Hamlet's Descent & Arc Toward Mercy: (Part 2) Labors of Gratitude and Regret in Hamlet

In last week’s post, I introduced Lewis Hyde’s idea of “The Labor of Gratitude” taken from a chapter by that name in his book, The Gift: Imagination and the Erotic Life of Property (1979). If you didn’t read that post or are unfamiliar with Hyde’s ideas in that chapter, I highly recommend reading the excerpts from his book that I included in that blog post.

For those who would like a brief summary:
Hyde speaks of gifts that are often not material gifts: Elves give a shoemaker and his wife the gift, or favor, of making shoes while they sleep, and this symbolizes the shoemaker’s developing skill or artistic gift for making fine shoes. But many other examples could apply: A child expresses an interest in learning to play a musical instrument, and a parent or relative supplies the needed funds as a gift so that the child might develop their musical gifts. A person who has offended someone and feels regret is forgiven by the offended party, and perhaps through the example and emotional support of that forgiveness, they learn to be more merciful and forgiving themselves.

When we look at Hamlet, we'll see that just about all of the gifts are not material but come in the form of favors, kind gestures of trust, expressions of love (sincere or insincere), offers of important (game-changing) information; they may seem insignificant, but in fact many things hinge upon them.

Hyde says that when we first receive a potentially life-transforming gift it’s not fully ours yet, but we feel its potential, and we feel gratitude for the gift that inspires us (consciously or unconsciously) to labor in gratitude to become more like the gift or the giver. The shoemaker becomes more expert in making shoes, like the elves. The child becomes better at playing their musical instrument or performing their favorite sport. The person who experiences forgiveness and mercy later becomes more merciful and forgiving toward others. And the labor of gratitude after receiving the gift is not fully complete until the recipient has given or passed on the gift themselves.

I mentioned toward the end that the debt of gratitude after the reception of a gift seems/feels similar to the indebtedness one feels after regretting something done that harms another: Our sense of indebtedness moves us to want to make things right, so we feel we owe the harmed party. So labors of gratitude and regret both recognize a debt owed to others, whereas entitlement and revenge take the attitude that others owe us something. In that way, gratitude and regret seem more generous and other-centered, whereas entitlement and revenge seem more selfish.

There is one more important dynamic about gifts that Hyde touches upon: He says that some gifts are better refused, either because they would tie us in bonds of gratitude to people or groups who might not have our best interests in mind (as in the case of a gift of drugs from a drug dealer who might want us to get hooked), or because becoming like the gift or giver would require becoming something we might be better avoiding (as in the case of the film, Avatar, touched on last week, where Jake is offered the gift of having his human legs restored so he can walk again, if only he agrees to participate in planetary genocide against an alien people he has befriended).

My overall impression of a great deal of criticism on Hamlet is that scholars often view characters too independently of their interactions with others. Hyde's ideas of gift exchange help me make sense of them more via their interactions and interdependencies.

This week I’d like to track some of these debts and transformations of gratitude and regret and their dynamics in Shakespeare’s Hamlet.

I will keep the following questions in mind as I explore particular characters and plot threads in today’s post on Prince Hamlet and in upcoming weeks regarding other characters:
1. Where in Hamlet do transformative gifts function best, with positive and life-affirming outcomes for the characters?
2. Where in the play are there good gifts offered and received that become sidetracked, with negative outcomes?
3. Where do characters labor with regret, successfully or unsuccessfully?
4. Where are there bad, unhealthy gifts, or gifts of some kind of mixed quality, that might have been better refused?
5. Where are freely given gifts (or gift economies) in the play opposed by market economies (purchase instead of gift)?

I won't presume I can provide an exhaustive list of all gifts given or received by Hamlet: These can include words or gestures, or happy (or unhappy) accidents, including the untimely death of his father and the arrival of the players. But in this post, I'll touch on some of the key dynamics of gifts, labors of gratitude, and regret, which seem to accompany Hamlet's development as a character, or "character arc."

So let’s dive in.

