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

OKS, Louisiana State

versity ARTHUR FRIEDMA

sity of Minnesota JAME

ge, L

supplied by author by E

chigan, U

ODUC

that it may be called impossible" (Shakespeare as a Dramatic Artist, 60). I have elsewhere set down reasons for my own belief that Hanmer could have had nothing to do with the composition of the essay, arguing on grounds of ideas, attitudes, style, and other internal evidence ("Thomas Hanmer and the Anonymous Essay on Hamlet," _MLN_61 [1934], 493-498). Without going over the case again, I wish here merely to reaffirm my conviction that Hanmer was not the author, and to say that it would seem that the difference in styles and the attitude of Anonymous toward Pope and Theobald are alone convinci

e idea that Hanmer was in any way connected with it and safely speak of "the author" or "the anonymous author"; I recall only one case in recent years of an all-out, incautious assignment o

ury pamphlet. Present-day students of Shakespeare, among them D.N. Smith, Lounsbury, Babcock, Lawrence, and Stoll have treated the essay with unvarying respect. Remarking that it anticipates some of Johnson's arguments, Smith calls it in general a "well-written, interesting book" greatly superior to the anonymous essay on Hamlet of 1752 (Eighteenth Century Essays on Shakespeare, xxn

it is a sort of landmark in Shakespearian literature. Standing chronologically almost midway between Dryden and Johnson, Kames, and Richardson, the Remarks shows decisively the direction in which criticism, under the steadily mounting pressure of liberal, empirical thought, is traveling. This little unpretentious book gathers into itself, either in faint adumbra

His announced over-all rule is conformity to "Reason and Nature"-old words that he uses in the newer way. But he is also handily equipped with a stock of st

and slips in decorum; will have no truck with tragi-comedy in any of its forms. He hates puns and bombast, demands refinement in speech and restraint in manners. He regards Hamlet's speeches to Ophelia in the Player scene as a violation of propriety, is shocked by the lack of decency in the representation of Ophelia's madness, finds Hamlet's freq

be very cautious in finding Fault with Men of such exalted Genius as our Author certainly was, lest we should blame them when in reality the Fault lies in our own slow Conceptions ..

those things which charm by a certain secret Force, and strike us we know not how, or why; I believe it will not be disagreeable, if I shew to everyone the Reason why they are pleas'd ..." This, it need hardly be observed, is all pretty much in the vein of Addison, whom the author extols and whose papers on Paradise Lost, he tells us, have furnished a model for the present undertaking. Throughout his criticism Addison had deprecated mere fault-finding and had urged the positive approach of emphasis on beauties. In the last twelve essays on Milton's poem he had shown a new way in critical writing, the way of particular as opposed to general criticism, with the

al rational and universal order, which art reveals and to which art at its best conforms. To Anonymous, who in this is following the lead of the Hobbian school, the nature that is the norm by which Shakespeare is to be judged is merely human nature, used as Whately, Richardson, and Morgann are to use it later, and as Johnson uses it when he argues that there is an appeal open from custom to nature. Anonymous' interest is in the way the mind works and the way people customarily act. So also when he talks about reason, he is thinking only of what is acceptable to a logical, healthy mind. He has no t

ecific and particular investigation that turns its attention to basic human behavior and the basic ways of the mind as the criterion by which to judge artistic representation. No need now for quaint parallels with the ancients to justify modern practice, nor for scholarly arguments to prove learning; all that is required is to prove adherence to common nature and common rationality. This is the ground upon which Anonymous stands, and it is the ground upon which Morgann is to stand when he gives us

to be sure, demands that actions and speeches shall be "natural"-but natural within the framework of the situation and character as established by the dramatist on the imaginative level. The author's words on illusion recall the passage in Dryden about reason's suffering itself to be "hoodwinked" by imaginative presentation, foreshadow Coleridge's "willing suspension of disbelief," and directly suggest Johnson's passages on the subject. Experience will s

is proved by the success they have so long enjoyed. Sublimity of sentiments, exalted diction, and "in short all the Charms of his Poetry, far outweigh any little absurdities in his Plots." He knew how to work up "great and moving Circumstances in such a Way as to affect our Pas

shall find it is necessary towards the whole plot of the Play"; he speaks of I, iv as an "important Scene, on which turns the Whole Play"; the killing of Polonious, he explains, "was in Conformity to the Plan Shakespeare built his Play upon"; and finally, of the piece as a whole, he asserts that "there is not one Scene but what some way or other conduces toward the Denoument of the Whole; and thus the Unity of Action is indis

