 
ultimate  triumph  to  right.  Albany,  too,  who  shows 
an  excellent  spirit,  is  brought  through  the  play  and 
made  the  heir  of  the  entire  kingdom. 

Tate's  revision  of  Kmg  Lear,  like  all  eighteenth  cen- 
tury versions  of  Shakespeare,  is  now-a-days  pretty 


Kmg  Lear  285 

generally  discredited.  But  a  careful  reading  neverthe- 
less reveals  many  features  that  even  the  twentieth 
century  mind  is  at  first  disposed  to  legard  as  excel- 
lences. In  making  Edgar  rather  than  France  the  wooer 
and  later  the  husband  of  Cordelia,  Tate  weaves  the  two 
stories  of  the  play  closer  together  than  Shakespeare. 
The  Gloucester  story  ceases  to  be  a  parallel  and  un- 
derplot to  the  Lear  story,  and  becomes  an  integral  part 
of  the  main  movement.  But  his  conclusion,  in  which  he 
married  Edgar  to  Cordelia,  takes  away  Shakespeare's 
verdict  on  Cordelia's  obstinacy,  thus  robbing  the  play 
of  much  of  its  moral  meaning.  Furthermore,  his  con- 
tinuance of  Lear  in  a  renewed  life  detracts  from  Shake- 
speare's pronouncement  on  the  curse  of  absolutism 
on  both  the  sovereign  and  the  people,  and  destroys  the 
Shakespearean  conception  that  it  is  a  fatal  vice  of 
kings.  Opinions  may  differ  about  the  artistic  merits 
of  Tate's  version,  but  there  cannot  well  be  a  denial  that 
Shakespeare's  has  much  the  deeper  spiritual  meaning. 
It  is  here  that  Shakespeare  always  excels.  Shake- 
speare's play  is  a  kind  of  Final  Judgment,  in  which  as 

Albany  says: 

"All  friends  shall  taste 
The  wages  of  their  virtue,  and  all  foes 
The  cup  of  their  deservings." 

(V.  Hi.  303-5.) 

Probably  more  than  in  any  other  play  the  development 
of  the  narrative  separates  the  good  and  the  bad,  mak- 
ing the  good  better,  and  the  bad  worse,  and  finally  lead- 
ing those  "more  sinned  against  than  sinning"  into  bet- 
ter ways. 

VIII 

The  opinion  has  recently  been  expressed  that  the  view 
of  the  world  presented  in  King  Lear  is  not  the  Christian 


286  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

conception.1  It  is  very  difficult  to  sympathize  with 
this  opinion,  for  it  involves  an  erroneous  view  of  King 
Lear,  or  of  Christianity,  or  of  both.  Nothing  could 
be  more  in  accord  with  Christianity  than  the  view  of 
the  moral  life  just  set  forth  as  the  underlying  concep- 
tion of  the  play.  That  it  is  moral  wrong  that  sepa- 
rates persons  into  two  classes,  and  that  the  broad  way 
leads  to  destruction,  and  the  narrow  way  to  life  is  the 
very  essence  of  Christianity.  Both  the  play  and  Chris- 
tianity maintain  the  view  that  the  course  of  human  life 
is  presided  over  by  a  Power  greater  than  the  individ- 
ual, and  that  that  Power  metes  out  destinies  according 
to  the  life  lived.  At  the  same  time  both  provide  for  a 
change  of  heart  on  the  part  of  evil-doers.  Repentance 
and  forgiveness  are  fundamental  conceptions  in  both. 
It  does  not  come  within  the  sphere  of  the  dramatist  to 
formulate  metaphysical  conceptions,  but  his  view  of  the 
moral  order  is  in  perfect  accord  with  the  theistic  view 
of  Christianity.  Many  of  the  conceptions  of  Chris- 
tianity are  no  doubt  not  to  be  found  in  the  play,  but 
whatever  views  the  play  does  contain  are  decidedly 
Christian,  and  it  contains  about  all  the  elements  of 
Christianity  that  could  naturally  be  included  in  a 
drama.  Professor  Bradley  has  well  said  that  in  King 
Lear  "evil  is  merely  destructive :  it  founds  nothing,  and 
seems  capable  of  existing  only  on  foundations  laid  by 
its  opposite.  It  is  also  ^/-destructive:  it  sets  these 
beings  at  enmity.  .  .  .  Thus  the  world  in  which  evil 
appears  seems  to  be  at  heart  unfriendly  to  it." 2 
This  is  the  fundamental  Christian  conception  that  evil 
is  the  one  great  destroyer  of  men,  and  the  unalterable 

1  A.  E.  Taylor,  "The  Case  of  Lear,"  University  Magazine  (Mon- 
treal), VI,  2,  April,  1907,  pp.  206-225. 

2  Shakespearean  Tragedy,  p.  304. 


Kmg  Lear  287 

enemy  of  mankind. 

Swinburne  has  said  that  the  play  is  "dark  and  hard," 
and  presents  a  "tragic  fatalism"  that  has  no  "twilight 
of  atonement,"  and  no  reconciliation.1  Professor 
Bradley  has  also  said  that  "In  no  other  of  his  trage- 
dies does  humanity  appear  more  pitiably  infirm  or  more 
hopelessly  bad."  2  Rather  should  we  say  that  it  pre- 
sents the  moral  world  as  inexorably  just,  and  that 
it  is  hopeless  only  to  persons  who  persist  in  the  ways 
of  evil.  If  life  were  the  only  desirable  thing,  there 
would  be  only  despair  for  evil-doers,  for  Lear  and 
Cordelia  do  not  save  their  lives  by  changing  their 
ways.  But  the  play  depicts  an  open  way  toward  moral 
restoration  and  seems  to  promise  redemption  to  all 
who  will  forsake  evil.  So  long,  then,  as  the  world  is 
just,  but  holds  out  hope  for  the  penitent,  there  is  no 
need  for  despair.  The  play  of  course  is  dark,  for  there 
is  so  much  evil,  and  so  much  suffering,  and  so  few  of 
the  persons  escape  the  final  judgment.  But  there  is 
always  a  ray  of  light  in  the  darkness,  and  where  there 
is  light  there  is  hope.  The  few  persons,  too,  who  escape 
the  contamination  are  among  the  finest  characters 
in  all  Shakespeare.  We  are  ceasing,  however,  to  ex- 
pect Shakespeare's  full  and  final  view  of  the  world  in 
any  one  play,  and  are  beginning  to  look  to  the  entire 
Shakespearean  drama  for  his  complete  thought.  When 
we  do  that  we  get  a  view  of  the  world  that  inspires 
confidence  rather  than  despair. 

Professor  Bradley  has  noticed  that  the  references  to 
religion  in  King  Lear  are  about  as  frequent  as  in  the 
final  plays.  It  is  very  significant  that  the  references 
to  religion  become  more  frequent  as  Shakespeare  ap- 


1  Study  of  Shakespeare,  pp.  171-2. 
8  Op.  cit.  p.  273. 


£88  Hamlet,  an  Ideal  Prince 

preached  the  end.  The  last  plays,  too,  present  a 
brighter  and  much  more  optimistic  view  of  life  than 
the  earlier,  and  this  has  been  taken  to  mean  that  the 
dramatist  presents  this  as  his  mature  and  final  view.  It 
may  only  mean,  however,  that  Shakespeare  had  now 
reached  the  stage  of  his  dramatic  career  in  which  he 
could  fill  out  and  complete  his  view,  and  that  for  this 
completion  the  ideas  of  mercy  and  forgiveness  were 
naturally  presented  more  clearly  in  the  last  plays.  In 
support  of  this  it  may  be  urged  that  nothing  in  the 
last  plays  is  really  new,  for  every  element  had  already 
appeared  in  numerous  earlier  plays.  But  what  is  new 
is  that  these  elements  of  light  and  hope  are  given  a 
fresh  emphasis,  indicating  no  doubt  a  growing  confi- 
dence in  these  principles  on  the  part  of  the  drama- 
tist. 

It  is  because  of  these  great  moral  and  spiritual  quali- 
ties in  his  dramas  that  Shakespeare  is  so  rapidly  becom- 
ing the  greatest  teacher  of  the  modern  world,  and  espe- 
cially of  the  English-speaking  peoples,  as  Homer  was  of 
the  Greeks.  The  long-continued  and  careful  study  of 
his  dramas  has  trained  the  modern  mind  to  think  his 
thoughts  until  his  influence  has  been  surpassed  only  by 
the  Bible  itself.  We  are  slowly  coming  to  agree  with  his 
opinion  of  the  characters  of  his  dramas,  and  in  this  are 
acquiring  a  much  more  reliable  moral  judgment.  The 
centuries  of  criticism  have  veered  hither  and  thither  in 
their  judgments,  but  now  show  a  tendency  to  come  back 
to  Shakespeare,  and  to  accept  whatever  is  manifestly  the 
opinion  of  the  dramatist.  Shakespeare  is  rightly  as- 
suming his  place  as  one  of  the  greatest  school-masters 
of  mankind. 


