Does Hamlet & Ophelia’s Love Change Them? (Part 11) Labors of Gratitude and Regret in Hamlet

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). For more notes on the series and an index of previous posts in this series, see the end of this post.
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Does the mutual love Hamlet and Ophelia seem to share (at least before Hamlet’s father dies and Ophelia’s father forbids her to see him) make Hamlet a better person, more of a servant-prince, in love with a young woman who is not of royal blood, a Cinderella-type figure?

I think so.

After Hamlet experiences the other-worldly, terrifying, life-changing apparition of his father’s spirit (in hell or purgatory), does his fear of punishment in an afterlife and his love for Ophelia move him to tell her three times to get to a nunnery (to a nunnery go), and to ask, “why wouldst thou be a
breeder of sinners?” And does this warning to Ophelia change her?

I think so.

I know I may be swimming against the stream here: Many people love to be much more skeptical about Hamlet and the possibility of his good intentions, and often, I am with them. But for this post, I would like to explore something not merely skeptical, but also hopeful.

In his book, The Gift: Imagination and the Erotic Life of Property, in the chapter called “The Labor of Gratitude,” Lewis Hyde explains that when we receive a potentially life-changing gift, when we begin to recognize its potential, we feel gratitude and labor in that gratitude. The girl who receives a gift of a violin from grandma - after saying how much she enjoyed and misses hearing grandpa play, and how much she would love to learn - feels gratitude, and may come to labor in gratitude. The goal? To become like the gift or giver. To learn to play like grandpa, or like other good violinists.

The gift of love changes us, often in especially profound ways. Recipients of mutual love often become like one another in certain ways, good or bad, hopefully more good than bad, but we take what we get: Sometimes it’s Romeo & Juliet, sometimes it’s Mr. & Mrs. Macbeth.

This week I’d like to consider some ways that the gifts of Hamlet and Ophelia’s love for one another may have changed them, and perhaps making them more like one another than we sometimes realize. In particular, I’d like to consider where Hamlet got his tendency to act like a servant-prince, asking the guards and Horatio to speak of their mutual loves and friendship rather than their duty to him as their prince. Hamlet is obedient to his mother, Ophelia to her father, though each sometimes reluctantly. And there are parallels later as well, which seem not merely coincidental, regarding the condemnation of sin, a fate tied to water, and a new sense of parentage.

[L-R: Daisy Ridley & George MacKay (Ophelia, 2018); Ethan Hawke & Julia Stiles (Hamlet, 2000); Jude Law & Gugu Mbatha-Raw (Hamlet, 2009, directed by Michael Grandage, photo NPR); Mel Gibson & Helena Bonham Carter (Hamlet, 1990); Kenneth Branagh & Kate Winslet (Hamlet, 1996)]

A Mutual Love
Early in Shakespeare’s play, the prince and Ophelia seem to have been in love, or we might surmise that if we read the clues: Of Hamlet, we eventually hear samples from love letters and a love poem he wrote for Ophelia.

Of Ophelia, we learn from her father Polonius and brother Laertes that Ophelia has been seeing the prince. Polonius says to her,
'Tis told me, he hath very oft of late
Given private time to you; and you yourself
Have of your audience been most free and bounteous

If she didn’t like him, she would not be free and bounteous of her audience.

Polonius is against the relationship from the start, assuming the prince merely wishes to take advantage of his daughter - because Polonius was that way himself when young:
“I do know, / When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul /Lends the tongue vows….”
Polonius later realizes that he may have misjudged Hamlet and apologizes twice to Ophelia, but in 1.3, he objects strongly to Ophelia’s description of their love.

If we edit out dad’s sometimes cruel objections, we find Ophelia saying this in spite of her killjoy father’s strong objections:

OPHELIA
He hath, my lord, of late made many tenders
Of his affection to me. [....]
My lord, he hath importuned me with love
In honourable fashion. [....]
And hath given countenance to his speech, my lord,
With almost all the holy vows of heaven.

Many readers and audience members get too caught up, I think, in Polonius and his objections, and perhaps taking his side - believing that Hamlet is not to be trusted - before they have given Ophelia the benefit of the doubt. She says this much to her father, but she is arguing with him, so she doesn’t reveal much, except that Hamlet has made holy vows of heaven to her. Not all of them, but almost all of them. As I’ve said before, this sounds like Hamlet might be interested in marrying Ophelia.