Prince Hamlet: Early Gifts
Hamlet’s character arc can be understood in terms of good or bad gifts he receives or refuses. Hamlet seems to be a kind young man who, in Act 1, Scene 2, would rather speak of mutual love and friendship with his friend Horatio and the sentries than have them speak of their duty to him as their lord and prince. Horatio refers to Hamlet as his “lord” and presents himself to Hamlet as “your servant ever,” but Hamlet would rather switch those names or titles. This echoes Jesus in the Christian gospels in their emphasis that if you would be first or a leader, you must be servant of all, and Jesus action in washing his disciples’ feet. We might observe that Hamlet has already done a labor of gratitude by internalizing certain gifts of his Christian heritage and many of its values. Some selfishness or entitlement that some princes may show has died in him, and he has “put on Christ,” become more Christ-like in his generosity and attitude of service toward Horatio and the sentinels.

Yet Hamlet is mourning the death of his father, and scandalized by his mother’s hasty marriage to his uncle, a marriage that in Shakespeare’s Elizabethan England would be considered legally and biblically incestuous. Hyde says that some gifts move in circles that are too small, such as when we only give gifts to close friends and relatives. Incestuous marriage and nepotism are problems in part because they can be a sign of powerful people hoarding their power too closely in limited social circles, and perhaps thereby being closed-minded, not open to fresh blood and new ideas.

Hamlet receives a gift from Horatio and the sentinels: They tell him, and not Claudius, that they have seen an apparition that seems to have been the ghost of King Hamlet. They love and trust Prince Hamlet more than they do Claudius, so their trust and friendship is a gift, as well as this information about the apparition. Hamlet arranges to keep watch with them that night, so he seems to be interested in exploring the potentially life-changing possibilities of this gift.

Dark Transformations for Hamlet
Hamlet keeps watch with them, sees the ghost, and goes off to speak with it alone, in spite of potential dangers. The ghost gives him helpful information—that Claudius poisoned him in his garden as he slept. But instead of being concerned mostly for the safety and well-being of his son, this seems to be a selfish ghost: It says that if Hamlet ever loved his father, he will avenge his death. This is an entitled sort of attitude, for after all, a son might have other ways of loving his father besides seeking revenge and risking his own life in the process.

The Ghost tells Hamlet, whatever you do, taint not your mind. But if one commits to a quest for revenge, isn’t one’s mind already tainted by vengeance? The Bible that would have been familiar to students at Wittenberg like Hamlet, and members of Shakespeare’s audience, bid people to be merciful and forgiving as God is merciful, and to leave vengeance to God. So this ghost that claims to be from purgatory seems to be a ghost tainted by vengeance, tainting the mind of his son.

We get the sense from stories Horatio tells of King Hamlet that he was strong and brave in battle, willing to fight Old Fortinbras in single combat instead of risking the lives of his soldiers in outright war with Norway. Hamlet seems to have inherited this gift from his father because after meeting with the ghost, he avoids endangering his friend Horatio and the others with the information he has gained from the ghost about how his father really died. He swears them to secrecy. This is not only for Hamlet’s sake, to avoid discovery and thwarting of his plans, but also for their sake. In fighting Old Fortinbras, King Hamlet was willing to brave the risks alone, so like father, like son. At least at first, the prince seems to want to accomplish revenge alone.

We see in some of Hamlet’s actions that the transformative gift of this encounter with his father’s ghost has, in fact, tainted him: He is harsh and mocking toward the meddling Polonius and his uncle, harsh and rude in his interactions with Ophelia, harsh with his mother in her closet, and he accidentally kills Polonius, who hid in his mother’s closet to eavesdrop on Hamlet and Gertrude’s conversation.

If gifts can transform us to become more like the gift or the giver, as Hyde says, then it seems Hamlet has become more angry, judgmental and vengeful like his father. Generally, Hamlet moves toward more bloodly thoughts by the time he kills Polonius and boards a ship to England: He commits himself that all his thoughts should be bloody or “nothing worth.”