reshadow the later vogue but none of it very remarkable. More worthy of notice is the author's use of a psychological method that is to reappear in developed form in Coleridge: that is, a study of successive scenes leading to a climactic moment-in this case Hamlet's meeting with the ghost-

at an answer. Anonymous in no wise approves of Hamlet's madness: it was, he thinks, the best possible way to thwart his design of revenge and it was carried on with unseemly lack of dignity. Shakespeare has followed his sources too closely, with bad results. There appears "no Reason at all in Nature, why the young prince did not put the Usurper to Death a

e fruitful study of his author. Because of this and its prevailing sound critical qualities the anonymous essay ranks with the more important Shakespearian documents of the century. The editors of the Augustan Reprints are to be commended for their decision to give it a pl

Michigan Cla

eum copy by permission of The

derstand by Criticism, finding fault with a Work; and from thence, when we call a Man a Critick, we usually mean, one disposed to blame, and seldom to commend. Whereas in Truth, a real Critick, in the proper Sense of that Word, is one whose consta

so far from being the Characteristicks of a true Critick, that they are the certai

this Stamp, when they undertake to explain or comment upon any Writer, they will not allow him to have any Defects; nay, so far from that, they find out Beauties i

for his Papers upon Milton's Paradise Lost, _I look upon as the true Model for all Criticks to follow.

any ways follow such a Guide, though at ever so great a Distance; since I am well persuaded, that by

justly boast of the compleatest Essay on that Subject that has been publish'd in any Language, in which almost every Line, and every Word, conve

that great Sub

think so. Besides, these Papers are too few to contain them; and I have so little of Presumption in me, that I did not think it re

lse is necessary to premise, will be found in th

*

KS ON THE

rince of

ne one of the Pieces of the greatest Tragick Writer that ever liv'd, (except Sophocles and Euripides,) according to the Rules of Reason and

st Writers, I shall particularly dwell upon those which they have the least insisted

most unbounded Genius, ver

to it self from its very first setting out in the Play, quite to the End. And still further, no Poet ever came up to him, in the Nob

invent; yet he is so remarkably happy in following of Nature, that (if I may so express it) he does it even in Characters which are not in Nature. To clear up th

l deserve my Reader's Thanks, who will thereby, I imagine, receive that Pleasure which I have always done upon any new Discovery of this sort, whether made by my own Labour, or by the Penetration of others: And as to those Things which charm by a certain secret Force, and strike us we k

his Understanding, and no Ways at the Expence of his Honesty and Virtue. In the Course of these Remarks, I shall make use of the Edition of this Poet, given us by Mr. Theobalds, because he is generally thought to have understood our Author best, and certainly deserves the Applause of all his Countrymen for the great Pains he has been at to give us the best Edition of this Poet, which has yet appear'd.

Suspicion is sufficient to take from its Dignity, and lessen our Veneration for it. Of all Shakespeare's Tragedies, none can surpass this, as to the noble Passions which it naturally raises in us. That the Reader may see what our Poet had to work upon, I shall insert the Plan of it as abridged from Saxo-Grammaticus's Danish History by Mr. Theobalds. "The Historian calls our Poets Hero Amlethus, his Father Horwendillus, his Uncle Fengo, and his Mother Gerutha. The old King in single Combat, slew Collerus King of Norway; Fengo makes away with his Brother Horwendillus, and marries his Widow Gerutha. Amlethus, to avoid being suspected by his Uncle of Designs, assumes a Form of utter Madness. A fine Woman is planted upon him, to try if he would yield to the Impressions of Love. Fengo contrives, that Amlethus, in order to sound him, should be closetted by his Mother. A Man is conceal'd in the Rushes to overhear their Discourse; whom Amlethus discovers and kills. When the Queen is frighted at this Behaviour of his; he tasks her about her criminal Course of Life, and incestuous Conversation with her former Husband's Murtherer; confesses his Madness is but counterfeited, to protect himself, and secure his Revenge for his Father; to which he injoins the Queen's Silence. Fengo sends Amlethus to Britain: Two of the King's Servants attend him with Letters to the British King, stricyly pressing the Death of Amlethus, who, in the Night Time, coming at their Commission, overreads it, forms a new One, and turns the Destruction designed towards himself on the Bearers of the Letters. Amlethus returning Home, by a Wile surprizes and kills his Uncle." I shall have Occasion to remark in the Sequel, that in one Particular he has follow'd the Plan so closely as to produce an Absurdity in his Plot. And I must premise also this, that in my Examination of the whole Conduct

f Mr. Theobald

e 2

EN

Francisco,

. Who's

e preparatory Discourse to the Ghost's coming in, at the same Time that it is necessary towards laying open the Scheme of the Play, creates an Awe and Attention in the Spectators, such as very well fits them to receive the Appearance of a Messenger from the other World, with all the Terror and Seriousness necessary on the Occasion. And surely the Poet has manag'd the Whole in such a Man