NOTES 


NOTES 
NOTE  A 

THE   STAGING   OF   THE   FIRST    SCENE   OF   HAMLET 

THE  all  but  universal  failure  of  actors  as  well  as 
critics  to  find  any  great  significance  in  the  first 
scene  of  Hamlet  has  led  inevitably  to  an  indiffer- 
ence to  or  a  neglect  of  its  proper  staging.     If  Shake- 
speare's  text  is   taken   as   of  no   significance,   then  it 
follows  that  the  staging  of  the  scene  will  not  be  such  as 
to  give  any  meaning  to  his  words.     If  the  scene  can- 
not be  understood  as  of  great  dramatic  importance,  it  is 
not  to  be  wondered  at  that  it  has  not  had  a  proper 
and  significant  setting. 

There  are  no  stage  directions  in  the  First  Folio  ex- 
cept the  entrances  and  exits,  but  modern  editors  gen- 
erally adopt  those  suggested  by  Capell  and  Malone,  as 
follows:  "Elsinore.  A  Platform  before  the  Castle." 
This  is  no  doubt  correct,  so  far  as  it  goes,  but  it  needs 
elaboration.  Most  actors  seem  to  make  this  a  view 
looking  toward  the  castle,  with  the  platform  in  the  fore- 
ground, and  only  the  castle  in  the  background.  But  the 
point  of  view  should  be  reversed,  with  the  platform  and 
part  of  the  castle  in  the  immediate  foreground,  and 
with  the  outlook  from  the  platform  as  the  wide  and 
extensive  background  of  the  scene. 

On  Shakespeare's  own  stage  there  was,  of  course,  no 
attempt  to  represent  the  actual  setting  of  the  scene. 
It  was  this  very  lack  of  stage  setting,  as  an  appeal 

291 


Notes 

to  the  eye,  that  made  it  necessary  for  Shakespeare  to 
give  full  and  exhaustive  exposition  to  such  opening 
scenes  as  were  of  great  dramatic  importance.  In  Ham- 
let this  dramatic  exposition  is  unusually  full  and  com- 
plete, and  should  determine  the  modern  staging  of  the 
scene.  On  our  representative  stage,  all  the  elements  in 
the  exposition  should  be  given  their  due  and  proper 
place. 

The  proper  setting  is  not  difficult  to  determine,  for  it 
is  all  brought  out  in  the  conversation  of  the  guards. 
Apart  from  the  entrances  and  the  exits  of  the  various 
persons  and  the  ghost,  the  settings  are  all  referred  to 
in  one  of  the  speeches  of  Marcellus.  In  his  inquiry  for 
an  explanation  of  the  extraordinary  activities  he  sees 
going  on  in  the  country  he  speaks  first  of  "this  same 
strict  and  most  observant  watch."  He  asks  why 
"nightly  toils  the  subject  of  the  land,"  and  then  goes 
on  to  explain  the  nature  of  the  work  upon  which  these 
laborers  are  engaged.  He  next  speaks  of  "such  daily 
cast  of  brazen  cannon,"  and  asks : 

"Why  such  impress  of  shipwrights,  whose  sore  task 
Does  not  divide  the  Sunday  from  the  week?" 

The  two  things,  then,  that  especially  attract  his  at- 
tention are  the  feverish  haste  with  which  the  Danes  are 
casting  new  cannon,  and  the  re-doubled  speed  with 
which  they  are  building  new  ships.  In  both  of  these 
kinds  of  labor  they  are  working  day  and  night. 

It  is  to  be  supposed,  therefore,  that  some  evidence 
of  these  operations  can  be  observed  from  the  platform 
where  they  are  standing,  even  in  the  darkness  of  the 
night.  The  foundries  and  the  shipyards  where  these 
labors  are  going  on  are  doubtless  on  the  water-front, 
about  the  harbor,  which  is  overlooked  by  the  castle 


Notes  293 

and  the  platform.     They  might,  indeed,  be  both  seen 
and  heard  even  in  the  night. 

The  stage  setting,  then,  should  indicate  these  nightly 
toils.  Instead  of  showing  the  castle  alone  in  the  back- 
ground, the  setting  should  show  a  platform  overlook- 
ing the  harbor  and  the  sea,  and  with  some  indication 
even  in  the  night  of  the  foundries  and  the  shipyards 
that  are  busy  both  day  and  night.  This  setting,  then, 
would  suggest  as  the  play  intimates  that  the  Danes  are 
anxiously  preparing  to  meet  an  impending  attack  from 
the  sea  upon  their  kingdom.  As  we  know  from 
Horatio's  words,  this  attack  was  to  come  from  Nor- 
way, led  by  young  Fortinbras  for  the  purpose  of  re- 
gaining the  lands  lost  to  Denmark  by  his  father.  The 
setting,  then,  on  our  modern  representative  stage 
should  give  some  clue  to  this  situation. 

NOTE  B 

HORATIO,  AND  HIS  PART  IN  THE  PLAY 

MANY  critics  have  noticed  little  apparent  dis- 
crepancies in  the  role  played  by  Horatio  in  the 
first  scene  of  the  play.  Professor  Bradley  calls 
attention  to  the  fact  that  when  Hamlet  meets 
Horatio  he  scarcely  recognizes  him  at  first.1  Horatio 
seems,  in  fact,  to  be  a  stranger  in  Denmark,  though  he 
tells  Hamlet  that  he  had  seen  his  father  once.  (I.  ii. 
186.)  At  a  later  time  Hamlet  explains  to  him  some  of 
the  manners  and  customs  of  the  country,  and  his  re- 
mark that  he  is  himself  "a  native  here  and  to  the 
manner  born,"  seems  to  imply  that  Horatio  is  not  a 
native.  (I.  iv.  15.) 

1  Shakespearean  Tragedy,  p.  404. 


294  Notes 

Yet,  in  spite  of  this,  it  is  to  Horatio  that  the 
dramatist  gives  the  task  of  explaining  "the  past  his- 
tory and  present  affairs  of  the  kingdom."  It  is  he 
who  answers  the  questions  of  Marcellus  in  the  first 
scene  about  the  war-like  preparations.  It  is  he  who 
gives  the  reason  for  the  feverish  casting  of  cannon  and 
the  building  of  new  ships  with  such  haste  that  the 
laborers  are  kept  busy  day  and  night,  as  well  as  Sun- 
days. 

Horatio  seems  to  know  more  about  the  affairs  of 
Denmark  than  Marcellus,  who  presumably  is  himself 
a  Dane.  And  all  this  before  he  has  met  Hamlet,  in  the 
play.  Horatio  is  able  to  explain  the  present  situation 
in  the  light  of  the  past  history  of  the  country,  and  it  is 
from  him  that  we  get  nearly  all  the  historical  facts 
relating  to  the  elder  Hamlet.  From  the  Prince  we  get 
the  character  of  the  late  king,  but  it  is  from  Horatio 
that  we  get  his  history. 

Though  this  seems  to  be  a  discrepancy  in  the  play, 
it  is  easily  seen  to  be  of  no  vital  significance  in  the  in- 
terpretation of  the  drama.  It  may  possibly  be  con- 
sidered an  artistic  blemish,  but  it  does  not  affect  the 
larger  meaning  of  the  play.  It  is  of  no  great  con- 
sequence who  supplies  this  preliminary  information 
about  the  elder  Hamlet,  and  furnishes  the  history  of 
the  country.  The  important  thing  is  that  this  in- 
formation is  given,  and  >that  it  is  given  by  one  so  close 
to  Hamlet  in  the  play  that  his  words  can  be  taken  as 
giving  us  accurate  facts  of  history. 

Had  the  dramatist  cared  for  such  matters,  he  might 
have  avoided  the  discrepancy  by  having  Horatio,  as 
the  stranger,  ask  the  questions,  and  by  giving  the 
answers  to  Marcellus  who  apparently  is  a  native  Dane. 
But  this  would  have  furnished  the  information  from  a 


Notes  295 

source  not  close  enough  to  Hamlet  to  give  proper  color 
to  his  words.  Throughout  the  play  the  part  of  con- 
fidant is  everywhere  played  by  Horatio.  For  the 
dramatist  to  give  this  part  to  Horatio  at  the  open- 
ing of  the  play  before  he  had  met  his  old  friend  from 
the  university  is  to  show  that  his  mind  was  busy 
chiefly  upon  the  larger  aspects  of  the  drama.  These 
are  in  no  way  affected  by  the  fact  that  in  the  play  we 
get  our  inside  information  from  an  outside  person. 


NOTE  C 

HAMLET,    III.     IV.     122-130 

Queen.  O  gentle  son,  .  .  . 

Upon  the  heat  and  flame  of  thy  distemper 
Sprinkle  cool  patience.     Whereon  do  you  look? 

