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 7 
 
HAMLET, M IDEAL PEINCE 
 
 AND OTHER ESSAYS IN 
 
 SHAKESPEAREAN 
 INTERPRETATION 
 
 Hamlet; Merchant of Venice; Othello; King Lear 
 
 BY 
 ALEXANDER W. CRAWFORD, 
 
 M.A. (Toronto), Pn.Df (Cornbu,).» 
 
 PBOFESSOB OF ENGLISH IN THE UNIVEBBITT OF MANITOBA, 
 AUTHOR OF "the PHILOSOPHY OF F. H. JACOBI." 
 
 BOSTON: RICHARD G. BADGER 
 
 TORONTO:. THE COPP CLARK CO., LIMITED 
 
 Uo 
 
 C^ 
 
COFYBIGHT, 1916, BT BlCHABD G. BaDOSB 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 C^'6 1 
 
 Made in the United States of America 
 
 The Gorham Press, Boston; U. S. A. 
 
TO THE MEMOHT OF 
 THE LATE 
 
 PROFESSOR HIRAM CORSON, M.A., LL.D., Litt.D. 
 
 OF COBNELL TJNIVEBSITT, 
 
 WHO FIBBT TAUGHT ME THAT THEBE ARE 
 
 MOBE THINOS IN — SHAKESPBABB 
 
 THAN ABE DBEAMT OF IN OtIB PBILOBOPHT. 
 
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 the 
 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. 
 
jCONTENTS 
 
 Chapter I. page 
 
 Introductobt — ^The Interpretation of Shakespeare 11 
 
 Chapteb II. 
 
 Hamlet, an Ideal Frince 21 
 
 CSABTEB ni. 
 
 The Merchant of Venice, or Shakespeare's Christian and Jew . 129 
 
 Chapteb IV. 
 Othello: The Tragedy of a Moor in Venice 173 
 
 Chapteb V. 
 King Lear: A Tragedy of Despotism 247 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 Note A. The Staging of the First Scene of Bamlet .... 291 
 
 Note B. Horatio, and his Fart in the Flay 293 
 
 Note C. Hamlet, III. iv. 122-130 295 
 
 Note D. Othello's Color, and its Dramatic Significance . . . 298 
 
 Index : " ... 303 
 
INTRODUCTORY 
 
 « 
 
 TH£ INTSaPKETATION OF SHAKESF£AS£ 
 
HAMLET, AN IDEAL PRINCE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 INTRODUCTORY 
 
 THE INTEB.PK.ETATION 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 
 
12 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 seldonl 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 
 his stories to suit them, Shakespeare seems first to have 
 
Interpretation of Shakespeare 13 
 
 selected his narratives, and then with consummate skill 
 to have developed his characters. 
 
 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 story 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 is the plot that gives character to his persons of 
 the drama, not the persons to the plot. There is prob- 
 ably no turn of plot or development of 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 assinne 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. 
 
 ni 
 
 It is high time for us to permit Shakespeare to be 
 the author of his own dramas, and to regard him as 
 
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 he meant and meant what he said, and grant him 
 the privilege of saying, "What I have written I have 
 written." ^ 
 
 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 
 
 ^ 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 Prvnce 
 
 what is mystical or inysterious 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. But the playg 
 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 words. 
 
HAMLET: 
 
 AN IDEAI- PKINCE 
 
CHAPTER II 
 HAMLET: 
 
 AN IDEAL PKINCE 
 
 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 not a great character. Critics have said that it is 
 an inconsistent and rambling play, and the Prince a 
 
 ^The Oenesig of Hamlet, by Charlton M. Lewis, p. 20. New 
 York, Henry Holt & Co., 1907. 
 
 21 
 
22 Hamlet, cm 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 one of the most popular of Shakespeare's 
 plays in the 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. 
 These two great critics have made much of Hamlet's 
 delay in carrying out the injunctions of the ghost, 
 and have attributed it to a certain irresoluteness of 
 character. They have said that the difficulties were all 
 internal, and claim that Hamlet is too deficient of will 
 or too overbalanced of mind to carry any plans into 
 
 ^ Introchiction to Shakespeare, by Hiram Corson, p. 213. Boston, 
 D. C. Heath & Co. 
 
84 Hamlet, cm Ideal Prince 
 
 execution. 
 
 Ulrici was probably the first to repudiate such 
 inherent deficiencies in the character of the Prince.-*^ 
 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 oiF mind and heart." " Professor Bradley 
 says he is "a heroic, terrible figure. He would have 
 been formidable to Othello or Macbeth." ^ 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 
 condemn Hamlet as a weakling; they are with him aU 
 the time." * 
 
 The attempts to make it appear that Hamlet is in- 
 capable, that he is guilty of indecision and procrastina- 
 tion, have not satisfied the pubHc any better than the 
 critics. In the early part of the play he seems to them 
 exceedingly forceful and capable of almost anything. 
 The play impresses audiences with the idea that he is 
 laboring under some sort of restraint. Hamlet does 
 not have to urge himself forward, but to hold himself 
 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 
 
 ' Of. Furness, Variorum Hamlet, Vol. II, pp. 393-3. 
 ' Oechelhauser, English trans, in Furness, II., p. 341. 
 ' Shaketpearean Tragedy, pp. 102-3. London, Snd edition, 
 I90S. 
 * The Oenetit of Hamlet, pp. 88, 93, 96. 
 
Havdet 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 Klein-Werder theory. 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 jnternaJj^ and (^glainsjhe^d^ 
 OTde r^to procur e aHequateja>rrobo3ea^oiUi)f th^ yey^a- 
 
 /Kons~of the ffhost. 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 g host, too, had told him not to harm his mother, 
 a nd this v ery greatly hampers JumJjiJJi e--£xecut km^_oiL 
 
 ]|Es-jLa§_kir~ T5~g trifcg:jft g~Ein grw^ 
 time str ^jkingT:he q^ugeni£atti£e&.^ 
 the^Ast'desUsauA-slHHr^ 
 
 Werder does not regard Hamlet's task as the mere 
 killing of the king, but the execution of justice upon 
 the king. He says,, "His task is justly to puhish the 
 murderer of his father . . . and to satisfy the Danes 
 of the righteousness of his action." ^ 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 chancec| 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 
 
 ^The Heart of Bamlet's Mystery, English trans, by Wilder, 
 p. Bi. New Yorl^ 1907. 
 
26 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 
 
 ' more than to take the life of the king. He must bring 
 i him to justice and if possible to confession, that he may 
 j himself appear justified before the people, and before 
 I his own conscience. 
 
 ' 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. Werder does not seem to understand the larger 
 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- 
 
Handet 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 Kimg Lear the same writer expounds 
 his conception of Shakespeare's art in these words : "If 
 life proposes inexplicable riddles, Shakspere's art must 
 propose them also." ^ 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 
 
 ^Shakspere — Bis Mind and Art, by Edward Dowden, 13th 
 ed., London, 1906, p. 136. 
 'Ibid., p. SS8. 
 
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 aifect the general meaning of the 
 play.^ 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 intend«i. 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 ff. 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 tiot 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 the 
 level of thought and passion of aU 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 j 
 material he finds in earlier stories or plays. These, j 
 however, may give us a point of view for the story and j 
 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, but 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 Dardca 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 sense 
 of the word, neither is he either fool or idiot, natural or 
 pretending. On the contrary, he is a warrior of the 
 true Norse type, and a politician and strategist of un- 
 rivalled cunning," ^ He seems, indeed, to be the type 
 of the National Hero, and was in character and con- 
 duct a sort of Danish Prince Arthur. 
 
 In Belleforest, 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 thankful] 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 
 
 Tioo Dissertations on the Hamlet of Samo Oram/rAaticus cmd 
 of Shakespeare, by R. G. Latham, p. 49, London, 1872. 
 
32 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 
 
 any man into danger, and by publishing the same should 
 clean have overthrowne the device, which at this present 
 I have so happily brought to passe." ^ Then, after 
 further reviewing the career and charactier 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 
 
 It appears, then, that in these two earhest 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 nobUity, 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 Harnlet.* The dramatic 
 exposition will prove to give us the right point of view 
 
 * The Hyatorie of Hamblet, English version of 1608, reprinted 
 in Fumess's Variorum Hamlet, II., p. 111. 
 
 'Op. ca., II., pp. 112-3. 
 
 * Op. cit., II., p. 113. 
 
 * Cf. Note A, pp. 291-3, imfra. 
 
Hamlet 83 
 
 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 
 that the play is not 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 the play, 
 though he is the one person upon whom the action of 
 the play turns. We should try, then, first, to under- 
 stand the drama ; and then we may hope to understand 
 the man Hamlet. The Prince is not the play, though 
 he 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,^ 
 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 
 elements have already been introduced into the situa- 
 tion. The condition of afi'airs in Denmark, the rela- 
 tion of Denmark to Norway, and the ambitions of 
 young Prince Fortinbras, are all carefully outlined by 
 the dramatist before Hamlet comes upon the stage. 
 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 
 > Cf. "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 463. 
 
34 Hamlet, an Ideal Prmce 
 
 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. 
 
 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 aU our prying inquisitiveness. He scarcely 
 deigns even to mention his suspicions to himself, and 
 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 
 him. His great grief almost breaks his heart, yet he 
 concludes by reminding himself that he must not speak 
 out, saying, 
 
 "But break my heart, for I must hold my tongue!" 
 
 (I. ii. 1S9.) 
 
 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. 249.) 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- 
 ratio remains his trusty friend without a knowledge of 
 » I. V. 117-8, 133-4, 136, 143. 
 
36 Hamlet, 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 misatisfied." (V. u. 326-7.) 
 
 Then after giving his voice for the election of Fortin- 
 bras as the next king of Denmark, he dies with these 
 words on his lips, "the rest is silence." (V. ii. S45.)' 
 
 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. It is the 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. 
 
 ' Cf. Quotation from Edward Gans, in Furness, Vol. II., p. 293. 
 
Hamlet 37 
 
 The "Earternal Relations of the Persons." 
 
 Largely from the influence and example of Goethe, 
 nearly aU 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 seen to have 
 any significance for the play as a whole. The part of 
 young Fortinbras has in the same manner never been 
 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 
 
38 Handet, cm Ideal Prince 
 
 topics, and they constantly recur to the very end of 
 the play, where finally the crown of Denmark passes 
 to Prince Fortinbras. This fiery young warrior seems 
 always to be hovering over Denmark, like an eagle over 
 its intended prey. He appears directly in the fourth 
 and fifth acts, and is a factor in every act but the third, 
 in which the ghost comes to whet Hamlet's "almost 
 blunted purpose." The dramatist has done everything 
 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 teUs Horatio of his uncle's 
 crime, Horatio counsels him to go to Norway in his 
 company, to secure the afi'ections of the army, and 
 return in warlike force." ^ 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. 
 
 • Wilhehn Meitter. 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 oJSFer 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, cm 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 
 Jidiet, 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 warhke 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 
 
Hamlet 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.^ 
 
 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. 393-S, mfra. 
 
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, saying, "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 was a brave but peaceable man, and that he 
 was "prick'd on by a most emulate pride, dared to 
 the combat," by the elder Fortinbras. The "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. Horatio does not hesitate to 
 connect the coming of 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 expla- 
 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 ghostsj he utilizes the 
 popular conception to render objective what is in the 
 minds of his characters. The ghosts or witches thefT' 
 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 ghost in Handet 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. Horatio hesitates to take 
 ths word of Bernardo and Francisco, and is convinced 
 
44 Hamlet, an Ideal Prmce 
 
 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. 331.) 
 
