John William Waterhouse: Ophelia (1894, private collection)
Act IV, Scene 5 (Ophelia, with Gertrude, Claudius, and Horatio).
Ophelia's mad songs and prophecies: a document in madness on the Bard's part as much as on the maid's, because here he really goes overboard with the symbolism – almost more so than Hamlet's musings in "To be, or not to be." Is it any wonder that the rest of the cast find her ravings utterly beyond them (or pretend to do so, like Claudius)? Alas, my little Cassandra, that's been the fate of mad prophetesses since time immemorial ...
Structurally, the scene comes in two parts: the first is her interaction with Gertrude, Claudius, and Horatio, modeled – I think – fairly closely on Cassandra's exchange with her mother Hecuba, Greek herald Talthybius, and the Leader of the Chorus in Euripides's "Trojan Women" (which incidentally also tells me that Horatio's presence during this scene is no accident, even if he doesn't have much to say besides his initial comment to Gertrude, "'Twere good she were spoken with," and also apart from the fact that Claudius finally sends him to watch over Ophelia, and never mind that the 1604 Second Quarto provides for the presence of another "Gentleman" at the beginning of this scene, who also gets assigned some of the lines Horatio speaks in the 1623 "First Folio", and whom we find transformed into a doctor in Sir Kenneth Branagh's movie). The second sequence then takes place after Laertes's arrival, when Ophelia enacts funeral rites of some sort; involving the entire group, now enlarged by her brother, who however is the only speaker besides her, commenting on her behaviour much in the way a Chorus – or Leader of the Chorus – would do in a Greek tragedy. Cassandra's exchange with the Chorus and its Leader in the second part of Aischylos's "Agamemnon" seems to have provided a certain amount of inspiration here.
Now, the big question on most everybody's mind besides the precise meaning of her ravings is of course, why does she go mad at all – and does it have anything to do with the fact that, as Sir Kenneth Branagh would have us believe, the relationship between herself and Hamlet has turned sexual at some point; whether on that day when the Prince stormed into her bedchamber or during the three preceding months? Or is Ophelia's madness (as the contrary theory holds) in fact her sexual liberation from the repressions put on her by her father and her brother, and from her unfulfilled desire for a likewise sexually repressed Hamlet? Neither of these, in my view; and while I do think that sexuality plays a big role in the context of this scene, and also that Hamlet in fact did "tumble" Ophelia – although not quite in the express manner Sir Kenneth would insist on – I am not convinced that we're merely looking at a pervasively sexualised child; nor at the Shakespearean "mad child" equivalent of Hawthorne's scarlet woman Hester Prynne, who uses her shame to carve out a margin of freedom for herself that she couldn't have had otherwise, or, for that matter, John Fowles's unhappy "French Lieutenant's Woman" Sarah Woodruff, who tries to do the same thing even while unjustly cast in the role of the town slut. For both of these women make their choice(s) with a deliberation Ophelia is simply no longer capable of. But more fundamentally speaking, the maid's madness, to me, is simultaneously much more complex and much more simple than any of the motivations suggested elsewhere.
The starting point of any analysis has to be Ophelia's very youth and inexperience, which render her absolutely defenceless to the catastrophic series of events that will put an end to her and Hamlet's romance before it has even really begun; not only defenceless, that is, to her father's and her brother's words of warning and prohibition but also to Hamlet's intrusion into her bedchamber, to the loads and loads of verbal abuse he subsequently piles onto her, to his highly suggestive behaviour, and finally, to the death of her father, also brought about by the Prince. The quick succession of these events leaves her stunned, naked, and profoundly and permanently injured, without the healing balm of rationalisation, suppression, anger, grief, or whatever other technique an even marginally more mature woman would have had at her disposition in order to deal with them. This is all the worse for the fact that Ophelia is also extremely impressionable – and, yes, she is a teenager: not any older than that, but a teenager certainly, with all the hormones running rampant that do run rampant in a girl's body at that time. Thus, Hamlet's treatment of her, as well as the cacophony of male voices resounding inside her head, does wreak absolute havoc in her mind. And oh yes, it is a powerful cacophony indeed that she is hearing:
"I do know, when the blood burns, how prodigal the soul lends the tongue vows. – That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs ... – Virtue itself scopes not calumnious strokes. – Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. – In the morn and liquid dew of youth contagious blastments are most imminent. – Do you think I meant country matters? – Be something scanter of your maiden presence. – You nickname God's creatures and make your wantonness your ignorance. – The chariest maid is prodigal enough if she unmask her beauty to the moon. – Lady, shall I lie in your lap? – Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister. – Beauty will sooner transform honesty to a bawd than honesty can translate beauty into his likeness. – Tender yourself more dearly, or you'll tender me a fool. – Wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them. – ... if with too credent ear you your chaste treasure open to his unmast'red importunity. – Why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners? – Weigh what loss your honour may sustain. – It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge. – These blazes, daughter, giving more light than heat, you must not take for fire. – I could interpret between you and your love, if I could see the puppets dallying. – Keep you in the rear of your affection, out of the shot and danger of desire. – I did love you once. – The canker galls the infants of the spring too oft before their buttons be disclos'd. – Get thee to a nunnery!"
