Patio de Escuelas, Universidad de Salamanca, Spain: ceiling - detail (photo (c) Ulrike Boehm; all rights reserved)
... or, the anti-prayer.
Because that's what we're looking at, make no mistake about it. All those apparent professions of guilt, all those expressions of despair ultimately amount to exactly one thing ... the absolute certainty of eternal damnation. And I am not only saying that because Claudius has trouble kneeling down in prayer, or because of his concluding words, "My words fly up, my thoughts remain below. Words without thoughts never to heaven go." Those are merely the strongest outward indicators of Claudius's utter irredeemability; but I suspect the better part of Shakespeare's original audience wouldn't even have had to get to those points to understand who and what they were dealing with: virtually from the start of this sequence, the Bard uses a plethora of instances of symbolism with which I think he could expect his 16th century audience to be more than just a little familiar.
Probably most importantly, according to Catholic doctrine, Claudius's sins – murder, adultery and incest – were one and all irredeemable, mortal sins. Not even the sincerest repentance would have saved him, even less so the half-hearted remorse he actually does show: for equally crucially, the contents of Claudius's "prayer" itself also tells us that we are not looking at a true confession of guilt and a sincere plea for forgiveness. Without wanting to overload on the biblical quotes – and with the caveat that the following discussion is not intended as any exercise in bible study but merely, an analysis of this particular part of the play – let's recall for a moment what Claudius's prayer should have looked like to truly stand a chance at bringing him divine redemption and forgiveness:
In other words, it's all about sincerity. As long as we honestly repent; as long as we truly acknowledge our wrongdoings and ask for forgiveness, we are assured to receive it: "If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness" (1 John 1:9). And herein lies the crux: Claudius simply cannot honestly repent what he has done.
"Then what the hell do you think he's doing here?" his group of supporters from our discussion on his character now reiterate their protest. "Sure sounds to us like he's feeling mighty sorry and burdened. What do you expect – self-flagellation in the fashion of a medieval monk?"
"Oh," I tell them, "I don't think this is about the trappings and the suits of guilt. And I have no doubt that he does regret his act. And that it weighs on him:"
The infernal Serpent; ... Him the Almighty Power
Hurled headlong flaming from the ethereal sky,
With hideous ruin and combustion, down
To bottomless perdition, there to dwell
In adamantine chains and penal fire,
Who durst defy the Omnipotent to arms.
Nine times the space that measures day and night
To mortal men, he, with his horrid crew,
Lay vanquished, rowling in the fiery gulf,
Confounded, though immortal. But his doom
Reserved him to more wrath; for now the thought
Both of lost happiness and lasting pain
Torments him: round he throws his baleful eyes,
That witnessed huge affliction and dismay,
Mixed with obdurate pride and steadfast hate.
At once, as far as Angel's ken, he views
The dismal situation waste and wild.
A dungeon horrible, on all sides round,
As one great furnace flamed; yet from those flames
No light; but rather darkness visible
Served only to discover sights of woe,
Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace
And rest can never dwell, hope never comes
That comes to all, but torture without end
Still urges, and a fiery deluge, fed
With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed.
Such place Eternal Justice had prepared
For those rebellious; here their prison ordained
In utter darkness, and their portion set,
As far removed from God and light of Heaven
As from the centre thrice to the utmost pole.
Oh how unlike the place from whence they fell!
John Milton, Paradise Lost: The First Book
But for all that certainty of doom, does Claudius really, really, honestly repent? Is he sincerely, genuinely asking for forgiveness? Is he truly having a change of heart? No. Far from it, in fact. And even worse, with almost every word he is actually telling us how well aware he is of the certain consequences of his lack of true repentence. And still it doesn't make one iota of difference to his attitude.
O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven;
It hath the primal eldest curse upon't,
A brother's murther!
Indeed: "And he said, What hast thou done? the voice of thy brother's blood crieth unto me from the ground. And now art thou cursed from the earth, which hath opened her mouth to receive thy brother's blood from thy hand." (Genesis 4:10-11.) And still, even in Cain's case, after hearing the sinner's abject professions of guilt, the Lord ultimately ordered that "whosoever slayeth Cain, vengeance shall be taken on him sevenfold" (Genesis 4:15), and permitted him to dwell "in the land of Nod, on the east of Eden" (Genesis 4:16) (albeit not without also planting that ominous mark on his forehead).
Pray can I not,
And that's precisely Claudius's problem. Pray sincerely, that is, at least. But then again ... "You are of your father the devil, and the desires of your father you want to do. He was a murderer from the beginning, and does not stand in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he speaks a lie, he speaks from his own resources, for he is a liar and the father of it." (John 8:44.) Ahem. Yes.
Though inclination be as sharp as will.
