{9} It is proper to state that this article was written, and seen,
exactly as it at present stands, by several literary friends of the
writer, a considerable time before the appearance, in the
"Westminster Review," of a Paper advocating a view of "Macbeth,"
similar to that which is here taken. But although the publication of
the particular view was thus anticipated, nearly all the most
forcible arguments for maintaining it were omitted; and the subject,
mixed up, as it was, with lengthy disquisitions upon very minor
topics of Shaksperian acting, &c. made no very general impression at
the time.
The purpose of the following Essay is to demonstrate the existence of
a very important error in the hitherto universally adopted
interpretation of the character of Macbeth. We shall prove that _a
design of illegitimately obtaining the crown of Scotland had been
conceived by Macbeth, and that it had been communicated by him to his
wife, prior to his first meeting with the witches, who are commonly
supposed to have suggested that design_.
Most persons when they commence the study of the great Shaksperian
dramas, already entertain concerning them a set of traditional
notions, generally originated by the representations, or
misrepresentations, of the theatre, afterwards to become strengthened
or confirmed by desultory reading and corroborative criticism. With
this class of persons it was our misfortune to rank, when we first
entered upon the _study_ of "Macbeth," fully believing that, in the
character of the hero, Shakspere intended to represent a man whose
general rectitude of soul is drawn on to ruin by the temptations of
supernatural agents; temptations which have the effect of eliciting
his latent ambition, and of misdirecting that ambition when it has
been thus elicited.
As long as we continued under this idea, the impression produced upon
us by "Macbeth" came far short of that sense of complete satisfaction
which we were accustomed to receive from every other of the higher
works of Shakspere. But, upon deeper study, the view now proposed
suggested itself, and seemed to render every thing as it should be.
We say that this view suggested _itself_, because it did not arise
directly from any one of the numerous passages which can be quoted in
its support; it originated in a general feeling of what seemed to be
wanting to the completion of the entire effect; a circumstance which
has been stated at length from the persuasion that it is of itself no
mean presumption in favour of the opinion which it is the aim of this
paper to establish.
Let us proceed to examine the validity of a position, which, if it
deserves any attention at all, may certainly claim an investigation
more than usually minute. We shall commence by giving an analysis of
the first Act, wherein will be considered, successively, every
passage which may appear to bear either way upon the point in
question.
The inferences which we believe to be deducible from the first scene
can be profitably employed only in conjunction with those to be
discovered in the third. Our analysis must, therefore, be entered
upon by an attempt to ascertain the true character of the impressions
which it was the desire of Shakspere to convey by the second.
This scene is almost exclusively occupied with the narrations of the
"bleeding Soldier," and of _Rosse_. These narrations are constructed
with the express purpose of vividly setting forth the personal valour
of Duncan's generals, "Macbeth and Banquo." Let us consider what is
the _maximum_ worth which the words of Shakspere will, at this period
of the play, allow us to attribute to the moral character of the
hero:--a point, let it be observed, of first-rate importance to the
present argument. We find Macbeth, in this scene, designated by
various epithets, _all_ of which, either directly or indirectly,
arise from feelings of admiration created by his courageous conduct
in the war in which he is supposed to have been engaged. "Brave" and
"Noble Macbeth," "Bellona's Bridegroom," "Valiant Cousin," and
"Worthy Gentleman," are the general titles by which he is here spoken
of; but none of them afford any positive clue whatever to his _moral_
character. Nor is any such clue supplied by the scenes in which he is
presently received by the messengers of Duncan, and afterwards
received and lauded by Duncan himself. Macbeth's moral character, up
to the development of his criminal hopes, remains strictly
_negative_. Hence it is difficult to fathom the meaning of those
critics, (A. Schlegel at their head), who have over and over again
made the ruin of Macbeth's "so many noble qualities"{10} the subject
of their comment.
{10} A. Schlegel's "Lectures on Dramatic Literature." Vol. II. p.
208.
