What Matters in Hamlet

What Matters in Hamlet

Margaret W. Ferguson’s “Hamlet: Letters and Spirits” is an essay that explores many aspects of Shakespeare’s Hamlet, with a focus on linguistics. The essay does many things for the student of Shakespeare. Generally speaking, it exposes and helps one understand how rich the play is by examining aspects of the text to which readers and critics alike seem often to pay little attention. Ferguson’s main interest, in the essay, is in “certain techniques of wordplay,” and, in that regard, there is certainly a great deal in which to be interested, as Ferguson makes very clear throughout the essay. Appropriately, Ferguson devotes much of the essay to the examination of Hamlet’s use of pun, and his habit of blatantly undoing the rhetorical devices of others; she points out how important it is to recognize these things, as they reveal not only a lot about Hamlet the man but also about Hamlet as a work of art. The essay does not focus, though, as many do, entirely on the character of Hamlet. Ferguson goes on to illustrate the importance of language in all of the play from the repetition of the word “matter” to the symbolic description of the mysterious Lamord. Perhaps most importantly, Ferguson provides a way of looking at Hamlet that at once submerges the reader in new depths of meaning, and increases one’s appreciation of Shakespeare’s artistry.
The first thing to which Ferguson draws the reader’s attention is Hamlet’s use of “language to effect a divorce between words and their conventional meanings” (246). The example provided for this is the very first line Hamlet speaks. After Claudius addresses Hamlet as “my cousin . . . and my son” (I. ii. 64), Hamlet disrupts Claudius’ rhetoric by punning aside to the audience “A little more than kin, and less than kind” (I. ii. 65). Of course here, as Ferguson indicates, Hamlet’s pun expresses his feeling that the King is neither natural nor kindly. Ferguson also points out “Claudius’ rhetorical penchant for yoking heterogeneous ideas by violence together” (248). But Claudius has not joined only ideas together, but bodies, i.e. his own with that of Hamlet’s mother, the Queen. By pointing out Hamlet’s preoccupation with disjoining linguistic unions, such as those characteristic of Claudius’ speech, the reader comes to see Hamlet’s disgust with literal unions, a theme that is prevalent and apparent throughout the play. So, Hamlet, in his first line, is not merely attacking the rhetorical style of his uncle, but is trying to separate his mother from him. Another function this wordplay of Hamlet’s serves is to call into question whether or not any word can have a single literal meaning. Ferguson first explores this idea through the exchange between Hamlet and Polonius in II. ii. Polonius asks Hamlet, in this scene, “What do you read, my lord?” (189) and Hamlet, responding literally, answers, “Words, words, words” (190). And when Polonius persists: “What is the matter, my lord?” (191), meaning to inquire what the words are about, Hamlet asks, “Between who?” (192). Ferguson speculates, and I believe it is easy to agree with her, that this is meant to call into question the very nature of language and emphasize the important role it plays in Hamlet. Ferguson smartly points out that the word “matter” is an excellent example of this concern with language within the play. “Matter,” we are told, is spoken 26 times in the play, and is often used in different ways. This not only seems to lead the reader to dwell on the problem of language and metaphor—which Ferguson shows the reader is a big problem within the play—but also, through a bilingual pun on “mother,” directs the reader’s attention once again on Hamlet’s problems with his own mother.