And that's only what we ourselves have actually heard them say: all in all, enough talk for not one but two Ophelias' young brains to be terminally screwed with to the point of complete shutdown, particularly combined with the sudden (even if unjustified!) treatment as a fallen woman by the very object of her own romantic feelings, who himself was the person who robbed her of her childlike innocence in the first place. This, then, certainly does leave Ophelia's emotions and instincts wide open to play out unchecked, and to respond accordingly to the auras and subconscious messages she receives from those around her. But even though this is the case, and even though we are also looking at a hormonally challenged teenager, does that mean it's really all about sex now? I simply don't believe it. Because what makes this particular age group so highly complex and so vulnerable is the very fact that developmentally they are in an "in between" state between childhood and adulthood – in many respects still child, with all the attendant innocence, naiveté, and defencelessness, and only gradually maturing into adults, with adult feelings, desires, and emotional responses. And I would expect Ophelia's behaviour to reflect all the manifold ingredients of this emotional cocktail, not merely one; however much it might have to do with the initial cause of her mental disturbance, and however much of a place it might undoubtedly still have in the context of this scene.
Now, with all that in mind, let's try to make sense of Ophelia's ramblings – and consider how she responds to each of those present during the scene, not only to Claudius (whom her instincts first and foremeost tell her to fear, despite the fact that, for obvious reasons, she now also projects all her sexual phantasies on him); or only to Claudius and Laertes, for that matter.
Where is the beauteous Majesty of Denmark?
Ophelia's opening question, uttered as the Queen approaches her. But can we assume that the maid initially even recognises Gertrude? Looking at the aforementioned reference passage in Euripides's "Trojan Women," I am not entirely sure; particularly given that Gertrude at this time is a woman severely burdened by grief, sorrow and repentance herself, certainly not a "beauteous" state of mind she would be projecting to Ophelia's sensory tentacles at all. Thus, we might well be able to take the question at face value and leave it at that. But if we do want to go further, the interpretative possibilities range from an inquiry into the causes of Gertrude's remarkably changed appearance to one about Denmark's erstwhile joy and glory as a country, or also about its murdered King.
How now, Ophelia?
How should I your true-love know
From another one?
The beginning of the old folk song that will permeate the scene. Superficially sung to the absent Hamlet, but considering that during the "play within the play" Ophelia has learned how Claudius has probably come to his throne and obtained Gertrude's hand, it might well be a comment on the royal couple's marriage, too.
True-love: God. In flower symbolism also: forget-me-nots – faithful/eternal love and remembrance.
Know, biblically: intercourse; reproduction.
By his cockle hat and staff
And his sandal shoon.
The most obvious image in the song's third and fourth lines, taken together, is that of a pilgrim; again most likely symbolising the absent Hamlet. But there is also a pervasive subtext of healing, purification/protection from sin, and even death: meaning that Ophelia senses Claudius's fear that if Hamlet should ever return, he himself (the King) might be removed from power? I think this is at least a possibility.
Cockle: Pilgrimage; in heraldry also: high naval command and great victories. A metal cockle shell ornament was worn by pilgrims returning from St. James's shrine in Santiago de Compostela, Galicia, Spain, one of the most important centres of pilgrimage from the early Middle Ages onwards (the cockle shell is the symbol of the Order of St. James). – A cockle shell with drips of water can also signify a baptism.