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O says 'tis but

let Belief ta

readed Sight tw

have intreat

ch the Minutes

in this App

e our Eyes, a

, Tush, 'twil

upernatural or improbable, is much more likely to gain Credit with us, if it be introduced as such, and talk'd of as such by the Persons of the Drama, but at last prov'd to be true, tho' an extraordinary Thing, than if it were brought in as a Thing highly probable, and no one were made to boggle at the Belief of it. The Reason of this seems

e 2

the

convinces Horatio, to save Marcellos the Trouble of repeating the whole Story, which would have been ti

he Apparition are excee

ed to the Occasion a

hat fair and warlike Form, In which the Majesty of buried Denmar

er is P

ay Il

any Sound, or

k to

any good Thi

ee do Ease, an

k to

rivy to thy C

y, Fore-knowi

Spe

ast uphoarde

sure in the W

ay, you Spirits o

ay and speak!-S

to stop it, is also muc

of Mind, very much to

know, being a Scholar,

e stopp'd as Corpor

eturn to

oratio! you tremble

du'd with Fortitude, could see so strange a Sight, so shocking to human Nature, without so

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my God, I might

sensible and

ne ow

our Deception, for the Re

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s the very Armou

or it, viz. We are to consider, that he could introduce him in these Dresses only; in his Regal Dress, in a Habit of Interment, in a common Habit, or in some Phantastick one of his own Inve

he Habit of Interment was something too horrible; for Terror, not Horror, is to be raised in the Spectat

this certainly could not be proper, because Invention in such a Case, would be

t was very suitable to

is very particular, and

ng phantastick. Besides

which arises from the

on e

e very Armo

ambitious No

once, when i

sleaded Polac

Str

Nature in Horatio's b

ng, and falling into

h is inimitab

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Good now si

he Whole; I mean, That wherein Hamlet makes those noble Reflections upon seeing That Prince's Army. Besides, this Discourse is necessary also to give the Ghost Time to appear again, in order to affect the Spectators still more;

ge

llusio

ome, and the drawing a like Inference from this sup

230

bout to speak when

ful, and are properly Marks of a great Genius; as also these Lin

Russet Mantle clad, Walks oe'r

glish at that Time, so far from being low, it adds a Grace and a Na?veté to the who

lace, (p. 231

ing, Queen,

It would else have too soon revolted the Spectators against such an unusual Proceeding. All the Speeches of the King in this Scene to his Ambassadors Cornelius and Voltimand, and to Laertes, and to Prin

e, and of his virtuous Character; for we are hereby informed of his fixed and strong Grief for the Loss of his Father: For it does

to have been done in the same Manner, as several things of the like Nature have been effected,

nce is Thirty Years old; my Reasons are, that as Wittenberg was an University, and Hamlet is represented as a Prince of great Accomplishments, it is no wonder that he should like to spend his Time there, in going on in his Improvements, rather than to remain inactive at Elsinoor, or be immers'd in Sottishness, with which he s

t, we see this Prince at the Head of that Army, which immediately, upon the Embassy from the Danish King to his Uncle, we are naturally to suppose he leads to that other Enterprize which is mentioned in that Scene. Now it is no ways likely, that between the Embassy and the m

tablishment, thus antedating its Time, I shall not justify Shakespeare; I think it is a fault in him; b

