Blue Beard. By F. W. N. Bayley. With Illustrations humorous and Orr & Co. numerous. Did we call the Tale of a Tiger the most comical of all series? here is Blue Beard, the old, truly, and well-beloved friend of our youth,-what shall we say for him? We candidly confess we have not read this account of Blue Beard,— it is written in the style of inimitable Ingoldsby,-but we have seen it. The cuts, humorous and numerous, attracted our attention; they tell the tale, and a comical one. We tried every now and then to look at the print, but one of the cuts, numerous and humorous, would then draw off our eye, and away we went in a new burst of laughter, till the cuts engrossed the whole of our attention. If people wish their books to be read, they must not make the pictures so attractive. No one cares for a description of that which is fully and perfectly presented to his eye. Mr. Bayley's artists might make together a comic Retzsch, and illustrate immortal works of the nursery; but he need not quarrel with the text. A Catechism of Botany. By Ann Pratt. Suttaby. This is a very neat and elegant little introduction to botany, in a concise and easy form, including the Linnæan system, with organography and physiology, together with practical information on forming herbaria, consulting a florist, &c.; and it is exceedingly well adapted for those who wish to gain a correct general idea of this elegant and interesting study. The Year-Book of Natural History, for Young Persons. By Mrs. Loudon. Murray. All Mrs. Loudon's compilations are useful and entertaining; and every age is in turn favoured by the results of her powers of research. The present is a book of that character which children cannot too frequently be induced to study. With every month of the year is given an account of those subjects of natural history which, during its course, are most likely to attract the child's attention. Thus, in the present month, July, the chapter is on water-beetles, the rose-chafer, the cock-chafer, the dragon-fly, may-flies, &c. In December, frost and snow, the holly, the misletoe, and the robin-red breast. Such books as these are valuable by adding experience of simple facts to the observation of the child, and teaching it to think of a snail otherwise than as a devourer of cabbages, and to find in a bee something even more than its sting and its honey. THE KING'S COLLEGE MAGAZINE. AUGUST, 1812. DIFFICULT POINTS AND PASSAGES OF No. II. HAVING examined the two most important points in the tragedy of Hamlet, I now proceed, according to my design, to take into consideration the principal disputed and difficult passages in this play. The first of these which we have to encounter is one which has set critics by the ears to an extent scarcely credible, and the result of all the controversy which has been thrown away upon it, is, that when we have done we find ourselves much about where we were when we began. The passage to which I allude is that in Act I. Scene 2. "KING. But now, my cousin Hamlet, and my sɔn,” "HAMLET. A little more than kin, and less than kind." To explain this passage, Dr. Johnson has stated, that kind is the Teutonic word for child; and he further says, that the meaning of Hamlet's speech is, "I am somewhat more than cousin to you, and less than son." I confess I do not feel at all satisfied with this explanation. The passage interpreted thus, would be, to say the least, a very tame one-and by no means the observation with which Shakspere would be likely to introduce to us the philosophic and metaphysical prince of Denmark. Malone also supplies us with a note upon the passage which means exactly nothing; but if the passage be well considered, a very obvious, and very satisfactory meaning can be extracted from this sentence. In some editions the line is printed thus :— "HAMLET (aside,) A little more than kin, and less than kind!" which I take to be correct. Standing thus, the line may, I think, with a little consideration, be made plain. We must remember that Hamlet is standing in the midst of the court-the only one among them all who still retains the "inky coat," which the decease of his father causes him to wear. From the commencement of the scene, during the time in which Claudius has been discussing with such ill-timed levity the death of the late king, and his own incestuous marriage, Hamlet has remained perfectly silent. More than this, Shakspere (admirable painter that he was!) has given us a clue to discover how he looked.-" How is it that the clouds hang on you still?" is amply sufficient to furnish us with a picture of that terrible silence which, on the king's calling him cousin and son, is at length broken by the exclamation which we are now about to explain. After so long and so expressive a silence, we are anxious to know how Hamlet's thoughts were employed. This sentence tells us all. It is as if he should say— "Is it really so?—am I indeed more than your cousin? Strange! that with so strong a bond of relationship should exist so little kindly feeling or natural affection. Strange! that the disgust and hatred which I feel for this man should exist in the mind of a son." This I think is the strongest and most reasonable meaning which can be given to this remarkable passage, and it is one which I think most of our poet's admirers will be glad to admit, simply because it is the only forcible one which has yet been assigned. A point for observation, although a very trifling one, yet one which has strongly fastened on my attention, and given me some little pleasure, occurs at the very commencement of the fourth Scene of the first Act.