Later (2.2) Polonius reads to Claudius and Gertrude some excerpts from Hamlet’s letters to Ophelia. If we edit out the other voices except for the text of Hamlet’s letters, here’s what we hear:

'To the celestial and my soul's idol, the most
beautified Ophelia,' [....]

'In her excellent white bosom, these...' [....]

'Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love.
'O dear Ophelia, I am ill at these numbers;
I have not art to reckon my groans: but that
I love thee best, O most best, believe it. Adieu.
'Thine evermore most dear lady, whilst
this machine is to him, HAMLET.'

Ophelia tells her father in 1.3 that Hamlet has expressed his love “In honourable fashion,” and if we trust that, we might think Hamlet is not a sexual predator-prince, not planning to use Ophelia and discard her, as Laertes and Polonius fear. If we read the love letter contents in a certain way, however, we might think they could be having sexual liaisons or that the playwright has written the lines in such a was so as to satisfy those members of the audience who would like to think it. But even so, this does not mean that Hamlet does not hope to marry Ophelia. We just don’t know for sure whether there’s a sexual relationship, or if Hamlet is, in fact, being honorable and hopes to marry Ophelia as his vows might seem to claim. These are mysteries from which we can’t finally pluck the heart and achieve certitude. Hamlet says in the letters that he loves her best, and she seems to believe his holy vows.

Tor Hamlet’s part, we have generous love letters and declarations of love.
For Ophelia’s part, we learn that she has “been most free and bounteous” and considers Hamlet’s expression of affection honorable, including “holy vows.”

In 5.1, Hamlet tells Laertes,
I loved Ophelia: forty thousand brothers
Could not, with all their quantity of love,
Make up my sum.

Skeptics who prefer to distrust Hamlet may not believe him, but I tend to think Hamlet is telling the truth and that we should view the entire play in light of this kind of love that he finally feels free to declare at her grave (and that he may not have felt free to declare when her father insisted she stop seeing him).

Lewis Hyde might observe that there are mutual gifts of love, from both sides of the relationship, and perhaps mutually felt gratitude. If things go well (or even if they go awry), we might expect to find that Hamlet and Ophelia become a bit more like the gift or giver. In fact, we may already see evidence of that.

Cinderella Love
We might note that Hamlet and Ophelia seem to have a Cinderella-like love: In fact, Ophelia says in her madness (4.5) that
“It is the false
steward, that stole his master's daughter”,
echoing a sub-plot of a Ben Jonson play, 'The Case Is Altered,' as noted by Peter R. Moore in 1994 (and as I've noted before). The basic idea is like that of the Cinderella plot: A false steward (like the selfish stepmother) steals the master’s daughter and makes her think she is not worthy of a marriage, when in fact she is worthy by her true parentage. This is also similar to the Jesus story: He seems to be the son of a carpenter, but in fact he is son of God, worthy of much more by his true parentage, no more merely a carpenter than Cinderella is merely a chimney sweeper or ash-cleaner (or so the catechism would have us believe).

We know that people in Shakespeare’s England were familiar with a variety of Cinderella-like tales, and in fact, the editors of the 2nd edition of the New Cambridge Shakespeare King Lear speak very explicitly about the rejected Cordelia as a Cinderella figure. We know that there was a French tale retold by Marie de France, called Le Fresne, or "Ash-Tree Girl" in the 12th Century, and Ben Jonson’s play gives more evidence of the basic trope. Forms of the tale had long circulated in many lands by Shakespeare's time.

Ophelia’s father, as an advisor to the king, is a kind of steward. And Polonius is at times false, a liar planting false tales about his son with the help of Reynaldo, and deceptively eavesdropping on Hamlet twice, once in the nunnery scene, and once in Gertrude’s closet.