Hamlet’s Later Harshness with Ophelia
Hamlet’s encounter with his father has also shown him what may happen to souls after death: They may suffer a horrible fate while their sins and imperfections are “burt and purg’d away.” Too many critics consider Hamlet’s rudeness to Ophelia independent of the Ghost, when in fact it can be understood better as a consequence of Hamlet’s encounter with the Ghost. Hamlet confesses his sinful and selfish inclinations to Ophelia (3.1), and asks her: “why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners?”

Hamlet tells her repeatedly to get “to a nunnery.” It’s true that “nunnery” was also slang for “brothel,” but too many post-Freudian readings focus more on “brothel” and hardly at all on nunnery as convent or abbey, a place where deposed queens and princesses might go for safety and asylum, a strategy mentioned in more than one of Shakespeare’s other plays.

We might note that, after meeting the ghost who claims he is from purgatory, Hamlet seems more afraid of living than willing to embrace it, warts, temptations, and all. If in the process of living one cannot fully avoid sin, then isn’t there another way to live, one that embraces life and joy? If one makes mistakes, can’t one seek reconciliation for sin? This is the piece that’s missing for Hamlet. The ghost of his father is more interested in judging others and seeking revenge than in encouraging his son to live fully and seek reconciliation.

But are there some sins, like murdering a king and brother and marrying his wife to gain the throne, sins of such a serious nature that they put the whole kingdom and its people at risk of further harm? If so, does Prince Hamlet have as much duty to root out such evil as he does to live fully and reconcile for his own sins? There’s the rub, the knife’s edge (or one of them) on which much of the play rests.

Hamlet’s Sea-Voyage Gifts & Transformation
During the sea voyage and afterward in the graveyard, Hamlet receives other transformative gifts: First, at sea, he finds the letter that Claudius sent with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, ordering Hamlet’s execution as soon as he lands in England. Hamlet's discovery of the letter's contents seems a bit like a gift of inspiration, like Jospeh, father of Jesus, being troubled in a dream that he should take Mary and the infant Jesus and leave the country, fleeing to Egypt. In the case of Hamlet, he is troubled at night, has difficulty sleeping, and seeks out the letters to read their contents. 

Hamlet changes the letter to say that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern should be executed, but he doesn’t know that they were unaware fo the contents of his letter. He is still thinking his bloody thoughts and acting vengefully, recklessly. Yet he feels Providence (God) has helped him discover and replace the letter.

Later a pirate ship gives their ship chase, and when the pirates come alongside his ship, he bravely leaps aboard to fight them off, still thinking his bloody thoughts. But the ships separate, he is taken captive, and remarkably, the pirates spare his life. Hamlet seems to believe that Providence (God), which he had felt was oppressing him with this quest for revenge, is now being merciful toward him and sparing his life. Pirates, who some might expect to be selfish and violent, turn out to be merciful as well. (BUT NOTE: This means that Hamlet really didn't save his own life by changing the letter on the ship, so that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern would be executed! It was the pirates [and "Providence"?] that saved him, not really his own "works" of forging a new execution letter!)

When someone or something spares your life, it’s always a gift: You would have been dead, but instead, your life is handed back to you as a gift. To a great extent, this merciful gift of providence wipes the slate relatively clean regarding Hamlet’s debts to his father, who no longers appears and of whom Hamlet very rarely speaks from the sea voyage until the end of the play.

So if the early acts of the play (to the end of 4.4)) were about a dark transfiguration of Hamlet where he moves toward more selfish, violent, and vengeful thoughts (which I blogged about previously), being saved by pirates on the sea voyage marks the beginning of a new labor of gratitude for Hamlet in which he will move toward mercy and be more at peace with whatever comes. If Hamlet is to become like the gift or the giver—like a generous providence and the mercy of pirates—we would expect to find in Hamlet an inclination toward mercy, perhaps evolving slowly, at least in fits and starts.

