In crisis, we are revealed

Shakespeare’s “Hamlet” and how our responses to evil unmask us

Hamlet and His Mother by Eugène Delacroix

I’m reading through Shakespeare’s plays in an attempt to make sense of the world. Today I’m writing about “Hamlet.” For a quick reference to posts on previous plays, click here. Next week, “The Merry Wives of Windsor.”

Children inhabit the stories they’re told. They don’t simply listen; they adopt characters that speak to them. The “Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle” of mid-century Ralphie. The princess dresses, tattered and soiled from countless playtimes. The Hogwarts House colours worn (by Muggles) with pride. Before children know who they are, they attach themselves to characters in stories, adorning themselves with identities to try them on for fit.

In primary school classrooms where we learned about the Holocaust and WWII, teachers tried to engage us in the morals of these histories: what would you have done if you were there? I remember one young would-be Putsch assassin who claimed he would have killed Hitler. In later grades when we learned more of how European lives were affected by the war, some identified with the Resistance fighters; some with the quiet strength of a young girl who diarised her years in hiding. Some, I now know, were drawn to the strength by force of the aggressors, but in my school days they would have kept this hidden as if in an Amsterdam attic. Without knowing one’s own character, it’s possible to think you would be the person to run into a burning building to save others.  It’s easy to think the best of your heroic self.

Every life encounters moments of crisis that strip away the costumes that fit too loosely, revealing the truth of the person. The New York Times’ interactive article “How the Russian Government Silences Wartime Dissent” (29 December 2023) reports on how Russia is suppressing any measure of dissent against its war in Ukraine. No act is too small to result in apprehension and conviction: a message scribbled on a bathroom wall, wearing the colors blue and yellow, a request to a DJ for a Ukrainian song. Fines equivalent to a half-month’s salary are levied for the smallest infraction, although some have been sentenced to 25 years in a labor camp. Neighbors, classmates, and colleagues turn each other in. Even worse than the fines are the social costs the outspoken bear: loss of work, friends, ostracism. Some have to flee the country. And yet, the resistance continues.

“Mr. Kolesnikov, the political scholar, who is based in Moscow, sees the law as an indicator of Russia’s descent into an even more controlling, totalitarian system, with anyone anywhere speaking against the Kremlin becoming vulnerable to prosecution.

“And yet, some people still protest. In October, a judge ordered Anna Sliva, 18, to pay a 50,000 ruble fine — about $500 at the exchange rate then — for holding up a sign at a Moscow memorial to the Soviet gulag labor camps: “Stop killing and imprisoning civilians.” In an interview, Ms. Sliva said that her action would give her an answer if she were to have children who asked her: “Mom, what did you do when the war came?”

Americans once heard wartime stories within the context of something that happens “over there.” That can no longer be the case, when politicians call for the extermination of classes of people and the removal of library books that tell painful truths. We must all ask ourselves ‘what did we do’ when evil came for our neighbors, domestically and around the world?

Let’s pick up “Hamlet,” which ponders this very question.  

Summary

We enter Denmark through darkened ramparts, where nightwatchmen stand guard without knowing the cause. Although they can barely see each other through the murk, they catch glimpses of the late king’s ghost on subsequent nights. The ghost wants something of them, but doesn’t speak. One of the watchmen is Horatio, close friend to Hamlet, who is the son of the late king. Horatio’s amazed by the ghost and thinks it must be in search of Hamlet. He must tell his friend about this strange sighting.

Hamlet is home in Denmark, having taken a break from his university study in Wittenberg to attend first his father’s funeral and then, soon after, the marriage of his mother Gertrude to his uncle Claudius, the new king. Though he has little information, having been away when his father died, Hamlet smells the stink of something rotten in the state of Denmark.  

We learn that the kingdom is on alert because of news that young Fortinbras of Norway is en route to avenge the death of his father King Fortinbras and Denmark’s appropriation of Norwegian lands. In a battle between Norway and Denmark, King Hamlet had killed King Fortinbras, whose brother (‘old Norway’) rules the country despite his infirmities. Claudius sends word to ‘old Norway,’ warning him to keep young Fortinbras at bay. Meanwhile, Claudius has ordered the watch to guard against invaders.