Hamlet.     On  him,  on  him !    Look  you,  how  pale  he  glares ! 
His  form  and  cause  conjoin'd,  preaching  to  stones, 
Would  make  them  capable. — Do  not  look  upon  me, 
Lest  with  this  piteous  action  you  convert 
My  stern  effects;  then  what  I  have  to  do 
Will  want  true  color!  tears  perchance  for  blood. 

THIS  conversation  follows  immediately  the  ghost's 
last  appearance  and  his  final  words  to  Hamlet.  The 
Prince  thought  his  father's  ghost  had  come  his  "tardy 
son  to  chide,"  and  the  ghost  tells  him, 

"This  visitation 
Is  but  to  whet  thy  almost  blunted  purpose." 

He  then  directs  Hamlet's  attention  to  his  mother, 
counselling  him  to  "step  between  her  and  her  fighting 
soul." 

Hamlet,  then,  is  once  more  forced  to  face  the  very 
difficult  task  of  trying  to  revenge  his  father  and  at 
the  same  time  to  spare  his  mother.  This  is  the  moral 


296  Nates 

character  of  Hamlet  disclosing  itself.  The  double 
duty  is  hard,  to  discharge.  To  revenge  his  father  is 
to  kill  the  king,  and  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  kill  the 
king  without  harming  his  mother.  Hamlet  is  placed 
in  a  very  perplexing  moral  dilemma.  He  has  an  obliga- 
tion to  his  father  and  an  obligation  to  his  mother,  and 
the  two  seem  to  conflict,  or  at  least  the  performance  of 
the  one  seems  to  necessitate  the  disregard  of  the  other. 
To  revenge  his  father  and  to  spare  his  mother  are 
almost  like  two  incompatible  tasks.  The  problem  of 
the  entire  play  is  Hamlet's  attempt  to  devise  means 
to  accomplish  both. 

Facing,  then,  this  difficulty,  and  urged  once  more  by 
the  ghost  to  both  undertakings,  Hamlet  discovers  that 
his  mother  does  not  see  the  ghost.  Thinking  he  is 
gazing  into  "the  incorporal  air"  she  becomes  alarmed 
lest  he  is  distracted,  or  in  a  "distemper."  She,  there- 
fore, importunes  him  in  terror,  "Whereon  do  you 
look?"  To  this  Hamlet  replies,  "On  him,  on  him!" 
Then  he  goes  on  to  say : 

"Do  not  look  upon  me, 
Lest  with  this  piteous  action  you  convert 
My  stern  effects." 

This  conversation  is  usually  taken  as  further  evi- 
dence of  Hamlet's  constitutional  inability  to  carry  out 
any  course  of  action  or  revenge.  It  has  been  assumed 
that  his  "stern  effects"  are  converted  into  weakness  or 
procrastination  by  the  sight  of  the  piteous  ghost  of 
his  father,  and  that  in  the  very  act  of  trying  to  whet 
Hamlet's  dull  revenge  the  ghost  succeeds  only  in 
further  causing  delay  and  inactivity. 

This,  however,  cannot  well  be  the  right  interpreta- 
tion of  the  passage.  When  the  queen  asks  Hamlet, 
"Whereon  do  you  look?"  he  is,  of  course,  looking  on 


Notes  297 

the  ghost  which  she  does  not  see.  While  talking  to  his 
mother  he  is  looking  upon  the  ghost  of  his  father.  He 
says  further,  referring  to  the  ghost : 

"Look  you,  how  pale  he  glares ! 
His  form  and  cause  conjoin'd,  preaching  to  stones, 
Would  make  them  capable." 

The  effect  of  the  appearance  of  the  ghost  is,  therefore, 
the  very  reverse  of  causing  Hamlet  to  delay,  but  as 
when  he  made  his  first  appearance,  he  incites  him  to 
action : 

"Haste  me  to  know  't,  that  I,  with  wings  as  swift 
As  meditation  or  the  thoughts  of  love, 
May  sweep  to  my  revenge."  (I.  v.  29-31.) 

With  such  thoughts  in  his  mind,  and  with  such  in- 
centives to  action,  Hamlet  stands  rapt  in  gaze  upon  his 
father's  ghost.  At  that  moment  his  attention  is  drawn 
to  his  mother,  and  he  turns  to  her,  only  to  find  her 
apparently  thinking  him  distracted,  and  piteously  look- 
ing upon  her  son.  His  next  words,  then,  are  addressed 
to  her  and  not  to  the  ghost : 

"Do  not  look  upon  me, 
Lest  with  this  piteous  action  you  convert 
My  stern  effects." 

Seeing  her  piteous  actions  and  her  alarm  and  amaze- 
ment he  fears  his  compassion  for  his  mother,  who  is 
the  real  object  of  pity,  will  rob  him  of  his  purpose  to 
kill  the  king.  He  therefore  begs  her  not  to  let  her 
piteous  actions  deprive  him  of  his  stern  resolve,  and 
disarm  him  for  the  great  task  of  executing  vengeance 
upon  the  king.  If  she  continue  her  piteous  action  he 
will  be  led  to  shed  tears  rather  than  blood,  and  tears 
"will  want  true  color." 

At  the  last,  as  at  the  first,  Hamlet  finds  that  the  re- 


298  Notes 

straint  placed  upon  him  of  not  harming  his  mother  in 
carrying  out  his  great  work  of  revenging  his  father 
magnifies  the  difficulty  of  his  task.  When  to  this  is 
added  the  other  restraint  he  places  upon  himself  of 
not  harming  his  native  land,  it  may  be  seen  that  his 
difficulties  are  almost  insuperable.  In  all  his  attempts 
to  perform  his  task  he  spares  his  mother  and  he  spares 
Denmark,  and  it  is  only  the  supreme  perfidy  of  the 
king  that  at  last  leads  to  the  death  of  the  queen  and 
the  sacrifice  of  the  life  of  Hamlet  himself. 


NOTE    D 


OTHELLO  S  COLOR,  AND  ITS  DRAMATIC   SIGNIFICANCE 

MANY  critics  and  actors  seem  to  have  the  no- 
tion that  Othello's  color  is  a  matter  of  no  sig- 
nificance in  the  play.  All  they  see  is  that  he 
is  a  man,  but  a  man  who  happens  to  be  black.  Pro- 
fessor Bradley,  for  instance,  says :  "Othello's  race  .  .  . 
makes  a  difference  to  our  idea  of  him;  it  makes  a  dif- 
ference to  the  action  and  catastrophe.  But  in  regard 
to  the  essentials  of  his  character  it  is  not  important."  l 
A  few  pages  later,  however — but  in  a  footnote — he 
admits  that  "The  effect  of  difference  in  blood  in  in- 
j  creasing  Othello's  bewilderment  regarding  his  wife  is 
(not  sufficiently  realized."  2 

The  difference  in  color  between  Othello  and  Des- 
demona,  however,  is  but  the  dramatist's  device  to  ex- 
hibit to  the  eye  the  "difference  of  blood."  Othello's 
color,  therefore,  is  what  marks  the  difference  in  blood 
and  character.  And  no  one  who  reads  the  text  can 

1  Shakespearean  Tragedy,  p.  187. 

2  Ibid.,  p.  193. 


Notes  299 

doubt  that  the  dramatist  has  given  Othello's  color  a 
very  great  prominence  in  the  play.  The  play  contains 
no  fewer  than  seventeen  distinct  references  to  Othello's 
color,  and  it  is  a  strange  interpretation  of  Shake- 
speare's play  that  attributes  no  significance  to  what 
the  dramatist  has  so  sedulously  elaborated. 

Apart  from  the  numberless  times  he  is  called  a 
"Moor,"  the  following,  then,  are  the  passages  in  the 
play  that  refer  to  Othello's  color: 

What  a  full  fortune  does  the  thick-lips-  owe 

If  he  can  carry't  thus?  (I.  i.  72-3.) 

Sir,  y'are  robb'd,  for  shame  put  on  your  gown, 

Your  heart  is  burst,  you  have  lost  half  your  soul, 

Even  now,  now,  very  now,  an  old-black  ram 

Is  tupping  your  white  ewe.  (I.  i.  94-7.) 

Whether  a  maid,  so  tender,  fair,  and  happy,  .  .  . 

Would  ever  have  (t'incur  a  general  mock) 

Run  from  her  guardage  to  the  sooty  bosom, 

Of  such  a  thing  as  thou.  (I.  ii.  82-88.) 

A  maiden,  never  bold: 

Of  spirit  so  still,  and  quiet,  that  her  motion 
Blush'd  at  herself,  and  she,  in  spite  of  nature, 
Of  years,  of  country,  credit,  everything 
To  fall  in  love,  with  what  she  fear'd  to  look  on; 
It  is  a  iudgment  maim'd,  and  most  imperfect. 

(I.  iii.  113-118.) 

My  heart's  subdu'd 
Even  to  the  very  quality  of  my  lord; 
I  saw  Othello's  visage  in  his  mind, 
And  to  his  honors  and  his  valiant  parts, 
Did  I  my  soul  and  fortunes  consecrate. 

(I.  iii.  278-282.) 