Staff: a pilgrim's staff. Biblically: a symbol of Christ ("The Rod of Jesse"); also: the symbol of the Tree of Life growing in the Garden of Eden. – The Rod of Aaron: The Jewish high priest Aaron's rod, which first turned into a serpent before the pharaoh, swallowing the Egyptian high priest's staff which for its part had turned into an asp, and on a later occasion miraculously blossomed and produced almonds. Also the name of the plant chosen by medieval magicians as the symbol of their power (it still sometimes represents rods/wands on Tarot cards). – As a symbol of medicine: the staff of Apollo's son, the healing god Asklepios; a staff with his sacred animal, the snake, wrapped around it. Asklepios was pulled from his dying mother Coronis's womb in birth, which came to reflect his ability to turn death into life. – Caduceus: the wand of Hermes, the Greek messenger god and patron of merchants and travellers, who also guided souls on their way into the underworld; often mixed with the symbolism associated with the staff of Asklepios. – In heraldry (pale, pallet): military strength; fortitude.
Shoes, biblically: protection from all things unclean (including hell, and the Devil); covering of feet (particularly if used metaphorically to symbolise the male sex organ). – But also: evangelism. In heraldry: strength; stability; expedition. – Sandals: a pilgrim's or evangelist's shoes.
Also: Ankh, the ancient Egyptian key of life and truth; a hieroglyph formed by a sling-shaped sandal strap, which is occasionally also seen as an inverted tear (therefore see also references to tears and weeping), topping a cross-like symbol (which in turn is sometimes also identified as a phallic symbol, and/or the union of Isis and Osiris). Mirrors were often shaped in the form of an Ankh, and since death mirrored life, the glyph also stood for the netherworld. The Coptic Christians adopted the Ankh as their cross.
Alas, sweet lady, what imports this song?
Say you? Nay, pray you mark.
He is dead and gone, lady,
He is dead and gone;
At his head a grass-green turf,
At his heels a stone.
O, ho!
"He" is certainly, on one level, either Polonius or the murdered King, Gertrude's former husband – or even both of them blended together. But the death- and catastrophe-related imagery suggests that Ophelia senses that there is worse yet to come; and her placing an imaginary gravestone at the foot end of a grave, combined with sexual connotations, also indicates her instinctive awareness of the country's inverted state, brought about by Claudius's immoral reign, the effects of which are felt all the more since he enters the scene at this very moment.
Death: sometimes equated with sexual climax.
Human head: top; lead; also: rationality. In heraldry: honour; victory. A skull: death.
Grass, biblically: the finality of all earthly existence. In spiritualism: protection, as well as submission.
Heels, biblically: submission; vulnerability; even potential disaster. – A foot: evangelism; following; foundation; but also: authority (crushing feet). A bare foot: worship; humility; lack of social status. But also: a metaphor for (male) genitalia, covered (in the sense of "concealed") by a person's shoes or, in divine or celestial beings like angels, by their wings. – In heraldry: strength, stability, expedition.
Stone: most likely a grave stone. – Biblically: Christ as the cornerstone and foundation of faith; the twelve stones representing the twelve tribes of Israel. Also: spirituality (all men as "living" stones). In heraldry: rocks – safety, refuge protection. – Millstones: human society's inherent opposites. In spiritualism, particularly concerning (semi-) precious stones: healing; protection from harm.
Nay, but Ophelia –
Pray you mark.
White his shroud as the mountain snow –
Alas, look here, my lord!
Innocence, purity, truth, and Godliness terminally perverted, "raped," by vice, whose representative enters during this same verse: Claudius's effect on the state of affairs in Denmark, and in Elsinore specifically, highlighted even further.
White: innocence; purity; goodness; humility; simplicity, cleanliness; truth; precision; supreme beauty; perfection; light; brightness; hope; happiness; joy; peace; truce; harmony; marriage (in Western cultures); birth; medicine; winter; coldness; death (in Eastern cultures); sterility. – Biblically: God/Divinity/the Creator; the radiance of Christ's life everlasting; Easter; resurrection; baptism; liturgy (liturgical linens; the priest's liturgical albs); holiness; the Eucharist; sacrifice (sacrificial robes; colour of sacrificial animals); angels; charity (particularly in the tricolour symbolism based on 1 Corinthians 13: faith – red, Christ's blood; hope – blue, St. Mary's mantle; and charity – white, the Eucharist's host). – Spiritually: Ghosts and spirits. In heraldry: peace; sincerity. A white knight: a noble saviour. – But also: a whitewash – a cover up. A white flag: parlay and surrender.
