hosting by

A Slice so Sweet
Or why I have not another tear to shed
By Rev. Pierce Pacey

To complicate this perception of Shakespeare’s obsession, it’s important to note his plays are riddled with a deep history of carrying revenge one step too far — to the point of pure tragedy. In Titus Andronicus, for example, the motivation for revenge fails to equal the extent of the character’s acts of vengeance. It’s as if the very concept of revenge takes on such a strong flavor, the bed of wrongdoing is forever lost in the characters’ minds. In one particular example, the mighty Titus loses his sorrow - gaining a newfound focus for revenge - glazing over when handed the heads of his sons, making plans for vengeance. Taking the wicked Aaron at his word, Titus delivered his own severed hand to the king as ransom for his sons’ lives; in return, he is betrayed more deeply than he ever thought possible:

Riding the wings of revenge to tragedy is by no means unique to Shakespeare. It’s unique to man ... a melding of the heart and mind, unmatched by any other emotion. The word revenge is evoked so often it’s taken on a much darker, sinister meaning, no longer paying homage to the tragedy that evokes the recoil, instead taking on a form all its own. It’s so powerful an idea, so deeply rooted in our history, that at least 16 British warships have borne the name "HMS Revenge" in the past 500 years. Wicked and diabolical it is, but is it really so sweet?

The word revenge came to fruition in English dialect in the early 1300s; but the concept of revenge is much older. The Greek God Nemesis is most often given credit for inventing the black art of turning the tables, with Machiavelli later refining the skills of malice to a fine point. Revenge is rooted in no less than a wicked, deep-seeded desire to enact a devastating repayment for crushed pride or loss. It manifests itself in rage, anxiety and serial concentration. It’s much more than a feeling; it’s a deep state of subconscious mania.

I think back to my most vengeance-ridden moments and few — if any — developed into full-force acts of revenge. Crushed pride? Yes. Loss of something greater? Not quite... As a child, I used to run bright shades of purple when someone picked on me, just waiting to explode with fists-a-flying. In one particular instance, feeling like a professional wrestler trapped in a 10-year-old’s body, I followed a man through JCPenney for more than 15 minutes, moving from one clothes rack to the next, staring in rage because he bumped into me and said "Watch it, kid." I was determined to burn a hole through his head with my piercing gaze, after which I’d knock him in the groin, followed by a swift pummeling. What was so sweet that I followed some man around a department store for 15 minutes?

Though we say it’s sweet, I beg to differ. It’s more an uncontrolled rush, brought on through a diabolical scheme of rage. Revenge is a needle in the arm, injecting a smooth stream of adrenaline to the deepest recesses of the mind. Revenge bubbles up on the surface, spilling over on the counter and wreaking havoc on its surroundings. Where a volcano often devours houses in a slow, agonizing process, revenge chooses to go for the jugular. Like a simple glass of water in the microwave, revenge boils instantly to a super hot frenzy. Revenge is not sweet; revenge is bittersweet. Revenge is pain masking itself as pleasure. Titus Andronicus never tasted the pie that so precisely encased the minced bodies of Tamora’s two wicked sons. Though fulfilling his vengeance, I doubt the flesh-ridden delight was anywhere close to being sweet.

No one walks away from revenge feeling entirely vindicated. The sensation is usually accompanied by a feeling of fear, regret, sadness or deep depression — sometimes an even greater rage is induced. What is so sweet about that? Revenge wreaks havoc on its host, demanding full attention, pulling its victim into a world of misery. Revenge is an orgasm of hate, leaving nothing more than a husk of what its host once was ... or ever hoped to be.

The ancient Greek civilization knew many truths about the individual and society. These ideas were encompassed in their plays - The Greek Tragedies. However much we understand and experience feelings of revenge, or are the recipient of vengeance, the Greeks felt they were an inevitable part of the human condition. Perhaps the acknowledgement of this sensation was the first step toward understanding the sensation of vengeance. Shakespeare no doubt understood this intricate interplay of human emotion.

If we took the time to understand so base a human reaction, perhaps we’d find a way to infuse a healthy dose of logic, dignity, scruples and peace into a situation reserved for malice. Perhaps the eye-for-an-eye tragedies of the Middle East would ease if revenge were not so deeply entwined in everyday thought, action and reaction. The concept seems simple in its logic, yet so very far from the heart.

Take an afternoon and read through Titus Andronicus, you’ll quickly see that with anything sweet, there is always a price to be paid. Eat up, you’ll regret it in the morning.