As I have argued before, Laertes and Polonius both make Ophelia feel unworthy of a match with Hamlet. It’s as if Polonius is the wicked stepmother, and Laertes is the jealous sister. In 1.3, Ophelia's brother explains to her that Hamlet is not free to choose who he loves as less-important people do:

His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own;
For he himself is subject to his birth:
He may not, as unvalued persons do,
Carve for himself; for on his choice depends
The safety and health of this whole state;
And therefore must his choice be circumscribed
Unto the voice and yielding of that body
Whereof he is the head.

Polonius tells Claudius and Gertrude in 2.2 that he had told Ophelia,
Lord Hamlet is a prince out of thy star;
This must not be.

So for a prince to love someone like Ophelia, who is not of royal blood, is a kind of Cinderella love, as when the king gives a ball and invites all the eligible young women, and lets his son choose a wife for himself instead of forcing upon him an arranged marriage to secure a treaty, or to secure support from a family or faction in Denmark.

In the Hebrew and Christian scriptures of the Bible, there are admonitions to welcome the stranger, for sometimes angels supposedly visit in the form of a stranger. By this logic, a prince who is open to marrying a commoner or stranger is doing the right thing, open to new blood, new ideas. In theological language, to welcome the stranger or a spouse who is lowly of birth is to welcome the divine mystery that transcends our normal assumptions and expectations.

A circle of gifts that is generous to the stranger and the poor is a wide, transcendent circle that stretches beyond our knowing. A prince who marries a Cinderella broadens his vision and circle of gifts. This is the opposite of an “incestuous marriage” to the wife of a brother you kill. The marriage of Claudius to Gertrude is an example of a gift circle that is too small, that lusts after a brother’s wife, that has to murder the brother to marry his wife and rule his kingdom, instead of setting one’s vision on things more transcendent (like the “other fish in the sea”). The same could be said of Gertrude: Too small a circle of gifts, especially for a queen.

The Servant-Prince
What makes Hamlet seem like a servant-prince when we first see him greet Horatio, Marcellus and Bernardo? What are the elements in his life that may have planted the seeds of such humility and service, nurtured it, encouraged it?

Consider Hamlet’s first meeting with Horatio in 1.2, which I’ve blogged about before:

HORATIO
Hail to your lordship!

HAMLET
I am glad to see you well:
Horatio,--or I do forget myself.

HORATIO
The same, my lord, and your poor servant ever.

HAMLET
Sir, my good friend; I'll change that name with you….

Horatio presents himself as Hamlet’s poor servant, and calls Hamlet his “lordship” and “my lord,” but Hamlet says he wants to change that name ("poor servant") with Horatio.

We don’t see a similar eagerness to serve in Gertrude and Claudius, and we don’t hear of any such traits in the dead King Hamlet.

Perhaps Hamlet learned this spirit of service from his beloved court fool, Yorick?

Earlier, in 1.1, the previous scene, Horatio, Marcellus, and Bernardo see an apparition they believe is the ghost of King Hamlet, and after he appears twice and finally disappears at the breaking of dawn, Horatio says,
Let us impart what we have seen to-night
Unto young Hamlet; for, upon my life,
This spirit, dumb to us, will speak to him.
Do you consent we shall acquaint him with it,
As needful in our loves, fitting our duty?

Needful in our loves and fitting in our duty? They feel they have a duty to their prince, but they also love him, and Horatio considers him a friend. Perhaps Horatio affirms this spirit of service in the prince and helps him act upon it.

After they agree to watch again with Hamlet, they end with the following exchange:

All
Our duty to your honour.

HAMLET
Your loves, as mine to you: farewell.

Hamlet doesn’t want them to think they are only doing him their duty, but would prefer to emphasize their mutual love. This is quite remarkable, and nothing like what we hear from Gertrude and Claudius.

Hamlet later displays this spirit of service to the players in 2.2, requiring they be “well-bestowed” (given generous lodging) rather than merely lodging of a type that Polonius thinks they deserve.

As previously mentioned, it is possible that Yorick may have been a good example of service to Hamlet. The prince certainly has memories of Yorick’s generous affection and sense of humor (5.1). If Yorick was a man of “infinite jest,” or transcendent - god-like? - jest, maybe Hamlet felt humbled and gifted to be in the company of such a person, like a prince of fools/jesters/clowns. Feeling gifted, Lewis Hyde would observe, might make Hamlet feel a debt of gratitude that he labors to repay by becoming like the gift, putting his wit at the service of others, as Yorick did.

