HAMLET A FAT MAN.

I have seen on the stage several Hamlets, more or less successful in

that sublime dramatic creation of Shakspeare, to say nothing of

small-calfed personifications at private fancy balls. Young Booth, in

these days, is doubtless the most ideal and accurate interpreter of the

great Dane; although Mrs. Kemble's rendition is certainly beyond the

reach of hostile criticism.

In this paper I propose to consider Hamlet not as he is represented on

the stage, but as he is described in the original text. At the theatre,

he usually appears as a dark-complexioned, black-haired, beetle-browed,

and slender young man, wearing an intensely gloomy wig, eyebrows corked

into the blackness of preternatural bitterness, while on thin and

romantic legs, imprisoned in black silk tights, he struts across the

stage, the counterfeit presentment of the veritable prince.

I once read a brief line or two in a work by Goethe, alleging that

Hamlet was 'a fat man.' At first I was inclined to regard this as a joke

of the majestic German. Later reflection induced me to examine this

surmise in detail, and to conclude finally that the theory is true, and

that the enigma of Hamlet's character can be solved through calculations

of pinguitude.

Eurêka. Perfect tense, indicative mood, 'I have found it!' In fact, the

whole Hamlet problem must be regarded in an obese, or adipose point of

view. The Prince of Denmark is not the conventional Hamlet of the

theatre, nor the Hamlet of Shakspeare. He was a Northman, and like the

greater number of the inhabitants of Northern Europe, was, doubtless, a

blue-eyed and flaxen-haired blonde. My lord was far from appearing thin

or delicate; on the contrary, he carried on his belly a large

portmanteau well-rounded by the swell of the digesting nutriment.

That our honored prince was a fat man, is proved by his own confession,

as well as by the evidence of the queen. Tossed about in a hot desert of

doubt and despair, he exclaims in one of his incomparable soliloquies:

'_Oh! that this too, too solid flesh_ WOULD MELT!'

What thin man would melt away even in the hot solstice of June? In the

fencing scene, (Act IV.,) his flabby muscles are soon fatigued, and the

queen exclaims:

'_He's fat, and scant of breath:

Here, Hamlet, take my napkin, rub thy brows_.'

However, to be serious, it must be confessed that there are splendid

traits in the mental character of the prince; every grandeur or folly

can be found in him. From the lowest pit of despair, his soul debates

the question of suicide as a logical proposition, forgetting the divine

prohibition against 'self-slaughter.' Eloquence, genius, and brilliant

fancies, are constantly manifested, and also a gorgeous imagination.

It may be mentioned, incidentally, that Hamlet's character has been

contrasted with that of Orestes, the Greek, who, when he arrived at

years of manhood, avenged his father's death by assassinating his

mother, Clytemnestra, and her adulterer, OEgisthus. In other words, he

avenged a crime by a crime.

And now let us drop these serious comments, and return to the more

humorous side of our theory--the plumpness of the prince, overlooked as

a mere accident, by critics and actors. It is a physiological propriety

that he should be of a phlegmatic temperament--a temperament often

united to an acute intellect, but also, to a sluggish and heavy person.

A weak, wavering inactivity, fickleness of purpose, a keen sensibility,

or sensitiveness, are also noticeable; while the subtlety of his

theories is sharply penetrating, and forms the keystone to the arch of

his character.

Truly, Hamlet's intellect is that of a giant; his strength of will,

that of a child. He has, so to speak, no executive talent. He is the

doubting philosopher, the subtle metaphysician, the self-analyzer,

always 'thinking too precisely upon the event.' He sees so far into the

consequences of human action that he is fearful of taking decided steps.

He has the nerve to kill neither his uncle nor himself, although he

debates the latter question with great dexterity. He never _effected_

any one of the plans upon which he had deliberated. Any one who reads

_Hamlet_, under the influence of this theory, will see that it is

confirmed by every incident in the tragedy.

A series of accidents hurried the prince to the final catastrophe. His

was a lovely, great, and noble nature; but it lacked one element of

heroism--strength of will. It was an exquisite touch in the mighty poet

to make Hamlet gross in figure, as he was phlegmatic, inactive, and

irresolute in temperament. Had he been a thin, brown, choleric, and

nervous man, the tragedy would have ended in the first Act. Had he been

a fiery Italian, instead of a doubting, deliberating Dane; had he been

of a passionate, or yellow complexion, instead of a calm blonde; had he

possessed a wiry, high-strung, and nervous constitution; had he, in a

word, proved himself a man of action, and not a man of metaphysical

tendencies, his sword would have soon cut the perplexing meshes which

surrounded him, and he would have executed instant vengeance upon the

authors of his misfortune and disgrace. Else he would have put an end to

a life too wretched to be endured.

The conventional critic may smile at the conceit of a _fat_ Hamlet, but

I am satisfied that my theory is amply sustained by the text, as well as

by the true solution of the alleged knotty points of Shakspeare's mental

character, over which the ponderous but inflated brain of Dr. Johnson

stultified itself. He accuses the Avon bard of introducing spirits,

ghosts, myths, and fairies; of being guilty of exaggerations,

absurdities, vulgar expressions, and other naughtiness. (_Boswell's

Johnson_, Vol. IV. pp. 258, etc.) All of which proves that the Doctor

was sometimes prejudiced, ill-natured, jealous, and ponderously silly on

certain points.

But they who have cracked the kernel of this grand tragedy, and formed a

just conception of the real disposition and peculiarities of the true

hero, must admire and appreciate the marvelous skill of the great bard

who understands the relations between physiology and the passions, and

can analyze the temperament physical, as well as dissect the soul

immortal.

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The Continental Monthly, Vol. 1, No. 5, May, 1862 Devoted To Literature And National Policy · 第 35 / 98 题