In the third scene we have the meeting of the witches, the
announcement of whose intention to re-assemble upon the heath, _there
to meet with Macbeth_, forms the certainly most obvious, though not
perhaps, altogether the most important, aim of the short scene by
which the tragedy is opened. An enquiry of much interest here
suggests itself. Did Shakspere intend that in his tragedy of
"Macbeth" the witches should figure as originators of gratuitous
destruction, in direct opposition to the traditional, and even
proverbial, character of the _genus?_ By that character such
personages have been denied the possession of any influence whatever
over the untainted soul. Has Shakspere in this instance re tained, or
has he abolished, the chief of those characteristics which have been
universally attributed to the beings in question?
We think that he has retained it, and for the following reasons:
Whenever Shakspere has elsewhere embodied superstitions, he has
treated them as direct and unalterable _facts_ of human nature; and
this he has done because he was too profound a philosopher to be
capable of regarding genuine superstition as the product of random
spectra of the fancy, having absolute darkness for the prime
condition of their being, instead of eeing in it rather the zodiacal
light of truth, the concomitant of the uprising, and of the setting
of the truth, and a partaker in its essence. Again, Shakspere has in
this very play devoted a considerable space to the purpose of
suggesting the self-same trait of character now under discussion, and
this he appears to have done with the express intent of guarding
against a mistake, the probability of the occurrence of which he
foresaw, but which, for reasons connected with the construction of
the play, he could not hope otherwise to obviate.
We allude to the introductory portion of the present scene. One
sister, we learn, has just returned from killing _swine;_ another
breathes forth vengeance against a sailor, on account of the
uncharitable act of his wife; but "his bark _cannot be lost,_" though
it may be "tempest tossed." The last words are scarcely uttered
before the confabulation is interrupted by the approach of Macbeth,
to whom they have as yet made no direct allusion whatever, throughout
the whole of this opening passage, consisting in all of some five and
twenty lines. Now this were a digression which would be a complete
anomaly, having place, as it is supposed to have, at this early stage
of one of the most consummate of the tragedies of Shakspere. We may
be sure, therefore, that it is the chief object of these lines to
impress the reader beforehand with an idea that, in the mind of
Macbeth, there already exist sure foundations for that great
superstructure of evil, to the erection of which, the "metaphysical
_aid_" of the weird sisters is now to be offered. An opinion which is
further supported by the reproaches of Hecate, who, afterwards,
referring to what occurs in this scene, exclaims,
"All you have done
Hath been but for a wayward son,
Spiteful, and wrathful, who, as others do,
Loves for his own end, not for you."
Words which seem to relate to ends loved of Macbeth before the
witches had spurred him on to their acquirement.
The fact that in the old chronicle, from which the plot of the play
is taken, the machinations of the witches are not assumed to be
_un_-gratuitous, cannot be employed as an argument against our
position. In history the sisters figure in the capacity of prophets
_merely_. There we have no previous announcement of their intention
"to meet with Macbeth." But in Shakspere they are invested with all
other of their superstitional attributes, in order that they may
become the evil instruments of holy vengeance upon evil; of that most
terrible of vengeance which punishes sin, after it has exceeded
certain bounds, by deepening it.
Proceeding now with our analysis, upon the entrance of Macbeth and
Banquo, the witches wind up their hurried charm. They are first
perceived by Banquo. To his questions the sisters refuse to reply;
but, at the command of Macbeth, they immediately speak, and forthwith
utter the prophecy which seals the fate of Duncan.
Now, assuming the truth of our view, what would be the natural
behaviour of Macbeth upon coming into sudden contact with beings who
appear to hold intelligence of his most secret thoughts; and upon
hearing those thoughts, as it were, spoken aloud in the presence of a
third party? His behaviour would be precisely that which is implied
by the question of Banquo.
"Good sir, why do you _start and seem to fear_
Things which do sound so fair?"
