Charles and Mary Lamb, Tales from Shakespeare (1901) – Claudius conspires with Laertes to murder Hamlet
Act IV, Scene 7 (Claudius and Laertes).
Claudius's 14-step master plan for turning an enemy into an instrument of your own dark devices; or, a lesson in infamy. No prologue needed – we know our man Claudius by now. So let's jump right into the heart of the matter:
Step 1 (so immaterial in its exact course that Shakespeare chooses not even to show it, and to merely tell us about it in a few of the principals' comments instead): You let your adversary have a hearing on his cause, and you even let him select the composition of that counsel from among the people he trusts most. Since they only got their story from you in the first place, there is virtually no risk that your rival will hear anything that you don't want him to hear. But he doesn't realise that, of course, and so he will suddenly feel mighty insecure about the righteousness of his cause ... in fact, doubly so given that you are his souvereign, and in the past he had never even dreamt of challenging your position. Let him wallow in that feeling for a while, then move on to ...
Now must your conscience my acquittance seal,
And you must put me in your heart for friend,
Sith you have heard, and with a knowing ear,
That he which hath your noble father slain
Pursued my life.
It well appears.
Step 2 (and this is essential): Have him expressly commit to your side of the story.
But tell me
Why you proceeded not against these feats
So crimeful and so capital in nature,
As by your safety, wisdom, all things else,
You mainly were stirr'd up.
O, for two special reasons,
Which may to you, perhaps, seem much unsinew'd,
But yet to me they are strong.
Step 3: Always, always be prepared to deal with lingering doubts about issues that might not have fully been addressed at the hearing. And remember that the last thing you want is to appear over-confident. Understatement is the key to it all ...
The Queen his mother
Lives almost by his looks; and for myself, –
My virtue or my plague, be it either which, –
She's so conjunctive to my life and soul
That, as the star moves not but in his sphere,
I could not but by her.
A sure winner: "It's all in the family." Seriously, can you think of anyone who wouldn't buy into that kind of argument – who wouldn't be inclined to use clemency rather than justice towards a dearly beloved [aside: ha-ha] stepson? Particularly if anything but the greatest leniency would hurt his mother, the woman you des ... err, love more than life itself, and whose affections you might lose if you punish her son too harshly?
The other motive
Why to a public count I might not go
Is the great love the general gender bear him,
Who, dipping all his faults in their affection,
Would, like the spring that turneth wood to stone,
Convert his gives to graces; so that my arrows,
Too slightly timber'd for so loud a wind,
Would have reverted to my bow again,
And not where I had aim'd them.
And here's a nice one if we're talking political mutiny on the part of your opponent: bring up a sovereign's responsibility to maintain public peace. The guy has been swept into your palace on a wave of public support, right? Well, this is a great moment to remind him that vox populi doesn't always get it right. Only a wise ruler knows what's best for the country ... and a wise ruler will always be guided by his own insights exclusively, not by popular will. Watch your little upstart adversary chew on that and all his associated guilt and remorse, then be ready to proceed to ...
And so have I a noble father lost;
A sister driven into desp'rate terms,
Whose worth, if praises may go back again,
Stood challenger on mount of all the age
For her perfections. But my revenge will come.
Break not your sleeps for that. You must not think
That we are made of stuff so flat and dull
That we can let our beard be shook with danger,
And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear more.
I lov'd your father, and we love ourself,
And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine –
Step 4: Let him know that you share his feelings and find his desire for revenge entirely justified – and by the way, this might also be a good time to slip in that royal "we" every so often, just to remind him that he isn't simply armwrestling his next door neighbour. (Between the two of us, though, you can really colour yourself lucky in your choice of opponents, Claudius: One just can't seem to overcome his scruples even though he recognises you for the thing you are; and the other one, while unwavering in his desire for revenge even after you have successfully removed yourself from the line of fire, is easily diverted to another and from your point of view of course much more convenient target. Because, you know, there's also this guy named Othello; now, if you were up against him ... well, not to put too fine a point on it, you'd never even have gotten to Step 1 of your plan with him. He'd just have stormed your castle and been done with it – and with you. And that would have been the end. But I digress ...)
How now? What news?
Letters, my lord, from Hamlet:
This to your Majesty; this to the Queen.
From Hamlet? Who brought them?
Sailors, my lord, they say; I saw them not.
They were given me by Claudio; he receiv'd them
*//* Of him that brought them. *//*
Laertes, you shall hear them.
Leave us.
'High and Mighty, – You shall know I am set naked on your
kingdom. To-morrow shall I beg leave to see your kingly eyes;
when I shall (first asking your pardon thereunto) recount the
occasion of my sudden and more strange return. 'HAMLET.'
What should this mean? Are all the rest come back?
Or is it some abuse, and no such thing?
