Putting the Supernatural Back Into Hysteria
Hysteria was thought to have many causes over time: the Greeks characterized it by a mobile and ravenous womb physically causing the symptoms, while later psychologists attributed it to unhealthy, repressed desire. In her article “Lady MacBeth and the Daemonologie of Hysteria,” Joanna Levin argues that the later interpretation was more influenced by fears of witchcraft.
In 1602, a girl named Mary Glover accused her neighbor of bewitching her, resulting in a trial that ultimately had the neighbor imprisoned. The trial set the precedent for whether Glover’s hysterical symptoms would be treated as spiritual or medical, and while the ruling was spiritual, it still provided doctor Edward Jorden the opportunity to popularize the concept of medical hysteria. In a pamphlet citing Hippocratic and Galenic texts, Jorden described the hysterica passio disease, commonly known as “the Mother.” This disease mimicked all the signs of demonic possession but attributed the cause to furor uterinus, a fury of the womb that primarily affected “young and lustie maidens” or spinsters.
The relabeling of witches into hysterics provided a medical method to classify “dangerous women.” In both cases, they represented walking paradoxes: unruly yet easily corrupted by the devil/disease, driven by lust yet sexually inexperienced, out of control yet faking their own condition. In a way, the hysteric was still a possessed woman, but now by the whims of her own womb.
While Levin does make a convincing point that there are many similarities between witches, the bewitched, and hysterics, such a claim that hysteria evolved directly from witchcraft with only a little influence from the ancients is untenable. A more convincing argument would be to say that witchcraft accusations became assimilated into hysteria because of the conveniently shared symptoms. Levin also argues that such a transition was in part to solidify control over women, which I agree with. Witches held power in the unknown, and relabeling them as diseased women removed most of their agency. The phenomenon can still be seen today, as people with various diseases or disabilities are often treated as inherently less than their able peers.
Levin also describes Lady MacBeth as a personification of the witch turned hysteric: At the start of the play, she encourages consorting with the witches, and expresses her willingness to “dash the brains of the babe that milks [her]” if it would grant her more power. By the end, she is delusional and sleepwalking, both symptoms of hysteria, and her last words are “to bed, to bed” which Levin sees as an expression of sexuality. Here this analogy reads as tenuous to me. Lady MacBeth only matches some of the symptoms of hysteria, and even if she demonstrated more, where would we draw the line? Furthermore, Lady MacBeth already reads as a strong, power-hungry woman, and to label her as hysterical is to remove that power and agency. Making such a characterization has all the subjugating effects of the 1600’s hysteria fervor that Levin discusses prior.
“Lady MacBeth and the Daemonologie of Hysteria” does draw valid comparisons between hysterical women and witches, using ample evidence surrounding a historical case study. However, her analysis falters when turning to Shakespeare. The most important question this article inspires is “how are modern attitudes towards disabled people, especially women, influenced by our prejudices?” Considering this question more closely can reveal institutional biases and, through critical analysis, perhaps prevent a second witch hunt.
Source: Levin, Joanna. “Lady MacBeth and the Daemonologie of Hysteria.” ELH, vol. 69, no. 1, 2002, pp. 21–55., www.jstor.org/stable/30032010.