 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, and Hamlet 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 clear, 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 Uke your father. 
 Armed at point exactly, cap-a-pe." 
 (I. ii. 199-360.) 
 
 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 I all is not well; 
 I doubt some foul play." 
 
 (I. ii. 3S4-S.) 
 
 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, am, 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. 
 
 AU 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- 
 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. As the ghost and 
 Hamlet withdraw for their private interview, Marcellus 
 feels that it is upon the business of the state that the 
 ghost appears, and remarks : 
 
 "Something is rotten in the state of Denmark." (I. iv. 90.) 
 
 To this Horatio replies, "Heaven wiU 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, 
 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 who is the main- 
 spring of all tJie action of the play. It was the desire 
 to gain his crown 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. 
 
 There are 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 the 
 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 
 yoimg 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; 
 
48 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. 53-66.) 
 
 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, 
 who 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. He made no wars, but did not hesi- 
 tate to go to war to defend 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, avid 
 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. Only when he was dead 
 did Norway once 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." ^ 
 
 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. As the father was an ideal king, so is 
 the son an ideal prince, and Fortinbras in the last 
 speech of the play says that if Hamlet had been put 
 on the throne, there is no doubt he would "have prov'd 
 most royally." 
 * The Heart of Hamlet's Mystery, p. 68. 
 
50 Harnlet, an Ideal Prince 
 
 m 
 
 Claudius and the Condition of Denmark. 
 
 The second scene of the play makes it clear that 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 cognizant of 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 worth, . . . 
 . . . hath not fail'd to pester us with message. 
 Importing the surrender of those lands 
 Lost by his father." 
 
 (I. u. 17-34.) 
 
 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 
 supplicating 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 
 
Hartdet 51 
 
 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. The ghost speaks of him as one "whose natu- 
 ral gifts were poor to those of mine!" (I. v. 61-52.) 
 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 kings." 
 
 (III. iv. 96-98.) 
 
 Yet Claudius, though a villain, was capable of quick 
 and 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 
 state under the example and influence of Claudius. 
 Hamlet is conscious of it on his return from the uni- 
 versity, and the king readily admits his dissipations. 
 No doubt Hamlet's sad words about the condition of 
 the world in his first soliloquy are spoken more with 
 reference to Denmark : 
 
 "Fie on't! O fie! 'tis an unweeded garden 
 That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature 
 Possess it merely." 
 
 (I. ii. 135-7.) 
 
52 Hamlet, an Ideal Prmce 
 
 The king had led the way in dissipation and de- 
 bauchery, and in his first interview with Hamlet prom- 
 ises elaborate festivities (I. ii. 121-9). In the same 
 scene Hamlet refers to these habits, and satirically teUs 
 his friend Horatio : "We'll teach you to drink deep ere 
 you depart" (I. ii. 175). 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 
 The 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. 182). 
 
 To the virtuous mind of Hamlet one of the worst 
 features of this debauchery 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 depe us drunkards, and with swinish phrase 
 Soil our addition." 
 
 (I. iv. 17-20.) 
 
 Then h^ moralizes upon the baneful influence of "some 
 vicious mole of nature" that corrupts the whole being, 
 until such men 
 
 "Shall in the general censure take corruption 
 From that particular fault." 
 
 (I. iv. 35-6.) 
 
Handet 63 
 
 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). It is Hamlet, however, 
 with his deep moral nature, who most fully recognizes 
 the king's corrupting influence upon Denmark. After 
 the ghost has revealed to him the matter and the man- 
 ner of his murder, Hamlet at once sees that the crime 
 is not a mere matter between him and Claudius, but 
 that it has engendered a bad condition of affairs in 
 the state and that it is imperative upon him to set 
 himself to the task of reparation : 
 
 "The time is out of joint; — O cursed spite. 
 That ever I was born to set it right! — " 
 (I. V. 189-190.) 
 
 These thoughts are no doubt in Hamlet's mind when 
 Rosencrantz and Guildenstem tell him the only news 
 is "that the world's grown honest." To this he quickly 
 replies that "your news is not true," and goes on to 
 say that "Denmark's a prison," and "one o' the worst," 
 and at any rate "to me it is a prison" (H. ii. 233-246). 
 A little later in his great soliloquy, referring to his 
 grievous troubles and sufferings, he calls them "The 
 slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" (HI. i. 68). 
 No doubt he is thinking not only of the foul murder 
 
54 Handet, cm 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 sp.eak 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. 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 eadi 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." 
 
 (I. iv. 81-6.) 
 
 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 of 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." 
 
 (I. V. 39-31.) 
 
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, 
 Unmlx'd with baser matter; yes, by heaven!" 
 
 (I. V. 98-104.) 
 
 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 mother. 
 
 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. 
 His mission was to restore moral order in Denmark, 
 and not to make matters worse by committing crimes 
 himself. \/Then the ghost said further, "Nor let thy 
 soul contrive against thy mother aught." Hamlet 
 had been too ready to charge the crime to his mother's 
 influence, and now the ghost admonishes him that he 
 is to strike Claudius down without striking Mis 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 aU but impossible to separate their 
 fates. 
 
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 junpose 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- 
 tions 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 slX^^^ 
 ous by the highly complicated circumstances of ^^fe 
 case. These restraints, however, Hamlet freely im- 
 posed upon himself, for he could not bring himself 
 to sacrifice his own moral nature or to do violence 
 to his mother even in so great a cause as the aveng- 
 ing of his father's murder. In Hamlet, then, the dram- 
 atist has portrayed not only a most intellectual but 
 also a most moral character. 
 
 Hamlet's Task of Revenge. 
 
 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 must be seen as the occasion if not the cause of , 
 the incipient revolt of the young Prince of Norway, i 
 and the threatened invasion of Denmark. As the son' 
 of the late king, and as a possible future king him- 
 
58 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 
 
 self, Hamlet must look upon these conditions and this 
 impending invasion with great alarm. His dearest 
 friend, Horatio, thoroughly understands the threat- 
 ening danger, and it must be assumed that Hamlet 
 knows it equally well. The circumstances are so com- 
 plicated and the conditions so disheartening that no 
 wonder Hamlet curses the fate that assigns him the 
 task of setting it right (I. v. 189-190). 
 
 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 
 Hamlet's task. They fail to understand his motive be- 
 cause they have overlooked the dramatic situation. Yet 
 it is these conditions that furnish the element in his 
 motive that has baflSed inquiry, and that explains the 
 whole course of his conduct throughout the play. To 
 understand these fully wiU 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 
 in Hamlet a condition of sadness that is noticed by 
 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 "aU 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 stiU 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. 8S-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. ^Hej&ould 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, - — -.__, 
 
 j "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 once 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, cm 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 .^ 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." ^ 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 
 
 '"The Relations of Hamlet to Contemporary Revenge Plays," 
 by A. H. Thorndike, Publications of the Modern Language Asso- 
 ciation of America, 1902, pp. 125-230; New Series, Vol. X., 
 No. 2. 
 
 ' Frank, The Tragedy of Hamlet, p. 132. Boston, 1910. 
 
jxamiei 61 
 
 unsatisfied." (V. ii. S26-7.) 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 vulgair 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 Caesar, 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 
 wiU 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 Harrdet, 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 BeUeforest, he wiU not 
 involve his countrymen in his undertaking. He wants 
 to strike the king without striking his native land^ "His 
 "taSlcptKe^fore^is^ermfmous, 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 
 destrojer^qf Jjis ,go,yntry.^ """ -—~— 
 
 """Hamlet does not like the task of revenge, and frankly 
 says so. But as a dutiful son and patriotic prince he 
 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 aU 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. 
 
 Hamlet's "Antic Disposition." 
 
 There is much evidence in the play that Hamlet de- 
 liberately feigned fits of madness in order to confuse 
 
Hamlet 65 
 
 and discoiic,ert the king and his attendants. His 
 avowed intention to act "strange or odd" and to "put 
 an antic disposition on" ^ (I. v. 170, 1T2j) 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, Guildenstem, 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 
 isl^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.^ 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, A jjjc 
 But mad in craft." J 
 
 (III. iv. 187-8.) 
 
 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 
 thfl greatness of his dramatic skill. 
 
 *|//. Borneo and Juliet (I. v. 54), where "antic face" means a 
 mask, and also Richard II (III. ii. 162) and Hewy VI (IV, 
 vli. 18). 
 
 •*^f. 8hakesj>ea/re-Lexieon, by Alexander Schmidt, 3rd edition, 
 Beiiin, 1902. 
 
64 Hamlet, cm 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" (IH. 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. 
 
 There need he no doubt, then, that Hamlet's mad- 
 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 
 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.^ 
 
 Hamlet's Hvmior. 
 
 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 
 
 '^Cf. Snider, Shakespeare Commentaries, Tragedies, chapters on 
 Hamlet, pp. 286 ff. St. Louis, 1887. 
 
66 Hamlet, am, 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- 
 ter in all Shakespeare is more evenly balanced, and no ■ 
 mind more capable of seeing things in all their bear- " 
 ings. 
 
 If Hamlet does not really go mad under his. unparal- 
 leled griefs and burdens it is because under all cir- 1 : 
 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 life. 
 As Sir 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 HamZet, 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 
 
 > "Humor in Tragedy," by Sir Herbert Tree. Article in The 
 English Review, November, 1916. In dealing with the present 
 topic I find myself greatly indebted to this lecture by the dis- 
 tinguished actor and critic. 
 
 'Ibid., 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." ^ 
 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: 
 
 Samlet. But what is your affair in Elsinore? ... ' 
 Horatio. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral. 
 HaimUt. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student; 
 
 I think it was to see my mother's wedding. 
 Horatio. Indeed, my lord, it foUow'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 
 
 again 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 
 success of playing and get a share in a company : 
 
 Hamlet. Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers, — if the 
 rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me, — ^with two Provincial 
 
 > "Humor in Tragedy," p. 366. 
 
68 Hamlet, an Ideal Prmce 
 
 roses on my razed shoes, get me a fellowship In a cry of players, 
 sir? 
 Horatio. Half a share. 
 Bamlet. A whole one, I. 
 
 For thou dost know, O Damon dear. 
 
 This realm dismantled was 
 Of Jove himself; and now reigns here 
 A very, very — pajock. 
 Horatio. You might have rhymed. 
 
 (III. ii. 263-373). 
 
 Even in his conversation with Ophelia there is a 
 touch of Hamlet's ironical humor. He slanders him- 
 self, saying: "I could accuse me of such things that 
 it were better my mother had not borne me." Then, 
 after Ophelia's false declaration that her father is "at 
 home, my lord," he falls to railing on women and mar- 
 riage, and says to her: 
 
 "I heard of your paintings, too, well enough; Gtod has given 
 you one face, and you make yourselves another; you jig, you 
 amble, and you Usp, and nickname God's creatures, and make 
 your wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more marriages; 
 those that are married already, all but one, shall live; the rest 
 shall keep as they are. To a nunnery, go." 
 
 (III. i. 142-9.) 
 