And  noble  signior, 
If  virtue  no  delighted  beauty  lack, 
Your  son-in-law  is  far  more  fair  than  blacJf. 

(I.  iii.  319-321.) 

Desdemona.    How  if  she  be  black  and  witty? 
lago.    If  she  be  black,  and  thereto  have  a  wit, 

She'll  find  a  white,  that  shall  her  blackness  fit. 

(II.  i.  156-8.) 


300  Notes 

Her  eye  must  be  fed.  And  what  delight  shall  she  have  to  look 
on  the  devil?  .  .  .  Loveliness  in  favor,  sympathy  in  years,  man- 
ners, and  beauties:  all  which  the  Moor  is  defective  in. 

(II.  i.  258-263.) 

Well  .  .  .  come  lieutenant,  I  have  a  stoup  of  wine,  and  here 
without  are  a  brace  of  Cyprus  gallants,  that  would  fain  have  a 
measure  to  the  health  of  black  Othello.  (II.  ii.  45-48.) 

Nor  from  mine  own  weak  merits,  will  I  draw 

The  smallest  fear,  or  doubt  of  her  revolt, 

For  she  had  eyes,  and  chose  me.  (III.  iii.  216-8.) 

She  did  deceive  her  father,  marrying  you, 

And  when  she  seem'd  to  shake,  and  fear  your  looks, 

She  lov'd  them  most.  (III.  iii.  236-8.) 

Ay,  there's  the  point, 

As  (to  be  bold  with  you) 

Not  to  affect  your  proposed  matches 

Of  her  own  clime,  complexion,  and  degree, 

Whereto  we  see  in  all  things,  nature  tends:     .     .     . 

But  (pardon  me)  I  do  not  in  position 

Distinctly  speak  of  her,  though  I  may  fear 

Her  will,  recoiling  to  her  better  judgment, 

'May  fall  to  match  you  with  her  country  forms, 

And  happily  repent.  (III.  iii.  268-279.) 


Haply,  for  I  am 

And  have  not  those  soft  parts  of  conversation 
That  chamberers  have.  (III.  iii.  307-9.) 

My  name  that  was  as  fresh 
As  Dian's  visage,  is  now  begrim'd  and  black 
As  mine  own  face.  (III.  iii.  445-7.) 

I  think  the  sun  where  he  was  born, 
Drew  all  such  humors  from  him. 

(III.  iv.  34-35.) 

Emilia.     Oh,  the  more  angel  she,  and  you  the  blacker  devil. 
Othello.     She  turn'd  to  folly:  and  she  was  a  whore. 
Emilia.    Thou  dost  belie  her,  and  thou  art  a  dgdl. 

(V.  ii.  164-6.) 

If  he  say  so,  may  his  pernicious  soul 

Rot  half  a  grain  a  day:  he  lies  to  th'  heart, 

She  was  too  fond  of  her  most  filthy  bargain. 

(V.ii.  194-6.) 


INDEX 


INDEX 


Absolutism.  Cf.    Despotism. 

Accident  in  the  drama,  151- 
153,  221,  223. 

Additions.  Cf.    Changes. 

Albany,  Duke  of,  251,  275, 
284,  285. 

Alden,  R.  M.,  176,  182,  183. 

Ambition,  33,  46,  48,  56,  71, 
79,92,119,120,  125,  173, 
213,  214,  253,  254,  259- 

"Antic  disposition,"  Ham- 
let's, 62,  62-5,  95.  Cf.  also 
Madness. 

Antonio,  and  Bassanio,  139, 

141,  142,  143,  150-1,  154, 
168;  and  Portia,  140,  141, 

142,  143,   149,   156,   158, 
168,    169;    and    Shylock, 

138,  140,   143,    144,   145, 
146,   147,   148,   149,   150, 
151,   153,   154,   155,    156, 
163-4,  165;  as  representa- 
tive  Christian,    135,    136, 
145-6,  149,  155;  Bond  of, 
150,  154,   156,  158,  167; 
Character    of,    145,    146, 
147;  Merchant  of  Venice, 
as  story  of,  130,  137,  138, 

139,  140,  167. 

Antony  and  Cleopatra,  236. 


Armor,  The  ghost  in,  44-6. 

Arnold,  Matthew,  283. 

Arragon,  The  Prince  of, 
152. 

Art,  Shakespeare's.  Cf.  Dra- 
matic art. 

Arthur,  Prince,  31,  124. 

Avenger,  Hamlet  as,  46,  56, 
57-62,  82-3,  120;  Shylock 
as,  133,  155.  Cf.  also  Re- 
venge. 

Bacon,  Francis,  161. 

Banishment,  Hamlet's,  90, 
98,  107-8,  110,  123. 

Bassanio,  138,  139,  141, 
142,  143,  144,  147,  150-1, 
152,  153,  154,  167,  168, 
169. 

Belief  orest,  Francis  de 
(Hystorie  of  Hamblet), 
30,  31-2,  39,  49,  60,  62, 
78,  120,  125. 

Bestrafte  Brudermord,  Der. 
Cf.  German  play  of  Ham- 
let. 

Bianca,  227. 

Bible,  Shakespeare  and  the, 
183,  288. 

Blackwood's  Magazine,  206. 
303 


304 


Index 


Bodenstedt,  F.,  201. 

Booth;  Edwin,  on  Shylock, 
148. 

Brabantio,  195,  197,  198, 
200,  203,  235,  236,  238. 

Bradley,  A.  C.,  on  Hamlet, 
24,  82,  123;  on  Lear,  258, 
261;  on  Othello,  173-4, 
181,  186,  188,  190,  192, 
196,  199,  203,  204,  210, 
213,  214,  221,  227,  229, 
233,  258,  279,  286,  287. 

Brandes,  George,  131,  134, 
149,  165,  167. 

Business  methods,  Conflict 
of,  in  Merchant  of  Venice, 
144,  149,  155,  164. 

Caird,  Edward,  265. 

Campbell,  Lewis,  213. 

— ,  Thomas,   122,   134, 
160-1. 

Caskets,  The,  in  Merchant 
of  Venice,  137,  138,  140, 
141,  142,  143,  151,  152-3, 
167,  168. 

Cassio,  188,  190,  191,  192, 
196,  208,  214,  218,  220, 
224,  227,  229,  230,  231, 
235,  238-9. 

Chance.  Cf.  Accident. 

Changes  made  by  Shake- 
speare, in  his  stories,  13, 
16,  30,  37;  in  Hamlet,  30, 
39-40,  49,  78;  in  Lear, 
248,  250,  276-7,  280,  281, 
282;  in  Merchant  of  Ven- 


ice, 30,  137,  138,  140, 
164;  in  Othello,  194,  195, 
206,  237,  238,  239,  242. 

Character,  in  Moralities,  12; 
in  Marlowe,  12;  in 
Shakespeare,  12,  13,  14. 

,   Othello,   a  tragedy 

of,   181,  222,  239. 

Christianity,  101,  136,  165; 
166,  285-6,  and  Judaism, 
154-5;  Antonio's  concep- 
tion of,  146;  Principle  of, 
157,  158,  165. 

Cinthio,  as  source  of  Othel- 
lo, 194,  195,  206,  225, 
237,  238,  239,  242. 

Claudius,  and  Elder  Hamlet, 
46,  47,  50,  58,  59,  72; 
and  Macbeth,  51;  and 
Norway,  50,  109,  HO;- 
and  Polonius,  64,  84,  85, 
86,  94;  and  Rosencrantz 
and  Guildenstern,  69,  81, 
88,  90,  108;  as  a  fratri-' 
cide,  47,  59,  74,  95,~98-9, 
104;  at  prayer,  100-3; 
Character  of,  47,  50-1,  52, 
82,  87,  115,  116-7;  Fear 
of  Hamlet,  77,  88,  9»r 
107,  108;  Influence  of, 

/  30-1,  43,  47,  51-2,  53,  75,' 
76,  78,  120,  125;  Unmask- 
ing of,  116-7.  Cf.  also 
Denmark  and  Claudius ; 
Hamlet  and  the  King; 
Laertes  and  Claudius. 

Closing   scenes,   Importance 


Index 


305 


of,  14,  230,  233;  in  Ham- 
let, 113-120;  in  Lear,  248, 
260,  280-5;  in  Merchant 
of  Venice,  139,  167-9;  in 
Othello,  230-9. 

Coleridge,  S.  T.,  178;  on 
Hamlet,  23-4;  Cf.  also 
Goethe-Coleridge;  o  n 
Lear,  256,  257,  261;  on 
Othello,  178-9,  181,  192, 
218-9. 

Color,  Othello's,  197-8,  199, 
206,  207,  209,  223,  225, 
226;  Importance  of,  298- 
300. 

Conclusions.  Cf.  Closing 
scenes. 

Conflict,  The,  in  Hamlet, 
114-6;  in  Lear,  267;  in 
Merchant  of  Venice,  144, 
153,  154-5;  in  Othello, 
184,  187,  189,  198,  208, 
209. 

