O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven!
Hamlet, coming upon his murderous uncle in his prayers, exclaims:—
Now might I do it, pat, while he is praying;
And now I’ll do ’t—and so he goes to heaven:
And so am I revenged?
The omission or retention of this scene might well be a matter of dispute, for while it represents the guilty Claudius miserable and contrite, even in the height of his success, it also portrays the anticipated revenge of Hamlet in so fearful a light, that he stands there, not the human instrument of divine retribution, but with all the diabolical cravings of Satan himself. I leave this question to abler critics, and, in the meantime, our play is finished, amid shouts of delight and calls before the curtain. It is but half-past nine, yet this is a late hour for a German theatre, where they rarely perform more than one piece, and that seldom exceeding two hours in duration. Descending to the street, wrapped in the recollections of the gorgeous poem whose beauties still echo in our ears, we are vulgar enough to relish hot sausages and Bavarian beer.
An hour later we pace our half-lighted Johannis Strasse, seeking the portal of our house amid the gloom. Suddenly we are startled by the tramp of a heavy foot, and the clang and rattle of a steel weapon as it strikes upon the ground. A burly voice assails us: “Whither are you going?”
Is this Bernardo, wandered from the ramparts in search of the ghost of Hamlet’s father?
Not so: it is but one of the night-watch, armed with an enormous halbert which might have done good service in the thirty years’ war. The faithful nachtwächter strikes it upon the ground with the butt-end at regular intervals, so that sinful depredators may have timely notice of his approach. As it has a large hook at the back it is said to be admirably adapted for catching thieves by the leg, if its opportune clattering does not keep them out of its reach.
We render a good account of ourselves, and are duly escorted to our home.
CHAPTER VI.
the german workman.