 In talking with the various spies that the king sends 
 to catch him, Hamlet indulges in much humor and 
 banter. He seems to take particular delight in plagu- 
 ing old Polonius with his sarcasm and nonsense. When 
 Polonius comes to him, asking, "Do you know me, my 
 lord?" Hamlet quickly retorts: "Excellent well; you 
 are a fishmonger." Then, after further satirical ban- 
 ter of the same sort, in reply to Polonius's inquiry 
 what he is reading, he answers : "Slanders, sir ; for the 
 satirical rogue says here that old men have grey 
 beards, that their faces are wrinkled . . . and that 
 
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." 
 
 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, cm Ideal Prince 
 
 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 feUow 
 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 
 Iraiior had'st thou for this harsh world !" ^ 
 \_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 and tragedies alike does not come from 
 madness, but from sanity and self-possession. This 
 should make certain the real soundness as well as the 
 > "Humor in Tragedy," p. 367. 
 
Hamlet 71 
 
 great fertility of Hamlet's mind. Humor and mad- 
 ness do not travel the same road. 
 
 "Hamlefs 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 
 
72 Hamlet, cm Ideal Prince 
 
 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 shaD 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 
 
Harnlet 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 glas:, 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. 
 
 Hamlet's Melancholy. 
 
 From the opening of the play Hamlet has been 
 marked as a melancholy man. Apparently this had not 
 
74 Hamlet, cm Ideal Prmce 
 
 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 
 the things that 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 
 
Hamdet 75 
 
 "Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral baked-meats 
 Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables." 
 
 (I. il. 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 deaxl, 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, cm Ideal Prmce 
 
 This, then, 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 
 assassin's dagger, nor purify it by the king's blood. 
 Unlike Fortinbras and Laertes, his passion was not vin- 
 dictiveness, and could not be satisfied by avenging 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 
 
Hairdet 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 tiie 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 difScult, 
 and he would gladly pursue a more tranquil career. 
 But he rises to the necessity, howsoever reluctantly, and 
 steadfastly pursues his appointed task. 
 
 In all this 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 Ha/mlet, an Ideal Prmce 
 
 of the Hamlet story is very different, as may be gath- 
 ered from the German play, Fratricide Ptimshed, 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- 
 bras. 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. 
 
 Hamlet 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 about a civil war in Denmark, or that 
 would invite an invasion from Fortinbras. This young 
 ' Furness's translation. Variorum Hamlet, 11. p. 123. 
 
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 V 
 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. 
 
 But Shakespeare had a vision of a new type of hero 
 and of a new 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 entii'ely 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^ f or the good 
 of his country. Werder, therefore, is sifi-ely right when 
 he says his purpose is not so much to punish Claudius 
 as to bring him to justice, — to "revenge" his father's 
 murder. His very inaction, wrongly called procrasti- 
 nation, assumes the character of the highest self-re- 
 straint and patriotism. His one fault is that he cannot 
 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, cm Ideal Prince 
 
 Many 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 swift action. He very quickly avails himself of 
 the services of the players brought to court to amuse 
 him, and turns them to good account. When he dis- 
 covers some one behind the arras in hi"s interview with 
 his mother, he makes a sudden and daring pass that 
 shows him not only capable of action but of impetuous 
 and instant action. Again, on shipboard he proves 
 himself gallant in boarding the pirate ship. And in the 
 last encounter of the play, when treachery and villainy 
 are manifest, he quickly dispatches not only Laertes 
 but also the king. 
 
 The trouble with Hamlet is not inability to act, but 
 an occasional inability to restrain himself in the midst 
 of great provocation. It is only 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 
 
 The King amd Hamlet. 
 
 From the beginning of the play Hamlet has been a 
 great problem and perplexity to the king. As the one 
 living 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 
 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?" (HI. ii. 325-326.) 
 
 AH 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, I 
 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-S7.) 
 
 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 hirii 
 willing to take up the task of moral avenger. j^- 
 
 The first step in the confirmation of Hamlet's sus- 
 picions was the disclosures of the ghost. This, how- 1 
 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. u. 574-579.) 
 
 He therefore resolves not to act without further evi- 
 dence, and to await, as he says, "grounds More rela- 
 tive." (n. 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 Poloniiis Family. 
 
 In aU 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-SO.) 
 
 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 
 
HcmHet 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, cm 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." (H. 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. 161-3.) 
 
 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 
 Aifront 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. ■'^ At once the 
 tone of Hamlet changes, and he turns harshly lipon 
 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. Ophelia, discarded, broods 
 over her misfortune, and at last 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 h^s 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 
 ajcknowledged 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 
 
 ^Cf. Some Thoughts on Hamlet, by H. B. Irving, pp. 31-32, 
 Sydney, Australia, 1911. 
 
88 Harrdet, cm 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-FeUows. 
 
 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 afBicts 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 inf orma- 
 
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 recogflized 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 ray 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 
 finally did so only when convinced that she was treach- 
 erous and untruthful. Any condemnation or justifica- 
 tion of Hamlet's conduct in this sad affair can be 
 reached only by a very careful consideration of all the 
 circumstances. 
 
 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 tome." (I. iii. 99-100.) 
 
 Other persons of the play also thought he loved her. 
 The queen said mournfully at the funeral, "I hoped 
 thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife." (V. i. 
 232.) Laertes was at first doubtful of his love for 
 her but later admits, "Perhaps he loves you now." 
 
92 Hamlet, cm 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.) 
 Even the king seemed satisfied that Hamlet's love for 
 Ophelia was genuine and honorable. 
 
 At first, Laertes and Polonius were unwilling to be- 
 lieve that Hamlet had honorable intentions toward 
 Ophelia. Laertes was the first to warn his sister 
 against Hamlet, and to suggest to her that Hamlet 
 wished only to take advantage of her. And Polonius 
 likewise warns her against him, saying that his vows 
 are "But mere implorators of unholy smts." (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 his sister that Hamlet would not be free 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." (11. 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 
 of Hamlet's love. 
 
 In view of his love for her, Hamlet did not find it 
 easy to give up Ophelia. Even to the last he loved 
 her, though he found it impossible to marry her. For 
 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 93 
 
 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 he 
 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- 
 vinced that Ophelia did not now love him, whatever 
 might have been the case in the past. When 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 of 
 her ceasing to love him was fickleness or an inability to 
 appreciate the noble qualities of his nature, the fact 
 seems to be that Hamlet felt she no longer loved him. 
 It was a great grief to him, and he did not part with 
 her without great sorrow. 
 
 Hamlet, however, did not discard her until he found 
 her treacherous and untruthful. Had Ophelia not 
 given herself to her father's schemes against him, he 
 might have continued his affections, but when he was 
 obliged to doubt her fidelity, there was nothing left for 
 him but to cast her off. When he visited her, dishevelled 
 
94 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 
 
 and nervous, his purpose apparently was to pry into 
 her very soul, and see 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. 
 This was the final and convincing evidence of her un- 
 worthiness, and he never trusted her after. 
 
 Hamlet's behavior toward Ophelia was no doubt 
 cruel, as all such affairs are cruel; but as with his 
 mother later he was cruel only to be kind. It should 
 be recalled that at the 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 ioad 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 noble Hamlet. It was only then that 
 he suggested she should never marry by saying, "Get 
 thee to a nunnery." 
 
 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 weakness, however, was itself 
 an enemy to Hamlet's welfare, and he had to leave her. 
 But he felt her faithlessness very keenly. It was not, 
 however, the fault of Hamlet that Ophelia's mind be- 
 came distracted. The prime cause of her misfortune 
 was rather the suspicions and the treachery of her 
 father and the king, whose innocent victim she was. 
 
 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 vie with Laer- ^ 
 tes in the expression of grief and he says : 
 
 "I loved Ophelia; forty thousand brothers 
 Could not, with all their quantity of love, 
 Make up my sum." 
 
 (V. i. 2S7-3S9.) 
 
 It is apparent, then, that though he had cast her off, 
 he never ceased to love her. In her death he pitied her, 
 but he could never scorn her. 
 
 The Opportvmty of the Players. 
 
 In spite of all his efforts and his "antic disposition," 
 Hamlet had not secured any' objective evidence that 
 the king was guilty of his fatlker's murder, and he still 
 hesitated to execute the injunctions of the ghost. The 
 first event that afforded him a real opportunity, how- 
 ever, was the bringing of the players to court, pre- 
 sumably to divert him from his melancholy. His quick 
 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 
 
96 Handet, an Ideal Prince 
 
 awaited, and Hamlet the inactive becomes henceforth 
 Hamlet the 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." (HI. 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'U observe his looks; 
 I'U tent him to the quick; if he but blench, 
 I know my course." y 
 
 (II. u. 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. sr9-S81.) 
 
 Hamlet's Advice to the Players. 
 
 In order that his schemes m&,y 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." 
 
Handet 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 tataie 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. The noble words of the advice indicate 
 further the dramatist's intention to endow Hamlet with 
 the highest intellectual and moral character. 
 
98 Hamlet, cm 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 
 oiFence 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 
 by 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 
 and of discretion. 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 
 entrap him. But so excited was Hamlet that for once 
 he failed in tactfulness. 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 be- 
 comes uncontrollable. He breaks into popular ditties 
 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." (HI. ii. 274!-5.) 
 All doubt is now removed, and he is prepared to enter 
 actively upon his task of revenge. This marks another 
 Hanilet "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 
 Hamlet has to encounter equally active opposition. 
 Almost single-handed he has to challenge the king with 
 his host of hirelings, and with all the power and pre- 
 rogatives 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 ghost 
 had told, and make a certain test of its truth. The 
 entire success of his play proved beyond doubt that the 
 ghost had been a good spirit and had told him the 
 truth.i 
 
 ^Cf. Trench, Shakegpewre'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 Kmg 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 primal eldest curse upon 't, 
 A brother's murder!" 
 
 (III. iii. 36-38.) 
 
 But he cannot pray, for he is not 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'is 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. lii. 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 
 
 '^Estays on Some of Shakespeare's Dramatic Characters, 6th 
 edition, 1798, p. 133. 
 
102 Hamlet, am. Ideal Prince 
 
 that Hamlet wants to see the king consigned to eteriial 
 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." ^ 
 It may be an expression of the same idea in Marlowe's 
 Faustus, where Benvolio says as he stabs Faustus: 
 "Hell take thy soul." ^ 
 
 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 I., 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." * 
 
 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. 143. 
 
 ' Marlowe's Doctor Faustus, Temple edition. Scene XIII, 41. 
 
 ' Eng. trans, in Furness, II, p. 133. 
 
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 he 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, cm Ideal Prince 
 
 From 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. 18-20) 
 
 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 
 iiis 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 do 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. 137-130.) 
 
 It is important, therefore, to notice that Hamlet's love 
 for his mother and concern for her honor, together with 
 > Gf. Note C, pp. 39S-8, mfm. 
 
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. 149-160.) 
 
 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 rkt 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, cm Ideal Prmce 
 
 "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-S.) 
 
 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.) 
 
 Fortmbras 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. U. 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, cm Ideal Prmce 
 
 and requests Claudius, 
 
 "That it might please you to give quiet pass 
 Through your dominions for this enterprise." 
 
 (II. ii. 77-8.) 
 
 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. 6S-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 King. 
 
 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 1' 
 Caps, hands, and tongues applaud it to the clouds, 
 'Laertes shall be king, Laertes kingl'" 
 
 (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. 
 