Conflicts,  solved  only  by 
love,  153,  169,  279-  Cf. 
also  Love. 

Cordelia,  248;  and  Lear, 
252,  257,  258,  260,  261, 
262,  263,  264,  265,  269, 
271,  272,  275,  276,  277, 
278,  279,  280,  281,  282, 
283,  285,  287;  Desdemona 
and,  173;  Character  of, 
248,  260,  261,  262-4,  276- 
7,  278,  283;  Death  of, 
283. 

Corson,  Hiram,  23,  180. 


Criticism  of  Shakespeare^ 
The,  15,  21,  23-6,  27-8, 
33,  37,  80,  130,  159,  160, 
174,  176,  177,  178,  181-5, 
187,  203-4,  211,  229,  233, 
248,  249,  250,  255,  280, 
281-2,  285-8.  Cf.  also  In- 
terpretation. 

Danish  legend  of  Hamlet, 
30-2. 

Death,  of  Claudius,  110, 
116,  117;  of  Elder  Ham- 
let, 58,  72,  74,  75;  of 
Hamlet,  117-8,  118-9- 
120-1;  of  Lear  and  Cor- 
delia, 279,  280,  281,  282, 
283,  284,  285; 'of  Othello 
and  Desdemona,  231-2, 
236,  237,  238;  of  Poloni- 
us,  87,  90,  104,  107;  of 
the  Queen  (Gertrude), 
117. 

Denmark,      and      England, 

108,  110,   112;  and  Nor- 
way, 33,  37,  38,  39,  40-3, 
45,  46,  48,  50,  57-8,   77, 

109,  HO,  120;  The  Condi- 
tion   of,    under    Claudius, 
30-1,   33,  41,  43,  45,  46, 
47,  50-4,   56,  57,  62,   71, 
74,  75,  76,  78,  109,  HI,. 
113,  121,  125. 

Desdemona,  and  Cassio,  188, 
191,  192,  218,  220,  224, 
238-9;  and  lago,  188,  194, 
195,  212,  218,  226;  and 


• 


306 


Index 


Othello,  173,  174,  176, 
179,  181,  183,  184,  187, 
188,  189-190,  192,  196- 

203,  203-6,  208,  209,  210, 
222,  223-4,  225,  226,  227, 
228,   229,  231,   233,   234, 
235,  236,  240;   Character 
of,   182,   183-4,  232,  233, 
234. 

Despotism,  in  Lear's  day, 
253;  Lear,  as  a  picture  of, 
254,  273;  of  Lear,  249, 
256;  Moral  effects  on 
Lear,  257,  268,  269,  273. 

Dowden,   Edward,  27,   122, 

204,  250. 

Doyle,  John  T.,  159-160. 

Drama,  Two  types  of,  11- 
12;  and  history,  33,  184, 
255;  The  Classical,  180; 
The  Romantic,  97,  177. 

Dramatic  art,  Shakespeare's. 
12,  13,  14,  15,  27-8,  36^ 
175,  180,  184-5,  191,  199; 
in  Hamlet,  33,  36,  39,  40- 
43,  96-7,  124;  in  Lear, 
247-249,  250-1,  277,  280, 
281,  283,  284,  285,  286; 
in  Merchant  of  Venice, 
30,  40,  136,  148-9;  in 
Othello,  184-5,  189,  191, 
202,  208,  222-3,  225-6, 
233,  237;  in  Romeo  and 
Juliet,  40,  153. 

Dramatic  situation,  in  Ham- 
let, 33-4,  36,  37,  40-3,  57, 
58;  in  Lear,  251-7;  in 


Merchant  of  Venice,  139- 
142,  143;  in  Othello,  179- 
181,  184,  185,  187.  188- 
192. 

Dry  den,  John,  175. 

Duel,     The     (Hamlet 
Laertes),     112-3,     114- 
117. 

Duty,  Hamlet  and,  46,  54-( 
73,  82,  83,  93,   103, 
120.       Cf.    also    Hamld 
Task  of. 

Edgar,  265-6,  274,  284,  285. 
Edinburgh      Review,      Tin 

174. 
Edmund,    265-6,    279,    28( 

284. 
Election   of    King   in    D< 

mark,  36,  51,  72,  74,  119- 
Elizabethan,    age,    22,    135, 

250,  253;  drama,  16,  177, 

180,  254-5;  England,  29; 

mind,  130,  146,  198,  205, 

209,  250;  Shakespeare  an. 

11,     15,     16,     129,     255 

stage,  198. 
Emilia,  194,  195,  211-2,  221, 

224,  235. 
England,    29,    90,    98,    103, 

106,    108,   110,   112,   123, 

131-2. 
English    history,    Plays    on, 

124,  125,  254. 
English  law,  159,  160,  l6l; 

162,  163.     Cf.  also  Law. 
Equity,  Mercy  as,  162,  163. 


Index 


307 


Cf.      also      Justice      and 

Mercy. 

Essays  by  a  Society  of  Gen- 
tlemen at  Exeter,  134, 

216. 
Ethics,   97,    146,    149,    158, 

166.    Cf.  also  Morality. 
Evil,   Effect  of,   50-4,   254, 

275,  277,  286. 
"External  Relations  of  the 

Persons,"  in  Hamlet,  37- 

40. 

Fate,  55,  58,  87,  115,  123, 
125,  141,  151,  180,  235; 
Moral  character  of,  125, 
141. 

Father,  Hamlet  and  his,  46, 
49,  53-4,  54-7,  58,  59,  61, 
74,  75,  81,  105,  120;  Por- 
tia and  her,  142,  151-2, 
153.  Cf.  also  Cordelia 
and  Lear;  Polonius  and 
Laertes ;  Polonius  and 
Ophelia. 

Father's  tragedy,  Lear  as  a, 
249,  266. 

Favoritism,  of  Lear,  251. 
252,  257-8,  261 ;  of  Othel- 
lo, 188,  190,  191,  193, 
198. 

Final  scenes.  Cf.  Closing 
scenes. 

First  scenes.  Cf.  Opening 
scenes. 

Folio  (First),  of  Hamlet, 
40;  of  Lear,  249. 


Fool,  in  Lear,  268,  270,  271. 

Fortinbras,  as  a  menace  to 
Denmark,  42,  46,  47,  54, 
57,58,  62%,  76,  77,  78,  79; 
as  next  king,  36,  38,  118- 
119,  120,  126;  as  a  temp- 
tation to  Hamlet,  108-9, 
110,  120;  inspired  by  the 
weakness  of  Claudius,  47, 
48,  50,  57;  once  more, 
108-111;  Shakespeare's 
addition  to  the  story,  39, 
78 ;  The  ambitions  of,  33, 
42,  45,  48,  109,  H9;  The 
part  of,  in  the  play,  37, 
38-9,  49,  50,  118-9,  120, 
126. 

France,  The  King  of,  264, 
275,  285. 

Frank,  Henry,  60. 

Fratricide  Punished.  Cf. 
German  play  of  Hamlet. 

Friends,  Antonio's,  147; 
Claudius's,  116;  Hamlet's, 
34-6,  41,  46,  118;  Othel- 
lo's 235;  Shylock's,  144, 
147. 

Furness,  H.  H.,  134,  161. 

Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  277- 
German    play    of    Hamlet, 

The,    30,    78,    102,    103, 

125. 

Gertrude.     Cf.  Queen. 
Gervinus,  G.  G.,  266. 
Ghost,  The,  Appears  first  to 

Hamlet's   friends,   33-35 ; 


308 


Index 


Hamlet  and,  33-4,  35,  43- 
44,  54-7,  -59,  67,  72,  73, 
83,  96,  99,  104;  in  armor, 
44-46;  invisible  to  the 
queen,  105;  The  dramatic 
function  of,  25,  40-1,  43, 
44-6,  51,  54-7,  59,  72,  73, 
77,  117. 

Gloucester.  Cf.  Underplot 
in  Lear. 

Goethe-Coleridge  theory  of 
Hamlet.  Cf.  Goethe,  and 
Coleridge. 

Goethe,  J.  W.,  23-5,  26,  37, 
38,  80,  122,203. 

Goneril  and  Regan,  252, 
258,  259,  260,  261,  262, 
264,  265,  266,  267,  268, 
269,  270,  271,  279,  280. 

Gonzago,    The    Murder    of, 

.   95,  99. 

Gosson,  Stephen,  137. 

Guildenstern.  Cf.  Rosen- 
crantz  and  Guildenstern. 

Hadow,  W.   H.,  213. 

Hamlet,  27,  60,  139,  187, 
225 ;  Interpretation  of, 
21-3;  Theories  of,  23-26; 
The  sources  and,  28-34. 
63. 

