Justin Chen
English 129—Section 3
Professor Diana Paulin
11/5/99

Paper #3: Reason and Inaction in Shakespeare’s Hamlet

When he first learns that the perpetrator of his father’s “foul and most unnatural murder” is none other than his uncle, Claudius, Hamlet vows to his father’s ghost, “Thy commandment all alone shall live/ Within the book and volume of my brain,/ Unmix’d with baser matter” (I, v, 102-104 ). Despite this ardent vow to avenge his father’s death, however, Hamlet never actually takes action against his uncle until he is fatally wounded by Laertes at the end of the play. Indeed, much of the tension and drama in Hamlet stems from the seemingly irreconcilable conflict between Hamlet’s duty to avenge his father’s murder and his inherent inclination toward caution and rationality that prevent him from doing so. Throughout much of the play, Hamlet struggles with the notion that the very faculties that separate man from beast also lead to indecision, hesitation, and above all, cowardice. As Hamlet explores the relationship between man’s natural propensity toward logical thought and the inaction it engenders, he gradually realizes that at times, irrational but decisive action can be the most appropriate recourse.

Claudius introduces the thought-action struggle relatively early in the play when he tells Hamlet, “So far hath discretion fought with nature/ That we with wisest sorrow think on [the former King]/ Together with remembrance of ourselves” (I, ii, 5-7). In relating “discretion” to leaving thoughts of the former King behind, Claudius emphasizes the idea that the rational course of action involves moving on and thinking to the living rather than the dead. He later adds, “Fie, ‘tis… a fault to nature,/ To reason most absurd, whose common theme/ Is death of fathers” (I, ii, 101-104). Again, he argues that although the natural inclination is to continue to brood on the former King’s death, that desire must not be allowed to overcome logic and reason.

Hamlet’s mother, Gertrude, also reasons with her son, arguing, “Seek for thy noble father in the dust./ Though know’st ‘tis common: all that lives must die,/ Passing through nature to eternity” (I, ii, 71-73). Although Gertrude’s intent is to convince Hamlet that death is an inevitable natural process that should not be dwelt upon, her statement resonates strongly of a topic that Hamlet wrestles with in his final days, namely the mortality of man. Both Gertrude and Claudius’ arguments relate rational though to inaction, and they provide the first glimpse of Hamlet’s central inner conflict between his inclination toward rational restraint and his need to avenge his father.

Hamlet first contemplates the paradoxical nature of man after confronting Rosencrantz and Guildenstern about their motives for speaking with him. He states, “What a piece of work is a man,/ how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form/ and moving how express and admirable, in action/ how like angel,/ in apprehension how like a god:/ the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals—/ and yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?” (II, ii, 303-308). Hamlet abruptly truncates his list of humanity’s incredible gifts with an essentially bleak, perhaps even nihilistic, rhetorical question. His sentiments serve to highlight Hamlet’s growing perplexity with the dual nature of mankind. On the one hand, man is set apart from mere beasts by his ability to harness the formidable powers of intellect and reason. On the other, Hamlet realizes that ultimately, the very men that house those capabilities are nothing more than a “quintessence of dust,” a conglomeration of essentially fragile materials that will one day return to the earth from whence they came. Hamlet’s sentiments echo Gertrude’s and foreshadow the conclusions about mortality that Hamlet reaches near the end of the play. When Hamlet becomes embroiled in his plot to “catch the conscience of the King” he laments, “Why, what an ass am I! This is most brave,/ That I, the son of a dear father murder’d,/ Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell,/ Must like a whore unpack my heart with words/ And fall a-cursing like a very drab” (II, ii, 272). Hamlet expresses extreme frustration with his inability to take decisive action against Claudius, and acknowledges that his various plans to avenge his father’s death have amounted to virtually nothing. However, he still does not address the reasons behind his disturbing inability to act. In one of his most famous soliloquies, Hamlet admits that it is often fear of death that stifles action. He reasons, “Who would fardels bear,/ To grunt and sweat under a weary life,/ But that the dread of something after death,/ The undiscover’d country, from whose bourn/ No traveller returns, puzzles the will,/ And makes us rather bear those ills we have/ Than fly to others that we know not of?” (III, i, 76-82). Thus, Hamlet admits to himself that any action necessarily entails a certain degree of risk in terms of the unknown consequences that follow. This reference to the “undiscover’d country” is the reader’s first glimpse of the reasons behind Hamlet’s perpetual hesitation.

Hamlet finally address the rationality versus inaction conflict in the context of his own situation when he states, “Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,/ And thus the native hue of resolution/ Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought” (III, i, 83-85). This revealing insight into Hamlet’s psyche makes Hamlet’s inaction less baffling. His fear of the unknown consequences that result from action, represented by the “undiscover’d country,” prevents him from decisive vengeance against Claudius.