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent,
And notwithstanding all the fires of hell itself, notwithstanding torture "for ever and ever," this oh-so strongly professed guilt is but "sorrow of the world," not "godly sorrow," in the words of Paul's letter to the Corinthians quoted above – in other words, it's got nothing whatsoever to do with true repentance, which is precisely why Claudius can't pray in the first place. Still don't believe me? Stick around just a little longer.
And, like a man to double business bound,
I stand in pause where I shall first begin,
And both neglect.
What was the tag line of that Nike commercial from a few years ago? "Just do it." Come on, repeat after me, Claudius: "Our Father ..." (No? Well, then ... [shrug].)
What if this cursed hand
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood,
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
To wash it white as snow?
Certainly not; at least not in your case:
"A man who is tormented by life blood will be a fugitive until death; no one will support him." (Proverbs 28:17.) And along those same lines: "And when ye spread forth your hands, I will hide mine eyes from you: yea, when ye make many prayers, I will not hear: your hands are full of blood. Wash you, make you clean; put away the evil of your doings from before mine eyes; cease to do evil." (Isaiah 1:15-16.)
Whereto serves mercy
But to confront the visage of offence?
And what's in prayer but this twofold force,
To be forestalled ere we come to fall,
Or pardon'd being down? Then I'll look up;
My fault is past.
It's a bit late for the "forestalling" part, I suppose. As for the rest ... I think I've made my point.
But, O, what form of prayer
Can serve my turn? 'Forgive me my foul murther'?
That cannot be; since I am still possess'd
Of those effects for which I did the murther –
My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen.
May one be pardon'd and retain th' offence?
Well, I guess if you were to resort to something like King David did in Psalm 51 (below) ... But short of that: "Ye ask, and receive not, because ye ask amiss, that ye may consume it upon your lusts." (James 4:3.)
In the corrupted currents of this world
Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice,
And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself
Buys out the law; but 'tis not so above.
There is no shuffling; there the action lies
In his true nature, and we ourselves compell'd,
Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults,
To give in evidence.
Oh come on now, Claudius. Are you seriously trying to tell us you have even a marginal understanding of earthly justice, never mind heavenly? You, the master schemer? The slick conjurer? The Deceiver (2 John 1:7 and Revelation 12:9)? "Evil men don't understand justice; but those who seek Yahweh understand it fully." (Proverbs 28:5.) That sounds more like it to me, quite frankly. And for that very reason, "[h]e who turns away his ear from hearing the law, even his prayer is an abomination." (Proverbs 28:9) Err, well.
What then? What rests?
Try what repentance can. What can it not?
Yet what can it when one cannot repent?
[Aside:] Well, I really hate to rub it in, guys, but ... I told you so!!!
O wretched state! O bosom black as death!
O limed soul, that, struggling to be free,
Art more engag'd! Help, angels! Make assay.
"Bosom black as death" indeed – and incidentally, I'd really like to know why Zeffirelli essentially cut Claudius's entire soliloquy between the opening lines and this very point (not to mention the concluding "My words fly up ...") For conciseness's sake only? Pity, that ... ye Gods, how can you not want to use more of this stuff?
Bow, stubborn knees;
and heart with strings of steel,
Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!
All may be well.
Yes, well, not to put too fine a point on it, Claudius – I'm really not so sure at all about that. Now, if your prayer had sounded anything like this:
Psalm 51: David's confession of, and repentance over the murder of Uriah, whose wife Bathsheba he desired for himself.
Of course David still didn't get away scott-free: the first child he had with Bathsheba died. But he himself was spared; and their next child was Solomon ... "and the Lord loved him." (2 Samuel 12:24.) Old-testamentary justice and all that aside, all things considered, that still strikes me as a whole lot better than your own death and the annihilation of your entire royal family, the fate that Claudius will eventually come to bring on himself ...
My words fly up, my thoughts remain below.
Words without thoughts never to heaven go.
Well, I guess that settles it then. But now let's finally have some honesty here, shall we? The following actually sounds decidedly more like your true self to me, Claudius:
"Fallen Cherub, to be weak is miserable,
Doing or suffering: but of this be sure –
To do aught good never will be our task,
But ever to do ill our sole delight,
As being the contrary to His high will
Whom we resist. If then His providence
Out of our evil seek to bring forth good,
Our labour must be to pervert that end,
And out of good still to find means of evil;
Which ofttimes may succeed so as perhaps
Shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb
His inmost counsels from their destined aim.
But see! the angry Victor hath recalled
His ministers of vengeance and pursuit
Back to the gates of Heaven: the sulphurous hail,
Shot after us in storm, o’erblown hath laid
The fiery surge that from the precipice
Of Heaven received us falling; and the thunder,
Winged with red lightning and impetuous rage,
Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now
To bellow through the vast and boundless Deep.
