Blog # 16 Seng-Song (Hamlet Blog #4)

 

               Have you ever heard of Peter Seng? Well, either had I until eating my toast and poached eggs this morning. While reading the daily paper, I came across his criticism piece in The Chronicle. Upon further analysis, I found that he was analyzing the late Ophelia’s mental state. When first reading it, I hesitantly, but for the most part, agreed with his psychoanalysis of the girl.  But after a rereading, I picked up the more negative undertones and bashes Seng seemed to be throwing at both myself and Ophelia.  Yes, I admit that I probably didn’t always leave myself open to Ophelia to talk to, but I hadn’t “been avoiding her” like Seng repeatedly suggested. When talking about my reaction to Ophelia’s deranged song-singing, Seng asserts that “It is easy to imagine the Queen’s guilty start, her sudden dread…” Okay, first of all Mr. Seng-song, I had and still have absolutely no reason to feel guilty about Ophelia’s mental lapse. You blatantly assume, with hardly any evidence, that I am one of the people to blame for the girl’s insanity, when in all reality; you don’t even consider just how detrimental my son has been in her downfall.  Let’s be real, a teenage girl can only be plagued by one thing- love sickness. It was Hamlet that repeatedly told her, “to a nunnery go” (3.1.140) when she was seeking attention and advice.  He continued to harass her with his assertion that, “men know well enough what monster you make of them.” (3.1.131) How does that not sound like it would mentally crush the poor girl? When I heard she wanted to see me for advice, I compassionately exclaimed, “Let her come in.” (4.5.15) Therefore, when you, Seng, metaphorically suggest that “Denmark has become a prison” for Ophelia as well as for Hamlet, I hope you know that you are completely ignoring that fact that I have always been there for my constituents and my loved-ones. It can’t be a prison if there’s a mother figure opening her arms to hold you.

            When Seng finally begins to consider Hamlet as catalyst to Ophelia’s downfall, I definitely agree with his analysis of the irony in Ophelia’s song and how it adds to the pathos.  He says that, “the old song has its own inexorable logic, and the romantic fiction of its tragic story becomes the only reality Ophelia knows.” Yes, exactly.  Like I was saying before, the mind of a teenage girl is filled only with romance. I would know, I used to be one.  But then, Seng turns his attention to Ophelia’s family for blame. Once again, I totally disagree with his belief that anyone other than Hamlet can be held responsible.  Seng claims that “father and son are concerned to throw a lurid light across the relationship.” From afar, I can see how Seng could misinterpret their concern for Ophelia’s safety for something more harsh. But I know Polonius, and I have never seen a father with more love for his daughter. Seng characterizes Polonius’ advice to her as “bitter”, ingraining within Ophelia “the habit of mistrust.” When I overheard their conversation concerning Hamlet’s love for her, I only heard Polonius speaking wise and unbiased advice.  “I do know,” he says, “when the blood burns, how prodigal the soul lends the tongue vows.” (1.3.117) He wasn’t bombarding his daughter with feelings of mistrust and hate against Hamlet, but merely with the realities of the world.  Perhaps the most outrageous of all Seng’s assumptions is in his opinion that, “Polonius is only willing to sacrifice morals to political expediency; it is his spying […] that finally brings about his own death.” Oh Seng, what has Polonius ever done to you? The only reason Ophelia’s father would ever “sacrifice morals” as you say, is because he loves and cares for his daughter! When we both agreed that he should spy to learn Hamlet’s true intentions, Polonius clearly stated, “if circumstances lead me, I will find where truth is hid, though it were his indeed within the centre.” (2.2.156).  So, with all this considered, I tell you, Seng, that number one: I will never again read your column in the paper, for it gets me too worked up. And number two: There is no one but Hamlet to blame for Ophelia’s tragic downfall.  Wrongly assuming and accusing everyone else will only lead to more mistrust in the kingdom.