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Thoth Tarot (Aleister Crowley and Frieda Harris):
The Ace of Cups – The Holy Grail – Water
(image used by permission of the Ordo Templis Orientis, Secretary General/ International Headquarters,
Berlin, Germany)

Horatio – The Loyal Friend and Chronicler –
Colin Firth

[NOTE: If you haven't already read the disclaimer on this section's introductory page with regard to any and all actor names mentioned in this section of the website, please do so before proceeding here.]

Blank stares from the audience. "Err, I think this thing is called 'Hamlet'," a guy in his mid-twenties mutters. "With all due respect, shouldn't we start with him?"

He is wearing a black T-shirt and baggy jeans and has been leaning in a side entrance, never even taking a seat. Now he turns to go.

"Yeah, really," his companion (also in his mid-twenties, also in baggy jeans and T-shirt) agrees with a snort. "Besides, Colin Firth as Horatio? Oh man, you let a woman touch this stuff and all she does is turn it into a chick flick ..."

"Uh-uh," the first guy rejoins. "You know what I think? I think she's saying Hamlet and Horatio are doing it ... they're making out. That's the reason she's casting Mr. Firth – he still gets to romance somebody, only this time it's the Prince of Denmark."

I turn and look at them. "There is no such stuff in my thoughts," I assure them. "If anything, it's a case of casting against stereotype, while still fully exploiting Mr. Firth's particular strengths."

They measure me distrustfully. I extend a hand and point to a pair of free seats in their vicinity. "Stay awhile. I will be faithful."

Exchanging another glance, they reluctantly find seats not far from the entrance where they have been leaning. I continue, now speaking to all of my audience again.

So who is Horatio? Let's take a look at him.

We actually do meet Horatio before Hamlet; in that opening scene where the Ghost of Hamlet's father shows himself for the first time and which lays the all-important groundwork for our understanding of Hamlet's World as being one profoundly turned upside down; or in Hamlet's own later words, "out of joint." In that scene, we not only see Horatio acting as a narrator – namely, when he tells Marcellus and Bernardo about the thirty-year-old quarrel that has brought about the current threat of invasion from Norway – we also learn that Horatio is a scholar; a rational man not given to superstition, which is why it is all the more frightening that he, too, at last has to concede that he can see the Ghost. When, the very next day, Horatio and the Sentinels go to impart their dreadful news to Hamlet, the Prince greets him – very pointedly – as his "good friend" and "fellow student."

"Yeah, exactly." Another scoff from my two impatient friends near the side entrance, who are almost on their way out again already. "No offence, and even leaving all other things aside ... but Mr. Firth is how many years out of a student's age now?"

I might remind them that Sir Laurence Olivier's Horatio, Norman Wooland, wasn't exactly student age, either (nor was the Horatio of Grigori Kosintzev's movie, for that matter); but for the moment I merely make another acquiescing gesture in their direction. "Season your admiration for a while with an attent ear. I'll get to that," I promise and, having watched them sit down once more, continue my discussion.

We also learn in the first scene that, quite critically, Horatio was not present in Elsinore at the time of the murder of Hamlet's father; thus, he is untainted by any potential moral or other symbolic spill-out effect stemming from that deed – and in fact, although he stays behind at court even after Claudius sends Hamlet to England (and supposedly to his death), he is the only person who remains unaffected by Claudius's unholy machinations throughout the play.

Yet, despite their obvious mutual sympathy and Horatio's attitude of loyalty towards Hamlet (and although we later also learn from Hamlet himself that "since [his] dear soul was mistress of her choice and could of men distinguish, her election hath seal'd [Horatio] for herself"), there is a progressive upbuilding of trust between them. Not only don't they arrive in Elsinore together – in fact, Hamlet initially doesn't even know that Horatio has come from Wittenberg as well – even after his encounter with his father's Ghost, and despite the profound torment into which that encounter has thrown him, Hamlet still shies away from taking Horatio into his confidence at that time. Now, of course this could be due to the presence of Marcellus, the Sentinel, in whom Hamlet likely wouldn't have confided anyway; even if he trusts him enough to be in his and Horatio's company at the beginning of the Ghost's appearance. But I think Shakespeare would have let us know if that were the only reason for Hamlet's initial reluctance. For when do we learn – and almost en passant – that Hamlet has confided in Horatio after all? Not before the all-important mid-play build-up of tension in that play designed to "catch the conscience of the King." In other words, a full three months after the Ghost's first appearance. Now, we are obviously to assume that Horatio has stayed in Elsinore during the better part of these three months; and indeed, at this later point Hamlet's demeanor towards him is substantially changed. He has told Horatio about the true circumstances of his father's death. He lets him in on his secret intentions regarding the play. And most of all, he quite passionately and openly expresses his feelings of affection towards him, which I am not at all sure he would already have done at the beginning. So over the course of those three months, there obviously has been a certain development in their relationship.

