of the spacious palace hall, and opposite this is a throne for the king
and queen. The orchestra carries everything before it with the rousing
Danish march which accompanies the ceremonious entrance of the entire
court. This composition ranks with the drinking-song in popularity. When
all are assembled, Hamlet places himself in a position to watch the
king, and as the mimic play proceeds he explains the action, which is
all in pantomime. The orchestral descriptive music of this play within a
play is beautiful and interesting. As in Ophelia's reading, the simple
melody and hesitating rhythm again convey the impression of something
inserted, something apart from the real action of the play. Hamlet
becomes more and more excited as the play goes on, for he sees
unmistakable signs of uneasiness in the king's expression; and when at
last the mimic murderer pours poison into the ear of his sleeping
victim, the king rises in anger and orders the players away. Hamlet in a
delirium of vengeful joy cries out the king's guilt. He pushes his way
through the surrounding courtiers, and with unbridled fury accuses the
murderer. He is sustained by a perfect tidal wave of chords from the
orchestra, which dash and beat and break, but only harm the good ship
they bear instead of the rock they attack. The people regard Hamlet's
charge as an outburst of madness, and he presently lends credence to
this belief by singing with wild hilarity the drinking-song of the
previous act. The following strong and seething chorus of dismay is
again interrupted at the very end by Hamlet's mad song--
"Life is short and death is near;
We'll sing and drink while yet we may."
With a wild mocking laugh he falls into Horatio's arms as the king and
court withdraw.
The great feature of the fourth act is the scene between Hamlet and his
mother, but there is much besides. The scene represents the queen's
apartment in the palace, and the first number is Hamlet's soliloquy. He
blames himself and deems it cowardice that he did not strike the king
dead when he had the opportunity. Then follows the musical arrangement
of "To be or not to be," a speech so unsuited to music that Thomas has
cut it down to a few lines. Hamlet presently sees the king approaching,
and he conceals himself behind a curtain with the intention of attacking
him. But the king thinks himself alone, and in agony of mind he kneels
on the prie-dieu and prays. It is an impressive composition, this prayer
with its cathedral harmonies and blending accompaniment. Hamlet glides
softly toward the door, for he can not kill even his father's murderer
at prayer. The king, who has heard the footsteps, cries out in terror,
for he fancies it was the ghost of his brother. Polonius, the father of
Ophelia, quickly enters and reassures the king. They walk out arm in
arm, and from their few words it is gleaned that Polonius was an
accomplice to the crime. Hamlet hears them, and is horrified to learn
this fact about Ophelia's father. At this moment the queen and Ophelia
enter, and the former announces to Hamlet that it is her wish as well
as the king's that his marriage shall take place at once. The prince
blankly refuses to obey in spite of the queen's urging; but his heart
endures a struggle when the poor Ophelia sings of her grief and returns
to him his ring. The sweet minor strain in her song implies a sad
resignation that is more touching than intense lamentation. She goes out
weeping. The queen then turns to Hamlet and upbraids him for his
faithlessness. She presently recurs to the terrible scene at the play,
and utters the famous words, "Thou hast thy father much offended."
The scene which follows demands great dramatic ability of the queen, as
well as vocal strength. After a sharp and active recitative dialog, in
which Hamlet announces himself as her judge and no longer her son, she
sings a fine entreaty that the tenderness of the son may mitigate the
severity of the judge. It is a strong and powerful theme, but Hamlet is
obdurate. He contrasts the late king with the present one in words and
tones that make his mother cower. She again pleads for mercy and
forgiveness, and finally falls in a swoon as the stage is darkened and
the ghost appears. Hamlet trembles before this admonisher. The music of
the incantation is again heard, and the phantom bids Hamlet spare his
mother, but "fail not to avenge." As the ghost disappears the
instruments are weighted with that great and gloomy theme of revenge
which seems to descend and enwrap the whole scene like a dark, heavy
mist. The queen awakens; but there is little more seen or heard before
the curtain falls.