I WILL return now to the point from which I started—the Essex trial—for it seems to me obvious that the character of Hamlet and the experiences of Hamlet include, also, a good deal suggested by Essex.

Essex, we may remember, had a side of his character which was deeply studious and by nature he was a student and a soldier far more than a courtier. Francis Bacon advised him to appear "bookish and contemplative." [Abbot, Bacon and Essex.] In his Apology addressed to Anthony Bacon, Essex says:

"For my infection in nature, it was indifferent to books and arms and was more inflamed with the love of knowledge than with the love of fame. . . . Witness your rarely qualified brother and my bookishness from my very childhood."

Wotton, in his Reliquiæ, gives testimony to the same effect:

"It is certain that he (Leicester) drew him (Essex) first into the fatal circle from a kind of resolved privateness at his house at Lampsie in South Wales when, after the academical life, he had taken such a taste for the rural as I have heard him say he could have well bent his mind to a retired course."

Now, here we surely see the parallel with Hamlet in the studious nature which loves retirement, and wishes to avoid the court and to live in seclusion after the university course.

"Essex," says Mr Abbott, "sorely needed guidance, and, unlike many of the guideless, he knew that he needed it. Like Hamlet he was and knew that he was too liable to be 'passion's slave' and he longed for some calm, steadfast and philosophic Horatio. . . . Physically and mentally Essex was as unstable as Hamlet . . . at one time outshining all his peers in the glory of the tilt-yard, at the next, sulking in solitude at Wanstead; now the Queen's chief councillor and sole depositary of all state secrets, now again forswearing all work, neglecting all his own interests and even those of his friends; at one moment exulting . . . at another exclaiming 'Vanitas vanitatum' and despairing even of honour and safety. . . . His instability more often injured himself than his friends."

Just as Essex had come reluctantly to Court from his studies, so he often desired to retire from it, and at times did so. In a letter to Lady Anne Bacon, the Earl complains: "I live in a place where I am hourly compassed against and practised upon."

Anthony Bacon accuses Cecil of tampering with his correspondence, and Essex feels ill at ease amid all this intrigue, and once more resorts to his old expedient of absenting himself from Court.

"Essex," says Mr Abbott, "was during the last years of his life, continually suffering from melancholy."

Essex, also, seemed at times on the verge of insanity. "The Earl is crazed," writes Chamberlain, "but whether more in mind or body, is doubtful."

At his trial Essex was accused by Robert Cecil of ambition, and of aspiring to the Crown:

"I have said the King of Scots was a competitor; and you I have said are a Competitor; you would depose the Queen, you would be King of England, and call a Parliament."

Essex, in his reply, dwelt on his lack of ambition:

"I have laboured and by my prayers to God earnestly desired that I might be armed with patience to endure all afflictions. . . . God which knoweth the secrets of all hearts knows that I never sought the Crown of England, nor ever wished to be a higher degree than that of subject."

Now, I have already pointed out, that in the original saga, one of Hamlet's chief motives was his desire to gain the crown for himself; in Shakespeare's play this is entirely omitted, and the hero is characterised by a complete lack of ambition, very curious in his situation, but explicable enough if Shakespeare is taking hints from somebody against whom ambition had been made a criminal charge.

Speaking of the last two years of Essex's life, Mr Abbott says:

"There can be no question at all that, rightly or wrongly, Essex believed that his enemies around the Queen's person were plotting the betrayal of his country as well as the ruin of himself and also that in his moods of depression and melancholy, he thought his life to be in immediate danger."

"He was at this time given to fits of gloom and despair."

Harrington says of him in such a mood "the man's soul tosseth to and fro like a troubled sea."

"His irresolution," says Mr Abbott again, "bordered on the fitfulness of insanity."

Now here, once more, we surely have remarkable parallels to Hamlet: in the last part of the play we have, Hamlet's feeling that his enemies are plotting his death, and will certainly achieve it: we have his premonition, "But thou wouldst not think, how ill all's here about my heart." [Act V, ii.]