But are we, from the choice of Hamlet's words, to assume the growth of a gay relationship? Personally I don't think so. I actually couldn't care less if my imaginations are all foul here – a person's sexual orientation is the breathing time of day with me, and if it should turn out that any such implication was Shakespeare's intention, so be it. But here again, I think, we need to look at the way Shakespeare's own audience would have heard Hamlet's passionate vows of friendship, before that all-important "play within the play" as well as at the tragedy's very end, where Horatio also expresses similar things. And what we, today (doubtlessly in no small part due to the Victorian age's heritage) have largely forgotten is that in Shakespeare's times closeness between members of the same sex was much more common than these days, to the point that men (and women, too, in their own world) shared beds on military campaigns as well as during other journeys, at universities, and often even at their own homes; more often than not having a bed of your own was a thing of luxury. So, too, emotional closeness was not the taboo it is in many ways today.

And bearing that in mind, now let's look at what exactly Hamlet finds so admirable in Horatio. First, there is a complete absence of flattery between them; not only do we never see Horatio express any such thing towards Hamlet, the Prince himself, at the beginning of his words to Horatio before the "play within the play," expressly makes sure that we (and his friend) understand that flattery is not his intent. Thus, the first thing we see being expressed is sincerity (and, indeed, simplicity; to the point that Hamlet raises Horatio's modest birth itself to the level of a virtue). Next, Hamlet praises Horatio for having "been as one, in suff'ring all, that suffers nothing; a man that Fortune's buffets and rewards [has] ta'en with equal thanks." And just for emphasis, he continues that in his view, "blest are those whose blood and judgment are so well commingled that they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger to sound what stop she please." And whom will Hamlet therefore, as he says he does Horatio, wear "in [his] heart's core, ay, in [his] heart of heart"? Why, none other than "that man that is not passion's slave." In other words, what Hamlet finds so praiseworthy in Horatio is his sound judgement and equanimity; his very rationality. (This, by the way, from a guy who himself is subject to the most violent fits of passion – at least the way I read the role.) Now, call me naïve or tell me I'm missing something, but 16th century language aside, isn't that something friends – at least close friends – might have told each other at any time and in any place of the world?

So: loyal and trusted friend; that's one of Horatio's roles.

More than that, however, he is also the tragedy's chronicler; not only present from the first scene to the last but even expressly assuming a narrator's role in the very first scene already, when he instructs the Sentinels on the brewing conflict between Denmark and Norway, and finally again in the last scene, where he is charged by a dying Hamlet "in this harsh world [to] draw [his] breath in pain, to tell [Hamlet's] story." Symbolically speaking – at least in my version of Hamlet's World, which as you may recall is quite simply a place of inhumanity and despotism – that makes him a representative of all those called on to report on a reign or a scene of terror: a witness testifying on the horrors of a concentration camp he has survived; a war reporter unwittingly finding himself present during an attack that turns into a massacre; a historian delving into his country's past and uncovering truths nobody has so far wanted to hear. And, oh yes, a playwright, too. Because for all the symbolic importance of the Players appearing in this tragedy; for all of Hamlet's own love of the theatre, for all his admonitions to the Players to "suit the action to the word, the word to the action" and not to "o'erstep the modesty of nature" (in other words, to avoid any kind of stilted or unnatural performance; an admonition doubtlessly coming from the bottom of the Bard's very own heart), it is ultimately the playwright himself who tells Hamlet's story to the outside world.

Now, I obviously don't imagine my Horatio walking around with the medieval equivalent of a scrap book and taking notes all the time: for all his scholarship, the role of chronicler of his friend's fate is the last thing he envisions; in fact, we know that even upon the dying Hamlet's charge he embraces that task only with the greatest reluctance. But this is precisely what makes him such a powerful witness.

Maybe – hopefully – this also goes some way to explain why leading man qualities are indeed in demand in my take on Horatio; even if not those traditionally associated with a romantic lead. For although Hamlet is the play's central character, Horatio is its anchor and bridge to all of us standing outside the action and looking in: Structurally, not only each of the tragedy's characters but also the play itself consists of several layers (or levels), the outermost consisting of the playwright – Shakespeare himself – and his audience, followed by the play's primary characters on the main level; the Prince, his Father's Ghost, Claudius, Gertrude, Polonius, Ophelia and Laertes, as well as (of lesser importance but still on that same level) Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, Osric, the two Gravediggers (or Clowns), and the three Sentinels we meet at the beginning; and in the innermost circle, finally, the Players appearing in the "play within the play" and their monologues, which in turn mirror the main play's core events. But Horatio's character provides the crucial link between the tragedy's central level – that of Hamlet himself – and the level of the playwright and his audience: he is both a participant in the action and our narrator; it is through him that we are taken into the play and, by Hamlet's express charge, acquainted with the Prince's fate. And the simple fact is that even the most powerful story loses its impact if it is told by a weak voice. Therefore, as befitting this particular tragedy's importance, I want my Horatio to have as strong and emphatic a voice as possible. The kind of voice only a dyed-in-the-wool leading man can provide.

