Some Remarks on the Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, Written by Mr. William Shakespeare | Page 7

Ancients, and hardly any of our Author's Plays, are built upon the Passion of Love in a direct Manner; by which I mean, that they have not the mutual Attachment of a Lover and his Mistress for their chief Basis. Love will always make a great Figure in Tragedy, if only its chief Branches be made use of; as for instance, Jealousy (as in _Othello_) or the beautiful Distress of Man and Wife (as in Romeo and _Juliet_) but never when the whole Play is founded upon two Lovers desiring to possess each other: And one of the Reasons for this seems to be, that this last Species of that Passion is more commonly met with than the former, and so consequently strikes us less. Add to this, that there may a Suspicion arise, that the Passion of Love in a direct Manner may be more sensual than in those Branches which I have mention'd; which Suspicion is sufficient to take from its Dignity, and lessen our Veneration for it. Of all _Shakespeare's_ Tragedies, none can surpass this, as to the noble Passions which it naturally raises in us. That the Reader may see what our Poet had to work upon, I shall insert the Plan of it as abridged from _Saxo-Grammaticus's_ Danish History by Mr. Theobalds. "The Historian calls our Poets Hero Amlethus, his Father Horwendillus, his Uncle Fengo, and his Mother Gerutha. The old King in single Combat, slew Collerus King of _Norway_; Fengo makes away with his Brother Horwendillus, and marries his Widow Gerutha. Amlethus, to avoid being suspected by his Uncle of Designs, assumes a Form of utter Madness. A fine Woman is planted upon him, to try if he would yield to the Impressions of Love. Fengo contrives, that Amlethus, in order to sound him, should be closetted by his Mother. A Man is conceal'd in the Rushes to overhear their Discourse; whom Amlethus discovers and kills. When the Queen is frighted at this Behaviour of his; he tasks her about her criminal Course of Life, and incestuous Conversation with her former Husband's Murtherer; confesses his Madness is but counterfeited, to protect himself, and secure his Revenge for his Father; to which he injoins the Queen's Silence. Fengo sends Amlethus to _Britain_: Two of the King's Servants attend him with Letters to the British King, stricyly pressing the Death of Amlethus, who, in the Night Time, coming at their Commission, overreads it, forms a new One, and turns the Destruction designed towards himself on the Bearers of the Letters. Amlethus returning Home, by a Wile surprizes and kills his Uncle." I shall have Occasion to remark in the Sequel, that in one Particular he has follow'd the Plan so closely as to produce an Absurdity in his Plot. And I must premise also this, that in my Examination of the whole Conduct of the Play, the Reader must not be surprised, if I censure any Part of it, although it be entirely in Conformity to the Plan the Author has chosen; because it is easy to conceive, that a Poet's Judgment is particularly shewn in chusing the proper Circumstances, and rejecting the improper Ones of the Ground-work which he raises his Play upon. In general we are to take Notice, that as History ran very low in his Days, most of his Plays are founded upon some old wretched Chronicler, or some empty Italian Novelist; but the more base and mean were his Materials, so much more ought we to admire His Skill, Who has been able to work up his Pieces to such Sublimity from such low Originals. Had he had the Advantages of many of his Successors, ought not we to believe, that he would have made the greatest Use of them? I shall not insist upon the Merit of those who first break through the thick Mist of Barbarism in Poetry, which was so strong about the Time our Poet writ, because this must be easily sensible to every Reader who has the least Tincture of Letters; but thus much we must observe, that before his Time there were very few (if any) Dramatick Performances of any Tragick Writer, which deserve to be remembred; so much were all the noble Originals of Antiquity buried in Oblivion. One would think that the Works of Sophocles, Euripides, &c. were Discoveries of the last Age only; and not that they had existed for so many Centuries. There is something very astonishing in the general Ignorance and Dullness of Taste, which for so long a Time over-spread the World, after it had been so gloriously enlighten'd by Athens and _Rome_; especially as so many of their excellent Master-pieces were still remaining, which one would have thought should have excited even the Brutes of those barbarous Ages