and so insistent is he on the benevolence of his intentions, that Hamlet, had he been a madman, would never have detected them. His acute mind, however, penetrates the criminal's villainous hypocrisy, and, in sarcastic reply, he affirms, "I see a cherub that sees your purpose." His costly error has taught him that in the accomplishment of his heavenly appointed duty, he must rely less upon his own efforts and more upon the higher guidance of the "Divinity that shapes our ends." His brief reference to angels and the implied assurance of their aid is full of significance. It reveals a supernatural faith, which inspires him with the confidence that, in carrying out the mandate of the purgatorial spirit, he will have angels fighting in his cause. They are the agents of God, the ministers of His grace, and the guardians of men. Since they are on his side, why need he fear results? He may defy the treachery of his uncle. "This beauteous and sudden intimation of heavenly insight and interference against the insidious purpose of the king's show of regard for Hamlet's welfare," says Caldicott, "flashes upon us with a surprise and interest rarely to be found, and worthy of this great master of the drama." THE KING'S TREACHERY "Come, for England!" exclaims Hamlet, and, on departing from the royal presence, he accentuates his ill-feeling towards his uncle by ignoring him, and bidding farewell to his mother only, even though she be absent. She is the only tie that binds him to his native land. His words prompt the king to suggest a farewell also to his "loving father;" but the Prince in scornful emphasis spurns his show of treacherous affection, rejects his claim of father, and reiterates his first farewell. By a witty subterfuge, he escapes even a seeming courtesy to the hated criminal: Ham. Come; for England! Farewell, dear mother. Ham. My mother: father and mother is man and wife; His words take for granted the indissoluble bond of Christian marriage: "Wherefore shall a man leave father and mother, and shall cleave to his wife, and they shall be two in one flesh. Therefore now, they are not two, but one flesh. What therefore, God hath joined together, let no man put asunder." "So ought men to love their wives as their own bodies. He that loveth his wife loveth himself; for no man hateth his own flesh." A man cannot be divided from himself."" Hamlet's words indicate the good old Catholic doctrine, which ruled in his day, as it did throughout Christendom before the misinterpretation of Christian truths by the religious reformers of northern Europe in the sixteenth century. Hamlet had met the haughty questions of the King with equal imperiousness. His offensive allusions and comparisons, heightened by resistless withering scorn, and intensified by his ferocity of attack, humiliated Claudius, filled him with rankling pain, and roused him, though outwardly composed before the court, to secret indignation and to new fears and alarms. If Hamlet's offensive words, as well as his fierceness, seemed pardonable to the courtiers, who imagined him demented, the King, who alone knew the true situation, realized their dangerous significance; they were the words of a son who was even now bent on avenging the murder of his father. He might strike at any unguarded moment; and the thought fills him with a most unroyal panic. In consequence, yielding to his fears, he 26 Ephes. V, 25.-1 Thess. IV, 3-5.-Gen. II, 24.-Matt. IX, 6.-Mark, X, II-12.-Luke, XVI, 18.-Rom. VII, 2-3. excitedly commands his attendants to pursue the Prince, to follow close on his heels, to lure him aboard ship, and away with him from Denmark that very night. Events are crowding fast upon each other; but yesterday, Hamlet had unmasked the crime of Claudius, and on the same evening had slain Polonius; and in consequence he must now on the morrow quietly submit to be sent away to England. Those critics who imagine that a simple swordthrust is all that is implied in the revenge of Hamlet, are apt to agree with Gervinus, when he asserts: "Hamlet's failure of vengeance must now compel him to act at last most powerfully in earnest." "Just the reverse is true," says Werder, "if any thing could occur to bring him to his senses, to impress upon him the necessity of checking the pace of his task, it is this failure, this misthrust." It has proved him in the eyes of Claudius, a dangerous madman, who should be confined, watched, and kept from doing further harm. Though by his blunder, he has put himself in the power of the enemy, he sees that the King, fearing to aim directly at his life, will resort to strategy; but in this game he feels confident of outplaying his opponent. Swift to interpret the purpose of Claudius and his secret agents, he is as ready in a counterplot. It is to his advantage to accompany them; at home he shall be daily plagued by the hateful presence of the King's guards, who now accompany his every step. By sailing, he shall rid himself of them, and, moreover be free to discover the nefarious plot, to outwit the criminal, and to obtain a tangible proof of the intended crime with the view of using it against him. From this time on, neglecting the role of lunacy, save in his strife with Laertes at Ophelia's grave, he acts with energy, and stands every ready on a watchful defence. Hitherto he had marred his project by too much reliance on his own devices and strength, now he will rely more upon the aid of Divine Providence. As soon as the royal attendants, hurrying after Hamlet, had left the King alone, he unbosoms himself of his secret design to murder Hamlet. Unlike Macbeth, who by nature open, direct, and honest, rushes only from impulse into blundering crime, Claudius, by nature malicious, indirect, and feline, reveals himself an undoubted sleek, cunning, calculating, coldblooded, and smiling villain. Panic-stricken by fear, his mind is tortured with anxious doubts whether the tributary king of England will heed his murderous request. The sentence of death contained in the sealed document is, he thinks, clear enough, and direct, and just. The culprit, under pretence of madness, had murdered an innocent old man, the Chancellor of State, and even now breathes forth murder against himself as well as others. Unable, by reason of the murderer's rank and influence, to proceed legally against him at home, he, therefore, on the authority of Denmark's admitted suzerainty, commands England's vassal king to execute the criminal secretly without further shift. To allay his misgivings, Claudius in soliloquy invokes several reasons why the vassal king should not disregard his urgent command. While lives the Prince, his frame shall be racked with feverish fears: "For like the hectic in my blood he rages, And thou must cure me; till I know 'tis done, The scene shows a notable change in Claudius. His recent attempt at repentance had been prompted more by fear than by compunction of heart; hence, when it brought him face to face with the absolute conditions of forgiveness, he turned his back on heaven, and henceforth, abandoned by divine grace, he proceeds from bad to worse. As Macbeth |