Larded all with sweet flowers;
Sweet flowers: spring rituals; driving out winter. New love; irresistible love; sensuality. – Song of Solomon 5,13: "His cheeks are as a bed of spices, as sweet flowers." – Also: the rape of Persephone (Roman: Proserpina – daughter of Zeus and Demeter/Ceres, the goddess of fertility) by Hades (Pluto), the King of the underworld; which according to Hesiod's "Ode to Demeter" occurred while the maid was "picking sweet flowers." Henceforth, Persephone had to live with Hades during the winter half of each year. In spring she was reborn and returned to the earth as a maiden. Thus she became the patroness of the cycle of life and death, and the seasonal cycle. – Meadowsweet flowers: futility; lack of purpose; uselessness, particularly of death.
Which bewept to the grave did not go
With true-love showers.
The verse's last two lines will in the scene's second part – the "funeral rites" Ophelia stages after Laertes's arrival – be reversed into: "in his grave rain'd many a tear" (and I think it's merely a slip of the tongue that Jean Simmons, Sir Laurence Olivier's Ophelia, here omits the "not" and actually does have the object of her song go to his grave "with true-love showers.") This and the imagery relating to Claudius, who is responsible for King Hamlet's death as well as for Polonius's "hugger-mugger" burial, suggests that here, although she has premonitions of much greater evil yet to come, she is indeed primarily concerned with the two men already dead (the unwept-for Polonius, and the insincerely-wept-for King Hamlet), whereas later on her references are to Hamlet – or more specifically, to her love for him.
Tears: grief and mourning. – Flowers believed to have sprung from Mary's tears at the foot of the Cross: Virginia Spiderwort (because of its blue tear-like fluid from spent blossoms); Ladies Mantle (because of the drops of water remaining on its leaves from rain); Lily of the Valley (because of its small tear-like white blossoms); Gromwell (ditto); Quaking Grass (because of its tear-like seed clumps); Job's Tears (because of its round tear-like seeds, which were used for Rosary beads, wherefore the flower is known in Spain as Lagrimas de Rosario [Rosary Tears]); Larkspur (because of its tear-like buds); Sundew (because of its tear-like drops of rain water on flower filaments); and Lungwort (whose blue flower eyes and reddish buds stand for Mary's eyes, which are red from crying).
Ankh: the ancient Egyptian key of life and truth; a hieroglyph formed by an inverted tear, which is occasionally also seen as sling-shaped sandal strap (therefore see also the "sandal" and "shoe" symbolism, above), topping a cross-like symbol (which in turn is sometimes also identified as a phallic symbol, and/or the union of Isis and Osiris). Mirrors were often shaped in the form of an Ankh, and since death mirrored life, the glyph also stood for the netherworld. The Coptic Christians adopted the Ankh as their cross. – Moreover, the ritual weeping for mythological sun deities slain in winter (and resurrected in spring).
Grave: often, bed.
True-love (cf. supra): God. In flower symbolism also: forget-me-nots – faithful/eternal love and remembrance.
Showers: rain; water; cleanliness/cleansing; flow; circulation; irrigation; fertility; bounty; exuberance; but also: sadness; destruction; death. – Biblically: the Holy Spirit; holiness in general; (new) life; baptism; resurrection; transformation; purification; confirmation of faith and Divine acceptance; the Lord's word; truth.
How do you, pretty lady?
Well, God dild you!
Dild: yield, reward.
Superficially, a thanks for inquiring after her well-being. But also a warning, particularly in connection
with the following two lines: "You'll get what's coming to you in the end ..."
They say the owl was a baker's daughter.
Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be.
"... so you better watch out, Devil that you are. You just don't know what God has in store for you."
