Home Random Page


CATEGORIES:

BiologyChemistryConstructionCultureEcologyEconomyElectronicsFinanceGeographyHistoryInformaticsLawMathematicsMechanicsMedicineOtherPedagogyPhilosophyPhysicsPolicyPsychologySociologySportTourism






TABLE DES SÉANCES 41 page

    1. Stanley Hall: Adolescence, 1908, Vol. I, p. 358.
    2. Bernard Shaw: Man and Superman, 1903, p. 94.

The second matter, on which there is also much misunderstanding, is that of the attitude of a child towards the subject of death, it being commonly assumed that this is necessarily the same as that of an adult. When a child first hears of any one's death, the only part of its meaning that he realises is that the person is no longer there,[1] a consummation which in many cases he fervently desires. It is only gradually that the more dread implications of the phenomenon are borne in upon him. When, therefore, a child expresses the wish that a given person, even a near relative, would die, our feelings would not be so shocked as in fact they are, were we to interpret this wish from the point of view of the child. The same remark applies to the frequent dreams of adults in which the death of a near and dear relative takes place, for the wish here expressed is in most cases a long forgotten one, and no longer directly operative.

Of the infantile jealousies the one with which we are here occupied is that experienced by a boy towards his father. The precise form of early relationship between child and father is in general a matter of vast importance in both sexes, and plays a predominating part in the future development of the child's character; this theme has been brilliantly expounded by Jung[2] in a recent essay. The only point that at present concerns us is the resentment felt by a boy towards his father when the latter disturbs his enjoyment of his mother's affection. This feeling, which occurs frequently enough, is the deepest source of the world-old conflict between father and son, between the young and old, the favourite theme of so many poets and writers. The fundamental importance that this conflict, and the accompanying breaking away of the child from the authority of his parents, has both for the individual and for society is clearly stated in the following passage of Freud's:[3] "The detachment of the growing individual from the authority of the parents is one of the most necessary, but also one of the most painful, achievements of development. It is absolutely necessary for it to be carried out, and we may assume that every normal human has to a certain extent managed to achieve it. Indeed, the progress of society depends in general on this opposition of the two generations."

    1. See Freud: Traumdeutung, 1900, S. 175.
    2. Jung: Die Bedeutung des Vaters für das Schicksal des Einzelnen. Jahrbuch f. psychoanalytische u. psychopathologische Forschungen. 1909, Bd. I, Ie Hälfte.
    3. Personal communication quoted by Rank, Der Mythus von der Geburt des Helden, 1909, S. 64.

That the conflict in question rests in the last resort on sexual grounds was first demonstrated by Freud,[1] when dealing with the subject of the earliest manifestations of the sexual instinct in children. He has shewn[2] that this instinct does not, as is generally supposed, differ from other biological functions by suddenly leaping into being at the age of puberty in all its full and developed activity, but that like other functions it undergoes a gradual evolution and only slowly attains the form in which we know it in the adult. In other words a child has to learn how to love just as it has to learn how to run, although the former function is so much intricate and delicate in its adjustment than the latter that the development of it is a correspondingly slower and more involved process. The earliest sexual manifestations are so palpably non-adapted to what is generally considered the ultimate aim and object of the function, and are so general and tentative in contrast to the relative precision of the later manifestations, that the sexual nature of them is commonly not recognised at all. This theme, important as it is, cannot be further pursued here, but it must mentioned how frequently these earliest dim awakenings are evoked by the intimate physical relations existing between the child and the persons of his immediate environment, above all, therefore, his parents. As Freud has put it, "The mother is the first seductress of her boy." There is a great variability in both the date and the intensity of the early sexual manifestations, a fact that depends partly on the boy's constitution and partly on the mother's. When the attraction exercised by the mother is excessive it may exert a controlling influence over the boy's later destiny. Of the various results that may be caused by the complicated interaction between this and other influences only one or two need be mentioned. If the awakened passion undergoes but little "repression" – an event most fequent when the mother is a widow – then the boy may remain throughout life abnormally attached to his mother and unable to love any other woman, a not uncommon cause of bachelorhood. He may be gradually weaned from this attachment, if it less strong, though it often happens