The mind "tossing like a troubled sea," reminds us of Hamlet's own metaphor "to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them." [Act III, i.]

Essex, in fact, in the last year of his life, was, as Mr Abbott so justly points out, startlingly like Hamlet: he was irresolute almost to the point of insanity, he was surrounded by cunning enemies who plotted against his life, he had a premonition of disaster.

Essex, moreover, suffered from a misery so great that he often longed for death. Thus he said at his trial:

"I will not (I protest to God) speak to save my life; for those that persecute it against me, shall do me a good turn to rid me of much misery and themselves of fear."

We may compare this with Hamlet. [Act III, i.]

"To die: to sleep
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished."

Essex, on being condemned, said, as he had often done during his trial: "My own life I do not value," but he besought mercy for the Earl of Southampton.

We may compare Hamlet, "I do not set my life at a pin's fee." [Act I, iv.]

Again Essex said, "I protest I do crave her Majesty's mercy with all humility; yet I had rather die than live in misery."

We have Hamlet's [Act III, i.]:

"For who would bear the whips and scorns of time
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin."

Essex, on hearing his sentence, said: "My Lord, I am not at all dismayed to receive this sentence, for death is far more cheerful to me than life; and I shall die as cheerful a death as ever man did."

Essex, in fact, showed emphatically during the last period of his life, the world-weariness and the life-weariness which we associate so markedly with Hamlet.

John Chamberlain, writing February 21st, 1600-1, says:

"The Earl of Essex announced that he was driven to do what he did for safety of his life. . . . This was the summe of his answer, but delivered with such bravery and so many words that a man might easily perceive that, as he had ever lived popularly, so his chief care was to have a good opinion in the people's minds now at parting."

We may compare this with Hamlet's intense anxiety not to leave after him "a wounded name," and his injunction to Horatio to "tell my story." [Act V, ii.]

Malone pointed out long ago that Shakespeare in writing the last words of Horatio's farewell:

"Now cracks a noble heart—Good night, sweet prince,
And flights of Angels sing thee to thy rest,"

had in his mind the last words of Essex in his prayer on the scaffold: "And when my soul and body shall part, send thy blessed angels to be near unto me which may convey it to the joys of heaven." We may also note that shortly after the execution there was a ballad published, entitled Essex' Last Good-night. It is a rough and doggerel production and every verse ends with the refrain of "good night."

"He never yet hurt Mother's son,
His quarrel still maintains the right,
Which the tears my face down run
When I think on his last Good-Night."
* * *
And life shall make amends for all
For Essex bids the world 'Good-Night.'"

It looks as if Shakespeare were remembering and reminding his audience of both.

The whole part of Hamlet which is concerned with the players seems to me to have, in all probability, a great deal to do with Essex.

Both Essex and Southampton gave repeated offence to the queen by the way in which they associated themselves with actors and stage plays.

Mr Ingram says:

"At that time the Stage, to a great extent, possessed the influence which in a later age passed to the Press. Having no daily journals or other accessible means of rapid and general communication on topics of common interest, the public looked to and found what it wanted in the Stage. The play supplied references to the political, religious and social events of the day. Writers and players found their profit in responding to the popular feeling of their audience, and although many times fine and imprisonment rewarded their attempt to meddle with matters of state, they persisted in their efforts." [Christopher Marlowe and his Associates.]

Now it has already been pointed out that Shakespeare's company had the closest possible connection with the Essex trial through their repeated performance of Richard II, and that his connection with the play told heavily against Essex at the trial itself since the deposition scene and the death were taken as being an earnest of what he intended to do with the queen.

The reader will also remember that one of the chief counts in the indictment against Essex was his patronage of Haywarde's book on Henry IV, which was supposed to contain numerous references to Elizabeth's favouritism and other objectionable features of her reign.