The owl, to Christians: a symbol of death and the Devil, evil powers, bad news, destruction, and desolation. In Celtic spiritualism: a guide through darkness and the underworld; a swift hunter and unmasker of deceivers. Also: a symbol of motherhood and fertility (death and renewal), wisdom, healing, clairvoyance, and sorcery (including black magic and bad luck). The call of an owl foretells an impending death; seeing an owl can have the same meaning. Dreams are believed to sometimes contain messages from owls (companions of the moon goddess, Athena's Celtic counterpart). According to the Kabbalah, Adam's first wife Lilith (in Christian lore, a demon of Babylonian origin) is likewise associated with the owl. – Mythologically: the bird of Zeus's daughter Athena (Roman: Minerva), the goddess of wisdom, reason, strength, self-mastery, understanding, (silent) observation, and truth. It symbolises perception, vigilance, prudence, and acute wit (also in heraldry).
"The owl was a baker's daughter:" Probably a reference to a folk tale according to which a baker's daughter was transformed into an owl as a punishment for greed (according to some versions of the story, greed in the presence of Christ, whom she took for an ordinary customer); maybe also a Celtic tale about a woman turned into an owl for deceiving her demigod husband into telling her the secret of his own creation, or a Welsh story about a girl punished for sexual betrayal.
God be at your table!
I don't think this is directed to Claudius: Ophelia senses there is no Godliness whatsoever in him. Depending on the way the sentence is emphasized, it could be directed either to Gertrude ("God be at your table!" – in the sense of, "I hope you will find salvation after all") or to Horatio, the only remaining person whose virtue is still untainted ("God be at your table!"). – Biblically, it's a reference to communion; the Last Supper; the altar (also as a symbol of Christ himself); offerings to God; spiritual contact with God; and the Eucharistic Sacrifice.
Conceit upon her father.
Pray let's have no words of this; but when they ask, you what
it means, say you this:
Claudius believes that Ophelia is thinking about her father. Or at least, that's what he says. But is she really ... or, for that matter, does he really believe she is? He wouldn't honestly tell us, and Ophelia clearly doesn't want the subject touched this overtly, either.
To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day,
All in the morning bedtime,
And I a maid at your window,
To be your Valentine.
Then up he rose and donn'd his clo'es
And dupp'd the chamber door,
Let in the maid, that out a maid
Never departed more.
Pretty Ophelia!
Maiden innocence taken away (perhaps before its time) by a romantic lover. But is this meant literally; is Ophelia referring to herself and Hamlet? Or to Gertrude, who was – if no virgin – at least chaste and virtuous before she "knew" Claudius? Or is she referring to Denmark's corrupted state? All of these are possibilities. I think the verse must be seen in conjunction with the next one ("By Gis, and by Saint Charity" – for a more detailed analysis, see the discussion there). In any event, it is clearly addressed to the King, as his embarrassed reaction shows.
St. Valentine's Day: Named for a Roman priest called Valentinus, who was martyred on February 14, 269 or 270 A.D., either for refusing to give up Christianity or – perhaps more likely – for defying the orders of emperor Claudius II ("the Cruel") by performing secret marriages. February 14 was originally the holiday sacred to Juno (Greek: Hera), the goddess of women, marriage, and eroticism, and the wife of Jove/Jupiter/Zeus; and the following day, the beginning of the festival of Lupercalia, which honoured her and would later become one of the pagan roots of carnival (the other one being the custom, e.g. in Southern Germany and in the South of France, to drive out winter and its demons by wild celebrations, processions and garish masks). On the eve of Lupercalia, the names of young women were written on pieces of paper and put into a box or a jar, from which young men then drew names. The couples thus formed remained partners throughout the festival, and sometimes they fell in love and married. Due to severe military recruitment problems, emperor Claudius, however, cancelled all existing marriages and forbade new weddings, in order to deprive men of their motivation for staying at home. But Valentinus (and a few other priests) continued to perform marriage rites regardless. He was eventually apprehended, and legend has it that during his captivity he became friends (and allegedly romantically involved) with his jailor's daughter, whom according to some versions of the story he also cured from blindness, and to whom he is said to have written one or more letters signed "from your Valentine."
To this day, there is a belief that the first maiden (virgin) girl a man sees on St. Valentine's Day is supposed to become his one true love. So, too, birds are said to begin mating on February 14. Despite the Church's best efforts to convert the holiday into one with chaster connotations, eroticism continued to play an important part in its meaning, including in love poetry (see, e.g., the epithalamion by John Donne, below).