Hamlet,  Ability  of,  80,  83, 
108;  a  deliverer,  31,  32, 
77,  78,  111;  and  his 
mother,  35,  56,  71,  103-7, 
295-8;  and  the  king,  25, 
26,  50,  51,  52,  53,  56,  58, 


59,  62-3,  64,  71-2,  75,  76, 
77,  80-4,  88,  98-9,  100-3, 
108,  115,  116-7;  and 
Ophelia,  87,  91-5;  an 
ideal  prince,  49,  57,  124- 
126;  Character  of,  21-2, 
31,  52,  73,  76,  77,  80,  97- 
99,  104,  114,  115,  121-4, 
208;  Impetuosity  of,  79, 
80,  98,  104,  114,  115; 
Melancholy  of,  35,  58,  71, 
72,  73-6,  81,  95;  Procras- 
tination of,  23,  24,  79,  80, 
^  108;  Purposes_  £f^jpoliti- 
1  cal,  26,  62, "82,.  110,  111; 
Relation  to  the  play,  32- 
34,79,  82,96,  117-8,  120; 
Religious  spirit  of,  102, 
103,  123;  Task  of,  25-6, 
27,  51,  56,  57-62,  72,  76, 
77,  78,  83,  117,  120,  123. 
Cf.  also  "Antic  disposi- 
tion"; Avenger;  Banish- 
ment; Death;  Duel; Duty; 
Father ;  Fojr.tinbras; 
Ghost^  \Hero  \  Humor ; 
^Tdeal^j)  Laertes ;  Mad- 
ness ;  Morality ;  Motive ; 
Patriot;  Peace;  Polonius; 
Popularity ;  Return; 
Schoolfellows ;  Secrecy ; 
Self-restraint;  Self-sacri- 
fice; Silence;  "Transfor- 
mation." 

Hamlet,  The  Elder,  31,39, 40, 
42,  45,  46-9,  50,  54-7,  58, 
59,  72,  74,  76,  107,  120. 


Index 


Henry   the   Fifth,    79,    124, 

125,  254. 

Heraud,  J.  A.,  219,  234. 
Herford,   C.    H.,   204,   207, 

223,  224,  281. 
He^o,    Elder    Hamlet   as    a, 

48-9;  Hamlet^a^ljjjtk. 

Jl-JL  7£  iio-n,  120-i.t. 

124,  125;  Passion  and 
deed  7>?7~the  mainspring 
of  dramatic  action,  33-4, 
53,  54-6,  58,  62,  139,  142, 
143,  179-181,  187-8,  193, 
240,  251-2. 

Hodell,  C.  W.,  33,  189- 

Holinshed,  277. 

Holmes,  Judge  Nathaniel, 
161-3,  166-7. 

Horatio,  and  the  ghost,  43- 
44 ;  as  friend  of  Hamlet, 
34,  35,  41,  52,  60,  6l,  63, 
67-8,  82,  84,  98,  99,  100, 
112,  113,  114,  116,  117- 
118-120;  Character  of, 
46,  118;  Knowledge  of 
Denmark,  36,  41,  42,  44, 
45,  48,  54,  109;  Relation 
to  the  play,  38,  60,  6l,  63, 
98,  109,  112,  116,  117-18, 
119,  120,  293-5. 

Horn,    Franz,    252. 

Humor,  Hamlet's,  65-71. 

Hunter,  John,  185,  186. 

lago,  and  Cassio,  208,  214, 
218,  220,  224,  230,  231, 
239;  and  Roderigo,  188, 


194,  195,  196,  211,  217, 
218,  219,  226,  231;  and 
the  lieutenancy,  188,  221, 
230,  239;  Character  of, 
178,  187,  188-9,  192,  211, 
213,  215,  216-7,  231,  233, 
240;  Motives  of,  178,  194, 
211,  216-7;  Plans  of,  191, 
194,  216,  217,  220,  224. 
Cf.  Desdemona  and  lago; 
Othello  and  lago. 

Idealist,  Hamlet  an,J)7,  123^ 
124;  Shakespeare  an,  97- 

IdleTToolish),  63,  267. 

Imogen,  201,  233. 

Insanity.     Cf.  Madness. 

Interest  on  money,  149,  150, 
164,  165. 

Interpretation,  of  Shake- 
speare, 11-17,  21-3,  28, 
29,  174-5,  184.  Cf.  also 
Criticism. 

Intrigue,  in  Othello,  178, 
181,221-2,223,239. 

Irving,  H.  B.,  87. 

Jamieson,  Mrs.,  262. 

Jessica,  140,  148,  153,  168, 
169,  201. 

Jews,  as  comic  characters, 
131,  132;  as  money-lend- 
ers, 132,  137,  138,  143, 
144,  149,  166;  Conflict  of, 
with  Christians,  130,  133, 
138,  140,  143-5,  147,  149, 
150,  153-8,  163-6;  in 
England,  131-2,  135;  in 


310 


Index 


the  drama,  130,  131,  133- 
134,  137;  Shakespeare 
and  the,  130,  132-3,  134-5, 
137,  138,  139,  147,  148, 
164;  The  people  and  the, 
130,  131,  132-3,  135,  147. 

Johnson,  Samuel,  14,  176, 
177,  248,  280. 

Johnson,  C.  F.,  178. 

Jonson,  Ben,  12,  175. 

Julius  CoKsar,  61,  254;  Ju- 
lius Caesar,  193,  227. 

Justice  and  Mercy,  149,  157, 
158,  161-3,  165. 

Kean,  Edmund,  134. 

Kent,  251,  263,  265,  267-8, 
270,  275,  276,  282. 

King,  Fortinbras  as  Next, 
118-119-  Cf.  Claudius, 
and  Lear. 

King  Lear,  27,  173,  250, 
251,  254-5;  Christianity 
of,  285-7;  Criticism  of, 
248,  250,  252,  254,  256, 
261,  282,  285-6,  287;  The 
old  play  of,  264;  The 
theme  of,  248-9,  251,  254, 
273.  Cf.  also  Lear. 

Klein-Werder  theory  of 
Hamlet.  Cf.  Werder. 

Kreyssig,  F.,  256. 

Kyd's  Hamlet,  24,  29,  30, 
39- 

Laertes,  and  Claudius,  77; 
84,  103,  111-2,  116,  117; 


and  Hamlet,  80,  87-8,  92, 
112-114,  114-16,  116-17; 
and  Ophelia,  91,  92,  112; 
and  Poloflius,  85-6,  113; 
Character  of,  76,  85,  92, 
115,  116;  Rebellion  of, 
62,  110,  111,  113,  120. 

Lamb,  Charles,  206. 

Lansdowne,  Viscount,  138. 

Latham,  R.  G.,  31. 

Law,  in  Merchant  of  Venice, 
154,  157,  158,  159,  160, 
161,  162,  163,  164,  166. 
Cf.  also  English  law. 

Lear,  and  attendants,  267-8 ; 
and  daughters,  248,  249, 
251,  252,  253,  256,  257, 
258,  259,  260,  261,  262, 
263^  264,  265,  266,  267, 

268,  269,  270,  271,  272, 
274,   275,  276,  277,  278, 
279,   280,  281,  282,   283, 
285,    287;    Character    of, 
173,  253,  257,  259,  265, 

269,  270,  276-7,  278,  279; 
Division  of  his  kingdom, 
251,  252-3,  257,  258,  271- 
272;  Egoism  of,  253,  254, 
256,  257,  259,  270,  273, 
278,  279;  Motive  of,  253, 
258,260,263,271-2;  Pride 
of,  270,  272,  276-7,  278; 
Vanity  of,  257,  260,  265, 
272,    273,    284.    Cf.    also 
Cordelia  and  Lear;  King 
Lear;   Madness. 

Lennox,   Mrs.,   272. 


Index 


311 


Lewis,  C.  M.,  21,  24. 

Lloyd,  W.  W.,  234-5,  262. 

Lopez,  Dr.,  135. 

Lorenzo,  153,  168,  169,  201. 

Love,  as  equality,  198,  206, 
279;  Function  of,  40,  138, 
142,  153,  168,  169;  in 
Hamlet,  91-2,  94-5,  105; 
in  Merchant  of  Venice, 
40,  138,  141,  153,  167, 
168;  in  Othello,  203,  204, 
218-19;  Value  of,  142, 
156,  168,  202,  239,  279. 

Lunacy.     Cf.  Madness. 

Macaulay,  T.  B.,  213. 

Macbeth,  51,  254,  275; 
Macbeth,  43,  51,  213,  21 6, 
275. 

Machiavellian  villain,  lago 
a  ?  215. 

Madness,  in  drama,  65 ;  of 
Hamlet  (feigned),  62-5, 
65-6,  70-1,  106,  107;  of 
Lear,  65,271,272-3,  274; 
of  Ophelia,  112.  Cf.  also 
"Antic  disposition." 

Marcellus,  41-2,  43,  44,  45, 
46,  53. 

Marlowe,  12;  Doctor  Faus- 
tus,  102;  Jew  of  Malta 
(Barabas),  131,  133,  145, 
147,  205. 

