III. Craft.

The word craft properly signifies art, ability, dexterity, skill, as well as cunning and dissimulation—and all these qualities have a close relation to discretion.

The pretended madness of Hamlet is therefore illustrative of the theme; just as the real madness of Lear is illustrative of the theme of that play. The dissimulation of Hamlet, however, is not such as to lessen our esteem for his character. Surrounded as he is with spies and enemies, we feel that it is a justifiable stratagem. It is worthy of remark that Edgar employs a similar means of defense in the Play of King Lear; and that as Shakspeare’s love of contrast has led him thus to oppose the assumed madness of Edgar to the real madness of Lear, so here we have the real madness of Ophelia opposed to the assumed madness of Hamlet.

Hamlet displays craft also (but still a justifiable craft,) in his device of the play, “to catch the conscience of the king.” And when he has succeeded, he triumphs in this proof of his own skill, with a very natural vanity. “Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers, (if the rest of my fortunes turn Turk with me,) etc., get me a fellowship in a cry of players?” In his interview with his mother, (the picture scene,) he dwells chiefly on her want of discernment; and, at the conclusion of the scene, alluding to his “two schoolfellows,” he boasts that he will “delve one yard below their mines, and blow them at the moon;” a feat which he very fully accomplishes. But after all he feels and acknowledges that he is a mere instrument in the hands of a higher power.

Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well,

When our deep plots do pall; and that should teach us,

There’s a divinity that shapes our ends,

Rough hew them how we will.

And when Horatio endeavors to dissuade him from fencing with Laertes, because he acknowledges a foreboding of evil he replies: “Not a whit, we defy augury; there is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, ’tis not to come; if it be not to come it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come; the readiness is all.” These solemn sentiments were a fit prelude to the tragic fate upon which he was rushing.

Polonius frequently boasts of his own discernment. As when he says to the king:

Hath there been such a time (I’d fain know that,)

That I have positively said ’tis so;

When it proved otherwise.

And though he was mistaken as to the cause of Hamlet’s madness, he reasoned justly on the subject, and erred in his conclusion only because there was a supernatural cause at work, which he could not penetrate. The king also dwells on the same topic (skill or management,) in many places, and especially in his several conversations with Laertes.

But I must hasten to a conclusion; hoping that I have awakened sufficient interest in the reader’s mind to induce him to pursue the subject with the play before him; and assuring him that he will find the theme in some one of its various phases, ever present; from the sentinel’s challenge at the beginning, to the speech of Fortinbras on propriety at the end; in the love-letter of Hamlet; in the carol of Ophelia; in the doggerel song of the old grave-digger; and every where else.

A glance at the progress of the play will show that the theme, like the plot and the characters, is gradually developed. A brief notice of the contents of each act will make this apparent.

Act first.—This act is wholly occupied with matters of an inquisitive character, and lectures on reserve and prudence.

Act second.—Craft is the characteristic of this act. Reynaldo is appointed a spy upon Laertes: Hamlet begins to play the madman: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are appointed spies upon Hamlet: Polonius and the king resolve to secrete themselves where they can overhear Hamlet talking with Ophelia: and Hamlet conceives the project of using the players to make the king betray his own guilt. The object of all these plots, however, it will be observed, is merely to gain information.

Act third.—In this act the several plots formed in the last, are carried into execution.

Act fourth.—Here the subject assumes a more serious aspect; Ophelia’s indiscreet love ends in madness and death: Laertes, who has heretofore discoursed like a philosopher on moderation, now becomes furious, bearding the king on his throne; if craft is employed it is no longer for the mere purpose of finding out secrets, but for the destruction of life; as when the king sends Hamlet to England, to be put to death; and when, on his unexpected return, Laertes and the king concert his death by means of the treacherous fencing-match.

Act fifth.—Inquisitiveness now assumes a more intricate form in the old grave-digger’s riddles, and in Hamlet’s refined speculations. Credulity (as Horatio’s account of prodigies in the first act,) becomes bigotry in the priest who buried Ophelia, and faith in a special Providence in Hamlet. Foppery and affectation reach their height in Osric; discretion assumes its highest form in Hamlet’s frank apology to Laertes, and in his anxiety lest he should leave a “wounded name” behind him; Horatio crowns his constancy by resolving to die with his friend; and ungoverned passion produces the scandalous conflict at Ophelia’s grave, and the scuffle in fencing, which is the immediate forerunner of the bloody catastrophe. The change of rapiers has been condemned as a bungling device; but was it not most probably designed to illustrate the theme, showing, as it does, the blind and heedless rage of the combatants?

It is manifest that Ulrici’s method of reading these plays must lead to a re-consideration of the most important criticisms which have heretofore been made upon them. The propriety and relevancy of each part being considered with reference to the “central idea,” many apparent anomalies will be reconciled, and many imputed faults vindicated. A new value will also be given to them; for, viewed in this light, the masters of eloquence,—the Senator, the Advocate, and the Preacher,—may, from these models, learn how to discuss a theme, or conduct a discussion. The poet rambles through all nature, yet never for one moment forgets his purpose; now he convulses us with laughter, and now melts us to tears; now fires us with indignation, and now chills us with horror; yet ever, amidst these various and conflicting emotions, steadily pursues his argument. Every speech is to the same purpose, and yet there is no repetition; and, though he perseveres till the subject is wholly exhausted, our interest seldom for one moment languishes. Let him, therefore, who would see Logic, and Rhetoric, and Poetry in their most perfect form and combination, repair to the pages of Shakspeare.