Morning: new day; earliness; renewal; Christ (Morning Star – also called Venus, the Roman name of the love goddess Aphrodite); resurrection; rebirth; Phoenix (see below, "sun").
"Then up he rose and donn'd his clo'es ..." – indicates that he was naked before; so the maid may have seen him in that state through his window. "To see" – "to know" – also biblically, "to sleep with"?
Dupp'd: opened.
Door: Christ as the passageway between God and mankind; church doors as the holy gates through which the faithful enter into the house of God. Open doors represent passages and opportunities currently available.
Indeed, la, without an oath, I'll make an end on't!
The comment is immediately followed – and contradicted – by a song beginning "By Gis and by Saint Charity," which in fact could be the beginnings of an oath; thus Ophelia is playing a similar game as Hamlet did in Get thee to a nunnery ("I loved you once" – "You should not have believed me; ... I loved you not"). But possibly this is also an indication of her impending suicide ("make an end"), which would indeed be considered an unholy act ("without an oath").
By Gis and by Saint Charity,
Alack, and fie for shame!
Young men will do't if they come to't
By Cock, they are to blame.
Quoth she, 'Before you tumbled me,
You promis'd me to wed.'
He answers:
'So would I 'a' done, by yonder sun,
An thou hadst not come to my bed.'
Another verse that overtly seems to indicate a sexual relationship between Ophelia and Hamlet; immediately following the one on St. Valentine's Day and again mirrored in an interaction between the maid and Claudius. But what exactly does she mean by "tumbled"? I've explained elsewhere and also in the introductory comments of this page the psychological reasons why I think that Ophelia's "lost innocence" is to be understood symbolically, not figuratively. With regard to this specific passage (and also the reference to St. Valentine's Day), I would also point to a passage in the classic Greek source material on which Shakespeare may have drawn in creating Ophelia's "madness" scene; namely, a comment by Zeus's brother Poseidon, the patron god of the oceans, whose exchange with his niece, Zeus's daughter Athena, the goddess of wisdom and prudence, provides the structural framework of Euripides's "Trojan Women:
And, lo, Cassandra, she the Chosen One,
Whom Lord Apollo spared to walk her way
A swift and virgin spirit, on this day
Lust hath her, and she goeth garlanded
A bride of wrath to Agamemnon's bed.
In other words, only after Apollo had (physically) spared Cassandra and "merely" punished her refusal of his courtship with madness, she was raped and abducted by Agamemnon. (In addition, Euripides expressly has her enter in a priestess' white robes, also denoting chastity.) And Aischylos's "Agamemnon" tells the same story in an exchange between Cassandra herself and the Leader of the Chorus, where the prophetess quite clearly states that she went back on her word to Apollo before there were any "bridal joys," and yet, Apollo's wrath left her "unscathed" but for the curse of unheeded prophecies. So while I do think it is possible that "before you tumbled me you promised me to wed" and the earlier reference to St. Valentine's day at least also refer to Hamlet and Ophelia – and that there even may have been talk of marriage, although probably not a formal proposal, because of any such, we'd also have heard from Claudius, Gertrude and Polonius – Shakespeare's likely classical source material further seems to suggest that for all of these verses' sexual innuendo, Ophelia feels "tumbled" and "deflowered" principally by Hamlet's other forms of abuse, which have driven her into madness. (Or equally possibly, her now completely muddled brain simply exaggerates the bedchamber scene, confusing fact and fear.) In any event, the driving force of her downfall seems to be "he;" not the girl herself. – And since pretty much everything else the maid has uttered so far exists on several levels simultaneously, Gertrude's womanly virtues and Denmark's "tumble" into sin, all clearly brought about by Claudius, are in the picture as well, I think.
Gis: Jesus.
