This is interesting as a status transaction. We have a prince talking to a captain in the army. The prince does not reveal his status to the captain but there’s a way wherein this line sort of makes the most sense as being a high status person attempting to lower his status.
If Hamlet were a peasant, it would seem less likely that he would humbly thank someone – the humbleness might be redundant in that case. A peasant doesn’t need to humbly thank anyone – any thank you is humble.
Hmm. Wealth and peace create an imposthume? An abscess? Or maybe – it’s like in the warm hospitable environment of wealth and peace, it becomes much more possible for a dark disease to grow. The way, say, a tropical island – so warm and wet can encourage a rot…but it is not the fault of the island, just the hospitality of the environment.
And in this case, Claudius is likely the disease that wealth and peace allows to multiply.
Lines like this call out the question of what Hamlet would have been like as a king, had he been given the chance. We think he would be a good one because he’s thoughtful and reflective and sees the absurdity of sending 2000 men to their deaths and wasting 20,000 ducats in the process. We think – this is the kind of leader who would keep us out of harm’s way, who would lead with compassion. But then – those leaders don’t often get remembered (or in our day and age, elected.) We do not necessarily value the philosophical leader. It’s almost as though we NEED them to be war-like and intractable so we have something to complain about.
Language is amazing. Have I said this before? I surely have. But – yes – garrison.
I hear garrison and I think of the name of a dorm where I went to college. I think of Garrison – which was surely named Garrison for some guy called Garrison, presumably some guy called Garrison who had a lot of money and gave it to the college. But that guy called Garrison had many relatives, also called Garrison, presumably…and the first one, the first Garrison was likely called Garrison due to his having something to do with a garrison or the act of garrisoning? Was the guard of a garrison called Garrison?
And here, this tiny worthless plot of land is garrisoned. It is defended before the Norwegians even show up.
And a year and a half after I wrote this post, I met a woman who asked me if I knew of a place called Garrison at my college. I said, absolutely. She said she knew Mr. Garrison when she was young and went to a ceremony to honor his name being put on a building at my college. Strange coincidental world.
Oh sweet Hamlet. We see how you failed to seize the throne. You clearly have no idea how leaders can be or what wars are fought over.
Claudius would know that “the Polack” would seize any opportunity to engage the Norwegian army – and Hamlet Sr. – who sledded the pole-ax/pollacks on the ice…he too knew the ways of war, I’d wager.
Hamlet, though, is a logical, intelligent, reflective man and sees this situation as a person would, not a politician or warrior.
We are a funny species. Fighting for things with no real value just because…
just for the statues, for the symbolism of the thing.
Animals fighting for worthless territory – Just the IDEA of territory.
I used to think I wanted to live and make theatre on a farm. I’m not sure why I thought I wanted to – I grew up in the country, I know how unromantic it can be. Yet somehow – with all the stories of Bread and Puppet Theatre or the letters from a theatre maker who worked on a small farm in France, I thought, “Oh! How picturesque! Theatre surrounded by goats and chickens!”
Then I went to visit that farm in France where they sometimes did Commedia dell’ Arte. It was dirty. So dirty. There were flies buzzing around the sticky face of the baby. The chickens came to peck at one’s feet when emerging from the car. It was hot and sticky and smelly. I didn’t even want to stay for tea, nevertheless forever. We hightailed it out of there so fast, we might have left skidmarks.
So, yeah, I wouldn’t pay 5 ducats to farm anywhere. I just ain’t a farmer.
This is one of those lines that gets pulled out every time some army goes to war over something no one understands. The Falkland Wars come to mind. And it is interesting that it is the captain that reveals this truth to Hamlet, not knowing of course, that he’s speaking to the Prince of Denmark. He speaks to him in the way of a friendly stranger at a bar, letting spill his secret thoughts about the silly job he has been tasked with.
It suggests that Hamlet does, indeed, have a way with people. It also suggests that people have been going to war for dumb reasons for centuries and of course those in the middle cannot be fooled.
I am such an American. I hear the word “frontier” and I picture the American West in Frontier Times – but with a Polish flavor. And because I grew up in the 80s, I have a very particular Eastern Bloc image of Poland. And so I put these two images together in this line and it’s, like, lots of blonde people in cowboy hats with little fur caps perched on top, leading horses in front of severe concrete architecture. It’s the Polish Frontier, Little Doggies. Yippee kay yay. (Polish cheers.) The Polish Frontier.
And why is it that Fortinbras is the nephews? Is he such a force that his single nephew-hood becomes plural? Is plurality a kind of respect? Or is it a punctuation error? – As in the nephew’s to old Norway. As in the nephew is to old Norway. Or a printing error and there should be no s there at all?
Or – is it that Fortinbras is really two brothers and they are collectively, the Fortinbras Bros.
it would be funny if there were two of them. And they’d kind of have to be twins. And it would be cool because when they came in at the end of the play, it’d be like, only two guys can take the place of Hamlet.
And, of course, only some editions have “nephews” others have “nephew.” What I need are copies of the folio and both quartos to get to the bottom of this!
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