Now surely we can see here many parallels with Hamlet. We see Hamlet treating the players with the utmost courtesy, on terms of familiarity with them, interested in their art, giving them instructions and consulting with them as to the plays they are to perform; his connection with them is regarded with great suspicion by Polonius and the king (exactly as the queen objected to Essex and Southampton having a connection with the players), and with justice, for Hamlet does use them for political purposes exactly as Essex had used them for political purposes.

Hamlet's method of dealing with the Gonzago play is exactly the method which Shakespeare had been accused of employing both in Henry IV and Richard II. It seems to me, as I have said before, exceedingly probable that it was the method he used in dealing with Hamlet. He selects a story which shows a considerable likeness to the murder of his father, he accentuates that likeness, and makes it more pointed, and then, when the king is naturally full of indignation, he leaps to his feet and cries that "the story is extant," and "in choice Italian." This is probably the exact method by which Shakespeare and his fellows evaded the censor.

Hamlet himself describes the players, as "the abstract and brief chronicles of the time: after your death you were better have a bad epitaph than their ill report while you live." [Act II, ii.] Now, in what sense could they be "the abstract and brief chronicles of the time," if their plays dealt with bronze-age Britain, with ancient Denmark and remote Elyria, and with nothing else.

Moreover, if this were the case, why should the Star Chamber concern itself so closely with both dramatists and actors. The truth is that we have overwhelming evidence for the political influence of the stage, and Shakespeare and Shakespeare's company were as deeply involved as anyone.

In the case of Hamlet his meddling with the Gonzago play is the thing that excites the suspicion of the king, which never afterwards slumbered; he places his neck in jeopardy, and ultimately brings his fate upon him through this play. In exactly the same way did Essex place his neck in jeopardy, and help to bring suspicion upon himself (as his trial shows) by his connection with Richard II.

All this part of Hamlet is quite obviously full of topical allusions, for Shakespeare even makes a reference to the boys, the "little eyases" who supplanted himself and his company in the favour of the court when they were disgraced on account of this very affair.

There can be little doubt that Shakespeare brings his own company in here. Hamlet asks: "What players are they?"

"ROS. Even those you were wont to take delight in, the tragedians of the city.
HAM. How chances it they travel? their residence, both in reputation and profit, was better both ways.
ROS. I think their inhibition comes by the means of the late innovation.
HAM. Do they hold the same estimation they did when I was in the city? are they so followed?
ROS. No, indeed, they are not.
HAM. How comes it? do they grow rusty?
ROS. Nay, their endeavour keeps in the wonted pace; but there is, sir, an aery of children, little eyases, that cry out on the top of question and are most tyrannically clapped for't."

Now, this is one of the passages quite definitely accepted by Mr Boas and others as referring to Shakespeare's own company, and one of the passages they mainly rely upon in estimating the date of the play. But, if Shakespeare inserts his company like this into the very middle of Hamlet, what is there to prevent him from inserting also the method of himself and his company into the midst of Hamlet, and explaining it in the Gonzago play? Can we, as a matter of fact, imagine a better method of doing it, and of suggesting that Hamlet is full of historical parallels even though the story is extant already as a play.

Another portion of Hamlet which seems to me to contain, in all probability, reference to Essex, is the Laertes story. There is certainly no parallel whatever to this in the original saga, but there is in the last years of the life of Essex.

Laertes is cunningly used by Claudius as a rival to Hamlet; he tries to destroy them by pitting them one against the other.

It was in exactly the same way that Raleigh had been pitted against Essex. Mr Innes says ["Walter Raleigh" (in Ten Tudor Statesmen).]:

"Old Lord Burleigh died, and a considerable portion of the story of the Queen's last years is really the story of the crafty intriguing by which Robert Cecil first urged Essex to the ruin on which he was ready enough to rush, and then laid his mines for the destruction of Raleigh while carefully avoiding the odium in both cases."

Essex repeatedly stated at the time of his abortive attempt, and also during his trial, that he believed his life in danger, and that Raleigh and others had been appointed to assassinate him.