Marriage,  of  Jessica  and 
Lorenzo,  153,  168,  169; 
of  Othello  and  Desdemo- 
na,  184,  198,  202,  205-6, 


208-9,  210,  211,  222,  223, 
234,  235,  242;  of  Queen 
and  Claudius,  35,  72,  74, 
104.  Cf.  also  Race. 

Mauritania,  as  Othello's  na- 
tive country,  185-6,  229, 
242. 

Medieval,  Christian,  Anto- 
nio as,  145;  Jew,  Shy  lock 
as,  145,  148. 

Merchant  of  Venice,  40, 
137,  139,  217,  225;  and 
the  sources,  30,  136-8; 
Shakespeare's  art  in,  40, 
132,  134,  136,  137,  138, 
139,  141,  225;  The  Moor 
in,  152,  205;  Theme  of, 
137,  142,  143,  144,  167. 

Mercy  and  Justice.  Cf.  Jus- 
tice and  Mercy;  and 
Equity. 

Miracle  plays,  11. 

Mirror  for  Magistrates, 
The,  277- 

Modern,  Making  Shake- 
speare, 13,  15,  129-130, 
134,  135,  187. 

Moor,  Othello  as  a,  185-6, 
199,  207,  229,  240>  241, 
242 ;  The,  in  Merchant  of 
Venice,  152,  205;  The,  in 
Titus  Andronicus,  205. 

Moral  code,  of  Antonio,  145, 
166,  167;  of  Shylock,  148, 
157,  158,  166. 

Morality,  in  the  plays:  in 
Hamlet,  32,  40,  56,  57, 


312 


Index 


60,  61,  74,  75,  76,  82,  97, 
116-7,  120,  125;  in  Lear, 
254,  256,  257,  268,  272-3, 
274,  275,  276,  277,  279, 
280,  283,  284,  285,  286, 
287;  in  Merchant  of  Ven- 
ice, 149,  155,  157,  158, 
166;  in  Othello,  174-5, 
176,  177,  180,  181,  183, 
207,  222,  230,  240-1,  243. 
Cf.  also  Ethics. 

Morality,  of  Shakespeare's 
heroes:  Hamlet,  31,32,52, 
53,  56,  57,  61,  62,  74,  75, 
76,  77,  82,  97,  101,  103, 
106,  115,  118,  122,  123, 
124,  125. 

,  Lack  of,  in  Antonio, 

145,  157;    in    Lear,    249, 
254,  268,  269,  273,  275; 
in  Othello,  207,  208,  240, 
241,  243;  in  Shylock,  145, 

146,  147,  157,  158-9. 
Morality  plays,   11. 
Moral    principles,    in    Trial 

Scene,  155,  157- 

Moral  redemption,  in  Lear, 
65,  276,  278,  279. 

Morocco,  The  Prince  of, 
152,  205. 

Motive  of,  Hamlet,  34,  36, 
39,  40,  58;  lago,  178,  194, 
211,  216-17;  Lear,  253, 
258,  260,  263,  271-2; 
Othello,  178,  243;  Shy- 
lock,  156. 

Moulton,  R.  G.,  149,  161. 


Mouse-trap,  The,  67,  93,  98- 

99,  100. 
Murder    of    Gonzago,    The, 

95,  99. 

Murray,  J.  Clark,  146. 
Mystery    of    Life,    The,    in 

Hamlet,  26-28. 

Naming  of  the  plays.  Cf. 
Titles. 

Narrative,  in  Morality 
plays,  11;  in  Marlowe, 
12;  in  Shakespeare,  13- 
14,  15,  16,  36,  213,  238-9, 
247,  285.  Cf.  also  Plots, 
and  Story. 

National  hero,  Elder  Ham- 
let as  a,  48;  Hamlet  as  a, 
30-2,60,76-8,118-19,124. 

Nationalism,  The  new,  79, 
110;  The  old,  79- 

Nature  and  man,  42,  271, 
274. 

Negro,    Othello    a,    209- 

Nemesis.   Cf.    Retribution. 

Nerissa,  139,  142,  151,  152. 

Norway.  Cf.  Denmark  and 
Norway. 

Oechelhauser,   Wilhelm,   24. 

Opening  scenes,  Importance 
of,  33,  139,  189,  191; 
Hamlet,  32-4,  36,  37-9, 
40-3,  291-3;  Lear,  251- 
253;  Merchant  of  Venice, 
138-9,  139-143;  Othello, 
187-194. 


Index 


813 


Ophelia,  64,  68,  72-3,  85,  86,1 
87,  91-5,98,99,  112,  113, 
114. 

Opportunity  of  the  Players, 
The,  95-6. 

Othello,  173,  174,  175,  178, 
182,  185,  188,  189,  193, 
215,  227,  237-9;  Theme 
of,  185,  186,  187,  193, 
242. 

Othello  and  Brabantio,  195. 
197,  198,  200,  203,  235-6, 
238 ;  and  Emilia,  211;  and 
lago,  178-9,  180-1,  186- 
196,  208,  212,  213,  214, 
215,  216,  224,  225,  226, 

227,  228,   229,  235,  236, 

239,  240;    Barbarism  of, 
194,  196,   199,  207,  208, 
209,  212,  217,  226,  227, 

228,  231,   232,   238,   240, 
241,  242,  243;  Character 
of,    173,    190,    196,    197, 
199,   207,   208,  209,  225, 
226,   227,  228,  235,  236, 

240,  241,    243;    Jealousy 
of,    219,    229;    Pride    of, 
219,  229,  230,  241;  Rela- 
tion   of,    to    the    tragedy, 
184,   187,   189,   193,   198, 
199,  229,  230,  232,  236-7, 
243.        Cf.      also      Color 
(Othello's) ;    and    Desde- 
mona  and  Othello. 

,  compared  to,  Antony, 

236;  Hamlet,  208;  Julius 
Caesar,  227;  Leontes,  229- 


Passion,  in  tragedy,  40,  97, 
180,  215,  222,  223,  236, 
243,  247,  264,  274-5. 

Patriot,  Elder  Hamlet  as  a, 
40,  46,  47;  Hamlet  as  a, 
60,  61,  62,  77,  79,  118, 
124,  125. 

Peace,  Elder  Hamlet  and, 
42,  48;  Hamlet  and, 
78-80,  110,  111,  119,  120, 
125-6.  Cf.  also  Shake- 
speare. 

Play,  The,  and  the  Sources, 
(Hamlet),  28-32;  and  the 
Prince,  32-4. 

Players,  The,  in  Hamlet,  80, 
83;  The  Opportunity  of, 
95-6;  Hamlet's  Advice  to, 
96-7. 

Plots,  Shakespeare's,  12,  13, 
14,  46-7,  139-140,  178-9, 
185,  187,  247,  248,  249, 
251-3.  Cf.  also  Narrative, 
and  Story. 

Poel,  William,  130,  145. 

"Poetic  Justice"  in  Shake- 
speare, 14,  176,  177,  259, 
280,  281-2,285,  287-  Cf. 
also  Morality. 

Polonius,  and  Hamlet,  64, 
68,  69,  70,  84-5,  87,  88-9, 
90,92,  103,  104,  107,114; 
and  Laertes,  85-6,  113; 
and  Ophelia,  86,  87,  92, 
91;  and  the  play,  64,  84, 
96;  Character  of,  84-5, 
86,  87,  89,  90,  94,  122; 


314 


Index 


Family,    The,    84-6.    Cf. 

also    Claudius    and    Polo- 

nius. 
Popularity    of    Hamlet,    22, 

62,  71,  74,  77,  90,  107-8, 

110,  113. 
Portia,   138,   139,   140,   141. 

142,   143,    149,    151,   152, 

153,   156,   157,   158,   160, 

161,  163,  167,  168,  169, 

205,  217. 

Pound  of  Flesh  Story,  The, 

137,  140,  143,   154. 
Prayer,  The  Christian,  156; 

The  King  at,  100-3. 
Pride,   Cordelia's   260,   261, 

262,     275,     276-7,     278; 

Lear's    270,    272,    276-7; 

278;   Othello's,  219,  229, 

230,  241. 
Prince,    The    Play    and   the 

(Hamlet),  32-4. 
Providence    (God),   46,    73, 

121,  123,  124,284,286. 
Purgatory,  102,  103. 

Quarto,  of  Hamlet,  40. 
Queen,  The  (Gertrude),  35. 

56,58,59,91,95,98,103- 

107,  117,  295-8. 
Quinlan,  M.  A.,  176. 

Race,  Conflicts  of,  143,  200, 

206,  210,  225,   226,   242. 
Cf.  also  Marriage. 

Raleigh,    Sir    Walter,    169, 
181,  221,  222,  233,  281-2. 


Rapp,  Moriz,  121. 

Ray,  I.,  272. 

Rebellion,  of  Fortinbras,  41, 
42,  48,  50,  54,  57,  76,  77, 
78;  of  Laertes,  77,  110, 
111,  120. 

Reconciliation,  Shylock's 
pretence  of,  153,  158,  164, 
166;  of  Lear  and  Corde- 
lia, 275-9- 

Redemption,  in  Lear,  274-5, 
278,  279,  284,  286,  287. 