    1. Freud: Traumdeutung, 1900, S. 176-180. He has strikingly illustrated the subject in a recent detailed study, "Analyse der Phobie eines fünfjährigen Knabes." Jahrbuch f. psychoanalytische u. psychopathologische Forschungen, 1909, Bd. I, Ie Hälfte.
    2. Freud: Drei Abhandlungen zur Sexualtheorie, 1905.

that the weaning is incomplete so that he is able to fall in love only with women that resemble the mother; the latter occurrence is a frequent cause of marriage between relatives, as has been interestingly pointed out by Abraham.[1] The maternal influence may also manifest itself by imparting a strikingly tender feminine side to the later character.[2] When the aroused feeling is intensely "repressed" and associated with shame, guilt, etc., the memory of it may be so completely submerged that it becomes impossible not only to revive it but even to experience any similar feeling, i.e., of attraction for the opposite sex. This may declare itself in pronounced misogyny, or even, when combined with other factors, in actual homosexuality, as Sadger[3] has shewn.

The attitude towards the successful rival, namely the father, also varies with the extent to which the aroused feelings have been "repressed." If this is only slight, then the natural resentment against the father may later on be more or less openly manifested, a rebellion which occurs commonly enough, though the original source of it is not recognised. To this source many social revolutionaries owe the original impetus of their rebellion against authority, as can often be plainly traced – for instance in Shelley's case. If the "repression" is more intense, then the hostility towards the father is also concealed; this is usually brought about by the development of the opposite sentiment, namely of an exaggerated regard and respect for him, and a morbid solicitude for his welfare, which completely cover the true underlying relation. The illustration of the attitude of son to parent is so transpicuous in the Oedipus legend,[4] as developed for instance in Sophocles' tragedy, that the group of mental processes concerned is generally known under the name of "Oedipus-complex."

    1. Abraham: Verwandtenehe und Neurose. Berl. Gesell. f. Psychiatr. u. Nervenkrankh, Nov. 8, 1908. Neurolog. Centralbl., 1908, S. 1150.
    2. This trait in Hamlet's character has often been the subject of com- ment. See especially Bodenstedt, Hamlet. Westermann's illustrierte Monatshefte, 1865; we mentioned above Vining's suggestion that Hamlet was really a woman. That the same trait was prominent in Shakespeare himself is well known, a fact which the appellation of "gentle Will" sufficiently recalls.
    3. Sadger: Fragment der Psychoanalyse eines Homosexuellen. Jahrbuch f. sex. Zwischenstufen, 1908, Bd. IX. Ist die Kontäre Sexualempfindung heilbar? Zeitschr. f. Sexualwissenschaft, Dez., 1908. Zur ätiologie der konträren Sexualempfindung. Mediz. Klinik, 1909. Nr. 2.
    4. See Freud: Traumdeutung, 1900, S. 181. Interesting expositions of the mythological aspects of the subject are given by Abraham, Traum und Mythus, 1909, and Rank, Op. cit.