Anthony Weldon states that the destruction of Essex was always counted against Robert Cecil:

"Sir Robert Cecil was a very wise man, but much hated in England by reason of the fresh bleeding of that unusually beloved Earl of Essex."

At the Essex trial Masham deposed, February 10th, 1601:

"I heard that Lord Essex should have been murdered, and was come guarded into London for safety. . . . I met a servant of Lady Essex who told me that Cobham and Raleigh would have murdered my lord that night. . . . My lord came forth himself and declared to the people that he should have been murdered and came to them for safety. . . . "

So, in Hamlet, Claudius tries to employ Laertes to get rid of Hamlet in order to avoid the odium himself; the method to be employed is that of an "envenomed foil" now, venom is, of course, an ever-recurring metaphor for slander, and stabbing was the exact method of death expected by Essex himself.

On March 3rd, 1601, the deposition of Masham was confirmed by that of Dr Fletcher: Mr Temple said that the Earl was waylaid by Sir Walter Raleigh and his company of ruffians, and that if he went (i.e. to court), he should certainly be martyred. That he (Temple) acquainted me and others of my Lord's friends with it, that they might know how he was pursued by his enemies, meaning Sir Walter Raleigh and his company.

We may remember in this connection that Raleigh was present at the death of Essex, but, for fear lest he might be accused of triumphing over him he withdrew to some distance, and saw it from the armoury only.

Raleigh is said to have shed tears of compassion. During all the remainder of his life he was concerned to excuse himself from complicity.

Even at his death (1618), it was the charge against him that he thought most grievous on the scaffold Raleigh entreated everyone to believe

"that he had not been instrumental in causing the death of the Earl of Essex nor had he rejoiced thereat, as had been imported to him. On the contrary he had regretted it more than his own sins."

Here, again, it is impossible not to see the parallel with Hamlet.

Hamlet was written when it was still believed that Raleigh had been instrumental in the destruction of Essex; but it was also believed that his deed was scarcely consummated before he had felt remorse. This is the exact situation of Laertes, who realises too late how he has been practised upon:

"Hamlet; Hamlet, thou art slain;
No medicine in the world can do thee good
In thee there is not half an hour of life,
The treacherous instrument is in thy hand,
Unbated and envenomed."

Sir Anthony Weldon states that it was resentment for the death of Essex which caused James, on his accession, to be so hard on Raleigh.

It is probable also that the grave-digging scene owes something to the execution of Essex. It certainly owes nothing to the original saga; in the saga Amleth returns from Britain to Jutland, and finds the court celebrating his own funeral:

"Covered with filth, he entered the banquet room where obsequies were being held and struck all men utterly aghast, rumour having, falsely noised about his death."

Before the court can recover from its astonishment Amleth gets the better of them all, and burns them to death in the banqueting hall. This is also the situation in the Historie of Hamblet.

It seems possible that this feigned funeral of Hamlet may have suggested the real funeral of Ophelia; but the conception of the grave-diggers owes much more to contemporary events. Essex was so generally beloved that the ordinary executioner refused his task; a stranger had to be found to behead the Earl, and the man bungled his task and performed it horribly; the anger of the populace against him was so great that he dared not appear in the streets of London for fear of being lynched.

Edmond Howes's continuation of Stow's Chronicle states:

"The 25 of February, being Ash-wednesday, about 8. of the clocke in the morning was the sentence of death executed upon Robert Devereux earle of Essex, within the Tower of London . . . . The hangman was beaten as hee returned thence, so that the sheriffes of London were called to assist and rescue him from such as would have murthered him."

