Nota Bene Roundtable discussion of Shakespeare’s Hamlet: Act Two with Commentary by Ed Champion
Act II: SUMMARY
(for those so inclined, please listen here to Nigel Beale’s conversation with the wonderfully enthusiastic and erudite Prof. Joseph Khoury on Hamlet, Acts One and Two)
Polonius tells Reynaldo to spy on his son Laertes in Paris. Polonius learns from Ophelia that a disheveled Hamlet met her, looking ‘As if he’d been loosed from hell’, perused her face at length, in short, acted crazily, and left. Polonius believes Hamlet’s odd behaviour is ‘the very ecstasy of love, resulting from Ophelia’s repelling of his letters and denial of access. Her rejection of him, based on her father’s orders. Polonius eventually ( More matter less art) tells the King and Queen his theory.
King Claudius instructs courtiers Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to find out what is causing Hamlet’s strange "transformation," or change of character. Queen Gertrude suggests that only King Hamlet’s death and her recent remarriage could be upsetting Hamlet.
We learn that Fortinbras’ movements have been curtailed. Hamlet quickly determines that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are no friends, but agents of the King. Hamlet provides one of the most beautiful, moving descriptions of depression ever written. He meets players, discusses inserting 12-16 lines of his own to a play they will perform, to prove to himself that Claudius is indeed guilty of killing his father, as the Ghost has told him…
ACT ll: COMMENTARY by ED CHAMPION
I’ve always had a soft spot for Polonius. He’s the good-hearted but doddering father to Hamlet’s vengeful and exacting ghost dad (by comparison, Bill Cosby ought to be ashamed of himself). Polonius bears close resemblance to the kind of paternal figure generally found in a Moss Hart-George Kaufman comedy. He’s happy to offer advice, but he has no idea how little his words are regarded and how much trouble all this causes. For this, his almost ridiculous fate involves being stabbed through the arras in Act III (crying for help, no less), thus setting up the sword fight that leads to a body count rivaling that of a John Woo film.
Polonius is most famous for telling his son, Laertes, “This above all: To thine ownself be true.” And while this is certainly good advice, we see in Act II that what Polonius says doesn’t always match up with how he goes about his business. Polonius, for example, urges Ophelia to have nothing to do with Hamlet, even as she confesses her passions for him in the first scene: And thrice his head thus waving up and down He rais’d a sigh so piteous and profound [II:i, 103-104]
The modifier strings at the end of these two lines, together with the imprecise rhyme of “down” and “profound,” should be a telling clue that Ophelia has become quite intoxicated by Hamlet’s forceful grab of her wrist and that no amount of deconstructing this behavior will solve this dilemma. But instead of granting Ophelia permission to pursue these feelings, Polonius declares that he will consult with the newly installed King about “the very ecstasy of love / Whose violent property fordoes itself.” He even hectors Ophelia about whether or not she’s followed his advice. Ophelia replies that she has “repel[led] his letters and deni’d / His access to me,” the phrase that launched a thousand quips and helped fuel understandable Third Wave conflagrations..
Is this all Polonius’s fault? I don’t think so. Like an overly didactic writer who doesn’t understand how off-putting his prose is, Polonius is blissfully unaware, just trying to help out. But being true to one’s self is actually a pretty sound idea, albeit with problematic consequences. For in Elsinore, propriety and deference prevents these characters from living up to this fine maxim. And if one accepts the “truth” of these characters, such as Hamlet’s tone-deaf instructions to the players on how to perform before the court near the end of Scene ii, one is presented with regrettable, and often embarassing, character inadequacies. As Hamlet is hanging out with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, he offers his famous “What a piece of work is man” speech, but cannot find delight in the praise that he has just uttered. He takes offense when Rosencrantz laughs during the “Man delights not me” portion of this speech, demanding an immediate explanation. Rosencrantz offers him one, pondering the “lenten entertainment” that the forthcoming theatrical players are likely to receive from such an angst -ridden attitude. Actuated by this truth, Hamlet takes it upon himself to
instruct the players in their craft, giving us “The Murder of Gonzago.” But this isn’t so much entertainment, lenten or otherwise, as it is a script Hamlet hopes to follow to carry out his vengeance. Hamlet is that desperate.
