‘Madness is key to this play, because, paradoxically, truth can emerge through it.’
Sir Philip Sidney asserted that ‘the principal purpose of tragedy is to teacheth the
uncertainty of the world.’ To some extent, it can be argued that madness within Hamlet
helps to lessen the ‘uncertainty’ of the play, enabling the emergence of certain truths:
Hamlet’s madness enables him to freely critique the court without immediate punishment,
and thus, informs audiences to the corrupt rule of Claudius and his associates; Ophelia’s
tragic lunacy alerts readers to her victimisation, and by consequence, the patriarchal
construct of Elsinore. However, an age-old debate remains as to whether Hamlet is truly
mad by the play’s end, a question which is impossible to conclusively answer. Thus, whilst
‘madness is key to this play’ and facilitates the disclosure of many truths, it too acts as a
source of great doubt.
Hamlet’s feigned lunacy exposes the reality of the ‘unweeded garden’ that is Denmark. In
Act 1 Scene 5, he adopts an ‘antic disposition’, which, as is argued by Kate Flint, ‘gives him
the licence of a fool to speak cruel truths.’ Flint’s argument perhaps found its origin in Act 2
Scene 2, wherein Hamlet proclaims that ‘[Polonius] art a fishmonger’, and thereby,
condemns him for almost prostituting Ophelia. Hamlet’s reasoning in labelling Polonius a
‘fishmonger’ appears justified, for he ‘looses’ his daughter to the prince in an attempt to
understand the ‘method’ in his madness, using Hamlet’s sexual attraction to Ophelia as a
means of doing so. Nevertheless, it is only in his lunacy that the prince is able to critique
Polonius’ mistreatment of his daughter, and thus, it can be said that his madness exposes
this unfortunate truth. Similarly, Claudius’ response to Hamlet’s madness reveals the reality
of his corrupt nature. Keith Sagar wrote that Claudius’ speaks ‘the language of a hypocrite
and villain’ throughout the play, and indeed, this is made especially apparent in Act 4 Scene
1. Here, Claudius proclaims his ‘love’ for Hamlet prevented him from admitting the prince’s
madness, and ‘like the owner of a foul disease,/ To keep it divulging, let it feed/ Even on the
pith of life.’ However, just two scenes later, Claudius’ hatred for Hamlet is made apparent
wherein he plots for his execution in England. The juxtaposition between Claudius’ outward
response to Hamlet’s lunacy, and his inward feelings, showcase his duplicitous character,
this perhaps completely negating G Wilson Knight’s praise of Claudius as a ‘good and gentle
king.’ Thus, madness becomes a device through which Shakespeare reveals the ‘rank’ moral
corruption within Denmark.
Ophelia’s lunacy becomes emblematic of the misogynistic construct of Elsinore. Unlike
Hamlet’s madness which remains a ‘hazard so near us as doth hourly grow’, Ophelia’s
insanity is viewed as a ‘turn to favour and prettiness’, which illustrates the court’s
perception of her as none other than a weak and ‘frail’ woman. Productions, especially
those of the 18th Century Augustan period, have fed into this portrayal through the
iconography of the romantic Ophelia: the white dress, flowing hair, feminine song, which
downplays the threat posed by her lunacy. Similarly, Hytner’s 2010 production saw Ruth
Negga undress to her bra in Ophelia’s mad scene, this perhaps being a dramaturgical
representation of arguments made by feminist critics such as Claire Johnstone, who
interprets Ophelia’s madness as ‘a complex expression of sexual frustration and social
helplessness.’ Indeed, her madness-induced death further informs audiences of her
victimisation. Shakespeare obscures the cause of Ophelia’s death in ambiguity, with
audiences, much like the Clown, left questioning if she sought ‘her own salvation.’ Whilst