The facts seem almost to force this idea on us.  That it is less ‘romantic’ than the popular view is no argument against it.  And psychologically it is quite sound, for a frequent symptom of such melancholy as Hamlet’s is a more or less complete paralysis, or even perversion, of the emotion of love.  And yet, while feeling no doubt that up to a certain point it is true, I confess I am not satisfied that the explanation of Hamlet’s silence regarding Ophelia lies in it.  And the reason of this uncertainty is that scarcely any spectators or readers of Hamlet notice this silence at all; that I never noticed it myself till I began to try to solve the problem of Hamlet’s relation to Ophelia; and that even now, when I read the play through without pausing to consider particular questions, it scarcely strikes me.  Now Shakespeare wrote primarily for the theatre and not for students, and therefore great weight should be attached to the immediate impressions made by his works.  And so it seems at least possible that the explanation of Hamlet’s silence may be that Shakespeare, having already a very difficult task to perform in the soliloquies—­that of showing the state of mind which caused Hamlet to delay his vengeance—­did not choose to make his task more difficult by introducing matter which would not only add to the complexity of the subject but might, from its ‘sentimental’ interest, distract attention from the main point; while, from his theatrical experience, he knew that the audience would not observe how unnatural it was that a man deeply in love, and forced not only to renounce but to wound the woman he loved, should not think of her when he was alone.  But, as this explanation is no more completely convincing to me than the other, I am driven to suspend judgment, and also to suspect that the text admits of no sure interpretation. [This paragraph states my view imperfectly.]

This result may seem to imply a serious accusation against Shakespeare.  But it must be remembered that if we could see a contemporary representation of Hamlet, our doubts would probably disappear.  The actor, instructed by the author, would make it clear to us by looks, tones, gestures, and by-play how far Hamlet’s feigned harshness to Ophelia was mingled with real bitterness, and again how far his melancholy had deadened his love.

4

As we have seen, all the persons in Hamlet except the hero are minor characters, who fail to rise to the tragic level.  They are not less interesting on that account, but the hero has occupied us so long that I shall refer only to those in regard to whom Shakespeare’s intention appears to be not seldom misunderstood or overlooked.

It may seem strange that Ophelia should be one of these; and yet Shakespearean literature and the experience of teachers show that there is much difference of opinion regarding her, and in particular that a large number of readers feel a kind of personal irritation against her.  They seem unable to forgive her for not having been a heroine, and they fancy her much weaker than she was.  They think she ought to have been able to help Hamlet to fulfil his task.  And they betray, it appears to me, the strangest misconceptions as to what she actually did.