Now in Hamlet the chief point of the grave-digging scene is the way in which the "knave" insults the remains of the dead, and the immense helplessness of the dead before these insults. The "knave" cares nothing for the skulls, "he jowls" one to the ground as "if it were Cain's jawbone that did the first murder." He knocks another about the mazzard with his spade. It has been usual to explain the incident of Yorick's skull as referring to the recent death of Tarleton, the great comedian of Shakespeare's company: it may be so; but it is much more probable that the incident refers to Essex; Tarleton was certainly not executed, and no one has ever told us that his dead body was insulted, whereas Yorick's skull must be severed from his body, since Hamlet takes it in his hands. Moreover, Yorick's skull is certainly insulted; as acted on the stage the clown usually strike-, it as he strikes the others. Yorick is described as the "king's jester," "a fellow of infinite jest," "of most excellent fancy "; and Essex had been one of the most brilliant and the wittiest of all the courtiers.

Take, moreover, the language in which Hamlet addresses the skull when he says: "Get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come; make her laugh at that."

This surely has no suggestion of Tarleton; but it is most gruesome and terrible if it applies to Essex; it reminds us of the famous incident when, on his return from Ireland, Essex rushed into the presence of his queen, and found her at her toilet—probably dishevelled and painting, an incident which was supposed to have had a most untoward effect upon his fate. An imagination worthy of Dante to make the skull of the victim interrupt once again at the toilette!

Here, also, we probably find the reason for comparing the skull to that of Alexander's. Where would be the point of comparing Tarleton's skull to Alexander's, or his dust to that of "imperious Caesar"; but there is real point in comparing that of Essex, for Essex had been one of the most daring and brilliant soldiers of his day. The exploit of Essex against Cadiz was a most brilliant feat of arms in which, like Alexander, he had ventured almost single-handed, into a hostile city; like Alexander, Essex had travelled widely, and met his enemies in distant lands and, like him, he too perished in his youth. Rashness was the quality of both, rashness and brilliance and an early death. Hamlet compares Yorick's skull to Alexander's: "Dost thou think Alexander looked o' this fashion I' the earth?" and again, "Why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander, till he find it stopping a bung-hole."

"Essex," says Mr Abbott, "was acknowledged, though on insufficient grounds no doubt, to be the ablest general in England; it was precisely because he was acknowledged to be the ablest general that he was sent to Ireland."

We may compare, also, the contemporary pamphlet, Honour in Perfection, by G. M., usually attributed to Gervase Marklam, which deals with the house of Essex:

"The noble world is but a Theatre of Renoune, the Tongues of all people make up but the Trumpet which speaks them, and it is Eternitie itself which shall keep them unto everlasting memorie."

Moreover, Essex himself had been haunted by the dread of ignominy to his body if he died the death of a traitor, and had repeatedly spoken of it; even before he came into open revolt he had been conscious of exposure to low-minded insults.

I quote the most pertinent extracts; thus, in a letter written to the queen dated May 20th, 1600, Essex says of himself that he feels

"as if I were thrown into a comer like a dead carcass, I am gnawed upon and tom by the basest and vilest creatures upon earth. The tavern-haunter speaks of me what he lists. Already they print me and make me speak to the world, and shortly they will print me in what forms they list upon the stage." [Birch, Memoirs of Queen Elizabeth.]

Now, surely we have here remarkable parallels to the grave-digging scene; Yorick's skull is thrown into a corner, it is "gnawed upon" by the vilest of creatures; the clown is a tavern-haunter, for he sends his boy for a "stoup of liquor" even over his work, thus bringing the dead insulted bodies into the closest connection with the tavern.

Moreover, as we see, Essex was confident that he would be represented on the stage and, if so, why might not Shakespeare represent him and defend him?

Shakespeare might have seen this very letter before it was sent; there is no reason why he should not.

On receiving sentence, Essex said:

"And I think it fitting that my poor quarters, which have done her Majesty true service in divers parts of the world, should now at last be sacrificed and disposed of at her Majesty's pleasure."

Compare this with Hamlet's bitter irony:

"Imperious Caesar, dead and turned to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away." [Act V, i.]