We are now in a position to expand and complete the suggestions offered above in connection with the Hamlet problem.[1] The story thus interpreted would run somewhat as follows: As a child Hamlet had experienced the warmest affection for his mother, and this, as is always the case, had contained elements of a more or less dimly defined erotic quality. The presence of two traits in the Queen's character go to corroborate this assumption, namely her markedly sensual nature, and her passionate fondness for her son. The former is indicated in too many places in the play to need specific reference, and is generally recognised. The latter is equally manifest; as Claudius says (Act IV, Sc. 7, l. 11), "The Queen his mother lives almost by his looks." Hamlet seems, however, to have with more or less success weaned himself from her, and to have fallen in love with Ophelia. The precise nature of his original feeling for Ophelia is a little obscure. We may assume that at least in part it was composed of a normal love for a prospective bride, but there are indications that even here the influence of the old attraction for his mother is still exerting itself. Although some writers, following Goethe,[2] see in Ophelia many traits of resemblance to the Queen, surely more striking are the traits contrasting with those of the Queen. Whatever truth there may be in the many German conceptions of Ophelia as a sensual wanton[3] – misconceptions that have been adequately disproved by Loening[4] and others – still the very fact that it needed what Goethe happily called the "innocence of insanity" to reveal the presence of any such libidinous thoughts in itself demonstrates the modesty and chasteness of her habitual demeanour. Her naïve piety, her obedient resignation and her unreflecting simplicity sharply contrast with the Queen's character, and seems to indicate that Hamlet by a characteristic reaction towards the opposite extreme had unknowingly been impelled to choose a woman who would least remind him of his mother. A case might further be made out for the view that part of Hamlet's courtship of Ophelia originated not so much in direct attraction for her as in a half-conscious desire to play her off against his mother, just as a disappointed and piqued lover is so often thrown into the arms of a more willing rival. When in the play scene he replies to his mother's request to sit by her with the words, "No, good mother, here's metal more attractive," and proceeds to lie at Ophelia's feet, we seem to have a direct indication of this attitude, and his coarse familiarity and bandying of ambiguous jests are hardly intelligible unless we bear in mind that they were carried out under the heedful gaze of the Queen. It is as though Hamlet is unconsciously expressing to her the following thought: "You give yourself to other men whom you prefer to me. Let me assure you that I can dispense with your favours, and indeed prefer those of a different type of woman."

    1. Here, as throughout the essay, I closely follow Freud's interpretation given in the footnote previously referred to. He there points out the inadequacy of the earlier explanations, deals with Hamlet's feelings toward his mother, father and uncle, and mentions two other matters that will presently be discussed, the significance of Hamlet's reaction against Ophelia and of the fact that the play was written immediately after the death of Shakespeare's father.
    2. Goethe: Wilhelm Meister, IV, 14. "Her whole being hovers in ripe, sweet voluptuousness." "Her fancy is moved, her quiet modesty breathes loving desire, and should the gentle Goddess Opportunity shake the tree the fruit would at once fall."
    3. Storffrich: Psychologische Aufschüsse über Shakespeare's Hamlet, 1859, S. 131; Dietrich, Op. cit., S. 129; Tieck: Dramaturgische Blätter, II, S. 85, etc.
    4. Loening: Op. cit., Cap. XIII. Charakter und Liebe Ophelias.

Now comes the father's death and the mother's second marriage. The long "repressed" desire to take his father's place in his mother's affection is stimulated to unconscious activity by the sight of some one usurping this place exactly as he himself had once longed to do. More, this someone was a member of the same family, so that the actual usurpation further resembled the imaginary one in being incestuous. Without his being at all aware of it these ancient desires are ringing in his mind, are once more struggling to find expression, and need such an expenditure of energy again to "repress" them that he is reduced to the deplorable mental state he himself so vividly depicts. Then comes the Ghost's announcement of the murder. Hamlet, having at the moment his mind filled with natural indignation at the news, answers with (Act I. Sc. 5. l. 29.),

"Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift
As meditation or the thoughts of love,
May sweep to my revenge."

The momentous words follow revealing who was the guilty person, namely a relative who had committed the deed at the bidding of lust.[1] Hamlet's second guilty wish had thus also been realised by his uncle, namely to procure the fulfilment of the first – the replacement of his father – by a personal deed, in fact by murder.[2] The two recent events, the father's death and the mother's second marriage, seemed to the world not to be causally related to each other, but they represented ideas which in Hamlet's unconscious fantasy had for many years been closely associated. These ideas now in a moment forced their way to conscious recognition in spite of all "repressing" forces, and found immediate expression in his almost reflex cry: "O my prophetic soul! My uncle?" For the rest of the interview Hamlet is stunned by the effect of the internal conflict in his mind, which from now on never ceases, and into the nature of which he never penetrates.

