Hamlet is Inhuman :: Shakespeare Hamlet

Hamlet is Inhuman     Hamlet is inhuman. He has seen through humanity. And this inhuman cynicism, yet justifiable in this case, on the plane of causality and individual responsibility, is a deadly and venomous thing. Instinctively the creatures of earth-Laertes, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, league themselves with Claudius they are of his kind. They sever themselves from Hamlet. Laertes badly warns Ophelia against her intimacy with Hamlet, so does Polonius. They are, in fact, all leagued against him, they are puzzled by him or fear him he has no friend except Horatio, and Horatio, afterward the ghost scenes, becomes a queer shadowy character who rarely gets beyond Een so, my lord, My lord-, and suchlike phrases. The other persons are firmly drawn, in the round, creatures of flesh and blood. just Hamlet is not of flesh and blood, he is a spirit of bully intellect and cynicism and misery, without faith in himself or anyone else, murdering hi s love of Ophelia, on the doorway of insanity, taking delight in cruelty, torturing Claudius, wringing his mothers heart, a poison in the midst of the healthy bustle of the court. He is a superman among men. And he is a superman because he has walked and held converse with Death, and his consciousness works in terms of Death and the Negation of Cynicism. He has seen the truth, not alone of Denmark, but of humanity, of the earth and the truth is evil. Thus Hamlet is an element of evil in the present of Denmark. The poison of his mental existence spreads outwards among things of flesh and blood, like dosage eating into metal. They are helpless before his very inactivity and nightfall one after the other, like victims of an infectious disease. They are strong with the strong suit of health -but the demon of Hamlets mind is a stronger thing than they. Futilely they taste to get him out of their country anything to get rid of him, he is not safe. But he goes with a cyn ical smile, and is no sooner deceased than he is back again in their midst, meditating in graveyards, at home plate with Death. Not till it has slain all, is the demon that grips Hamlet satisfied.