112 Hamlet, cm 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." 
 
 Harrdet 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-S.) 
 
 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. Thfe 
 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, cm Ideal Prmce 
 
 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, gTa,pples 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 iU-will to Laertes, and still loved 
 Ophelia^ BuOKejn«deirt~^hows7his~treme^ 
 bilities_of_instant_j;Ction, and goes to disprove~any 
 theory that assumes in him any weakness, mental or 
 volitional. 
 
 The Duel — Handet 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. u. 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. 229-331.) 
 
 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 i*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 wiU 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 
 
 kill'd 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. u. 316.) 
 
 In these last words he bears fuU testimony to the purity 
 and unselfishness of Hamlet's life, and absolves him 
 from all blame: 
 
116 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince s«^ 
 
 "Mine and my father's death come not upon thee. 
 Nor thine on mel" 
 
 (V. ii. 3ir-8.) 
 
 The Vnmasltmg of the King. 
 
 It was only in the duel that the wicked and perfidious 
 character of the king was revealed, and his diabolical 
 schemes 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. u. 314-S.) 
 
 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 behaJf, 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 aU the persons of the 
 drama. 
 
 HaTtdefs 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. 331-3.) 
 
 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: 
 
 •'report me and my cause aright 
 To the unsatisfied." 
 
 (V. ii. 336-7.) 
 
 Horatio, however, is unwilling to live after Hamlet 
 has died, and, saying he is more like an antique Roman 
 
118 Hamlet, cm 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 bom 
 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. 383-7.) 
 
120 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 at;tack from the ambitious Fortinbra^. 
 The crown of Denmark has passed peaceably to his 
 royal kinsman, Fortinbras, and Denmark goes on to- 
 ward her national destiny. 
 
 Hamlet has triimiphed, therefore, even in his death. 
 He has revenged the murder of his 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 wiU 
 
 "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 121 
 
 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 thi^ 
 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." ^ 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." ^ No other 
 character brings such a wealth of intellect, such a well- 
 trained mind, such profundity of thought to the solu- 
 
 * Eng. trans, in Furness, II., p. 295. 
 'Ibid., p. 343. 
 
122 Havdet, 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 ^jrilligait 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 is a trag- 
 edy that is at the same time a triumph. 
 
 Hamlet 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 123 
 
 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. ■* 
 
 (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. 
 
 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 an idealist, and explains every- 
 thing to himself 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 
 "arms against 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. li. 10-11.) 
 
 Hamlet lived his entire life in this moral and reli- 
 gious spirit. All the qualities he admired and sought 
 
124 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. 
 
 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince. 
 
 There 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 Fifth. Both HamJet and 
 Henry are distinguished by their lofty and intelligent 
 patriotism, though Hamlet is much the finer and nobler 
 character. Henry was conscientious, but not so self- 
 sacrificing. He was noble, but not distinguished by 
 great intelligence. He lacked Hamlet's intensity of 
 moral conviction and his profundity of thought. The 
 dramatist could find his perfect ideal only in a legen- 
 dary character, where his own imagination could work 
 
Hamlet 126 
 
 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 endure 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 a 
 corrupt and demoralizing influence in the state, Hamlet 
 seemed to think it would only make matters worse to 
 try to dethrone him by armed force. He therefore 
 seeks other means of accomplishing his moral 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 fee 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 Prmce 
 
 crown pass peaceably to the head \of one no less 
 worthy thai; his kinsman Fortinbras of Norway. 
 Under him the two rival nations could unite, and peace 
 would be maintained. 
 
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE: 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE: 
 
 OE shakespeaee's christian and jew 
 
 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 Merchcmt 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 
 
 ^ 8hakespea/re in the Theatre, by W. Pod, 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? 
 
 n 
 
 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 generallyadmitted no w by scholars ^^at 
 Jews on the stage were 'looKduygon^__a£_comic person- 
 ag^^2™d~^^'^3^SIS2SSCE£^^^ited_^wiJth laugjifcer 
 and s£orn. 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. 
 
 ^Gf. Brandes, William Shakespeare, English trans., p. 164, 
 London, 1903. 
 
1S2 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 
 
 It might be supposed, therefore, that neither^of^the 
 dramatists really had a chance to understand^he 
 Jewi|h_ character,^a'nd"TKat:"Vhatever tJiey^ad^^to say 
 would be^lS^ely^a nratter of hearsay and -p*«3«dice. 
 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 StoU 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." ^ 
 
 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 
 
 ' "Shylock," article in Journal of English and Germanic Pftt- 
 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- 
 paris gn of his Shylock with Marbw£™s„Ba.r%b:as, or 
 with__any~othe£~3E5ZofI^£jBarn drama, rev.eals. .an 
 abseac eoTan y^Jjiijgotry, and discloses a new and 
 better attitude ^owarcf~"the Jews. All critics have 
 notice d that ■hia,_Jew_ia--a--maa--fl«d-«ot--a,in^ister,^ a 
 human_beiiig„aiuL-not--a..j£iid. 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, 
 Shakespieare 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 Prmce 
 
 the last decade of the eighteenth century. Fumess 
 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 mjide 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. •*■ 
 
 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." ^ 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.' " * 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." * 
 
 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 — 
 
 ^ Furness, Variorum Merchcmt of Venice, pp. 403-4. 
 
 'Ibid., p. 405. 
 
 *Ibid., p. 405. 
 
 * WilUam Shakespeare, p. 164. 
 
Ttie 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." ^ 
 
 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, 1913. 
 ' History of EnffKsh Dramatic Literature, 1. 189. London, 1875. 
 
136 Hamlet, am, 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 Vemce 187 
 
 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 aU 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 co nflict of Christian and 
 Jew issues only in connectioix_wi£h-B «ssa ii ia V-pursuit 
 of love,TrhTdM^dterfiSaiH st(5ry"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_ ij§u2[_but 
 romantic stofy"'^Bas£ajno's^Jo\e for Port ia, andj ias 
 made the latter both the occasion an? the sjglution^^T''^ 
 the racial conflict. ItTs ^he~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 Ihis 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 chiefly 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 
 mcident of the play. He appears only as a compli- 
 cation of the initial plot, which apart from him would 
 
140 Hamlet, an Ideal Prmce 
 
 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 
 lessica, is a link between the two, and helps to solve 
 he 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 
 a re : 
 
 "In sooth I know not why I am so sad. 
 It wearies me: you say it wearies you." 
 (I. i. 1-3.) 
 
 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." 
 
 (1. ii. 1-2.) 
 
 Antonio's melancholy ^ 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 
 ^Of. Fumess, p. 2. 
 
The Merchant of Venice 141 
 
 taken together forecast the serious and tragic nature 
 of the two issues of the drama. AU the^e^lenients of 
 tragedj__seem to be present, and are avertedL^nly by 
 the i nherenF^ orai^charecter'ot'T'SEe! 
 
 The situation ofTKe'playr'outlihed 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. 190-3.) 
 
 Bassanio h&s 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 
 
142 Hamlet, an Ideal Prmce 
 
 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_t he dr ama, 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 a ct, then, 
 there is a ret urn 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 Qx ifeJTiflrl-tKpTTip of the 
 dr ama, a nd in turn also^ the frame - work for the still 
 more absofBing~conHict of Christian_ani. Jew, con- 
 taine^Tn fhiS story ofTIie~Pouna~of Flesh. 
 
 IV 
 
 Antonio's lack of ready money to equip his friend 
 propeirly to undertake the expedition for the hand of 
 fair Portia leads him to try his credit among the 
 money-lenders of Venice, who of coutse 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 great est and most absorbing conflict of the d rama 
 begins with the attempt of the Christians and Jew to 
 arrange^satisfactoryterms ' for theloari~"(?fjbftemoney. 
 
 Now for the first "tuneTKe" veneraH!e 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. Diff'ering 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, cm 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 mediasval 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.-' 
 
 Excellent as he is in many^jiarticulars^,- -Antonio, 
 to us, is''faF^rom''¥il" a3nijrabIe_QjtiaraGter. To his 
 friends aii3"TiIIow-CHrisiEians he may be magnanimous 
 and generous, and Salanio calls him "the good Antonio, 
 the honest Antonio." But to JejE:s-he Jicknowledges no 
 obligaiionjj, regarding, J^em_,as__d£gs^ratli^^ ; 
 
 while to ShiylocE 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. Sis 
 Christianity was es sentially mediaeval in its^. narrow- 
 ness, both m doctniie and In practicer^'" 
 
 AntonTo~is-»evErthele9s~th&-i=epi-es^entative 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, mediseval conception 
 
 ' Of. "Shakespeare's Jew and Marlowe's Christians," by William 
 Poel, in his Shakegpeare in the Theatre, pp. 69-84. 
 
146 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 
 
 of Christianity, and, therefore, he is not to us an 
 ideal character.^ 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 diiFerence 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 
 
 ^ 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." ^ 
 
 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 aU 
 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 siniiing. 
 
 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-CQnduct has 
 robbed him— Qf_anyloye in his own home. In all his 
 dealiiigs^Shylock is portrayed a§ greedy, as miserly, 
 andr-as- tyrannical. Jf this were manifest only in his 
 dealings- with,. Christians^ Jt might be considered an 
 expression of religious_iIl;wilLand- 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." 
 
 »0p. dt. p. 366. 
 
148 Hamlet, an Ideal Prmce 
 
 His own daughter, Jessica, when she marries, prefers 
 |a Christian, hoping for better home conditions, for 
 fehe says, "Our house is hell." Shylock's sorrow at her 
 {elopement is not so mucji 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 
 aM'practices of their reHgions, andit is these as much 
 as the men that are tested in the final trial. 
 
 Thus the two men are led to exhibit the limitations 
 '■ 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 j^ustice 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." ^ 
 
 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. iu. 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 
 
 *Fo«r Yea/rs of Novel Beading, p. 4; Boston, D. C. Heath 
 & Co. 
 ^William Shakespea/re, English trans., pp. 1S7-8. 
 
150 Hamlet, am 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 noj 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. iu. 164-6.) 
 
 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 hond 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 Mp, 
 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. 33-35.) 
 
 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 
 
152 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 ray 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 
 jhim 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 
 xingenious 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 differiences. 
 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 aU 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- 
 n>ess 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 finds 
 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 oif 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, am, Ideal Prmce 
 
 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 scomfulness. He 
 steadfastly declines all but the forfeiture, the pound of 
 jflesh, 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 up6n him the petitions of 
 the Christian prayer which teaches us when we pray 
 for mercy to render also the deeds of mercy. AU 
 these admonitions Shylock impatiently repudiates, ex- 
 claiming : 
 
 "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 a 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, swmmwn 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, cm 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 Merchcmt 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, cm 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.-^ 
 
 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 
 
 'For Mr. Doyle's article, entitled "Shakespeare's Law — The 
 Case of Shylock," ef. The Overland Monthly, for July, 1886. 
 For a summary of the article, of. Furness's Variorum Edition of 
 The Merchant of Venice, pp. 417-430. 
 
The Merchant of Venice 161 
 
 bend it to the peril of Shylock — and all because he 
 was a Jew.-' 
 
 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 quotation^ 
 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 wiU 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 itiercy." 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 
 
 » 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 ly 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.^ 
 
 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- 
 
 '"Shylock's Case," by Judge Nathaniel Holmes, in The West- 
 em OaXascy, published in Salt Lake City, Vol. I, No. 2, pp. 209- 
 21T, 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 
 
 1 "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. 
 
