With Mr. TREE's impersonation of _Hamlet_ most London playgoers
are by this time acquainted, though not yet familiar. It is a
most interesting performance, especially to those who remember
the inauguration of startling new departures by CHARLES FECHTER.
The question for every fresh _Hamlet_ must always be, "How can I
differentiate my _Hamlet_ from all previous _Hamlets_? What can I
do that nobody has as yet thought of doing?" "To be or not to be"
_Hamlet_, "that is the question"; whether 'tis better continuously to
suffer the tortures of uncertainty as to what you might have achieved
had you essayed the part, or to take up the study of it, and ceasing
to shiver on the bank, leave off your damnable faces, and plunge in?
Mr. TREE has plunged, and is going on swimmingly.
Mrs. TREE's _Ophelia_ sane, is charming. Her distraught _Ophelia_ is
very mad indeed, and her method in her madness is excellent.
[Illustration: "I am thy Father's Ghost!"]
There is a curious monotony in some of the stage-business. Thus,
_Ophelia_ pauses in her exit and comes up quietly behind the
absent-minded Prince as if to play bo-peep with him: then, later on,
after his apparently brutal treatment of her, _Hamlet_ returns, and,
while he is stooping and in tears, he kisses her hair and runs away
noiselessly as if this also were another part of the same game. Then
again, in the Churchyard, after the scandalous brawling (brought
about by the stupid ignorance of a dunderheaded ecclesiastic, to whose
Bishop _Laertes_ ought to have immediately reported him), _Hamlet_
returns to weep and throw flowers into the grave. Now excellent
"returns" are dear to the managerial heart, and consoling to his
pocket, when they attest the overflowing attendance of "friends in
front;" but when "returns" are on the stage, their excellence may be
questioned on the score of monotony. Now, as to the Churchyard Scene,
permit me to make a suggestion:--the Second Gravedigger has been
commissioned by the First Gravedigger, with money down, to go to a
neighbouring publican of the name of YAUGHAN, pronounced Yogan or
Yawn,--probably the latter, on account either of his opening his mouth
wide, or of his being a sleepy-headed fellow,--and fetch a stoop of
liquor. Now, when all the turmoil is over, the remaining gravedigger
would at once set to work, as in fact he does in this scene at the
Haymarket; but here he just shovels a handful of mould into the grave,
and then, without rhyme or reason (with both of which he has been
plentifully supplied by SHAKSPEARE), suddenly away he goes, merely to
allow for the "business" of _Hamlet's_ re-entrance. But why shouldn't
there be here, prior to the return of _Hamlet_, a re-entrance of the
Second Gravedigger, as if coming back from friend YAUGHAN's with
the pot of ale? The sight of this would attract First Gravedigger,
and take the thirsty soul most readily from his work to discuss
the refreshment in some shady nook. Then by all means let _Hamlet_
return to pour out his grief; and on this picture ought the Curtain
effectively descend.
A novel point introduced by Mr. TREE is that his _Hamlet_,
entertaining an affectionate remembrance of the late YORICK, assumes a
friendly and patronising air towards YORICK's successor, a Court Fool,
apparently so youthful that he may still be supposed to be learning
his business. So when His Royal Highness _Hamlet_ has what he
considers "a good thing" to say, Mr. TREE places the novice in jesting
near himself, and pointedly speaks at him; as e.g., when, in reply to
the King's inquiry after his health, he tells him that he "eats air
promise-crammed," adding, with a sly look at the Court Fool, "you
cannot feed capons so." Whereat the Fool, put into a difficult
position, through his fear of offending the Prince by _not_ laughing,
or angering the King (his employer) by laughing, has to acknowledge
the Prince's witticism with a deferential, but somewhat deprecatory,
snigger.
Again, when _Hamlet_ is "going to have a lark" with old _Polonius_--a
proceeding in exquisitely bad taste by the way--Mr. TREE's _Hamlet_
attracts the young Court Jester's attention to his forthcoming
novelty. Now this time, as the repartee is about as rude a thing
as any vulgar cad of an 'ARRY might have uttered, the professional
Jester, who evidently does not owe his appointment to the Lord
Chamberlain's favour, and is exempt from his jurisdiction, grins
all over his countenance, and hops away to explain the jest to some
of the courtiers, while _Hamlet_ himself, to judge by his smiling
countenance, is clearly very much pleased with his own performance
in showing a Jester how the fool should be played. And this notion
is consistent with the character of a Prince who takes upon himself
to lecture the Actors on their own art. There is no subtler touch in
SHAKSPEARE's irony than his putting these instructions to players
in the mouth of a noble amateur. Of the revival, as a whole, one
may truthfully say, _Ça donne à penser_, and, indeed, the study of
_Hamlet_ is inexhaustible.
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