Then why Mr. Firth, of all people, you still wonder? Truthfully, because of a single moment. If you know Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice," you'll know that the story's dramatic conclusion is initiated by a letter from Jane to Elizabeth Bennet, telling her about their youngest sister Lydia's elopement with Mr. Darcy's old antagonist Wickham, of whose true character we have already heard quite a lot at this point, although we have not yet seen it played out to its full extent. Now, Mr. Darcy happens on Lizzie immediately after she has read Jane's letter; and distraught as she is, she pours out her heart to him. At that moment, in the BBC/A & E adaptation of "Pride and Prejudice" that made the better part of the female world (and yes, myself included) forever identify Colin Firth with Mr. Darcy's character, he gives "his" Lizzie (Jennifer Ehle) a look that expresses not only shock and anger over what he has learned but also, and critically, that as of now, Lizzie has in him much more than an admirer; much more than a suitor for her hand in marriage. In this one particular moment, Elizabeth Bennet has found in him the best friend that anyone, man or woman, could ever have: fiercely loyal, and resolved – at whatever the cost – to stand by her side. Such is the loyalty that, I think, Horatio also feels towards Hamlet; and such is the empathy and compassion in our narrator's voice. And in the entire recent cinematic history, I cannot think of a single moment that would express this kind of loyalty and compassion in a more poignant fashion. (Just as an aside, the other reason why that particular scene works so well in the "Pride and Prejudice" adaptation starring Mr. Firth and Ms. Ehle is Jennifer Ehle's own wonderful performance, which makes it perfectly credible that she alone, because of her grief and distraction, would not have perceived what is so obvious to all the rest of us. No small feat indeed.)

"Well, what about the 'student' business, though?" my two friends from the beginning insist. They have kept their peace until now, but now they're beginning to get restless again.

Granted, if we read "student" the way we think of a student today, then you've probably got me. Only, I'm not sure that we necessarily must. First of all, universities in Shakespeare's time were still a fairly new institution, and not at all organised the way they are these days, with more or less fixed curricula according to which you progress from term to term and from year to year. In the less formalised setting in which we thus have to imagine Hamlet and Horatio, and particularly considering that they are both foreigners in Wittenberg; further remembering that Hamlet (as he eventually tells his friend) has long respected Horatio for his personal qualities anyway, I do think it is quite probable that the Prince would have sought and found the friendship not only of people of his own age but also of someone who over time turns into a kind of older brother and spiritual mentor – which, social station aside, Horatio ultimately becomes to him in my view – and whose own scholarship, by the time the play begins, might well have progressed from a student's to that of a lecturer.

Compare, for example, Hamlet's and Horatio's exchanges with those between Hamlet and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern; likewise, as we learn, "schoolfellows" of the Prince (who are incidentally – I suspect – "sent for" after Horatio has shown his own loyalty towards the Prince by successfully averting Claudius's and Gertrude's attempts to sound him about Hamlet's cause of distemper). In Hamlet's initial welcome of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, there is a distinct note of bawdiness (all that stuff about living "in the secret parts of Fortune"); at least, until Hamlet sniffs out that there is something more to their visit. Now, Horatio, too, is certainly no stranger to that kind of talk; for example, I imagine him displaying a fair amount of amusement during the better part of the Osric scene, particularly when Hamlet asks Osric about Laertes's weapon and, upon receiving the reply "Rapier and dagger," comments, "That's two of his weapons – but well." Indeed, during that scene there are several instances where Horatio even joins Hamlet in making fun of somebody (even if class distinctions should, I think, forbid him to address Osric directly in that way), which is a rare enough thing for him otherwise. But by and large, there is no baseness and no bawdiness between Hamlet and Horatio; even before Hamlet opens up to him entirely, their relationship is primarily characterised by mutual respect – and it seems to me, a respect of the kind that Hamlet would more likely have developed for a man of so much lower station than himself if that man were a few years his senior. Significantly, too, after Hamlet's return to Denmark, only Horatio manages to hold him back in his confrontation with Laertes over Ophelia's grave (similarly, one cannot but wonder if Rosencrantz and Guildenstern would ever have "go[ne] to't" if Horatio had been around when Hamlet discovered Claudius's letters to the English King); and later he not only warns Hamlet that Claudius must soon learn how the Prince has averted his murderous plot (and will thus be put on his guard); he also – albeit unsuccessfully – attempts to warn Hamlet off the duel with Laertes. This kind of behaviour, while carried out with the utmost respect for the Prince's station, has "counsellor," "mentor," and "older brother" written all over it, and I sincerely doubt Hamlet would have taken that attitude from a man of at most his own age. (And since he obviously has concluded that Polonius isn't someone he can trust, who else would he turn to but a loyal and slightly more senior friend?)