-1 /m; luci vnurov uj r emce 
 
 165 
 
 the elements in the situation.^ 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 he 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 revengCj 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.) 
 
 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." ^ 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 beautifiil 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, am 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 ma^y be reconciled un- 
 der the sweet and holy influences of love. Many of the 
 diff^erences 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 TBAGEDY OF A MOOB IN VENICE 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 OTHELLO: 
 
 THE TUAGEDY OF A MOOU 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- 
 lo, 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." ^ 
 
 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 shoxild 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. 
 
 Othetto has doubtless been very difficvdt 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 
 ^Shakespearean Tragedy, pp. 177-8. London, 3nd edition, 190S. 
 
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 wo.rd 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 Prmce 
 
 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.-' 
 
 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 aiFections, corrupt our appetite, and fill our head 
 with vanity, confusion, tintamarre, and j ingle- jan- 
 gle?" ^ 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, 
 and is so much more careful to please than to instruct, 
 that he seems to write without any moral purpose . . . 
 
 ^Cf. Quinlan, Poetic Justice in the Drcima: The History of 
 an Ethlfcal Primcvple in Literatry Criticism, University Press, 
 Notre Bame, Indiana, U. S. A., 1913. 
 
 ^Gf. 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 
 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." ^ 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 dihgent 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." ^ 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 
 
 ^ Johnson, Shakespeare and His Critics, p. 18 ; Houghton, MifiSin 
 & Co., 1909. 
 'Lectures on Shakespeare (Bohn'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 
 Ia.go. 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. 
 
 n 
 
 In the matter of Othello and lago, it cannot fairly 
 be maintained that lago was the sole cause of the 
 calamities that befell Othello. In general it must be 
 said that there is no Shakespearean tragedy in which 
 the responsibility fpr 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 belon^ng to the nineteenth century. Professor 
 
180 Hamlet, am. Ideal Prince 
 
 StoU 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." ^ It is this very conception 
 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,^ 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 Sha-kespeare, 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 
 away 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 
 conflict with lago, for this drew from him all the hid- 
 
 ' Cf. "Criminals in Shakespeare and in Science," by E. E. 
 StoU, in Modem Philology, Vol. X, p. 59. 
 ' Cf. 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, hke 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." ^ 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." ^ 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.^ 
 
 '■Shakespeare, "English Men of Letters," Eversley edition, p. 
 269. London, 1909. 
 
 'Shakespearean Tragedy, p. 208. 
 
 'Professor StoU has characterized the Shakespearean criticism 
 of Professors Raleigh and Bradley as "the most bewUdering 
 thing in the world to read, whether taken as a whole or piece 
 by piece. Truth is tangled with error, fact with fancy, criticism. 
 
182 Hamlet, an Ideal Prmce 
 
 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. StoU, 
 article on "Anachronism in Shakespeare Criticism," pp. SS7-S7S, 
 Modern Philology, Vol. VII, No. 4, April, 1910. 
 
Othello 183 
 
 soul.' » 1 
 
 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 the 
 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 
 
 ^ Alden, op. cit., Atlcmtic Monthly, February, 1910, p. 267. 
 Ubid., p. 367. 
 
184 Hamlet, an Ideal Prmce 
 
 not the slightest suggestion of retribution, and as Car- 
 lyle 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 misfoEtunes. 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 3, diffel'ent 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, buti the conflict was between 
 their united and unwavering love and the hostility of 
 their families. In the case of Othello and Desdemona 
 the 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 
 curious care and is of value to the whole, and cannot 
 be 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. i 
 
 m 
 
 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,-' 
 and undertook to live his life in Venice. The Moors of 
 both Africa and Spain were looked upon by English- 
 
 ' "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 Ilhistrationg of Shakespeare, 
 II, p. 380. Quoted by Furness, the Variorum Othello, p. 390. In 
 aU 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.^ 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 
 who had become a Christian . . . but who retains be- 
 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 
 1 crust of Venetian culture." ^ 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-S). Here he is 
 evidently tlunking of the "tawny Moor." Cf. Coleridge, Lec- 
 tures on Shakespeare (Bohn's Library), pp. 477 and 599. 
 
 ' Hunter's remarks about Venice in his comments upon The 
 Merchant of Venice apply equally weU 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. 
 
 'Shakespearean Tragedy, pp. 186-7. 
 
Othello 187 
 
 spearean." Ever since Schlegel's time,^ 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- 1 
 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 
 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. The 
 real conflict of the play, then, is between Othello, with 
 whom is joined Desderaona, on the one hand, and lago, 
 his ancient, on the other. From the outset, Othello is 
 struggling with a situation which he inaugurated before 
 
 ' Cf. Schlegel's Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature, 
 Lecture XXV, Eng. trans, in Bohn's Library. 
 
188 Hamlet, cm Ideal Prvnce 
 
 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 OtheUo and Desdemona. -"^ 
 For this lago now declares his hatred of the pair, and 
 intimates his willingness to join Roderigo in an attempt 
 to harass OtheUo, and if not too late, to prevent his 
 marriage.^ 
 
 " Cf. Bodenstedt, referred to In Furness, p. 5. 
 
 'Professor Bradley warns us against believing on his sole 
 authority "a syllable that lago utters on any subject, including 
 himself." {Op. dit., p. 211.) 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 Shakespeare's dramatic frame- 
 work to hold that lago's soliloqtiies are lies." {Op. cit., p. 561.) 
 Bu^ 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 
 not be fully conscious of his own motives, but it is scarcely con- 
 ceivable 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, the 
 chief conflict of the play.'^ 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 ofiicer. 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-mijided 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 Othello 
 
 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 final 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. 
 ^Cf. Hodell, op. cit. 
 
190 Hamlet, an Ideal Prmce 
 
 and Desdemona, and the promotion of Cassio to the 
 
 position of lieutenant under Othello. The words of 
 
 lago 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 
 of 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 heis been held, for example, that 
 Othello treated lago abominably in preferring Cassio 
 to him." ^ But the "lunacy" on this occasion is to 
 be charged to Othello in utterly disregarding and 
 flouting the principle of preferment that holds in 
 military 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. 
 ^ Shakespearean Tragedy, p. 308. 
 
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 Des- 
 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 lago 
 a great change comes over their relations. It cannot 
 be too much insisted upon that up to this time they had 
 been the warmest and closest friends, and that lago had 
 been in fact the confidential ofiicer 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 E^ations for the opening * 
 scene. But in spite of all that has been observed aboutj 
 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 OtheUo. The task of the 
 critic at present, then, is to discover the cause of this 
 great change in the relationships of these two men, 
 
192 Hamlet, cm 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 oiF, 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." ^ 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 
 foujid Cassio v ery serv ic eable in his love-making. A 
 complete criticism of tKe^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. 
 
 ^ '^ Shakespearean Tragedy, p. 318. 
 
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 Csesars 
 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 inj 
 the ai;my, 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. 31-2.) This wholly unwarranted action 
 rightly grieved lago, who took it as a great slight,, 
 
194) Handet, cm 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 
 lago, 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 
 motive, 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 
 Till I am even'd with him, wife, for wife. 
 Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor 
 At least into a jealousy so strong 
 That judgment cannot cure." 
 
 (II. i. 331-S.) 
 
 'J 
 
 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 
 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 hig 
 
 I l^efined and delicate Venetian bride. But his guilt is 
 lefFvery doubtful by the play ,"an3~T;heref ore this con- 
 
 '; elusion 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 
 a course of open hostility and revenge against his 
 General, and the appearance of friendliness will better 
 serve his purpose. Hisjiiferior_position compels him 
 to play the hypocrite, and appear to continue faithful 
 
196 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 
 
 to 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 imderstand the fierce nature of Othello, 
 and does not appear at first to foresee the terrible ex- 
 tremes to which his barbaric and ungovernable passion 
 will drive him. He realizes that he must at no time be 
 found in a position "Against the Moor" (I. i. 162), and 
 therefore separates himself from Roderigo, and hastens 
 to join himself to Othello, in order to appear on his 
 side in the ensuing disturbance. 
 
 rv 
 
 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.^ 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 diff'erent 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 
 ^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 cool words of 
 Othello prevent a clash between the two:"" " 
 
 "Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them." 
 
 (I. ii. rS-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 with 
 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 
 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^ 
 particulars with the Venetians. It is likely, however, 
 that Othello had feared this, and so took Desdemona 
 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- 
 baijtio's objections to Othello all have to do with his 
 diflFerence 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 Hamlet, an Ideal Prmce 
 
 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 
 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 Ehzabethan 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 
 ito Cassio in the matter of his love-making with I)es- 
 Jdemona he has appointed him to an important position 
 over lago, thus making an enemy of his faithful officer. 
 He has klso 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 
 civil^ .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 da ngerous ca price. 
 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 half-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 ibut ignored in the interpretation. On this as- 
 sumptton, however, the many references to his color 
 andTrace throughout the play cannot well be explained.^ 
 ""' is view takes for granted that the dramatist heaps 
 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 
 » Cf. Note D., pp. 298-300, infra. 
 
200 Hamlet, cm 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 civihzed life. And the play makes Othello 
 quite as conscious as any one else of his diversity of 
 race, 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, 
 and 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 
 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 j 
 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,'^ but the fact that in marrying Othello , 
 she showed a wilful disregard of her own highest in- 
 
 ^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 
 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 OtheUo 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." Bng. 
 trans, in Furness's Variorum Othello, p. 441. 
 
202 Hamlet, an Ideal Prmce 
 
 terests. It can scarcely be maintained that the mar- 
 riage of Othello and Desdemona was a complete spir- 
 itual union, for there were too many diverse elements 
 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 
 Desdemona 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 hke 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 
 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, 
 for, as her words imply, she finds compensation for his 
 color in the quality of his mind, in his honors, and in 
 his 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 re- 
 mark: 
 
 "Look to her (Moor) if thou hast eyes to see: 
 She Jias 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 much 
 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 storm' as is expected only in 
 a hero." ^ 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 
 ^ Shakespearean Tragedy, pp. 202-3. 
 
204i 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." ^ 
 
 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." ^ Her love, indeed, seems to be a 
 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." ^ The last mentioned writer shows 
 clear insight when he contrasts the love of Othello and 
 Desdemona with that of Romeo and Juliet, which so 
 "completely possesses and occupies their simple souls, 
 that they present no point of vantage for disintegrat- 
 ing forces." * 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 
 
 '^Shakspere — His Mind and Art, p. 232, 13th edition, 1906. 
 'Shakespeare Commentaries: Tragedies, p. 95, St. Louis, U. S. 
 A., 1807. 
 
 ' Eversley Shakespeare, Vol. VIII., p. 390. 
 '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 OtheUo 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 tq 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 Bar abas. 
 And in The Merchant of Venice, about whose author- 
 ship there can be no doubt, and which is earlier than 
 OtheUo, 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."^ 
 (II. Yix. 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. OtheUo, too, feel- 
 ing that some compensation must be offered, pleads be- 
 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 
 
 *The 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 "vahant 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 
 apologies 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, 
 who always reads deeper than others, it is on the sur- 
 face a matter of color, but at bottom a matter of racial 
 divergence that amounts to an incompatibility of char- 
 acter. It is this difference of character that Shake- 
 speare elevates ipto 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 m reading the play we like to see Desde- 
 raona forget Othello's color and love him for his mind's 
 sake, — see his visage in his mind; but im 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." ^ And 
 most people feel the same unless obsessed with some a 
 
 'Lamb, Works, London, 1870, III, 102; quoted in Furness's 
 Variorum Othello, p. 410. 
 "Quoted, Furness, 392. 
 