"For charity" becomes "Saint Charity," next to faith and hope, one of the three cardinal Christian virtues (St. Paul, 1 Corinthians 13). Symbolic colour: white (the Eucharist's host – faith: red = Christ's blood; hope: blue = St. Mary's mantle). – In heraldry: represented by a heart, a pelican or a dolphin; all likewise Christian symbols. A heart: charity and sincerity; if surmounted by a flame: intense zeal or devotion. – Pelican: devoted, self-sacrificing charity; final love; redemption; resurrection; the Eucharist Sacrifice; Christ on the cross. It appears to be opening its own breast when feeding its young. This posture, together with its reddish plumage and beak created the belief that it drew on its own blood to feed its young. – Also referred to by Laertes a little later in this same scene, when speaking of "the life-rend'ring pelican." – Dolphin: charity; redemption; resurrection; affection towards children; security; joy; profound love; also: fondness for music. Dolphins are seen as intelligent, skilful life-savers; the Roman belief that they were guides to the netherworld later translated in a corresponding belief regarding Christ. But mythological imagery also associated the dolphin with the love (and sex) gods Eros (Cupid) and Venus (Aprhodite).
Cock – the animal: courage, readiness to fight, perseverance, heroism, vigilance, ability in politics. It is said to crow three times before a person's death and, mythologically, connected with the deities of sun and death. In Christianity, it is the symbol of St. Peter, who repudiated Christ three times before the cock had crowed as many times. It is also seen as a banisher of evil and darkness; as well as a reminder of human weakness and repentance. Figuratively: a phallic and fertility symbol; but sometimes also a substitute for "God" in oaths.
The sun – biblically: God Father; Christ; the Cross; Easter; resurrection; creation; Samson (strength); omniscience; spiritual enlightenment; justice; celestial and civic order; sensibility; understanding; healing. – Mythologically: Hyperion/Helios (Sol)/Phoebus Apollo; also: Heracles/Hercules. As a symbol of power, the sun epitomises absolute authority; as well as glory, illumination, intellect, vitality, fertility (initially, matriarchally; later, patriarchally), heat, the source of life and light on earth, rebirth, resurrection, the all-seeing eye, justice; law and order. – Also: the Phoenix, a bird that lives for 500 years because it refused to eat from the forbidden tree in the Garden of Eden, then builds its own funeral pyre, dies, and rises anew from the ashes. It symbolises the rising and setting of the sun; immortality; resurrection; life after death; the solar eclipse. Many mythological sun deities were slain in winter, "wept for," and then resurrected in spring. – In heraldry, the sun stands for glory, splendour, power, illumination, vitality, and light on earth.
How long hath she been thus?
I hope all will be well. We must be patient; but I cannot
choose but weep to think they would lay him i' th' cold ground.
My brother shall know of it;
Most likely another reference to Polonius's "hugger-mugger" burial, particularly considering the reference to Laertes, who shall "know of" (and presumably, revenge) it.
Tears: see above.
and so I thank you for your good
counsel. Come, my coach!
Good night, ladies. Good night, sweet
ladies. Good night, good night.
"Good counsel:" may well be addressed to Horatio, her "coach" not only by Claudius's orders as we have seen at the beginning of the scene (where he asked Gertrude to speak to her), and who may conceivably have tried to comfort Ophelia by reminding her that Laertes would certainly not take kindly to such a shabby burial of their father. Alas, man of reason that Horatio is, and although he is acting with the best and most honourable intentions towards Ophelia, he just doesn't have the wherewithal to understand the creature of instinct and emotions that she has become ... and thus he is ultimately unable to prevent her death.
"Good Night:" possibly a reference equating sleep and death.
Sweet ladies: Flower names containing the word "lady" or "ladies" often refer to St. Mary, e.g., Ladies' Mantle (a medicinal clematis vine) and Ladies Tresses (recalling the legend that Mary tore out locks of her hair in sorrow at the foot of the Cross); the reference being a short form for "Our Lady's." (There is a similar symbolism regarding flowers whose names contain the word "Madonna" or "Mary," e.g., Madonna Lily, or Marigold.) Many of these flowers are orchids (Ladies Tresses, Ladyslippers, and Ladies' Fingers, which Gertrude in her report on Ophelia's death identifies as Long Purples). These symbolise love, beauty (particularly in women), magnificence, refinement, wisdom, and thoughtfulness; but also lust, greed, and wealth. – The name "orchid" itself originates from the Greek "orchis" (testicle). Popular belief in ancient Greece held that parents could influence a baby's sex by eating orchids: an unborn child would be male if the father ate large, new tubers, whereas if the mother ate small tubers, the child would be female.