If, on the other hand, our view is _not_ true, why, seeing that their
characters are in the abstract so much alike, why does the present
conduct of Macbeth differ from that of Banquo, when the witches
direct their prophecies to him? Why has Shakspere altered the
narrative of Holinshed, without the prospect of gaining any advantage
commensurate to the licence taken in making that alteration? These
are the words of the old chronicle: "This (the recontre with the
witches) was reputed at the first but some vain fantastical illusion
by Macbeth and Banquo, insomuch that Banquo would call Macbeth in
jest king of Scotland; and Macbeth again would call him in jest
likewise the father of many kings." Now it was the invariable
practice of Shakspere to give facts or traditions just as he found
them, whenever the introduction of those facts or traditions was not
totally irreconcileable with the tone of his conception. How then
(should we still receive the notion which we are now combating) are
we to account for his anomalous practice in this particular case?
When the witches are about to vanish, Macbeth attempts to delay their
departure, exclaiming,
"Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more:
By Sinol's death, I know I am thane of Glamis;
But how of Cawdor? the thane of Cawdor lives,
A prosperous gentleman; _and, to be king_
_Stands not within the prospect of belief,_
_No more than to be Cawdor_. Say, from whence
You owe this strange _intelligence?_"
"To be king stands not within the prospect of belief, _no more than
to be Cawdor_." No! it naturally stands much _less_ within the
prospect of belief. Here the mind of Macbeth, having long been
accustomed to the nurture of its "royal hope," conceives that it is
uttering a very suitable hyperbole of comparison. Had that mind been
hitherto an honest mind the word "Cawdor" would have occupied the
place of "king," "king" that of "Cawdor." Observe too the general
character of this speech: Although the coincidence of the principal
prophecy with his own thoughts has so strong an effect upon Macbeth
as to induce him to, at once, pronounce the words of the sisters,
"intelligence;" he nevertheless affects to treat that prophecy as
completely secondary to the other in the strength of its claims upon
his consideration. This is a piece of _over-cautious_ hypocrisy which
is fully in keeping with the tenor of his conduct throughout the rest
of the tragedy.
No sooner have the witches vanished than Banquo begins to doubt
whether there had been "such things there as they did speak about."
This is the natural incredulity of a free mind so circumstanced. On
the other hand, Macbeth, whose manner, since the first announcement
of the sisters, has been that of a man in a _reverie_, makes no doubt
whatever of the reality of their appearance, nor does he reply to the
expressed scepticism of Banquo, but abruptly exclaims, "your children
shall be kings." To this Banquo answers, "you shall be king." "And
thane of Cawdor too: went it not so?" continues Macbeth. Now, what,
in either case, is the condition of mind which can have given rise to
this part of the dialogue? It is, we imagine, sufficiently evident
that the playful words of Banquo were suggested to Shakspere by the
narration of Holinshed; but how are we to account for those of
Macbeth, otherwise than by supposing that the question of the crown
is now settled in his mind by the coincidence of the principal
prediction, with the shapings of his own thoughts, and that he is at
this moment occupied with the _wholly unanticipated_ revelations,
touching the thaneship of Cawdor, and the future possession of the
throne by the offspring of Banquo?
Now comes the fulfilment of the first prophecy. Mark the words of
these men, upon receiving the announcement of Rosse:
"_Banquo_. What! can the devil speak truth?
_Macbeth_. The thane of Cawdor lives: why do you dress me
In borrowed robes?"
Mark how that reception is in either case precisely the reverse of
that given to the prophecy itself. Here _Banquo_ starts. But what is
here done for Banquo, by the coincidence of the prophecy with the
truth, has been already done for Macbeth, by the coincidence of his
thought with the prophecy. Accordingly, Macbeth is calm enough to
play the hypocrite, when he must otherwise have experienced surprise
far greater than that of Banquo, because he is much more nearly
concerned in the source of it. So far indeed from being overcome with
astonishment, Macbeth still continues to dwell upon the prophecy, by
which his peace of mind is afterwards constantly disturbed,
"Do you not hope your children shall be kings,
When those that gave the thane of Cawdor to me
Promised no less to them?"