An idea popular in Shakespeare’s England and in Christianity in general is that Jesus was the first-born of many daughters and sons of God, and that through faith, others can become “adopted” sons and daughters of God. The symbolic drowning of baptism is accompanied by language about dying to self and rising anew in Christ, and the baptismal garment is accompanied by language of “putting on Christ,” trying to be charitable and merciful as he would be. Along these lines, Hamlet seems to find a new, adoptive father, not in Claudius, but in Providence, which saved him—with the help of merciful pirates—at sea in a manner that resembles the symbolic death and resurrection of the wayward prophet Jonah at sea (and which I have blogged about in the past).

But this idea of Providence is a sort of abstraction, an “airy nothing.” As Theseus says in MSND, poets give to airy nothings new habitations and names. Or in theological language we could ask, how might Shakespeare show this idea of Providence (God) manifest, incarnate, in a more concrete way? This is where the memory of Yorick comes in, and the clown-gravedigger who is one of Yorick’s kindred spirits. I have posted before on this blog about how the discovery of Yorick’s skull and the gravedigger’s figurative baptism by Yorick in Rhenish wine is a kind of reenactment of the gospel story of the disciples, who meet but do not recognize at first the appearance of Jesus on the road. The memory of Yorick is a redemptive one for Hamlet, who has not only been given a new labor of gratitude to become more like a merciful Providence, but now is also given a reminder of how Yorick played an important role in Hamlet’s life as a child, providing “infinite jest” and affection, like a surrogate father-figure, acting in young Hamlet’s life in ways his warrior-king father could not.

So Hamlet not only has a new (adoptive) father-figure in a merciful Providence, but is also given the gift of a memory of another positive father figure in his life, Yorick. Hamlet is shown that he has alternatives, other father figures to choose from.

With the help of Providence, pirates, a gravedigger-clown, and fond memories of Yorick, Hamlet is transformed in a new labor of gratitude.

Hamlet & Laertes at Ophelia's Grave
After witnessing Laertes melodramatically proclaim his love for his sister Ophelia at the grave, Hamlet seems offended and responds to Laertes as if it’s a contest of brotherly vs. romantic love. Hamlet seems to have internalized the bad gift of Claudius’ chiding him (1.2) for mourning too long:

HAMLET: What is he whose grief
Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sorrow
Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand
Like wonder-wounded hearers? This is I,
Hamlet the Dane.

Laertes responds basically by telling Hamlet to go to hell, but Hamlet displays more self-control:

LAERTES
The devil take thy soul!
(Grappling with him)

HAMLET
Thou pray'st not well.
I prithee, take thy fingers from my throat;
For, though I am not splenitive and rash,
Yet have I something in me dangerous,
Which let thy wiseness fear: hold off thy hand.

Laertes seems to want to blame Hamlet not only for his father’s death but for his sister’s as well. And while it’s true that, if only Hamlet had not been so mean to Ophelia, and so rash in assuming it was Claudius behind the arras, Ophelia might still be alive; yet it’s also true that if only Claudius had not killed his brother, and if only Polonius had not judged Hamlet’s intentions toward his daughter so harshly, and if only Polonius had not meddled by hiding behind the arras, Ophelia might not be dead. So Hamlet feels offended to be blamed for all of it, knowing that Claudius was the "first cause" (or "first mover") of this particular string of corruption:

HAMLET
Why I will fight with him upon this theme
Until my eyelids will no longer wag.

QUEEN GERTRUDE
O my son, what theme?

HAMLET
I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers
Could not, with all their quantity of love,
Make up my sum. What wilt thou do for her?

KING CLAUDIUS
O, he is mad, Laertes.

QUEEN GERTRUDE
For love of God, forbear him.

HAMLET
'Swounds, show me what thou'lt do:
Woo't weep? woo't fight? woo't fast? woo't tear thyself?
Woo't drink up eisel? eat a crocodile?
I'll do't. Dost thou come here to whine?
To outface me with leaping in her grave?
Be buried quick with her, and so will I:
And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw
Millions of acres on us, till our ground,
Singeing his pate against the burning zone,
Make Ossa like a wart! Nay, an thou'lt mouth,
I'll rant as well as thou.