    1. It is not maintained that this was by any means Claudius' whole motive, but it evidently was a powerful one, and the one that most impressed Hamlet.
    2. Such murderous thoughts, directed against rival members of the same family, are surprisingly common in children, though of course it is relatively rare that they come to expression. Some years ago, in two editorial articles entitled "Infant Murderers" in the Brit. Jour. of Children's Diseases (Nov. 1904, p. 510, and June, 1905, p. 270), I collected a series of such cases, and, mentioning the constant occurrence of jealousy between young children in the same family, pointed out the possible dangers arising from the non-realisation by children of the significance of death.

One of the first manifestations of the awakening in Hamlet's mind of the old conflict is the reaction against Ophelia. This is doubly conditioned, first by his reaction against woman in general, which culminates in the bitter misogyny of his outburst against her,[1] and secondly by the hypocritical prudishness with which Ophelia follows her father and brother in seeing evil in his natural affection, and which poisons his love in exactly the same way that the love of his childhood had been poisoned. On only one occasion does he for a moment escape from the sordid implication with which his love has been impregnated, and achieve a healthier attitude towards Ophelia, namely at the open grave when in remorse he breaks out at Laertes for presuming to pretend that his feeling for Ophelia could ever equal that of her lover. The intensity of the previous repulsion against women in general, and Ophelia in particular, is an index of the powerful "repression" to which his sexual feeling is being subjected. The outlet for that feeling in the direction of his mother has always been firmly dammed by the forces making for "repression," and, now that the thin outlet for it in Ophelia's direction has also been closed, the increase of desire in the original direction consequent on the awakening of early memories tasks all his energy to maintain the "repression."

    1. Act III, Sc. I, l. 149: "I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another; you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and nickname God's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't; it hath made me mad."

It will be seen from the foregoing that Hamlet's attitude towards his uncle is far more complex than is generally sup- posed. He of course detests his uncle, but it is the jealous detestation of one evil-doer towards his successful fellow.

Much as he hates him, he can never denounce him with the ardent indignation that boils straight from his blood when he reproaches his mother, for the more vigorously he denounces his uncle the more powerfully does he stimulate to activity his own unconscious and "repressed" complexes. He is therefore in a dilemma between on the one hand allowing his natural detestation of his uncle to have free play, a consummation which would make him aware of his own horrible wishes, and on the other ignoring the imperative call for vengeance that his obvious duty demands. He must either realise his own evil in denouncing his uncle's, or strive to ignore, to condone and if possible even to forget the latter in continuing to "repress" the former; his moral fate is bound up with his uncle's for good or ill. The call of duty to slay his uncle cannot be obeyed because it links itself with the call of his nature to slay his mother's husband, whether this is the first or the second; the latter call is strongly "repressed," and therefore necessarily the former also. It is no mere chance that he says of himself that he is prompted to the revenge "by heaven and hell," though the true significance of the expression of course quite escapes him.

Hamlet's dammed-up feeling finds a partial vent in other directions, the natural one being blocked. The petulant irascibility and explosive outbursts called forth by the vexation of Guildenstern and Rosencrantz, and especially of Polonius, are evidently to be interpreted in this way, as also is in part the burning nature of his reproaches to his mother. Indeed towards the end of the interview with his mother the thought of her misconduct expresses itself in that almost physical disgust which is so often the manifestation of intensely "repressed" sexual feeling.

"Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed; Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his mouse; And let him, for a pair of reechy kisses, Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers, Make you to ravel all this matter out."

His attitude towards Polonius is highly instructive. Here the absence of family tie, and of other influences, enables him to indulge to a relatively unrestrained degree his hostility towards the prating and sententious dotard. The analogy he effects between Polonius and Jephthah[1] is in this connection especially pointed. It is here that we see his fundamental attitude towards moralising elders who use their power to thwart the happiness of the young, and not in the over-drawn and melodramatic portrait in which he delineates his father: "A combination and a form indeed, where every god did seem to set his seal to give the world assurance of a man."

    1. What Shakspere thought of Jephthah's behaviour towards his daughter may be gathered from a reference in Henry VI, Part II, Act V, Sc. I. See also on the subject Wordsworth, On Shakespeare's knowledge and use of the Bible, 1864, p.67.