Know you the hand?
'Tis Hamlet's character. 'Naked!'
And in a postscript here, he says 'alone.'
Can you advise me?
I am lost in it, my lord. But let him come!
It warms the very sickness in my heart
That I shall live and tell him to his teeth,
'Thus didest thou.'
If it be so, Laertes
(As how should it be so? how otherwise?),
Will you be rul'd by me?
*//* Ay my lord, *//*
So you will not o'errule me to a peace.
Step 5 (optional): Be prepared to quickly turn unexpected events to your advantage. If favourable documentary evidence falls into your hands, by all means use it! Just make sure you're not caught doing something unsavoury in securing that evidence, so you better curb that curiosity concerning a son's letter to his mother for the moment ... there'll be plenty of time to take a look at it later. (Aside: Sir Laurence Olivier, who – alas – splits this scene up in several parts, with the actual conspiracy only taking place after the graveyard scene and the arrival of the letters immediately preceding Horatio's receipt of his own letter from Hamlet, has Gertrude receive her own letter in person from the messenger's – Osric's – hands: I think this wastes dramatic opportunities both with regard to the sequencing of the conspiracy itself and with regard to the lengths to which Claudius's infamy will go. For can we really assume he'll pass a letter from Hamlet to Gertrude on to the Queen without having read it himself first, while she wasn't looking? I think not! But I digress again ...)
In any event, be sure to ask for your, uh, I guess we can now call him "former" opponent's, advice. Consultation easily segues into conspiracy, once communality of purpose has been established ...
To thine own peace. If he be now return'd
As checking at his voyage, and that he means
No more to undertake it, I will work him
To exploit now ripe in my device,
Under the which he shall not choose but fall;
And for his death no wind shall breathe
But even his mother shall uncharge the practice
And call it accident.
Step 6: Softly on that all-important segue into the actual conspiracy phase, though. Before addressing the details of your scheme, reassure your partner-in-crime-in-the-making that your plan will not only serve your and his purposes, it is also so well-crafted that no one – no one – will ever think the worse of either of you.
My lord, I will be rul'd;
The rather, if you could devise it so
That I might be the organ.
It falls right.
Aaaarrgghh! Watch your tongue, man! This isn't the moment for triumph just yet. I mean, I can see how pleased you are that he isn't just making that 180-degree spin you always wanted him to make but that he is even volunteering for the part of your primary tool (that is, at least he's doing so in the Second Quarto). But you know you still have a long way to go with him!
You have been talk'd of since your travel much,
And that in Hamlet's hearing, for a quality
Wherein they say you shine, Your sum of parts
Did not together pluck such envy from him
As did that one; and that, in my regard,
Of the unworthiest siege.
That's more like it – flatter him. You're good at that, you know you are; you even understand how to make a reference to an "unworthy" thing sound like flattery. And that falls right indeed, because now we're (substantially) returning to the First Folio version and coming to ...
What part is that, my lord?
A very riband in the cap of youth –
Yet needfull too; for youth no less becomes
The light and careless livery that it wears
Than settled age his sables and his weeds,
Importing health and graveness. *//* Two months since
Here was a gentleman of Normandy.
I have seen myself, and serv'd against, the French,
And they can well on horseback; but this gallant
Had witchcraft in't. He grew unto his seat,
And to such wondrous doing brought his horse
As had he been incorps'd and demi-natur'd
With the brave beast. So far he topp'd my thought
That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks,
Come short of what he did.
A Norman was't?
A Norman.
Upon my life, Lamound.
The very same.
I know him well. He is the broach indeed
And gem of all the nation.
He made confession of you;
And gave you such a masterly report
For art and exercise in your defence,
And for your rapier most especially,
That he cried out 'twould be a sight indeed
If one could match you. *//* Th' escrimers of their nation
He swore had neither motion, guard, nor eye,
If you oppos'd them. *//* Sir, this report of his
Did Hamlet so envenom with his envy
That he could nothing do but wish and beg
Your sudden coming o'er to play with you.
Step 7: Laying the groundwork for your scheme. Describe the one strength your human instrument possesses that you most intend to rely on; and describe that strength in as glowing colours as possible, to bolster his confidence in his ability to pull this thing off. Make him proud of himself; make him look forward to exhibiting his skills! Cite witnesses if any are on hand – and if your co-conspirator knows them, all the better. Exploit his own good opinion of those witnesses, and also let him know how impressed even the target of your plot was with their report. Wait for the right moment, and then ...
Now, out of this –
Step 8: Suddenly and unexpectedly hit the breaks. And I mean, come to a complete and total stop, as in tyres sreaming, safety belts locking, airbags unfolding. (Oops, sorry. Wrong imagery. Horseshoes skidding, gravel flying ... – Anyway ...) All fired up as he is, he should now be in the perfect frame of mind for ...