Ferguson seems to suggest, relying heavily on the work of Freud, that this pun on “matter” reinforces what she calls the classic psychoanalytical explanation of Hamlets problems, namely, why he delays so in his revenge. The pun, Ferguson argues, seems to relate “mother” to mere matter (the Latin equivalent) and suggests that, for Hamlet, “the mother is the matter that comes between the father and the son” (250). Ferguson first gives a brief explanation of the idea of the oedipal complex, as outlined by Freud, and of Jacques Lacan’s theory that Hamlet’s words of disparagement toward Claudius are really indicative of repressed admiration for his uncle. If the reader isn’t already acquainted with both of these ideas, Ferguson does well to introduce him or her to them. The author, though, does not merely restate old ideas, but builds upon them; drawing support from act III scene iv in which Hamlet tries frantically to draw a clear epistemological distinction between his father and his uncle, between his uncle and the Ghost, and, ultimately, between himself and his uncle. Ferguson claims that Hamlet’s confusion about his father, the ghost and his uncle are one reason he cannot resolve the “matter of his mother or his revenge” (252). Another reason, Ferguson argues, Hamlet is trapped by this oedipal complex, is how obviously disgusted he is by womanly flesh in light of his mother’s actions. Freud explained that marriage with one other than one’s own mother is what leads out of the oedipal complex. Obviously, the likeliest of marriage partners for Hamlet is Ophelia. Ferguson draws our attention to act III scene ii, in which Hamlet, again, through a disjoining of words, disjoins people; this time, himself from Ophelia. By examining Hamlet from a linguistic point of view, the reader gains crucial insight into what the character may be “thinking.” Since the reader is separated from Hamlets thoughts and is shown only his—often peculiar—behavior, except in the soliloquies, the reader gets important clues regarding Hamlet’s motivation by looking closely at the way he speaks, and how he interacts with other’s speech.
Ferguson distinguishes two types of Hamlet’s act of “materializing” language in the play. The first type, which we’ve heretofore examined, occurs when Hamlet’s dialogue with others has the effect of materializing words in such a way that invites us to question the line between literal and figurative meanings. Ferguson seems to divide the play into two parts, marked by Hamlet’s transition from this first type of materializing to the second form, which extends to the realm of deeds as well as words. For Ferguson, this transition occurs at Act III scene iv, when Hamlet kills Polonius through the curtain in his mother’s closet. At this time in the play, the reader should recall what Hamlet says to Polonius in Act III scene ii. While discussing Polonius’ stage experience—his role as Caesar in a university production—Hamlet remarks “It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf” (94). Soon after this, Hamlet makes the transition to a “darker, literalized” kind of materializing by figuratively turning Polonius into a sacrificial calf, thereby “realizing” his previous figure of speech. This kind of materializing, Ferguson calls “incorpsing”—a term coined within the very play in question. Thus far, Hamlet has frequently unyoked words from their conventional meaning but now he has clearly separated a body from a spirit. Ferguson shows the reader that this “incorpsing activity” is important for several reasons.
Firstly, we ought to draw parallels between the closet scene—in which Hamlet inquires, before killing Polonius, “How now, a rat?” (III. iv. 23)—and the play within the play Hamlet calls The Mousetrap. Ferguson asks us to see that by killing the “rat” whom he thought was the king he already symbolically caught, Hamlet is beginning to play the role of the king as depicted in the Mousetrap play. And indeed Ferguson seems to invite the reader to consider the many similarities between Hamlet and Claudius. Both Hamlet and his uncle are cast in the role of the king who “thinks himself capable of literally disposing of whatever comes between him and his desires” (255). Ferguson reminds us that there is quite a difference between separating words from their conventional meanings and separating bodies from spirits. “In coming to resemble Claudius,” Ferguson points out, “Hamlet is driven to forget this distinction” (256). Ferguson spends much of the latter half of the essay contemplating some similarities between Hamlet and Claudius, asking the reader to consider what these similarities may imply about Shakespeare’s view of kings in general.