Passage, and shall subjoin the Remarks of a very emin

o, too solid Fl

solve it sel

Everlasting

st Self-slaughte

stale, and

ll the Uses

ie! 'tis an un

Seed; Things

Nat

ly. That it sho

hs dead! Nay

t

a King, tha

Satyr: So Lovi

not let e'en

av

too roughly. He

er? Why, she

i

se of Appeti

ed on; yet w

hink. Frailt

ma

e'er yet those

e follow'd my

o

ll Tears; Why

Beast that w

Rea

urn'd longer)

e U

rother; but n

th

ercules. Wi

alt of most un

flushing in h

Oh! most wi

o

terity to inc

or it cannot

Heart, for I

ng

er, no less exquisitely described; the great and amiable Figure of his dead Parent, drawn by a true Filial Piety; his Disdain of so unworthy a Successor to his Bed: But above all, the Shortness of the Time between his Father's Death, and his Mother's Second Marriage, brought together with so much Disorder, make up as noble a Part as any in that celebrated Tragedy. The Circumstance of Time I never could enough admire. The Widow-hood had lasted two Months. This is his first Reflection: But as his Indignation rises, he sinks to scarce two Mo

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ernardo, and Mar

easy, and expresses the benign Disposition of the Prince, a

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to drink deep,

he Usurper, as will appear in the Sequel; and gives us one Reason why Elsinoor was disagreeable to

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to be one of the principal Causes of the deep fix'd Concern so visible in his Behaviour

o the End o

icularly his breaking off from the Consequence of his Question, viz. Hold you the Watch to

pectre staid, throws an Air of Probability on th

s Reflection upon his Father's Spirit appearing in Arms, is such as one would naturally expect from him; and the Moral Sentence he ends his

e End of the Sc

Poloniu

Ophelia, and aft

ys; but is by no Means excusable in a Man, supposed to be in such a Station as Polonius is, Nay, granting that such Ministers of State were common, (which surely they are not) it would even then be a Fault in our Author to introduce them in such Pieces as this; for every Thing that is natural is not to be made use of improperly: But when it is out of Nature, this certainly much aggravates the Poet's Mistake. And, to speak Truth, all Comick Circumstances, all Things tending to raise a Laugh, are highly offensive in Tragedies to good Judges; the Reason in my Opinion is evident, viz. that such Things degrade the Majesty and Dignity of Tragedy, and dest

n the Word Tender p. 244. (of which too he is sensible himself,) our old Statesman behaves suit

ss'd in the most nervous and poetical Manner, and is full of Beauties; par

igal enough, If She unmas

general in our Author's Plays, that almost all his young Women (who are designed as good Characters) are made to behave with a Modesty and Decency peculiar to those Times,

Judge of Nature, to design any Thing Comick or Buffoonish upon so solemn an Occasion, as that of a Son's taking leave of his Father in the most emphatical and serious Manner. And therefore, whatever Actor proceeds upon this Supposition (as I have seen some do in parallel Cases) does only shew his Ignorance and Presumption. This Assertion of mine will appear indisputable, if my Reader

towards the whole Plot of the Play, and is by no Means an Episode.

ge

latform befo

, Horatio an

for it would have been improper to have had the Ghost appear the Minute the Prince was come on to the Platform. Some Time was requisite to prepare the Minds of the Spectators, that they might collect all their Faculties to behold this important Scene, on which turns the whole Play, with due Attention and Seriousness;

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the

much Beauty and Art the Poet has managed it. This Spectre has been once spoken to by the Friend of our young Hero, and it must be confessed, that Horatio's Speech to it is truly great and beautiful: But as the like Incident was again to happen; that is, as the Ghost was again to be addressed, and with this Addition, by the Hero of the Play, and Son to the King, wh

this Prince, and gives an Air of Probability to the whole Scene. He accosts the Ghost with great Intrepidity; and his whole Speech is so full of the Marks of his Filial Piety, that we may easily observe, that his

Friends with that Vehe

ear what his Father coul

is Filial

as not a Secret of a Nature fit to be divulg'd. Their earnest Intreaties, and almost Force which they use to keep him from going, are

ch Gravity and Weight of Language as well suits his Condition. The Ideas he raises in the Audience by his short Hint concerning the Secrets of his Prison-House, ar

nted with the Affair, are great Beauties in this Scene, because it is all entirely conformable to Nature; that is, to tho

explained it, and that consequently his Soul was to suffer, if not eternal Damnation, at least a long Course of Penance in Purgatory; which aggravates the Circumstances of his Brother's Barbarity. And, Secondly, That Denmark might not be the Scene of Usurpation and Incest, and the Throne thus polluted and profaned. For these Reasons he prompts

f our Nation. The Ghost's Interrupting himself (but soft, methinks, I scent the Morning Air, &c.) has much Beauty in it, particularly, as it