We may compare the declaration of the treasons uttered by a certain Abraham Colfe referring to Essex [State Papers, 1601.]:

"He commended a great general of the wars lately dead whom he called Veri Dux, extolling most highly his infancy, young years, and man's age, his embracing of learned men and warriors, who all followed him without pay. He named the journey to Cadiz, his forwardness there and felicity, and how men looked on his returning "tanquam in solem occidentum . . . After his coming home he was "pessime tractatus, quia cum esset imperator imperata non fecerit," . . . His virtue which drew upon him the envy of great personages was the cause of his overthrow.

". . . His enemies accused him of aspiring to a kingdom. . . . He showed how the executioners had three strokes at his head, that his very enemies could not choose but weep when they saw his head cut off. . . . His conclusion was, "You have heard of the life and death of a worthy general."

Surely, we have here the same train of thought as in Shakespeare; the insulted dead, the shamed and humiliated dust and the "great general," so great that he is compared to an emperor and the leader of his country. History does not record that the dust of Alexander "stopped a bung-hole," or that the dust of Caesar "patched a hole to expel the winter's flaw"; but profound humiliation certainly happened to the dust of Essex.

Remember that the execution of Essex was still the grief of the whole country when Hamlet was played, and let us ask ourselves what Shakespeare's audience would be likely to think.

Another point to notice is that, before his death, Essex most passionately desired reconciliation with those whom he had esteemed his enemies. He professed to bear no malice to Lord Cobham and Sir Walter Raleigh and, as already quoted, [Birch, Memoirs of Queen Elizabeth.] the latter is said to have shed tears when he witnessed the execution of Essex.

We may compare the reconciliation of Hamlet and Laertes.

"Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet;
Mine and my father's death come not upon thee,
Nor thine on me,"

and Hamlet's reply:

"Heaven make thee free of it." [Act V, ii.]

Laertes is stabbed by the "envenomed foil" prepared for Hamlet, and, as he himself says:

"I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery."

So was Raleigh destroyed by the same methods of slander which he had himself employed against Essex.

I turn now to an incident which has always puzzled commentators: the fight between Hamlet and Laertes in the grave.

Campbell points out that Hamlet's love for Ophelia only seems to occur in certain portions of the play and that, for instance, the burial scene seems to show an almost complete absence of it:

"Had it been in the mind of Shakespeare to show Hamlet in the agony of hopeless despair he must at that moment have been, had Ophelia been all in all to him . . . is there in all his writings so utter a failure in the attempt to give vent to an overwhelming passion? . . . It seems not a little unaccountable that Hamlet should have been so slightly affected by her death."

Campbell points out that Hamlet's real motive in leaping into the grave appears to be, not love for Ophelia at all, but rivalry with Laertes—a very different passion. Campbell continues:

"When Hamlet leaps into the grave do we see in that any power of love? I am sorry to confess that to me the whole of that scene is merely painful. It is anger with Laertes, not love for Ophelia, that makes Hamlet leap into the grave. Laertes' conduct, he tells us afterwards, put him into a towering passion—a state of mind which it is not easy to reconcile with any kind of sorrow for the dead Ophelia. But had he been attempting to describe the behaviour of an impassioned lover at the grave of his beloved I should be compelled to feel that he had not merely departed from nature, but that he had offered her the most profane violation and insult."

It seems to me that this fight in the grave may perhaps be best interpreted as symbolic. The whole Elizabethan age was passing away; its glories were decaying and most of its great men were already dead; of those who remained, the most distinguished—Essex and Raleigh—were flying at each other's throats, eager to destroy each other; their queen was the shadow of herself, anyone knew she might die at any moment, and it was precisely over the question of her succession that the most violent quarrels broke out. The clown when first asked for whom the grave was made replies that it is for no man ox no woman neither, and a little later on explains: "One that was a woman, sir, but, rest her soul, she's dead." It may be meant to symbolise the burial of a whole age. Hamlet and Laertes both profess that their motive for the quarrel in the grave is their love for Ophelia, and they "outface" each other in their professions of affection to her, the result being this disgraceful insult to her memory. Surely if it is meant as a symbol it is, terribly appropriate, the last great Elizabethans destroying each other over the very body of their mistress, all the time professing their love, and a crafty enemy taking advantage of their quarrel to destroy them both. I can see no reason why Shakespeare should not introduce, at least, an element of symbolism into his plays; the greatest of his predecessors—Spenser—wrote a poem which is one mass of symbolism; symbolism was one of the chief methods in the religious drama which preceded Shakespeare's, and in one of his chief dramatic predecessors—Lyly.