Banquo's reply to this question has been one of the chief sources of
the interpretation, the error of which we are now endeavouring to
expose. He says,
"That, trusted home,
Might yet enkindle you unto the crown,
Besides the thane of Cawdor. But, 'tis strange;
And often times, to win us to our harm,
The instruments of darkness tell us truths,
Win us with honest trifles, to betray us
In deepest consequence."
Now, these words have usually been considered to afford the clue to
the _entire_ nature and extent of the supernatural influence brought
into play upon the present tragedy; whereas, in truth, all that they
express is a natural suspicion, called up in the mind of Banquo, by
Macbeth's remarkable deportment, that _such_ is the character of the
influence which is at this moment being exerted upon the soul of the
man to whom he therefore thinks proper to hint the warning they
contain.
The soliloquy which immediately follows the above passage is
particularly worthy of comment:
"This supernatural soliciting
Cannot be ill; cannot be good:--if ill,
Why hath it given me earnest of success,
Commencing in a truth? I am thane of Cawdor:
If good, why do I yield to that suggestion,
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair,
And make my seated heart knock at my ribs
Against the use of nature? Present fears
Are less than horrible imaginings.
My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man, that function
Is smothered in surmise, and nothing is,
But what is not."
The early portion of this passage assuredly indicates that Macbeth
regards the communications of the witches merely in the light of an
invitation to the carrying out of a design pre-existent in his own
mind. He thinks that the _spontaneous_ fulfilment of the chief
prophecy is in no way probable; the consummation of the lesser
prophecy being held by him, but as an "earnest of success" to his own
efforts in consummating the greater. From the latter portion of this
soliloquy we learn the real extent to which "metaphysical aid" is
implicated in bringing about the crime of Duncan's murder. It serves
to assure Macbeth that _that_ is the "nearest way" to the attainment
of his wishes;--a way to the suggestion of which he now, for the
first time, "_yields_," because the chances of its failure have been
infinitely lessened by the "earnest of success" which he has just
received.
After the above soliloquy Macbeth breaks the long pause, implied in
Banquo's words, "Look how our partner's rapt," by exclaiming,
"If chance will have me king, why chance may crown me,
Without my stir."
Which is a very logical conclusion; but one at which he would long
ago have arrived, had "soliciting" meant "suggestion," as most people
suppose it to have done; or at least, under those circumstances, he
would have been satisfied with that conclusion, instead of
immediately afterwards changing it, as we see that he has done, when
he adds,
"Come what come may,
Time and the hour runs through the roughest day!"
With that the third scene closes; the parties engaged in it
proceeding forthwith to the palace of Duncan at Fores.
Towards the conclusion of the fourth scene, Duncan names his
successor in the realm of Scotland. After this Macbeth hastily
departs, to inform his wife of the king's proposed visit to their
castle, at Inverness. The last words of Macbeth are the following,
"The prince of Cumberland!--That is a step,
On which I must fall down, or else o'erleap.
For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires!
Let not light see my black and deep desires;
The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be,
Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see."
These lines are equally remarkable for a tone of settled assurance as
to the fulfilment of the speaker's royal hope, and for an entire
absence of any expression of reliance upon the power of the
witches,--the hitherto supposed originators of that hope,--in aiding
its consummation. It is particularly noticeable that Macbeth should
make no reference whatever, not even in thought, (that is, in
soliloquy) to any supernatural agency during the long period
intervening between the fulfilment of the two prophecies. Is it
probable that this would have been the case had Shakspere intended
that such an agency should be understood to have been the first
motive and mainspring of that deed, which, with all its accompanying
struggles of conscience, he has so minutely pictured to us as having
been, during that period, enacted? But besides this negative
argument, we have a positive one for his non-reliance upon their
promises in the fact that he attempts to outwit them by the murder of
Fleance even after the fulfilment of the second prophecy.
The fifth scene opens with Lady Macbeth's perusal of her husband's
narration of his interview with the witches. The order of our
investigation requires the postponement of comment upon the contents
of this letter. We leave it for the present, merely cautioning the
reader against taking up any hasty objections to a very important
clause in the enunciation of our view by reminding him that, contrary
to Shakspere's custom in ordinary cases, we are made acquainted only
with a _portion_ of the missive in question. Let us then proceed to
consider the soliloquy which immediately follows the perusal of this
letter:
"I do fear thy nature.
