A Failure to Transcend Humanity

The darkest evil may well be human.

Heroes like Macbeth and Jay Gatsby have become fixtures in our minds like the constellations at night—their desires, fantasies, when lived out, are too horrible even to contemplate. The audience lets heroes like Macbeth, like Gatsby, become sacrificial victims to Dionysus so we don’t have to be. The fates of both of these figures are strikingly similar, the most obvious connection being that their ambition and greed led to their demise.

But it’s more than that; Macbeth and Gatsby’s failures to achieve their dreams comes from their mistaken belief that they can

transcend humanity.

However, the similarities between these two characters begin far before either of them act on their forbidden desires. They begin with the gods that rule over them, some entity that is more (or less) than human.

In The Great Gatsby it is Doctor T.J. Eckleburg:

The eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg are blue and gigantic—their retinas are one yard high. They look out of no face but, instead, from a pair of enormous yellow spectacles which pass over a nonexistent nose. Evidently some wild wag of an oculist set them there to fatten his practice in the borough of Queens, and then sank down himself into eternal blindness or forgot them and moved away. But his eyes, dimmed a little by many paintless days under sun and rain, brood on over the solemn dumping ground (26)

Eckleburg watches over everything and everyone. He seems to be all-knowing, and he appears in the most unlikely places. When Nick arrives at Gatsby’s first party, he encounters a “stout, middle-aged man, with enormous owl-eyed spectacles” (45) His “unusual quality of wonder” becomes increasingly clear as Eckleburg’s “dim[s] a little” (54, 26). While Eckleburg may not have an active role in controlling the events that follow, he knows something that others do not.

Similarly, the three weird sisters govern the society of Macbeth in some omniscient fashion. When Banquo first encounters them with Macbeth, he remarks,

What are these, So withered, and so wild in their attire, / That look not like th’ inhabitants o’ th’ Earth / And yet are on ’t?—Live you? (1.3.40-44)

Just like Eckleburg, these witches seem to possess some quality that isn’t quite human, something “fantastical” (1.3.56). Macbeth asks them, “Speak if you can. What are you?” (1.3.50). But instead of answering his question, they chant:

All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, Thane of Glamis!

All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor!

All hail, Macbeth, that shalt be king hereafter! (1.3.51-53)

It becomes apparent that these witches know something Banquo and Macbeth don’t. More specifically, it appears that they already have Macbeth’s fate laid out. If this future is already set in stone, Macbeth need not force anything; however it happens, Macbeth will be king. But due to fear, or unbridled desire, or perhaps some combination of both, Macbeth feels the need to

override his humanness

and make that happen himself.

After relaying this information to Lady Macbeth, she comes to the same conclusion. She exclaims,

Come, you spirits That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full Of direst cruelty (1.5.47-50)

The word unsex is peculiar. It could mean that she wants to be free of the shackles that the title of woman gives her, but she wants to be unsexed. That is, she wants to be free of her gender entirely, to rise above the very concept of humanity.

But let us return to Jay Gatsby for a moment. When describing his childhood, Nick says, “The truth was that Jay Gatsby, of West Egg, Long Island, sprang from his Platonic conception of himself. He was a son of God” (105). James Gatz was born on a North Dakota farm- one could call these humble beginnings. But he dropped out of St. Olaf college, a means for an exciting future, because he couldn’t stand doing the work of a janitor to afford his tuition. Never mind that a college education could transform his life—working an honest job displayed a “ferocious indifference to the drums of his destiny” (106). So James curated a version of himself that wasn’t real-

that wasn’t human.

More than anything, Gatsby wants Daisy, the love of his life, back. He has a telling conversation with Nick about it:

‘I wouldn’t ask too much of her,’ I ventured. ‘You can’t repeat the past.’ ‘Can’t repeat the past?’ he cried incredulously. ‘Why of course you can!’ … He wanted nothing less of Daisy than that she should go to Tom and say: ‘I never loved you.’ (118)

Changing the past and controlling the future are things humans simply cannot do. So when Macbeth and Gatsby attempt to achieve the impossible, one can expect nothing less than disaster.

Macbeth’s first victim on his way to the throne is Duncan, and just before he does the deed, he hallucinates:

Is this a dagger which I see before me, / The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch / thee. / I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. / Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? Or art thou but / A dagger of the mind, a false creation / Proceeding from the heat-opprèssed brain? (2.1.44-51)

Fearful that the guards might have seen this heinous act, he kills them too. Then, he dispatches murderers to kill Banquo and Macduff’s family. Each killing increases in impulsivity and intensity, and it becomes to much for Lady Macbeth to bear:

“Nought’s had, all’s spent, / Where out desire is got without content; / ‘Tis safer to be that which we destroy / Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy” (3.2.9)

Lady Macbeth has come back down to Earth, realizing that just because Macbeth has attained what he desired doesn’t mean he, or she, is content. In fact, Lady Macbeth is driven to madness by guilt over the atrocities she encouraged him to commit, and she takes her own life backstage.

Much like Macbeth, there are less murderous but equally dishonest steps Gatsby has taken to ensure his position. After meeting Dan Cody, a grossly wealthy man with a yacht, and traveling “three times around the continent,” experiencing the lavish life he had always dreamed of, Gatsby found himself in cahoots with Meyer Wolfsheim after the death of Dan Cody, who headed a highly illegal gambling scheme (107). One night, after a tumultuous day in the city with Daisy and Tom, Gatsby’s car strikes Myrtle Wilson and kills her. Like Lady Macbeth, Gatsby at least seems to become aware of the gravity of the situation.

It’s unclear who was driving when Myrtle was killed, so Nick took to asking Gatsby. Gatsby was on the verge of confessing to killing Myrtle Wilson, feebly saying, “‘Well, I tried to swing the wheel——’” but before he can get the rest of his words out, Nick jumps to conclusions and asks if Daisy was driving (154). Gatsby didn’t deny it, slipping past his one chance to take accountability; he believes he has gotten away with it.

Macbeth did, too. To ensure that his kingship will be secure, he approaches the witches. They tell him that “Macbeth shall never vanquish’d be until / Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill / Shall come against him” (4.1.106-107) The third apparition, “a Child crowned, with a tree in his hand,” makes Macbeth believe he can never be defeated. After the witches disappear, Macbeth discovers that Macduff has fled to England, and decides to kill Macduff’s family immediately.

But when Macduff hears about this, he vows he will avenge his family, exclaiming, “I have no words; / My voice is in my sword” (5.8.8-9).

Then, all hell beaks loose for both Gatsby and Macbeth. The morning after Myrtle’s death, Gatsby is found dead on a “laden mattress mov[ing] irregularly down the pool” (173). Macbeth has been slain at the hands of Macduff.

So why did their fates end so tragically? Was it because of their ambition? Their greed? Not exactly. They just wanted to be more than human.