Another scene which may possibly have been suggested by the Essex story is the casket scene between Hamlet and Ophelia when Ophelia returns the casket of his letters, declaring that they were love letters, and Hamlet is immediately enraged, and suspects her honesty.

We learn from the State Papers, [Ed. Green.] that the Countess of Essex had been used as an instrument to betray her husband. In June 1601, there was a long examination in the Star Chamber concerning a casket of letters which the Countess of Essex had entrusted to a certain Jane Daniells who had also been her gentlewoman.

"Jane's husband stole a number of the letters to have them copied. . . .

"The countess was greatly afraid that the Earl would be angry with her for suffering his long and passionate love-letters to be spread abroad . . . she swore they were not dangerous. . . . Daniells demanded three thousand pounds to give them back and the Countess was forced to sell her jewels. . . .

"At the time of the Earl's arraignment he pretended that the aforementioned letters had been stolen and counterfeited by his adversaries. . . .

"The Court, pitying the Countess, cleared her from all suspicion of any ill intention towards her late husband."

Here, again, we surely have close parallels. Hamlet's love-letters to Ophelia are intercepted and stolen; Hamlet asserts that he never gave her anything, while she asserts that he did, but that the gifts were love-letters and jewels; moreover, this very casket scene is used as a means to decoy Hamlet into the hands of his enemies, and Ophelia is the innocent and unwilling instrument overwhelmed with distress by Hamlet's anger.

The parallel is, once again, suspiciously close, and this also is a scene which has no parallel whatever in the so-called literary source.

We may observe that Ophelia's description of her lover stands out sharply from the Hamlet of much of the play, the Hamlet who resembles James I, though Ophelia's description of her lover would serve admirably for the Earl of Essex. She expressly tells us that the Hamlet she had loved was both a "courtier" and a soldier."

"O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!
The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword
The expectancy and rose of the fair state.
The, glass of fashion and the mould of form,
The observed of all observers, quite, quite, down!"

When was the Hamlet of the rest of the play a soldier? Does he not expressly dislike bloodshed?

How can he have been a courtier when he so expressly despises all the tricks of courtiers? How can he have been the "glass of fashion," and the "mould of form," when he thoroughly despised dress and habiliments?

How can he have been the "observed of all observers?" when he shrank from notice, and desired the privacy of study? How can he have been "unmatched in form and feature" when, according to his own mother, he was "fat and scant of breath." Ophelia's lover is so different from the Hamlet of most of the play as to suggest that he really was a different person, which is confirmed by the fact that this Hamlet forgets all about her, and never even refers to her in his soliloquies.

Mr Bradley gives an admirable summary of this curious indifference from which I quote a portion:

(1) How is it that, in his first soliloquy, Hamlet makes no reference whatever to Ophelia?

(2) How is it that, in his second soliloquy, on the departure of the ghost, he again says nothing about her?

* * *

(5) In what way are Hamlet's insults to Ophelia at the play scene necessary either to his purpose of convincing her of his insanity or to his purpose of revenge?

(6) How is it that neither when he kills Polonius, nor afterwards, does he reflect, that he has killed Ophelia's father, or what the effect on Ophelia is likely to be?

(7) . . . there is no reference to Ophelia in the soliloquies of the first act, nor in those of any of the other acts.

(8) In speaking to Horatio, Hamlet never mentions Ophelia, and at his death he says nothing of her.