erence with the Phantom, and his putting them off from knowing it, with his Caution concerning his future Conduct, and his intreating them to be silent in Relation to this whole Affair; all this, I say, is natural and right; but his light

nd all that can be said for it (as far as I am able to penetrate), is that he makes the Prince put on this Levity of Behaviour, that the Gentlemen who were with him, might not imagine that the Ghost had reveal'd some Matter of great Consequence to him, and that he might not therefore be suspected of any deep Designs. This appears plausibl

ability, and where such an Apparition is manag'd with so much Dignity and Art; in short, which so little revolts the Judgment and Belief of the Spectators. Nor have I ever met in all my Reading, with a Scene in any Tragedy, which creates so much Awe, and serious Attention as this does, and which raises such a Multiplicity of the most exalted S

T

ynoldo, and aft

is useful to the Audience. His forgetting what he was saying, (p. 260) as

s any Passage in the whole Play, (p. 261, and 262.) It is excellently good i

sign in so doing, it seems to have been the most likely Way of getting himself confin'd, and consequently, debarr'd from an Opportunity of Revenging his Father's Death, which now seem'd to be his only Aim; and accordingly it was the Occasion of his being sent away to England. Which Design, had it taken effect upon his Life, he never could have r

o do in parallel Circumstances, there would have been an End of our Play. The Poet therefore wa

s, because by this Means he might be thought to be mad for her, and not that

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n, Rosincrantz,

as to no Purpose to endeavour to sound his Mind; and the shortest and best Way, and what, methinks, the King ought mo

lation to her Son, but mere Affection; which, consi

bassy to Norway, was

brass, in the Sequel,

ay winds up all

here he pretends to have discovered the Cause of the Prince's Madness, and woul

one; for here the Poet in Hamlet's Case, was to paint such a Species of Madness as should not give cause of Suspicion of the real Grief which had taken Possession of the Prince's Mind. His Behaviour to those two Courtiers, whom the Usurper had sent to dive into his Secret, is very natural and just, because his chief Business was to baffle their Enquiries, as he does

hout any Thing of the Comick; although it is difficult, as I said, to describe a

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ers is conducive to t

with great Beauty. We

e Prince, and one of

o doubt, to ridicule som

hapel, is not allowable in Tragedy, which is never to be a Satire upon any modern particular Foible or

y it we see that the Poet himself seems sensible of the Fault in his Plot. But tha

confirming by the Pla

ainly well imagin'd; bu

be accidental, it could

la

T

e 2

hat Speech doth giv

m stung with the deepest Remorse, upon the least Sentence that can any ways be supposed to relate to his Crime. How Instructive this is to the

ith Ophelia, we may obs

oper that the Prince s

ad he conversed with hi

uld not

ctions to this Part of the Prince's Madness, that I have before mentioned, viz. that it wants Dignity. Ophelia's melancholy Reflections upon Hamlet's having lost his Sovereignty of Reason, is natural an

a very proper Occasion to animadvert upon those Faults which were disagreeable to him. Whoever reads these Observations of his, if one may prove a Thing by a negative Argu

e these Remarks, yet I cannot think them agreeable in such a Piece as this; they ar

292,

ehaviour at the Play, is very naturally introduc'd as a prudent Desire of the Prince's. The Friendship of Eneas for Achates in the Eneid, is found Fault with much for the same Reasons that some Criticks might carp at this of Hamlet's for Horatio, viz. that neither of them are found to perform any grea

is Discourses to Ophelia, without being thought too severe. The Scene represented by the Players is in wretched Verse. This we may, without incurring the Denomination of an ill-natur'd Critick, venture to pronounce, that in almost every Place where Shakespeare has attempted Rhime, either in the Body of his Plays,

y upon seeing the Resemblance of his own foul Crime, is very mu

e 3

ce that the Poet has mix'd a Vein of Humour in the Prince's Character, which is to be seen in many Places of this Play. W

e 3

ng to his Mother, is beautifully exp

306

portance of the King's Life, is

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present at; but I do not well see how Hamlet is introduced so as to find him at Prayers. It is not natural, that a King's P

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ntance; this surely, in a Christian Prince, is such a Piece of Revenge, as no Tenderness for any Parent can justify. To put the Usurper to Death, to deprive him of the Fruits of his vile Crime, and to rescue the Throne of Denmark from Pollution, was highly requisite: But there our young Prince's Desires s

