What is there to say about what could easily be considered the most famous play of all time – and one of the greatest plays of all time to boot?
Of all the Bard’s work, I think I have returned to Hamlet more than any other. This is in part because there are some really great film adaptations, and also because it was one of the first I was introduced to. (I think it was the fourth of Shakespeare’s that I ever read.) There are many moments I love and that I can never help but sit back in awe at the beauty of the language, the ideas, and the genius in this play. But the moment that I come back to again and again comes near the very end of the play.
It is the handful of lines that Hamlet exchanges with Horatio after receiving and accepting the challenge from the King and Laertes.
Hamlet is full of power and, for lack of a better word, noise. There is shouting and raging and fighting and angry vows of revenge and dramatic ghostly apparitions. The brief, private exchange between Hamlet and Horatio in Act 5 Scene 2 is different. There seems to me no other way to describe it than quiet. That alone makes it resonate with me, but the content is remarkably stunning, as well. In the exchange with Horatio, this is what our Prince of Denmark says:
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?
Hamlet’s fate is pretty well set from very early on in the play. Even without already knowing the story, we know there’s no way it ends well for him. We seem him rage against this at times. We see him doubt it and try to avoid it. But in this moment, he seems to calmly accept it. This quiet moment in context of the play is beautiful, but there’s so much more to say about it.
Hamlet seems to finally recognize and accept that the level of control we have is, in the grand scheme of things, very minimal. The power we have over events and consequences is negligible. But that doesn’t mean we should throw our hands up, refuse all accountability, and stop trying. I think this is what Hamlet is saying when he says “we defy augury.” He doesn’t mean we rage against it. We defy augury by living fully in spite of it. We defy augury by trying even when we know there’s nothing we can change. We defy augury by loving people we know will never return our love, by showing kindness that we know will never be repaid, by trying no matter how futile it seems.
The second part of what he says is essentially this: “When the fall is all that’s left, it matters a great deal.” Sometimes, we don’t get to choose to accept something. But we can always choose how to accept it: gracefully, petulantly, angrily. That much is always up to us.
Hamlet is often criticized for his inaction. But for me, it is in his moments of quiet, hesitation, or uncertainty that I learn the most from this Prince of Denmark.
Through all his flashes of insanity (real or fake), his raging, his strong vows to seek revenge, and his eventual dramatic demise (spoiler alert?), I find myself drawn to this brief, simple moment where we are quietly reminded that no matter what life has thrown at us, it is our choice to live well.