It seems to me that these facts are practically impossible to explain if Hamlet is to be interpreted as psychology; but if it is to be interpreted as mainly historical they are simple enough. We may compare with Ophelia's description of her lover, the description of Essex appended to the account of his trial in 1649:

"There sleeps great Essex, darling of Mankind,
Fair Honour's lamp, foul envie's prey, Art's fame,
Nature's pride, Virtue's bulwark, lure of Mind,
Wisdom's flower, Valour's tower, Fortune's Shame,
England's Sun, Belgia's light, France's star, Spain's thunder
Lisbon's lightning, Ireland's cloud, the whole world's wonder."

Here we have all the characteristics of Ophelia's lover: we have the courtier, the soldier and the scholar, the model for the whole world, and the flower of beauty as well.

There still remains for remark one portion of the death-scene of Hamlet; that concerning the arrival of Fortinbras as heir to the kingdom, accompanied by his army. There is nothing whatever to explain this either in Saxo Grammaticus or in the Hystorie of Hamblet; there could not be, as in both these accounts Hamlet himself takes the crown. Neither is there anything whatever in Shakespeare's Hamlet which explains why Fortinbras should be the heir. At the beginning of the play we are told by Horatio that Fortinbras lays claim to "certain lands" which his father had lost to the elder Hamlet, and was, therefore, threatening Denmark with war, [Act I, i.] but Horatio never suggests that Fortinbras is, in any sense whatever, the heir of Denmark. Why should he be? He belongs to Norway, and not a hint is given us as to any legal or dynastic claim he may have on Denmark. Yet, in the last scene, Hamlet acknowledges him as his true successor.

Surely all this is very strange. The clue seems to me to be found once again in historical events.

It seems to have been an essential part of the Essex plot that James should be ready to support his claim to the succession by force of arms.

Mr John Bruce says [Introduction to James's Letters.]:

"It seems clear that Essex had been in correspondence with James ever since 1598. . . . Montjoy in the depth of his solicitude, . . . sent his Scottish Majesty a 'project,' the effect of which was that James should prepare an army, should march at the head of it to the borders and there fulminate a demand to the English government of an open declaration to the right of the succession, should support the demand by sending an ambassador into England, and of course, although not so stated, if his demand were refused, should cross the borders as an invader. . . . "

James was greatly grieved by the fate of Essex, and termed him his martyr. As early as November 1599, when under the influence of Essex, James procured to be suggested to his principal nobility of Scotland, that they should enter into a league or "Band" for the preservation of his person and the pursuit of his right to the crowns of England and Ireland. Such an engagement was willingly entered into. . . .

He also solicited from his parliament . . . a liberal grant for warlike purposes in reference to the succession. "He was not certain," he told them, "how soon he should have to use arms; but whenever it should be, he knew his right and would venture crown and all for it. . . . The 'Band' of the nobles was sufficiently well-known in England."

I have already quoted Malone to the effect that the last words of Horatio over Hamlet are the dying words of Essex. Let us refer to the last words of Hamlet himself:

"I cannot live to hear the news from England
But I do prophesy the election lights
On Fortinbras: he has my dying voice;
So tell him, with the occurrents, more and less,
Which have solicited. The rest is silence."

Surely it would be hardly possible to dramatise the situation more closely? We have the heir who belongs to another kingdom altogether—a more northern one—who is entering to make good his right at the head of his army. We must remember that, when Hamlet was written, it was still thought that such an armed intervention might be necessary. Hamlet cannot live, as Essex could not live, to "hear the news from England"; but he prophesies that the "election" will light on Fortinbras and, in any case, he gives his "dying voice" for him. Fortinbras commands that Hamlet's body shall be placed "on a stage," a curious detail in itself, and one that suggests the "stage" of execution.

Also, Fortinbras commands that full honours shall be paid to the body of Hamlet; and as a matter of fact, James did acknowledge his debt to Essex, for he restored his family to title and honours and set free his followers.

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