vivid picture to the imagination upon the vanishing of the witches:-"What seem'd corporal," he says, "melted as breath into the wind."

Marcellus then concludes:

"Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
This bird of dawning singeth all night long :
And then, they say, no spirit can walk abroad;
The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike,
No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm ;
So hallow'd and so gracious is the time."

Horatio, the scholar and the philosopher, consistently

answers:

"So have I heard, and do in part believe it."

It will be recollected that he was sceptical as to the appearance of the ghost. Wonderfully artistical is that discrimination between the minds of Horatio and Marcellus. And then, lastly, what poetry in the breaking up of their conference!

'But, look, the morn in russet mantle clad,

Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill.
Break we our watch up."

In this introductory scene we are presented with all the chief characteristics of the sublime; and of which, not the least prevailing feature is the effect produced by the gigantic power of stillness. The quiet midnight; the cold and misty moon; the wondering under-breath discourse of those who had assembled to witness that tremendous vision. The awful and unsubstantial form itself, in silent and majestic sorrow passing among, and about them, and yet not with them; present, and yet absent; cognisable, identical, and yet intangible. This all-absorbing, this mighty abstraction, congealed, as it were, into a stern reality, in dumb eloquence and thrilling

stillness announces to us the coming events of a heart-shaking tragedy. Great is the majesty of "Silence," says Thomas Carlyle; and I know of nothing comparable in grandeur with the still and silent course of the first introduction of the Ghost in Hamlet.

At the subsequent appearance of that awful form, which occurs in the closet scene between the Prince and his mother, Shakespeare, so far from having committed an anti-climax, (which must have happened to an ordinary dramatist,) has even more deeply rooted our interest in the sorrows of the "perturbed spirit;" for, on his first coming, the motive for appearing to his son being to stir him to revenge, he would tardily and scantily have carried our sympathies with him; but his second appearance is blended with an emotion of tenderness towards her who had lain in his bosom in her days of innocence and happiness; in those days when

"She would hang on him,

As if increase of appetite had grown

By what it fed on:"

and who now was stricken to the heart with blood-guiltiness and remorse.

"But look, amazement on thy mother sits:

Oh! step between her and her fighting soul."

In the first scene with his son, when charging him to revenge the "foul and unnatural murder," he enjoins exception in behalf of his guilty queen :—

"But, howsoever thou pursu'st this act,

Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive
Against thy mother aught; leave her to Heaven,
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,
To prick and sting her."

It was just like the divine humanity in our poet to foster

the idea of love in that life beyond life, still hovering with angelic tenderness and pardon over his weak and repentant partner in the flesh. And how beautifully this little touch of yearning emotion on the part of the spirit harmonises with the previous character given of him by his son :—

"So loving to my mother,

That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly."

It is the verifying these points of harmony and consistency in the creations of this wonderful genius, that makes the study of his productions a constant source of astonishment as well as delight.

Horatio is not merely the gentleman and scholar, as has been observed, and therefore worthy to be the companion of Hamlet; but the higher attractions of his honourable nature, his bland and trusting disposition, his prudent mind, and steadfastly affectionate heart, have raised him to the highest social rank that man can attain in this world-he is his prince's confidant and bosom-friend. The character of Horatio is the only spot of sun-light in the play; and he is a cheering, though not a joyous gleam coming across the dark hemisphere of treachery, mistrust, and unkindness. The cheerfulness of the grave-digger arises from an intimacy with, and a callous indifference to his occupation, which, as Horatio says,

"Custom hath made in him a property of easiness."

It is the result, too, of a healthy old age; or, in some sort, it is not a sentiment, but a physical consequence; even a negation.

But in the deportment of Horatio we have the constant recognition of a placid and pensive man; making no protestations, yet constantly prepared for gentle service. Modest,

and abiding his time to be appreciated, his friendship for Hamlet is a purely disinterested principle, and the Prince bears high testimony to it,-an illustrious and eloquent tribute to the qualities of his head and heart :

"Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man As e'er my conversation cop'd withal. "Hor. O! my dear lord!

"Ham.

Nay, do not think I flatter:

For what advancement may I hope from thee,

That no revenue hast, but thy good spirits,

To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flat

ter'd?

No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp;

And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee,

Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear?
Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice,

And could of men distinguish, her election
Hath seal'd thee for herself: for thou hast been
As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing;
A man, that fortune's buffets and rewards

Hast ta'en with equal thanks: and bless'd are those
Whose blood and judgment are so well co-mingled,
That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger
To sound what stop she please. Give me that man
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,
As I do thee."

Horatio has it, and

And all this is no lip-deep attestation. has earned it. As he adhered to his friend through life, so would he have followed him in death; and only consented to survive him that he might redeem his character with the world. It is worthy of notice, that Horatio's speeches, after the first scene, consist almost entirely of simple assents to the observations of Hamlet; but when the final catastrophe has ensued, he comes forward, and assumes the prerogative of his position; and, as the companion and confidant of his Prince, he

takes his station by Fortinbras, and the ambassadors, and at once assumes the office of moral executor and apologist for his friend. Was there no forethought,-no contrivance in all this subtle consecution of action? To me there is an indescribable charm in this Doric order of friendship and attachment, which Shakespeare has so frequently repeated in his plays:—simple, and unornate in exterior pretension; but massive and steadfast in design and structure.

With scarcely an exception, no one character in this tragedy has, I think, been worked out with more pains and accurate consistency, than that of the Lord Chamberlain, old Polonius. In his conduct and demeanour the critical task has been achieved of blending the highest useful wisdom (the knowledge of mankind) with the garrulity of an imbecile old age. Although Polonius, however, prates away at all times, and never omits an occasion to proffer his opinion, yet he does not babble; for no one dispenses sounder advice, or speaks more practical axioms. These, it is true, from his courtly education and gold-stick employment, he frequently converts into the "crooked wisdom" of cunning and manœuvre ; for, so carefully is his conduct laid out by the poet, that every one of his plans has in it a double-move, as it were, (like a game of chess,) before he makes his hit. Polonius is a thorough-paced diplomatist, and seems to have (like the bulk of his tribe) a positive horror of simple and sincere action: as if stratagem and circumvention were the genius and staple of political commerce. His well-known advice to his son, Laertes, upon the young man's leave-taking for France, is as fine as an essay in Bacon :—it consists of a string of axioms that would make a perfect gentleman and man of business, whether civil or commercial:

"Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for shame!

The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail,

And you are stay'd for. There,—my blessing with you!