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nd Polonius, and

ead, speaks with that Force and Assurance which Virtue always gives; and yet manages his Expressions so as not to treat his Mother in a disrespectful Manner. What can be expressed with more Beauty and more Dignity, than the Difference between his Uncle and Father! The Contrast in the D

to this Scene, which works up in the Minds of the Audience all the Passions which do the greatest Honour to human Nature. Add t

Loss of her Reason. Besides that, I believe, the Poet had also some Eye to a vulgar Notion, that Spirits are only seen by those with whom their Business is, let there be never so man

c. His Form and C

bring her to Repentance. In a Word, We have in this important Scene, our Indignation raised against a vile Murderer, our Compassion caus'd for the inhuman Death of a virtuous Prince;

ion, viz. This Counsellor, &c. It has too much Levity in it; and his tugging him away into another Room, is unbecoming the Gravity of the rest of the Scene, and is a Circumstance too much calculated to raise a Laugh, which it always does. We must observe, that Polonius is far

fourth, p 320 and Sequel,) concerning P

er Fortinbras

er so far impose on our Knowledge, and our Senses, as to imagine the Stage to contain an Army: Therefore in such a Case, the Recital of it, or seeing the Commander, and an Officer or Two of it, is the best Method of conducting such a Circumstance. Fo

s Father's (which from the Queen, it is to be supposed he was acquainted with all the Circumstances of) could never justify him in any treacherous Practices. It is a very nice Conduct in the Poet to make the Usurper build his Scheme upon the generous unsuspicious Temper of the Person he intends

and more Decency. Mistakes are less tolerable from such a Genius as Shakespeare's and especially in the very Pieces which give us such strong Proofs of his exalted Capacity. Mr. Warburton

T

ble Opinion, is very unbecoming such a Piece as this, and is only pardonable as i

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ch was to have fallen upon himself. It was possible, but not very probable; because methinks, their Commission was kept in a very negligent Manner, to be thus got from them with

at young Women run mad for the Loss of their Fathers. It is more natural to suppose, that like Chimene in the Cid, her great S

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to Passions of greater Weight and Force, and here is suffered to break out chiefly, as it is necessary towards the Winding up of the Piece. It is but an Under-Passion in the Play, and seems to be introduced m

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atire upon the young Courtiers of those Days, and is hum

ge, is beautiful; and we are to note, that our Author in several of his Plays, has brought in the chief Personages as havin

ery naturally brought about; although I do not conceive it to be so

test Rules of Justice, for she loses her Life by the Villany

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t own, that he has very naturally effected it, and still ad

survive his Friend, gives a stronger Idea of his Friendship for Hamlet in the few Lines on that Occasion, than many Actions or Expressions could possibly have done. And Hamlet's begging him to draw his Breath in this Harsh World a little longer, to clear his Reputation and manifest his Innocen

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assadors fro

l we have

ratio

Mouth, He n

ng what Horatio says, who knew the whole Affair, and then his Answer is just and true; and inde

his, and in all Points, suitably to the manly, honest Character under which he is drawn throughout the whole Piece. Besides, it gives a sort of Content to the Audience, tha

of Denmark, as he had the dying Voice of the Prince. He in few Words gives a noble Character of Hamlet

he followed as his Conductress; and therefore it has been with regard to her only, that I have considered this Tragedy. It is not to be denied, but that Shakespeare's Dramatic Works are in general very much mix'd; his Gold is strangely mingled with Dross in most of his Pieces. He fell too much into the low Taste of the Age he liv'd in, which delighted in miserable Puns, low Wit, and affected sententious Maxims; and what is most unpardonable in him, he has interspersed his noblest Productions with this Poorness of Thought. This I have shewn in my Remarks on this Play. Yet, notwithstanding the Defects I have pointed out, it is, I think, beyond Dispute, that there is much less of this in Hamlet than in any of his Plays; and that the Language in the Whole, is much more pure, and much more free from Obscurity or Bombast, than any of our Author's Trag

thou pursues

f the Plan he work'd upon; especially as he has conducted it in so sublime a Manner, an

ht about the Punishment of the guilty Queen by the very Person who caus

eces wherein the fantastick Rules of Criticks have been kept strictly to, have been generally flat and low. We are to consider, that no Dramatick Piece can affect us but by the Delusion of our Imagination; which, to taste true and real Pleasures at such Representations, must undergo very great Impositions, even such as in Speculation seem very gross, but which are nevertheless allowed of by the strictest Criticks. In the first Place, our Understandings are never shocked at hearing all Nations, on our Stage, speak English; an Absurdity one would think that should immediately revolt us; but which is, however, absolutely necessary in all Countries where Dramatick Performances are resorted to, unless the Characters be always supposed to be of each respective Nation; as for instance, in all Shakespeare's Historical Plays. I say, this never shocks us nor do we find any Difficulty in believing the Stage to be Rome, (or Denmark, for instance, as in this Play;) or Wilks to be Hamlet, or Booth to be a Ghost, &c. These Things, I repeat it, appear difficult in Speculation; but we find, that in Reality they do go down; and must necessarily do so, or else farewel all Dramatic