These experiences with Hamlet may have planted seeds of a spirit of service, and Hamlet's basic religious upbringing and studies in Wittenberg may have done so as well. In John’s gospel (Jn 13:1–17), Jesus washes the feet of the disciples at the last supper, and in the three synoptic gospels, Jesus tells the disciples that whoever would be great or a leader must be servant of all. So in that sense, Hamlet is being the sort of prince that *all* royalty should strive to be (but too often fail to be).

Cinderella and the Servant-Prince
Falling in love can change a person,. For Hamlet to fall in love with Ophelia, who is not of royal blood, and who her family assumes has no chance with him, might be a potentially life-changing experience for both of them. Though he is of royal blood and told of his advantages as such, his love for a so-called commoner may open his eyes to a more radically democratic vision, and may move him to be a better servant to others: To Ophelia, to Horatio, to soldiers and sentinels like Marcellus, Bernardo, and Francisco, and especially to others who share a similar humility and spirit of mutual service.

Although Claudius and Ophelia describe Prince Hamlet as popular among the people of Denmark, this trait in Hamlet of being a servant-prince is not explained, and we see no clear claims for its source, so we have to consider what we do see. Among the many possibilities in the heart of the play’s mystery, one is that Yorick plants seeds of affection, humor, and service; Horatio and others like Marcellus and Bernardo share and affirm in Hamlet that spirit of faithful service; but perhaps falling in love with Ophelia makes the importance of humility and service even more clear.

So that’s my working hypothesis on the source of Hamlet’s humility and service, on days when I prefer to consider the more hopeful aspects of the characters.

Repent Of Sin, Once-Beloved, Before It’s Too Late
Hamlet seems changed by his encounter with his father’s spirit, back from the grave, punished in some kind of purgatory or hell. Maybe it drives him a bit mad. It seems to make him want to warn Ophelia and Gertrude to avoid sin: He complains to Ophelia about how women paint their faces and flirt, and tells her to get to a nunnery so as not to be a “breeder of sinners.” It’s true that “nunnery” was also slang for a brothel, but women don’t go to a brothel to avoid breeding sinners, so we might assume that the word-play in the double meaning was more to entertain the early audiences than to suggest he’s sending Ophelia to a brothel.

Hamlet similarly warns Gertrude to repent of whatever lust seems to have driven her to accept marriage to Claudius.

In other words, he issues strong warnings to the two women he values most because he doesn’t want them to experience the suffering of hell or purgatory. Imagine that. Deep down, even in the scolding he offers, Hamlet might be trying to be a nice guy.

We may observe that being frightened by the ghost has made Hamlet lose the simple joy of living, of being in love, of perhaps marrying and starting a family. To that extent, perhaps Hamlet has in fact gone too far, gone a bit mad. But being so terrified by the ghost and the idea of other-worldly punishment in an afterlife, it’s also quite logical that Hamlet acts the way he does.

Ophelia: A Match Who Gives Back Some Of The Grief She Gets
In 1.3, we see Laertes warn his sister to guard her chastity and to fear Hamlet, but Ophelia seems to say, “Right back at you, bro.” She insists to him that he should not preach that way to her and then go off to France and be a hypocrite:

I shall the effect of this good lesson keep,
As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother,
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;
Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
And recks not his own rede.

Ophelia shows spunk here. If her brother and father were not so harsh and unsupportive, she might have blossomed into love and stabbed Claudius herself in the end.

Some critics assume that Ophelia is weak, especially in the face of her father and of Hamlet, scolding her and telling her to get to a nunnery. But I think we might also read her in a different way: she is certainly frightened by the changes that come over Hamlet after (unknown to her) he has spoken at length with his father’s ghost (or a demon disguised as such). But she slowly changes.

She starts out meek in the mousetrap scene (3.2):

HAMLET
Lady, shall I lie in your lap?
[Lying down at OPHELIA's feet]

OPHELIA
No, my lord.

HAMLET
I mean, my head upon your lap?

OPHELIA
Ay, my lord.

HAMLET
Do you think I meant country matters?

OPHELIA
I think nothing, my lord.