QUEEN GERTRUDE
This is mere madness...

HAMLET
Hear you, sir;
What is the reason that you use me thus?
I loved you ever: but it is no matter;
Let Hercules himself do what he may,
The cat will mew and dog will have his day.

Although Hamlet is moving toward less bloody and vengeful thoughts, more toward self-control and peace, he still has in himself much of his warrior-father’s combativeness. Hamlet will soon regret his actions at the grave and show more empathy for Laertes’ point of view, responding to his mother’s request that he should reconcile with Laertes (or give him some gentle entertainment) before the duel.

Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are Doomed (by Hamlet? What's Up with That?)
As we approach the end of the play, we also see in Hamlet something similar to the way he acted in attempting to play God by sparing the life of Claudius at prayer until he could catch Claudius in some more sinful act: Hamlet in 5.2 recounts to Horatio how he changed the contents of Claudius’ letter so that, instead of England executing Hamlet, they will execute Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

The Hamlet who consigned these two to their deaths (and perhaps to hell—”no shriving time allowed”), is the Hamlet who has not yet been saved by Providence and the mercy of pirates. He is still thinking in bloody and judgmental ways, like the ghost of his father. Many critics are uncomfortable with Hamlet’s condemnation of his two former friends, in part because it seems they are unaware of the contents of Claudius’ letter condemning Hamlet to death, and in part because once Hamlet is taken captive by pirates, he is saved from death anyway.

But for one thing, Hamlet doesn’t know that he will be saved by the pirates and leave the boat. Also, Kings and judges are human and make mistakes, but in difficult situations, they are charged with protecting the safety of many citizens, not just a few. Hamlet either assumes (wrongly) that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern know the contents of the letter, or assumes that if he can’t know for certain, he has to act or it may cost him his life. If he changes the letter so that no one is condemned to death, he may find that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern were told of its contents, and if they all make it to England, they may divulge to England the original orders, and Hamlet may be executed anyway.

In times of widespread deceit, when even one’s former friends have been employed as spies, one must make difficult choices. Some critics complain that Hamlet waits too long to act; in stabbing the person behind the arras (Polonius) and in sending his former friends to their deaths, Hamlet is acting, and this results in more deaths.

After being saved by Providence via pirates, he slowly becomes more patient, trusting, and merciful, and perhaps this contributes to his vulnerability in the duel.

Hamlet's Regret for Laertes
In his talk with Horatio before the duel, Hamlet expresses his regret for how he interacted with Laertes at the grave:

HAMLET:
But I am very sorry, good Horatio,
That to Laertes I forgot myself;
For, by the image of my cause, I see
The portraiture of his: I'll court his favours.
But, sure, the bravery of his grief did put me
Into a towering passion.

Like his father and Old Fortinbras, Hamlet and Laertes have been “prick'd on by a most emulate pride” in their argument over Ophelia’s grave, but unlike King Hamlet and Old Fortinbras, Hamlet and Laertes will, in the end, reconcile. We might find in this some progress.

Quoting (and becoming more like) Merciful Providence
Early in 5.2, Hamlet strings together many quotes from scripture and seems to have found peace:

HAMLET:
Not a whit, we defy augury*: there's 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 has aught of what he
leaves, what is't to leave betimes? Let be.**

[ * defy attempts to foretell the future]
[ ** “Let be” is present in the Second Quarto, but not the First Folio.]

"Let be" is often assumed to be the words of Mary to the angel Gabriel at the Annunciation, and yes, at least it's close; but it's identical to the words of Jesus to John the Baptist at the River Jordan, when John protests that Jesus should be baptizing him, not the other way around. More importantly, these are stories of surrender to the will of God, who is the great "I am (who am)" - forms of "be." Modern productions and critics may prefer to overlook the extremely likely biblical allusions for lack of familiarity with the Bible-influenced culture of Shakespeare's time, but in fact it is very unlikely that when Shakespeare placed the words, "Let be" on Hamlet's lips, it was not meant to imply religious surrender to the heart of the mystery of life, to transcendence, to "God" or "Providence."