Othello 207 
 
 piioTi 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 
 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 physi- 
 cal daring, even an intellectual vigor, about him that 
 is in every way excellent. But these are the qualities 
 of a noble barbarian, and would not make up a highly : 
 civilized European. He does not possess the finer in^j 
 tellectual qualities, nor the moral sensibility to grapple! 
 with the intricate and complex problems of life that 
 present themselves in his new environment.-' 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 
 which cannot be restrained by his acquired virtues. 
 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 
 * Of. Herford, Eversley Shakespeare, VIII, 289. 
 
208 Hamlet, an Ideal Prmce 
 
 to the savage over the moral man." ^ Othello lacks the 
 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 
 works 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 generahzation, and must 
 necessarily be limited to a particular instance. But 
 the larger principle upon which the dramatist is work- 
 ing is that of marital incompatibility, and to make out 
 his contention he chooses^aT^caseThat not only exhibits 
 to the inner sense of those who observe but also exhibits 
 to the outer sense of those who only see. Shakespeare 
 has in this play first taken two persons joined in a mar- 
 
 ^ScMegel, Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature, Eng. 
 trans., p. 402, cf. Fumess, p. 432. 
 
OtheUo 209 
 
 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- 
 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 
 OtheUo 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 cha,r- 
 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.^ 
 
 » It is unnecessary to spend time discussing the question whether 
 Shakespeare thought of Othello as a negro. Not Ukely he made 
 anv clear distinction between the various black peoples. He gives 
 OtheUo the "thick lips" of the negro, though all his other char- 
 acteristics are Moorish rather than negro. Of. quotations m Fur- 
 
210 Hamlet, cm Ideal Prmce 
 
 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." ^ But this is not enough. The difference 
 of blood is a factor in the situation of 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 
 there 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,^ 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. 
 
 '^ Shakespearean Tragedy, p. 193. 
 
 'Professor Bradley speaks of lago as "a man ten times as able 
 as Cassio or even Othello." (Op. cit., p. 921.) 
 
Othello 211 
 
 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 riide self-confidence : 
 
 "Not I: I must be found. 
 My parts, my title, and my perfect soul 
 Shall manifest me rightly." 
 
 (I. ii. 3S-3r.) 
 
 He was bright enough to foresee opposition, and for 
 this reason married secretly, but not far-seeing enough 
 to appreciate the character of the resentment he would 
 a'rouse. Even his long military career had not entirely 
 eradicated his barbaric view of his relations to others, 
 and, as we have seen from his dealings with lago, had 
 not implanted a high sense of honor. 
 
 It is only after OtheUo has his wife secure and is 
 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 ofSce. I know not if t 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 
 
212 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 
 
 her as not invulnerable. (IV. iii.) It seems somewhat 
 ungracious, inasmuch as there is no proof in the play, 
 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 
 ill-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 
 i all alike show his inability to maintain the standards 
 of their life. 
 
 VI 
 
 Having now studied the two conflicts into which the 
 ' baj'baric'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 
 as they aff'ect Desdemona, and the development of the 
 play. The condemnation of lago has been so nearly 
 
Othello 213 
 
 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,^ There is no doubt about 
 his villainy, and as Macaulay long ago said he is the 
 object of universal loathing. There is a sly anA 
 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 his 
 pursuit of his end that makes him appear to love evi]/ 
 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.^ 
 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 and re- 
 venge.* 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 
 
 ' Lectwres on Shahespea/re, p. 388. 
 
 ^Tragic Drama, by Lewis Campbell, p. 339. 
 
 " W. H. Hadow, in A Ibawy Review, same Living Age, Sept. 12th, 
 1908, 258:674-680. 
 
214 Harrdet, am, 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." ^ 
 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 a/ni/ time 
 he would have enjoyed befooling and tormenting Othel- 
 lo." ^ And then he explains lago's casting off the 
 mask at this time by saying that "His thwarted sense of 
 superiority wants satisfaction." ^ 
 
 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 been 
 envious of Othello as well, for as Professor Bradley 
 himself says, he is "a man ten times as able as Cassio 
 or even Othello." * 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 
 
 * 8hake0pearean Tragedy, p. 221. ° Op. cit., p. 229. 
 ' Op. cit., p. 298. * Op. dt., p. SSI. 
 
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 previou^ 
 faithful and good record had qualified him. To admit, 
 that it was this that caused him to throw oiF the "mask" 
 of his friendship for OtheUo 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, but^ 
 becomes a drama of revenge, which is a very different 
 thing. Given the deed of Othello operating upon the' 
 
 ^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.^ 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 
 > Professor Stoll has recently called attention to the Machiavel- 
 lian characteristics of lago, in an article on "Crimin^s in Shake- 
 speare and in Science," in Modern Philology, Vol. X, pp. 55-80, 
 1912-13. 
 
216 Hamlet, cm Ideal Prmce 
 
 full measure of the oifence, but even this does not 
 make him a fiend incarnate. lago launches his poisoned 
 darts against none but those who hav.e offended him, 
 and who have stood in his way. His initial ambitions 
 and hopes were legitimate and proper, but his relent- 
 less revenge on those who interfered was extreme and 
 diabolical.! Yet he is by no means such a villain as 
 Macbeth oV 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 OtheUo. 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- 
 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.^ 
 His motives can be claimed to be psychologically 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 
 
 ' 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 Oentlemen at 
 Exeter, as long ago as 1796. Cf. Furness, pp. 408-9. 
 
Othello 217 
 
 lago a great creation. The play makes him a human 
 being with human but evil motives, and his unscrupu- 
 lo us use of th ejdupfi^oderigo, shows his criminal hearF 
 legsness. Moreover, it mustTe'TFeely" declared that 
 the punishment he meted out to Othello was undoubt- 
 edly oxat 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. 305-7.) 
 
 For lago to plague Othello to the murder of his wife and 
 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 
 -the 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 to 
 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. iu. 418-420.) 
 
S18 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 
 
 This would at once feed fat his revenge on Othello, who 
 was the direct agent in both his injuries; would enable 
 5iiim 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, eCnd 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 
 Roderigo 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 
 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 
 loved the gentle Desdemona, and was very proud of 
 her. As Coleridge said, "Othello had no life but in 
 Desdemona: — the belief that she, his angel, had fallen 
 
Othello 219 
 
 from the heaven of her native innocence, wrought a 
 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 mu ch ^jealousy as pr ide, for, as many writers have 
 remarked, it was lago who was essentially the jealous 
 man.^ It was his great affection that caused him to, 
 feel so deeply the stain of dishonor. He had not him-j; 
 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, for 
 then he is "as full of quarrel, and offence As my young 
 mistress' dog." (II. ii. 66-7.) The result of this will 
 
 ^Lectures on Shakespeare, p. 393. 
 
 'Of. Heraud, quoted by Furness, pp. 88-9; Tennyson, Memoir, 
 II. p. 393. 
 
220 Hamlet, an Ideal Prmce 
 
 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 OtheUo 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. 419-430.) 
 
 With the fortunate turn he has now given to events, 
 he devises a scheme for abusing Qthello's ear. When 
 Cassio comes to him in great distress because of his 
 fall, and wants his kind offices, he advises him to entreat 
 Desdembna 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 
 in words that show how fully he realizes the diabolical 
 character of the plan. At the same time he reveals 
 how 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 821 
 
 lago 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 
 to 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 
 that lago did not yet think that justice had been meted 
 out to Qthello, for he had as yet suifered nothing for , 
 the alleged wrong with Emilia. The fact that lago 
 was stiU not satisfied when he had obtained the desired 
 vindication for the slight in the promotion of Cassic 
 seems to indicate the seriousness with which he looked 
 upon the affair concerning his wife. The alternative of 
 assuming him to be a very devU 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 
 brought lago's fabric about his ears." ^ Professor 
 Bradley, apparently possessed by the same thought, 
 says that it "confounds us with a feeling . . . that 
 fate has taken sides with villainy." ^ These state- 
 ments, however, are but new forms of the mistaken 
 conception that intrigue and not character rules in 
 some of the plays of Shakespeare. Ulrici long ago 
 
 ^Shakespeare, "English Men of Letters," Eversley edition, 
 p. 374. London, 1909. 
 ' Shakerpea/recm Tragedy, p. 183. 
 
Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 
 
 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." ^ But there is no occasion to take Othello out 
 from the main body of Shakespearean tragedy, for no 
 less 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 
 
 '■Shaketpeare^s Dramatic Art, 1847, Eng. trans, in Furness, 
 p. 434. 
 
Othello 223 
 
 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, 
 its intensity, and its blindness, has the very quality of 
 tragic passion." ^ 
 
 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 
 * Introduction io Othello in the Eversley Shakespeare, p. 389. 
 
224 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 
 together : 
 
 *'. . . myself, a while, to draw the Moor apart. 
 And bring him jump, when he may Cassio find 
 SoUcitins his wife." 
 
 (II. ii. 418-420.) 
 
 Under the peculiar conditions of her marriage Des- 
 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 
 » Op. dt., p. 391. 
 
Othello £f5 
 
 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 
 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 Vemce, Hamlet, and many other 
 plays. The tragedies of life are not due primarily to 
 unlikeness of favor, or to any other external difference, 
 
226 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 
 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." 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, 
 ^and 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 227 
 
 munity of feeling from the jOutset, 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 
 Js_believiiig to Othello, the entrance of Bmnca 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_tjO_ expostulate with 
 Desdemona lest her beauty deprive him of resolution. 
 Like the half-savage he is, lie. 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's 
 suggestion defers instant action, in order to carry out 
 a more perfect retribution by strangling her in the 
 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," ^ and 
 it may be remarked very much greater dignity than his 
 Julius Cffisar. But his recall from ^yprusy- leB^dng 
 Cassio in his place, serves as the occasion of a com- 
 plete loss of self-control. When Desdemona shows 
 ^Shakespearean Tragedy, p. 190. 
 
228 Hamlet, an ld.eal Prince 
 
 pleasure at the prospect of return to Venice, Othello 
 mistakes her meaning, and the elemental passion in 
 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 
 before, 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, OtheUo 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. 
 
 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 229 
 
 her eyes open, and then to be cast off for another, a 
 countryman of her own, was too much of a disappoint- 
 ment 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 wiU 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.-"^ 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 faith and his love" that move him.^ 
 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 blood from 
 men of royal seige could not endure to be made in- 
 ferior to his own lieutenant. Othello was a very proud 
 man, and boasted his royal lineage. He had no sus- 
 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, was a new thing to him. It 
 
 ^ Lectures on Shakespeare, pp. 381, 386, 393, 477, S39. 
 'Shakespearean Tragedy, p. 194. 
 