HAMLET
That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs.

OPHELIA
What is, my lord?

HAMLET
Nothing.

OPHELIA
You are merry, my lord.

HAMLET
Who, I?

OPHELIA
Ay, my lord.

“Nothing” was slang in Shakespeare’s time for women’s genitals. Hamlet easily seems to have the upper hand here, and Ophelia seems intimidated by her former love and still-prince. (Unless Ophelia delivers her line, "I think nothing, my lord" in a way that indicates that she knows what he is thinking!) But this slowly changes. After the dumb show in 3.2, Ophelia asks:

OPHELIA
What means this, my lord?

HAMLET
Marry, this is miching mallecho; it means mischief.

OPHELIA
Belike this show imports the argument of the play.
[Enter Prologue]

In fact, Hamlet is being witty but not answering her question, so Ophelia answers it herself. Good for her. She wanted a straight answer to a straight question, so if he won’t provide it, she tosses it at him. This shows a bit more spunk, Ophelia here being less intimidated by the prince.

HAMLET
We shall know by this fellow: the players cannot
keep counsel; they'll tell all.

OPHELIA
Will he tell us what this show meant?

HAMLET
Ay, or any show that you'll show him: be not you
ashamed to show, he'll not shame to tell you what it means.

OPHELIA
You are naught, you are naught: I'll mark the play.

Here we see Ophelia deciding she has had enough and will push back. Hamlet is being naughty, perhaps suggesting that Ophelia not be ashamed to show some skin, undressing, and be told what it meant. Instead of listening to him, she'll mark the play.

Later in the same scene, we see a bit more push-back from Ophelia:

KING CLAUDIUS
What do you call the play?

HAMLET
The Mouse-trap. Marry, how? Tropically. This play
is the image of a murder done in Vienna: Gonzago is
the duke's name; his wife, Baptista: you shall see
anon; 'tis a knavish piece of work: but what o'
that? your majesty and we that have free souls, it
touches us not: let the galled jade wince, our
withers are unwrung.

[Enter LUCIANUS]

This is one Lucianus, nephew to the king.

OPHELIA
You are as good as a chorus, my lord.

HAMLET
I could interpret between you and your love, if I
could see the puppets dallying.

OPHELIA
You are keen, my lord, you are keen.

HAMLET
It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge.

OPHELIA
Still better, and worse.

HAMLET
So you must take your husbands.

Ophelia is right: Hamlet is “as good as a chorus,” an outdated dramatic device by which a group of players would comment on the events and import of a scene. But Hamlet wants to be witty and bawdy: “I could interpret between you and your love, if I / could see the puppets dallying.” He seems to be thinking of puppets acting out the motions of making love.

Ophelia’s response that Hamlet is “keen” could be interpreted as sharp, as in witty, or pointy as in an erection. Hamlet replies, “It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge.” The groaning would be of sexual pleasure, to take off his edge.

“Still better, and worse” seems to say his jokes are getting even better, but even dirtier. It also refers to and anticipates Hamlet’s comment about how women take their husbands “for better and for worse.” Hamlet uses the plural, "husbands," because his mother has lost one husband and quickly taken another, and a scandalous one, the brother of her first; so Hamlet seems to assume Ophelia will be like his mother, like the mad fool he is, especially in the middle of the play.

Hamlet started this banter with Ophelia being witty and making dirty jokes, and one way (one out of many) of playing this scene would be to have her begin to respond in kind. But instead of Ophelia being a stereotypical prude, it is Hamlet who is being the difficult shrew, while Ophelia is being the more rational and civilized human being. Hamlet starts playing a game, and Ophelia eventually begins to counter him at his own game. We watch as she becomes braver.

Men: Keep Your Damned Promises When You Tumble Women & Promise To Wed Them
We have seen Hamlet in the nunnery scene, scolding Ophelia as a representative of all women who are tempting in any way to men. Hamlet blames women for sin, like Adam stupidly blaming Eve for the fall instead of accepting mutual responsibility. Later, in 4.5, we hear the supposedly mad Ophelia sing a song with what seems a very sane and legitimate complaint, except for the fact that she is doing so before the King and Queen, whose nephew/son made to her “almost all the holy vows of heaven”:

OPHELIA
By Gis and by Saint Charity,
Alack, and fie for shame!
Young men will do't, if they come to't;
By cock, they are to blame.
Quoth she, before you tumbled me,
You promised me to wed.
So would I ha' done, by yonder sun,
An thou hadst not come to my bed.