-The scene opens at midnight upon the platform of the castle at Elsinore, in that cold moonlight season, which tells us that winter is at hand. Hamlet is putting into execution his determination to watch for his father's spirit, and is accompanied by his friend and fellow-collegian Horatio, and Marcellus, a petty officer, who is on guard at this part of the platform. After a silence which, we may safely infer from the conversation which follows it,-for the style of the latter appears like the commencement rather than the continuation of a conference, has lasted a considerable time, Hamlet abruptly, as if conscious how absorbed he has been, remarks, as most men do who feel the necessity of saying something, although little inclined to converse, on the weather-and then proceeds to ask the hour. Horatio, who has probably been occupied, like Hamlet, in contemplating on the strangeness of the event they were waiting to witness, replies, "I think it lacks of twelve;" but the rude sentinel, whose mind was less occupied than his companion's, instantly corrects him by telling him it has struck. Simple, and even ridiculous as this point may appear to many, it is, nevertheless, one worthy of remark, because it lays open before us the minds of the three characters, and presents to us a view, not only of their outward demeanour, but of "that within which passeth show," and which no other than the great Bard himself would have had the skill to place before us. Another remarkable passage which (with the exception of Warburton alone) all the editors have either omitted to take notice of, or vainly attempted to explain, is that occurring in the second Scene of the second Act.-" For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god, kissing carrion-Have you a daughter?" Now, however much I am inclined to admire the originality of Warburton's explanation of this passage, and I certainly do admire the ingenious way in which he has treated it, I cannot but consider it to be far-fetched, and not altogether to the purpose. Hamlet has just before said that "to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand." "For," argues he, " carrion as we are—even the glorious sun, perfect as he is, breeds only maggots in us; he gives us light, but we repay him putrefaction; in short, how good things soever fall to man, he turns them all to evil." He then proceeds to apply this to Ophelia. "Have you a daughter?" he asks of Polonius-" Let her not walk in the sun:"-" let her not go from the shelter of your roof. Her beauty and virtue will have no other effect upon that carrion-inan, than that of provoking her own dishonour,even as the sun breeds but maggots." This I take to be the true meaning of the passage; nor can I, for one moment, admit Warburton's assertion, that Hamlet alludes to Ophelia here for no other purpose than that of turning the conversation. In the end of the second Scene of the fourth Act, we again encounter a passage which demands some explanation, more particularly as none of the editors have ventured to "throw away their brains" upon it. When Hamlet is told by Rosencrantz that he "must tell where the body is, and go with them to the king," he replies, "The body is with the king, but the king is not with the body." Here I must observe, that throughout the whole of this play, but more particularly while he is counterfeiting madness, the sayings of Hamlet carry with them very often a double meaning; the one intended for the ears of the auditor, the other for his own enjoyment. The passage under consideration is precisely one of these. Catching at the words "body" and "king," he applies them to one of those deeper observations which he at all times indulges in. "The body is with the king," inasmuch as the king is the head of the body (or people), and supported by the body; "but the king is not with the body"-the people do not really love the king-they know him to be an usurper. "Heads bow, knees bend, eyes watch around a throne, And hands obey-our hearts are still our own," says Byron; and this was probably the state of affairs between Claudius and his people; for when, almost immediately afterwards, Laertes returns, he collects a power against the king from among his own people. "Save yourself, my lord; The ocean, overpeering of his list, Eats not the flats with more impetuous haste, O'erbears your officers: the rabble call him, Lord; Antiquity forgot, custom not known, The ratifiers and props of every word, They cry, Choose we; Laertes shall be king!' Caps, hands, and tongues applaud it to the clouds, This, then, I think, throws a light upon the passage in question, and to my own view completely explains it. A passage of a similar kind occurs in the second Scene of the third Act. In answer to the king's inquiry, "How fares our cousin Hamlet?" he replies, catching at the word "fare,"-" Excellent i' faith ;" (I fare) “ of the chameleon's dish. I eat the air, promise-crammed :" which is evidently an allusion to Claudius's usurpation, and his own right to the throne. The king has said "Let the world take note, You are the most immediate to our throne;" ACT 1. Scene 2. promising him that he shall succeed him. When, therefore, Claudius asks Hamlet how he "fares," Hamlet replies, "I feed on nothing. I eat the air, promise-crammed;" that is, "You do not allow me to fare well: you take the throne, which is my right, and cram me with a bare promise. Even capons cannot live on air : how then can I fare well ? Afterwards, too, in his conversation with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, he, knowing that every |