330 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. 
 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. 
 
 vn 
 
 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 
 confiict, and indicates the lines of their collisions. In 
 the concluding scenes he draws the whole matter to a 
 moral and dramatic culmination that is in efFect his 
 judgment upon the problems of the play. Here he dis- 
 entangles the various threa,ds that he has woven into 
 the complexity of the plot, and in so doing gives his 
 verdict upon the merits of the 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 231 
 
 Othello. 
 
 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. 
 When he has got all the service they can render him, 
 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 the 
 bed-chamber of his wife, to destroy her whose supposed 
 transgression had ruined his happiness and almost his 
 hfc. The wild-beast fury of his anger has exhausted 
 itself, and gives way to a calm and steady purpose to 
 
Hamlet, cm 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 
 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 
 own 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- 
 ing Othello ; she had deceived Othello himself about the 
 handkerchief; and now in her dying hour she would 
 shield her husband from his crime by deceitfully de- 
 claring she had done it herself. But Othello, with his 
 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. Is there 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, her 
 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 
 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," ^ and 
 says that "Desdemona and Othello are both made per- 
 fect in the act of death." ^ 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." * 
 
 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 who 
 runs may read, but he who only fancies may conceiv- 
 
 * Rose, quoted in Furness, p. 439. 
 'Shakespeare, p. 271. 
 
 » Op. dt., p. 374. 
 
 * Shakespearean Tragedy, p. 303. 
 
234 Hamlet, an Ideal Primce 
 
 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 wilfulness, 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- 
 prise, then, that she loses the confidence of her hus- 
 band. 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- 
 bed was a kind of perverseness. Her whole tone was 
 apologetic 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 235 
 
 father as well as upon her. Brabantio no doubt was 
 the first "to belie his own daughter's chastity" as 
 Lloyd remarks,^ 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 needed 
 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 remaining 
 evidence into nothing and convince Othello that he 
 has been grievously duped. But in spite of his mar- 
 riage, Othello had no real union with Desdemona, and 
 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- 
 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 
 ^ Furness, p. 80. 
 
236 Hamlet, cm Ideal Prmce 
 
 as by Brabantio, but nowhere was received as one of 
 themselves except by the ill-fated Desdemona. Hence 
 Othello 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 expresses himself in what 
 is probably the -most passionate self-reproach in Shake- 
 speare. 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. 
 
 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, Desdemont dead Desdemon: dead. Oh, Oh!" 
 
 (V. ii. 339-344.) 
 
 When it was all over, Othello came to a clearer vision, 
 and 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 weU: 
 Of one, not easily jealous, but being wrought. 
 Perplexed in the extreme." 
 
 (V. ii. 413-430.) 
 
 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." 
 
 vin 
 
 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 de^ath 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 
 
238' 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 
 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. Othello was not a criminal, for he did 
 not plan the harm of any one, and was not 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, 
 and is not a moral repentance for a great and recog- 
 nized 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, 
 he 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 
 it was he that made it such, and he should be the avenger 
 of the wrong i^pon 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 
 
Kmg Lear 256 
 
 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 aU 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.'^ 
 
 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 
 accura,cy; 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, an Ideal Prmce 
 
 the special vice of certain modern institutions. And 
 no one was better able than Shakespeare to depict 
 the evils attendant upon tyranny.-' 
 
 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." ^ 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." * 
 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- 
 s hip, yet wishes l ii lj U ClT tB'^teg^hought magnamimoiis. 
 Hg-tramfgrrtKe"" dutie s buPnot the!ji^s~7y s^^v-^ 
 ereignty,j_ye.t"d,SsSS3S9--be--<?0Bsid«Td~generoiw .- --^^ 
 love for his daughters has none of the marks of sacri- 
 fice, but demands a more complete sacrifice and sub- 
 jection on their part.^ 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. 
 
 ^Gf. Snider, op. cit. p. 152. 
 
 'Of. cit. pp. 335-6. 
 
 'English trans, in Furness, p. 461. 
 
 * Op. cit., p. 163. 
 
 ' 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. 
 
 m 
 
 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 _opportunitv to shog 
 h erself more worthy than her s Jatprs, and thu^ win 
 the most op ulent j thirdof the king dom. He calls 
 "attention to the f^JiHTTEatLear 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, cm Ideal Prince 
 
 surpass her sisters in her declaration.^ 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.^ 
 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. 133-3.) 
 
 If this plan had been carried out, says Professor 
 Bradley, "it would have had no such consequences as 
 followed its alteration." ® 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- 
 
 ^Gf. Perrett, Story of Lear from Monmouth to Shakespeare. 
 Reviewed in Modem Larvguage Review, October, 1905. Cf. p. 71. 
 ' Of. English trans, in Furness, p. 9. . 
 ' Shakespeaream Tragedy, p. 350. 
 
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. "' —-———"" 
 
 fceai — EcccEp bs and seeri^ 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, am Ideal Prmce 
 
 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. Diities 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 exe^^ted 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 daughter 
 of her father, and at bottom thought chiefly of herself. 
 She had not been taught to make sacrifices for others, 
 and in the critical moment for Lear her haughtiness 
 played her false. Her disposition proved to have a 
 fatal 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." ^ 
 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" ^ 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. 163. 
 
 ' Coleridge, op. cit. p. 335. 
 
262 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 
 perverse as weU. 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' wiU. 
 
 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 a pure unselfish affection, there 
 is no doubt she would have been willing in 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- 
 ' Fumess, p. 16. 
 
Kmg Lear 263 
 
 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 stubbornness irritated and (angered her 
 father who was not accustomed to such rebuifs.) 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 
 to incur 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-S.) 
 
 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, cm 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. 24!9, 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 Kmg 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- 
 'Furness, p. 393. 
 
Kmg Lear 
 
 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 
 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." ^ 
 
 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 
 > Contemporary Review, Vol. LXX. p. 826. 
 
266 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 
 
 father arid 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- 
 ceived into joining the faithless son. Both stories, as 
 has been said, present the father's tragedy, and the 
 fact 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. 
 
 IV 
 
 As was to be expected, Lear's retention of "The 
 name and all th' additions 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. "TiU now," says Gervinus, "they 
 had flattered him like dogs, they had said ay and no to 
 everything he said." ^ 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, 
 ^Shakespeare Commentaries, Eng. trans, by Bunn^tt, 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 
 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. i 
 
 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 
 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 reaUy 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. ir-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 fuU 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 ^ 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. 126). 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 
 
 ' Kent was 48 years old. Cf. I. iv. 38, and II. ii. 58. 
 
King Lear 
 
 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 Cordeha: 
 
 "O most smaU 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 A 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 
 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 Leaj 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 
 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, j He long ago lost 
 his moral balance and now is in danger of losing his 
 
270 Hamlet, cm 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- 
 
Othello 239 
 
 Desdemona's concern and the innocent means of offence 
 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 tragedy of character. Like that of 
 Romeo and Juliet the new marriage was subject from 
 the first to an external conflict, but unlike Romeo and 
 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, and 
 the tragic end points the moral of the danger of such 
 incongruous marriages. 
 
240 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 
 
 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 
 a Moor, noble but barbaric, to live the life of a Venetian, 
 as the husband of a Venetian maid. His marriage 
 with Desdemona is the occasion of difficulty with one of 
 his 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 
 civilization he retained the rude instincts of his fathers. 
 Possessed of the highest intellectual training that the 
 , military life could give he was yet ungovemed 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 M\ 
 
 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 a 
 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- 
 tian culture to demand the highest honor of those about 
 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. 
 
2412 Hamlet, cm Ideal Prince 
 
 ' There need be no quarrel with Shakespeare about his 
 views of race inequahty. In the days of the opening 
 up of the new world, and of the discovery of new 
 peoples in the old, the European nowhere found evidence 
 of 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 
 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. C^>^C^|l,?,o '^ m- "■-*-'- ' -" ^ ''4'"^ 
 
 ^>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." ^ 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 
 gets into fatal difficulties with his Venetian subordinate 
 ^Eng. trans, in Furness, p. 384. 
 
Othello 343 
 
 and 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 inherent 
 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 bar baric 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- 
 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 OB" DESPOTISM 
 
CHAPTER V 
 KING LEAR: 
 
 A TKAGEDY OF DESPOTISM 
 
 THE play of Kmg 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 inchna- 
 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 stiU 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 Historie 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 Kimg 
 Lear. The reference to the Chronicle History has 
 disappeared, and the daughters a,re 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 ^f 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 
 
2i>0 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 
 
 as we should entertain at the idea that the heavenly 
 bodies might one day fall from their appointed 
 orbits." ^ 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." ^ 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." ^ 
 
 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 off'ering 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 
 
 ^Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature, English trans., 
 p. 413. 
 
 ^ Shakspere — His Mind and Art, p. 265, 13th edition. 
 'Op. cit. 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. 
 
 11 
 
 V The play is clearly Lear's story. It has been 
 thought by some that the Gloucester story is the first 
 
 . thread of the drama.^ 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- 
 '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.-*^ 
 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- 
 ' Of. Franz Horn, Furness's Variorum King Lear, pp. 451 -S. 
 
King Lear 
 
 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. -"^ 
 
 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- 
 _everj_conscifiiis.Qf..aii^L.Qtherj3afljiy£^Ij^ 
 fip1f_sjn1ply with gpnejamjly-r— '"■i^""gh 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 Kin g Lear were the dju^s of a bsolute 
 monarchs. This conception taken from an" earner" 
 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 
 
 ' Of. Tolstoi's curious conception of King Lear, in his essay 
 on Shakespeare. 
 
234 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 
 
 studied this problem of tyranny very carefully. The 
 effects of absolutism on the political and 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 Henri/ 
 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 Jvlvtis Ccesar he 
 had shown the danger of am bition fo r power, and" in 
 llfzHfS?tftrgSiefany~c6nsidere^ earlier than King Leax, 
 had'sKgwi TKow utt erly debasing an unscrupulous desire 
 for Tcings hip rnay 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 
 ' Op. cit., p. ISS. 
 
KiTtg 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, "0 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."^ 
 
 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 
 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 
 * Of. cit. p. 411. 
 
272 Hamlet, cm 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. ■'^ Others, 
 with much better reason say he became insane early in 
 the play.^ 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 
 Spf no value to siq)posedly^ aiie_pgrsons^ Shakespeare's 
 tragedies all tuni on moral not mental maladies, and 
 
 'Furness says that Mrs. Lennox was the earliest to say Lear 
 was made from the outset, in her Shakespeare Illustrated, 17S3-4. 
 (Furness, 412.) Of the same opinion are Brigham (Furness, 
 413-3) and Bucknill (Furness, 416-6). 
 
 ' E. g., Ray, ef. Furness, 413-14. 
 
King Lear 
 
 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 
 aU 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. Ijiofeodx^ 
 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 wasj 
 unbalanced by a long course of moral perversity and 
 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 that 
 led them astray, and in losing wits and eyes "the wheel 
 is come full circle." 
 
 Lear's mind is quite distracted by the time he meets 
 Edgar as "Poor Tom," 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- 
 sion from England. The wrong of Lear creates trouble 
 in hi?- 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 
 
 Cordelia at' no time drops out of the play entirely. 
 Her letter to Kent (H. 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, mi Ideal Prmce 
 
 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 
 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, tum'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 
 
 Cordelia on her part begs 
 y him of her goodwill, and 
 
 mit to taking poison from her 
 his fatherly blessing, assurinj^ 
 
 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- 
 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 
 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, j 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 2T&5 
 
 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 autocracy have given place to meekness 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." ^ 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- 
 ^ Shakespea/recm Tragedy, p. 385. 
 