Inasmuch as scripture in Shakespeare’s culture was considered the Word of God, Hamlet's repeated quoting of scripture seems early evidence that he has become more like the merciful Providence that saved him. The gift of mercy from Providence and pirates, at least from Hamlet's point of view, seems to prepare him to be more merciful with Laertes and Fortinbras. He sees his own image in Laertes (they are both sons who lost fathers and are tempted to revenge), and perhaps also in Fortinbras, son of his father's enemy, to whom he gives his dying voice in the election of the next king of Denmark. If quoting scripture is early evidence, reconciling with Laertes and giving his dying voice to Fortinbras is even more concrete proof.

Conclusion
Hamlet receives many gifts, many of which he seems to internalize, gifts that change him for the better or for the worse. He receives the trust and confidence of Horatio and the sentinels, the affection of Ophelia, and various examples from his father: These include bravery and self-sacrifice, but also harsh judgment of others and a tendency toward revenge and violence. He received affection and the witness of infinite jest from Yorick. Hamlet believes he was saved at sea by the mercy of Providence and pirates, and after that point in the play, he seems to reject some aspects of his father’s harsh gifts in favor of the gift of mercy, and becomes more merciful.

Viewing characters through the lens of gift exchange shows us that we should not think of characters independent of other characters or of plot, but always in dynamic relationships of gift exchange, gift refusal, positive interactions, or negative ones accompanied by regret (and labors of regret as well as of gratitude). As my Buddhist friend says, "Everything is related." This is true, if only due at times to a refusal to relate, or to exchange, or to labor in gratitude or regret (these are still forms of relating).
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
NOTE ON THIS SERIES OF POSTS:

Hamlet quotes are taken from the Complete Moby(tm) Shakespeare at mit.edu.

This is the latest installment in a multi-part series examining how characters interact in Hamlet, offering opportunities, gifts, planting seeds for future inspiration, or for changes of heart & mind. It follows ideas from Lewis Hyde (“The Labor of Gratitude,” a chapter in his book, The Gift: Imagination and the Erotic Life of Property).

- The more I examine characters in this way, the more I realize how the major characters in Hamlet are dynamic characters who change, becoming better or worse in one way or another. This approach goes against the grain of a great deal of scholarship that seems to reify (or thing-ify) too many characters (as foil, as Oedipal, as Machiavellian, etc.) and view them as more static, rather than as dynamic, fluid, interacting. For an index of previous posts in this series, see below.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Index of other posts in this series:
https://pauladrianfried.blogspot.com/2024/09/index-character-arcs-labors-of.html
~~~~~~~~~~~~~


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
YOU CAN SUPPORT ME on a one-time "tip" basis on Ko-Fi:
https://ko-fi.com/pauladrianfried

IF YOU WOULD PREFER to support me on a REGULAR basis,
you may do so on Ko-Fi, or here on Patreon:
https://patreon.com/PaulAdrianFried
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Disclaimer: If and when I quote or paraphrase bible passages or mention religion in many of my blog posts, I do not intend to promote any religion over another, nor am I attempting to promote religious belief in general; only to explore how the Bible and religion influenced Shakespeare, his plays, and his age.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thanks for reading!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My current project is a book tentatively titled Hamlet’s Bible, about biblical allusions and plot echoes in Hamlet.

Below is a link to a list of some of my top posts (“greatest hits”), including a description of my book project (last item on the list):

https://pauladrianfried.blogspot.com/2019/12/top-20-hamlet-bible-posts.html

I post every week, so please visit as often as you like and consider FOLLOWING.
To find the FOLLOW button, go to the home page: https://pauladrianfried.blogspot.com/
see the = drop-down menu with three lines in the upper left.
From there you can click FOLLOW and see options.