First, Ferguson calls to the reader’s attention the act of Hamlet switching Claudius’ letter ordering the death of Hamlet with his own letter ordering the death of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Both Hamlet and Claudius embody the kingly “power to order instant death” (255). More importantly, she discusses the parallels between Hamlet’s “message” from the ghost and Claudius’ more literal message from Hamlet in act IV scene vii. Both messages come from a “land of no return,” so to speak. In the case of Hamlet and the ghost, this “land” is the land of death. In the case of Claudius’ letter from Hamlet, the land is England; from whence Claudius expected Hamlet never to return. What is important too look at here, Ferguson claims, is the way the two interpret the messages they receive. Both initially respond with confusion. “What should this mean?” Claudius asks Polonius upon receiving the letter from Hamlet, “Are all the rest come back?/ Or is this some abuse, and no such thing?” (IV. vii. 46-47). Claudius’ reaction to the letter he receives reflects both Hamlet’s initial bewilderment with the ghost—“Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damned” (I. iv. 40)—and directly recalls Hamlet’s speech in the soliloquy of the last scene of act II, as he ponders whether or not “the spirit I have seen” is a demon that “perhaps . . . /Abuses me to damn me” (555-560). Both Claudius and Hamlet eventually interpret their respective messages in a way in which they find incentive to act murderously. In either case, Ferguson concludes, “the interpreter’s decision about its meaning creates the deadliness” (256). And though it is left somewhat vague, Ferguson seems to believe Shakespeare invites the reader to brood on this problem of interpretation and the end results of interpreting in the way Hamlet and Claudius do.
Finally, Ferguson discusses, in depth, the significance of the scene that directly follows Claudius’ receipt of Hamlet’s letter, in which he describes to Laertes’—in an attempt to manipulate “Laertes’ competitive spirit to transform his rage against Claudius. . . into anger against Hamlet” (257)—a mysterious Norman named Lamord. Ferguson claims that not only is the name Lamord important but, as we’ve seen elsewhere in the text, the way in which the name fits into the speaker’s rhetoric when it is first uttered is also full of meaning. In the scene, Claudius describes an unnamed Norman who, because of his skill on horseback, seemed to be “incorpsed and demi-natured with the brave beast” (IV. vii. 85-86). First, Ferguson shows one the significance of a name one would perhaps give little thought to otherwise. Lamord, Ferguson points out, is extremely similar to “la mort,” literally “the death,” in French. As we’ve seen Shakespeare pun across languages before with “matter,” we have little reason to doubt the pregnancy and intentionality of the name given to this mysterious Norman. So, when we see the name “Lamord,” Shakespeare means for us to see “Death.” Ferguson notes that if we substitute “Death” for “Lamord” when the name is first spoken by Laertes, the name takes on even deeper meaning. “A Norman was’t?” Laertes asks of the still unnamed horseman (IV. vii. 89). When Claudius replies in the affirmative, Laertes says “Upon my life, Lamord” (IV. vii. 91). Ferguson then helps the reader make connections they may have otherwise missed. “Upon my life, Lamord,” that is, “Upon my life, Death” echoes Horatio’s speech in Act I scene i after he has seen the Ghost of Old Hamlet: “upon my life/This spirit” (170-171). Both Horatio and Laertes give voice to the idea that the spirit of Death sits upon all of the characters in the play, just as Lamord sits upon his “brave beast,” a symbol perhaps for humanity. Ferguson identifies this scene, in which we are shown this symbol of death astride his horse, as a memento mori; we are forced here—much like Hamlet, confronted with Yorick’s skull—to realize our own mortality. Hamlet is, in a sense, blind to these kinds of memento mori, Ferguson claims, because an appreciation of them requires a love of life, which Hamlet seems to lack. Ferguson points out that “Lamord,” aside from being quite similar to “la mort” is also similar to “l’amour” and, furthermore, the Latin “amor” is contained within “Lamord.” In this way, Shakespeare seems to ask us to remember love, as Hamlet fails to do, as well as death.
“Who’s there?” begins Hamlet, and right away the reader is confronted with the problems of meaning and identity. Ferguson, by examining mostly linguistic aspects of the play, helps the reader discover just how crucial to the play these problems are and what they do for Hamlet as a work of art. Ferguson shows the student of Shakespeare—whether novice or otherwise—how much “wordplay” really matters to the play. After reading “Hamlet: Letters and Spirits” one can go back and read Hamlet from an entirely different perspective; finding new meaning within the play and confirming the importance of the things Ferguson claims in her extremely useful essay.