It is too full o' the milk of human kindness,
To catch the nearest way: thou wouldst be great;
Art not without ambition; but without
The illness should attend it. That thou wouldst highly,
That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play false
And yet wouldst wrongly win: thou'dst have, great Glamis,
That which cries this thou must do if thou have it,
And that which rather thou dost fear to do,
Thou wishest should be undone."
It is vividly apparent that this passage indicates a knowledge of the
character it depicts, which is far too intimate to allow of its being
other than a _direct_ inference from facts connected with previous
communications upon similar topics between the speaker and the
writer: unless, indeed, we assume that in this instance Shakspere has
notably departed from his usual principles of characterization, in
having invested Lady Macbeth with an amount of philosophical
acuteness, and a faculty of deduction, much beyond those pretended to
by any other of the female creations of the same author.
The above passage is interrupted by the announcement of the approach
of Duncan. Observe Lady Macbeth's behaviour upon receiving it. She
immediately determines upon what is to be done, and all without (are
we to suppose?) in any way consulting, or being aware of, the wishes
or inclinations of her husband! Observe too, that neither does _she_
appear to regard the witches' prophecies as anything more than an
invitation, and holding forth of "metaphysical _aid_" to the carrying
out of an independent project. That this should be the case in both
instances vastly strengthens the argument legitimately deducible from
each.
At the conclusion of the passage which called for the last remark,
Macbeth, after a long and eventful period of absence, let it be
recollected, enters to a wife who, we will for a moment suppose, is
completely ignorant of the character of her husband's recent
cogitations. These are the first words which pass between them,
"_Macbeth_. My dearest love,
Duncan comes here to-night.
_L. Macbeth_. And when goes hence?
_Macbeth_. To-morrow, as he purposes.
_L. Macbeth_. Oh! never
Shall sun that morrow see!
Your face, my thane, is as a book where men
May read strange matters:--to beguile the time,
Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye,
Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower,
But be the serpent under it. He that's coming
Must be provided for; and you shall put
This night's great business into my dispatch,
Which shall to all our nights and days to come
Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.
_Macbeth_. We will speak further."
Are these words those which would naturally arise from the situation
at present, by common consent, attributed to the speakers of them?
That is to say a situation in which _each speaker is totally ignorant
of the sentiments pre-existent in the mind of the other_. Are the
words, "we will speak further," those which might in nature form the
whole and sole reply made by a man to his wife's completely
unexpected anticipation of his own fearful purposes? If not, if few
or none of these lines, thus interpreted, will satisfy the reader's
feeling for common truth, does not the view which we have adopted
invest them with new light, and improved, or perfected meaning?
The next scene represents the arrival of Duncan at Inverness, and
contains nothing which bears either way upon the point in question.
Proceeding, therefore, to the seventh and last scene of the first act
we come to what we cannot but consider to be proof positive of the
opinion under examination. We shall transcribe at length the portion
of this scene containing that proof; having first reminded the reader
that a few hours at most can have elapsed between the arrival of
Macbeth, and the period at which the words, now to be quoted, are
uttered.
"_Lady Macbeth. Was the hope drunk,_
_Wherein you dressed yourself? Hath it slept since,_
_And wakes it now, to look so green and pale_
_At what it did so freely?_ From this time,
Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard
To be the same in thine own act and valour,
As thou art in desire? Would'st thou have that
Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life,
And live a coward in thine own esteem,
Letting, I dare not, wait upon, I would,
Like the poor cat in the adage?
_Macbeth_. Prithee, peace:
I dare do all that may become a man;
Who dares do more is none.
_Lady Macbeth. What beast was't then_
_That made you break this enterprise to me?_
_When you durst do it, then you were a man,_
_And to be more than what you were you would_
_Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place_
_Did then adhere, and yet you would make both._
They have made themselves, and that their fitness now
Does unmake you. I have given suck, and know
How tender 'tis to love the babe that milks me:
I would, while it was smiling in my face,
Have plucked my nipple from its boneless gums,
And dashed the brains out, _had I so sworn_
_As you have done to this_."