What out of this, my lord?
Laertes, was your father dear to you?
Or are you like the painting of a sorrow,
A face without a heart?
Step 9: Your first serving of bait – a pointed and, on the face of it, quite unnecessary and even insulting appeal to his own feelings; the very feelings that have prompted his oh-so strong desire for revenge in the first place. (I sure gotta hand it to you here, though, Claudius. "The painting of a sorrow, a face without a heart" ... coming from you, that's a good one indeed.)
Why ask you this?
And when you've gotten the expected reaction out of him, quickly follow up with ...
Not that I think you did not love your father;
But that I know love is begun by time,
And that I see, in passages of proof,
Time qualifies the spark and fire of it.
Step 10: Your second serving of bait, even more potent than the first one (as I'm sure your nephew Hamlet would be able to confirm): Taunt him. Tell him that you think he might not follow through; that emotions in the heat of the moment are one thing, but swift, cool, calculated action in conjuction with those emotions is another thing altogether. Tell him that you don't want to be let down by someone unable of a fast and firm follow-through.
*//* There lives within the very flame of love
A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it;
And nothing is at a like goodness still;
For goodness, growing to a plurisy,
Dies in his own too-much. That we would do,
We should do when we would; for this 'would' changes,
And hath abatements and delays as many
As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents;
And then this 'should' is like a spendthrift sigh,
That hurts by easing. But to the quick o' th' ulcer! *//*
Hamlet comes back. What would you undertake
To show yourself your father's son in deed
More than in words?
Step 11: Regardless whether you rub it in good and proper (Second Quarto version) or just cut to the quick (First Folio version): once you've got him just burning to jump into action – any action, that is, no matter the consequence – let him be the one who verbalises the idea. We don't want you accused of having put any unholy thoughts into his mind, now, do we?
To cut his throat i' th' church!
No place indeed should murther sanctuarize;
Revenge should have no bounds.
Ouch ... careful on that smugness, I say! Look at it, you've got half the audience "ooohhhing" and "aaahhhing" and whispering and turning to each other. How long do you think until he catches on to what you're doing, huh? Remember, he may be all incensed and not thinking all too clearly now, but this is not your average young hothead – this guy has grown up at court; he's your former chief Counsellor's son, the son of a politician and master schemer not so unlike yourself. Do you really think you can let yourself go this recklessly in front of him forever?
But, good Laertes,
Will you do this? Keep close within your chamber.
Hamlet return'd shall know you are come home.
We'll put on those shall praise your excellence
And set a double varnish on the fame
The Frenchman gave you; bring you in fine together
And wager on your heads. He, being remiss,
Most generous, and free from all contriving,
Will not peruse the foils; so that with ease,
Or with a little shuffling, you may choose
A sword unbated, and, in a pass of practice,
Requite him for your father.
Step 12 (and I'm glad to see we're back on track): Time to lay out the details of your plan – after all, compared to what he has just proposed to do, this is small fry indeed. And once you've got him committed to this much ...
I will do't!
And for that purpose I'll anoint my sword.
I bought an unction of a mountebank,
So mortal that, but dip a knife in it,
Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare,
Collected from all simples that have virtue
Under the moon, can save the thing from death
This is but scratch'd withal. I'll touch my point
With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly,
It may be death.
Let's further think of this,
Weigh what convenience both of time and means
May fit us to our shape. If this should fall,
And that our drift look through our bad performance.
'Twere better not assay'd. Therefore this project
Should have a back or second, that might hold
If this did blast in proof. Soft! let me see.
We'll make a solemn wager on your cunnings –
Step 13: Also emphasize the importance of Plan B. You need to have a fall-back option, just in case. But although that unexpected "envenom'd blade" bit has its undeniable charms (well, well, well, who would've thought, indeed ...), you don't want him developing too many ideas of his own: independence of thought is not exactly a required attribute in a tool; much to the contrary. So just make a bit of a show of further thinking about the matter, and then swiftly hone in on ...
I ha't!
When in your motion you are hot and dry –
As make your bouts more violent to that end –
And that he calls for drink, I'll have prepar'd him
A chalice for the nonce; whereon but sipping,
If he by chance escape your venom'd stuck,
Our purpose may hold there.
Step 14 (the conclusion): A brief description of your Plan B (which is actually only Part B of the one plan you've been hatching all along of course), and then you should be set. Now, ideally you'd have him expressly commit to this last step, too, of course. But if you're interrupted at this point, it probably no longer matters all that much, considering all the rest he has already promised to do. And who knows, maybe that interruption only serves to further strengthen his resolve, as the news of his sister's death certainly must ...
Copyright 2002 – 2009: Ulrike Böhm, all rights reserved.