280 Harrdet, am 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 Groneril and Regan and of 
 Edmund, joined as they are in vice, he brings them aU 
 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; 
 
 ' "Introduction to Shakespeare," 
 
Kmg 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 Cordeha 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 
 Herf ord is the most pronounced in saying that " 'Poetic 
 justice' is sublimely defied in the doom of Lear and Cor- 
 delia." ^ It remains for Professor Raleigh, however, 
 to suggest that Shakespeare's imagination ran away 
 with him. He says Shakespe are "had wound the 
 tr agedy up to such a pitch that, a happy en ding, as 
 — *Bversley iShakffipeaVi, V61. IX. p. Wl ' ~— 
 
282 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 
 
 it is called, was u nthinkable ." ^ Many of the older 
 -^ English and Greym an 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." ^ 
 
 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 sufi'ering 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.) 
 
 ' Shakespeare, p. "92. 
 
 " Professor Bradley is quite liopeless, 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 Wintei-'s Tale" (p. 252). A deeper study, however, will re- 
 veal great diflFerences 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 
 saj:e_Qt deati:a.jtiiem by a silent, inexorable fatality-''^* 
 "VThe death ofCordelia is"noT7^o^\^''a~^mprlfe7'1^ir# 
 very complex,Nmatter. She is first manifestly a victin ^ 
 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 haye taken steps v 
 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 at4 
 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 f rom \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 eiid, 
 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. 
 
284 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 
 
 tist's veriJict 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 
 jatiently resigns himself to the injustice done him at 
 |bhe instigation of Edmund. For this heroic faithful- 
 less Shakespeare spares him to the end and brings 
 fiim 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 King Lear, like all eighteenth cen- 
 tury versions of Shakespeare, is now-a-days pretty 
 
King 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 i'rance 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: 
 
 «AU friends shaU taste 
 The wages of their virtue, and all foes 
 The cup of their deservings." 
 
 (V. iii. 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. 
 
 vni 
 
 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.'^ It is very difficult to sympathize with 
 this opinion, for it involves an erroneous view of Kimg 
 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 hfe 
 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 «ei/-destructive : it sets these 
 beings at enmity. . . . Thus the world in which evil 
 appears seems to be at heart unfriendly to it." ^ 
 This is the fundamental Christian conception that evil 
 is the one great destroyer of men, and the unalterable 
 
 » A. E. Taylor, "The Case of Lear," University Magazine (Mon- 
 treal), VI, 3, April, 1907, pp. 206-335. 
 ' Bhakeap0ar0am Tragedy, p. 304. 
 
Kimg 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.^ Professor 
 Bradley has also said that "In no other of his trage- 
 dies does humanity appear more pitiably infirm or more 
 hopelessly bad." ^ Rather should we say that jt prj- 
 sents the moral world as inexorably ius jtn j^nrl _t]ia±- 
 fl is hopeless only to pe rsons who persist in _th e_SEaJKa- 
 jot evil, it life were the only desirable thing, there 
 would be onii y despair'for evil-doers, for Lear aad 
 Cctf'^gfer do hot__ save 7fe,eirZtives by chanffln^ their 
 'wSysT ' But tEejlajMJepicts an open way toward mora l 
 restor ation arid seems to promise redemption to al l 
 wEo~wiIt""forsake 3yJI. 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 fuU 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- 
 
 ^ Study of Shakespeare, pp. 171-2. 
 " Op. cit. p. 273. 
 
288 Hamlet, an Ideal Prince 
 
 proached 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 modem 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 
 
299, 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 Harrir- 
 let this dramatic exposition is unusually full and com- 
 plete, and should determine the modem 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 
 
isotes 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 
 
 • HOUATIO, 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.^ 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 bom," seems to imply that Horatio is not a 
 native. (I. iv. 15.) 
 ^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 hght 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 he 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, m. IV. 122-130 
 
 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 ISotes 
 
 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 
 lys 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 duU 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 stem 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 
 
 OTHEI.I,o's COLOa, 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 diff'erence 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." ^ 
 A few pages later, however — but in a footnote — he 
 admits that "The effect of difference in blood in in- 
 creasing Othello's bewilderment regarding his wife is 
 not sufficiently realized." ^ 
 
 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 
 
 ^Shakespearean Tragedy, p. 187. 
 '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. 73-3.) 
 
 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- u- 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 judgment maim'd, and most imperfect. _ 
 
 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. „„„ „o^ . 
 
 (I. m, 378-382.) 
 
 And noble signior. 
 If virtue no delighted beauty lack, 
 Your son-in-law is far more fair than black. 
 
 (I. m. 319-321.) 
 
 Desdemona. How if she be black and witty? 
 laqo. If she be black, and thereto have a wit. 
 
 She'll find a white, that shall her blackness fit. 
 
 (II. 1. loo-o.} 
 
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. 45-18.) 
 
 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 cUme, 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, recoUing to her better judgment. 
 
 May fall to match you with her country forms, 
 
 And happily repent (III. iii. 268-279.) 
 
 Haply, for I am black. 
 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 foUy: and she was a whore. 
 Emilia. Thou dost belie her, and thou art a deviL 
 
 (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. u. 194^6L) 
 
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 Ee- 
 venge. 
 
 Bacon, Francis, I6l. 
 
 Banishment, Hamlet's, 90, 
 98, 107-8, 110, 123. 
 
 Bassanio, 138, 139, 141, 
 142, 143, 144, 147, 150-1, 
 162, 153, 154, 167, 168, 
 169. 
 
 Belleforest, Francis de 
 {Hystorie of Hamhlei), 
 30, 31-2, S9, 49, 60, 62, 
 78, 120, 125. 
 
 Bestrafte Brudermord, Der. 
 Cf. German play of Ham- 
 let. 
 
 Bianca, 227. 
 
 Bible, Shakespeare and the, 
 188, 288. 
 
 Blachwood's Magasine, 206. 
 
 303 
 
304 
 
 Index \ 
 
 Bodenstedt, F., 201. ^• 
 
 Booths Edwin, on Shylock,; 
 148. 
 
 Brabantio, 105, 197, 198, 
 200, 203, 235, 236, 238. 
 
 Bradley, A. C, on Hamlet, 
 24, 82, 123; on iear, 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, 110; 
 and Folonius, 64, 84, 85, 
 86, 94; and Bosencrantz 
 and Guildenstern, QQ, 81, 
 88, 90, 108; as a fratri- 
 cide, 47, 59, 74, 95, 98-9, 
 104; at ^ayer, 100-3; 
 Character of, 47, 50-1, 52, 
 82, 87, 115, 116-7; Fear 
 of Hamlet, 77, 88, 98, 
 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 Clandius. 
 
 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, 280-9. 
 
 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. 
 
 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, 110, 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, 111, 
 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, 
 233, 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 Eomantic, 97, 177. 
 
 Dramatic art, Shakespeare'sj 
 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 Vejiice, 139- 
 142, 143; in Othello, 179- 
 181, 184, 185, 187, 188- 
 192. 
 
 Dryden, John, 175. 
 
 Duel, The (Hamlet and 
 Laertes ) , 112-3, 11 4-6, 
 117. 
 
 Duty, Hamlet and, 46, 54-6, 
 73, 82, 83, 93, 103, 104, 
 120. Cf. also Hamlet, 
 Task of. 
 
 Edgar, 265-6, 274, 284, 285. 
 Edinburgh Review, The, 
 
 174. 
 Edmund, 265-6, 279, 280, 
 
 284. 
 Election of £ing in Den-- 
 
 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. 
 EngUsh 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 (Sen- 
 
 tlemen at Exeter j 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, 123, 
 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; oi 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, 119; 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, l6l. 
 
 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, 1 05 ; 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, 2fl0, 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 of, politi- 
 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 ; Dnty ; 
 Father ; Fortinbras; 
 Ghost ; Hero ; Humor ; 
 Idealist ; 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. 
 
Indew 
 
 309 
 
 Henry the Fifth, 79, 124, 
 125, 254. 
 
 Heraud, J. A., 219, 234. 
 
 Herford, C. H., 204, 207, 
 223, 224, 281. 
 
 Hero, Elder Hamlet as a, 
 48-9; Hamlet as a, 31, 49, 
 76-8, 79, 110-11, 120-1, 
 124, 125; Passion and 
 deed of, 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, 61, 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, 61, 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 Eoderigo, 188, 
 
 194, 195, 196, 211, 217, 
 218, 219, 226, 231; and 
 the lieutenancy, 188, 221, 
 230, 289; 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, 97, 123, 
 124; Shakespeare an, 97- 
 
 Idle (foolish), 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, ISO, 131, 133- 
 1 34, 1 37 ; Shakespeare 
 and the, 130, 132-3, 134-5, 
 137, 138, 139, 147, 148, 
 164; The people and the, 
 180, 131, 132-3, 135, 147- 
 
 Johnson, Samuel, 14, 176, 
 177, 248, 280. 
 
 Johnson, C. F., 178. 
 
 Jonson, Ben, 12, 175. 
 
 Julius Ccesar, 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, 77j 
 84, 103, 111-2, 116, 117; 
 
 and Hamlet, 80, 87-8, 92, 
 112-114, 114-16, 116-17; 
 and Ophelia, 91, 92, 112; 
 and Polonius, 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; 
 Vanitv of, 257, 260, 265, 
 272, 273, 284. Cf. also 
 Cordelia and Lear; King 
 Lear; Madness. 
 
 Lennox, Mrs., 272. 
 
Indew 
 
 311 
 
 Lewis, C. M., 21, 24. 
 
 Lloyd, W. W., 234-5, 262. 
 
 Lopez, Dr., 135. 
 
 Lorenzo, 153, 168, 169, 201. 
 
 Love, as equality, IQS, 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, 216, 
 275. 
 
 Machiavellian villain, lago 
 a ? 215. 
 
 Madness, in drama, 65 ; of 
 Hamlet (feigned), 63-:5, 
 65-6, 70^ idiSrieY; 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, ISS, 145, 
 147, 205. 
 
 Marriage, of Jessica and 
 Lorenzo, 153, 168, l69; 
 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, 186, 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, l67;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 
 lieroes: Hamlet, 31,32,52, 
 53, 66, 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. 
 l^orality 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;Iago, 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, 1 1 ; ' 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, 86, 37-9, 
 40-3, 291-3; Lear, 251- 
 253; Merchant of Venice, 
 138-9, 139-143; Othello, 
 187-194, 
 
Index 
 
 Ophelia, 64, 68, 72-3, 85, 86, 
 
 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; Eela- 
 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-Q; 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, 
 94; and the play, 64, 84, 
 Qd; Cliaracter 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, 16S, 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, l64, 
 16G; 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 
 
 316 
 
 Richardson, William, 101. 
 Richard the Third, 125. 
 Roderigo, 188, 1^4, 195, 
 
 -i^, 211, 217, 218, 219, 
 
 220, 226, 2S1. 
 Romeo and Juliet, 40, 68, 
 
 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), SO, 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, 61. 
 Self-restraint, Hamlet's, 24, 
 
 31-2, 49, 56, 57, 77, 79, 
 
 80, 9S, 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 , 1 2 ; 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, 175; 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, l6l ; 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, 
 60, 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.