In this discussion of the motives that move or restrain Hamlet we have purposely depreciated the subsidiary ones, which also play a part, so as to bring out in greater relief the deeper and effective ones that are of preponderating importance. These, as we have seen, spring from sources of which Hamlet is unaware, and we might summarise the internal conflict of which he is victim as consisting in a struggle of the "repressed" mental processses to become conscious. The call of duty, which automatically arouses to activity these unconscious processes, conflicts with the necessity for "repressing" then still further; for the more urgent is the need for external action the greater is the effort demanded of the "repressing" forces. Action is paralysed at its very inception, and there is thus produced the picture of causeless inhibition which is so inexplicable both to Hamlet[1] and to readers of the play. This paralysis arises, however, not from physical or moral cowardice, but from that intellectual cowardice, that reluctance to dare the exploration of his inner mind, which Hamlet shares with the rest of the human race.

We have finally to return to the subject with which we started, namely poetic creation, and in this connection to enquire into the relation of Hamlet's conflict to the inner workings of Shakspere's mind. It is here maintained that this conflict is an echo of a similar one in Shakspere himself,[2] as to a greater or less extent it is in all men. It is, therefore, as much beside the point to enquire into Shakspere's conscious intention, moral or otherwise, in the play as it is in the case of most works of genius. The play is the form in which his feeling finds its spontaneous expression, without any inquiry being possible on his part as to the essential nature or source of that feeling.

    1. The situation is perfectly depicted by Hamlet in his cry (Act IV, Sc. 4):
      • "I do not know
      • Why yet I live to say 'This thing's to do,'
      • Sith I have cause, and will, and strength, and means,
      • To do't."


With greater insight he could have replaced the word "will" by "pious wish," which, as Loening (Op. cit., S. 246) points out, it obviously means. Curiously enough, Rolfe (Op. cit., p. 23) quotes this very passage in support of Werder's hypothesis that Hamlet was inhibited by the external difficulties of the situation.

    1. The view that Shakspere depicted in Hamlet his own inner self is a wide-spread one. See especially Döring, Shakespeare's Hamlet seinem Grundgedanken und Inhalte nach erläutert, 1865; Hermann, Ergänzungen und Berichtigungen der hergebrachten Shakespeare-Biographie, 1884; Taine, Histoire de la litérature anglaise; Vischer, Altes und Neues, 1882, Ht. 3.

This conclusion is amply supported by a historical study of the external circumstances of the play. It is well known that Shakespeare took not only the skeleton but also a surprising amount of detail from earlier writings.[1] It is probable that he had read both the original saga as told early in the thirteenth century by Saxo Grammaticus, and the translation and modification of this published by Belleforest.[2] For at least a dozen years before Shakspere wrote Hamlet a play of the same name was extant in England, which modern evidence[3] has clearly shewn to have been written by Thomas Kyd. Ruder accounts of the story, of Irish and Norse origin, were probably still more widely spread in England, and the name Hamlet itself, or some modification of it, was very common in the Stratford district;[4] as is well known, Shakspere in 1585 christened his own son Hamnet, a frequent variation of the name. Thus the plot of the tragedy must have been present in his mind for some years before it actually took form as a play. In all probability this was in the winter of 1601-[2] , for the play was registered on July 26, 1602, and the first, piratical, edition appeared in quarto in 1603. Highly suggestive, therefore, of the subjective origin of the psychical conflict in the play is the fact that it was in September, 1601, that Shakspere's father died, an event which might well have had the same awakening effect on old "repressed" memories that the death of Hamlet's father had with Hamlet; his mother lived till some seven years later. There are many indications that the disposition of Shakspere's father was of that masterful and authoritative kind so apt to provoke rebellion, particularly in a first-born son.