Hamlet’s in an ill-temper with his uncle and mother, his morbid thoughts of suicide (“To be, or not to be”) yielding to a stronger passion: vengeance against them. Horatio approaches, telling him of his father’s ghost and inviting him to see for himself. They make arrangements for Hamlet to observe the next night watch.

Polonius, King Claudius’ chief advisor, has a son, Laertes, and a daughter, Ophelia, both dutiful to their father. Laertes, like Hamlet, had returned to Denmark for the late king’s funeral and the subsequent wedding. These events now concluded, Laertes bids farewell to his family before embarking to Paris.

Polonius weighs him down with plenty of advice (“to thine own self be true…”) and Laertes does the same to his sister Ophelia, who’s being courted by Hamlet. After Laertes leaves, Polonius arranges for someone to spy on his son in Paris and even seed false rumors of easily-disproved minor faults of his son, to ensure his son earns an impeccable reputation as a foundation for a successful career.

Hamlet attends the night watch and witnesses the ghost’s appearance. The ghost beckons Hamlet to speak with him. He tells his son he was murdered by Claudius (‘murder most foul’) while sleeping in his garden. He asks Hamlet to avenge his death, but leave Gertrude ‘to heaven.’  Hamlet swears to avenge his father’s death. He makes his companions, who witnessed the scene, swear to keep secret what they’ve seen, and the ghost, not trusting their commitment, demands that they swear three times.

Claudius receives word from ‘old Norway’ that he’s extracted a promise from Fortinbras to not take up arms against Denmark. Claudius is satisfied that he’s averted the risk of invasion.

Hamlet decides to act as if he’s mad, preparing a way to murder his uncle. He performs outrageously in view of others, generating rumors of his distressed mind. Polonius, who’s been spying on both his children, has convinced Ophelia to yield up her correspondence with Hamlet. He brings one of Hamlet’s letters to Claudius and Gertrude, to warn them of the madness that Hamlet is affecting. They decide to arrange for Hamlet to visit his mother in her chambers, where Polonius and Claudius will be hiding behind a wall tapestry to eavesdrop.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern arrive and quickly become agents for Claudius. Acquaintances of Hamlet at university, they claim a closer friendship than Hamlet acknowledges. They bring news that they invited a troupe of actors whom Hamlet knows. Hamlet embraces the idea, seizing on this opportunity to further his revenge plot. He gives the troupe a play he wants them to perform at court, and asks them if they’ll include a dozen or so lines he’ll script. They readily accept.

When Ophelia next meets with Hamlet, she finds him highly distressed and in full madman mode. He berates her, mocks her honesty, and warns her off (“Get thee to a nunnery”). Ophelia is overwhelmed by his behavior, thinking he’s lost all sanity, which she reports to Claudius and Polonius after the meeting.

The court assembles to see the performance by the acting troupe. The play (Hamlet calls it “The Mousetrap”, by which he hopes to catch a guilty king) begins with a pantomime of a king laying down for a nap in his garden. Another character approaches the sleeping king, taking his crown for his own, and pours something in his ear. The king character mimes dying. The other character woos the late king’s wife, who reluctantly concedes to him. After this astonishing pantomime, the play begins, with the other character—the king’s brother—declaiming that he had poured poison into the king’s ear, thereby winning both the crown and the queen. Claudius, in the audience, is enraged by the fictional account of his crime, and leaves the performance.

Claudius meets with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to tell them that he’s going to send Hamlet off to England, in consideration of his madness. He orders the two of them to accompany Hamlet on the ship, and lets them know he’s preparing letters for them to carry on the journey.

As Hamlet walks to Gertrude’s suite for his meeting with her, he sees Claudius kneeling, seemingly in prayer. He considers killing his uncle, then reckons he doesn’t want to kill him when his soul is spotless from recent prayer, so he moves on. Ironically, Claudius arises after Hamlet exits and acknowledges that he’s been so preoccupied with the murder he committed and his coverup that he couldn’t pray.

Although Claudius has decided to stay behind, Polonius arrives at Gertrude’s chamber and hides behind a wall covering to overhear their conversation. Hamlet chastises his mother and demands that she denounce her marriage. Hearing a noise behind the wall covering, Hamlet—thinking he has Claudius caught in a compromising situation—lunges at the tapestry with his knife. The body that tumbles out is not his uncle, but Polonius.