Gertrude and Claudius have been true to themselves. And because of this, they are better able to discern the behavior around them. But unlike Polonius, they leave Hamlet to work these feelings out. Queen Gertrude knows very well that her son is vexed by dad’s death and her own shotgun marriage to Claudius, and says as much upon Polonius’s entrance. Polonius insists that he has, as Claudius puts it, “the head and source of all your son’s distemper.”
But the cost of being true involves being somewhat intolerant of others. Gertrude is so unforgiving of Polonius that, as Polonius rambles off his explanation (shortly after promising to be brief), she snaps, “More matter, with less art,” as he is attempting to set down his theory.
If Polonius is something of a crank, he is nevertheless the guy who is best trying to understand Hamlet’s temperament, offering a number of asides to this effect in Act II, Scene ii. Polonius points out that he himself “suff’red much extremity for love” in his youth and that there may be a method to Hamlet’s madness. Unfortunately, he is interested, only because he wishes to prevent further meetings between him and Ophelia.
So nobody’s perfect, as the old Billy Wilder adage goes. And Polonius, like the rest of us, will pay a very terrible price in the next act for his efforts to understand. But at least he isn’t as determined as Hamlet to catch the conscience of the King, which carries deadlier consequences.
Ed picks out Polonius for special emphasis. A good idea – our response to the death of Polonius has a lot to do with where we think the play goes. It’s very sly – if Polonius is just a fool, then his death is diminished, the horror of it is less vivid. Hamlet commits a terrible crime when he kills Polonius, so why doesn’t our sympathy turn against him. I thought I was killing someone else – a poor excuse. Why doesn’t Hamlet turn into Macbeth at this point?
An irony of "To thine own self be true" is that Laertes follows this advice perfectly. So does Polonius – unfortunately his true self involves sending spies after his son and hiding behind curtains. So do most of the characters. Does Hamlet? There, I’m not so sure.
Nigel Beale
Being true to oneself is central to this play, and as you say AR, Ed’s emphasis is good. I don’t think that Polonius is the doddering old fool, however, that many see him as. Sure he rambles on, and gets shut down with that beautiful line by Gertrude, but his advice to his son is stellar, and justly praised for it’s eloquence. I’d suggest he’s more of a clever statesman, playing each audience differently. Again, the tragedy is that, as Ed points out, he doesn’t give the same advice to his daughter as he does his son, when it comes to Hamlet at least. She being the dutiful daughter, is thus not true to herself, and look where it lands her: crazy, and in the drink. Polonius is a boring old busy body, but he’s also a key member of the new King’s ‘cabinet,’ as he was I imagine of Hamlet Sr.’s. Got to have some smarts to stay on the inside like that I’d say.
Is Hamlet true to himself? I think the play is about him trying to figure out exactly what his true self is. He doesn’t blindly obey his father as Ophelia does. Id, ego and superego, to use futuristic terminology, are at war within him. Why doesn’t he turn into MacBeth? I don’t think he ‘truly’ believes he’s done wrong in killing Polonius, as MacBeth does in killing Duncan.
Nigel Beale
Here are some additional quotes that demand attention:
T Hamlet, with his "boublet all unbrac’d looks, when he looked to Ophelia in her closet "As if he had been loosed out of hell"
T Hamlet "bended" the light of his eyes on Ophelia. Ros. and Guil. give up themselves "in the full bent" to Claudius.
B My news shall be the fruit to that great feast (admittance to the ambassadors)
B T Hamlet writes sublimely to Ophelia : "Doubt thou the starts are fire; doutbt the sun doth move; Doubt truth be a liar; But never doubt I love.
B Pol: My honourable lord, I will most humbly take my leave of you Ham: You cannot, sir, take from me anything that I will more willingly part withal; except my life…
B T Hamlet in one of the most beautiful sequences in the English language describes depression: " I have of late, — but wherefore I know not, — lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o’erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why it appears no other thing to me but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form! in moving, how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me what is this quintessence of dust?
B T I am but mad north-northwest: when the wind is southerly I know a hawk from a handsaw.
May 12th, 2008 at 1:06 PM
[...] There are a number of pieces I’ve written that are floating around out there and I will link to them when they are made available. In the meantime, you can check out a podcast interview with David Hajdu, a podcast interview with Sarah Hall (the 70 minute conversation covers all three books and a lengthy article on Hall’s three books is forthcoming), a review of Stephen Greenhouse’s The Big Squeeze, a review of Martin Millar’s Lonely Werewolf Girl, and some hasty thoughts on Act II in Hamlet. [...]