ven so our blessed religion,
which has revealed deeper mysteries in the human soul than ever were
dreamt of by philosophy till she went hand-in-hand with faith, has
taught us to pay that worship to the symbols of purity and innocence,
which in darker times was paid to the manifestations of power: and
therefore do I think that the mighty intellect, the capacious, soaring,
penetrating genius of Hamlet may be represented, without detracting from
its grandeur, as reposing upon the tender virgin innocence of Ophelia,
with all that deep delight with which a superior nature contemplates the
goodness which is at once perfect in itself, and of itself unconscious.
That Hamlet regards Ophelia with this kind of tenderness,--that he loves
her with a love as intense as can belong to a nature in which there is,
(I think,) much more of contemplation and sensibility than action or
passion--is the feeling and conviction with which I have always read the
play of Hamlet.

As to whether the mind of Hamlet be, or be not, touched with
madness--this is another point at issue among critics, philosophers, ay,
and physicians. To me it seems that he is not so far disordered as to
cease to be a responsible human being--that were too pitiable: but
rather that his mind is shaken from its equilibrium, and bewildered by
the horrors of his situation--horrors which his fine and subtle
intellect, his strong imagination, and his tendency to melancholy, at
once exaggerate, and take from him the power either to endure, or "by
opposing, end them." We do not see him as a lover, nor as Ophelia first
beheld him; for the days when he importuned her with love were before
the opening of the drama--before his father's spirit revisited the
earth; but we behold him at once in a sea of troubles, of perplexities,
of agonies, of terrors. Without remorse, he endures all its horrors;
without guilt, he endures all its shame. A loathing of the crime he is
called on to revenge, which revenge is again abhorrent to his nature,
has set him at strife with himself; the supernatural visitation has
perturbed his soul to its inmost depths; all things else, all interests,
all hopes, all affections, appear as futile, when the majestic shadow
comes lamenting from its place of torment "to shake him with thoughts
beyond the reaches of his soul!" His love for Ophelia is then ranked by
himself among those trivial, fond records which he has deeply sworn to
erase from his heart and brain. He