Despite his newfound realization, Hamlet still finds himself incapable of taking action. Now, however, he speculates that it is the flaw of “thinking too precisely on th’ event” (IV, iv, 41) that hinders him. A primary example is Hamlet’s decision to spare Claudius’ life when he is praying. When he first comes upon his uncle praying in solitude, he is filled with the desire to act, and he proclaims, “Now might I do it pat, now a is a-praying. And now I’ll do’t” (III, iii, 73-74). The stage directions even instruct Hamlet to draw his sword at this point in preparation for the murder, demonstrating that he has all but decided to avenge his father. However, he is immediately assailed by doubts. He reasons to himself, “And am I then reveng’d,/ To take him in the purging of his soul,/ When he is fit and season’d for his passage?/ No” (III, iii, 84-87), thereby convincing himself that he would in fact be helping Claudius by killing him in his hour of repentance. However, this logic is in fact incorrect, for as Claudius himself admits, “My words fly up, my thoughts remain below./ Words without thoughts never to heaven go” (III, iii, 97-98). Thus, Hamlet would actually have been justified in killing his unrepentant uncle. This episode is an example of how another aspect of intellect, thinking “too precisely” on an event, stymies his attempt at action. Indeed, Hamlet finally decides, “A thought which, quarter’d, hath but one part wisdom/ And ever three parts coward” (IV, iv, 33-43), implying that an excess of caution is representative not only of rationality, but more importantly, fear.

As the play approaches the climactic duel scene between Hamlet and Laertes, Hamlet contemplates the fragility and ultimate mortality of man. For instance, while conversing with Claudius he remarks, “Your fat king and your lean beggar is but variable service—two dishes, but to one table” (IV, iii, 23-24). Although Claudius dismisses this statement as the ramblings of a madman, Hamlet’s logic is actually quite significant, for it demonstrates his growing comprehension of the imminence and reality of death. When Hamlet ponders the actions of Fortinbras and his troops, he wonders, “How stand I then,/ That have a father kill’d, a mother stain’d,/ Excitements of my reason and my blood,/ And let all sleep, while to my shame I see/ The imminent death of twenty thousand men/ That, for a fantasy and trick of fame,/ Go to their graves like beds” (IV, iv, 56-62). Hamlet realizes that the Norwegian soldiers are destined to die for “a fantasy and trick of fame;” indeed, over “a little patch of ground/ That hath in it no profit but the name” (IV, iv, 18-19). The contrast between his own situation and the plight of the Norwegians stings Hamlet’s conscience, and he berates himself for not avenging his father’s death when he possesses such strong justifications, and indeed even obligations, for doing so. These thoughts lead him to declare, “O, from this time forth/ My thoughts be bloody or be nothing worth” (IV, iv, 65-66), marking a turning point in the play in terms of Hamlet’s attitude and comprehension of the thought-inaction paradox.

As Hamlet’s introspective journey progresses, his outlook on life grows yet bleaker. He speculates to Horatio in morbid fascination during the graveyard scene, “Why, may not that be the skull of/ a lawyer? Where be his quiddities now, his quillities,/ his cases, his tenures, and his tricks? … Hum, this fellow might be in’s/ time a great buyer of land, with his statutes, his/ recognizances, his fines, his double vouchers,/ his recoveries” (V, I, 96-98, 101-104). Hamlet’s juxtaposition of technical jargon alongside the various hypothetical occupations strengthens the blunt irony of the situation. After death, Hamlet argues, all the technicalities and details with which a man busied himself with during life are nothing more than “words, words, words” (II, ii, 192). Hamlet takes this line of reasoning a step further when he exclaims, “To what base uses we may return, Horatio! Alexander/ died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth/ to dust, the dust is earth, of earth we make loam, and/ why of that loam whereto he was converted might/ they not stop a beer-barrel?” (V, i, 196, 201-205). This bleak interpretation of mortality represents Hamlet’s recognition of the fact that although man does possess “godlike” apprehension and virtually “infinite faculties,” he is nevertheless susceptible to that great leveler, death. Indeed, Hamlet acknowledges the fact that he must act while he still can when he states, “The interim is mine./ And a man’s life’s no more than to say ‘one’” (V, ii, 73-74).

Conclusive evidence for Hamlet’s change of philosophy comes when he reasons, “Rashly—/ And prais’d be rashness for it: let us know/ Our indiscretion sometime serves us well/ When our deep plots do pall; and that they should learn us/ There’s a divinity that shapes our ends,/ Rough-hew them how we will” (V, ii, 6-11). He acknowledges that “rashness,” or action without previous planning, can be the most appropriate solution. In doing so, Hamlet demonstrates his understanding that the very ability to contemplate and rationalize one’s actions that sets man apart from beast should at times be subservient to the more natural, instinctive desire for action alluded to by Claudius and Gertrude at the beginning of the play.

Shakespeare’s Hamlet deals extensively with one man’s intellectual evolution from rational to rash intellectual. The two adjectives are not mutually exclusive, for Hamlet realizes that while man does possess remarkable powers of reasoning and logic, irrational action can at times be more appropriate than endless hesitation. Hamlet’s instructions to the players, “Suit the action to the word,/ the word to the action” (III, ii, 17-18), are also applicable to his own situation. As he gradually realizes that to act is to overcome fear of the “undiscovered country” that he so dreads, Hamlet learns what it means to truly suit his actions to his own words.