Gertrude, distraught, is desperate to get Hamlet out of the kingdom to flee being charged with Polonius’ murder. Claudius, pleased that he failed to accompany Polonius on the ill-fated eavesdropping mission, promotes the arrangements he’s made for Hamlet to travel to England, for his ‘safety.’ Hamlet agrees to the journey and departs.  

Fortinbras of Norway arrives in Denmark with an army. He camps outside Elsinore castle and sends word to Claudius of his intentions to storm his kingdom.

Ophelia has been driven mad by her father’s murder by the man whom she had loved, and although everyone at court notices how unwell she is, no one seeks to protect her. She drowns herself in grief-stricken madness.

Horatio, Hamlet’s only real friend, receives a letter from Hamlet that says his ship was overtaken by pirates, he was captured, and he’s now free and returning to Denmark. He promises to tell Horatio the whole story upon his return.

Laertes returns from Paris, enraged by the deaths of his father and sister, for which he blames Hamlet fully. He speaks to Claudius of his intentions to kill Hamlet, which naturally Claudius encourages.

When Hamlet returns, we learn the full story of what happened on the ship. Hamlet had seen a letter bearing the royal seal in Rosencrantz’ and Guildenstern’s possession. When they were asleep, he opened the letter and discovered that Claudius was writing to the English king, asking him to kill Hamlet for him. Hamlet destroyed the letter, substituting one that asked the English king to kill the bearers of the letter, then sealed it with his father’s royal seal. The next night, the pirates came aboard the ship and Hamlet escaped and was able to return to Denmark.

As Hamlet and Horatio approach Elsinore, they find two clowns digging a grave, and Hamlet muses on the previous lives of the skulls they’ve unearthed. One of the grave diggers can identify the skull in Hamlet’s hand: a court jester in King Hamlet’s court named Yorick, whom young Hamlet had known as a child. Appalled by the morbid stench and the brutal reality of death to someone he knew personally, Hamlet discards the skull.

The mourners approach with a body; he’s surprised to see that it’s a royal retinue, and soon learns that Ophelia is being laid to rest. Laertes, grief-stricken, jumps into the grave with her. Hamlet tries to console him, seemingly oblivious to Laertes’ intentions for him.

Laertes challenges Hamlet to a fencing match; Hamlet accepts. Claudius and Laertes collude to ensure Hamlet dies at the match: Laertes will dip his sword into a poison to ensure that regardless the depth of an injury, Hamlet will die of poisoning if not a fatal strike. Claudius says he’ll also poison a glass of wine, taking the belt-and-braces approach to murdering a troublesome child.

Hamlet arrives at the match unconcerned about the outcome. He doesn’t see Laertes as a threat, and he’s confident of his fencing skills. He considers this a sporting event, not a duel.

Before the match begins, Claudius makes a show of pouring out several glasses of wine and drinking a glass. As they fence, Hamlet is awarded the first two points, touching Laertes with his sword. Claudius offers a drink to Hamlet, who waves it off. To Claudius’ horror, Gertrude takes the offered glass and downs the wine. Laertes manages to land a hit on Hamlet. As they continue to fight, they drop their swords and scramble; by chance, Hamlet picks up Laertes’ poisoned sword and wounds him. They are both now poisoned by the sword.

Gertrude falls. Claudius falsely claims she’s swooning at the sight of her son’s blood, but Gertrude, finally realizing her husband’s villainy, assets that she’s been poisoned by the wine intended for Hamlet. She dies. Laertes, realizing that he has been the author of his own death, tells Hamlet that he had poisoned his sword and Hamlet has only moments to live. Hamlet stabs Claudius, who dies along with Hamlet. Horatio bids his friend adieu:

HORATIO
    Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince,
    And flights of angels sing thee to they rest—
    Why does the drum come hither?
-Act 5 Scene 2

The drum announces the arrival of Fortinbras, who’s greeted by a stage piled with corpses. An ambassador has come from England; he announces the deaths of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (closing the loop on that plot line while increasing the casualty count). The ambassador asks who ordered their deaths; Horatio claims Hamlet never gave the order. He then sets the stage to tell another story, that of the play “Hamlet”:

HORATIO
    But since so jump upon this bloody question,
    You from the Polack wars, and you from England, 
    Are here arrived, give order that these bodies
    High on a stage be placèd to the view;
    And let me speak to th’ yet unknowing world
    How these things came about. So shall you hear
    Of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts,
    Of accidental judgements, casual slaughters, 
    Of deaths put on by cunning and forced cause;
    And, in this upshot, purposes mistook
    Fall’n on th’inventors’ heads. All this can I
    Truly deliver.
-Act 5 Scene 2

Fortinbras is keen to hear the story, after which he intends to claim the lands for which he came. The play ends waiting for the story of Hamlet to be told.

