Autonuptuals and Proximal Progeny

Ben Terdich

The idea of the self is an idea deeply rooted in our minds. Aided by the physical

separation of the mechanical components of life--organs, tissues and veins--humanity

collectively separates itself. We afford the dichotomy of individualism without even the thought

to hesitate. But the segregation of our bodies effects an unfortunate miscalculation: though our

hearts beat in different chests, our minds are quite connected in a very real, very alive web of

experience and being. Even without the spiritual, abstract, ubiquitous claim that we are all

together, the biological framework of the brain provides substance to this psychological,

concrete, important fact. When we hear about an event that happened to someone else, the

neurons firing in our brains are the exact same neurons which would fire if the event had

happened to ourselves. Simply, our emotions take no note of the origin of a joy or misfortune,

and feel the appropriate feeling whether we are the subject or not. Our physical brain controls

our own muscles. Our physical brain controls our own chemicals. But our empathetic brain is

the service to any origin of experience, making the tags of ‘internal’ and ‘external’ irrelevant.

With this knowledge, the act of empathy becomes a bit more beautiful, and living vicariously

becomes a lot more interesting. In addition, the internal motives and external interactions

between fictional characters gains a new dimension. Particularly in Shakespeare’s Macbeth, the

torrent created as external and internal forces merge in the collective psyche of the characters

gives rise to further understanding for Macbeth’s motives, and an enlightening literary union:

Macbeth and his Lady are two parts of the same character.

A reader of Macbeth may find himself frustrated with Macbeth’s relentless, too-thirsty

rampage. A reader may crave that humility tame Macbeth’s obsession with succession; why not

be satisfied with a monarchy supported by the prophecy of invulnerability? Yet Macbeth is

prophecized to be succeeded by children of Banquo’s blood. Only Banquo “shalt get kings”

(Shakespeare I.iii.70). Why should this relatively small addendum to an otherwise delightful
fortune bring Macbeth to murder Banquo and his kin? Vicarious living. Macbeth, like many men,

sees the inevitability of his death. However, he is consoled both for his own death and for his

own murderous guilt by the idea of his children living on as royalty. In a psychological analysis,

Dr. Sigmund Freud maintains that Macbeth is “not content with the satisfaction of his own

ambition. He wants to found a dynasty -- not to have murdered for the benefit of strangers”

(Freud). He must have the comfort of living through his unborn children to assuage his guilt and

distaste for death. He finds justification in it. Without this observation and without the

understanding that even his hypothetical, vicarious endeavor is as real as life itself, the choices

Macbeth makes are annoyingly avaricious and rather stupid. However, when the reader

understands that Macbeth murders in order to live through his children, light dawns on a wildly

fascinating truth: Macbeth finds relief from the guilt of murder by murdering others.

The notion of psychological unity also resolves another nonsensical scenario in

Macbeth. The relationship between Macbeth and his Lady give understanding to the troubling

abruptness of each character in isolation. Especially Lady Macbeth seems to be made of un-

human stuff, and behaves quite unexpectedly in the end. She barbarically says, talking of a

babe she milks:

“I would, while it was smiling in my face,

Have pluck'd my nipple from his boneless gums

And dashed the brains out, had I so sworn as you

Have done to this.”

(Shakespeare I.vii.64-67)

The inhumanity of such a claim makes the reader dubious of her literary integrity. It is even

difficult not to entertain the idea that Shakespeare made Lady Macbeth without humanity in a
careless manner to make the plot more interesting to the groundlings. And when, in the end, her

humanity clumsily exposes itself in a too-surprising contradiction to her early behavior.

Tormented by a damned spot on her hand and her conscious, she proclaims that "All / the

perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little / hand” (Shakespeare V.i.53-55). Though this

transformation certainly does not reek of plot-hole, it might make a dramaturge struggle to

maintain continuity of character. However, when remembering the psychological unity between

humans, it becomes necessary that Macbeth and Lady Macbeth are two parts of the same

character. Indeed, it seems Shakespeare has split Macbeth’s inner voices into two, and married

them still. He split Macbeth’s more careful and more carnal selves to accentuate the brief war

between them, the ease of the latter’s victory, and its final degradation. By splitting Macbeth’s

“milk of human kindness” from his poisonous instincts, Shakespeare gains the opportunity to

speak of these two entities (Shakespeare I.v.17). He says that instincts, fueled by desire, will

overcome kindness, and that instincts, the most primal part of the psyche, deteriorate first. Lady

Macbeth’s deterioration is the manifestation of guilt’s destruction. Instincts, being more powerful

but more vulnerable, are the first to fall to guilt--as is Lady Macbeth. And if Macbeth had lived

the external battle, all the same, his internal despair would have claimed him as well.

Macbeth is a play about avarice, ambition and degeneration--but not in the way it seems.

Macbeth seems to be a malleable man who will not stop until he has obtained every little thing

he desires. It seems this way because of his willingness to capitulate to his Lady’s demands,

and his slaughter of children for what seems to be a relatively small gain: throning his own

children. This Macbeth is not a redeeming character. He does not inspire empathy for or

investment in his character. However, this is not the Macbeth Shakespeare created. The false

sense of dichotomy between characters gives rise to these notions: that he concedes to an

external force and that his children’s throne is relatively unimportant. When the idea of collective

psychology is applied to the story, Lady Macbeth becomes Macbeth’s animal desires, and the

murder of children assuages Macbeth’s guilt by allowing the vicarious comfort provided by the
idea of dynasty. Through this application of knowledge, the story becomes infinitely richer.

Perhaps the same can be said for life; if we loosen the conviction that individuals are separate,

we may see many more dimensions to the human experience. And though our hour upon the

stage is still fretted full of sound and fury, perhaps collectively we might signify a bit more.

Freud, Sigmund. "Shakespeare: Macbeth - Freud on the Macbeths." Some Character-types Met

With In Psycho-analytical Work. 1916. Signet. Web. 21 Mar. 2011.