Like Hamlet who railed on about the faults of women, Ophelia is now railing on, justifiably, about the faults of men. She has become like Hamlet in this way, a prophetic voice crying out against the sins of the opposite gender, and she’s also turned the tables on Hamlet's raging against women.

Finding True Parentage & Regret
I have mentioned before some of the many parallels between Hamlet and Ophelia:
Hamlet seems to find alternative father figures in a merciful Providence who works through pirates, and in the memory of an affectionate Yorick.
Ophelia’s remark that
“It is the false
steward, that stole his master's daughter”
hints at the possibility that she realizes her father was a false steward, to make her feel unworthy, but that she belongs to “the master,” a term often used in reference to Jesus in the gospels. Maybe she has found a heavenly father, like Hamlet's merciful Providence.

Hamlet apologizes to Laertes in the last scene of the play (5.1), proclaiming, “Give me your pardon, sir: I've done you wrong; [....] / I have shot mine arrow o'er the house,/ And hurt my brother.” And Ophelia, too, seems to imply regret and sorrow in her remark about the owl: “They say the owl was a baker’s daughter.” As I’ve said before on this blog, the story of the baker’s daughter who is visited by Jesus or a supernatural being, but who is ungenerous, resembles the gospel tale, “The Rich Man & Lazarus.” In Ophelia’s mind, it would seem she regrets being ungenerous to Hamlet in his need, so she is being punished like the ungenerous rich man. Repentance requires contrition or regret for harm caused, and both Hamlet and Ophelia seem to display it.

Taking To Water, Moving Toward Death
Hamlet goes on a sea voyage, not knowing at first that Rosencrantz & Guildenstern
carry orders for his death in England. They encounter a pirate ship that chases them, and when the pirate ship comes alongside theirs, Hamlet bravely boards it to fight them off, only to be outnumbered and captured when the ships separate. It seems appropriate that Hamlet’s Jonah-like sea-voyage is like a baptism in death. But the pirates spare his life (and hand it back to him like a gift), “like thieves of mercy” (4.6).

Ophelia moves toward water, or at least over water, on a willow branch over a brook, perhaps bravely, or lacking fear. When she falls in and drowns, there are no pirates like thieves of mercy to save her, but Gertrude tells the story of her death (4.7) in such a way to save her from blame for suicide and to leave her death at least ambiguous, that perhaps it was the fault of the breaking branch and the water, and she did not intend her death but merely accepted it, like Hamlet’s “Let be,” and “The readiness is all” (5.2).

So for all of these similarities and exchanges between Hamlet and Ophelia of gifts, good and bad, it would seem that (as I have said before) Hamlet and Ophelia “become something like two in one flesh, members of a shared social/spiritual body.”

Still Swimming Against the Current
I know that a great deal of Shakespeare scholarship and commentary tends to go in other directions, finding more weaknesses and chaos in both Ophelia and Hamlet. But given that the play is so ambiguous about so many things, I believe (at least today!) that this reading I’ve offered is believable one that takes what we are given in the text and makes an acceptable kind of sense of things. I don’t expect that mine is the only answer, or that I can pluck the heart from the play’s mystery.

This reading I’ve offered is not about a strange and overpowering grace from heaven that breaks through storm clouds and heals people. Instead, it’s about a kind of grace that works through flawed people who interact, and in those interactions, offer one another gifts, feedback, encouragement, scolding, empathy, kindness, regret, mercy, and acceptance. If there’s a God at work in Shakespeare’s Hamlet, it seems to be a God who is quite incarnate in the lives of sentinels, friends, mothers, pirates, people who are not of royal blood, and a few who are.


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Continued Next Week
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NOTE ON THIS SERIES OF POSTS:

Hamlet quotes are taken from the Complete Moby(tm) Shakespeare at mit.edu, not for any preference in a particular version or editor, but for simplicity & accessibility.

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