So, too, Horatio's growing into a counsellor's role is borne out in his demeanor towards and relationship with the play's other characters, particularly after Hamlet's departure for England. For even if he can't know that Hamlet is not meant to return from England if Claudius has his way, at this particular point Horatio would have had to either return to Wittenberg or abandon his life and duties there entirely. And there is really no reason for him to "stick around" in Elsinore – unless he has been asked to stay, and the only person who can conceivably have done so is Gertrude, who after Hamlet has driven home to her what kind of a man Claudius really is, and what she has done by marrying him, might well have been in need of somebody to stand by her side in her son's stead (again, particularly considering that Polonius is now dead, too). Indeed, when we return to Elsinore a few weeks or months after Hamlet's departure – as outlined in the Timeline, I set that time frame at one or two months later – we see that Horatio has begun to assume a sort of counsellor position to Gertrude, for example advising her how to handle Ophelia; as well as a stewartship over Ophelia, in which he not only (sort of) replaces her dead father but is even encouraged by Claudius, who probably isn't all too happy with Horatio's continued presence otherwise and merely tolerates it for Gertrude's sake. And although I would hesitate to rely solely on the First Quarto in any matter of interpretation, I do find it interesting that its draftsman, whoever he was, condensed the exchange between Horatio and Gertrude about Ophelia at the beginning of Act IV, Scene 5 ("I will not speak with her" ... "'Twere good she were spoken with; for she may strew dangerous conjectures in ill-breeding minds"), together with the contents of the letter Horatio receives from Hamlet in the following scene (Act IV, Scene 6) and Hamlet's account to Horatio about his aborted voyage to England ("So much for this, sir; now shall you see the other. You do remember all the circumstance?") to the following exchange between Horatio and Gertrude which, as is characteristic for the First Quarto, also contains several lines borrowed from yet other scenes of the play (gently modernised spelling mine):

In other words, disregarding the fact that Hamlet has written to his mother in person, and also leaving aside the question whether Claudius, after having received that letter in her stead, ever passes it on to her (unread!), it not only falls to Horatio to reassure Gertrude of Hamlet's safe return to Denmark; the Queen in fact responds by immediately sharing her innermost feelings with Horatio and by showing herself willing to accede to any plot he and Hamlet might be hatching vis-à-vis Claudius. Blatant digression from the play's actual construction though this is, it nevertheless speaks volumes as to the draftsman's understanding of Gertrude's, Horatio's and Hamlet's respective characters and relationship.

Lastly, and perhaps most importantly – returning to the play's authentic text – even Fortinbras, when he happens onto the scene of recent carnage at the end of the final act, and although he so far has never even set eyes on Horatio and, by this time, has begun to collect leadership credentials of his own, agrees to hear Horatio's story and instantly accepts his counsel how further to proceed in the matter so recently and violently concluded at the Danish court. Again, I find it hard to imagine that the man next in line with a claim to Denmark's throne (as Fortinbras is) would take this from a guy of, at most, Hamlet's and his own age, particularly if that guy quite obviously wasn't even of noble blood.

Now, of course I realise that there is probably no chance in hell Mr. Firth would ever even contemplate this kind of role; at least, no longer at this stage of his career (and particularly not after hearing that even in Horatio's case, for all my talk about the "strong narrator" and "Shakespeare alias" identity, I wouldn't add a single line of spoken dialogue). In fact, despite movie credits like the excellent but publicity-wise low key "Conspiracy" – Sir Kenneth Branagh's take on the Nazi regime's "final solution," where Mr. Firth starred alongside Branagh (Reinhard Heydrich) and Stanley Tucci (Adolf Eichmann) as one of the key participants of the Wannsee Conference – in light of the overwhelming appeal of his romantic leading man persona, he himself as well as his agent and every casting director under the sun would probably declare me stark raving mad for ever even thinking of him as Horatio. But that's the assumption under which we're working here anyway, isn't it? So: Horatio – Hamlet's faithful friend and chronicler – Colin Firth ...

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Copyright 2002 – 2009: Ulrike Böhm, all rights reserved.