that has made Shakespeare everything from a pious Catholic to a champion
of atheistic democracy. If, however, the readers of _Luthersk Ugeskrift_
were led to read Shakespeare after being assured that they might do so
safely, the article served a useful purpose.

Eight years later the distinguished litterateur and critic, Just Bing,
wrote in _Vidar_[12], one of the best periodicals that Norway has ever
had, a brief character study of Ophelia, which, though it contains
nothing original, stands considerably higher as literary criticism than
anything we have yet considered, with the sole exception of Bjornson's
article in _Aftenbladet_, twenty-three years earlier.

[12. 1880, pp. 61-71.]

Bing begins by defining two kinds of writers. First, those whose power
is their keen observation. They see things accurately and they secure
their effects by recording just what they see. Second, those writers
who do not merely see external phenomena with the external eye, but
who, through a miraculous intuition, go deeper into the soul of man.
Moliere is the classical example of the first type; Shakespeare of the
second. To him a chance utterance reveals feelings, passions, whole
lives--though he probably never developed the consequences of a chance
remark to their logical conclusion without first applying to them close
and searching rational processes. But it is clear that if a critic is to
analyze a character of Shakespeare's, he must not be content merely to
observe. He must feel with it, live with it. He must do so with special
sympathy in the case of Ophelia.

The common characteristic of Shakespeare's women is their devotion to
the man of their choice and their confidence that this choice is wise
and happy. The tragedy of Ophelia lies in the fact that outward evidence
is constantly shocking that faith. Laertes, in his worldly-wise fashion,
first warns her. She cries out from a broken heart though she promises
to heed the warning. Then comes Polonius with his cunning wisdom. But
Ophelia's faith is still unshaken. She promises her father, however, to
be careful, and her caution, in turn, arouses the suspicion of Hamlet.
Even after his wild outburst against her he still loves her. He begs her
to believe in him and to remember him in her prayers. But suspicion goes
on. Ophelia is caught between devotion and duty, and the grim events
that crowd upon her plunge her to sweet, tragic death. Nothing could be
more revealing than our