Orchid exhibition, Kew Gardens, London, England (photo (c) Ulrike Boehm; all rights reserved)
Remember that this monologue follows straight on the heels of the first act's very first scene, which has already made us very, very suspicious indeed about the death of that "dear brother" of Claudius's and the state of affairs in Denmark. Thus, there is considerable significance in the fact that Claudius is not only the very next person we see after the end of that dreadful first scene, but also that he himself is the one who tells us that he became King upon his brother's death and is thus now the ruler of this kingdom where the dead walk the earth at night (and much as I applaude Grigori Kosintzev's ingenious idea of having the first part of his announcement read by a herold and the following lines spread among the noblemen and foreign delegates present at court, who are seen discussing the herold's proclamation in their various mother tongues, I wouldn't for anything in the world want to forego the opportunities created by the dramatological sequence "as originally written." But then, Kosintzev doesn't show Act I, Scene 1 to begin with ...)
Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death
The memory be green,
"Green," of course, refers to the fact that memory of the former King's death is still fresh; in other words, he died only recently. (Green = all things new; possibly also a reference to the green of the funeral wreaths left to wither on the grave, although in the present context we're probably talking "crypt" rather than "graveyard.")
But boy, that royal "we" sure already seems to fit him like a glove, doesn't it? Didn't take him long to get used to that at all ...
and that it us befitted
To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole kingdom
To be contracted in one brow of woe,
Note that Claudius only speaks of grief being "fitting" – he doesn't mention that he himself actually does (or at any time did) have any such feelings; rather, he leaves it to the listener to take that for granted. This sentiment is reinforced by the then following extension of the plural from the royal "we" to the "whole kingdom," implying a twofold association between the new King and his subjects: first, by indicating that the whole kingdom does, indeed, join our Claudius in mourning his brother, and secondly, by equating the King's own person and his feelings with his entire kingdom as such; thus invoking the conceptional foundation of the pluralis maiestatis (i.e., the royal "we"). As set forth in the respective part of the cast of characters section, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern echo this idea when they in preemptive obedience express their acceptance of the idea that Hamlet is a danger even to the King and must of course be shipped off to England, for the King's and hence, the entire kingdom's sake.
Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature
That we with wisest sorrow think on him
Together with remembrance of ourselves.
The closest Claudius comes to revealing his motivations for his brother's murder: he wanted what King Hamlet had, especially his crown and his wife. In every respect, including that one commanded by nature. Of course while Gertrude's first husband was alive, he would never have ... no, really ... him?! Please ... But now that the man is dead – 'tis a shame, of course; I mean, "sorrow" and all that, even "wisest sorrow" – but truthfully, can ya' blame Claudius? I mean, just look at the woman, surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting, ain't she still darned attractive? So, there. And let's be honest, folks, King Hamlet won't rejoin the world of the living even if Gertrude were to remain a widow and never remarry at all. So what's the difference, right? (Yes, well. Only that little matter of custom, decorum, propriety and all this, not to mention that – although we don't know this for certain yet – Claudius has had a hand in his brother's sudden exit to begin with. But let that go ...)
Therefore our sometime sister, now our queen,
Can't you just hear that built-in fanfare? Spoken like a true victor. (Err, wait a minute. Victor over whom, exactly? Hmmm ...)
Th' imperial jointress to this warlike state,
Then of course, there's the distribution of power to consider. He who is married to the queen rightfully governs at her side. And since he has the backing of the former King's wife, the country should unite behind him as well. Besides, lest anyone forgets, there's a Norwegian army being assembled against Denmark (remember that special nightly watch). So this just isn't the time for internal discord. Let Gertrude's choice govern the country as a whole in this.
Have we, as 'twere with a defeated joy,
With an auspicious, and a dropping eye,
With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in marriage,
In equal scale weighing delight and dole,
Taken to wife;
![Peter Paul Rubens: The Marriage [of Catherine de Medici] (1621-1625, Musée du Louvre, Paris, France)](../images/Rubens-Marriage-small.JPG)
Peter Paul Rubens: The Marriage [of Catherine de Medici] (1621-1625, Musée du Louvre, Paris, France)
Have you ever noticed how people start getting really, really verbose if they feel they're on weak ground but they absolutely need to get a certain point across? For one thing, he's already made his point with the two preceding lines; or if you want to go further, actually with pretty much everything he has told us so far: Gertrude has consented to marry him; yes, it's early after his brother's death, and of course, that death is no occasion to celebrate; but in any event there it is, and there's an end to it. Now let's move on, shall we? And I mean, really ... congratulations on the colourful imagery and all that, but come on, how many more ways can you say this? With every repetition, all that Claudius does is reinforce the idea how well he knows how unfitting his quick marriage to Gertrude is by the era's prevailing social standards. (And then, also note how the quadruple relativation of concepts by joining terminological opposites – "defeated joy," "mirth in funeral," "dirge in marriage," etc. – contrasts with the simple concluding statement, "taken to wife." That point reestablished, we're obviously on safe ground again.)
nor have we herein barr'd
Your better wisdoms, which have freely gone
With this affair along. For all, our thanks.
Claudius the master schemer showing his face for the first time in his very first monologue, too, after all. Would he really have needed to consult with anyone on his marriage to Gertrude at all? Gee, I don't know, but it certainly doesn't really seem to matter anymore now. Because who can really oppose the wedding as unfitting, now that it has even been okayed by the royal counsel (led by chief Counsellor Polonius, one easily imagines even without a specific stage direction as to whom Claudius addresses here)? No no no, folks. This thing is kosher, by any and all applicable standards. Even the royal counsel says so. And with that out of the way, we can now finally turn our attention to the business of the day, such as the two ambassadors' mission to Norway, Laertes's request for leave to return to France, and of course, the little matter of Gertrude's son, Prince Hamlet, who should have succeeded his father to the throne instead of his uncle ...
Copyright 2002 – 2009: Ulrike Böhm, all rights reserved.