Religion,  in  Hamlet,  102, 
103,  123,  124;  in  Lear, 
286-8;  in  Merchant  of 
Venice,  144,  146,  148, 
149,  154-5,  166. 

Remorse,  of  Claudius,  100; 
of  Lear,  276-7,  278;  of 
Othello,  236,  238. 

Retribution,  in  Hamlet,  87- 
88,90-1,  104,115-16,117; 
in  Lear,  274,  280,  283, 
285 ;  in  Merchant  of  Ven- 
ice, 166;  in  Othello,  178, 
182,  184,  232,  236,  238, 
239. 

Return.  Hamlet's,  112, 
113-14. 

Revenge,  in  Hamlet,  25,  29, 
30,  31,  34,  46,  55,  57-62, 
72,  76,  78,  79;  in  Mer- 
chant of  Venice,  144,  151, 
156;  in  Othello,  191,  194, 
215,  216-18,  232.  Cf. 
also  Avenger. 

Reynaldo,  85,  86. 


Index 


315 


Richardson,  William,  101. 
Richard  the  Third,  125. 
Roderigo,     188,     194,     195, 

196,  211,  217,   218,  219, 

220,  226,  231. 
Romeo   and   Juliet,   40,    63, 

142,  153,  225;  Romeo  and 

Juliet,    142,    183-4,    201, 

202,  204,  239. 
Rose,  Edward,  233. 
Rosecrantz      and      Guilden- 

stern,  53,  63,  69,  81,  88- 

91,  106-7,  108,  112. 
Rymer,  Thomas,  176,  177. 

Sanctuary,     The     right    of, 

102. 
Sanity,   of  Hamlet.   63,  64, 

65,  66,  70;  of  Lear,  re- 
stored, 276. 
Saxo    Grammaticus    (Histo- 

ria   Danica),   30,    31,   49, 

120,  125. 
Schlegel,  A.  W.,  187,  207-8, 

249-250,  271. 
Schmidt,  Alexander,  63. 
School-fellows,        Hamlet's, 

88-91. 

Secrecy,  Hamlet's,  34-6,  6l. 
Self-restraint,  Hamlet's,  24, 

31-2,  49,  56,  57,  77,  79, 

80,  93,  102,  105-6,  125. 
Self-sacrifice,     H  a  m  1  e  t's, 

118-19,   120,   124;  Lear's 

pretence  of,  256. 
Shakespeare,     a     dramatist 

not  an  historian,  255;  an 


Elizabethan,  11,  15,  16, 
\129,  255;  and  Christian- 
ity, 149,  157-8,  164,  285- 
87;  and  his  age,  129,  132, 
135,  136,  147,  250,  255; 
and  Homer,  288;  and  re- 
ligion, 126,  147,  287;  Ar- 
tistic ideals  of,  96-7 ; 
Character  and  destiny  in, 
14,  233,  283;  Character 
in  drama  of,  12 ;  Character 
studies,  13;  Children  in, 
260,  262;  Comedy  and 
tragedy  in,  97;  Comments 
on  plays,  194-5;  con- 
scious, 187;  Criticism 
gaining  confidence  in, 
288;  Dramatic  method  of, 
137,  184-5,  225;  Dramatic 
purpose,  1 75 ;  Ethics  of, 
149,  158;  Ghosts  in,  43; 
Historical  plays  of,  124, 
125;  Humanity  of,  147; 
Ideal  king,  49,  79,  254; 
Ideal  prince,  57,  124-6; 
Idealism  of,  97;  Insight 
of,  155,  281;  Interpreta- 
tion of,  11-17,  28,  29; 
Judgment  of,  248,  281, 
289;  Life,  not  a  mere 
portrayer  of,  65,  250;, 
Mind  of,  136,  255;  Moral 
dramatist,  40,  182,  183, 
253,  272-3,  281,  283, 
284;  Moral  faith  of, 
284;  Passion,  Experi- 
ments with,  222-3,  254; 


316 


Index 


Patriotism  of,  278;  Philo- 
sophical thinker,  282 ; 
Supremacy  of,  29,  77, 
180,  206,  281,  283,  285; 
Teacher,  288;  Tolerance, 
131,  132,  133,  135,  136. 

Shakespeare's  opinions;  Im- 
portance of,  179;  Absolu- 
tism, 253-6,  257,  268, 
273;  Acting,  96-7;  Civili- 
zation, 240,  241,  242; 
Drama,  96-7;  Favoritism, 
190,  191,  193,  198,  252; 
Hero,  48-9,  76-8,  79; 
Husband,  Choice  of,  201- 
202;  Judaism,  132,  133, 
157;  Kings,  253-4;  Life, 
14,  28,  65,  250,  287,  288; 
Love,  40,  168,  169,  279; 
Man  and  the  world,  180; 
Peace  and  war,  41-2,  62, 
78,  110,  120,  125,  193; 
Warriors,  119,  193,  199, 
207. 

Shylock,  and  Antonio;  Cf. 
Antonio  and  Shylock ; 
and  Jessica,  140,  148; 
and  the  Bond,  140, 

143,  150-1,      154,     156, 
160,    161;    and   the   play, 
130,   134,   137,   138,   139, 
144;   as   a   comic   person- 
age, 131,  132;  as  a  Jew, 
130,    132,   133,    146,    148, 
149,  164;  The  attitude  of, 
towards    Christians,    140, 

144,  149,   150,   153,   154; 


The  attitude  of  others  to- 
wards 131,  132,  133,  134, 
135,  136,  137,  138,  147, 
164-5;  The  Character  of, 
132,  133,  144,  146,  147, 
148,  156;  The  Motive  of, 
144,  151,  154,  155,  156, 
165;  The  tragedy  of,  131. 

Silence,  Hamlet's,  34-6,  61. 

Snider,  D.  J.,  204,  234,  251, 
254,  256,  261. 

Social  forces,  179-180,  183- 
184. 

Sources,  Shakespeare's  use 
of,  16,  29-30;  Hamlet, 
26;  28-32,  39;  Lear,  248- 
9,  277;  Merchant  of  Ven- 
ice, 136-8;  Othello,  194, 
195,  206,  225,  237-9, 
242. 

Spenser,  Edmund,  277. 

Stage  directions,  87,  102, 
205. 

Staging  of  First  Scene  of 
Hamlet,  291-3. 

Stedefeld,  G.   F.,   121,   122. 

Stoll,  E.  E.,  132,  146,  180, 
181-2,  188,  215. 

Story,  in  Shakespeare,  12, 
13,  29-30,  39,  60,  130, 
137,  169,  247,  255,  281, 
282.  Cf.  Narrative,  and 
Plot. 

Swinburne,  A.  C.,  287. 

Tate,  Nahum,  284-5. 
Taylor,  A.  E.,  286. 


Index 


317 


Ten  Brink,  B.,  164. 

Tennyson,  Lord,  207,  219- 

Text,  of  Shakespeare,  15, 
16,  28-9. 

Theories  of  Hamlet,  23-6. 

Thorndike,  A.  H.,  60. 

Title,  and  theme,  of  Lear, 
248-9,  251;  Merchant  of 
Venice,  137-8,  139,  141, 
142;  Othello,  185,  186, 
187,  193,  236,  242. 

Titus  Andronicus,  The 
Moor  in  (Aaron),  205. 

Tragedy,  in  Shakespeare, 
(JO,  66,  67,  70,  97,  122, 
141,  206,  209,  222,  223, 
236-7,  240,  241,  264,  272- 
273,  281,  284. 

Traitors,  in  Shakespeare, 
88,  90,  91,  93,  94,  115. 

"Transformation,  Ham- 

let's," 71-3,  74,  99. 

Tree,  Sir  Herbert,  66,  67, 
70. 

Trench,  W.  F.,  99. 

Trial  Scene,  in  Merchant  of 


Venice,    138,    140,    154-9, 

160,  167. 

Ulrici,    Hermann,    24,    121, 

221-2,  258. 
Unmasking     of     the     King, 

116-17. 
Underplot,     in    Lear,     247, 

249-50,    251,   265-6,   268, 

284,  285. 
Usury.  Cf.  Interest. 

Vengeance.   Cf.   Revenge. 
Venice,   143,  154,  158,  159, 

161,  166,  185,   186,  193, 
194-5. 

Villain.  Cf.  Claudius,  lago, 
etc. 

Walters,  J.  Cuming,  135. 
Ward,  A.  W.,  135. 
Werder,    Karl,    on   Hamlet, 

25-6,  49,  57,  61/79,  82, 

100. 

Wilson,  John,  206. 
Winter's     Tale,     The,    229, 

281. 
Wittenberg,  38,  52,  81,  122. 


o 


BINDING  SEwi,  JAN  3  1   1968 


PR  Crawford,  Alexander  Wellington 

2976  Hamlet,  and  ideal  prince 

C73 
cop.  2 


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