"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 pa.s.sage 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 pa.s.sage a.s.suredly 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 a.s.sure 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 circ.u.mstances, 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 c.u.mberland!--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 a.s.surance 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 pa.s.sage 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 a.s.sume 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 pa.s.sage 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 pa.s.sage 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 pa.s.s 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 antic.i.p.ation 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sage 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 pa.s.sage 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 a.s.suming 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, _a.s.sumed_ 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.

Repining

She sat alway thro' the long day Spinning the weary thread away; And ever said in undertone: "Come, that I be no more alone."

From early dawn to set of sun Working, her task was still undone; And the long thread seemed to increase Even while she spun and did not cease.

She heard the gentle turtle-dove Tell to its mate a tale of love; She saw the glancing swallows fly, Ever a social company; She knew each bird upon its nest Had cheering songs to bring it rest; None lived alone save only she;-- The wheel went round more wearily; She wept and said in undertone: "Come, that I be no more alone."

Day followed day, and still she sighed For love, and was not satisfied; Until one night, when the moonlight Turned all the trees to silver white, She heard, what ne'er she heard before, A steady hand undo the door.

The nightingale since set of sun Her throbbing music had not done, And she had listened silently; But now the wind had changed, and she Heard the sweet song no more, but heard Beside her bed a whispered word: "Damsel, rise up; be not afraid; For I am come at last," it said.

She trembled, tho' the voice was mild; She trembled like a frightened child;-- Till she looked up, and then she saw The unknown speaker without awe.

He seemed a fair young man, his eyes Beaming with serious charities; His cheek was white, but hardly pale; And a dim glory like a veil Hovered about his head, and shone Thro' the whole room till night was gone.

So her fear fled; and then she said, Leaning upon her quiet bed: "Now thou art come, I prithee stay, That I may see thee in the day, And learn to know thy voice, and hear It evermore calling me near."

He answered: "Rise, and follow me."

But she looked upwards wonderingly: "And whither would'st thou go, friend? stay Until the dawning of the day."

But he said: "The wind ceaseth, Maid; Of chill nor damp be thou afraid."