Hamlet

Robin Hardy Online

Hamlet: The Depth of Depression

Hamlet may well be the best tragedy ever written for its thorough exposition and cleverness, and ingenious sense of timing throughout the tale. The essence of a tragedy, however, is what the story itself revolves around: the tragic hero. No tragedy can be well woven without a sound character, that so-called "tragic hero" by which the story defines itself. Hamlet achieves no greater victory than the masterful insights into Hamlet's soul--his struggle, his depression, and his belated victory. Because of the believable and multifaceted nature of the character, even the most remote audience can relate to his plight at some point. After the crucial transition from outsider to empathizer, the audience is left in wonder at the depth and breadth of personal insight.

Hamlet fits the main definitions of a tragic character: first, he is unmistakably a protagonist—the good guy. Even Claudius cannot have him killed outright because he is "loved by the distracted multitude" (4.3). His friends are loyal to him—Horatio tries to go with Hamlet in death, but finally is persuaded by Hamlet to live and tell the story. He is also keen and sharp-witted: he sees through Fortinbras' scheme to enter Denmark. The signs and characteristics all indicate that Hamlet would have made an excellent leader had things not run foul. Even Fortinbras states: "For he was likely, had he been put on, to have proved most royal" (5.2).

Additionally, Hamlet is engaged in one of the most significant moral struggles, both politically and personally. His political problem is that of a runaway kingdom; the throne has been usurped by a murderer and a covetous man, which will eventually lead to the ruin of the kingdom if left unchecked. As the Ghost states, "So the whole ear of Denmark is by a forged process of my death rankly abused" (1.5). His personal problem, and the one that gets the best of him, is that he has lost a father to a murderer and a mother to a covetous man. As if these struggles were not enough, his father (in a very interesting display of "pagan" right-to-vengeance overriding the Christian principle of mercy—Beowulf, anyone?—but not the Judeo-Christian concept of righteousness) has laden Hamlet with the duty to avenge his death. [see note below] Interestingly enough, if Hamlet had quickly dealt with Claudius' treachery, this would have been in the best interest of the kingdom, and Hamlet would have been acting in his steward-of-the-people capacity. Instead, Hamlet is forced into a stall because of his personal incapacitation. While he does set things right for the kingdom in the end, his delay in doing so costs him everything he personally holds valuable: Ophelia, his mother, his friends, and his life.

Hamlet obviously has a tragic flaw, his key flaw being a spiritual depression brought on by the turn of events. In contrast to the classical Greek flaws that are of pride or some inherent and blind character trait, Hamlet's condition is thrust upon him. The reader is aware that Hamlet was not always like this; he was active in his studies at Wittenberg, for example. Surely, with Hamlet's wealth, if he so desired to lie around in sickly depression all his life, he could have. Gertrude implores him, "Go not to Wittenberg" (1.2), and only because of her pleading does he not go back as he wishes. Also, Hamlet has actively been pursuing Ophelia — another outgoing attempt that would not happen were Hamlet chronically depressed. She tells Polonius: "He hath importuned me with love in honorable fashion" (1.3). This "honorable fashion" indicates that he was following the courtesies of society. Those who are permanently dragged down by depression wall themselves in from society at large.

Because of his depression, however, Hamlet reaches a fuller and richer state in his life. Depression, if not so severe that it paralyzes its victim, has the markedly unintended side effect of deepening a person. Hamlet's observations throughout the play when he is in his vibrant state of introspection would never have been possible were he contented. People who have never been stretched by depression itself are remarkably dull and shallow, and Hamlet foils this so clearly. In Act 1, Scene 2, Hamlet begins: "How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world!" In his pain, Hamlet begins to realize there is more to this existence than the devices that man has invented. He is stretched to find something more and better, and who but the most unlived people cannot relate to this sentiment?

In Act 1, Scene 5, after he has seen the ghost of his father (on the surface this is just another medieval "pagan" juxtaposition — Christianity teaches of an impassible divide between the living and the deceased. However, in its visualization of the powers we do not witness, Shakespeare serves us a safe window to that veiled world—a window that is restricted and inaccessible on our own) Hamlet tells Horatio, "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." Even so early in the play, Hamlet's understanding and willingness to look beyond the observable is already deepened. Later, in Act 2, Scene 2, Hamlet in his second soliloquy reflects on his own weakness, which normal—as well as abnormal—pride naturally inhibits. While depression is not necessary for healthy humility, in certain personages a dose of depressing reality is a welcome, character-building jolt.

At long last, once Hamlet knows all has come to an end—Ophelia and her father dead, the murder of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern on his head, his impending fencing match and the waning opportunity to set the kingdom right—he gains ground over his depression to a point of victory. I argue that Act 5, Scene 2 reveals the completion of Hamlet's character. Up until now, his musings and introspections have been building like some interlude to the high point in a symphony. And when Hamlet tells Horatio, "There is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come. The readiness is all. Since no man of aught he leaves knows, what is 't to leave betimes? Let be," he is reflecting that he has reached enough of an inward peace to do the duty set before him.

In his losing everything, the chains for Hamlet have been unshackled, the armor has been polished, and the resolve steeled. Nothing now is standing in the way to block the higher duty that he has to his people (which is altogether understated in the play, but would have been tacit in Elizabethan times. Modern readers scarce have an idea of the importance of the stewardship of a monarchy, whether handled fairly or abused). While Hamlet's depression delays him, the growth his soul undergoes in the fire of his grief leads him to be able, to be strong enough, to be moral enough, to be king enough to restore his people to rightness. While Claudius' evil and cowardice claimed the lives of too many, Hamlet's personal sacrifice in rising above the ultimately selfish nature of his depression—no matter how unfairly bestowed—leads him to make restitution and recognize an able leader for Denmark.

Thus, Hamlet is the perfect tragic character: his flaw is not inherent to his person but rather is circumstantial; and therefore his victory is that much more meaningful, more so than if by some pride he had cast himself headlong into that situation. In living more fully than other characters he comes to recognize he must set things right even at the expense of his life; in giving up his right to live he finds a victory that is beyond himself.

* The main problem with saying that any vengeance-themed medieval literature, such as Beowulf or Hamlet, is antithetical to Christianity is that this claim is based solely on an incomplete view of Christianity: usually relating to the New Testament. Both Beowulf and Hamlet draw very heavily upon the Old Testament foundations of justice and righteousness, foundations which are not abandoned in the New Testament, but recast into a new light. Granted, within the Church's perspective, the age of vengeance (pre-incarnate Christ) per se is past, with the present being an age of grace (post-incarnate Christ); however, Beowulf and Hamlet in representative nature are not discounting an age of justice (Return of Christ) to come, and most literary critics are. [back to text]

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