Revenge. It's a common thread in lots of stories, from the Greek Tragedies, to The Count of Monte Cristo, to Wuthering Heights, to True Grit. And, for some reason or other, the revenge-seeker seems to be the one who attracts some of our sympathy, whether (s)he be Electra, Heathcliff, Maddie Ross, or Anakin.
And this does not exactly seem to be a good thing. We all know that revenge is an evil, a pleasure in which it is forbidden to indulge, but we just can't help ourselves. The authors aren't much of a help either, often portraying the avengers as victims of previous wrongs, to be pitied, not condemned. And if this is so, Hamlet, a classic revenge story, would seem to be missing some merit.
Both Because "Hamlet" is such a classic and Hamlet is such a lovable character (despite, indeed, because of, his ambivalent revenge-desires), we ought not just reject the story out of hand as a tale not conducive to morality. If Shakespeare was a moral man, he would have been intelligent enough to be aware both that art has consequences and how to get the good moral consequences across most effectively. If Shakespeare was not a good man, we will never know, will we?
Whatever Mr. S might have been, Hamlet gives many signs of being a good man. At least twice in the play, he affirms his belief in Divine Providence. He is intensely interested in the slavation of his mother. He resists temptations to suicide. He is humble enough to make himself a fool in front of the entire court. He is a pleasant friend, someone we would feel attracted to regardless of his moral state. Most importantly, he is devoted to the commands of his father's ghost.
In fact, the actions of the ghost make one wonder whether or not Hamlet's desire to kill his uncle is actually an act of revenge. The ghost makes it clear that he is not a dammed spirit; the sufferings he describes are the pains of purgatory, land of saints, not hell, a claim that Hamlet later tests to the limits of both his ability and the aesthetic limits of the play (An awkward turtle would fit very well. Tuea Huea!). A purgatorial spirit would be unable to command or even request anyone to commit a sin. God, being the arbiter of life and death, may have (I think this is possible) ordained that Hamlet's uncle would die by assassination, and, through His ordinance give His keys of death and hades to Hamlet temporarily. Regardless of what God did, Hamlet seems convinced of the rightness of his cause, thus removing all moral responsibility of the death from him.
After taking the responsibility upon himself, Hamlet, spurred on by obedience, seems to grow spiritually. He begins to articulate his sufferings, especially his growing rightful disdain of the world, making us think that his sufferings have become more acute but that he knows what they are for. His madness is more true than the sanities of many people. His pledge of obedience has lent purpose to his life.
When true revenge begins to creep in upon his obedience, however, his plans begin to go astray. His not killing his uncle while his uncle is repentant of his sins opens up the possibility of the tragedies that follow. His giving into passion kills the wrong person. Though afterwards, he seems to desire to be merely obedient, the damage has been done, and the two moments of revenge and blindness end up being the death of nearly all the characters in the play.
In short, Hamlet is not a character constructed so that we sympathize with the vengeful. Rather, he is constructed so that we sympathize with obedience and see the evil consequences of revenge.
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