Boors and Peasants may delight the Populace, but those of better Sort must have Delicacy in that Passion to see it represented with any tolerable Patience. The same is to be said of Jealousy and Revenge, which are indeed felt by all, but in Breasts well educated are felt with sharper Pangs, and are combated with more Vehemence, and from more and greater Motives; therefore such People are fitter to judge, and more likely to be taken with noble and sublime Representations of such Incidents. I need not observe, that the Vulgar cannot judge of the Historical Propriety of a great Character, This is obvious to every one; nor can they judge of the Passion of Ambition, as it has Power with Princes and great Men, because not being versed by Reading in parallel Stories, and not being in such a Situation of Life, as to feel the Torments of such Passions, they cannot certainly tell whether such Things are represented with proper Circumstances, and proper Consequences drawn from them. And moreover, as all Men are by Nature more prone to some Passions than to others, This must cause Variety of Sentiments in relation to the same Piece. Besides all this, we may be very certain that different Education, different Degrees of Understanding, and of the Passions common to all Men, must cause a Variety of Sentiments concerning such Representations. To prove this, let us observe how the Tastes of Nations differ in relation to these Things; so much, that one would be tempted sometimes to think, that they did not all partake of the same Passions; but certainly they vary in the Degrees of them; therefore by a Parity of Reason we may justly conclude, that Difference of Education among those of the same Nation must affect their Passions and Sentiments. The better sort have (if one may so express it) some acquired Passions which the lower sort are ignorant of. Thus indeed it seems at first Sight; but on a nearer View they are found to be, as I said, the same Passions augmented or refined, and turned upon ot

Scene can be omitted, without Prejudice to the Whole. Even Laertes going to France, and Ophelia's Madness, however trivial they may seem (and how much soever I dislike the Method of that last mentioned) are Incidents absolutely necessary towards the concluding of all; as will appear to any one upon due Consideration. This all holds good, notwithstanding it is my Opinion, that several of the Scenes might have been altered by our Author for the better; but as they all stand, it is, as I said, quite impossible to separate them, without a visible Prejudice to

thoroughly Virtuous as to claim a Reward in Tragedy, or to have Reason to repine at the Dispensations of Providence; and it is besides more Instructive to the Audience, because it abates the Insolence of Human Nature, and teaches us

hristian Country. Besides, had it pleased our Author to have spared Hamlet's Life, we had been deprived of that pleasing Sensation which always (as I have else where observed) accompanies a Consciousness that we are

Beauty of the Piece. This is sometimes so much the Case, that Action is often absolutely necessary. And to come more particularly to the Subject now in hand, I desire any unprejudiced Man, of any Nation whatever, (if such can be found) who understands our Language, to consider whether the Appearance of the Ghost, and the Deaths of the several principal Personages, (with wh

s, they are hardly able to bear any Subjects which turn upon the weightier Passions; such as Ambition, Revenge, Jealousy, &c. The Form of their Government, indeed, is of such a Nature, that many Subjects cannot be treated as they ought, nor work'd up to that Height which they are here, and were formerly at Athens, &c. and Love, for that Reason among others is made to be the Basis of almost all their Tragedies. Nay, the Education of the People under such a Government, prevents their delighting in such Performances as pleased an Athenian or a Roman, and now delight us Britons. Thus every Thing conduces to debase Tragedy among them, as every Thing here contributes to form good Tragick Writers; yet how few have we! And what is very remarkable, each Nation takes Delight in that, which, in the Main, they the least excel in, and are the least fit for. The Audience in England is generally more crowded at a Comedy, and in France at a Tra

NI

nonymously, in 1736, with

by / Mr. William Shakespeare. / [double rule enclosing a printer's device] /

for sale by John Russell Smith, with an identical

carce Pieces

o. 1. Remark