    1. No doubt much detail was also introduced by Shakspere from personal experience. For instance there is much evidence to shew that in painting the character of Hamlet he had in mind some of his contemporaries, notably William Herbert, later Lord Pembroke, (Döring, Hamlet, 1898, S. 35) and Robert Essex (Isaac, Hamlet's Familie. Shakespeare's Jahrbuch, Bd. XVI, S. 274). The repeated allusion to the danger of Ophelia's conceiving illegitimately may be connected with both Herbert, who was imprisoned for being the father of an illegitimate child, and the poet himself, who hastily married in order to avoid the same stigma.
    2. Belleforest: Histoires tragiques, T. V., 1564. This translation was made from the Italian of Bandello.
    3. See Fleay: Chronicle of the English Drama, 1891; Sarrazin: Thomas Kyd und sein Kreis, 1892; and Corbin: The Elizabethan Hamlet, 1895.
    4. Elton: William Shakespeare. His Family and Friends, 1904 p. 223.

It is for two reasons desirable here to interpolate a short account of the mythological relations of the original Hamlet legend, first so as to observe the personal contribution to it made by Shakspere, and secondly because knowledge of it serves to confirm and expand the psychological interpretation given above. Up to the present point in this essay an attempt has been made to drive the argument along a dry, logical path, and to show that all the explanations of the mystery prior to Freud's end in blind alleys. So far as I can see, there is no escape possible from the conclusion that the cause of Hamlet's hesitancy lies in some unconscious source of repugnance to his task; the next step of the argument, however, in which is supplied a motive for this repugnance, is avowedly based on considerations that are not generally appreciated, though I have tried to minimise the difficulty by assimilating the argument to some commonly accepted facts. Now, there is another point of view from which this labour would have been superfluous, in that Freud's explanation would appear directly obvious. To any one familiar with the modern interpretation, based on psycho-analytic study, of myths and legends, that explanation of the Hamlet problem would immediately occur on the first reading through of the play. The reason why this strong statement can be made is that the story of Hamlet is merely an unusually elaborated form of a vast group of legends, the psychological significance of which is now, thanks to Freud and his co-workers, quite plain. It would absorb too much space to discuss in detail the historical relationship of the Hamlet legend to the other members of this group, and I shall here content myself with pointing out the psychological resemblances; Jiriczek[1] and Lessmann[2] have adduced much evidence to shew that the Norse and Irish variants of it are descended from the ancient Iranian legend of Kaikhosrav, and there is no doubt of the antiquity of the whole group, some members of which can be traced back for several thousand years.[3]

    1. Jiriczek: Hamlet in Iran, Zeitschr. des Vereius für Volkskunde, 1900, Bd. X.
    2. Lessmann: Die Kyrossage in Europa. Wissenschaftliche Beil. z. Jahresbericht d. städt. Realschule zu Charlottenburg, 1906.
    3. In the exposition of this group of myths I am especially indebted to Otto Rank's excellent volume, Der Mythus von der Geburt des Helden, 1909, in which the original references may also be found.

The theme common to all members of the group is the success of a young hero in displacing a rival father. In its simplest form, the hero is persecuted by a tyrannical father who has been warned of his approaching eclipse, but after marvellously escaping from various dangers he avenges himself, often unwittingly, by slaying the father. The persecution mainly takes the form of attempts to destroy the hero's life just after his birth, by orders that he is to be drowned, exposed to cold and starvation, or otherwise done away with. A good instance of this simple form is the Oedipus legend, in which the underlying motive is betrayed by the hero subsequently marrying his mother; the same occurs in many Christian variants of this legend, for example, in the Judas Iscariot and St. Gregory one. The intimate relation of the hero to the mother is also shewn in certain types of the legend (for example, the Ferdun, Perseus and Telephos ones) by the fact that the mother and son are together exposed to the same dangers. In some types the hostility towards the father is the predominating theme, in others the afection for the mother, but as a rule both of these are more or less plainly to be traced.

The elaboration of the more complex variants of the myth is brought about chiefly by three factors, namely: an increasing degree of distortion engendered by greater psychological "repression," complication of the main theme by other allied ones, and expansion of the story by repetition due to the creator's decorative fancy. In giving a description of these three processes it is difficult sharply to separate them, but they will all be illustrated in the following examples.


Date: 2016-03-03; view: 427


<== previous page | next page ==>
TABLE DES SÉANCES 40 page | TABLE DES SÉANCES 42 page
doclecture.net - lectures - 2014-2024 year. Copyright infringement or personal data (0.009 sec.)