I
Hail Bishop Valentine, whose day this is;
All the air is thy diocese,
And all the chirping choristers
And other birds are thy parishioners;
Thou marriest every year
The lyric lark, and the grave whispering dove,
The sparrow that neglects his life for love,
The household bird with the red stomacher;
Thou makest the blackbird speed as soon,
As doth the goldfinch, or the halcyon;
The husband cock looks out, and straight is sped,
And meets his wife, which brings her feather-bed.
This day more cheerfully than ever shine;
This day, which might enflame thyself, old Valentine.
II.
Till now, thou warmd'st with multiplying loves
Two larks, two sparrows, or two doves;
All that is nothing unto this;
For thou this day couplest two phoenixes;
Thou makst a taper see
What the sun never saw, and what the ark
– Which was of fouls and beasts the cage and park –
Did not contain, one bed contains, through thee;
Two phoenixes, whose joined breasts
Are unto one another mutual nests,
Where motion kindles such fires as shall give
Young phoenixes, and yet the old shall live;
Whose love and courage never shall decline,
But make the whole year through, thy day, O Valentine.
III.
Up then, fair phoenix bride, frustrate the sun;
Thyself from thine affection
Takest warmth enough, and from thine eye
All lesser birds will take their jollity.
Up, up, fair bride, and call
Thy stars from out their several boxes, take
Thy rubies, pearls, and diamonds forth, and make
Thyself a constellation of them all;
And by their blazing signify
That a great princess falls, but doth not die.
Be thou a new star, that to us portends
Ends of much wonder; and be thou those ends.
Since thou dost this day in new glory shine,
May all men date records from this day, Valentine.
IV.
Come forth, come forth, and as one glorious flame
Meeting another grows the same,
So meet thy Frederick, and so
To an inseparable union go,
Since separation
Falls not on such things as are infinite,
Nor things, which are but one, can disunite.
You're twice inseparable, great, and one;
Go then to where the bishop stays,
To make you one, his way, which divers ways
Must be effected ; and when all is past,
And that you're one, by hearts and hands made fast,
You two have one way left, yourselves to entwine,
Besides this bishop's knot, of Bishop Valentine.
V.
But O, what ails the sun, that here he stays,
Longer to-day than other days?
Stays he new light from these to get?
And finding here such stars, is loth to set?
And why do you two walk,
So slowly paced in this procession?
Is all your care but to be look'd upon,
And be to others spectacle, and talk?
The feast with gluttonous delays
Is eaten, and too long their meat they praise;
The masquers come late, and I think, will stay,
Like fairies, till the cock crow them away.
Alas ! did not antiquity assign
A night as well as day, to thee, old Valentine?
VI.
They did, and night is come; and yet we see
Formalities retarding thee.
What mean these ladies, which – as though
They were to take a clock in pieces – go
So nicely about the bride?
A bride, before a "Good-night" could be said,
Should vanish from her clothes into her bed,
As souls from bodies steal, and are not spied.
But now she's laid ; what though she be?
Yet there are more delays, for where is he?
He comes and passeth through sphere after sphere;
First her sheets, then her arms, then anywhere.
Let not this day, then, but this night be thine;
Thy day was but the eve to this, O Valentine.
VII.
Here lies a she sun, and a he moon there;
She gives the best light to his sphere;
Or each is both, and all, and so
They unto one another nothing owe;
And yet they do, but are
So just and rich in that coin which they pay,
That neither would, nor needs forbear, nor stay;
Neither desires to be spared nor to spare.
They quickly pay their debt, and then
Take no acquittances, but pay again;
They pay, they give, they lend, and so let fall
No such occasion to be liberal.
More truth, more courage in these two do shine,
Than all thy turtles have and sparrows, Valentine.
VIII.
And by this act these two phoenixes
Nature again restorèd is;
For since these two are two no more,
There's but one phoenix still, as was before.
Rest now at last, and we –
As satyrs watch the sun's uprise – will stay
Waiting when your eyes opened let out day,
Only desired because your face we see.
Others near you shall whispering speak,
And wagers lay, at which side day will break,
And win by observing, then, whose hand it is
That opens first a curtain, hers or his:
This will be tried to-morrow after nine,
Till which hour, we thy day enlarge, O Valentine.
– Continue: Ophelia's "funeral rites" and flower basket –
Copyright 2002 – 2009: Ulrike Böhm, all rights reserved.