With respect to the above lines, let us observe that, the words, "nor
time nor place did then adhere," render it evident that they hold
reference to something which passed before Duncan had signified his
intention of visiting the castle of Macbeth. Consequently the words
of Lady Macbeth can have no reference to the previous communication
of any definite intention, on the part of her husband, to murder the
king; because, not long before, she professes herself aware that
Macbeth's nature is "too full of the milk of human kindness to catch
the nearest way;" indeed, she has every reason to suppose that she
herself has been the means of breaking that enterprise to _him_,
though, in truth, the crime had already, as we have seen, suggested
itself to his thought, "whose murder was as yet fantastical."
Again the whole tenor of this passage shows that it refers to verbal
communication between them. _But no such communication can have taken
place since Macbeth's rencontre with the witches_; for, besides that
he is, immediately after that recontre, conducted to the presence of
the king, who there signifies an intention of proceeding directly to
Macbeth's castle, such a communication would have rendered the
contents of the letter to Lady Macbeth completely superfluous. What
then are we to conclude concerning these problematical lines? First
begging the reader to bear in mind the tone of sophistry which has
been observed by Schlegel to pervade, and which is indeed manifest
throughout the persuasions of Lady Macbeth, we answer, that
she wilfully confounds her husband's,--probably vague and
unplanned--"enterprise" of obtaining the crown, with that "nearest
way" to which she now urges him; but, at the same time, she obscurely
individualizes the separate purposes in the words, "and to be _more_
than what you were, you would be so much more the man."
It is a fact which is highly interesting in itself, and one which
strongly impeaches the candour of the majority of Shakspere's
commentators, that the impenetrable obscurity which must have
pervaded the whole of this passage should never have been made the
subject of remark. As far as we can remember, not a word has been
said upon the matter in any one of the many superfluously explanatory
editions of our dramatist's productions. Censures have been
repeatedly lavished upon minor cases of obscurity, none upon this. In
the former case the fault has been felt to be Shakspere's, for it has
usually existed in the expression; but in the latter the language is
unexceptional, and the avowal of obscurity might imply the
possibility of misapprehension or stupidity upon the part of the
avower.
Probably the only considerable obstacle likely to act against the
general adoption of those views will be the doubt, whether so
important a feature of this consummate tragedy can have been left by
Shakspere so obscurely expressed as to be capable of remaining
totally unperceived during upwards of two centuries, within which
period the genius of a Coleridge and of a Schlegel has been applied
to its interpretation. Should this objection be brought forward, we
reply, in the first place, that the objector is 'begging' his
question in assuming that the feature under examination has remained
_totally_ unperceived. Coleridge by way of comment upon these words
of Banquo,
"Good sir, why do you stand, and seem to fear
Things that do sound so fair?"
writes thus: "The general idea is all that can be required of a
poet--not a scholastic logical consistency in all the parts, so as to
meet metaphysical objectors. * * * * * * * * How strictly true to
nature it is, that Banquo, and not Macbeth himself, directs our
notice to the effects produced in Macbeth's mind, _rendered temptible
by previous dalliance with ambitious thoughts_." Here Coleridge
denies the _necessity_ of "logical consistency, so as to meet
metaphysical objectors," although he has, throughout his criticisms
upon Shakspere, endeavored, and nearly always with success, to prove
the _existence_ of that consistency; and so strongly has he felt the
want of it here, that he has, in order to satisfy himself, _assumed_
that "previous dalliance with ambitious thoughts," whose existence it
has been our object to _prove_.
But, putting Coleridge's imperfect perception of the truth out of the
question, surely nothing can be easier than to believe _that_ for the
belief in which we have so many precedents. How many beauties, lost
upon Dryden, were perceived by Johnson; How many, hidden to Johnson
and his cotemporaries, have been brought to light by Schlegel and by
Coleridge.