Thoughts            

That the Denmark of this play is rotten is unmistakable: from its inception it’s riven by distrust and cloaked in deception. We’re told that this is a radical departure from the kingdom under the previous King Hamlet, establishing Claudius’ regicide as the first cause for the evil that’s befallen the kingdom.

Hamlet trusts only Horatio. With good reason he mistrusts Claudius and Gertrude and they him. But Polonius doesn’t trust his own children; this isn’t a healthy state of affairs.

Hamlet, in his youth, is both fascinated by death and fearful of it. He’s not the warrior his father was; he vacillates and plays at taking meaningful action rather than moving with purpose, as Laertes does. He vilifies his mother, yet wants her to save herself. He’d really like the world to be the good place he thought it was in his youth, rather than the morally compromised one in reality.

The play places King Hamlet’s murder central to the play; how the characters respond to this pivotal fact determines their actions and fates. Claudius’ only motivation is self-preservation. He won Gertrude by means of the murder, much as Denmark won Norway’s lands in the previous battle. Polonius colludes with Claudius to promote himself and his family. He uses his children to secure his place in the kingdom. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern likewise use their acquaintanceship with Hamlet to get close to the king, hoping for advancement. Laertes is blindly antagonistic, his judgement impaired by vengeance.

Gertrude’s motivations are seemingly ambiguous. She’s portrayed as being somewhat reluctant to marry Claudius, but in fact she gave in soon enough—as Hamlet memorably puts it:

HAMLET
    Thrift, thrift, Horatio. The funeral baked meats
    Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. 
-Act 1 Scene 2

A widowed queen marrying the new king, who may have even been related to her former husband, was a familiar tale. In Elizabethan theatre and the histories it depicted, woman generally had little agency, especially when the suitor had vanquished the husband. Gertrude seems naïve in trusting her husband, and she appears to be alarmed at Hamlet’s accusations against Claudius. She trusts her husband when he pours wine for Hamlet, and meets her death because of it.

But as Hamlet insists in his rant against his mother, ‘seeming’ isn’t honesty, and ignorance in the face of evil isn’t an excuse for collaboration. Claudius needed the cover of Gertrude, beloved queen to the kingdom, to cloak himself in the robes of respect worn by his brother.

Gertrude was, at best, willingly blind to Claudius’ crimes. She should have suspected him of his intentions against her son. She should have used the power afforded by her position, and listened to her son. Consider Henry VI’s wife, Queen Margaret, who—having kicked her weaker husband to the sidelines—leads an army to protect her kingdom and her son’s inheritance. Shakespeare wrote many strong female characters who would never have accepted Claudius’ schemes so credulously. Gertrude allows herself to be co-opted. She tolerated the questionable circumstances of her husband’s death, which even her absent son found suspect, and she accepted her son’s endangerment.

Who would you be? What would you do?

As I write this, countries across the globe are torn by wide distrust borne of opposing world views. Allegiances are being forged to opposing sides in war zones many time zones away. The world has no shortage of Shakespearean Denmarks, in which citizens must claim who they are amidst the moral rot that invades their homelands.

“Hamlet” provides us with an array of choices to be made when confronting evil: voluntary conscription to enforce harmful policies, collaboration, emotional chaos, blind antagonism. As you count the bodies that had adopted these options in the play, none of them outlived the rotten state of affairs.

What does survive is the art of storytelling. Through storytelling, it’s possible to create a new order, one that explains and informs. One that breathes new life into a hollow core and restores the moral universe. One that inspires both friends and foes to be their better selves.

Claim Horatio for your model. Stand up against evil and corruption so that you can tell your story with pride to your children and grandchildren. And also, listen to the storytellers. Through them a new world, an inspiring one, can arise.

Ellie’s Corner

Time out

Our daughter visited for the holidays, which was the best present ever. Ellie played a little too rough, and had to take a time-out. She says she’s very sorry.

Thanks for reading,