Let us not slip the occasion, whether scorn
Or satiate fury yield it from our Foe.
Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild,
The seat of desolation, void of light,
Save what the glimmering of these livid flames
Casts pale and dreadful? Thither let us tend
From off the tossing of these fiery waves;
There rest, if any rest can harbour there;
And, re-assembling our afflicted powers,
Consult how we may henceforth most offend
Our Enemy, our own loss how repair,
How overcome this dire calamity,
What reinforcement we may gain from hope,
If not what resolution from despair."
John Milton, Paradise Lost: The First Book
Me miserable! which way shall I fly
Infinite wrath, and infinite despair?
Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell;
And in the lowest deep a lower deep
Still threatning to devour me opens wide,
To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav'n.
O then at last relent: is there no place
Left for Repentance, none for Pardon left?
None left but by submission; and that word
Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame
Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduc'd
With other promises and other vaunts
Then to submit, boasting I could subdue
Th' Omnipotent. Ay me, they little know
How dearly I abide that boast so vain,
Under what torments inwardly I groan;
While they adore me on the Throne of Hell,
With Diadem and Scepter high advanc'd
The lower still I fall, onely Supream
In misery; such joy Ambition finds.
But say I could repent and could obtain
By Act of Grace my former state; how soon
Would highth recal high thoughts, how soon unsay
What feign'd submission swore: ease would recant
Vows made in pain, as violent and void.
For never can true reconcilement grow
Where wounds of deadly hate have pierc'd so deep:
Which would but lead me to a worse relapse
And heavier fall: so should I purchase dear
Short intermission bought with double smart.
This knows my punisher; therefore as far
From granting he, as I from begging peace:
All hope excluded thus, behold instead
Of us out-cast, exil'd, his new delight,
Mankind created, and for him this World.
So farewell Hope, and with Hope farewell Fear,
Farrwell Remorse: all Good to me is lost;
Evil be thou my Good; by thee at least
Divided Empire with Heav'ns King I hold
By thee, and more then half perhaps will reign;
As Man ere long, and this new World shall know.
John Milton, Paradise Lost: The Fourth Book
[Note: I'm tempted to tag on a little numbers game here, for were it not that any and all structural elements of the play beyond Act II, Scene 2, as rendered in the 1623 "First Folio", are based on scholarly research and not on any text actually dating from Shakespeare's lifetime – the quartos, after all, weren't divided into scenes at all – it would look almost too good to be true that this particular soliloquy should be placed in Act III, Scene 3, and that in fact, that same scene should consist of almost nothing but this very soliloquy (and Hamlet's response, which is addressed separately). Assuming, that all the scholars whose work has given us the dramatic structure we've now come to take for granted have not been mistaken, there just might be a point to be made, then, by the structural placement of this scene beyond the fact that it is, obviously, Claudius's reaction to the "play within the play:" For three is not only the number of the Holy Trinity of God Father, Son and Holy Spirit – as we have already been reminded by Lucianus's "speech" in the last phase of the "play within the play," mythologically it is also the number associated with Hecate, the three-headed mother goddess of all witches, as well as the three pagan gods sometimes seen as incarnations of the Devil; Pan, Set, and Saturn (hear that phonetical similarity to "Satan"?), and with Hades (Pluto), the god of death. So, too, Christianity knows an unholy trinity; namely, that mentioned in the Book of Revelation: the Dragon (Satan, the Devil) and the two beasts "brought forth" by him, the Antichrist and the false prophet (Revelation 13), all three of whom are eventually "cast into the lake of fire and brimstone" and "tormented day and night for ever and ever" (Revelation 20:10). Worse yet, in this present context we're even looking at two times the number three (Act III and Scene 3), hence also at the number six which, in turn, in its visual triplicate (666) is "the number of the beast" itself (Revelation 13:18). To this day, there are Satanistic cults which use this symbolism in order to invert the old-testamentary "I Am that I Am" (Exodus 3:14) into a triple affirmation of the human self ("Me, Myself, and I"), represented by Satan's pitchfork and that very same number 666; not to mention all those more popular forms of superstition, like the belief that unlucky events always come in threes, etc. – Yet, however suggestive this notion might look to the untrained eye, it should be viewed with extreme scepticism: there is, to my knowledge, no sound scholarly basis whatever for this theory and, anyway, if on no other grounds, it must certainly be discounted because the one immediate 17th century textual source available, the 1623 "First Folio", (if only due to a printer's error) contains no clues beyond Act 2, Scene 2, as to the structure of the play envisioned by Shakespeare himself.
Copyright 2002 – 2009: Ulrike Böhm, all rights reserved.
